"Actually...this is normally the part of the horror movie where we'd get killed, because you turn on us," you reply, terrified inwardly, doing your best not to show it.
The man and woman smiled at each other. "If it was your deaths that we wanted, that would already have happened," the man replied, "Whether by our childrens' fangs, or by our own.
"So you're going to let us go?" Becky asked, sounding half hopeful, half disappointed, almost.
The woman shook her head. "You see, although we love our children, they are flawed."
"Flawed?" you ask. "You mean OTHER than the fact they turn into ravenous beasts when the moon is full? What, are they dyslexic as well?"
"You'd do well to remember you're still in the lair of the predator, darling," the woman warned, a dark tone in her voice, smiling as you seem to recoil in fear.
"What my mate means," the man continued, "is that they are far from the perfect predators that we are. They are not the continued evolution of our species. You see, their brains cannot comprehend their actions in the moonlight."
"Uhhh, what?" Becky asked.
"If you met them during the day, the citizens of the island would seem as normal as anyone you've ever known. If you were to tell them they were werewolves, they'd think you were insane. They don't have any recollection of their activities, not even in dreams. Their condition has caused a literal split in their psyches," the man said.
"It's only once the sun has gone down that their minds begin to cede control to the hunter inside, and they begin to stalk the prey that comes to the island on the ferry," the woman said, playing with Becky's hair.
"So...your offspring are schizophrenic," you say, "What's that got to do with us?"
"I'm glad you get right to the point," the woman says, "You see, we've determined that the division is due to how the new pack members are being gifted. Whether from fangs, or the bottled beer, the end result is always the same."
"What's going to happen to those girls?" Becky asked.
"It's interesting to watch how the human aspects of the mind attempt to reconcile what has occurred," said the man, "More often than not, if they're over eighteen, any survivors elect to stay on the island. They get jobs and homes here, usually cutting ties with anyone on the mainland. The community accepts them as one of their own. It seems subconsciously they KNOW pack members when they see them."
"Those girls weren't eighteen," you reply. "What's going to happen to them?"
"There's a chance they might stay; we've seen that happen," the woman said, "Normally, they go back home. But again, somehow subconsciously, almost, they seek to come back to the island when the moon will be full. Sometimes, they bring friends."
"I'm still trying to figure out what this has to do with us," you say, worrying that suddenly Becky is going to turn into a werewolf and kill you.
"The problem is with the purity of the pheremones and musk," the man said. "To put it simply, we're offering you a chance to become what we are."
"You want us to be monsters?" You ask, outraged.
"If we were monsters, you would be dead, child," the woman said, her eyes flashing yellow. "Monsters have no reason, no rules to live by. We are more than monsters, more than human. We are the ultimate predator, and we are offering you the ULTIMATE opportunity."
"Opportunity?" Becky asked, leaning back on her stool, leaning into the woman. She stared up at her with what seemed almost like adoration for a moment. "What opportunity are you talking about?"
"Someone who receives the gift not by fang, and not by preserved fluid, but by FRESH fluids from the two of us would be nearly as powerful as we are," the man said, "All of our children are beholden to us. We can make them hunt, we can make them kill, and under the cover of darkness, we can make them change. We ourselves can change any time, day or night. While they have nothing special in the daytime, we continue to benefit from our heightened senses and strength. We barely age, unlike our children. THAT is what we offer the two of you. Youth, youth eternal. Beauty, power. All you have to do is say yes."
"So what do YOU get out of it?" you ask them, knowing this isn't a one-sided bargain.
"This is why you and your friend were chosen," the woman says, massaging Becky's shoulders again, but sliding her hands just slightly underneath the fabric of her top. "Your mind. You didn't refuse to accept we existed, you simply declared that we did. You've been on your guard since the ferrymen showed their nature." She tilted Becky's head upward, looking down into her eyes, "And you, when confronted with danger did everything to save yourself. You didn't panic. You see, girls, if you take the offer, you'd know everything you did, no matter which shape you did it in. You wouldn't feel a need to be back here. You could establish a new pack on the mainland. You two could be alpha queens of the werewolf evolution of the world. THAT is what we get out of it."
"What if we say no?" you ask.
"It's very simple, really," the man says, "We just bite you anyway. You become a broken pair of packmates, and we wait for the next suitable girls to come along."
"Or," the woman said, "We could eat you. It's been quite some time since we've had a romantic dinner with just the two of us, hasn't it, darling?" She laughed, and the man joined in.
"That doesn't sound like much of an offer," you tell them, "It sounds more like you're asking us if we want to live or die."
"I'd argue it's a hell of an offer. How many times does the hunter give the hunted a chance to live?"