American Werewolf in Volterra
It was just a European Vacation, for Ian Alexander, who is suddenly swept up in a crazy world that is just too surreal to believe. But he's now a werewolf in one of the largest dens in history, submissive to an asshole who is intent on destroying every vampire in the world. Worse, when rumors of a pup surface, both worlds rush to find it, ready to kill whoever is sheltering the kid. Of course, Ian would be the one to find it. But he can't bring himself to want to hurt the little kid, or the outspoken woman who protects him. Sequel to Horripilation
Back after after a two year hiatus. Not sure how long I will be writing. Had some pretty serious life changes and this is just a random, anonymous way to vent. All of it still belongs to Stephanie Meyer. Still hate Bella and Edward, still love the Volturi, even crazy Jane. This is the third story in the arch: I Need You to Love Me and Horripilation. It would be helpful to read those before this, but I warn you that my writing has matured. I learned that there was such a thing as writing vocab and not just a spoken vernacular, so that was a big deal.
1. One Year Ago
Rating 0/5 Word Count 1343 Review this Chapter
One Year Ago…
“Welcome to Italy’s greatest secret, Voltera!!” the beautiful tour guide exclaimed throwing her arms into the air. As she yelled above the boisterous crowd, fireworks exploded in the ebony sky. People oohed and ahhed as the bright colors crackled in the dark night. They pointed and whispered to each other, thrilled to see the sights and sounds of the wondrous city. No one cared what the guide had to say.
“Mommy!” cried one little boy as he jerked on his mother’s hand. “It’s a carnival! Look, Mommy!”
His mother sighed exasperatedly as her son tried to pull her away from the tour. “Trent, stop that,” she chastised him. “We have to stay with the group!”
“He’s just excited, Terry,” the boy’s father said. “He doesn’t understand,”
“Everyone, please stay together!” continued the tour guide. “We don’t want anyone to wander away and get lost! The hills go on for miles around here; if you don’t know your way around, it’s a gigantic maze. And if you look this way, you will see the Great Clock Tower. It was built in 1786…”
“See, Terry?” Mark said. “Everything is okay. Those were just old wives tales they say to scare children,”
“And the recent murders that have been in the news? The wild animal attacks?” Terry shot back. Her dark eyes darted around the open city, probing for any sign of danger. “The people here are certainly scared of something,”
“They’re just superstitious,” her husband dismissed her fears. “And they know how to play it up for the tourists. This place is internationally ranked as one of the best scenic tourists sight sin Europe. It has to be fine for so many people to agree,”
“That,” Terry muttered under her breath, “Or everywhere else is absolutely horrible,”
“That’s the spirit,” Mark laughed exuberantly. “Come on. Let’s not get left behind for our tour!”
“A midnight tour I ask you?” terry followed her husband, son in hand. “Who ever heard of such a thing?”
“I rather quite like it,” Mark admitted. “It is really different,”
Terry smiled for the first time. “It is, isn’t it?”
All around them, people were dancing and laughing. The music was bright and gay, reminding her of Riverdance. If she had any talent and no son, Terry would have pulled Mark into the foray. Girls in bright dresses were twirled and spun around by their grinning beaus. Laughs littered in the sparkling air as the local band played boisterously. It was a night for young love, just as the festival celebrated, and it was intoxicating.
The people of Voltera seemed exceptionally beautiful, Terry noted as they moved in front of a looming castle. Many were outrageously pale with sharp but gorgeous features and fluid movements. It was like watching classically trained dancers.
“Beautiful,” she commented.
Mark quirked an eyebrow. “Would you care to join them?” he asked her.
Terry blushed. “I’d love to,”
Mark laughed. “And what about you, son?” he said to Trent.
But the little boy’s answer was never heard. There was a sudden scream, piercing like a knife. The entire atmosphere shattered in an instant. Terry scooped Trent up in her arms as a panicked girl broke through the crowd. Her hair was matted and her ripped clothes were stained in blood. Not all of it was hers. Looking wildly around, she collapsed on her knees. “Help me,” she croaked out.
A loud howl echoed in the night. The girl fell face first to the ground but nobody cared for a second later a great beast burst into the crowded city square. The town was so small that you could see from one to the other. In the darkness around the light, dark figures prowled, romping and howling. The best in the middle of the square snarled and shook its mangy head. Foam dripped from its mouth as it surveyed the crowd with its pitch black eyes.
“Oh, dear God,” Terry prayed thoughtlessly.
“Come on,” Mark gripped her arm hard. “We have to get out of here. Now!”
“What’s going on?” she asked him.
“Hell if I know,” he muttered, pushing his way through running people. He could hear the beast barking and howling. People were screaming as well. It had stopped watching them and had started to attack. “The hotel isn’t far from here.”
There was a rush of hot air behind him and then his wife’s hand was no longer in his. Whipping around, he didn’t even hear her scream. His son, who had been held safe in his mother’s arms, lay on the ground, crying. His mother was beside him and limp. Over her loomed a shaggy wolf with tattered clothes hanging on its limbs and trailing behind it like bloody shadows. It was gnawing at his wife’s throat.
“Theresa!” he screamed.
A pale child darted past him in a split second. It leapt onto the wolf’s back and pulled. The boy was joined by a young redhead. There was a pain filled howl and then nothing. Mark blinked and a dead wolf lay on his feet, its heart ripped out and its head ripped off. Pale children with blood red eyes now stared at Mark.
“Witnesses,” said the redhead. She looked at Mark and then at Trent. “He’s so young,”
“Go,” ordered the boy. “Help the others. I’ll finish up here,”
The girl nodded and was gone. Mark wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but the words couldn’t come put of his throat. Nothing would ever come out of his throat again, he realized as his limp, bloodless body slumped to the floor. The last thing he thought was that he hoped the boy would spare his son.
People frantically ran through the crowded streets, trying to escape the beasts that were so suddenly everywhere. The full moon overhead turned foreboding, and they all knew. They had been fools to ignore the rumors. It had seemed to strange, too far-fetched to be real. But the disappearances had grown more and more frequent as the months went on, and the bodies were more brutally mauled with every discovery. Their only hope was that the vampires of Voltera would stop the werewolves before the city was overrun.
It was much easier to hide from a known predator than deal with two, especially when one was as visceral as the lukanthrōpos.
“Mama!” another child ran through the streets lost. His mama and papa had been with him just a second ago. Then it got dark, and they went away. The city was big and the buildings were tall. He did not know where he was. “Mama!”
A great big wolf was nearby. It kept sniffing the air and then looking at him. It watched him but he wasn’t scared. It was his friend. “Mama?” he called again.
Two arms picked him up. He looked at dark hair and pretty white skin. She looked like an angel the way she glowed in the dark. “Mama?” he repeated one of the few words he knew.
“No pup,” she answered.
She looked at him as she ran fast. Her eyes were gold and pretty. “Cosa,” he said another of the three words he knew.
The woman smiled. “Cosa, little pup,” she said.
The wolf nearby howled forlornly. Yma bristled and crouched defensively. There was a sadness in the dark, glassy eyes of the contorted wolf and a heartfelt whine. Clutching the pup to her chest, Emma nodded to the wolf just as a skinny man bounded up to her.
He had white hair, which Cosa thought was odd, and he was very tall. The pretty lady wasn’t as tall as Mama. “Mordecai,” she was saying. “He’s alone,”
“What have you done?” the man said. “He’s a pup,”
“I know,” the angel agreed. “But that was his mother. She wanted me to take him,”
The man with white haired snorted and shook his head. “Hurry,” the man took her arm protectively and they ran faster. “Before she regains her senses,”
Cosa blinked, confused. “Mama?”
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