Sunday, May 26, 2013


Precognition fiction.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

WE ALMOST MADE IT. I'll give us that much.

When Willard told us we had less than two hours before sunset on Saturday night, we immediately got cracking. Lauren changed into sensible shoes. Willard located the appropriate refreshments — in this case, a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and several cold cans of Monster. I broke open my mobile medicine cabinet and made sure everyone was properly prepared for the work ahead. As we got ready, Willard filled us in on the particulars of our delicate task:

"According to legend, Adam will seek to transfer the curse of the rougarou to another human. He can only do that by drawing the blood of another. He will also be inclined to kill Catholics who do not follow the rules of Lent. Given that we're in New Orleans, the pool of available victims on that front seems rather large."

Adam made a Grumpy Cat face. "Now, Willard, you know me better than that. I'm a lover, not a fighter," he said. "I promise to be on my best behavior. Scout's honor."

At that, Willard offered up a thin smile. "Legend also says the rougarou will promise anything to those who can set him free to rampage. We will do well to heed that thought. And remember, Adam was never a Scout, or a Weblos."

"No, but I do look mighty fine in a uniform," Adam replied.

"Let's also remember that the rougarou is almost impossible to catch, once he's free of his shackles," Willard continued. "The only way we can reverse this curse is by locating the woman from the mask shop, bringing her back here and allowing Adam to ... well, I think we all know what has to happen then."

"No — do tell, professor," Lauren said. "I'm assuming we invite her back up here for high tea and biscuits? Perhaps a little tarot-card reading?" She shook her head. "Adam's got some issues that even Doctor Phil can't solve, in case you hadn't noticed. And now you're proposing we track down a woman who doesn't even exist in this universe, bring her back here and ... what? Give her to Werewolf Boy as some sort of blood offering?"

"That's it exactly," Willard said. "And we need to go now, because we have exactly one hour until the sun goes down."

Adam grinned, showing canines that were now growing sharp points. "God, I love deadlines."

No comments: