George Washington Werewolf (12 page)

“You
love
me?”

“I do, Nelle. I truly do… So let me see those titties of yours again!” he said. And he reached over and tore open her blouse. “Yes sir, the best tits in the Continental Army! And the best
quim
as well! Come Nelle,” he smiled to himself, “I think it’s time
me
and
them
got reacquainted…”

The mere
thought
of Nelle Watson gave him a splitting headache, and Colonel Aaron Burr was in an even worse mood than usual when some barefoot private accosted him.

“Colonel Burr?”

“What is it, Private? And this better be good, because you look suspiciously like a deserter to me.”

“
Me?
No sir, I’m no deserter, sir!”

“Then what is it?”

“Forgive me sir, but I heard from the men that you were interested in information.”

“Information?”

“Regarding ‘The Massacre’, sir.”

Burr’s eyes lit up.

“What is your name, Private?”

“Private Solomon Bundy, sir!”

“So, Solomon Bundy, do you
know
something?”

“I… overheard something, sir. Something that I shouldn’t have… overheard I mean.”

“Out with it…”

“But…”

“What is it now, Private? You are taxing my patience…”

“I was wondering, sir, in exchange for, you know, the information if you would be so kind as to… you know, get me a nice pair o’ boots, sir? As you can see I don’t
have
any…”

Burr shot a cursory glance at the man’s feet.

“
Pretiosum quod utile
…”

“Sir?”

Aaron Burr let out a sigh.

“
What is useful is valuable
…”

“Yes sir.”

“So
out
with it! I don’t have all day!”

“Yes sir! A week or two ago, I can’t remember which, I went up to General Washington’s tent to, you know, ask him about the boots, to see if…”

“More with the
boots!
” Burr drew his pistol from its holster. “If I hear one more word about your
boots
, Private…”

“Yes sir…”

“
So
…”

“I’m… I’m very nervous, sir. I… I forgot what I was going to…”

“Oh for goodness sake!” And Burr pointed his pistol at the Private’s forehead.

“Oh, I remember
now
, sir! It was the General and Alexander Hamilton! I was outside the tent…”

“Washington’s tent?”

“Yes sir.”

“And
Hamilton
was there?”

“Yes sir!”

“And I suppose you couldn’t help but overhear…”

“No sir. I mean,
yes
sir. I mean…”

“Spit it out, Private! What did they
say?
”

“Washington’s new house…”

“The Musgrave Farm? Everyone knows
that
.” And Burr cocked the hammer of his pistol.

“Yes sir, but Hamilton is going there
tonight!
”

“Tonight?”

“An hour before the full moon, sir. Before it rises.”

“What is he doing
that
for?”

“To lock the basement door.”

“
What?
”

“And in the morning he’s supposed to come back and
unlock
it. Hamilton, that is.”

“What are you talking about? This makes no…”

“There’s something strange in the basement, Colonel sir…”

And this caught Burr’s attention.

“
Strange?
How so?”

“The General, he had this big iron cage brought down there, to the basement.”

“
Iron cage?
” Burr took a step back. “Are you
sure
about this, Private?”

“Yes sir, absolutely sir!”

“And you say Hamilton is going there
tonight
, an hour before the full moon?”

“To lock the basement door, sir.”

There was a long pause as Aaron Burr’s mind raced. And then almost as an afterthought he noticed that Private Bundy was still there.

“Well, Bundy, it looks like you got your wish.” Burr glanced around and hailed the first officer he saw. “Captain…”

“Captain Ferguson, sir.”

“Captain Ferguson, I’d like you to take this man here and find him a nice new pair of boots.”

“Colonel?”

“Is my order unclear, Captain?’

“Um, no sir!”

“Good. Because if I see this man later today without new boots I will make
him
a Captain and
you
a Private! Is that clear?”

“Yes sir!”

The Captain stood there as if in limbo.

“Well, go on then! Run along!”

“Yes sir!”

“Thank you sir!” said Private Bundy, already imagining a pair of brand new boots cradling his sore, callused feet.

The weeks before the full moon were the hardest that George Washington had ever experienced. His head constantly felt as if it would split apart. He was nauseated and dizzy. His every muscle and limb ached unbearably, and his stomach felt as if a burning hot cinder had been placed inside. And at night during the little sleep he was able to get he had explicit nightmares of blood and murder. And now he could barely contain himself as he waited for Alexander Hamilton to arrive at the Musgrave farmhouse. An hour before the full moon’s rise, his order had been given, which meant seven o’clock. But the General found himself obsessively checking his pocket watch every few minutes from six-thirty on. There was a profound sense of the
unreal
in that cold, windowless stone basement. After all, here he was, standing in the dark inside an iron cage, waiting to… to
change
. He still found it nearly impossible to believe, especially since his wounds had practically healed by now, not even leaving any scars. But he had seen it with his own eyes; he had felt its teeth pierce his flesh. Washington shuddered, and then he heard himself laugh as he imagined what the Continental Congress would think. Surely if they saw him as a werewolf they would give him anything he wanted!

And then he heard the door upstairs, the footsteps across the wooden floor, the sound of the padlock locked tight. But he waited until he heard Hamilton leave before he removed his clothing. Then he locked the cage door and placed the key in his waistcoat pocket, and then he folded his clothes gently and placed them on the floor in the far corner. And now all that was left was to wait for the full moon. Another hour. He wanted to make sure that Hamilton was well away by the time it happened.

At 8pm the clock upstairs began to chime, loud peeling bells like in a church. But before the clock struck four George Washington felt the change coming on. At first his body was covered with sweat, then what felt like needles piercing his skin all the way to his face and into his eyes. Then he started tearing at his own flesh, as if to rip out the pain that was growing more intense with every second. A sharp cracking sound as he felt his spine moving, shifting its position within his back. His arms and legs began to distort as well, the muscles, the bones expanding, mutating into new and terrible shapes. And his eyes became inflamed, burning into his head, so hot as if they’d come out the other side. And at this, Washington’s mind was no longer his own but had become that of a beast. He was unaware of the fur that sprang out and covered his skin, of the hump on his back, of his teeth becoming fangs, of his fingernails becoming claws. All this happened in the mind of the werewolf, and when the transformation was complete all it wanted was to be free. The monster clutched the bars, it tried to rip them out, but the cage was sound. Washington’s instructions to the ironsmith had been specific. And unable to escape, the beast looked upwards towards the sky, where the moon was beyond this ceiling, these walls, and it opened its mouth and howled like a wolf, but with the indescribable pain and unutterable sadness of a man trapped inside.

The house was dark when Aaron Burr arrived. And after a brief search he found the door to the basement. Another padlock. No matter. His pistol was drawn and fired, the lock blasted apart. Opening the door he saw the darkness that lie in wait, so he lit a lantern and held this in his hand as he walked downstairs.

The room had a musty smell, of mildew and damp, but something else—a kind of musky, cloying, animal scent. When he came to the foot of the stairs he took another step onto a dirt floor. It was soft, and for a moment he smelled the earth as well, but then that strong animal smell again as he took another step and saw the cage. At first it seemed empty, but then he heard a low growl getting louder. And as he took another step he heard a terrible scream and into the light appeared a beast so foul, so repugnant, so startling that Aaron Burr stepped backwards, lost his footing, and tumbled to the floor. And from the ground he heard the rattling of the bars, as if any minute the monster would break through. Burr’s hand shook uncontrollably as he reached for the lantern, all the while the screams and growls grew more desperate. But a moment later the lantern was relit and Burr looked back at the cage. The beast’s eyes glowed red in the dim light, and when they caught his gaze he felt that his heart might indeed burst from his ribcage. But after a few minutes the beast seemed to calm down, and it retreated once again into the shadows. And then Aaron Burr’s mind began to piece it together.

Von Steuben had a cage just like this at his hut. And then came ‘The Massacre’. They thought it was a wolf.

“They were almost right,” he said out loud. “So the
Baron
killed those men… which means that he also attacked someone else, someone who he
bit
but who didn’t die…”

He stood up now and took a step closer to the cage.

“Someone who becomes a monster when the moon is full…”

Holding the lantern, he walked around the cage until the light caught the shadowy image of a uniform in the corner—the uniform of a General in the Continental Army. And at that, the beast rushed the cage again and crashed into the bars, but this time Colonel Burr stood his ground.

“So, General Washington I presume… Forgive me for arriving unannounced… If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, you
smell
.”

He took another step closer.

“So
this
is the big secret! And I can see why.”

Burr scrutinized the beast, trying to discern the slightest bit of George Washington inside, a scintilla of his humanity, but there was nothing. Just a mindless beast before him, a complete and utter savage. He thought it thrilling that such a thing could exist!

“God indeed has a trick or two up his sleeve,” he said.

And he gazed at the monster that had been his General. How powerful it was! How vicious! Surely it could destroy a squad of men, perhaps an entire platoon single-handed. To have a weapon such as this in one’s arsenal would surely make he who possessed it a rather dangerous and formidable person. A person to whom the word “no” would never be spoken. A person to whom a kingdom or an empire would not be out of reach.

“I wonder, General,” he said, “does it
hurt?
When the change takes place?”

He searched the beast’s eyes.

“Well, I suppose I’ll find out…”

And he walked up to the cage, took a deep breath, and boldly stuck out his arm, and immediately the creature attacked. It stuck its claws in like a harpoon and pulled him closer through the bars. And then Aaron Burr felt its fangs dig into his flesh. For a moment he closed his eyes before wresting his arm away from the snapping bloody jaws.

He was speechless now as he stood against the back wall, his bloody arm illuminated by the lantern’s glow. He took several more deep breaths, and then he looked back at the beast.

“We are members of a rare fraternity, General, you and I…
Le Pacte des loups
…”

With that, Colonel Aaron Burr left the house in darkness, the cries of the caged beast replaced with the hoof beats of his horse as he galloped back to Valley Forge.

The first thing George Washington noticed after he opened his eyes was that his headache had gotten worse. The pain shot through his body like a red-hot skewer. But he was still in the cage—that was good. That meant that he hadn’t harmed anyone. But then he noticed the blood on the dirt floor in front of the cage.