Misfits
Part Five
Shiloh looked down and noticed the elongated fingers with their deadly porcelain colored tips. The change happened so fast it was nearly seamless. The wig would be ruined. That was the worst part. Good wigs were expensive and they were already out of shops in town to steal them from where they wouldn’t both be recognized as shoplifters. Shiloh reached up anyway, hoping that it was only her hands that had shifted. Sometimes it was that way.
No luck of course. The horns had shot right through the weave of the wig.
Wendy wasn’t angry or trying to feign concern. Wendy was scared, shocked, and then irritated, all in that order.
“Well I guess it’s just a snap of the fingers for you now huh? I know you’re hungry but can we at least get him in the van before you start yanking him apart?”
Silence was working lately, but this wasn’t silence, and it wasn’t hunger either. Shiloh grabbed the corpse by the arm that was still attached and pulled it into the van, careful to lean down and retrieve the pumps that had been stretched and pushed to the sides by newly cloven hooves.
Wendy got the van started and was already on the move. Shiloh thought about changing back to ease tempers but eating was so much easier with sharper teeth. Plus, Shiloh wanted to say things that would just be easier with Wendy on edge.
The already torn off arm was carefully removed from the rest of the body. Shiloh used those porcelain colored, razor sharp claws to cut away at the arm pit and shoulder of the shift followed by the cuff. Manners were important always. Shiloh used the shirt material as a bib to at least save a favored tank top from unfortunate stains before sinking rows of spade teeth into bare, uncooked bicep. The rest of the corpse would be dressed and butchered, pieces and parts preserved, organs most of all carved up and carefully sealed before being frozen for later.
Now though, now, there was the arm and the fresh, raw meat to be had. Wendy would be quiet for a few minutes. There would be time to let the usual constant thrum of the hunger abate. A moment of grace had over the sounds of tearing flesh and the sucking at vital fluids.
“We’re coming up on street lights, kiddo. You should change back just in case.”