Read by Dave Thompson
Originally published in Monsters & Mormons, edited by Wm Henry Morris and Theric Jepson
The wolf growled in his lungs, and Clark felt a bit of its frustration pass over his lips. Fifteen minutes to dawn. His fingers trembled as he worked the transmission into place.
And then, he was done.
Too soon! He realized it, and so the wolf realized it too, and he could feel it stretching within him, its claws scraping the skin beneath his fingernails. Clark hunted for something to tighten, something to adjust, some bit of grease to wipe away. His fingers tumbled along the skin of the motorcycle while his eyes hunted the corners of the garage. Something to catch his mind, something to distract him… There were the shadows scattered throughout the garage, the gleam of his tools in the overhead brights. And the red of his toolbox, red as blood, as red as a predator’s tongue…
The wolf scrambled in his throat; his prayer came out guttural. De profundis, Clark thought. Out of the deep have I howled unto thee, O Lord.
Rated R. Contains violence, some of it self-inflicted. Happy Easter!