Moonlight Hymn

A sudden gust of wind swept through the city streets, dragging fall leaves in a frenzied dance. Veronica shivered, pulling her jacket close against her body and hiding her face in the faux sable fur lining the hood.

Traffic was nonexistent along the narrow street she walked and she couldn't decide whether that was due to it being early afternoon on a Monday or the neighborhood being trashy. Still, her husband's birthday was in two days and her mapping software

swore

there was a record store around here that she hadn't visited before.

And there it was: Rugged Records. The storefront was plastered with old concert posters and slightly newer local shows but most were faded from the sun and there was a bullet hole in the corner of the shop's window.

"Well, that's charming," she murmured. Still, she scanned the flyers in case there were mention of any good local bands playing.

A bell over the door rang when Veronica pushed the door open. Behind the counter, a heavy-set clerk with large gauges in his ears and expensive headphones around his neck welcomed her. The store was clean despite the exterior and she paused a moment to take all of it in. The band Tool played through overhead speakers and a few customers rooted around in boxes and bins. She oriented herself and headed over to a set of boxes near the corner of the store.

After several minutes of digging through records, the woman's cell phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. She grabbed it and smiled when she saw her husband's picture. It was a picture taken years ago of him sleeping on their reclining chair while holding their infant son. He'd just come off of a twelve hour shift and he'd wanted to take a turn so she could get a small break. He'd fallen asleep before the baby had and they'd continued to sleep until she'd carefully extracted the baby to lay him in his crib.

"Hey, love," she said while her fingers flicked through used records. "How's work?"

"It's good," Chris's gravely voice answered. "I've got a couple brake jobs to work on so I won't be home until late."

"You can't just leave them for when you're back?" she asked, pausing at a red and black album. She traced the image of the red figure on the right side.

"I'm gonna be gone for the rest of the week, babe," he replied. Compressed air hissed in the distance, followed by a loud, repetitive whirring sound. "You'd want it done sooner if it were your car. Just start dinner without me and I'll be home when I can. I'll cook next time."

"Alright," she sighed, sliding the record from its sleeve. She held her palm against the edge to look for obvious imperfections before pushing it back in to make sure the sleeve itself wasn't marked. "I'll just do spaghetti and we have some broccoli left. Can't wait til tomorrow when I have you all to myself."

"Me, too, babe," her husband chuckled. "Listen, I gotta get back to it. Give the kids a kiss if you can get them away from their games and tell them I love 'em both. And you."

"Love you, too," she told him. "Be safe and I'll see you when you're home."

After hanging up, Veronica brought the album to the front counter

"Nice," the clerk said, turning the record over to key in the price. "Going old school with The Nefilim."

"Yeah," she told him. "The husband and I were pretty into the scene back then. We can still get into it but not so much these days. Still good to collect and I'd forgotten about it until now."

"Fifteen even," he told her. He had a single ring in his lip and he nodded his head to a beat only he could hear while bagging the record.

"Any good shows around here?" Veronica asked.

"Not this week," he told her, gesturing at a stack of paper on the counter. "Got a schedule for the month there. Check it out next week. We always get some good shit around Halloween."

"Thanks!" she told him, grabbing a calendar and sliding it into the bag with the record.

Tucking the record under her arm, she braced herself as she opened the door and stepped outside. She turned to walk to her car but the store across the street caught her eye. It had no name posted and was painted entirely black. Two large, rectangular windows sat beside an old wooden door and, inside, she saw a bunch of, as she would call them in her younger days,

spooky shit

. Black candles, carved bone and tons of glass jars.

Veronica made a beeline for the store, crossing the empty street until she grasped the cold, black metal handle and opened the door. A rush of exotic scents flooded her but her mind settled on

musty with a hint of spice and dead things

for the interior. The sights and smells of the small store immediately brought back memories of years exploring the occult when she was younger.

An older woman reclined in an old office chair with a pair of reading glasses low on her nose and an ancient, yellowed romance novel in her hands. She said nothing when her customer entered but simply turned the page of her book.

Stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, Veronica walked slowly around the store. She rolled her eyes at a few of the more "consumer friendly" faery sculptures but then walked slowly through the rows of glass bottles. Some were stoppered with simple corkers while a few had red wax sealing their contents. The further she went towards the back, the darker the bottles became, their clear glass tinted brown or green with unrecognizable objects floating half-obscured.

At the far back of the room, a wooden honeycomb structure lay behind a wall of glass in a dimly lit room. A single bulb at the front of the room cast a ray of amber light that left only the bottom corner of the strange shelving visible. Her breath fogged the window as she leaned into it and she swore she saw scrolls inside the recessed spaces. She glanced towards the counter and decided to ask if she'd be allowed into the room.

The way back to the front of the store was a reversal in time from ancient past to dried chicken feet marked with last week's date. Only three other customers walked the store and she excused herself around them. Most of the wall near the front was stacked with jars of powdered substances. She glanced at them idly until she stood near the register once more.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask about the scrolls, she glanced at the tablet behind the woman. An old book lay on the table, nestled between boxes and jars. Veronica felt herself drawn to it despite the plainness of it. A black star was burned into the brown cover and an old bookmark lay between the pages, the frayed end touching the table beneath the book. Sounds and color seemed to fade slightly around her as she stared at the book.

"Is the book for sale?" she asked, knowing that, if it were, she couldn't afford it.

The clerk looked up, annoyed at the interruption before turning to follow Veronica's eyes.

"No," the clerk told her. "It belongs to the owner of the store and he'll be here shortly to pick it up."

"Well, could I look through it?" she asked.

"No, absolutely not," the old woman answered. "Is there anything- yes?"

A slight young man stepped next to Veronica. He wore a plain black hoodie with black jeans and he held a large, handwritten shopping list in his hands.

"I need help finding a bunch of things," the man said, pushing his list forward in front of himself.

"Fine," the clerk sighed. She bent the corner of the page she was reading and lay the book down near her register. With yet another sigh, she levered herself out of her chair and waddled around to snatch the list out of the man's hand. "Follow me. Do you already have a mortar and pestle? Some of these you'll need to do yourself."

The mismatched pair walked into a side room, leaving Veronica alone at the front of the store. She looked at the book and then back to where the old woman had gone.

Fuck it,

she told herself with a smile, laying down her purchased album on the counter.

She stepped behind the counter and lay her hand against the book. It was warm to the touch and the cover was extraordinarily soft. When she took her hand away, an impression remained until it slowly decompressed. With another glance towards the back of the shop, she opened the book where it was marked and found an entry titled simply, "Therianthropy".

The first few paragraphs detailed the affliction with a list of typical animal and human hybrids. Knowing her husband's interest in werewolves, she turned the page to find the entry on lycanthropy. It described how the accursed victim would transform during the three nights of the full moon with a brief historical note tracing the origin of the transformation. Methods to inflict the curse upon someone or to change yourself followed the history lesson. The first method listed simply being bit by another werewolf - the transmission of fluids being the most potent.

Drinking from paw print, cutting with a bone or other part of unconsecrated werewolf remains, wearing the skin of a wolf,

she read to herself, skimming down the sections. She reached to turn the page and then glanced to the side as her hand knocked against a small box. Vials lined the interior of the box and the contents of one in particular caught her eye: a single sharp tooth, as white as fresh cream. The other vials held what appeared to be dirty water in one, a small patch of fur in another and a fourth contained a mixture of ground plants.

"No way," Veronica whispered, unstopping the tooth's vial. She tapped the tooth out into her hand, turning it over and over before closing her hand around it. For a brief moment, she considered walking out with it. Chris loved wolves and she liked the idea of telling him it was an honest-to-god, not at all fake werewolf tooth she'd stolen from the store. But, that was something she'd have done in her rebellious youth. The thrill of the idea made her excited but adulthood nagged at her to put it back.

Just as she went to return the tooth, the sound of breaking glass filled the room and a shrill cry followed shortly after. Startled, Veronica clenched her fist and hissed at the pain in the palm of her hand. She opened her hand to see the jet black tooth pressed against her skin, just around a large welt. The young woman carefully placed the tooth back into the jar, tilting it to prevent it from making noise. Within the vial, the blackened canine seemed to drink in the light but Veronica ignored it and, instead, messaged the mark on her palm. The pain faded quickly and when she flexed her hand a few times, she was surprised to find unbroken pink skin left behind.

"-thing else?" the distant clerk's voice asked.

Veronica corked the tooth's vial and closed the book carefully, ensuring it lay exactly where it had before she touched it. She left the back of the counter, grabbed her record and walked through the front door.

Cold wind ruffled the fake fur lining the woman's jacket. It slipped into the open gap of her collar and down between her shoulder blades to caress her tattoo. Tiny moon phases encircled a five pointed star with the full moon and new moons in line with her spine. An inch below the outlined new moon phase was a tattooed triquetra. The sharp wind dissipated beneath her jacket and she shivered, pulling it close against her until she could feel the fur against her neck and chin.

Beneath her jacket, the finely marked black edges of the gibbous moon turned silver.

--

Water from a large pot hissed on the stove as drops were thrown onto the stove's elements. Veronica salted the water before dumping in a bag of angel hair pasta. In a corner opposite to the pot, a skillet sizzled with large chunks of browned hamburger meat. She hummed to herself as she pushed and flipped chunks around the skillet and the smell of it cooking made her stomach rumble. Snatching a small piece of meat, she cursed as the juices burned the tips of her finger before she could eat it.

Saliva filled her mouth as she chewed. With a quick glance, she stole another piece to chew on. She rolled it around her mouth, savoring the raw taste of the uncooked side before swallowing. While the pasta cooked, she picked through the meat until she found one nearly completely pink.

Tiny flecks of gold appeared in her brown eyes, as if a field of fireflies were startled from their rest. Her lips quivered as she shoved the raw meat into her mouth. The raw meat, heated slightly from the stove pulled at a newly formed urge within her and she found herself enjoying the taste of it. The taste of a still-warm kill. She shoved her fingers into her mouth, licking them with exaggerated strokes of her tongue until they were free of the juices.

Beneath her dark t-shirt, a single brown hair pierced the skin of her lower back. It pressed against her shirt, snaking against her bare skin while a second hair joined it. A third followed, growing just below her tattoo while a fourth followed below the first. From the base of her spine to her shoulders, scattered hairs emerged, cross-crossing her spine until they faded to a pale blonde wisp at the nape of her neck.

While the food finished cooking, Veronica unlocked her phone and called her mother. She reached around to scratch her back until her call was answered.

"Mom, hey," she said, pushing around the ground beef with a spatula. Setting the spatula down, she grabbed a pair of pot holders. With the phone pinched to her ear and neck, she dumped the pasta into a strainer and then back into the pot. "Could you come over to watch the kids for a little bit? I want to run some food over to Chris."

At the mention of his name, her mind wandered while she chatted with her mom. They'd saved money and vacation time to get away for several days for her husband's birthday. There was a small cabin deep within the woods that was calling to them and she'd already packed some food, alcohol, books and games. There were even an adult coloring book or two tucked in with a pack of sketchbooks. Although they lived on the outskirts of town, they both loved the outdoors and time away without distractions sounded like heaven.

Time for just the two of them. With the kids and work, their sex life had been uneven and she was excited to rekindle the low flames. Her mother kept talking while she got into her car and began driving but Veronica missed a few words as she suddenly pictured her husband nude before her.

She shifted her thick legs, pressing her thighs together while imagining his arms around her. Her mind switched to parenting mode and she began answering her mother with simple 'uh-huhs' and 'ums' as her heartbeat echoed between her legs. A bead of sweat formed and rolled down her back. She licked her lips as the throbbing of her sex turned to an empty ache. Her gold flecked eyes widened when, in her thoughts, her husband nipped her neck and threw her to the ground on her hands and knees.

"-listening?" her mom asked.

"What?" Veronica said, taking a shuddering breath as she refocused. She gnashed her teeth, grinding them against the way her shirt felt against her overly sensitive sides. Thick hairs twined with her sparse pubic hair, twisting against them as they spread into a thin peak beneath her belly button.

"I said I'm here," her mother repeated. "Come get the door, it's cold outside."

Veronica ended the call while walking into the living room. Her two kids glanced up from their tablets and then down again. She rolled her eyes at them before opening the door. Her mother stood beneath the porch light in a thick jacket and boots with her arms clenched against her sides in an over-dramatic fashion. She reached out to hug her daughter and Veronica pulled her close. The younger woman inhaled twice, quickly as she drew in her mother's scent. She stepped away and pulled the older woman in.

"Come in and get settled," she told her mother. "I'm going to put together Chris' food together. Just feed the kids when you're ready and I should be back before their bedtime."

"Alright, kids," their grandmother said. "Put your tablets away for the night."

Groans followed Veronica to the kitchen. She grabbed a plastic container and lid before filling it with pasta, sauce and a large helping of meat. Drool formed at the corner of her mouth as she scooped up the chunks. She grabbed a handful for herself, growling as she shoved the pieces in her mouth. As she had before, she licked her palm and fingers again and again until they were clean.

What was I- Oh right, the food!

she thought to herself, breaking out of her reverie. She snapped the lid on the container, slipped her phone in the pockets of her jeans and carried it out into the living room. Her kids sat beside their grandmother while she read to them from a picture book.

"I'll be back soon," she told the other three as she pressed her feet into her boots. "Listen to your grandmother while I'm gone and be good."

Once outside, Veronica sighed and raised her face to the sky. She welcomed the cold night air as it soothed her overheated body. Her jacket felt suffocating and the fur lining tickled the hairs on her neck in an unpleasant way. She shrugged out of it and slung it over her arm while she slipped into her car.

Clouds sped past high overhead as the young woman backed out of her driveway. She gunned the engine, barely pausing at the stop sign before turning left. Her body felt on edge and she found herself distracted by everything on the road. Every shadow and random movement drew her attention as she sped down roads.

When the road evened out into a long stretch, she looked up, captivated by the nearly full moon. Her mouth went slack as the moon dominated her eyesight, growing larger and larger, brighter and brighter, pulling the simmering heat from between her thighs into a molten torrent that tore along her spine. She gasped, growling and whimpering as she gripped her steering wheel.

A passing car honked loudly. Veronica snarled in return but the spell was broken. She lay back in her seat, panting as sweat raced down her body. More hairs joined the ones covering her mound. They pushed down over her well-trimmed labia to trap the smell of her wet pussy. Her altered, heady scent filled the small car.

The strange energy fueling her pushed her to drive aggressively and she took every corner as quickly as possible until she came to a stop in a cloud of dust and gravel in front of her husband's shop. Grabbing the container of food, she stepped into the night.

Veronica wrinkled her nose with her tongue between her teeth as the harsh chemical scents from within the garage assaulted her. Both of the rolling doors were closed so she stomped over to the metal door the employees used.

"Chris!" she called out, banging on the door. Metal wheels squealed within and she heard him grunt. She closed her eyes and inhaled as deeply as she could but the harsh smells of the shop masked his scent.

"Is that you, babe?" Chris' voice asked from the other side of the door. He flipped the deadbolt and then smiled at her when he opened the door. "Hey, you- oof!"

The plastic container of food thudded against the ground as Veronica launched herself at her husband. He staggered and then switched his stance to anchor himself while her hands gripped his back and ass. Her hungry mouth found his and their tongues twisted against each other. Chris' wife moaned as they kissed and she pressed herself against him, arching her back to rub against his crotch while holding him against her body.

Dull, throbbing pain filled her jaw as her canines expanded, lengthening into short, sharp fangs that dragged against Chris' tongue.

"Whoa!" Chris said backing up while wiping his hand against his mouth. He tasted blood and looked down to see a thin streak of it on the back of his hand. "Damn. You- Hey, slow down!"