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A musky smell permeated the room as two intruders walked softly into the
apartment. Left beside the doorway, a thermos of liquid nitrogen sits
wreathed in mist, a chisel and hammer next to it to attest to the method of
breaking in. Professor Henry Stanton clutched his silenced pistol tightly in his hand as they walked, poised to shoot. Dr. Johannes Myer walked more slowly behind him, observing a hollow crystal pendulum with a single drop of singed blood inside it. The pendulum was gently tugging Dr. Myer deeper in the room. He looked up to see the direction it was prompting, which was across the room to a closed door. As they approached the door, the musk grew more pungent, apparently emanating from within. They also became aware of a faint but growing cacophony of vocalizations: moans, grunts, growls and snarls culminating in two voices eerily howling behind the door. Stanton was visibly shaken at the final sound that punctuated whatever was occurring behind the door. Myer stared daggers at him, and motioned for him to open the door. The professor slowly gripped the doorknob with his free hand and eased it open. The smell of sweat, hormones, and other fluids was overpowering, and he blinked for a moment bleary-eyed before he managed to shake it off and gaze upon his quarry. Stanton had seen many unusual things in his expeditions for the Thothmes Society. Some of his colleagues had likened him not undeservedly to the fictitious Indiana Jones. Indeed, he had even been the one to make the dangerous trek to Anastasia's tomb. Nothing, however, had prepared him for this sight; not the manuscripts, nor the carvings, nor the recovered remains. At first glance, all he saw was a tangled mess of hair, a long mane of strawberry blonde mingled in a heap with another of dark ringlets. However, as his targets noticed him, they pulled apart and he got a better view. The creatures were noticeably humanoid and feminine, their forms stooped slightly, but lithely curved and powerfully muscled, tufts of tangled, coarse fur barely preserving modesty about their loins. They stood on ditigrade feet, their hands twisted and pawlike, bearing fierce talons. He recognized their faces, but only barely, as their eyebrows had grown wild and bushy and their lips had darkened and pulled back to reveal yellowed fangs. He noted that the witch apparently still had her nose ring. If the two creatures were capable of reason at all, it seemed that the passion of the act they were committing had robbed them of it. They regarded him much like wolves guarding their territory, snarling and barking. The witch lunged at him with a cry, and he unloaded his entire magazine into her chest before she dropped. Hastily reloading, he dodged a swipe from the ancient warrior woman before the dark-furred werewolf slung her bleeding mate over her shoulder and bowled his companion over as she beat a hasty escape. Stanton finished reloading and fired a wild shot at them, but they were already too far gone. "Damn. Lost them again! What do we do?" "We'll do what I suggested, Stanton. We'll plan and be prepared for once. Now get some of the blood the witch shed. I'll start bribing the papers to cover this up..." Anastasia and Natalia awoke in the morning where the night's escape had taken them: In the woods along the Hudson just off the highway. They blinked muzzily as dawn crept over their unclad forms, and looked up at the figure that overshadowed them. It was a short, waifish looking woman, almost just a girl. She was dressed in a rather simple white skirt, t-shirt, black vest and boots. Wild, tangled tresses of auburn hue cascaded down from her head past her knees, with feathers, charms and herbs worked into them. Natalia looked confused, but Anastasia was agape as the woman tossed two sets of clothing at them. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything. Get dressed. I didn't live this long to let the secret of the Moon-Blessed Sisterhood fall into the hands of the Thothmes Society..."
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3/19/2001 1:05:02 PM
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