Teddy just stood there, his mouth opening and shutting like a stranded goldfish.

“I’ll take that as a no,” purred the wolf thing. “Come and take the weight off your feet. You look tired.”

Teddy suddenly did feel tired; he could have slept for a week. He rubbed his stinging eyes with the hem of his T-shirt.

Somehow, the wolf thing had got up from the table and was standing in front of him, without Teddy even noticing it had moved. How was this happening? It must be the shock of shooting that dog and feeling guilty about what he’d done to Nat Carver. This couldn’t be real.

But ugh … The wolf thing smelled very, very bad. It reminded Teddy of rotten fish. The wolf had amazing eyes, though. He could look at them forever….

When the wolf thing bit him, he felt nothing.

Lucas Scale howled in triumph. This tall, stocky fellow would make a fine werewolf. He had all the potential needed for their indestructible army: malice, strength, and greed. He flung the boy into a burlap sack and tossed the remains of the picnic basket aside. Although the boy was tall, Scale swung the sack over his shoulder with ease, the unconscious body thudding dully as Scale threw him unceremoniously into the back of the black Hummer.

Lucas Scale howled along to “Born to Be Wild” as he drove the monster car expertly through the narrow roads toward Helleborine Halt. His black, wormy heart was further lifted by the promise of capturing the Wolven.

Your turn next. He grinned at the thought. Oh, yes! You and your little human friend! What fun we will have.

CHAPTER 18
THE CHAMBER OF THE WOLF

The doors of the elevator slid together with a gentle whoooosh. Two massive figures, identically dressed in immaculate Valentino designer suits, faced each other in uneasy silence as they descended deep into the bowels of Helleborine Halt. They were late for an emergency meeting. Dr. Gruber’s mood had been precarious all week, and neither of them was keen on watching one of Gruber’s full-blown tantrums.

“You ready for this, bro?” inquired Vincent Spaghetti.

Angelo Spaghetti nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be, dude.”

The doors opened and the Spaghetti twins stepped out, their black patent Prada shoes twinkling in the subdued lighting that lined the winding corridors of rock. Angelo shuddered at the cries coming from one of the holding cells in the cavern below.

“Sounds like there’s a new kid on the block,” Vincent said morosely.

“The new blood,” agreed Angelo, and shivered. Poor, cursed creature, he thought to himself.