sucked the majority of the debris and bodies into the sky. Who knows what toxic ash and gases would abound had physics not gone on holiday for the morning. Günn is desperate for her left eye to stop twitching, not just because it’s annoying (because it really fucking is), but because it’s a crack in her stone fox face. It tells people she’s not unbreakable, and she can’t have that.
The two detectives make their way inside and locate the four survivors, all housed on the fourth floor. The detectives check in at the nurse’s station and ask for the doctor on call.
“I’m Detective Red Feather, LAPD,” he flashes his badge. Günn follows suit. “We’re here to interview the Crane Massacre survivors.”
“I’m Nurse Pratchett. The doctor is in surgery at the moment, but I can help you.”
“Pratchett? That’s an unfortunate name for a nurse,” Günn says, thinking about One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and giving the nurse a sideways look.
Nurse Pratchett lets out a huge breath. “Actually her name was Ratched.” The nurse spells it out then points to her own nametag which reads Nurse Anne Pratchett. “See?” Red Feather can tell this is a rote introduction for the woman, and why she’s the only one they’ve seen wearing a nametag.
“My bad. Sorry,” Günn says, not sounding sorry at all.
Pratchett shakes her head, “Nevermind.” Her accent places her as a Londoner, and a fancy one. “Come on then. But first I must tell you, that girl in the werewolf costume?”
Günn and Red Feather nod.
“She’s not wearing a costume.” Pratchett waits for their reaction.
“Come again?” Günn is annoyed at this timewasting.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Except in movies, that is. But this isn’t a movie.” The nurse keeps thinking that any moment she’ll wake up.
“Not as far as we know,” Günn scowls. “So you’re saying she’s a teen wolf?” She snorts, an ugly sound from a pretty woman.
“Not fully, she’s some sort of hybrid human. Maybe there’s another word for what she is, but as far as we and the doctors can tell, she’s at least part wolf.”
Red Feather and Günn exchange a glance.
“But that’s not even the strangest part,” Nurse Pratchett looks pained, as if by uttering the next words the detectives would lock her up in the loony bin instead. “Well, seeing is believing, so just come with me. I’ll show you.”
Nurse Pratchett’s rubber soles make a squige squige sound on the tile floor as she takes the detectives to the wolf girl’s room. “Here we are. See for yourself.”
Red Feather and Günn set eyes upon a hirsute woman, passed out and snoring. Her hands end in hooked claws and her palms are cracked and leathery like an old dog’s paws. Her feet are also clawed, but flat and long, also with that tough dog-like skin. This one could walk on broken glass and not get cut.
“Nurse, will you just get to the freaking point already.” Günn is not known for her patience. Or her people skills.
Red Feather stares at the supine woman, thinking back to the crime scene and having watched her carted off in the ambulance. His eyes widen. “Oh my God. She has two legs.”
Nurse Pratchett nods, relieved. “So you saw her when she came from the wreckage?”
“She was bleeding profusely from her left leg. It ended just above her kneecap.” Holy hell.
“That leg is one hundred percent accounted for now, Detective.” Pratchett shakes her head. Disbelief is the word of the day.
“There’s no way…” Günn starts but doesn’t finish, her eye twitching so badly it might be an eyelash trapped in there.
“The proof is in the pudding, Detective Günn. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and before you ask me how it’s possible, I’ll tell you that it’s not.”
The two detectives and the nurse stare at the wolf girl whose amputated leg has grown back and wonder which dimension they’ve inadvertently entered. Nurse Pratchett curses
The two detectives make their way inside and locate the four survivors, all housed on the fourth floor. The detectives check in at the nurse’s station and ask for the doctor on call.
“I’m Detective Red Feather, LAPD,” he flashes his badge. Günn follows suit. “We’re here to interview the Crane Massacre survivors.”
“I’m Nurse Pratchett. The doctor is in surgery at the moment, but I can help you.”
“Pratchett? That’s an unfortunate name for a nurse,” Günn says, thinking about One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and giving the nurse a sideways look.
Nurse Pratchett lets out a huge breath. “Actually her name was Ratched.” The nurse spells it out then points to her own nametag which reads Nurse Anne Pratchett. “See?” Red Feather can tell this is a rote introduction for the woman, and why she’s the only one they’ve seen wearing a nametag.
“My bad. Sorry,” Günn says, not sounding sorry at all.
Pratchett shakes her head, “Nevermind.” Her accent places her as a Londoner, and a fancy one. “Come on then. But first I must tell you, that girl in the werewolf costume?”
Günn and Red Feather nod.
“She’s not wearing a costume.” Pratchett waits for their reaction.
“Come again?” Günn is annoyed at this timewasting.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Except in movies, that is. But this isn’t a movie.” The nurse keeps thinking that any moment she’ll wake up.
“Not as far as we know,” Günn scowls. “So you’re saying she’s a teen wolf?” She snorts, an ugly sound from a pretty woman.
“Not fully, she’s some sort of hybrid human. Maybe there’s another word for what she is, but as far as we and the doctors can tell, she’s at least part wolf.”
Red Feather and Günn exchange a glance.
“But that’s not even the strangest part,” Nurse Pratchett looks pained, as if by uttering the next words the detectives would lock her up in the loony bin instead. “Well, seeing is believing, so just come with me. I’ll show you.”
Nurse Pratchett’s rubber soles make a squige squige sound on the tile floor as she takes the detectives to the wolf girl’s room. “Here we are. See for yourself.”
Red Feather and Günn set eyes upon a hirsute woman, passed out and snoring. Her hands end in hooked claws and her palms are cracked and leathery like an old dog’s paws. Her feet are also clawed, but flat and long, also with that tough dog-like skin. This one could walk on broken glass and not get cut.
“Nurse, will you just get to the freaking point already.” Günn is not known for her patience. Or her people skills.
Red Feather stares at the supine woman, thinking back to the crime scene and having watched her carted off in the ambulance. His eyes widen. “Oh my God. She has two legs.”
Nurse Pratchett nods, relieved. “So you saw her when she came from the wreckage?”
“She was bleeding profusely from her left leg. It ended just above her kneecap.” Holy hell.
“That leg is one hundred percent accounted for now, Detective.” Pratchett shakes her head. Disbelief is the word of the day.
“There’s no way…” Günn starts but doesn’t finish, her eye twitching so badly it might be an eyelash trapped in there.
“The proof is in the pudding, Detective Günn. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and before you ask me how it’s possible, I’ll tell you that it’s not.”
The two detectives and the nurse stare at the wolf girl whose amputated leg has grown back and wonder which dimension they’ve inadvertently entered. Nurse Pratchett curses
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