Do y’all remember those “spells” on youtube that would “turn” you into a werewolf or vampire? Most of the videos said that you had to say the same thing. I remember this one that had “Bring me to life” by Evanescence as the background music. I think that started my emo / edgy phase when I was 12.
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Moon, moon! Golden horns! Melt the bullet, blunt the knife, rot the the cudgel, strike fear into man, beast and reptile, so that they may not seize the grey wolf, nor tear from him his warm hide. My word is firm, firmer than sleep or the strength of heroes!
Russian werewolf spell quoted in Manly Wade Wellman's The Hanging Stones
That was one of the pretty little perks of being on the right side of this looming war. Mind you that didn't mean she was any happier about the ordeal. All her life she had been free to shift under the moon, no over-thinking, no chains-- just freedom. Still, Amber liked the control that she had over shifts. Out of the moon, she could use her teeth and claws at the drop of a hat. Under the moon, she made sure to stay out of the way. Amber understood why they had to fight, she knew why it was worth it. Why they should want to leave the shadows behind them and live without fear.
Still, Amber had never shared her mother's bloodlust.
In fact, she wasn't sure that she ever would. Amber knew why her mom was so angry, she understood her resentment towards hunters (killers) but it wasn't her burden. She cared of course but it hadn't happened to her. It was like no matter how hard she tried to focus, to desensitize herself from the innocent... No, not innocent. They were people, yes but that didn't mean that they were innocent. Still, it was hard not to care. To put her feelings aside to do what had to be done.
Because eventually she would have to do what needed to be done.
There's always causalities in war, loss, blood-shed and ruined lives. There had to be. But there was a reason, a light at the end of the tunnel. God, that was cliché.
Amber rolled her eyes, while she stretched herself out. She was ready for it. She could handle whatever was thrown her way. If Frederick Bellefonte said that it was necessary, then it was necessary. What was one little day of carnage in the grand scheme of things? Besides, she was sure that she could keep herself among the over-grown woods for the duration of the spell. The only one who would suffer today were some unfortunate bunnies.
Still, she wouldn't have minded letting herself run wild. All her life she'd been told that they were supposed to be free-- that they were wolves. Not housebroken puppies but wild animals. Strong, powerful, beautiful and above all deadly. And yet despite all that-- all that bullshit-- her whole life was about staying on the right side of the line. She couldn't step a toe out of it without fear of disappointing her mother. Without fear of being cut down by some hunter.
She was always so afraid. She hated that. She hated that so much she could just feel it pulsating under her skin, ready to break out and overtake her completely. --It's just the spell, she reminded herself.
Nails bit into her palm as she clenched her fists. You don't hate your mother. You don't hate yourself. It's just the spell.
You know who you are and what you have to do. It's just the spell.
The doubt creeped in though, every time it managed to creep under her skin, infect her mind. The people in this town... With their stupid smiles and welcoming nature. Their dumb dances and god damn fruit baskets. Their car crashes and missing campers and animal attacks. Death, pain, that look on Jesse McArthur's stupid face when he saw the car flip over...
She couldn't do this. She couldn't be this person.
But what choice did she have?
“What choice do I have,” her words were chocked out, a guttural growl following close behind as the first wave hit her, knocking her to her knees. Amber was a werewolf. Turning wasn't a big deal, it didn't hurt-- only this time was different. It was all wrong, off balance. It wasn't right. She had no control over it. She couldn't choose to let go-- she was being forced. The pain tore through her but she refused to scream, biting down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood.
As swift and sharp as the pain was, she'd blacked out before she knew it. That's when the wolf took over-- much more vicious, hungry than she had every experienced before. She was biting, scratching, running with the dirt under her claws. There was a rabbit or squirrel or something she was running towards. She had to run towards it.
Nature always wins in the end. You can't fight against what you really are.
Running and running and running and-- Suddenly she'd stopped. The wolf turning sharply and running away in the opposite direction. Where was it going? Towards the noise. Towards the pumping blood. Towards... Towards the people.
The screams made her ears flick back and forth as a building howl erupted from her chest. Claws dug into concrete as she chased, they ran and she chased. It was so loud but she couldn't stop. She had to bite. She had to kill.
And the blood on her claws would be crusted underneath her fingernails when the day was done.
