There was only one part of my story that didn’t check out. The cops found blood in the kitchen, but they didn’t say anything about Myra’s body.

No Myra.

I could only guess what had happened to her. Probably nothing good. Whatever the case, she was out of my hands now. Probably long gone. In a way, if she did turn into one of those things, I was happy for her. At least she was alive. I liked her. I’d hate for her to have died that way.

The LAPD were kind enough to let me go at four am with their usual warning to get a real job. They warned that if I wanted to operate in Los Angeles I’d better get the proper license. Fuck them. Where the hell do you get a license for what I do anyway? Idiots.

I drove back to Sam’s place feeling every slice and break on my body. Total: two hundred plus stitches, a broken rib, twisted ankle, and bruises the size of footballs everywhere. Overall, I’d say I was damn lucky to be alive. And my pay for all this was one big-ass zero.

I was glad to be back at Sam’s. It was cozy, in a pathetic, disgusting sort of way. There was beer in the fridge, whiskey on the desk, and an answering machine full of angry bill collectors that I didn’t have to worry about because, for once, they weren’t after me. I shed my clothes, shredded and crunchy with dried blood, and took a long shower.

When I came out, she was waiting for me in the living room.

Myra squatted, snarling at me in her wolf form. She must have followed me. She was small and still feminine, but mean looking, with glaring red eyes that didn’t blink. Her claws extended and retracted over and over.

I tried to talk to her, to calm her down and tell her we didn’t have to do it this way, but she was gone. Her eyes showed no sign of recognition.

I backed away slowly, but with every step I took she advanced two. She was so close that I could feel her hot breath on me.

“Myra,” I whispered, “Walk away. Don’t do this.”

The she-wolf just growled.

I was fucked for the second time in a night. I kept backing away, but she kept coming. Soon, my back was against a wall with nothing in reach.

I slugged her as hard and fast as I could. She wasn’t expecting that, and she reeled backward, losing her balance. I did it again. This time I caught her right in the snout, and she yelped and swiped at my chest, catching a bit of skin. Before she recovered I grabbed the desk chair and smashed it across her head.

She was down, and hurting, so I hit her again, then again, until all I was holding were two splintered chair legs.