Chapter Seventy Two

I growled in irritation, fighting the urge to scratch my front leg.  It was still tingling, but the past day had proven that scratching it would only result in bleeding cuts and even itchier scabs.  My back leg was back to normal, which wasn't surprising since the bite hadn't been as deep.  I could feel just enough with my front leg to stand on it, but I couldn't run.  Not that I'd be able to run anyway, being stuck in this stupid cage.
 
In the kitchen, Fisher laughed, and the smell of his steak made my mouth water.  He'd practically been skipping around the house the past day, singing about how I was going to make him rich.  On the floor of my cage was a pile of dry dog food, which Fisher had poured through the bars to keep me from biting him.  The TV was on, playing some stupid cartoon I'd never heard of— my only reward for winning the fight.
 
A whole day.  Twenty four freaking hours, and now there were only two more days until the full moon.  Two days to break out with my bum leg and get… I didn't even know how far away I was from my town!  For all I knew, it would take a week of driving just to get home, and I didn't have a car.
 
I sighed, and laid down.  I needed to get out of here.  I needed a plan.  If I could just get out of this cage, I wouldn't even waste time killing Fisher.  Kimberly needed me, which was just about the only thing I cared more about right then than making that creep suffer.  How was she doing right now?  Was she—
 
“How's your leg?" Fisher asked, appearing at the edge of my cage.  He peered through the pars, being careful not to get too close, and licked his lips like he was thinking about eating me.  “Still can't stand on it?"
 
No, I couldn't.  If I was going to get bitten by a Silverblood, why couldn't it have been one that came as advertised, I thought grumpily?  Leave it to Majestic to make a silver-immune werewolf that was only partly immune to silver before letting it go on a rampage.
 
“No?" Fisher asked, looking at my expression.  “Try walking around on it a little."
 
Oh gee, I thought, maybe I would if I wasn't CRAMMED INSIDE A FREAKING KENNEL YOU IDIOT!
 
“You've got another fight tonight, Sparkles," he said, shaking his head.  “So you'd better be up and running by then."
 
My eyes widened in shock.  He wanted me to do another fight in this condition?
 
“Hey, don't look at me like that!" he said defensively. “This is your job, after all.  How do you think I'm gonna take care of you if you don't bring in the money?"
 
I stared at him, unbelieving, for a few seconds.  Then I stood up, shaking a little on my bad leg, and threw myself at the cage wall.  I didn't get anywhere close to him, of course, but I tried to convince myself that if I just bit down a little harder on the iron bars, I'd cut straight through them and finally be able to punish him.
 
“Yeah, that's the spirit!" he laughed, clapping his hands together. “Keep that up, maybe you can win another, even with that leg of yours!"
 
I growled at him, and he laughed, but then we both fell silent when a knock came from the door.  We both turned our heads in unison to look at the entryway.
 
“Who's that?" Fisher wondered, standing up.  The knock came again, and he glanced at me. “Ain't got no neighbors for five miles."
 
Whoever was outside knocked a third time, and the fur on my back began to stand up.  Fisher seemed a little freaked out too as he went to the closet and got out an old bedsheet and threw it over my cage.
 
“Sorry, Sparkles," he whispered, “but I don't want the police to know you're here."
 
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Fisher was afraid, but I wasn't sure if it was good news for me or not.  The knock came again, even louder this time.
 
“All right, all right, I'm coming!" Fisher yelled, heading for the door.  I watched through a gap in the sheet as he reached out to unlock it. “Just calm the—"
 
He didn't get to finish his sentence, because the door imploded, launching splinters in every direction.  Fisher was thrown onto his back, and I struggled to see better through the bedsheet.  Something was standing in the doorway, but I couldn't see it.
 
“What the—" Fisher sputtered, dragging himself backwards as fast as he could. “No way, no way!"
 
The thing on the porch followed him inside.  Its feet thudded loudly with every step, meaning it was either really strong, or really heavy.  Judging by what it had done to the door, I was guessing it was both.  A low menacing growl filled the air.
 
“Sparkles, help me!" Fisher screamed, finally getting to his feet and running to my cage.  He yanked the sheet off, and I got my first look at what had invaded his house.
 
And if I'd been wearing any, I probably would have wet my pants.
 
The thing stood on two legs, but was covered in dark gray fur.  It had a wolf's head, and a tail was coming out of its back, but it was standing like a person.  And it was wearing clothes, too.  Faded blue jeans and a red t-shirt.  Fisher was trying desperately to undo the lock on my cage, but it didn't matter.  Even if he'd opened the door, I was too shocked to move.  I could only stand and watch as the wolfman grabbed Fisher by the neck and spun him around to face it.
 
“Oh dear Lord," he whimpered as the thing lifted him up into the air. “Oh dear Lord above in Heaven.  Sparkles, hel—"
 
His cry for help was cut off when the wolfman lunged at him, biting into his neck.  The scream turned into a stomach turning gurgle, but that didn't last long either.  Taking one of his arms in both hands, the wolfman barely had to tug on them to tear Fisher apart.  Blood sprayed everywhere, and I would have closed my eyes if my brain hadn't already short circuited.  The wolfman threw Fisher's pieces away, and then turned to me.  Blood dripped from its teeth and claws, and matted his fur, giving it an even more demonic look than before.
 
Oh my holy crap, I thought, backing up into the bars of my cage.  That thing had killed Fisher, and now it was going to kill me.  What in the world even was it?  I'd always thought werewolves that stood on two legs only existed in the movies.  Apparently, I was mistaken…
 
The wolfman took a deep breath when it saw me, and then began to shrink.  In a matter of seconds, it was four inches shorter, and its fur was retreating into its skin.  Gray hair covered its head, and its eyes turned from gold to blue.  Dark blue eyes that pierced me straight to my soul.
 
No… freaking… way… I thought.  If my mind hadn't been blown before, it was now.  My common sense tried to tell me it was a trick, that he couldn't possibly be here right now, but I just couldn't deny what my eyes were seeing.
 
“Hold on, Amber," Stark said, kneeling down to unlock my cage. “I'll get you out of there."
 
NEXT TIME: Whoa!  So not only is Stark free, he's a two legged werewolf?  I can't wait to hear his explanation for… just about EVERYTHING?
 

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