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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Horror/Scary · #1537502
What else could ever make werewolves interesting? this is something new...
Chapter One

He kept in the shadow, falling back against the wall to a sitting position, a few inches to the right of where he just entered, and began to cry. It wasn't the tears of a twenty-nine year old man that came down his cheeks, they were the tears of a child; the wild gasps, the little squeals, the loud cries, intertwined, unthinking. For him, heaven had just turned straight to hell.
Storm gray eyes lifted heavenward, and the blood soaked man sank back against the pew in total exhaustion. The church around him was quiet and still, only a few candles lit on the alter. Everything seemed surreal to him at the moment, and it was then that the first onslaught of giggles leaked out from somewhere deep in his chest.
Raziel was beyond hysterics. He was a man on the edge.
'No', he thought absently, 'Not a man. A monster.' Raziel looked at the crucified image of Christ on the wall behind the alter, and suddenly felt that the savior of mankind was menacing him. Chills ran through his body, and a wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks. He did not make it out of the church in time before spewing his grizzly feast upon the stone floor of the entranceway. The sight of the flesh he had ingested just hours before made him run as fast as he could from the church.

Vague memories of an all-consuming darkness assaulted Raziel, and he became acutely aware of the hunger pangs. His stomach crawled and lurched crazily, and Raziel found that his form was changing again.

His innards began twisting violently, and Raziel's knees gave out beneath him as he tried to intake breath. He could hear his spine crunching as it grew longer, hear as the ribs inside of him stretched as his organs reformed. Pain blinded Raziel, and he cried out, only to be startled by the guttural sound that came out of his mouth. The bones in Raziel's face began splitting and readjusting, and an inhuman whine came from his transforming nose. Hair spurted crazily from every one of Raziel's pores at the same time that his hands shrank down to a mixture of a dog paw and a lizard's claw.

Raziel's teeth became wickedly curved as they exploded from his newly formed jawline, and the pain subsided. His mind lashed out for control against the animal, he was screaming as the thing he was becoming tried to stuff him deep down in his own subconscious. He could see the beast writhing horribly as he fought, and taking courage from the fact that he was having such an effect, he pushed harder. Of a sudden, he felt the beast's claws tearing into his flesh, knocking him backwards, and then he was plunged into darkness again; alone and afraid. Terror gripped him; he knew what the beast was feeling, could hear it thinking. It was angry at him. It didn't want to share this body. It wanted to be the only consciousness within; it wanted Raziel dead.
“Why do you exist?” The booming question startled Raziel. The thing was TALKING to him. It was intelligent; something that greatly surprised Raziel.
“What do you mean?” Raziel was truly puzzled, his fragmented memory struggling to remember, then his head felt as if it were splitting open, so he stopped the exploration.
“You do not belong here. What are you?” The thing hissed.
“I don't belong? You are the interloper here; I don't know what you,” Raziel began, but then a great resounding growl silenced him.
“I am Asiel.” This time the beast sounded amused, and Raziel felt his prison lurch as the animal he had become regained control over his body, felt as it slowly fell into an easy gait. “And your name would be?”
“Raziel. Why is it important to you?” Raziel asked, bewildered; reeling from the impossibilities of this situation.
“Raziel, haven't you memories? Don't you know me? It is strange, is it not?” Asiel mused huskily; his voice was like thunder, low and menacing. Chills ran through Raziel.
“No.” It was true. Every time he had tried to remember anything other than his name, Raziel drew a blank, often making his head pound with frustration.
“What a trick your master has played on you...” Asiel was subtle, obviously choosing his words cryptically.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Confusion seeped out in Raziel's tone, and Asiel laughed; the sound echoing impossibly.
“Do you know what your name means?” The thing growled. “Secret of God. Do you know what mine means? Hmm?”
“No.” Raziel replied numbly.
“Made by God. I was made by God, but I do not serve him. I do not serve anyone but myself now. To answer your earlier question, I am a Hell Hound, bound in servitude to the Beast himself; but no longer will I stand guard against the demons and human souls who wish to escape the flames. And NO ONE,” Asiel bellowed, “Will ruin my own escape, not even you.”
Raziel felt as if what Asiel was saying held truth; something stirred in his memory, but as he tried to focus on it, it became elusive. Suddenly, Raziel was aware of a large set of yellow eyes focused on him in the outskirts of his pitch-black prison cell, and as he stared into them, a flood of visions filled his head.
A man in armor, 16th century-ish, was standing in front of him, sword in hand. The helm had a shock of long red fur extending gracefully from the top, swirling wildly in a breeze Raziel could not feel, the soldier's eyes blazing and intent on it's target; face screwed with fury. The knight's target was an impossibly large wolf, which lay on the hard earth bleeding in torrents from it's many injuries. The wolf growled, and rush of dark red blood seeped from in between it's bared fangs. The sword came arching down, and then the vision shifted violently, so that Raziel was brought to his knees.

Another man, similar to the first, but this had to be much earlier, the armor was more leather than anything, almost viking-esk. Battle was raging here, and Raziel sidestepped the giant wolf as the vision moved around him, enveloping him within the past. The wolf was retreating, and as the animal turned toward where Raziel was kneeling, he gasped as he saw the gaping holes where it's eyes should have been. Something had torn through both of it's eyes, through the beast's snout; a clean cut that was horizontal and terrible in it's berth.
The scene shifted again, faster than the time before; Raziel stumbled dizzily to his feet just in time to duck as the same wolf bolted over his position, right onto the end of a long pike, it's startled and pained yelp piercing his eardrums.
Many battles flashed in his vision, all different locals, all featuring the wolf and his human advisary. Always the wolf's last horrible moments. Raziel could almost smell the burning flesh, the blood, the gore. His stomach turned wildly, and he bit back the bile he felt surfacing.
Then, suddenly, the wolf was not the focal point; Raziel turned and stared at the human, understanding dawning on him. They were all him. Raziel was here in all of these long fought battlescenes. Always the slayer; terrible in all of his fury.
“Do you see, Raziel? You have always known me.” Asiel was there suddenly, the great wolf standing at Raziel's side. “Always His loyal servant, His weapon, His defense against his loathsome enemy. I understand; I know your hand was always forced, your destiny writ long before even I was born to Him.
“You never can know yourself, it seems.” Asiel was thoughtful, his luminous golden eyes boring into Raziel's. “But how does this help you prevail, I wonder? How can you win, in here, like this?”
“Compromise.” Raziel choked out automatically, somehow the answer bursting forth from his mouth unbidden.
“If that is true, then your master is far more cruel than even I had thought. I will not abide you for long, Raziel. This is merely an inconvenience to me; nothing more.” Asiel's voice was hard, cold.
Panic settled in on Raziel as the wolf's warning sunk in. If all that he had seen in the visions was true, then he was destined to defeat the wolf. But how? It seemed impossible; every time before was a physical confrontation. How did you destroy something that lay within? Something that at any moment could take total control, hijacking your body for it's own sick and twisted whims?
“I grow weary of you, Secret of God. Stay well.” Raziel felt their minds unentwine, a feeling much akin to a heavy blanket being ripped off of you while in the midst of sleeping. It left him cold and confused, and for a moment all he could hear was his own ragged breathing.
“Asiel?” No use. He had left Raziel to his own devices. And so Raziel sat, and waited.


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