She Who Runs With Wolves

CH 15

Chapter 15

Not Really Over

Mark Donald was having a nice night, squatting in a house owned by a nice family who were in America because the littlest wanting to meet Princess Ariel. The redhead sharpen his hunting knife when there was a knock on the door and a cry of “Help me!”

Mark knew he shouldn’t have answered the door but the knocking was so panicked he had to play hero. He opened the door and was face to face with a teenager. She was a good-looking teen too. Not the skinniest but her curves made up for that. She was at least a head shorter than him. The teen had ripped blue jeans on and converses with the American flag on them. Her shirt was hidden behind a black jumper. Her brown hair was choppily cut and hung around her neck, she had a small plate at the side. On top of her head was a blue knitted beanie. The girl’s eyes were a lovely shade of green. All in all the girl was cute and as a 25 year old with a job that doesn’t allow him time to indulge in more pleasing activities, he thought that this could go somewhere.

“You got to help me!” The teen said, breathing fast. “I just need somewhere to hide for a couple of hours!”

“Why?” Mark asked, trying to make it not so obvious what he wanted.

“Angry ex, man!” she half shouted, “Let me in please!”

“Sure, sure,” He said, ushering the teen into the house.

The girl rushed in and closed the door, she then sat on the couch.

“So,” Mark said, sitting next to her, “What’s your name?”

The girl paused but then quickly said, “Dana.”

“I’m Mark.”

“Well, Mark,” Dana said, stretching, “Lovely house ya got here.”

Mark sat down next to her with his legs spread so that their knees were touching.

“Yes it is,” Mark commented.

Dana looked at their connected knees with a poisonous glare. She then looked around the lounge and hurriedly got up. She half jogged over to a little box and pulled out a small stuffed toy from it. It was a dragon plushie from that children’s movie. Mark couldn’t remember the name.

“Oh My God!” Dana exclaimed, “Its Toothless!”

Mark nodded.

“I love this movie!” She squealed, “I love how it’s all about family and friendship and dark as it is light!”

She held the plushie close to her chest and slowly walked around Mark and stood behind him.

“I once had a Family,” She muttered in his ear.

Mark was confused.

“Until Hunters like you took them away from me.” She growled.

Something hit Mark on the back of the head, hard and he blacked out.

It took Mark three tries to wake up. The first try he partially opened his eyes and saw Dana tying his arm to a chair. The second try he stayed awake longer than the last. He opened his eyes all the way and saw he was in the hose’s kitchen. Dana was leaning over the sink doing something with her face. She made a triumphant sound and held a finger with a green contact lens high in the air. The third try he managed to stay awake. He opened his eyes to Dana sitting in chair in front of him, holding a nail file, filing her claws.

“Werewolf,” he hissed.

Dana looked at him with silver eyes. She smile widely showing her elongated canines.

“Hello Sleepyhead,” she said.

“Dana,” said Mark.

“Name’s not Dana,” The teen said, “Name’s Felicia Lyne, Mark.”

“Felicia,” Mark said annoyed, “Let me go.”

Felicia looked at Mark, a look of someone who is thoroughly entertain on her face.

“Like I’m got to do that,” she laughed.

She held the pointy end of the nail file over Mark’s leg and plunged it into his knee. Mark wanted to wince but he knew if he did Felicia would move on to torture. Felicia reached under her chair and pulled out a metal baseball bat.

“Now Mark,” she said, “I need to you to tell me a few things or else I will have to get, let’s say, creative.”

Mark looked at her, defiantly.

“All I need is the location of your fellow hunters,” She explained, “Their names are John and Paul”

“They’re in England,” Mark said immediately.

Felicia laughed.

“Oh you hunters are so predictably, always ready to rat out you friends.”

She stood and held her bat, preparing to swing.

“You said you wouldn’t kill me!” shouted Mark.

“I said I wouldn’t get creative.”

She angled her bat so it would hit his head.

“This isn’t that creative.”

Felicia swung.

“Happy Birthday to me.”

I would say the end but a story is never really over until the main character is dead.