[LycanDope]

Chapter 4
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Dorothy Ann stared at her work - modified Sumerian script heavy on the pleading to Enki for intercession with a subscript in a lost Egyptian pictographic text to help ward against demons. It'd taken her years to learn the very basics of the second language and she'd had to torture three people to even discover its existence.

Twelve years on the run. Twelve long, sad years. She sat crossed-legged in front of the diagram. A little over twelve years ago, she'd decided on a whim to visit Ms. Frizzle. Her old school seemed much smaller than she remembered. Smaller and more dirty. The air around the school felt heavy and dreary and cold. For a moment, she'd considered turning back but she was nothing if not head strong.

The old school bus wasn't around and she wondered if that meant Ms. Frizzle was gone. Rather than walk into the school (she hated dealing with old teachers - they always spent way too long praising their former star student) she went around to the side of the school where Ms. Frizzle's class used to be. Oddly enough, the blinds were closed even though it was a beautiful Spring day. Stepping around badly maintained bushes (what happened to the school, she wondered) she peeked through the corner of the window through a gap in the blinds.

What she saw changed her life. The desks of the classroom were arranged in a circle. Glowing, unrecognizable text lined the walls and there was a faint whiff of some noxious stench coming through the cracks in the window's sealant. The room was completely empty except for the desks. There were no tables or displays or cheery little fake skeleton showing the various bones in the body. The students, so young at that age, sat in their desks with their heads down or back but eyes closed, every one. Their mouths occasionally moved as if they were speaking.

Ms. Frizzle stood in the center of the desks with her arms out. She was then as she was now - over six feet tall and pure red. Naked and hairless with tiny horns and claws. Her breasts hung low on her chest, black nipples on even darker aureole. Her massive wings were pulled tight against her back like a leather cloak. The monstrosity turned in a slow, luxurious circle, smiling lightly with just the hint of fangs showing. Ms. Frizzle's eyes were maroon with a pinpoint of black in the center. Her eyes were focused far into the distance as her mind wandered. Dorothy Ann could barely find her breath. Her hand shook on the little window ledge as she watched the scene in horror.

Suddenly, the demon stopped. Its nose crinkled. And then, it smiled wider, mouth opening to show full fangs and a pure black forked tongue. It LOOKED at her. "Ah. Dorothy Ann. You've come back to me."

She ran. She dropped her ever-present backpack and ran. Years of sitting against the wall in gym class with her nose buried in a book caught up to her. She stumbled, chest burning from the sudden exertion. Leaning against a nearby tree, she caught her breath until she could run again. Five miles to her home from school. Cars passed her with some people smiling and waving as she gasped for air. For the first mile she alternated running and walking until she could no longer run. She walked the rest of the way, her mind racing at possibilities.

The police lights were visible six blocks away. She'd subconsciously heard the loudspeaker the police were using but she'd been too distracted to understand what was being said. When her house finally came into view, she stumbled into a nightmare worse than the classroom. Her father stood on their front lawn, soaked in blood with eyes nearly completely white. In front of him, held tight by his flabby arms, was her little sister, just a few years younger than her. Her dad was screaming at the police. "It's because of that bitch! Because of her! Oh god! Oh god! Please help me! I can't stop myself! I'm coming for you next, you little whore! Stop talking stop talking stop talking! Get out of my head! Ohhhh god! I'll kill you all! I'll kill you all and rape your corpses!"

Her dad, the man who raised her gently and lovingly throughout the years brought his teeth down to his young daughter's slim neck. With no hesitation, he bit in hard and reared back, spraying his face and body with massive amounts of blood.

And then he laughed.

Dorothy Ann vomited as the police opened fire. The roar of gunfire deafened her and they were still firing when she stumbled away, half blind from the tears in her eyes. The next few hours were a blur of sounds and images. People. Cars. Dogs barking. She didn't remember getting on the Greyhound and didn't even know where it was going; she just left. She came to when the man next to her started talking. This jolly old man that was on his way to see his daughter in New York. He offered Dorothy Ann a place to stay while they traveled and she accepted. That same jolly old man raped her the third night of the trip on one of the stops. There was nothing different about his behavior as he walked her to the local 7-11 for some snack foods - he just took her into an alley and raped her as if it was the most ordinary thing. She almost stayed with him. Where else did she have to go? As she stood there, shaking with her panties around her ankles, she almost just put her clothes back on and kept going with him. It took every ounce of her frayed willpower to walk away. And then more to keep walking.

The next year she was raped four more times as she made her way East. She stole, did drugs and sometimes sold her body for money until a police officer caught her. An honest police officer. He didn't arrest her. He picked her up and drove for a while, talking about life choices and her future. She'd laughed at him. Finally, he dropped her off at a huge house with other teenagers and some young women. They talked to her more. They'd seen some of the horrors she had - some worse. They took her in and calmed her through her withdrawals. They were kind of listened and cried with her. When she got better, when she started seeing more clearly again, they got her in touch with a Catholic priest. Her old studious habits had resurfaced and she turned out to be very good at languages. Father Fuego, the priest, needed help with translations and she jumped at the chance to do something with her life. He was her lead into working on Sumerian texts and they both traveled through parts of Iraq, talking with some of the nomadic people to learn their legends and histories. Neither of them truly believed in demons until they found a crypt in the middle of the desert. She'd had to kill the priest when he was consumed by the hungry spirit trapped inside.

She spent the next few weeks in the crypt taking notes and living off of the land. She learned to hunt and kill the few animals that lived nearby until she was fast and hard and strong. She learned of the ways to combat the demons living in their world. When she'd finished with the tomb, she collapsed the entrance and left, saying a small prayer for the old priest. It took nearly a month to barter and lie her way back into a ticket home but she finally did. Home. After the time she'd spent abroad and the dangers she'd faced, America now seemed like the foreign land. Dorothy Ann spent months hunting minor demons in the US, learning their habits and hunting grounds. When she was satisfied with what she found, she tentatively reached out to her old classmates. She stalked Arnold, afraid to show herself. Through simple wired microphones, she discovered the Halloween party and knew she had to act quickly.

And now, here she was. Too late. Too late to save all of them. With a sigh, Dorothy Ann drew the final vertical line in the center of the triangle, completing the pattern. There was no heavenly trumpeting or demonic screaming signaling the destruction of the barrier but she knew it was weakened or possibly destroyed. She stood, checking her various knives and talismans in a fluid and well practiced motion.

The front door rattled a bit but yielded to her when she pushed hard enough. Rather than potentially waste another knife, Dorothy Ann kicked a small rock towards the parking area. There was a small 'sst!' noise as the rock passed the barrier but it went without melting or bursting into flames.

"Promising," Dorothy Ann said out loud. "Guess there's nothing to do but go for it." With a few short steps she reached the barrier and, taking a deep breath, she stepped through. The effect was similar to taking a bath in rubbing alcohol but wasn't painful. She stopped, hands on her knives. The bus was there. Immediately, Dorothy Ann grabbed two of her knives from her side, raising the right above her head with the left pointed straight out. The bus turned its large eyes to her and the slightly rusted grill grinned. "Drop it! Drop the illusion or I'll make you do it!" She yelled.

Where the short bus was before was now a pink, fleshy, tentacled nightmare. The creature was nearly square and somewhat flat with bulbous protrusions dotting its back. Or stomach. Or... Dorothy Ann couldn't quite figure out which part was which. There was a toothless maw roughly where they bus's mouth used to be but no eyes. Hundreds of tentacles lined the perimeter, flailing in the cold night air. She'd never yet met a demon this powerful and so she began to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake. She could feel the aura radiating from it now that it wasn't pretending to be something else. Oh gods, she thought. Where did we sit? What did it do to us when we were riding it?

A powerful voice spoke to her mind. Little Dorothy Ann. Little terrified girl. Little pitiful thing. You thought you could save your friends, didn't you? You spent so many years training for this moment and, now that you're here, you wish you had never come. The doubt is in you, little one. The fear. Demon slayer? Righteous right hand of God? It laughed, deep and rich in her mind. Will you tell them how you created the spear to kill my pet?

Dorothy Ann's eyes tightened. She took a small sliding step forward, her knives vibrating from her grip. "No. Stop, demon. I command-"

Would they still thank you if they knew how you cut the little girl from throat to stomach, bathing the tip of the spear in the innocent virgin's blood? Would they still see you as their savior?

"I DRUGGED HER! SHE DIED IN BLISS, NEVER FEELING A THING!" Dorothy Ann felt a rage she'd not felt since Iraq. Not since that first tomb.

The laughter came again. And that makes it all right, does it? Poor little thing. Poor little scared thing. You tried so hard. You came so far. The voice left her mind and she shivered from its absence in the sudden, bottomless silence. When it came again, it was a wave crashing into her skull. Too far, little one. You never considered, did you? What your studies would do to you? Where your path would take you? You have more than one foot in the gateway to hell, little slut. Little whore. You sold your soul word by word, deed by deed, thinking it would protect you from things like me. Never once considering that it would only make you more vulnerable. Drop the knives, filthy little slut.

"No..." Dorothy Ann whispered. She fought it. The command reverberated through her body. Her grip loosened. "No. No, you can't." Her left hand opened, dropping the knife to the ground. She moaned and then grit her teeth, putting her entire body into the strength in her right hand. Stepping forward against the wall of force. "I'll kill you before-"

Drop it.

And, she did. Her hands fell to her sides. She felt tears welling at the corner of her eyes, the pain of defeat and humiliation catching in her throat. It wasn't fair. To have it come down to this. "Kill me then, monster. I'll meet you in hell some day and then I'll have my revenge."

Kill you? It asked, genuinely surprised. No. I have better plans for you, my little slut. My little pet. Strip and come to me.

Dorothy Ann's head snapped up. "Goddamn you, I won't-" But her hand was already working at the buckles near her waist.