The door flew open and a strange bearded man with grey hair on his temples entered. He was wearing a black 3/4 overcoat, knee-high black boots, and black leather gloves. The werewolves wet with sex sweat paused and then started to growl lowly at the intruder. The man calmly drew a small object out of his pocket.
"What do you want?" roared Joe with drool streaming from his jaws.
"You'd be surprised what a man will go through for his favorite type of smokes. You know every European village used to have its own pack of werewolves, but then again I'm a pack day fellow," he gave a low gutteral laugh. Gabriela inched back nervously. There was something about this man.
The object in his hand flashed silver. A weapon? An amulet? No, a cigarette case!
"Big mistake!" howled Joe as he leapt up and across the room to pounce on the intruder.
The case popped open and the world seemed to spin. Joe couldn't understand, but everything was growing bigger as he swirled slowly through the air. His arms and legs were pinned to his body. His tail was pinned to his body. The rich earthy odor of tobacco filled his senses. He landed in the hard silver bed in the giant stranger's hand. The shewolves turned to flee, but the power of the case drew them in. Soon the case contained hand rolled brown cigarettes numbering exactly the number of Joe's pack.
Joe lay there immobile on the hard silver with Sara pressed up against him. Gabriela screamed silently in her mind, but the pack could hear her, and sense her circumstance. The giant had extracted her from the case and clipped off her end and lit it. He inhaled deeply and puffed an aromatic cloud of smoke into the now empty room.
"Yes," he remarked philosophically to himself, "Werewolves would have died out decades ago if I personally hadn't arranged to spready lycanthropy, and of course the only reason I do it is to supply my addiction to a pack a day." He chuckled and put his dark glasses back on, and inhaled more smoke. "Delicious."
Count Petofi left the site of the werewolf orgy, and checked his itinerary. "Collinsport? Heh, heh, ah that brings back memories, I wonder if Barnabas or Quentin are still lurking about, not to mention that troublesome Hoffman woman." He chomped angrily on Gabriella and puffed heavily until she was fine ash. He tapped the silver case holding the remaining members of the pack, and entered the train station with the large NO SMOKING signs all over the place. Planes had been around for about a third of his lifespan, but Count Petofi still found them off-putting.