When I came back to life, I was a wolf. It was adequate. Legs were shorter than I like, but long enough I could walk on them without difficulty. Pretty fresh, so the eyes weren’t even clouded over. Not like the ones I’m using now. Would have preferred black fur, but the russet coat was fine. Waited until the mortician went home and unzipped the body bag. If you’ve been at this as long as I have, you know how to do it from the inside. Ask nice and I might show you how. You never know when you’ll need it.

Once I got my bearings, I moved on. Felt a bit drained. There’s always a breaking in period when I enter a new body. No two people move completely alike. I’d been in the badger for years, so all my muscle memory was for muscles I didn’t have. Had to relearn how to climb stairs without falling on my face. I adjust quick enough, so I was out and about within a couple days.

Part of me wanted to run and hide. Would be foolish to pursue the gray, hulking monster that took me down. I barely even knew what it was. But, that thing was still out there. I’m not one to leave the hornet’s nest alone, never have been, even if this was just one big, angry hornet. Had to figure out what I was dealing with and how to take him down.

Have to admit, some of it was pride. I’m still pretty angry he shattered me so easily. It’s a natural state for anyone. If someone kills you, you want to kill them back. Yeah, I was mad as Hell with no idea where to even start looking. Didn’t go back to the theatre. I was in another state when I revived. Knew he wouldn’t be there, no point in going.

I stuck around where I was. Lots of small towns, so I looked around places I thought he might be. Theatres and anywhere kids might gather. If he ended up anywhere, it’d be where he can find victims. Stalked around for a while. Found some bodies and I’m sure the police did too. Look up the reports. Wherever there are missing children, pretty sure he’s involved.

Finally tracked him down in Ewerdale. Town was a little bigger than the ones I’d been looking through. The public library was impressive; funded by some retired farmer with a passion for philanthropy. Or maybe just a guilty conscience. Isn’t my place to judge, as the kids seemed to like it. Had a little playground inside to get them more interested in books. The local… well, some elderly association put on a story time event. Think pensioners dressing up as literary characters and reading to kids as they spilled their provided juice and snacks on the carpet. Some of them may have even paid attention.

It got out late. A lot of the families already left, either because of tantrums or having better things to do. I was waiting in the stairwell. I checked the entire building for hiding spots, anywhere that gray freak might be slinking around. No sign of him anywhere. For just a moment, I figured he might not make an appearance. I couldn’t have been more stupid.

The last two kids and one elderly man lingered in the lobby. The kids were a little bull and a white furred mouse, the old gentleman a terrier dressed up like a pirate. Even had a foam rubber parrot pinned to his shoulder. The lights were down. Librarians probably in the process of closing up and passive aggressively signaling it was time to leave. Tried to warn them not to do that earlier. Didn’t listen.

A gnarled, gray hand snatched the bull into the dark. The spray of blood came next. Screams for help from the old terrier followed. He ran to help the bull. Didn’t stand a chance. I could hear his death rattle from my hiding spot. Split open like a baked potato. The little mouse ran for the exit, but he was too fast for her. He leapt from the shadows and landed with a heavy thud, cutting off her path to the exit.

I never was very religious, but if someone ever told me they saw a demon, he’s what I would picture. Just seeing his face doesn’t do him justice; the whole package is much worse. I’ll never forget that body. He’s tall. Probably about seven and a half feet. When he first killed me, I thought he was proportioned like a human. I was incorrect. The rest of him is just as twisted as his face. Long, large boned arms that reached to his knees with massive, gnarled fingers like the roots of an evil tree. He was broad shouldered, large enough he shouldn’t have been able to hide in the shadows as well as he did. His entire body had that leathery, uniformly gray flesh covering it. Only hair to be seen was that messy mop on top of his head. Face too long, jaw too square, he looked like an artist’s depiction of the monster under their bed. The one that crawled out on spindly legs, climbed up the ceiling, and descended on you to devour you before you could yell for mother.

And those eyes. Steel gray, piercing. His whole pallor was dull, but those peered out like freezing embers in a fog. I hate those eyes. If I ever finally get ahold of him, I want the last thing he sees to be my thumbs jammed into his eye sockets.

He grabbed the little mouse girl. Picked her up with one hand like she weighed as much as a light reading novella. She screamed. A lot. Dangling there and kicking her feet. Nowhere near long enough to reach him with that lengthy arm, not that it would have mattered.

No running for either of us. He saw me and I saw him. I demanded he put the girl down, trying to distract him while the two remaining librarians circled behind him. I managed to convince them of the threat he posed. They agreed to aid me in taking him down, provided he made an appearance. Not certain they believed me until they saw him; likely just humoring me up until the moment he showed his hideous face.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

They lunged at him in tandem. One went to his left, one to his right. I doubt he saw them coming until they were nearly upon him. He dropped the girl and she ran off into the night. Smart, precocious little thing; I would’ve done the same.

The librarians did less well. One was a fat bear. Big, lots of mass, no fighting ability. The gray man backhanded him so hard his head came off. I knew he was strong, but that was on another level. Wasn’t enough to make the thin, matronly pine marten back off. She tried to bite him. In the same motion that took off the bear’s head, he swung his arm under his overcoat and pulled out a sickle. Yes, an archaic farming tool, but bigger than it should have been. Had to be to fit his massive hand. Probably custom made, if you need something to investigate. She didn’t even make it to him before the sickle separated her head from her body.

I didn’t want to get near him. Figured with how he crushed my head last time, I wouldn’t do too well attempting to fistfight him. Now, detectives, don’t be mad at me for this, but I had a gun. Yes, I didn’t acquire it legally. I don’t make it a habit to do things outside the law, but this was necessary. I needed something to defend myself against him. I’m not exactly able to get an identification card and the bodies I enter seldom have one on their person. The way I saw it, the monster I was up against necessitated such a thing.

I’m not certain what kind of gun it was. A handgun of some type. Big. I’ve fired large caliber guns before and I stopped keeping track of innovations in firearm technology decades ago. I trained it on him as he walked toward me. I pulled the trigger until the gun was empty. It fired eight times. I hit him seven of those times. A nice grouping on his chest, punching bloody holes in his white shirt.

He flinched slightly, but it was more from the impact of the bullets. It did not cause him to break his stride. Didn’t slow him down. The bastard was bulletproof. I had time to utter a curse on his ancestry before his sickle bisected my head. I was dead. Again.

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Thorpe leaned back in his chair. He paused in case the detectives had any questions or comments. He hoped they would not, but knew they would. Law enforcement across the eras were a curious lot. Many could be made less curious with a little money, but that was not his purpose and he doubted they were the type to be swayed by lucre.

The lion cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. A little cream and sugar in it this time. No time for supper earlier, so this was the best he could do. “You said this happened in Ewerdale? I read the case file on that earlier. Your story checks out. For the most part.”

Thorpe tilted his head. The nice thing about being dead was he could hide being annoyed quite well. Corpses are not particularly emotive. Also helped to hide the surprise that they were looking at a file related to him on the same night he came to find them. Life could be a series of odd coincidences. While Thorpe did not believe in the goodness of a higher power, he had to admire the universe’s sense of humor.

“I’d be happy to elaborate upon any details to your satisfaction, detective.” He offered.

“The young mouse did get away. The Ewerdale police department tried to get her version of the events, but she wouldn’t talk to them.” The sloth said.

“Not trusting of police? How tragic.” Thorpe replied.

The sloth shook his head. “She hasn’t much talked to anyone since then. Gets really nervous around wolves, though. And humans. Can’t stand to be near them. Any comment on that?”

Thorpe’s turn to shake his head. He felt a pang of regret deep inside. “I’m afraid not, but such trauma cannot be easy for the young. She has my sympathy, being witness to such a thing at her age.” He tried to smile. Paying a visit to her might be in Thorpe’s future. Checking on her and talking her through what happened could put her mind at ease. He made a mental note to do that when this was all done. Finding her would be simple enough; he tracked people down before.

“Kids shouldn’t have to deal with anything like that.” The lion commented. “Something else unusual. It’s about the librarians. The ones you said helped you fight off the Farmer.”

Thorpe tilted his head. An unreadable look crossed his face, the flesh on his muzzle tightening for a moment. “What of them?”

“Their wounds were fatal, both sets of them. One set had signs of bleeding, the other set after the blood already coagulated.” The lion leaned in. “What do you know about that?’

Thorpe sighed. Elaborating on his power set was something he wished to avoid. Most found magic distasteful, and that was the stuff that did not involve dead bodies. That was just counting the people who knew about it, which was a small number. No avoiding it now.

“I may have… encouraged them to keep fighting after the first set of fatal wounds.” He held up his paws and continued before they could interrupt him. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. It’s not a task I take lightly. And it’s no more dark than what medical science does to keep people alive. I merely kept them in tact and alive to fight.”

“That sounds a bit dark to me.” The sloth stated.

Thorpe shook his head. “Sir, I have to respectfully disagree. Is it any stretch to believe a man capable of surviving death can prolong the life of others? What I did was healed them as they fought. And it does not come without a considerable cost to myself. I only have a limited amount of energy. I wanted to preserve their lives as long as possible.” Thorpe sighed. “Unfortunately, I failed. They did not last long against the farmer.”

The pair looked at each other. Thorpe felt his skin tighten. Almost looked like they would not believe him.

“Let’s move on.” The lion stated, seemingly mollified. “I’d like to hear what you did next time you met the farmer. Tell us about that, if you would.”

“With eagerness, but some displeasure, detectives.” Thorpe’s smile showed his yellow teeth. “No one likes recounting fatal injuries.”