Do You Know Me, Human?
You should. I shared a cab with you yesterday. You may have seen me lunching at Le Cirque last week and you've surely noted my name in the financial pages. And yes, it was I who smiled at your daughter across the smoky barroom and made her heart pound so loudly she could hardly think. And did I take her home when she sidled up to me and ran her not-so-innocent fingers down my thigh? You bet.
I am werewolf. Quod Hominem, genus gerulfos. Warwoof, wehrwulf, waerul, varulv,garwall,garoul, warou, loup-garou. Lycanthrope. We have been known by many names over the centuries, and none of them accurate, for we are neither man nor wolf but a breed apart. We have been with you since before the dawn of time.
Oh, I know your world, human. I know it and I love it and I walk at ease within it. One might even say (and who wouldn't?) that I have mastered it. My race has centuries of cunning, skill and ambition invested in a mutually beneficial relationship with yours, and it would disturb me to see all of that lost. Maybe what you are about to learn will prevent the inevitable. Maybe it will hasten it.
It is the custom among our kind to sing aloud the tales of our heroes and to write our secrets down. These pages contain many secrets, and the tales of heroes whose deeds may never be sung aloud. Let their words, then, speak for themselves. Heed them, remember them. And then decide.
... from THE PASSION copyright 1998 by Donna Ball Inc