Most fights with werewolves are comparable to fighting two vicious stray dogs. As long as you keep moving, the animal’s temperament stalls. It''s an insatiable push to bite. Because most canines want to pounce first and bite second. They’re not being playful, but the extra few seconds could give you a fighting chance.


    Lauren collapsed between two cars by the time I arrived. The wolf had taken an extra moment when the first alarm sounded, and it howled in dismay before turning on me. I had sprinted most of the way and used my zap ring to land a punch as it snarled and launched its first attack.


    Tony was the first to arrive as backup, and upon arrival, the werewolf lashed out with increased ferocity. Tony used his own ring, but the wolf scrambled into the street and then used its strength to propel itself into a tree.


    Tony drew a small gun and fired. The bullet scratched its arm as it leaped across the parking lot and landed on the roof. It scampered the length of the apartment. Tony fired as people dove to the ground and caused serious commotion in the different apartments. The wolf came at us and Tony nailed it straight in the chest. It howled and then collapsed. I recognized the sweater vest as he returned to his human form.  It had been Melvin. The guy had Lauren and I and met in the mall.


    The last thing the town needs is the corpse of a human-wolf hybrid.


    “People are coming,” Tony snapped. We fled up the street as multiple doors opened to assess the situation, and it didn’t take long before there the police officers arrived on the scene, followed by an ambulance and a concerned crowd.


    Pop had pulled the van beside the hotel, and Dad heaved open the door, allowing Tony and I to climb inside.


    “We took out the wolf,” Tony gasped, he took off his coat and stashed the gun beneath the seat. “There were too many people so we couldn’t deal with the body.”


    “The bullets are untraceable,” Pop said.


    “But they are silver,” Dad said. “That’s going to fuel speculation.”


    “Well, let''s get out of here,” Pop said, “I think the wizard can take care of things from here.”


    Pop pulled out onto the street and headed away from the apartment complex and the crime scene. Pop stopped at each corner and let the people move, and some he even allowed to jaywalk. Several businesses were closed, and some workers looked eager to go home for the night.


    “The wizard looked young,” Mom said, “I wonder if he was undercover on campus.”


    Pop chuckled and fidgeted in his seat. “Unlikely.”


    “Not really,” Dad said, “It’s a demographic with a high turnover. They may have set him up to look into things under the radar.”


    “It’s better than the alternative,” Mom said, “It makes them look like cowards.”


    Mom’s comment stung and we cleared the next block in silence. I considered the boy in the red jacket and the blue-haired girl. They seemed like an odd pair, but they were coordinated and had a plan, which had gone horribly wrong.


    “What about that giant pumpkin?” I asked.


    Dad pulled off his fedora. “It’s a problem, but it''s not one we’re going to worry about. A wizard in play seriously changes things.”


    “We’re not prepared to take on that kind of magic,” Pop said, “I’ve tried, but I’m afraid there are too many flaws that make it difficult to make things worthwhile.”


    I’m afraid, “That brings something else to mind.” My hands shook, my shoulder popped, and I sounded slightly exasperated when the words came to my mouth.


    Pop glanced at me through the mirror while Tony, Mom, and Dad glanced in my direction. We reached a movie theater and the crowd had intensified, making any traffic movement come to a complete stop.


    “We didn''t consider the effect fear energy has on a magical creature,” I said. I thought about Gwen, but I wasn’t quite ready to bring that part up, but the question lingered.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    “It''s not a full moon,” I continued. “But we had a werewolf transformation. Pop, it is possible that if a young man recently bitted and feeling attracted to a girl. What would happen if hormones mixed with infatuation became inflated with a heavy dose of highly concentrated fear?”


    “I think that could be enough to spark a werewolf transformation?”


    “It would be irregular, but probably,” Pop admitted. “Grandma often talks about romance and how it''s popularized by the moonlight walks. If there are the circumstances you’ve described, and if he’s not sure of himself. I bet the mix of responses would be an accelerant to spark a transformation.”


    “I think Suzy Sourblood is trying to start the monster apocalypse,” I said. “We''ve had events that have sparked fear, and now we have just enough fear to coax monsters out of hiding.”


    Mom''s eyes widened. “She wants to make a mess. She wants to distract everyone, keep everyone guessing, and fight each other.”


    Minute by minute, as more people give in, someone will notice. “They''ll get pictures and video,” Dad added. “The Internet will blow up. News stations will be asking questions. People will be investigating. She wants to bring M.A.G.E right into the spotlight.”


    I steadied myself on the seat in front of me. “If monsters get exposed, they’ll fight back, and I bet some of them might try to take over.”


    “That would put us in the line of fire. So what do we do?” Tony asked. “Do we?”


    Tony''s voice hung in the air as Dad bellowed in surprise and swerved to avoid a large, colossal ball covered in a thick, milky white substance that looked like creamy snow. The object imprinted itself on my mind as Pop hit the gas and swerved to avoid a second and then a third projectile, along with debris that blanked several feet in every direction with dirt, dust, and bits of rock. The van jerked to the side as a new projectile arched through the air. This one appeared to one side cracking and dropping small chunks, with a thick brown interior.


    “What was that?” Tony yelled.


    That hit the brakes, filling the car with smoke and the stench of burnt rubber. We sat feet from an intersection inches away from having a good chunk of the van crunched by a large round ball. The color was vibrant, and I noticed a small chunk missing from where it had impacted the street. Pop adjusted the headlights, and I felt that I recognized the thick brown substance stuffed inside.


    Is that chocolate?


    “Hang on!” Pop shifted into reverse and sped to the corner. I adjusted myself, but then felt my body jerk forward as Pop slammed on the brakes as vines crept across the road. They moved like snakes and then arched up like cobras before they snapped across the distance, shattering windows and leaving large cracks that spread across the fa?ade of the nearby brick buildings.


    “Over there!’ Mom said.


    Through the window, near the Cow Tail restaurant. There was the large Jack-O-Lantern exerting its strength against an equally massive milkshake cup with meaty arms and thick, defined legs that dung into the ground, and it had secured its position like a sumo wrestler. The vines arched up and struck at the cup’s body, and with each movement, the milkshake fired a punch and knocked the vine to the ground as if it had been sheared off by a gardener.


    “The pumpkin has been eating cars,” Dad said. “How?”


    “That''s the wizard magic,” Pop exclaimed. “He''s fighting back.”


    “Let''s hope it ends well,” Dad said, “can we move, or do we need to abandon the van?”


    “We’re good,” Pop said.


    The milkshake shifted its weight and I watched the straw dance back and forth before launching a volley of colored projectiles several impacted the pumpkin’s surface, while a few flew wild.


    “Go!” Dad yelled.


    Pop hit the gas, and the van lurched upward, and we hit the curb, but we stayed together and were able to head down the street.


    What effect does fear have on magical creatures? My heart was almost ready to leap out of my chest, and I recoiled in my seat and the question resurfaced. Gwen’s voice carried as though she was standing in an echo chamber, while at the same time feeling like a whisper being two inches from my ear. Her voice sounded airy and doll-like the more I thought about it.


    What effect does fear have on magical creatures?


    “We better take some back roads,” Dad insisted. “I don''t care if we have to go to a mountain to get off the main roads.”


    What effect does fear have on magical creatures? The girl''s question repeated. My brain edited it. But I suddenly realized what I hadn''t picked up on.


    Magical creatures have strengths and abilities, but they are self-aware creatures. They do get afraid. Everyone is scared of something, and they react differently.


    “He wasn’t being territorial,” I muttered. Allowing my recognition of this show as pieces began to fit together.


    “Who?” Tony asked.


    “The Minotaur?” I exclaimed. “We thought he didn’t move because it was unfamiliar territory. That is true, I think we overlooked something that connects that encounter to all of this. Dad, didn''t you say the Minotaur went out to the Morris farm a few times before we encountered him.”


    “He did three of four times I think,” Dad confirmed. “Why are we talking about him?”


    “Why would you go somewhere multiple times and not take or do anything?” I questioned. “I think the Minotaur, while posing as a mailman, was affected by early efforts to collect fear, but he probably didn''t realize what it was at the time.”


    “That does fit,” Pop said, “Something didn’t sit right with me about that encounter.”


    “And consider, we have a wizard here at the park.” I said, “M.A.G.E probably assumed what we did and that’s why Frankie is there to stir up trouble.”


    “Suzy never came because she never intended to,” Mom said.


    “Right,” I finished, “I think something is going on at the Morris family farm.”