A sharp jolt from his back caused Talbot to stiffen, his face twisted in pain. He let out several low groans as he fell to the ground. His back arched as several vertebrae snapped and dislocated, stretching his back farther than normal. Blood dripped from his mouth as his chest, now lifted from the ground by his bulking forearms, expanded and hardened.

Fur sprouted from every inch of Larry’s skin as the entirety of his arms, legs, and torso grew more muscular. All at once his fingernails cracked and split, making room for ten, two inch claws. His thick fingers dripped with his blood before the wounds healed themselves. Larry’s nose and mouth elongated slowly and painfully, coming together to form a snout. His mouth filled rapidly with blood as his human teeth retracted into his gums, making way for an elongated set of sharper teeth.

The figure that was once Larry Talbot hopped up from the floor, righting itself on its muscular legs. The beast’s yellow eyes glared up at the full moon, its snout rising up to the sky. Parting its elongated jaw, the creature let out a bellowing howl, blood still dripping from the corners of its mouth. Curling its fingers and cracking its stretched bones, the wolf crouched down onto its hands and sniffed the air. After being sent back to hell by the hunter, the Wolfman has risen again.

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The commotion coming from room 16C was enough to disturb the other customers. Randy had received several complaints regarding Mr. Talbot. Never in his time at the Duck Bill had Randy ever received noise complaints. Grabbing the key for Talbot’s room, Randy left his counter to confront the noisy guest.

As Randy made his way up the rickety staircase and down the hallway towards room 16C, he noticed it was quiet. Moving even closer to the room, he heard nothing. An eerie silence filled the small motel as he came to the door.

“Mr. Talbot?” Randy rapped lightly on the door. “The others are complaining about the noise you’re making.”

There was no answer but the sound of something scraping slowly against the door. The scraping seemed to stop at the middle of the door, where Randy’s chest was. A labored breathing rose from inside the room, causing Randy to step back for a moment.

“Mr. Talbot?” Randy reached for the lock on the door, sliding the key in slowly and turning it. The door clicked loudly in the dead silence.

As Randy reached for the doorknob, splinters of wood flew at him as a section of the door exploded. The inn owner tried to stumble backwards, but could not. Each time he tried to move, he could feel his chest pull away from him. He slowly looked down to the ground, and as he did an extreme pain shook his entire body. His eyes stared down at a furred hand that gripped his chest. He could feel the fingers digging deep into his skin, pulling him closer to the door. One finger gently scraped against his ribcage before pressing hard against the bone and snapping it. Randy tensed and fell limp. The last thing he felt was the thick talon slipping into his heart.

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Several guests at the inn came out of their dwellings to witness what the commotion was about. With new looks of fear on their face, they watched as the door burst off of its hinges and was pushed into the middle of the hallway. On one side of the door was the inn owner, blood dripping off of his lifeless body. On the other side was an abomination of nature; a wolf standing on its hind legs grasping onto the body of Randy McNaley through the thick wood. The beast growled as it threw down both the owner’s body and the door, licking its bloodied hand. Crouching down to the floor, the Wolfman pushed the door off of the corpse and started tearing its claws through the malleable flesh. Ripping off chunks of human meat, the wolf feasted, ignoring the crowd around him.

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As Abraham neared the inn, his ears caught wind of several screams, all coming from within. Before he even had the chance to step through the door, several patrons came running out, white as ghosts. Abraham grabbed hold of one man.

“Man wolf. The legends are true!” The man shuttered before pushing away from Van Helsing.

Abraham entered the inn and was struck with a familiar smell. Reaching underneath his jacket, Helsing produced his weapon, holding tightly onto the wooden end of the stake. In the silence of the Duck Bill, Abraham could make out a soft squishing sound coming from the second floor. He sighed to himself, aware of what the sound meant.

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The Wolfman tore off another piece of muscle, hungrily stuffing the meat into its mouth. After swallowing the sinew and licking the blood from its chops, the beast reared its head up from the body. Lifting its snout into the air, the lycanthrope took in a deep breath of air through its nose, followed by several short sniffs. The Wolfman sprang up off the floor and stood on its hind legs. The smell struck it again, stronger this time. The smell was familiar yet threatening; the hunter.

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A sudden thump cut off the sounds of the beast feasting which caused Van Helsing to stiffen. The beast knew he was there. Helsing’s fingers wrapped tighter around the wooden stake as he slowly approached the staircase. His breathes were slow, almost matching the speed of his steps. Being as quiet as he was, Van Helsing still knew the Wolfman could sense his exact location; no matter how careful he was, he still smelled of human.

Another noise broke the stillness and repeated. A soft click followed by the creaking of wood approached the stairs at a moderate pace. The creature wasn’t trying to hide its presence. Van Helsing froze as any prey would when they’ve realized their fate. The Wolfman wanted a confrontation; the beast, as primordial as it was, was craving retribution.

Abraham tensed even more as the creature started down the staircase. The beast’s claws could be heard dragging against the wall, as if to mimic the sound of bone being scraped. The furred figure appeared from behind the wall, and even with a half a stairwell to go down, it stopped and turned towards Abraham.

“Talbot…” Abraham spoke softly as he stared at the Wolfman.

The beast stared right back, its mouth dripping with the Duck Bill owner’s blood. The Wolfman snarled and took another step, its yellow eyes still glaring at Van Helsing.

“In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Abraham made the sign of the cross over his chest, “Amen.”

The Wolfman hopped down from the remaining stairs, crashing through the staircase banister. As it landed, the creature stretched towards the ceiling and roared as if to respond to the prayer.

Abraham took this brief moment as his chance to attack. Even though his body wanted to refuse any sudden and strenuous movement, Van Helsing lunged forward and jabbed the silver tip of the stake towards the beast.

The Wolfman reacted quickly, swatting at its oncoming foe. The creature’s backhand struck Abraham’s arms, sending him to the ground. Crouching down on all fours, the beast stared at its prey briefly before making its attack. Pushing off of its back legs, the Wolfman lunged at Abraham, its claws outstretched in front of him.

Abraham rolled to the side and as the Wolfman hit the spot where he was, Helsing jabbed the stake into the beast’s back. His hand pushed the stake in deeper, causing the man wolf to yelp in pain and swat at Abraham’s arm. The creature’s claw missed its mark, allowing Van Helsing to move away from his attacker.

Abraham wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched the creature writhe in pain. Van Helsing crossed his chest once more, praying softly to himself.

As Abraham drew nearer to the beast, he paused. His eyes caught a brief glimpse of a glimmer of light shining off of the dull color of the creature’s body. Helsing backed away from the Wolfman slowly as the creature dug one of its elongated claws beneath its skin and pushed the stake out of its body. As the double sided stake struck the ground, a splash of blood from the wooden side landed at Abraham’s feet. A small flicker of light struck his eye again as the silver side of the stake reflected a dimly lit lamp that stood behind Abraham.

The Wolfman dug its claws into the wooden floor as it righted itself. The creature’s eyes widened as its head swung in Abraham’s direction, its mouth dripping with the final drops of blood brought on by the intruding object, which lay on the floor, still dripping with the red liquid. The creature crept towards Abraham slowly, its back tensing as the puncture rapidly clotted with blood and healed over with a new patch of skin and fur.

Van Helsing reached into the inner pocket of his overcoat, feeling around for a second stake. His hand felt around the cloth lining, coming across nothing but the smoothness of the material. A bead of sweat dripped over his eye as Abraham Van Helsing, the fearless hunter of the supernatural, found himself staring death in the face. It wasn’t as he imagined it: A hospital bed with a first rate view over London, the sun shining down on his face as he peacefully slipped into unconsciousness, where the spirits of his former loved ones would carry him to heaven. No, the death he saw was not peaceful at all.

The Wolfman, its fur wet with drool; blood; and other viscous liquids, crouched down and let out a low toned growl. Its eyes narrowed and its jaw twitched as one massive leg moved forward, starting a slow and tantalizing approach towards its victim.

“Larry Talbot,” Abraham started to slowly back away from his stalking predator, “you must be able to control it.”

The Wolfman snarled in return, as if the sound of its real name caused the creature discomfort. The massive beast continued to approach its prey, the hunter that could no longer distill fear into the unnatural. As the hunter backed himself up into the countertop, the Wolfman stood in its place and rose, extending its legs and back to stand to its full 6 ½ feet.

Abraham stared at the towering beast as his hands searched the countertop for some form of defense. “Larry, you’re in there. You can control the be…”

The Wolfman took another step forward, its chest heaving inches before the hunters face. The creature’s hot breath flooded the space between the two, causing the hunter to choke briefly, his coughs echoing in the beast’s ears.

Abraham’s fingers came across something cold and smooth, and, without hesitation, he wrapped his fingers tightly around the object. The creature opened its mouth wide, the flesh of the Wolfman’s last victim in view for Abraham to see. Before the creature could strike, Van Helsing closed his eyes tight and swung his hand at the side of the creature’s head.

Glass shattered against Abraham’s hand and the Wolfman’s hard skin and water splashed onto the two adversaries. Abraham brought his empty hand up to cover his face from the shattered glass as he side stepped away from the creature.

Van Helsing made way for the stairs but stopped himself at the first step as a soft whimper from the creature struck his ears. He turned quickly and, much to his surprise, watched as the creature fell to the floor.

The Wolfman howled in pain as its body started to spasm. The side of its face, where the glass object struck, began to grow deformed, its skin bubbling underneath its thick fur. The bubbling began to pour over the creature’s body, and soon its fur started to dissipate, some of it falling to the floor.

Abraham, wide eyed in amazement, examined his hand for the same reaction the Wolfman had. Helsing found nothing but various scratches and gashes caused by the broken glass; but as he examined one gash further, he found himself staring at a bit of a purple flower.

When Abraham looked up from his hand, he found, in the place of the furred beast, a naked man sprawled out on the floor, lying in a puddle of vomit. The man groaned as he tried to move, his weak arms attempting to push him off of the floor.

Abraham rushed over to the helpless being and helped lift him off of the floor, his hand stinging madly as he did so. The man turned to face Abraham, and as he tried to speak, a jolt of pain struck the side of his face.

“Lawrence Talbot…” Abraham spoke softly, mainly to himself, as he helped the man to the staircase.

“You…” Larry Talbot slumped against the remaining banister as he sat on the third step. “…Must be Van Helsing.”

Abraham slipped out of his overcoat and draped it over the nude figure sitting in front of him, shivering beneath the cold air. He eyed Mr. Talbot over slowly, waiting for him to speak again.

“Why did I change? The moon is still full.” Larry spoke slowly, his hand reaching up to the side of his head to feel the cause of his discomfort. His fingers brushed over many small cuts, some still filled with tiny shards of glass.

Abraham reached out to Talbot and picked off a piece of the purple flower from the side of his face. He showed it to Talbot before pointing to the floor where more of the plant rest in the pool of muck.

“Wolfsbane.” Abraham said before placing the purple flower into Talbot’s hand.

Talbot placed the flower against his chest, directly over his heart. “It keeps the beast at bay.”

“Larry,” Abraham knelt down in front of Talbot, “who awoke you?”

Larry closed his eyes and remembered how it felt to have the life flow back into him, how painful it was as the curse of the beast once again took over his body. He thought hard, remembering how immediately after the stake was dug out from his body, the wound healed; he remembered the feel of the full moon as its light poured over his body; and finally, he remembered the words spoken by the tender voice of a woman shortly before the creature took over his body once again.