Woody closed his eyes and puuuushed. In a seamless, fluid shift, his body shortened and shimmered out onto four legs. His shaggy head shifted into a Wolven muzzle, ears stretching into points, his body now covered in luxuriant gossamer fur that glowed under the harsh laboratory lighting.

Gabriel Gruber felt his feet lift off the floor as Woody sprang, knocking him over. Then Lucas Scale let his own change take over. Still smarting from the bogus bee attack, he welcomed the opportunity to teach the Wolven a lesson. He reared up and Woody faced him: Wolven to wolf. The lab assistants watched in terror as the deformed werewolf and the Wolven circled briefly, then lunged at each other, moving so fast they seemed to become a gray blur. They snapped and snarled, each trying to bring the other down.

Although not as strong as Scale, Woody was nimbler. He weaved in and out of Scale’s bandy legs, snapping and nipping just above the paws. When Scale fell, he fell on top of Woody, taking him by surprise. He pinned Woody by the throat, and it became clear to Gabriel that he would have to intervene. Werewolves were virtually indestructible, but Wolven, Gabriel knew from past experience, were not.

With the aid of an electronic shark prod and a wire noose, two of the largest lab technicians managed to remove Scale from Woody. With the noose around Woody’s neck, he was dragged and fastened to the same table his mother had died on. Morphing between Wolven and human, he howled for his lost mother.

The howls reached deep into the bowels of the Halt, where Angelo and Vincent waited for the elevator.

“This sucks like a vacuum cleaner, bro,” said Angelo Spaghetti, shaking his head as he listened to Woody’s heartbreaking howling.

“Yeah,” agreed Vincent, “we had kids that age in our old lives. I’m outta here.”

“Would you have hurt them?” asked Angelo, staring at his twin. “If we had caught them, I mean.”

“I wasn’t a bad man, was I?” asked Vincent.

His brother shook his head. “You were the best, bro.”

“And that’s the last order I take from Gruber,” vowed Vincent.

“So what’re we going to do now?” asked Angelo.

“Only one thing to do, bro,” said Vincent, his eyes flashing amber. “How about we rip this place apart!”

Angelo grinned. “Now you’re talking!”

The elevator landed with a shivering sigh, and the Spaghetti brothers waited for the doors to open.

“Get your hands up!” hissed a voice from above.

Angelo and Vincent peered upward to the hatch in the roof of the elevator. To their amazement, the camouflaged face of a woman peered back at them. To their further amazement, she had a revolver pointed straight at them.

“Unless you have a silver bullet in there, madam,” said Vincent politely, “that gun isn’t going to do you much good, I’m afraid.”