Skeleton Crew

A Novel by Gre7g Luterman

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Saturday, April 29th
Werewolf, Bleak November
Ley Lines by Gre7g Luterman
[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Ninth] [Tenth] [Eleventh] [Twelfth] [Thirteenth] [Fourteenth] [Fifteenth] [Sixteenth] [Seventeenth] [Eighteenth] [Nineteenth] [Twentieth] [Twenty-first] [Twenty-second]

I woke up still laying atop Shadow’s soft and bony body. She had tucked a pillow between my head and her shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around me and mine were tucked underneath her shoulders.

“Omigod,” I gasped and lifted my weight off of her slender form. She smiled and pulled me back down on top of her. “I must be crushing you,” I said.

Shadow laughed and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “I think I’m a little tougher than you give me credit,” she whispered. “Besides, if I didn’t want you on top of me, you wouldn’t be.”

“This is terribly wrong…” I said and tried to get up again. “You’re only seventeen…”

“What?” she asked. She put her hands on my buttocks and pulled my crotch down against her own. She wrapped her legs around mine. “Do you think that I’m some naïve little schoolgirl? That you seduced me?” She smiled and bit her lower lip. “I’m more grown-up than I ever wanted to be. The odds are against me ever living to your age. I’ve killed people… I’ve… I’ve eaten people.

“This body…” she took her hands and ran them across her breasts, “this is who I used to be. You look at this and think that you made love with a girl who has not yet become a woman, but that’s not it at all. The monster that nearly broke your neck last night when you pleaded to see the caern… that’s who I am.”

I didn’t want to think about her killing anyone. I looked at her. I stared at her face and her dark eyes. I shook my head ‘no’. “I don’t think you know yourself as well as you think.” I lowered my body down on top of hers and she squeezed me tight.

When I finally climbed out of bed, I wrapped myself in a bathrobe and stumbled to the washer. I tossed everything in the dryer and then stumbled back to the kitchen to dredge up some breakfast.

Shadow was already there, going through my cabinets. She was dressed in one of my sweatshirts, and it exposed her backside when she reached for the top shelf.

I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tight. “There’s a wolf in my kitchen,” I said with a smile.

She squeaked softly and put her hands behind my back.

“Let’s see what I can offer you…” I said and opened my empty refrigerator. It had not been that barren since I first moved in. “What?”

The leftovers were gone and the Tupperware was in the sink. The milk and juice were gone; the sandwich meat, the cheese, and fruit had disappeared. Even though there were no pots or pans out, my eggs were still missing. I opened the crisper and was shocked to see that even the rubbery celery that I had been meaning to throw out was gone.

I looked up at Shadow and stared. She bit her lower lip again. “I raided your ’fridge,” she reminded me.

I lifted the front of her sweatshirt and stared at her naked stomach. It was still as flat and skinny as it had been the night before. “Wow,” was all I could say. I could see that keeping her fed while I figured out how to control my magick was going to be more than a simple trick.

I opened the freezer and was glad to see that there was still a little in it. She had eaten my ice cream and left the rest. I grabbed a package of bacon and her eyes lit up. I pulled out my largest frying pan and set it down on the stovetop. “All of it?” I asked her.

‘Please?’ she mouthed.

Shadow fried up all the bacon and gobbled it down before it even had a chance to cool. I sat quietly at the table and munched on a bowl of painfully-dry cereal. When she finished - and I swear that it did not take long - she sat down in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her face and the sweatshirt were covered with bacon grease. “Thanks,” she said and began munching on what was left of my cereal. I tried not to think about what would happen if I ever let the ’fridge get empty again. “Are you ready to go?”

I shook my head and stripped off her sweatshirt. “You need another shower.” She wrapped her arms around my neck again and I carried her easily to the bathroom.

Shadow and I bathed slowly. We carefully washed every surface on each other’s bodies. It was wonderfully sensual and I found myself wanting her again.

I lathered up my face and she snatched the razor from my hands. She shaved off my stubble with a careful, sensitive touch. I was a little apprehensive at first, but after sleeping with a werewolf, letting one shave my face didn’t seem that big a risk. Once I relaxed, it was a wonderfully extravagance.

When she finished, she lathered up her armpits and put her hands behind her head, waiting for me to return the favor. “It’s been a long time since I’ve shaved,” she explained. “A girl doesn’t get many chances to on the street.”

I shook my head. “No, I’ll cut you,” I said and tried to hand her the razor back.

“With a steel blade?” she laughed. “It would heal before you even knew you had done it.”

I steadied my hand and did as she wished. It surprised me just how fun it was. It was a strange sort of thrill. I tried to hand her back the razor when I finished, but she ignored it and began to lather up her legs. I sighed deeply, lowered myself to my knees, beginning to shave her legs. “Cheer up,” she told me. “As werewolves go, I’m not particularly hairy.”

We both laughed.

When I was finally done, she gave me a big hug and a kiss. “You make me feel like a woman, Alex.”

“You are a woman, Shadow. An extraordinary one.”

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O gods... Why did it take me this long to spot the reference?

Which? I may have missed it too.

Ravq Oylgba, Funqbj gur Furrcqbt?

ROT-13, just in case...

Sorry, never seen that book before.

We've got the book... somewhere. I haven't read it, beyond the first few pages, but Enid Blyton is as well-known here in the UK as, oh, Mark Twain would be in the USA, though Mrs. Blyton wrote exclusively for children. "Shadow the Sheepdog" is probably the most typical boy-and-his-dog story this side of the Pond. Compare to Old Yeller. Enid Blyton's Shadow, though, is a collie, not a lycanthrope.

I should probably read a bit more Enid Blyton, if only to marvel at the casual racism that was common at the time these stories were written. The books are probably still in print.

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