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Dark of the Moon
© 2024 by Walter Reimer and E.O. Costello
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Eight
“What the hell was that?”
I turned and ended up nose to snout with Mary. She had Shifted, maybe from the shock of being shot at. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She patted herself and said, “I think so.” She sniffed. “What about you?”
My turn to check. There was a small flaw in my jacket, probably a graze. “I’m – “ I lost my breath as she suddenly hugged me, and she had a good grip. It was automatic, and I found myself hugging her as she started to shake. I just held her, said “Shh, you’re okay” a few times, and slowly I felt her heartbeat slow down.
Naturally, the gunfire brought people out into the street, and at least one person was shouting. I wasn’t paying attention, a sad state of affairs for a newspaper reporter.
Her eyes were just as pretty in her wolf form as in her human.
Her shakes ended and we finally stepped away from each other as a few howls went up and I turned toward the street just as someone entered the alley. Big fellow, lots of muscle, Shifted, and hefting a baseball bat. “What happened?” he asked gruffly. He glanced past me. “Mary?” His ears went flat against his head and he started looking at me again.
“Billy.”
The big guy jerked his muzzle in my direction. “This guy giving you trouble?”
“This guy just saved my life, Billy.” The big wolf lowered the bat, which made me feel better. I had been recalling the best places to hit a werewolf, just in case of course. I felt her come up to stand beside me and we stepped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.
A lot of people were out in the street, both human and were. The bullets had gouged holes in the masonry along the building and ruined one of a drugstore’s windows. It had closed an hour or so earlier, so apart from the property damage no one was hurt. As I watched the lights came on inside, and the druggist started wringing his hands.
More howling seemed to go from open windows to rooftops and spread far and wide, and a cop came at a run from the direction the car had gone. He holstered his revolver and caught his breath before he started waving his arms. “All right, all right!” he shouted. “Stop that howling! I can’t understand it, and I need to know what’s going on here!”
The noise overhead began to drop off, and I walked over to the cop. “I can help you, Officer.”
“Oh, you can, huh?” He dug out his notepad and a pencil. “What’s your name?”
A small crowd had gathered as I dug out my press pass. The purple-striped one. We walked over to the streetlight so he could read it and he copied some of the information down. “Where do you hang your hat, Walshe?” I told him and he said, “Bit off the beaten path for you.”
“I was a guest for dinner – “
“With me and my family,” Mary said, pushing her way forward. She hadn’t Shifted back, and the look on the cop’s face, well, let’s say it was not complimentary.
“Uh-huh. Okay, Walshe, tell me what happened.”
I looked around and leaned in close. “You sure you want all them to hear this?”
“What?”
“Werewolves can hear better than me and you,” I said. The penny dropped, and we went to the other side of the street. At first Mary started to follow, but I glanced back at her and she nodded. She Shifted back and was talking to Billy when I said, “Okay. I was having dinner with her family, and we decided to go for a walk afterward.”
He nodded, writing it down. “Okay.”
“I heard a car pulling out of the intersection, back there,” and I pointed, “and headed in our direction. They speeded up, and I hustled the lady into the alley just as they started shooting.”
“Good reflexes.”
I sighed. “Fighting through North Africa and half of Europe will teach you a few things.” It was the truth. I never got a Purple Heart. Mom said that it was her prayers that kept me safe, and I’m sort of convinced she was right.
“Okay.” He closed his notepad. “I gotta call this in, of course. Hang around.”
“Will do,” I said, and started looking around for a phone booth. The lights were still on in the drugstore, and a few of the people in the neighborhood were helping the druggist sweep up.
I stepped inside. “Excuse me,” I said to the druggist, “can I use your phone?” I jerked a thumb at the wooden booth in a corner.
The druggist was a little old man, and he gave an exasperated wave at the booth. “Help yourself,” he said.
“I won’t be long,” I said, and I stepped into the booth, shut the door, and fished out some loose change. I dropped a nickel in the slot, waited for the dial tone, and quickly dialed the night desk. “Hello? Yeah, this is Walshe, I need to talk to the editor . . . Sir? Pete Walshe. Listen, I just got shot at,” and I looked to see if anyone was hanging around, “and I could swear I saw a wolf silhouette in the car as it drove away from me. Yeah. No, nobody’s hurt, thank God . . . yeah, the cops are here, and I’ve given a statement . . . Bravermann’s Drugstore, near the corner of Charles and Hudson. Right, I’ll hang around until the photographer gets here.” I glanced at a harsh tap on the door and saw the cop looking at me. “Gotta go. Bye.” I hung up the phone and waited a few seconds.
Dammit.
I opened the door. “Sorry, Officer,” I said. “I had to call my newspaper.”
“Uh huh.” There were sirens in the distance. “C’mon outside.” I left the phone booth and followed him out into the street again.
The crowd was a little smaller, but Mary was still there, no longer Shifted. “Hey,” I asked the cop, “have you gotten her statement yet?”
“Yeah, I got a few notes.”
“Good. Mary?” She looked at me warily and took a few steps forward. “I’m going to be here a while, so I’d like you to go on home.” She looked ready to object, and I asked, “Please?” I looked past her. “Could you do me a favor when you get home?”
“What?” she asked.
“Please apologize to your Mom and Dad for me, and tell them I’ll be over as soon as I can to apologize in person.”
“Okay.” She stepped a little closer and put a hand to the side of my face. “You going to be okay?” I nodded, and she leaned in close and lightly kissed me on the cheek. As several in the crowd said “Ooh,” she turned, winked at me over her shoulder, and headed up the road to her parents’ house.
“Nice gal,” the cop remarked.
“Uh-huh,” I said, as I rubbed the side of my face.
Where’d that smile come from?
***
I was halfway through talking with Cunningham when Michael came up, at a run. “Hey, Knocko!” he said, stopping short and pausing to catch his breath. He hadn’t Shifted, either. “Mary told us all about what happened. We all heard the howling, and Mom and Dad were worried.”
“She made it home okay? Good,” I said. “Excuse us a moment,” I said to Cunningham, and I took Michael aside. I put my mouth close to his ear and said, “I saw what could’ve been a werewolf in the car after they shot at me.”
My nose was suddenly full of fur. I guess Shifting when surprised or shocked might run in the family, and I drew back to sneeze as Michael said, “You sure?”
“Sure enough to tell the Inspector about it,” I replied, “and I want you to relay that to Mrs. Terhune.” He gulped, but nodded. “But I want you to be careful, d’you hear? You watch your tail, and don’t go directly there, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” and he set off.
I went back to Cunningham. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Michael’s the brother of the young lady I was walking with.”
“Yeah, I’ve got Reynolds’ notes,” the Inspector said. “You sending him to talk to – “
“Yeah, I am.” I frowned as a cab pulled up and Armbruster and a guy with a camera got out. “Shit.”
“Well, you couldn’t keep it a secret,” Cunningham chuckled, and he went to face my competition from the Daily News. The camera guy, and the one that the World-Telly had sent, were comparing notes before the newcomer started taking pictures of the damage.
Armbruster finished talking to Cunningham and sauntered over to me. “Hiya, Knocko. Heard you got to play knight in shining armor.” He looked around. “Where’s the damsel in distress?”
“Hi, Dick,” I said. I was starting to feel tired. “She went back home.”
“Shame, I wouldn’t have minded talking to her. Of course,” and he glanced at a few people who’d stayed Shifted, “I’m no good at howling.”
I eyed him. “Depends,” I said cryptically.
He wasn’t stupid enough to ask, “On what?” so I could punch him in the nose. Instead, he gave me a smile. “Coming on the heels of the Terhune murder, are your furry friends starting to choose up sides?”
I shrugged. “Might be a stickball game or two.” Werewolves weren’t allowed to play professional sports, although Negroes had been since Robinson started playing for the Dodgers. It was a sore spot for some of the wolves I knew. “Why?”
“Just asking.” Yeah, I’ll bet. Armbruster had the look in his eyes that told me he was already writing his article in his head. When his photographer was done, the two of them headed out to find a cab.
“So,” Cunningham asked from just behind me, “what do you think? I’m starting to get pressure from above to get this taken care of before Hoover and the Feds decide to horn in.”
I sighed. “If I knew, I’d be telling you.” I cocked my head. “Did you read my last article?” He shook his head, and I said, “I had a talk with one of Terhune’s lawyers,” and that got his attention, “and it appears that Terhune was trying to create a United Nations-type thing for all werewolves worldwide.”
Cunningham tipped his hat back and whistled. “Wow, that’s one hell of a dream.”
I shrugged. “If you’re gonna dream, dream big. And I had someone give me an idea about where the barber might be hiding.”
“Yeah?” I told him, and he nodded. “Hm, yeah, might be worth a look, or have a talk with the new guys.” That meant the pretty new Transit Police, who the NYPD had set up three years ago. “If you hear anything, let me know, okay Knocko?”
“Will do,” I said. “Now I gotta get over to Barclay Street and beat up my typewriter.”
“Have fun.”
<PREVIOUS>
<NEXT>
<FIRST>
© 2024 by Walter Reimer and E.O. Costello
Thumbnail art by
pastelpastelEight
“What the hell was that?”
I turned and ended up nose to snout with Mary. She had Shifted, maybe from the shock of being shot at. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She patted herself and said, “I think so.” She sniffed. “What about you?”
My turn to check. There was a small flaw in my jacket, probably a graze. “I’m – “ I lost my breath as she suddenly hugged me, and she had a good grip. It was automatic, and I found myself hugging her as she started to shake. I just held her, said “Shh, you’re okay” a few times, and slowly I felt her heartbeat slow down.
Naturally, the gunfire brought people out into the street, and at least one person was shouting. I wasn’t paying attention, a sad state of affairs for a newspaper reporter.
Her eyes were just as pretty in her wolf form as in her human.
Her shakes ended and we finally stepped away from each other as a few howls went up and I turned toward the street just as someone entered the alley. Big fellow, lots of muscle, Shifted, and hefting a baseball bat. “What happened?” he asked gruffly. He glanced past me. “Mary?” His ears went flat against his head and he started looking at me again.
“Billy.”
The big guy jerked his muzzle in my direction. “This guy giving you trouble?”
“This guy just saved my life, Billy.” The big wolf lowered the bat, which made me feel better. I had been recalling the best places to hit a werewolf, just in case of course. I felt her come up to stand beside me and we stepped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.
A lot of people were out in the street, both human and were. The bullets had gouged holes in the masonry along the building and ruined one of a drugstore’s windows. It had closed an hour or so earlier, so apart from the property damage no one was hurt. As I watched the lights came on inside, and the druggist started wringing his hands.
More howling seemed to go from open windows to rooftops and spread far and wide, and a cop came at a run from the direction the car had gone. He holstered his revolver and caught his breath before he started waving his arms. “All right, all right!” he shouted. “Stop that howling! I can’t understand it, and I need to know what’s going on here!”
The noise overhead began to drop off, and I walked over to the cop. “I can help you, Officer.”
“Oh, you can, huh?” He dug out his notepad and a pencil. “What’s your name?”
A small crowd had gathered as I dug out my press pass. The purple-striped one. We walked over to the streetlight so he could read it and he copied some of the information down. “Where do you hang your hat, Walshe?” I told him and he said, “Bit off the beaten path for you.”
“I was a guest for dinner – “
“With me and my family,” Mary said, pushing her way forward. She hadn’t Shifted back, and the look on the cop’s face, well, let’s say it was not complimentary.
“Uh-huh. Okay, Walshe, tell me what happened.”
I looked around and leaned in close. “You sure you want all them to hear this?”
“What?”
“Werewolves can hear better than me and you,” I said. The penny dropped, and we went to the other side of the street. At first Mary started to follow, but I glanced back at her and she nodded. She Shifted back and was talking to Billy when I said, “Okay. I was having dinner with her family, and we decided to go for a walk afterward.”
He nodded, writing it down. “Okay.”
“I heard a car pulling out of the intersection, back there,” and I pointed, “and headed in our direction. They speeded up, and I hustled the lady into the alley just as they started shooting.”
“Good reflexes.”
I sighed. “Fighting through North Africa and half of Europe will teach you a few things.” It was the truth. I never got a Purple Heart. Mom said that it was her prayers that kept me safe, and I’m sort of convinced she was right.
“Okay.” He closed his notepad. “I gotta call this in, of course. Hang around.”
“Will do,” I said, and started looking around for a phone booth. The lights were still on in the drugstore, and a few of the people in the neighborhood were helping the druggist sweep up.
I stepped inside. “Excuse me,” I said to the druggist, “can I use your phone?” I jerked a thumb at the wooden booth in a corner.
The druggist was a little old man, and he gave an exasperated wave at the booth. “Help yourself,” he said.
“I won’t be long,” I said, and I stepped into the booth, shut the door, and fished out some loose change. I dropped a nickel in the slot, waited for the dial tone, and quickly dialed the night desk. “Hello? Yeah, this is Walshe, I need to talk to the editor . . . Sir? Pete Walshe. Listen, I just got shot at,” and I looked to see if anyone was hanging around, “and I could swear I saw a wolf silhouette in the car as it drove away from me. Yeah. No, nobody’s hurt, thank God . . . yeah, the cops are here, and I’ve given a statement . . . Bravermann’s Drugstore, near the corner of Charles and Hudson. Right, I’ll hang around until the photographer gets here.” I glanced at a harsh tap on the door and saw the cop looking at me. “Gotta go. Bye.” I hung up the phone and waited a few seconds.
Dammit.
I opened the door. “Sorry, Officer,” I said. “I had to call my newspaper.”
“Uh huh.” There were sirens in the distance. “C’mon outside.” I left the phone booth and followed him out into the street again.
The crowd was a little smaller, but Mary was still there, no longer Shifted. “Hey,” I asked the cop, “have you gotten her statement yet?”
“Yeah, I got a few notes.”
“Good. Mary?” She looked at me warily and took a few steps forward. “I’m going to be here a while, so I’d like you to go on home.” She looked ready to object, and I asked, “Please?” I looked past her. “Could you do me a favor when you get home?”
“What?” she asked.
“Please apologize to your Mom and Dad for me, and tell them I’ll be over as soon as I can to apologize in person.”
“Okay.” She stepped a little closer and put a hand to the side of my face. “You going to be okay?” I nodded, and she leaned in close and lightly kissed me on the cheek. As several in the crowd said “Ooh,” she turned, winked at me over her shoulder, and headed up the road to her parents’ house.
“Nice gal,” the cop remarked.
“Uh-huh,” I said, as I rubbed the side of my face.
Where’d that smile come from?
***
I was halfway through talking with Cunningham when Michael came up, at a run. “Hey, Knocko!” he said, stopping short and pausing to catch his breath. He hadn’t Shifted, either. “Mary told us all about what happened. We all heard the howling, and Mom and Dad were worried.”
“She made it home okay? Good,” I said. “Excuse us a moment,” I said to Cunningham, and I took Michael aside. I put my mouth close to his ear and said, “I saw what could’ve been a werewolf in the car after they shot at me.”
My nose was suddenly full of fur. I guess Shifting when surprised or shocked might run in the family, and I drew back to sneeze as Michael said, “You sure?”
“Sure enough to tell the Inspector about it,” I replied, “and I want you to relay that to Mrs. Terhune.” He gulped, but nodded. “But I want you to be careful, d’you hear? You watch your tail, and don’t go directly there, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” and he set off.
I went back to Cunningham. “Sorry about that,” I said. “Michael’s the brother of the young lady I was walking with.”
“Yeah, I’ve got Reynolds’ notes,” the Inspector said. “You sending him to talk to – “
“Yeah, I am.” I frowned as a cab pulled up and Armbruster and a guy with a camera got out. “Shit.”
“Well, you couldn’t keep it a secret,” Cunningham chuckled, and he went to face my competition from the Daily News. The camera guy, and the one that the World-Telly had sent, were comparing notes before the newcomer started taking pictures of the damage.
Armbruster finished talking to Cunningham and sauntered over to me. “Hiya, Knocko. Heard you got to play knight in shining armor.” He looked around. “Where’s the damsel in distress?”
“Hi, Dick,” I said. I was starting to feel tired. “She went back home.”
“Shame, I wouldn’t have minded talking to her. Of course,” and he glanced at a few people who’d stayed Shifted, “I’m no good at howling.”
I eyed him. “Depends,” I said cryptically.
He wasn’t stupid enough to ask, “On what?” so I could punch him in the nose. Instead, he gave me a smile. “Coming on the heels of the Terhune murder, are your furry friends starting to choose up sides?”
I shrugged. “Might be a stickball game or two.” Werewolves weren’t allowed to play professional sports, although Negroes had been since Robinson started playing for the Dodgers. It was a sore spot for some of the wolves I knew. “Why?”
“Just asking.” Yeah, I’ll bet. Armbruster had the look in his eyes that told me he was already writing his article in his head. When his photographer was done, the two of them headed out to find a cab.
“So,” Cunningham asked from just behind me, “what do you think? I’m starting to get pressure from above to get this taken care of before Hoover and the Feds decide to horn in.”
I sighed. “If I knew, I’d be telling you.” I cocked my head. “Did you read my last article?” He shook his head, and I said, “I had a talk with one of Terhune’s lawyers,” and that got his attention, “and it appears that Terhune was trying to create a United Nations-type thing for all werewolves worldwide.”
Cunningham tipped his hat back and whistled. “Wow, that’s one hell of a dream.”
I shrugged. “If you’re gonna dream, dream big. And I had someone give me an idea about where the barber might be hiding.”
“Yeah?” I told him, and he nodded. “Hm, yeah, might be worth a look, or have a talk with the new guys.” That meant the pretty new Transit Police, who the NYPD had set up three years ago. “If you hear anything, let me know, okay Knocko?”
“Will do,” I said. “Now I gotta get over to Barclay Street and beat up my typewriter.”
“Have fun.”
<PREVIOUS>
<NEXT>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Human
Size 96 x 120px
File Size 74 kB
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