in Alabama. And you can come on-site whenever you want.”
“I shall have to,” she said dryly, “if only to make sure the father of my pup doesn’t expire of dehydration, malnutrition, or shark attack.”
“You can be my costar,” he said eagerly. “You’re the real survival expert. I’ve been telling everybody that.”
“Yes, I saw.” She smiled at him. “That’s why I came back. When you admitted your—ah—failings. To your audience. And your crew. I do not require credit. You may be the survival expert in the family, and the television star. But if you ever leave me again, I will hunt you down and break your silly biped legs.”
“Agreed,” he promised fervently. “Great. No problem. Man, wait’ll I tell my mom! Will the baby be a mermaid, too?”
“I do not know,” she replied. “I only know she— yes, it’s a girl—will be part me, and part you. And I never knew I wanted that, until I had it.”
He snatched her to him and kissed her again, then let go like she was radioactive. “Oh, shit! Did I hurt the baby when I did that?”
“I hate to tell you this, but the baby will likely be stronger than you the moment she reaches her weaning year.” Then, “You have a mother?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll love you. And so will all my brothers and sisters.”
“All your—how many—”
“Seven.”
She sat down as if all the strength had gone out of her legs. “But I don’t know how to be in a family!” she wailed. “My folk died when I was still in my nursing year!”
“Well, babe, it’s time you learned. You didn’t think I was gonna let you wander the ocean alone forever, didja?”
“Well. For a little while, yes.” She smiled again. “But then I saw your show. I almost didn’t recognize you without the beard.”
“And I didn’t even notice you with your hair up and clothes on. Which reminds me”—he pointed—“off!”
She obliged, seeming happy to be rid of the clothing, and unpinned her hair, and he pounced on her. Then he hesitated. “This won’t hurt the baby, will it?”
“Stupid Con,” she said, and kissed him so hard, his mouth was bruised for three days.
Speed Dating, Werewolf Style
Or, Ow, I Think You Broke the Bone
There is no silver bullet and frankly you probably don’t need one. It is far more important to be able to find the right kind of gun, be able to load the gun . . . and perhaps most importantly, be able to figure out where the werewolf is.
—MATTHEW OLIPHANT, USEABILITY WORKS
The werewolf is neither man nor wolf, but a satanic creature with the worst qualities of both.
—JOHN COLTON, STUART WALKER
The werewolf instinctively seeks to kill the thing it loves best.
—JOHN COLTON, STUART WALKER
I have led her home, my love, my only friend.
There is none like her, none.
And never yet so warmly ran my blood
And sweetly, on and on
Calming itself to the long-wished-for end
Full to the banks, close on the promised good.
—ALFRED TENNYSON, TENNYSON, A SELECTED EDITION
There’s no such thing as a werewolf.
—ERIC SINCLAIR, VAMPIRE KING
For all the Wyndham werewolf fans out
there, this one’s for you. And yes, I’ll
probably do another single title one of
these days. You know, when I kick my
booze and prescription pill habit.
Author’s Note
The events of this novella take place four days after the events in Undead and Uneasy.
Chapter 1
M ost people wouldn’t know a werewolf if said werewolf (literally) bit them in the face.
Werewolves look like you or me; perhaps a bit more muscular, yes, and their reflexes are much quicker, but it is the nature of man to not notice such things, and so . . . most people wouldn’t know a werewolf if they saw one.
Not so with Cain.
Cain just looked wrong . Your brain registered it, even if the eye did not. She was short, almost petite—barely five feet tall. She wore her coffee-colored hair brutally short, in a
“I shall have to,” she said dryly, “if only to make sure the father of my pup doesn’t expire of dehydration, malnutrition, or shark attack.”
“You can be my costar,” he said eagerly. “You’re the real survival expert. I’ve been telling everybody that.”
“Yes, I saw.” She smiled at him. “That’s why I came back. When you admitted your—ah—failings. To your audience. And your crew. I do not require credit. You may be the survival expert in the family, and the television star. But if you ever leave me again, I will hunt you down and break your silly biped legs.”
“Agreed,” he promised fervently. “Great. No problem. Man, wait’ll I tell my mom! Will the baby be a mermaid, too?”
“I do not know,” she replied. “I only know she— yes, it’s a girl—will be part me, and part you. And I never knew I wanted that, until I had it.”
He snatched her to him and kissed her again, then let go like she was radioactive. “Oh, shit! Did I hurt the baby when I did that?”
“I hate to tell you this, but the baby will likely be stronger than you the moment she reaches her weaning year.” Then, “You have a mother?”
“Yup.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll love you. And so will all my brothers and sisters.”
“All your—how many—”
“Seven.”
She sat down as if all the strength had gone out of her legs. “But I don’t know how to be in a family!” she wailed. “My folk died when I was still in my nursing year!”
“Well, babe, it’s time you learned. You didn’t think I was gonna let you wander the ocean alone forever, didja?”
“Well. For a little while, yes.” She smiled again. “But then I saw your show. I almost didn’t recognize you without the beard.”
“And I didn’t even notice you with your hair up and clothes on. Which reminds me”—he pointed—“off!”
She obliged, seeming happy to be rid of the clothing, and unpinned her hair, and he pounced on her. Then he hesitated. “This won’t hurt the baby, will it?”
“Stupid Con,” she said, and kissed him so hard, his mouth was bruised for three days.
Speed Dating, Werewolf Style
Or, Ow, I Think You Broke the Bone
There is no silver bullet and frankly you probably don’t need one. It is far more important to be able to find the right kind of gun, be able to load the gun . . . and perhaps most importantly, be able to figure out where the werewolf is.
—MATTHEW OLIPHANT, USEABILITY WORKS
The werewolf is neither man nor wolf, but a satanic creature with the worst qualities of both.
—JOHN COLTON, STUART WALKER
The werewolf instinctively seeks to kill the thing it loves best.
—JOHN COLTON, STUART WALKER
I have led her home, my love, my only friend.
There is none like her, none.
And never yet so warmly ran my blood
And sweetly, on and on
Calming itself to the long-wished-for end
Full to the banks, close on the promised good.
—ALFRED TENNYSON, TENNYSON, A SELECTED EDITION
There’s no such thing as a werewolf.
—ERIC SINCLAIR, VAMPIRE KING
For all the Wyndham werewolf fans out
there, this one’s for you. And yes, I’ll
probably do another single title one of
these days. You know, when I kick my
booze and prescription pill habit.
Author’s Note
The events of this novella take place four days after the events in Undead and Uneasy.
Chapter 1
M ost people wouldn’t know a werewolf if said werewolf (literally) bit them in the face.
Werewolves look like you or me; perhaps a bit more muscular, yes, and their reflexes are much quicker, but it is the nature of man to not notice such things, and so . . . most people wouldn’t know a werewolf if they saw one.
Not so with Cain.
Cain just looked wrong . Your brain registered it, even if the eye did not. She was short, almost petite—barely five feet tall. She wore her coffee-colored hair brutally short, in a
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