A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Welcome to Brooklyn, now you’re dead. | June 17, 2010

So what are you when you don’t know what you are? Lost?

Vargr, didn’t strike me as someone who was lost. A petty criminal and a shape shifter, he definitely was. But after his run in with me, back in 2009 when he robbed me of my belongings on the streets of Brooklyn, he became something else. All because I bit him. I don’t know if anyone’s every done studies on what a werewolf bite can do. When I bit Vargr, I was in human form, had very human teeth, that had all the powerful force of a werewolf’s bite and strength. I bit through his skin, till I hit bone. His collar bone. I bit so hard, I chipped my tooth.

Non’s just can’t do that. It might sound simple and easy, but muscle is tough, sinew is tougher. Breaking skin is easy, getting past the broken skin, sinking into someone’s bone, that’s actually harder than you’d believe. Of course, not to a werewolf like me. It’s kind of like forgetting your own strength and all that.

I let his words sink in, with the maniacal expression building on his face.

“I’m a, what those native indians call a shape shifter, I looked it up.”

Vargr was a shape shifter. Thanks to me? I frowned heavily. How did that even begin to work? I don’t really know how shape shifter become what they are. I don’t really know that much about their kind at all. But I am like ninety nine percent certain, you don’t become a shape shifter from a werewolf bite. If anything, he should have become a lycan.

My bite did something to him. Maybe, I infected a shape shifter with lycanthropy. Like he didn’t know he was a shape shifter or something and then I bit him and it activated it or messed things up in him? How is that even possible?

I glanced at Conall, ever ready to pounce on this guy, should he make a wrong move. What had I done to this petty criminal? Had I made a bad person, worse?

“How?”I asked him, because the question had to be asked. I had to know. I didn’t just walk through a cemetery for no reason, and not to confront Vargr. I hadn’t worried about this guy for a whole year, because I didn’t have reason to. I wanted an answer.

He shrugged his shoulders. “After you bit me. I become different.” He said cryptically.
Asshole.

“How different?”

He smiled with a cat’s got the canary kind of smile. Like he knew something I don’t know which should seem so obvious to me, if only I damn well knew what it was.

“You freed me.”

A chill ran over my body.

Freedom usually sounds like a good thing. Something to celebrate and enjoy. Only this was a criminal, an from what I could tell, he rather enjoyed being a criminal. Which didn’t make him the nicest person on the planet according to my judgment scale.

He moved away from me and started gathering up his stash pile of stolen items, shoving the small bits of jewellery and wallets into the larger handbags, he’d stolen from people.

Freedom to a werewolf was open spaces, and running and roaming without fear of anything being after them. It was the moonlight coursing through our veins when we were in tribal form on a lunar week. It was…

Moonlight. The moon. The lunar cycle. Lunar week. I kept jumping my thoughts along, trying to piece it together with what I knew, as Vargr seemed to pack up his stuff.

Shape shifters are bound by moonlight. At least, I’m pretty sure they are, I’ve only ever seen shape shifters change form on a lunar week. As far as I was aware, that’s the only time they can. Where as werewolves can change form at any time but have to shift on a full moon night.

“So, how does the whole, changing shape thing work anyway?” I asked curiously.

Vargr shoved his stash into a large duffel bag. “I don’t know lady and if I did know, I sure as hell wouldn’t be telling no werewolf about it.”

“Why not?” Conall asked, beside me.

“When you’ve been on the streets as long as I have, and you do what I do for a living, you learn to have some street smarts about you. You’re the first two werewolves I’ve ever met, but I’ve heard about your type before. Plenty of times. I ain’t stupid.”

“Well, you’re something alright, wandering into werewolf territory, twice now, attacking me once, stealing my stuff.”

Vargr straightened up, hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder quickly.

“The crypt’s all yours. I got other places I can crash.”

Both Conall and I stepped in front of him, blocking the entrance of the crypt. So there was no way out.

“You don’t want to do that.” He said at me, his voice getting deeper. Did he think he was testing me? Frightening me? Going to intimidate me, a werewolf, into backing down? Oh he really didn’t know werewolves that well. I won’t back down for anyone. Let alone a shape shifter.

“Oh yes, I do.” I replied, letting my growl come through in my voice. Vargr flinched, taking a step backwards. What an amateur. He really had no idea about messing with werewolves or playing the card he’d been dealt. He sighed heavily and started sliding the duffel bag off his shoulder. Then he threw the bag out at us, slamming into Conall and trying to shoulder past me. Conall swatted the bag aside and moved to grab him.

I’d half been expecting him to pull out his knife on me again. I was beginning to dislike Vargr, a lot. I barely fell off balance as I growled and grabbed him first, throwing him back into the marble centre piece in the crypt. Causing him to bounce off it, grabbing his ribs. I heard something pop inside him.

“Welcome to Brooklyn.” I muttered as both Conall and I strode towards him. “Now you’re dead. For the crime of pissing me off.”

“Okay, okay, you want to know?” He winced holding his arms up in a defensive position, like he thought he was going to get hit. He sounded winded. Conall and I stood over him. What a whimp. I felt my wolf start to get restless. Whimps are weaklings and weaklings are prey, to a werewolf. Vargr seemed like slim pickings made easy.

“I can become animals, at any time. That’s it, I swear, after you bit me, I could just do it. It’s handy, It helps me get into houses easier, people have those pet flap door things, I just change into a dog or a cat and wander in, whenever I need the cash, I grab their stuff and leave.”

Vargr sounded like a stupid criminal if you ask me. Especially since it clearly didn’t occur to him to shape shift to fight either Conall or I.

“Versipellis.” Conall muttered lightly. Vargr looked over at him.

“What?”

Versipellis, the word rang around in my head. I’m sure one of the pack elders had told me the story of Versipellis before. Basically it translated to a shape shifter not bound by the usual limitations. They weren’t controlled by the lunar cycle and they didn’t neccessarily respond to the moon. The story I’d been told, made Versipellis sound like a trickester bogey man. Scary and troublesome. Of course, being told as a child, probably meant, a lot of things sound scary.

So I’d created a bogey man? Shape shifting had to have advantages. But I doubt Vargr knew that and I wasn’t about to let on. He clearly didn’t get the gift he’d been given or know how he’d gotten the way he was. He’d choosen to be criminal and now, he’d choosen to come back into my home. Brooklyn.

Conall clamped down again and continued to glare down at him. Vargr looked over to me desperately. He was literally backed into a corner. How utterly pathetic, my wolf was getting far too excited about how easy it would be to hurt him. I could feel the urge for blood lust coming on. It would be so easy for both Conall and I to take this douche bag out of existance. For god sakes, we were in a cemetary. Who’d look there for a freshly dead kill?

But I knew it was wrong. So I fought the wolf’s urges down.

“I should thank you for what you did for me.” Vargr stammered out quickly, still gasping slightly from his rib injury.

I shook my head and fought the urge to slap him senseless. I hated myself even more for having ever bit this scumbag. But maybe it wasn’t my doing, the Versipellis thing. Maybe that was a myth. A story told to children to keep their curosities and manners in line. Maybe Vargr had always been a shape shifter and never known how to activate that part of himself. Maybe it was all just a horrible coincedence.

Turning my back on him, indicating to Conall I was ready to get out of there. We moved towards the entrance.

“Get out!” I spat at him over my shoulder. “Tonight! Don’t ever show your face in Brooklyn again. If I hear about you robbing anyone in Brooklyn, I will see to it that you’re shredded out of your skin till you’re bled dry, and cut into pet food pieces.”

We walked out of the crypt.
Me leaving Vargr behind me, for good.

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