Exceptional Her heritage marked her as Inhuman Lacey's Lost Weekend by Cass Carlton Alone Writing Contest contest entry

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. Lacey Prentiss an orphaned teenager perched on a rickety chair in the cellar of the house she lived in all alone and carefully put her thoughts in order. She had made a fateful mistake which had to be put right, and she was the only one who could do it. Lacey had messed up her second kill and was under orders to "fix it properly or pay the price." The night Lacey had infected Guthrie with the Lycanthrope virus he had been full of drugs. Perhaps the cocktail of pills had given him a temporary immunity. Whatever was responsible, the sight of Guthrie struggling to his feet and lurching off along the lane where Lacey had found him had terrified her. That wasn't supposed to happen. The taste of his blood was still thick in her mouth, but there was another taste blending with it that set her teeth on edge. An artificial, plastic taste that made her stomach churn and her head spin with nausea. She fled the scene, forsaking her plans to meet with the others , and returned home to the small house she rented and locked herself in. The others had come after her, knocking and pleading to be let in so they could explain what had happened. But Lacey was suspicious and wary of them and had snarled a refusal. Eventually they left and she was alone. The cellar beneath the house was as familiar to her as her bedroom on the first floor. There the floor was carpeted, here it was cement six inches thick. Lacey Prentiss was a Lycanthrope. A shape shifting werewolf. She hated the "other" she became and made every attempt to remain behind locked doors on nights of the full moon. Once she had "changed" her strength was tenfold and there was nothing that would stand in her way to quench the awful thirst that overcame her. The second time had been the worst. She had botched her kill and ended up infecting him with the Lycanthrope virus. Now he was a mewling hanger on lacking any understanding of what had happened to him, but slave to the impulses that wracked his teenaged frame. It had been a ghastly mistake on Lacey's part. One she knew she had to fix. There was only one way. Guthrie had to die. She realized she had to go out tonight after all. Guthrie would change the minute the moon's rays touched him and there was no-one apart from herself to prevent the bloodsoaked mayhem he'd cause let loose on his own. Moonrise wasn't far away. Lacey knew the moon was just below the horizon from her spider-like senses and she shrank from the moment the full moon dawned. Its light lit everything and everyone. No matter how reluctant one might be, Lycanthrope bodies would grow out of human ones and Lycanthrope hunger unleashed on an unsuspecting populace would wreak havoc before vanishing with the light of day. With a shock she felt down to her toenails Lavey realized the moon had touched the horizon and begun its steady climb into the night's sky. Knowing what happened next she peeled her clothes off as the fur began to form on her shoulders and down her spine. When she was changed she stood looking at the creature in the mirror. Nearly seven feet tall, with a covering of dark fur. It was from her eyes, a gleaming golden green that the wolf stared back at her. She studied the face. A long muzzle, gleaming white fangs and a black, shiny wet nose that quested the air for the unmistakable scent of Human Flesh. Lacey could feel the stirrings of hunger rising within her, but with a gift few others of her kind possessed. she held it back, For a short while she was still capable of lucid, rational thought and she knew this was her one and only chance to stop Guthrie before he went on his murderous way. Lacey picked up the athame or sacred dagger from the small altar where it lived and kissed its silver blade. One well directed blow from this and Guthrie would cease to be a problem. Poor Guthrie, he never knew what hit him. He had just changed into a werewolf when he became aware of another of his kind nearby. He never saw the flash of silver as the dagger descended, but he felt the burn of its holy metal as it bit into his neck. Once his body had returned to human shape Lacey left. The next morning the postman found Lacey, There was a note, not that it explained a lot to the puzzled people who had known her. It read "bind me with silver chains and bury me face down ten feet under". There was no explanation for the awful knife wounds on Lacey's body, although some people ( in the know) muttered things like "self administered" and "temporary insanity", A man of God heard of this and went to the local priest. He paid for silver chains to be placed around Lacey's body and saw to it she was laid to rest in consecrated ground . The colony of Lycanthropes decided to move and melted away like shadows at noon. The End l

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