Full Moon Fever

When I met Ashley, I knew it wouldn't last, and definitely not if she found out what I was. She let me know I was "Mr. Right Now" when it was clear we didn't have much in common but a love of sex and travel. I had money, and we could go to all the places she ever wanted to see. In return, she looked good on my arm and had zero inhibitions, willingly taking what I dished out in bed.

My biggest issue with her was the lack of social graces. She was a loud, rude girl to everyone and quite arrogant, making her living fishing for sugar daddies. Usually, I would never deal with someone like that, but something about her other than her appearance drew me to her. She had slowed down on her man-fishing because I was all she could handle, and could afford her penchant for expensive clothes, food, and exotic destinations. However, her class level did not match her taste, and I grew increasingly tired of her boorish, entitled behavior. Over the year we dated, she tried to calm down, realizing acting like a spoiled brat was grating on my nerves. This meant she may have broken her own rules and was starting to fall in love. But by then, I was done. She was who she was. I did not expect her to change for me.

I drove to her condo - which I paid for and put in her name - to break up with her. It went as badly as expected, with her having a complete meltdown, and if it wasn't nailed down, it was thrown at me. She called me every name in the book. I dodged the physical and verbal missiles like a pro, and when she finally wore herself out, she screamed, "I guess you want all of your shit back, huh, asshole?!?"

"No. You can keep the condo, the car, and all the gifts. All I want is to be done with you. Don't call, don't text, don't visit. Okay?"

I knew it would take at least a couple of days before she found another benefactor, so I placed a sealed envelope on the table that contained one thousand dollars in cash and walked out the door. As I began to walk down the hallway, I felt the envelope hit me in the back. I looked over my shoulder, and Ashley’s looks finally matched her personality. Her eyes were wild, her hair was a mess, and she had ripped her T-shirt. Her lounge pants were stained with wine. "KEEP YOUR MONEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, A WHORE?!?"

I turned around, looked her straight in the eye, and asked, "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Behind a closed door, I heard someone laugh. I wasn't trying to be funny. I turned and continued walking towards the elevator. Ashley was still standing in the hallway, cursing at me. The elevator came, and I watched her pick up the envelope as the doors closed.

Later that night, I shifted into my Werewolf form and decided to check on her. I knew she had started developing feelings for me, so I wanted to be sure she was okay. I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw her through the window giggling and flirting with someone on the phone while simultaneously tapping away at her laptop. Like me, she was searching for a new victim. I slipped back into the darkness, eager to get on with my night. I was hungry.

A few weeks later, I met Simone at a Halloween party. She was dressed as a Werewolf. "Off to a good start," I said to myself. We danced to 80's music, laughed too much, and shared many red cups of the host's potent green punch called "Zombie Goo". I wanted to carry this woman to my house and ravage her, but I would be patient. I knew immediately that this girl was special.

Simone was the polar opposite of Ashley, and we dated like awkward teenagers. Simone was polite, vibrant without being brassy, had good taste without being flashy, and loved fries and a chocolate shake off a food truck as much as a Wagyu steak and Dom Perignon in a fancy restaurant. We had many things in common but enough differences to keep it interesting, and we had conversations that showed the depth of her intelligence. My usual sex was aggressive and dark, but when I finally led Simone to my bed, I made love to her; I had not made love to a woman in ages. Once we had that bond, I soon discovered she was as adventurous and passionate as Ashley. The difference was that we connected beyond body parts; I still wanted to hang out with her after we got out of bed. I hadn't been this happy in years.

The problem with being a Werewolf in love is that at some point, you have to let the cat out of the bag. This is why my relationships tended to be shallow; I knew I could leave without being emotionally tethered and was sure to dip out before they began catching real feelings. I had become enamored with this incredible woman, and now I had to face my dilemma head-on. Do I reveal myself Michael Jackson "Thriller" style in the woods we loved to wander? Do I just say it over takeout and Netflix? This was uncharted territory for me. If she cannot accept this about me, I will be devastated. Then I would have to decide if I needed to kill her to keep my secret.

Dammit.

I’ll wait a little longer. Maybe…this isn’t as perfect as I think it is.

One afternoon, I received a text. “Saw you with that FAT BITCH. That’s the best you could do?” It was Ashley. I had put her so far out of my mind I didn’t recognize her number at first. I had deleted everything related to her off my phone and rarely thought about her. However, I had not blocked her so she could reach me if she got a flat in the middle of the night or on a bad date she needed to get out of.

I decided I would ignore her. Twenty minutes later, she texted again. “Don’t ignore me, PRICK!” I texted back, “I told you to leave me alone. I meant that.”

She quickly replied, “Don’t you have any goddamn standards? I knew you couldn’t do better than me, but you could have done better than that!”

“Goodbye, Ashley,” I responded, then blocked her. I didn’t think much of it.

A few nights later, when I met Simone for dinner, I noticed she was not quite herself. “Are you okay?” I asked, hoping the office politics at her job weren’t wearing her down. “Well…I’ve been getting nasty texts and hang-up calls for the last few days, and when I went to the store yesterday, this woman followed me around, glaring at me the whole time." A knot formed in my stomach. Ashley had a friend who could access personal information...such as a new girlfriend's phone number and address. I asked to see the messages that were sent. They were threatening and awful, and I immediately recognized the jagged texting style. I described Ashley to Simone, and the look on Simone’s face let me know that it was the woman tailing her in the store. It made me very angry.

I told her it was my ex-girlfriend, and I apologized profusely. I knew Ashley was unafraid to throw down in the street, so I feared for Simone’s safety. I suggested an order of protection, but Simone said it was only a piece of paper.

“I will handle this,” I said, holding Simone’s soft hands. “Thank you,” she replied, seeming relieved, “In the meantime, I’ll be okay. I’ve dealt with nutty chicks before. Sorry you were involved with such a psycho.” I gently squeezed her hands. “I’m honestly surprised about this. I broke up with her weeks before I met you. There was no contact from her at all until she texted me a few days ago, and I blocked her. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll find out, and it will stop.”

Simone’s brow unfurrowed, her eyes brightened, and she flashed that megawatt smile. I would have burned the city down to keep that smile on her face, so how hard would it be to stop one crazy ex-girlfriend?

The following day, I called Ashley. She answered in an annoying, super girly voice, “Why, hello!”

I physically cringed. “Cut the crap. What do you want?”

“I just want to see you again. Is that too much to ask?” The tone of her voice lowered and softened, but I hated having to hear her voice at all. I could not hide the irritation in my reply. “Why now, Ash? We’re done. We’ve been done. We have nothing to exchange, finalize, or share. I do not want to see you. Have you already picked clean the bones of your latest provider?” She guffawed. “Now, Max, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Sorry if the truth hurts, but I don’t give a fuck about your feelings, Ash. Why do you want to see m…oh screw it, I don’t even care why. If I see you one last time - and there will be ZERO touching - will you fuck off forever? ‘Cos that would be great.”

She giggled. “Aw, so much hate from such a ‘nice guy’, Maxie,” she said mockingly. I could visualize her artificially plumped, pursed lips as she said it, and I regretted ever getting involved with her. However, I’ll do this to be done with her for good. I was sure she’d want to meet somewhere expensive wearing something extra sexy, be on her best behavior, and try to coax me into bed and back into her life. Unfortunately for her, for that to happen, it would have to snow so hard in Hell that Satan would need a hooded parka.

Unfortunately for me, she wanted to meet in a car lot in the park at night, which sounded like a honey pot ambush. But since I’m a Werewolf - and it would be a full moon on the night she chose - it would take every man she ever banged to subdue me. If she sends someone to shoot me, those bullets better be silver, or I will be one pissed puppy. That’s not going to end well for them or her.

I said I would meet her, but she had to confirm she would never contact me - or Simone - again. She agreed.

“You really love her, don’t you?” She said, in a tone that had enough resignation to make me hopeful she’d stick to the agreement.

“Yes. I do.”

“You can tell me all about her when we meet.”

I wasn’t gonna tell her squat, but I wanted no extra drama. “Sure,” I replied, trying to sound like I didn’t suspect anything terrible would happen. “I’ll see you then.”

At that time of night, there was nothing in the parking lot but the full moon's light and the sound of frogs and crickets. I don't need a full moon to shift, but when there is one, my powers seem to double. I’m damn near invincible.

All creatures flee from me when I’m in their vicinity, so as I walk toward the meeting spot, the frogs and crickets stop croaking and chirping. All I hear are my footsteps, crunching across small stones and tiny pieces of glass on the parking lot asphalt.

I see her car, but she’s not in it. Before I can call her name, I hear her scream.

“HELP!! MAX!! MAX!! HELP ME!!”

Well, here we go.

I speed-walk towards her voice, more sure this is a trap than ever, and I’m not rushing to get in it. But -

What is that sound?

Oh. I know that sound well. It was the sound of someone shifting into a Werewolf. Ashley had stopped screaming. Maybe it wasn’t a trap, and perhaps she was already dead.

I’m now behind the treeline, so I strip and shift. I’ve been doing this for a long time, so I’m quicker, and I bolt to the small clearing where the screaming came from.

A Werewolf was not killing Ashley. Ashley was the Werewolf. She had just completed the shift when I reached her.

I grunt in disgust because she was not a Were when I was with her, and I never told her. That means someone else turned her and must have told her about me because she is expectant, not surprised. While turning Ashley was a poor decision, I’m going to correct that error in judgment by killing her.

She lunges at me, but I easily dodge her. Every miss makes her angrier. I can tell her turn was recent because she doesn’t have full coordination. I can only shake my head in disbelief because I can’t imagine why she thought she could kill me. If I was a human, yes, but I’m not. Her arrogance will be her demise.

Part of me wants to make her suffer, but I want to get this over with and go home. She lunges at me one last time, and I grab her around her neck with one arm, scoop her up by her backside, and quickly snap her neck. The sound was similar to the strike of a piledriver on pavement. She crumples like a foil ball, and I let her fall to the dirt. Her body jerks and flails as it shifts back to human form. I was deciding whether to bury her or leave her for the animals when I heard someone come through the brush.

“Hey, Max.”

It was Rick Tambers, and he was holding my clothes. We were buddies for a minute way back, but he had a bad habit of trying to steal every girl I was with. He thought he was better-looking and richer (he wasn’t), but one day, he moved away with a woman I was dating and was really starting to like. Needless to say, I didn’t miss him and didn’t care if I ever saw him again. While it only took me a minute to figure out what was going on, I was unsure of what to do next.

“Change back, and I’ll fill you in. It's just me out here. You know I can't hurt you, bud," he said. "Even if I had a gun, you know I’m a lousy shot.” I squint my eyes at him. I give a low growl.

“Dude. Seriously.”

I shifted back to human form, and he handed me my clothes. I get dressed, keeping my eyes on him.

Rick is a Werewolf, too. We met while chasing the same hapless victim through the woods in this very park. I caught it, but I shared it with him. We started hanging out on occasion after that. My mother once said, “How you start a relationship is how it will continue and how it will end.” She was right. My friendship with Rick continued and ended as it began - me having something he wanted and sharing it, letting him have it, or watching him try to steal it.

He opened his arms for a bro-hug but quickly retracted when he remembered he was only alive because I wanted to hear what he had to say. He backed away, clasping his hands together. “So. I guess you’re wondering why I’m here and what this is all about.”

I shrug, relaxing a little as the final remnants of my shift ping through my bones. “I think I know why. You saw me with Ashley, and as usual, you had to try and get her. I dump her, you take her, realize she was a piece of crap in a pretty package, but now you can’t get rid of her. Your two brain cells rub together and you realize that if she’s dead, she couldn’t bother you anymore, and since you didn’t have the balls to do it yourself, you'd have me do the dirty work for old-time's sake. Am I close?”

Anger flashed in his eyes, but he clenched his jaw, drew a deep breath, then let out a slow sigh. “Close. Close,” he said, nodding. “Unlike you, who saw her as just a piece of ass to make you appear more interesting, I was in love with that girl. But all she talked about was you. ‘Max this, Max that’. I got tired of hearing about you. Then when you got a new girlfriend, she got all pissed off and started bitching about that. Like most women, Ash wanted the man who didn’t love her and treated her like shit.”

Even Rick’s attempts at being insulting are second-rate. No wonder he bored her. It hurt when I realized Ashley wasn’t falling in love with me; she was in love with me. Ashley was too immature and proud to speak her love, too damaged to express it so I could have broken it off before it went as far as it did. I was at fault for not noticing it sooner; I was too preoccupied with appearances and my ego. I will own that. But I treated her well.

“Yeah, I was the worst,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Put her in a condo in the best part of town, a Mercedes, jewelry, all the trips…just awful. I thought you’d give me credit for buying her all that stuff since your credit probably still sucks.” I smiled at him. He was getting pissed. I didn’t care. “Anyway, you got tired of her missing me. Why did you turn her? How did that conversation happen?”

Rick frowned. “She kept fishing for something I had that you didn’t, wanted to make you 'eat your heart out’ to get back at you. She tried to get your girl to leave you, but it didn’t work, no matter what Ash did. I told her she could try to make you eat your heart out, or she could literally eat your heart out. She asked what I meant. So I told her. She was angry enough to do it so she could kill you…”

“...And she’d finally settle for you.”

His face darkened, and he began to clench his fists. I still didn’t care. I was a killer, but I killed to eat. Tonight, I killed someone I once cared about and not for food. Granted, Ashley planned to kill me, but this could have ended differently. Yes, she could be awful, but she did not deserve this. Therapy, yes. Charm School, yes. Death by Werewolf? No. Not to mention the torture of being turned and those first shiftings. While many do not survive the pain, Ashley was a hardass, so I wasn’t surprised she made it through. The second most potent drug in this world is hate. The first, of course, is power. She had hatred in her heart, and now she had the power of a Werewolf. No wonder she felt she could take me.

Something was off, though. “Dude, you knew her coming for me as a Were would be a suicide mission, and you clearly had no intention of intervening. What were you thinking?”

He held his head up and snickered. “She would never love me like she loved you. So I figured, screw it. If she got lucky and killed you, I would be the more experienced Werewolf and she could look up to me for that. That would be the thing I had that you didn’t. If you killed her, I would find somebody else I didn’t have to work so hard to win over.”

No wonder Ashley’s worst attributes didn’t phase him. He was a bigger asshole than she was.

Rick acted like he wanted to fight, but we knew he’d lose. I had enough blood on my hands for one evening. I bent down to Ashley, pulling her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. She had no makeup on, and there was the pretty face of what was once a sweet girl who grew into a bitter woman. It wasn’t all her fault. I had to think about where in her painful story I resided. I didn’t regret breaking up with her, but I definitely regretted killing her.

“You could at least bury her,” I said, looking for some remnant of decency in Rick's dead eyes. “Pffft,” he said, “that’s your trash. You bury her. You don’t have the heart to leave her like that, so why should I do the work?” He laughed and walked off through the trees.

He was right. And I wouldn’t mind burying two bodies right now…

Oh, never mind. I’ll deal with him later.

I returned to my car, grabbed the shovel, and as much as it pained me, I removed her heart and buried her face down. If she jumped right into being a Werewolf, who knows what weird juju she may have dabbled in to put on me or Simone? Also, she was undoubtedly the type to haunt someone. I did not want it to be us. I said a few incantations and apologized to her. And I meant every word of that apology.

Then I drove home and drank too much.

In the morning after treating my hangover, I told Simone she would never hear from Ashley again. She seemed pleased, and I was relieved she didn’t ask any questions.

A few months went by. There were no news reports of a missing woman and no ghosts. Rick’s remains were quietly composting in the woods. I felt the time was right to come clean to Simone. I was in love with her and knew if we continued this way for another year, I would ask her to be my wife. But…she had to know my secret.

I was still at a loss for how to tell her. I wanted her to feel safe in case she became frightened; however, I didn’t want it to be in too public a place either. I wracked my brain until I came up with an answer. I made my plan; I just had to get her to commit to the date and time.

We were at my house, and she had made a wonderful dinner. We agreed to watch a movie and turn in early. As we got comfortable on the couch, I asked if she was free on the night I chose. She poked at her phone for a minute and said, “Oh yeah, I’m free that night, but are you sure that works for you?”

I cocked my head. Why would she ask that? I’m the one who picked the date.

“Yes, that’s…totally fine for me. Why?”

“Well, it’s a full moon that night.”

I stare at her. It gets so quiet that the ticking of the living room clock is the only sound. Some very uncomfortable seconds slip by.

I give a nervous laugh. “What, are you concerned I may turn into a Werewolf?”

She gave that megawatt smile, touched my arm, and said softly, “You can if you want to. I know what you are, Max.”

My jaw drops.

Simone did some reverse stalking while Ashley was harassing her, placing a tracker on Ashley’s car. After following Ashley to the park, Simone left her car in the lower lot, which was not visible from the one Ashley and I were to meet. She snuck up a trail above Ashley’s head, going into the woods and hiding while Ashley got to the clearing and began to strip off her clothes. Simone was high enough to see me arrive, shift, and kill Ashley. She couldn’t hear the conversation with Rick but recognized him because she followed them on a date one night.

Simone admitted being horrified, unable to move or scream, and was afraid of me. She wasn’t sure how to deal with what she witnessed, and already knew what had happened to Ashley so she didn't ask any questions. She made herself unavailable for a few days afterwards, saying it was a “business trip”. There was no trip. She was processing what she saw, whether she could live with it, and if she could live with me.

She decided she could.

I convinced her I would not hurt her once I shifted, and she agreed to come and watch. On that night, under the full moon, I transformed from a man into a Werewolf before her eyes, up close. She watched transfixed, her fear turning to fascination, not quite grasping how this was physically possible. I walked over to her on all fours, letting her run her hands through my fur. She began to cry. I licked the tears away, gathered her in my arms, and, standing up on my hind legs, brought her to the top of the mountain. The bright moon shone on us as we sat under the clear sky, staring at the stars. She settled into my chest, snuggling up under my snout. Her beating heart was the night song I wanted to hear forever.

She was special, indeed. And it is that perfect.