"Hey Jack, done with your "Jack's Private Happy Time"?" Vicki walked out from her room, a knowing smirk on her face and a pile of papers in her hand. She was definitely a busy bee. Jack took up the papers upon being offered them and saw they were of some woman from the strip who did shows and private seances. Supposedly this woman was named "Lady Krysta" and her services offered to reconnect people with their departed loved ones "as only she can", and "read the immediate future", "tell the trend of your luck", and some other psychic mumbo-jumbo.
Jack's brow furrowed and he looked at Vicki, "I know it's tempting to believe just about anything now that werewolves, zombies and necromancers are a thing. But this woman's pretty obviously a scam psychic. I've run into a bunch of them! They're just masters of this technique called cold reading where they make an educated guess and then proceed from there. Lots of heartless shit going on with these types---"
"Read on, lover boy." Vicki urged, there was a reason she had picked out Lady Krysta for this instead of anyone else.
Jack kept reading, including some eye witness testimony about her shows - noting that they were pretty meager in contrast to the grandiose spectacles put on by the big league psychics. It seemed there were concerns about safety - apparently there'd been some errant activity in some of her shows. Tech and items going haywire, things ending up not where they were left... could she really be legit? Jack contemplated as he looked over some more info.
Lady Krysta seemed to have a knack for getting herself put into dangerous situations. She'd apparently been somehow levitated, thrown across a room, almost skewered through the eye by a fork (she dodged at the last second), and for some odd reason targeted for assassination. Jack had to wonder what was going on with this psychic if she was doing something that made people want to kill her? He contemplated, wondering if there might be a shot at this...
It also seemed she was absolutely despised by the show psychics who populated the strip and the Vegas general circuit. And when that vile Ms. Browne and her nasty long fingernails described someone so harshly and horribly, they had to be doing something right. "Alright, I'll check out this "Lady Krysta" and see if she's any good. If we're lucky," Jack said with a grin, "She might be able to tell me a bit about the Werewolf Curse and even about the Necromancer and how he's doing all of this."
Vicki led the way out to the car, while Jack looked up at the afternoon sun. Hopefully he could get back before the night got too far along.
As the car went off toward Lady Krysta's Emporium, Vicki wondered when her life became so crazy and so absolutely...unusual.
-------------------
Lady Krysta's "Emporium of Wonder" was apparently a run down former theatre. She'd supposedly inherited it from her magician father, a guy who went by the name "Master Taboo", who'd among other things been a kind, loving father figure for her. She even spoke to the press glowingly about how he let her get her start in his shows. And then he died, and left the theatre to Krysta instead of to either of his sons. Which apparently ruffled some feathers. Maybe that was why there were so many attempted assassinations on this poor woman. Why, the logo for her Emporium was itself falling to pieces.
Leaving the car, Jack looked back at Vicki, who said, "If there's any trouble, give me a call and I'll try and get in touch with the police." Hopefully, Jack thought as she said this, it wouldn't be Detective Homophobia. It seemed any time the police were involved, that guy wasn't that far behind whenever it involved Jack in any way.
Entering the Emporium, Jack looked around and saw the sad state of the place. This had obviously once been a place of joy, of celebration, of tricks and the trade of magic.
Now look at it. Gathering dust and the site of violence due to the greed of Master Taboo's children, among others. Jack wouldn't be incapable of believing that other psychics would try and hire thugs or worse to try and get rid of a much more talented, apparently far more genuine competitor. As Jack stood by the entrance to the "inner sanctum" where the shows apparently happened, he was surprised when a young woman strode out from the curtains.
Pristine despite the state of the place around her, standing about five foot nine, she was elegant, graceful and beautiful beyond Jack's imagining. It almost took his breath away, really. She had long flowing blond hair, eyes that were almost piercing green, and skin like the glow of the moon. He almost worried she might trigger his change right then and there from how alluring she was and how she reminded him of the moon. She was dressed in a red dress top, tight black pants that showed off her curves, and black heels. And...she seemed to have been expecting him somehow. Based on her lack of surprise.
"Jack Romulus, correct? I received a dream speaking of your appearance. You are...even more handsome than in my dream." She spoke with an odd, vaguely East European accent, and just the way she spoke ignited some interest in Jack. However he reminded himself he was with Vicki preemptively.
"...Heh, thanks. Male model, after all." Jack said with a smile, and then asked, "Do you know...why I came here then?" He left it open ended, and didn't say anything he didn't need to say. He needed to know going into this if she was cold reading, or had somehow knew to research him. He wasn't exactly famous...
"Yes, that was included in my dream. I saw in my dream the Wolf-Shadow upon you, the Spirit-Wolf as it were." She moved in closer to him and urged him to extend his hand and open it. He did so, and she traced some lines on his hand, closing her eyes, "You come here, searching for someone with The Gift. You don't know if I am genuine or not. And you want to know...about the dark secrets of the Necromancer. The one who riddles the Vegas street with the despoiled dead, using magic that is not his own."
"M-Magic that is not his own...?" Jack started before being surprised as Krysta leaned in and kissed his neck, lifting his shirt and feeling his chest and abs. He gulped and resolved himself - he was...he was with Vicki through and through. Fuuuck, though, there was obviously some sort of heady perfume on this "Lady Krysta". She was intoxicating. Jack could feel his manhood erecting despite his resistance. She was trying him. She was trying him really hard. He lightly bit his lip and kept himself still as this odd trial continued.
Something told Jack it was a trial. A test of his willingness to stay faithful even while a hot, busty psychic chick was feeling him up. She knew where all his sensitive spots were, and of course she did. She was a fucking real psychic, wasn't she? Jack gulped down a moan, wondering if any display of erotic satisfaction might mean he'd lose out on this test.
She whispered to him, "The wolf blood is wild, and though wild wolves mate for life, a werewolf is not a wild wolf. You yearn..." She felt his right ear with her free hand, all the while continuing to slowly and sensually feel up his musculature, "...and yet, you control your mind, your urges and your drives."
"...Really...making it pretty fucking hard for me to do that right now, lady." Jack could feel his cock letting out some pre in his boxers. Really seemed like the second night in the lunar cycle was one that really tested his faithfulness. He wanted despite himself to take her, right then and there even when they were at the entrance area. To lay her down and plow her with his hard dick. To howl when he came his load inside of her---
But Jack remembered Vicki waiting outside, and he breathed, stopped himself even as he felt her lightly tease his manhood. He knew somehow this was some sort of fucked up test. And he didn't know if he was passing it now or failing miserably. She seemed to operate on a different axis than him.
Lady Krysta whispered in his ear, "You have apt, incredible self control, Jack Romulus. I am sorry for the test and its nature, but I needed to know."
"Couldn't you...do that just by looking up the kinds of shots I had to do before?" Jack grimaced and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Fuck. He was still hard now too. But he had more important things to do here than indulge in sexuality. He shrugged his shoulders, "So what did you need to know? Why go this far teasing a guy?"
She backed off and put her hands behind her back, explaining a bit, "A man who has the Wolf-Spirit inlaid in him when it is foreign to him will be more wild-blooded. Less controlled. Over-eager. A lone wolf if not claimed by a pack. His morality may well decay, and he would hunt and dismember mortals for his own amusement. You on the other hand..." She looked at him and smiled lightly, "You show control over yourself in human form. And in time, you might learn to exert control over your Werewolf self."
"Woah woah woah, backtrack!" Jack said, almost falling backward, "There's two different ways people can take being a Werewolf? Are you saying I'm like, different somehow from someone who'd just, I dunno, get bitten and end up a Werewolf?"
"Yes, indeed. The Lycanthropic condition is one that is not foreign to you." As Lady Krysta said that, Jack contemplated what she meant. He had no idea what she was talking about. He had never encountered a werewolf before, he had only read a fucking book that apparently cursed him just for the temerity of thumbing through its pages. That was another thing Jack was hoping to get some answers about. Though right now he had the Necromancer to take care of, before settling issues of origin.
Jack leaned up against one of the walls in the Emporium, and asked, "So, on to what you said earlier. The Necromancer has magic that is not his own. What do you mean by that? Did he steal some other guy's weird zombie mojo?"
"Indeed." Lady Krysta stated, and she moved, putting her hand up and seemingly conjuring a cloud of black smoke. Jack watched the smoke rise and form into the shape of a man getting off of a ship, "The magic belonged originally to a Haitian Vodouist. He left his country to come here, on the advice of the spirits. Unfortunately, he was set upon by the malign influences who lurk in the shadows. His magic stolen and distorted by a malicious, wyrmly shadow, used to conjure the living dead." The smoke shifted, and depicted a man laying on the floor, wicked grinning specters that somehow seemed so familiar to Jack standing over his body.
"Now, I think I have a pretty reasonable idea who the Necromancer really is, but I need to know for sure." Jack said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "Can you tell me who it is?" Plus there was the fact that this could be a bigger scale thing. For all Jack knew, getting rid of Battle might provide cover for the actual Necromancer to get away, if Battle was just something like an Igor or something.
"I..." Krysta looked to the side, and sighed, "I cannot. There remains a shadow over my vision and power. A person, whose shadow obscures my capabilities and threatens to infect my visions with his toxicity." The smoke vanished just when it seemed a concrete image would be shown, and Jack shook his head.
"Alright so, who or what's the "shadow" keeping you from telling who the Necromancer is?" Jack cracked his knuckles, and grinned a little bit, "Because I think I might be able to help you out in dealing with him if you're needing some assistance."
"...Very well, but I fear I may be involving you too far in my life." Krysta took out a few pictures, handing them over to Jack in short order. Each depicting an obese, uncannily grinning man, walking with a man dressed, Jack had to say, as a lawyer going by his side. He just radiated malice. Jack didn't even need to be a psychic to tell there was something deeply, darkly wrong about this guy. Seemed like Krysta shied away from looking too long at the pictures herself.
"This man is Jared Macklert. He is a monster in human flesh..." Krysta stated, and looked away, "Before I was found by Master Taboo, I languished in the "care" of Macklert. He...did things to me. Hurt me in ways no child should be hurt. Even when I am now grown, his shadow on my past is...stifling, overwhelming. He has hurt many, many other children in his supposed care. Please help me, Jack. End his threat to me and others."
Jack didn't even know where to begin with this. He gathered well enough just what this guy was and what he did from the way poor Krysta reacted to just the sight of a picture of him, and her confident demeanor had shaken and dispersed as they discussed him. It really pissed Jack off that this guy evidently got away with his heinous crimes. Enough that even if he didn't have a mission to be on requiring his action, he would've aimed to point the Werewolf in this guy's direction as best he could.
"Alright, you got my assistance dealing with this asshole. Nobody should get away with that kind of shit. I'll kill this fucker dead." Jack stated. He knew ideally the police should handle this guy...but the police right now involved someone who brought the dead back to life as part of some prejudiced scheme in all likelihood. And justice had evidently failed Krysta before - very evidently. So now, it was on him - and the Werewolf. "Can you tell me where this fuckhead is located at night? This is the second night of the lunar cycle - so I'll be able to dispose of him with some prep."
"You would..." Krysta was immediately relieved and swept Jack into a hug, tight and intimate, "Thank you, Jack Romulus. This man benefits from corruption and harms those who should be safe in his care. You can find him at Hezekiah House for Orphans and Foster Kids. They profess to be a Godly institute. They would not know any God."
Jack indeed knew the place - he'd in fact thought they were a little too saccharine before, but he had had no idea what was really going on behind closed doors. Let alone the horrific, soul-scarring shit that Mr. Macklert got up to. "You can count on me." If Jack could, he'd want to make sure that the Werewolf only attacked people like Clyve and Macklert who absolutely deserved it. So as long as he was transforming like this, he'd try and set things up like this.
With that, Jack left, and looked over his shoulder with a slight smile as he heard her say, "Bless your heart and body, Jack Romulus. Thank you. I will try and use my powers to guide the Werewolf's path and save any others outside the House and those victims inside from the Wolf's fury."
-----------------
"So we're off to kill a pedo. I never liked that holier-than-thou grin factory." Vicki commented after Jack returned and filled her in on the incident and where he needed to be that night. Vicki admitted she did some research on that place before, and came up with some alarming revelations about abuse and questionable tactics used in raising kids, but nothing quite so vile as what Jared got up to... and what WAS it with grotesque pedophiles named Jared?
"Yeah, and Krysta said she could help keep my rampage on the straight and narrow tonight." Jack admitted he was actually kind of excited to put the Werewolf's hunger and rage to a good use tonight. He'd taken Louis Clyve off the street already for now, and it was time to deal with someone even worse.
Before long the two of them drove up to the Hezekiah House to get a look at the place and see if there was anywhere Jack could wait it out while his transformation occurred. As they did, Jack looked out the window and saw a pair of kids - around ten or so - trying to run out the front door of the place, pursued by a pair of guards wearing all white and carrying batons that seemed to be crackling. Great, Jack thought, these people working here thought it'd be all fair to fucking stun baton kids.
And because this wasn't exactly a bustling location, they could probably get away with it - most of the nearby houses were either empty or probably in use by drug addicts. Vicki looked concerned at him, "Jack...?"
The door was opened before long and Jack barely even remembered closing it behind him.
One of the kids tripped and fell in the middle of the sidewalk as he tried to get away, and the House guard advanced on him, sinisterly waving the shock baton in the air. "You could've just confessed and repented your sins, Jed. But instead, you try and run away from Father Macklert. Now your flesh needs to be...mortified."
The swing of the baton was intercepted as Jack ran in and outright grabbed the electric shock baton with his bare hand. He grit his teeth as he felt the electric current bombarding his body, a low growl emanating from his throat as he refused to let go. The tubby guard tried to yank it back, but acquired no such purchase. Jack gripped the baton, tighter and tighter, and slowly the electric discharge started to wane. Until finally the baton outright shattered in his hand and half of it flew off to the side.
"...Really can't fucking stand assholes like you." Jack stood there in front of the kid, his clothes a little toastier from the electric discharge, but he could already feel the damages to his body going away. It seemed even while he was human there was something about his werewolf status that helped him heal.
The guard looked at Jack, looked at the shattered stun baton, looked back at the building, and wisely waddled back off into the relative safety of the building.
Jack turned and looked at the crying kid, and helped him up, "Hey, hey, it's all good now. I covered your daring getaway. I'm sure there are places a thousand times kinder than the Hezekiah House. My girlfriend can probably find a few." By now the other kid was walking back over.
The kid on the ground got up - evidently named Jed - and replied, "T-Thank you, mister. I just...you probably put yourself in way too much danger. The House doesn't like it when people interfere in its business. One sweet old lady got beaten up by the guards...threatened with suit and even worse! I saw it!"
Jack looked around and managed to find what he guessed would be a good enough house to use that night. Yeah, this erased any doubt in his mind - the bastards behind this place needed to be stopped, and stopped tonight. The kid was worried for him - sweet kid, but Jack had nothing he needed to worry over. Looking at the kid with a confident smirk, Jack said, "Trust me, if I was the Hezekiah House, I'd be more worried about Jack Romulus being on their case..." He gestured to himself with a thumb, "Than about anything else."
The car pulled over and Vicki got out next, stating, "I can find some nice, perfectly normal and kind orphanages for you two elsewhere. Jack, I think it's time we---"
"Yeah, time to prep for the night's events." Jack said as he headed toward the abandoned house, hearing the car start up before long and start to drive off with its two new passengers inside. If there was going to be one hunt he enjoyed commencing, it would be the one he started tonight. Jack trusted Krysta to help him with his focus and aim when he was in werewolf form - she'd already proven well enough that her mysticism was of assistance.
And so he went into the building to await that night's change. This was one night he actually looked forward to. Jack pulled out his phone and looked around, calling Vicki, "Alright, seems I'm alone in here for the night. If you could come by and get my clothes and stuff after I'm out, it'd be good. That mystic says she can keep my Werewolf self on the straight and narrow, so no need to worry."
-------------------------
Dale Hanney thought he had quit the heroin cocktails before, but as the bum stumbled downstairs and heard some grunting, groaning, and moaning, he thought he heard a wet smacking noise. He adjusted his eyes as he looked at what initially seemed like a human guy, seeming to suddenly grow all hairy...no all covered in fur. His head elongating into a wolf-like muzzle and ears growing out. He was obviously in a lot of discomfort as it went on. Becoming bigger and more dangerous looking...and Dale for his part just assumed he was incredibly wasted from the heroin he swore he didn't take. "I'm fucking done with drugs. Not even once after this, man." He even thought he heard a car outside before long.
He stumbled back upstairs.
------------------------
The Werewolf lived, and Jack Romulus slept in a dead sleep until morning. The beast tore through a boarded up window and out into the side street, looking up at the moon and howling. It hated being in this dark, twisted urban landscape, and knew it needed to hunt and kill and strike. But as it looked to the moon, it saw a woman's face in it. A beautiful, moon-pale woman with long flowing blond hair. She was somehow familiar to the Werewolf. "Jack...find your prey in the next building. My voice will guide you."
Soothing...it was amazingly soothing. The Werewolf felt her power wash over it, uniting Jack Romulus' trust of the lovely Lady Krysta with the Werewolf's primal mind. It could smell on the air that something was twisted in that building. That something within it deserved the hate of the Wolf. Looking in through a window and waiting until a passing guard looked past, the Werewolf pounced in short order, shattering the glass and seizing the guard by the throat as it leaped inside.
It crushed the man's throat before his pathetic gurgling could make any sort of effective call for help. So many small children scents here...and so much fear and sadness. It sickened the Werewolf. The Man-Creatures here needed to learn fear themselves, and who better to inflict that upon them? The Werewolf heard a noise coming and quickly barreled down the hallway. Another guard met his end by the Werewolf's claws and savage teeth.
Standing on two legs, the Werewolf surveyed its surroundings. The worst scent was upstairs, and a few remaining prey scents were between the Werewolf and its deserving victim.
The Werewolf navigated the stairwell, proceeding up, if it could complain about the structure of Man's homes, it would. The beast growled and looked around. Up here the fear scent was even stronger. It then saw a guard dragging a young girl along out of her room, toward one of the blood scented rooms. The Wolf reacted quickly and strongly, running up behind the man just as he turned to check what the noise coming so quickly toward him was...
...And he was disemboweled for it by the Werewolf. He who had hoped to beat a young girl bloody was now himself staring through dead glossy eyes at his own innards. The Werewolf ignored the sobbing girl, not even fit prey even without the soothing voice of Krysta in the back of its head. The Werewolf walked by as the girl ran off to her friends and fellow inmates. The Werewolf came upon the final guard, and the man barely had the time to scream.
He fell in front of the door and blood spurted on to it as the Werewolf bit down hard on his neck, clawed away at his gut, and got back up. The private room of the vile man Jared Macklert. Inside, Jared was only half clothed, looking at disgusting images and repulsive fictions, grinning and pawing at himself. His lascivious grin and attention fully on what he was doing meant he barely heard what was going on outside - on top of the fact the room was soundproofed.
Macklert turned his head curiously at the stain on the door as he heard something seeming to claw momentarily at the door. His eyes widened. He started to get up, looking around in the dark for wherever his personal handgun was. Resting his hand on it...
...In time for the door to explode off its hinges, and the Werewolf to come barging into the room. It smelled the scents of violation, of violence, of hurt, of desecration, and vicious sadistic glee. Even the beast was disgusted - and it had more reasons to be than Jack Romulus might assume. Prominently in the back of the room was a strange altar. Resembling a Christian prayer altar at first, it distorted as it went up, until it resembled three ghastly serpentine heads peering down. Red eyed serpent, green eyed serpent and black eyed serpent.
Something in the Werewolf recoiled at this graven image. It turned its fury upon the man who worshiped at this altar of debasement. Jared Macklert pointed his gun at the wolf and fired all the rounds in the pistol. Each hit home, but either fell off or were healed immediately. Only silver could really harm a Werewolf, with few exceptions. And there were no silver bullets in that pistol. The reality of the situation dawned upon the religious man, and he fell backward, and tried as he might to prostrate himself. His mind played over all the victims he had over the years.
Somehow he saw a reflection of Krysta in the icy shine of the Werewolf's eyes, saw her frightened young girl form melt and turn into the angrily determined form of a young woman. Someone eager and strong and capable of preventing him from victimizing any more people. "P-Please! I am a wealthy, powerful man! I can give you all manner of riches and gifts! You can't kill me!" But the Werewolf advanced on Jared Macklert nonetheless, for it did not care for such earthly belongings - it only cared for the hunt and the prey and ripping open such creatures as this bloated walking carcass.
Jared Macklert screamed as it pounced upon him!!
And the werewolf did not care, for it eviscerated him all the same. The beast fell upon him like a storm of violence, tearing him limb from limb, blood gushing and staining everything in the room. The man died quickly - but agonizingly. Splayed open and splattered to pieces by the Werewolf, the beast feasted as best it could. With the voice of Krysta guiding it, the Werewolf would eat well tonight - feasting on the architects of evil of Hezekiah House. The children would awake the next morning to the smell of their tormentors' dead bodies, and see the results of the Werewolf's feast.
---------------
The Werewolf strangely found itself drawn toward an old Emporium in time for morning, leaping from building to building and climbing down odd metallic thin roads on the sides of buildings, the beast felt at home here. It was where the lovely woman's voice came from. The morning sun was coming, and with that, the awakening of Jack Romulus from his long night's sleep.
The wolf howled one more time as it slinked inside, its fur retracting back into its body, its muzzle returning to humanoid structure, arms and legs changing - claws turning back into hands and feet. The tail slowly disappearing back into the body. Lupine features vanishing as the Werewolf's consciousness faded. Jack returned to life, moaning aloud as he felt the last of the changes hit him and revert his body back to the state of a - mostly - human man, though the indications of what he was remained.
Jack rubbed his chest hair and stretched, his nudity not even bothering him any more. "Ahh, and since I'm here, I'm guessing the mission was a success." Jack stretched and wiped some residual blood off his mouth on some nearby curtain cloth. Hopefully slaughtering the pedo in chief and his gross little underlings would help Krysta as much as she thought it would.
Before long, Krysta emerged from the main Emporium area, greeting Jack with a smile, "You did it! I can feel the shadow has left. The other children are free of his depredations." She had evidently been taking to sleeping around this joint. Jack admitted that he found that kind of depressing.
"Soon as you're ready to help me out with the issue of the Necromancer, I'm good. I understand it's morning and all, so take your time." Jack looked at himself in one of the nearby mirrors, half covered in dust. He'd really taken to the job he did tonight, and nothing by this point even seemed all that unusual in his reversion. Was he...getting used to this kind of a life? He hoped not. He hoped to eventually return to some semblance of normality.
But something told him that might be rather difficult.
"Jack?" Krysta shouted from the main room, "You can come in. Skyclad or not. I am ready to give you your answers." She was finally freed of the shadow of the past, and that was what Jack cared about. This poor woman had been put into abject hell as a child before she was adopted by Master Taboo, and if this alleviated the burden of it, he was happy for it.
Taking a seat - still naked - Jack looked around. The room was wide and obviously used to have a much bigger, healthier audience. Now it barely worked. But there was still a table with five chairs, and a crystal ball levitating in the air in the middle of the table. Jack took a seat, and looked into the crystal ball. Unsurprisingly, it showed Detective Battle during his day job before long. Jack murmured, "...Okay fucker, you're next."
Krysta intoned, "Detective Battle is indeed the Necromancer you search for. The Thief of Magics, the despoiler of gifts. But he does not work alone. He knows, on some account, of your nature. You must go to the police station and speak to Lieutenant Wallace, an old friend of mine. He can assist you in the task to come." Jack did admit it made some sense. Not all the police would be the kinds of people who'd be on board with starting a zombie apocalypse in order to what? Act on political goals? He had at least one friend or two on the Force going by this.
Jack started to get up, "Thanks for the help, Krysta. I'll...be in touch just in case."
Krysta looked at him in a certain way Jack could definitely recognize, "Please do." He could tell she was very much into him, and was...definitely a beautiful chick. Jack considered what to do from here. He looked out at the front room. Vicki was probably waiting for him...