All that place is missing is walls painted with their arterial spray for subjecting anyone else but them to that horror.
The bike fired at the first press of the starter and he blipped the gas a couple of times before he swung it towards the road.
Double checking the flat package inside his jacket, he flipped down the visor and clicked into gear and headed out.
Sugar would be happily busy for a while , and he ....
He would attend to that pleasant niggle in the back of his mind.
This was shaping up to be a GOOD day.
...
"well, well, well..i knew you would be coming over for dinner at some point, but no-one mentioned anything about canine meat being on the menu tonight!"
sugar pulled her prisoner by her hair, onto the nearest seat and tied her up. "i'll be asking you a series of 'yes' or 'no' questions. if you answer honestly, we'll move onto the next question. if not, so helpme god those things that haven't been invented yet will be the least of your problems."
wolfbitch struggled, mumbling through her gag. sugar instinctively raised the back of her hand, but paused when she saw the sheer desparation in her prisoners eyes. something had changed...
*
as she heard the bike pull up to the front of the house, she hastily tied the gag back around wolfbitch's mouth and removed all traces of blood and syrup. she pulled her dishevelled hair back up and straightened herself out.
"now now, we don't need to tell lycan what really happened here do we?"
Exhausted , he kicked down the bikes stand, hopped off , and walked round the back of the house to the raggedy gate that led off into the woods.
He dropped his jacket by the back step , lit a smoke and wandered his way slowly to the little cabin , the door giving way with a protesting creak.
He left it open , and dragged the old chair out the door and onto the delipidated porch, and poured himself a port.
Here and there an owl called , and the haunting cry of a whip-poor-will carried through the trees .
He took a sip of the port , and sat back in the chair, staring out into the moonlit nothing -ness. The pain in his back was easing now, but the jagged cut that threaded its way up his ribs was not. He would attend to it later ...he thought to himself .
Right now , the peace of the night and its inhabitants , was the only thing that calmed him , and took the edge off the endless barrage of white noise in his head.
A crack and a stabbing pain in his lip snapped him out of his relaxation. Putting his hand to his lip he pulled it away covered with blood. Without thinking he'd bitten the side out of the port glass.
It was a small shard really, and it came out easily, and he flicked it off the porch and out into the leaves, and spat the pooling claret in his mouth .
Taking a good long swig of his drink, he rinsed his mouth and swallowed it. waste not want not, he mused to himself, and sat there silently, watching the rise of the moon over the old oaks.
