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Sam…

Sam didn’t know if it was excitement, or a side effect of the ointment, but there was a metallic taste lingering in his mouth. At the edges of his vision, there were moments of blurriness where he caught flashes of movement. He held his hands in front of himself. There was no sign of emerging hair or structural change. That was a disappointment, but the night was still early. It might take time. He moved closer to his makeshift cauldron.

This time, Sam had avoided the ingredients that Cary was so enamored of, such as bits of fur and bones. There was no evidence in the old texts to support the med student’s ideas. But if things had gone differently with the wounded werewolf, he might have added the guy’s blood or tissue into the herbal mix. Just in case Cary was on to something.

There had been no time to gather samples. Everything had happened fast, and Sam was damn lucky that the crippled lady had assumed he was the safe one. Sam chuckled under his breath. It was amazing how white skin, a good haircut, and a decent pair of shoes could skew someone’s perception. He counted on such things for camouflage. The others took them for granted.

Richy rich boys, the three of them had been born into wealth. Sam’s family had gained their wealth within his lifetime. They were new rich. When Sam was born, there had been an accident, a slip of the knife that had killed his mother, and almost taken his life. His father had sued the hospital into oblivion. Sam had been the source of his father’s seed money for his aggressive investment company. His father’s lucky charm.

“Lucky. Lucky little Sam,” he whispered as he dropped in more mushrooms. Freeing his mind might free his body from its attachment to his human body. The smell rising from the cauldron was earthy, warm, and inviting. The time simmering had thickened the concoction. His own recipe this time. Sam spooned the contents into the shallow wooden bowl, waiting on a flat stone. He’d done shrooms before and toyed with the rainbow world of whispering trees. He didn’t know what secrets they would tell him tonight.

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The bit of mushrooms he separated from the pile in his eagerness and impatience burned his fingertips and then his tongue. How much could he safely consume? Blowing on the next tendril of stem, he ignored the burn that dulled his taste buds and numbed his mouth and tongue to take another bite.

The leaves ringed themselves in gold and he watched them pulse as if containing a heart beat. His lungs felt heavy in his chest, each breath vibrating a thunder cloud. Physical stillness felt unnatural. His twitching body demanded movement, wanted speed. Before he had decided in his expanding mind, his body lifted him from his crouch and he was racing down a deer path, high grass and leaves striking his legs. Faster and faster he ran, lifting with each stride into the wind, light as a leaf, fast as a flooding river.

*

Balor…

“Did you call him?” Balor asked Cary, standing on his back porch, enjoying the night. “Our little Sam rarely misses our full moon gatherings.”

Cary shrugged. “I’ve tried twice. No answer. Maybe he was trapped into spending tonight with his besotted the doting linguist.”

“I wish I had thought to be a man whore.” Balor grinned.

“It’s not too late for you.” Cary took a pull from his artisanal beer. He gestured toward the house. “If the wifey doesn’t mind.”

“She does what I tell her.” Balor stretched in the night air and shuddered with the pleasure of the moonlight. It had been almost a year since he had wed the girl to shut his parents up. He was tired of her.

Cary dropped his body onto the comfortable patio furniture and kicked up his legs onto a rattan foot stool. “And where is Orp?” The man rolled a cigar between his fingertips, feeling its density before he reached into his pocket for a cutter.

“In my basement, enjoying the specific skills of my pretty little wife.”

“She doesn’t mind?”

Balor shrugged. “She burned one of my shirts.”

“How badly? Can I be next?”

“Of course you can, my friend.” Balor grinned and accepted the cigar that Cary offered him. “She’ll be more likely to be careful next time.” He clicked his tongue. “I really liked that shirt.”