“Who killed me?” I asked Denaux with newfound dark intrigue. “You know, don't you?”
Denaux sighed heavily. “First, a drink,” he waved me to follow along. “I'm parched.”
“And I'm dead,” I harangued him, storming around to his face.
“Don't mean ya can't enjoy a few adult libations none. Ya dead, chère, not a Mormon.”
“You won't be in need of those drinks,” a twangy voice called out from the darkness behind us.
Our gaze turned towards five black suited men, sauntering forward through the graveyard. “It was just too easy to lure you out, LaForge,” the head man said.
Denaux grinned. “Why so certain you haven't fallen into my trap?”
The men unveiled handguns from their persons, locked and loaded. “Her soul, just like all the others, is forfeit,” the head man chided. “It's time for you to end this foolish crusade against my employer.”
I looked to Denaux with fire raging in my eyes. “So it was these guys, huh?”
Denaux bounced his brow fruitfully in playful acknowledgment. “The name you're looking for is Perrault--”
“There will be no further discussion. Your life...and that of this puppet--”
“Hey!” I growled, stomping forward, but being held back in restraint by Denaux's swinging staff.
“Feisty one,” the head man replied. ”Not like the other ones. I'll be happy to send you back to the grave,” he added, levying his gun towards me, his other men raising their own weapons in unison.
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A ferocious growl welled up from my chest, causing the men to hesitate and retreat slightly. I could feel the blood...well not sure on that...something coursing through my veins. Rage was one of them.
A hand fell upon my shoulder. “You aren't ready for this yet,” Denaux whispered. “Those aren't normal guns.” He nodded at the weapons cradled tightly in their hands.
I looked at him with trepidation.
“It might be time to skedaddle,” he coughed up, motioning away with his head.
HOOWWLL!
Everyone froze, looking around for the source of the shiver sending bellow that had pierced the sound barrier around us.
Suddenly, a guttural cry rang out in the moonlit night, as one of the gunmen fell to the ground and was dragged viciously between headstones, pawing mounds of grassy knoll with him before his cries fell silent.
The other gunmen turned to face the looming darkness behind them, raising their weapons toward the abyss.
“What's going on?” the head man trembled, frantically searching the space with terror filled eyes.
“Arghhh!” Another gunman was picked off and thrown thirty yards away, screaming all the way until his landing, impaling brutally upon an iron wrought fence post.
“Show yourself!” the head man yelled, his men whirling around, shaking their guns in any, and every direction possible.
All the while, we remained frozen. I glanced at Denaux to find his jovial attitude turned into something else. Something truly uncanny for him.
Fear.
The other two gunmen reacted too slowly, as a massive shadowed creature sliced their innards with cruel precision, their gunfire an errant echo throughout the hallowed grounds.
“Oh god,” the head man exalted, watching the fanged beast rise and tower over him in bloodcurdling glory.
It roared with malice as it chomped the formerly arrogant head clean off, tearing flesh with ease, and dropped it to the ground with ease, the distorted face illuminated in forever preserved terror under the opulent glow of the full moon.
“Not god...” Denaux softened, actual gravity in his tone for once. The massive wolf turned to face us, a reddened flow of droplets trickling down razor sharp fangs, its crimson eyes glowing inhumanely.
“A monster.”