As their laughter died down, Caleb heard a rustle to his left. He zeroed his gaze in, staring at the shadows bordering the yard, the dense foliage providing so many possible hiding spots.
If his years in the military had taught Caleb anything, it was to never underestimate the enemy. Where there was a will, there was a way, and he still had trouble even months after leaving the war overseas in looking at the world with a less than jaundiced eye.
What of the heavy boughs weighed down by lush leaves? Ambush could await the unwary in the treetops. Anyone or thing could lie under the mud and weeds, ready to rise. The enemy could be inside his own mind, waiting to burst free from its bodily prison and rampage.
Let me out. I can scout.
Indeed, his reptile half could, but would the cold creature stop at just that? And what really could his croc self do that the man couldn’t?
I know danger is lurking. It can be anywhere.
Knowing this, Caleb would stand on guard, as a man, to stop it.
Since nothing seemed to be disturbing the nightlife—the bayou sounds rolled over his skin—Caleb questioned his brother further about this supposed wolfman haunting the bayou years ago. “I take it they never caught the guy, or wolf, or whatever that was abducting folks?”
Constantine shook his head. “Nope. One day, a kid riding his bike got snatched, the next he was found sitting in the park, no idea how he got there. And that was the last time it happened. Until now.”
“So today marks the first incidents?”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?” Caleb narrowed his gaze at his brother.
“We got a call into the station”—the fire station where Constantine worked as a firefighter—“that something might have taken up residence in the pond by the park. A bunch of kids claimed they saw something, and since we didn’t want any of them getting eaten in case a croc or gator did make its way there, we took a truck out and met up with some of the boys in blue. We dragged the pond and came up empty.”
“But?” Caleb prodded, fixing his brother with a stare.
“There was this smell. A weird one.”
“Kind of reptile like, but not quite, with a hint of something wrong,” Caleb said.
“I would have said more like alien, but yeah. And as for tracks, nothing that made sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean did you ever see something that walked with one human foot and one clawed and webbed one?”
No, Caleb hadn’t, which was why he slept on the couch that night with a gun under his pillow, one eye open, and an ear cocked to see if the pop-can trap he’d strung outside all the windows rattled.
But the best intentions didn’t keep the nightmares at bay.
The flames slithered closer, dancing bright devils eager to taste anything they could lick. Caleb tugged at his tethers. However, the rope bound him tight.
A prisoner waiting for punishment because he’d dared disobey.
Begging wasn’t an option.
Not only would he never stoop so low, there was no one left to hear his pleas.
And still the torrid fire burned closer.
Let me out.
His beast pulsed, demanding exit.
Again, he pulled at the thick twine crisscrossing his wrists. He’d managed to somewhat fray them against the rough stone surface of the wall, but not enough to snap himself free.
There is no choice. Let me out.
The heat pulsed against his skin, crisping his hairs, tightening pores already dry. He didn’t want to let the beast out. He could hear the screams of battle. Scent the blood…
Yummy.
The thought repulsed him. The thought made him hunger.
It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t revel in the wild nature of his croc. Shouldn’t crave the same things.
I am a man.
You are also a predator.
He was also on fire. The flames licked at his skin, attracted to the scraps of clothes he still wore, singeing the rope holding him prisoner. But he didn’t have time to wait for the flames to free him, not when his skin bubbled.
He screamed, not with pain, but out of frustration. How ironic that the reason he found himself tied was what would save him. He wouldn’t unleash his beast for the enemy, but he would have to in order to survive.
His croc snapped in glee.
The change came on fast and vicious, his skin hardening into scales, the shape of his face, his hands, his whole body contorting, reshaping, becoming…a crocodile.
Not a friendly one. Nor a small one.
Last time they measured him, he was over twelve feet from snout to tail. How he managed to expand to that size, he never could figure out. He did know that he and others of his kind took heavier than he looked to a whole new level.
Unleashing his beast didn’t stop the flames from kissing his skin. Flesh sizzled.
Smells good.
He would have gagged if he wasn’t just a passenger on the reptile train bent on escape—and destruction.
In a frenzy from being cooped away, in pain, and pissed when someone dared shoot at him, Caleb could do nothing to stop his vicious side from lunging at the guy with the gun.
The crunch of bone, the coppery taste of blood, the exultation, his personal horror that he enjoyed it.
No.