When the Wolfbane Blooms — Chapter Nine

by Arnold Snyder

 

I was with Bridget, sitting in a Smashbucket coffeedump, both of us hunched over our coffees like we were seeking warmth. I was starting to like her in a way that disturbed me. I had checked my kitchen cabinets and discovered I had no maple syrup. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d used it. Well, yes I could, but this was something different. This was a craving for mapled pussy unlike any I’d ever had. Well, no it wasn’t. Let’s just say it had been a long time.

I told her Vanschtubenbergh loved her idea of selling bane trips as a spiritual experience. She said she thought she might make an excellent high priestess. I told her I wanted to be the church’s first bishop.

My phone buzzed. It was Devon.

“Put him on speaker,” Bridget said.

I did.

“I’m trying to reach Father Mcgillicuddy,” Devon said. “He’s not picking up. It’s rather urgent.”

“You’ll have to leave a message for him at the rectory,” I said. “Do you need the number?”

“I need to speak with him. Now.”

“He’s in a big procession downtown. Doesn’t have his phone with him.”

“Not that Corpus Christi celebration, I hope.”

“That’s exactly where he is,” I said.

“Oh, my god, there are already thousands of people there. This could be really bad.”

“I didn’t know there were that many Catholics in this town. Practicing, anyway. I’ll text you the rectory number.”

“A lot of people just go to see the procession,” he said. “The pageantry. And it’s not all Catholics. But, look, Dustin, here’s the problem … I got your blood samples back, and I completed my analyses and you won’t have to worry about spontaneously transforming for almost seven months.”

“That’s a relief,” I said.

“I just sent you the full report with the possible worrisome dates through the next ten years. Check your in-box.”

“What about me?” Bridget said.

“Oh, hi, Sis. You’re in great shape. You have nothing to worry about for almost three years. But what I’m really calling about is Father Mcgillicuddy’s test results. He will be spontaneously turning into a werewolf in about one hour and seventeen minutes.”

“Holy shit,” I said.

“We have no way to reach him,” Bridget said. “Did you call the rectory, Dev? Dustin has the number.”

“I have the number. I’ve called them ten times already. They have no way to reach him. He told them he’d call in for messages sometime later. Apparently, after the benediction at the church, they’re having a banquet with the bishop. They guessed he’d probably call for messages before sundown. But sundown is way too late. He’ll be going into a full transformation very early this afternoon, most likely while the procession is in progress, spontaneously, with no prior indication to him that it’s about to happen, in public. I was hoping that maybe you know some of his Catholic friends who might be there that you could call and get a message to him.”

“Well, so much for going to the movies,” I said. “I don’t know any of his friends and the only other number I have for him is the rectory. Bridget and I will go downtown right now and find him. We don’t have much time. We gotta run, Devon. Thanks for telling us.”

I stuck my phone back in my pocket. “How the hell are we going to find Father Mcgillicuddy?” I said to Bridget. “All I know is he’s marching somewhere on twelfth street. I guess they have a parade permit all the way to the shopping district.  But if there really are thousands of people down there, it’ll be impossible.”

“I know how to find him,” Bridget said.

I looked at her curiously. “Do you have some magical powers I don’t know about?”

“Let me have the bane,” she said.

“Are you crazy?”

“You said Devon gave you an extra hit.”

“So what?”

“It’s the only way.”

“What will you do with it?”

“Eat it.”

“And you being a wolf is going to help matters?”

“My being a wolf is going to crank up my sense of smell a hundredfold,” she said.

I just looked at her. What she was suggesting was lunacy.

“Did you already forget what your lupine sense of smell was like?” she said.

“Oh, Bridget, I know your sense of smell would be kickass, but you can’t go into a huge crowd of people as a werewolf.”

“I can restrain myself,” she said. “I’m telling you, Dustin, if I went into that crowd as a wolf, and Father Mcgillicuddy is anywhere in there, I’ll pick up his scent in a heartbeat and find him within minutes.”

“Okay, Bridget, even if I give you the benefit of the doubt and accept that you can restrain yourself from attacking any of the humans downtown, the fact remains that you will scare the shit out of people. They’ll stampede. Werewolves can’t just walk through crowds unnoticed.”

“They’ll think I’m a dog,” she said.

“A dog? You’re too big to be a dog. You’ll scare the living daylights out of people.”

“There are big dogs. I’ll stay on all fours. Put me on a leash.”

“But you’ll look like a wolf, even on a leash.”

“Give me the bane,” she said. “It’s our only chance.”

Against my better judgment, I took the envelope from my pocket that contained the last square of Lycan Lite. I gave her the envelope. “I can’t take responsibility for whatever happens,” I said.

With no hesitation, she took the bane from the envelope and placed it on her tongue.

“You better get your damn shoes off,” I said. “In fact, you better get all your clothes off. Dogs don’t wear skirts and panties. We’ve got to go buy you a leash.”

She kicked her shoes off and said, “Better get two. If we get there late you may have to leash Father Mcgillicuddy too.”

“You know you could have waited to eat the bane until after we picked up a leash and drove downtown.”

“Yes, but it takes a while for my wolf senses to kick in fully. I want to be ready.” Then she threw her head back and fell to all fours as she began her transformation. I waited until her metamorphosis was complete, then I undressed her, which I found strangely erotic. But what disturbed me was the small padded panty-liner inside her drawers, with what appeared to be a dime-sized pinkish blood stain.

“Are you still on the rag?” I said.

She just looked at me with her big brown wolf eyes.

I showed her the panty-liner. “You’re spotting,” I said. But it was too late to do anything about it. Surely, her period was over, or at least, over enough.

I put the panty liner to my nose and inhaled deeply. I was in love with this woman. My thoughts immediately went to maple syrup.

“C’mon,” I said. “We’ve got to go shopping.”

Go to: Chapter Ten

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