Title: Loup Garou XVI - Poetic Justice
Author: Lycanthrophile (lycanthrophile@imadethis.org)
Fandom: The X-Files
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: All characters in this story are copywrited to
me.
Rating: NC17 for violence
Summary: A man woos Jess Leahs with horrifying results.
Word Count: 1,597
Notes: This story is meant to fit into the history of the
other Loup Garou stories. Since there are no X-File
characters in it, I opt only to have it on my webpage.
Check with me before archiving elsewhere.
Archive: Please inform me
Frank Kiote sat by the swimming pool of the hotel, eying
his next target. The woman, swimming laps in the clear blue
water, was a striking beauty, Or she could be if she took
the time and effort - dark, short hair, almost black eyes,
extremely fair skin, and a short but thin body that
advertised a healthy lifestyle. Nothing at all like his
last date.
Frank shook his head at the memory. The tall, leggy blonde,
([What was her name?]) had been too easy a conquest. A few
drinks, some sweet nothings in her delicate ear, and the
bimbo had been practically throwing herself at him. He
enjoyed the pursuit of his prey almost as much as the
ecstasy of the capture. Although it had been fun when Amy
([Yeah, that's her name,]) finally realized that it wasn't
just sex he was after, just as all women realized when it
was too late.
Frank returned his attention to the pool. The woman had
pulled herself out of the water and began toweling herself
off. His eyes slid over the form in a black one piece
bathing suit that revealed everything, yet showed nothing.
She walked past him to pick up her room key on the table
next to his smiling slightly, her eyes sliding over his
body. Women tended to find his sandy blonde hair and well
muscled body irresistible, and obviously this one was no
exception. "Gotcha," he said when she was out of hearing.
He didn't know her name yet, and probably would forget it
by this weekend, but that was irrelevant. He would have her
and some fun, soon enough.
The next time Frank spotted the woman, she was sitting
outside alone on the bench. Her nose was buried in an Anne
Rice novel, oblivious to the world around her. Frank sat
down on the bench on the other side of the path, on a
slight diagonal. He picked up the the newspaper he had
brought along and began to 'read' it, watching her over the
edge of the page. They both sat there for several minutes,
until the alarm on the woman's digital watch went off. She
looked up from under long, silky eyelashes to see if he was
watching. Shutting off the offending beeping, she looked at
the time, picked up her purse and left, leaving her book
behind.
[Damn! This is going to be harder than I thought.] At this
point in his pursuits, Frank had at least struck up a
conversation. Usually he had the woman's name and phone
number by now. Patience was not one of his virtues. Frank
had always seen himself as the word his last name sounded
like, the coyote, the trickster. He also saw himself as a
sly carnivore who took pleasure in wooing, winning, and
then killing his lovers. But once he had them, there was no
challenge anymore. Frank got tired quickly of his new
plaything, and since he never liked to share as a child,
why not kill and be done with it. It saved him the trouble
of having to deal with those messy emotional breakups.
Besides, there was something fascinating about feeling the
life ebb from such a beautiful body... .
He looked at where she had been sitting. [Hmm. She left her
book behind.] Frank got up and sat on the other bench. He
picked up the dog eared copy of The Queen of the Damned.
[What do we have here?] On the inside cover was her name
scrawled in loose handwriting. [Jessica Leahs,] he read.
[What a lovely name. I'll just turn this in at the front
desk with a note, and I bet she calls me within a day.]
Jessica was obviously a sly little flirt. He had seen the
look she had given him before leaving, shyness overcoming
her desire. She hadn't forgotten her book, but had left it
on purpose for him to find. [We'll meet soon, my beauty.]
"Thank you for returning my book," the soft alto voice
said. "I was sure I had lost it for good."
Frank gave the woman across the table for two his most
winning smile. "Miss Leahs, it was a pleasure to do so."
"Please, call me Jess. Whenever I hear Miss Leahs, I look
around for my mother."
She blushed a bit and bent her head demurely, brown eyes
peering through a thick curtain of lashes. Frank was
certain that she wasn't wearing mascara, that her lashes
were naturally long. "I will, but only if you call me
Frank."
They were having dinner together in the hotel restaurant.
They talked about everything and nothing as people tend to
do on a first date. Frank found himself itching to hurry
things along to what could only be their natural
conclusion. He bit his tongue three separate times,
stopping himself from suggesting they go upstairs. [Play it
slow,] he reminded himself. [Act the perfect gentleman and
she'll be eating out of your hand.]
Despite his caution, Jess was looking increasingly nervous.
Her eyes would look into his and then dart away like a
restless sparrow's. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go," she
said nervously.
"Why?" Frank asked. "Am I scaring you off?"
"Yes! No! I mean...," she trailed off. "My last
relationship left me pretty hurt. I met someone, would have
followed him to the ends of the earth, and he just up and
left me." Her dark eyes connected for his for the first
time the whole evening. "I'm not sure I can handle the idea
of being vulnerable like that yet."
[Damaged goods,] Frank thought. That made it so much easier
for him. Women who were hurting, and knew it, tended to
fall for his brand of seduction a lot easier. [Let her
think she's in control.] "Listen, I want to get to know you
better before we plan any trips to the ends of the earth.
You set the pace."
"Okay." Jess still looked uncertain, but she didn't bolt
from the table, yet.
Frank decided it was time to reel her in. "Listen, why
don't we go up to my room. We can talk there without any
distractions. And whatever happens, well, it happens."
Jess studied him for a moment, thinking with lips pursed
slightly. "I think I'd like that," she said softly.
Frank was pleased with himself. After three hours of the
most gentle seduction he had ever waged, he had managed to
get Jess undressed and into the bed. His hunger was rising,
with each kiss inflaming it further.
He pulled his body away from hers slightly, testing her.
Jess blindly squirmed forward a bit, searching. Frank
smiled to himself. [It's time.] "Jessica," he whispered in
her ear. "I know the last man you were with treated you
badly. I want to make up for that. Let me make love to
you."
Jess pulled away from him suddenly. Frank watched as she
got out of the bed and walked to the window. Pulling the
curtain aside, she stood in a rectangle of spilled
moonlight, her back facing him. "Before we do this, there
is something you should know." Jess's voice had taken on a
soft growl that aroused Frank even more.
"What is it?" Frank asked softly. [Does her hair look
longer? No, it's a trick of the full moon's light,] he
thought, staring at her.
Jess's voice changed from rough silk to diamond ice. "Amy
Schroeder was my friend. And," she said, turning to face
Frank. "A mere coyote is no match for a werewolf."
Frank watched in horror as his prey Changed. Fur erupted
from every follicle of her body. The snout pushed out,
fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Pointed ears swept flat
against a canine skull as she growled and leapt. In that
moment, Frank Kiote realized that he had not been stalking
Jessica Leahs, she had been stalking him.
The beast landed square on Frank's chest, knocking the wind
from him. She used one paw to slap his mouth shut, making
him bite his tongue. As he tasted the metallic tang of
blood, the other paw's talons unsheathed even further and
traced a line from his abdomen to his groin, leaving a long
red welt. The werewolf's grinning face was the last thing
he saw before the wave of pain radiating from between his
legs caused him to pass out.
Jess, with her luggage beside her, sat reading the paper in
the lobby of the hotel the next morning. She was listening
to the two desk clerks discuss the discovery made early
this morning.
"Did you hear him raving as the paramedics bring him out?"
said the first clerk.
"Yeah," the second one replied. "All about werewolves and
vengeance, screaming about how he killed so many women."
"What a psycho. I mean, imagine it. Committing all those
murders and then castrating yourself out of guilt."
"He was one *sick* puppy."
["Sick puppy" doesn't even begin to cover it,] Jess
thought, smiling grimly behind the paper. The butcher knife
that had been found had only Frank's blood and prints on
it. She had made certain of it. The police had given her a
call as a matter of routine duty, but did not attach any
credence to Frank's wild ranting about her. Jess sighed and
waited patiently for her cab to arrive. She was going home
and was satisfied with the outcome, but not truly happy. No
matter what she did to Frank Kiote, Amy would still be
dead. But she could leave with a clean conscience.
Justice had been served.
The End
