Creatures of the Night

By Michael Bertolini

There are certain natural phenomena humans were never meant to attempt; like reproducing lycanthropy. A mysterious organization, The Carbonari, hope to use lycanthropy to take over the world. The problem: lycanthropy has never been successful. That is about to change.

Dean Levy and his friends participate in a medical experiment that has gone incredibly... right. But with success often comes failure, as Dean and his friends learn.

The Carbonari don't need the Creatures of the Night anymore.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Bertolini
• Release date: Mar 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301667574

Michael Bertolini

I live in Simsbury, Connecticut where I graduated from Central Connecticut State University with a bachelor's degree in history. I have been writing for years but published my first book, The Cold Tower, in February 2010. My writing appears on various creepypasta websites online and in print. [Many of the published books are available from all major online book sellers as well as my website; all are available on my website or at Amazon.com].

Book preview

CREATURES OF THE NIGHT

Michael J Bertolini

COPYRIGHT 2013 MICHAEL J BERTOLINI

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Prologue

The moon was bright but obscured by the clouds moving over New York City. It was a perfect situation for a discreet meeting. The two investigative reporters from the Washington Post slowly emerged from their rental car at the opening of the alley and, with flashlights in hand, entered the shadows that filled the darkness between buildings. Although they’d both learned a lot over the past few months, both men were nervous.

The lead investigator was a thin man in his forties. He’d traveled around the world, reporting on everything from military activities, terrorist plots, and man-made disasters. He wore a wrinkled suit without a tie, clothes and hair fluttered in the gentle breeze that flowed in the brick canyon.

The other investigator was younger and had hopes of following his partner’s path. His hair was still dark, his clothes better kept, and the glasses he wore were for show since his eyesight was naturally perfect. His clothing remained static against the breeze.

Keep your lights low. A guttural voice called out. The reporters could detect a shadowy figure emerging from behind a dumpster overflowing with Chinese food cartons. The reporters lowered their lights, as requested. The figure was their contact, the man they knew by the moniker Mister E.

We hoped that you’d meet us halfway. The lead investigator said, taking a cautious step closer to Mister E.

I left Connecticut in secret but I don’t dare go to Washington. Mister E said.

From what you’ve told us, we don’t blame you. He took another step forward but Mister E didn’t seem to mind.

I managed to sneak out the final file, Mister E started to stutter, but I fear for my safety. He reached under his jacket and extracted a manila folder that he held out for the investigator to take.

What do you mean? The lead investigator took the folder and noticed Mister E’s hairy forearm. His hands were covered by gloves but the investigator suspected that the mystery man was hiding something. Something related to the secret information gathered.

I had to make copies of the files to avoid suspicion, Mister E’s head dropped, I found out that the security team was reviewing certain video footage. I don’t know if the doctor will dispatch someone to kill me, or…

Or will Washington take care of you?

Exactly, Mister E lifted his head, you’ve seen what I’ve sent you. You may have been weary at first but there should be no doubt.

Do you really expect us to believe everything you say? The other investigator spoke up.

Quiet! The lead investigator turned to his companion.

No; this guy won’t even give us his name, the younger investigator approached Mister E, journalistic integrity prevents us from revealing your identity.

My name is no real secret, Mister E said, if you were real investigators.

Don’t patronize us. The lead investigator coughed.

I was a well-known animal researcher until I disappeared without a trace, Mister E whispered, I haven’t seen my wife or children in months.

You had that TV show, the younger investigator’s eyes opened wide, but your death was documented.

It was faked, Mister E looked at the younger man, that shouldn’t be a real surprise.

You’ve hinted at a government conspiracy, the lead investigator cleared his throat, is the smoking-gun in this folder? He held up the folder in the weak light.

The military is going to be replaced with genetically altered humans, Mister E said, human DNA manipulated and mixed with animal DNA of the worst variety.

The worst? The younger man frowned and pulled a notebook out of his pocket. He deciphered the scribbles inside. I must admit: wolves, bears, hyena, tigers, and sharks are nasty; but geckoes, tarantulas, manta rays, and eagles aren’t very ferocious.

It’s a matter of perspective, Mister E bowed his head, and a matter of assumption.

Assumption?

Yes, you… Mister E’s voice faded away when another car entered the alley and shone its headlights at the three men. The lead investigator got a clear view of Mister E’s face; he was covered in black hair and his nose was triangular, but his green eyes reflected the light with gleams of hatred. Are they friends of yours?

No- The lead investigator said before he was cutoff by the bang of gunfire. The young investigator, who had turned to face the new car, looked down at his chest. His notebook was a scattering of shredded paper and his white shirt was turning red. He collapsed to the pavement a second later as death took him.

Shit! Mister E spun and ran deeper into the alley as another bullet cut through the air. The lead investigator felt a burning sensation in his leg as his kneecap was shattered. Another bullet whizzed past his head but he was already falling, dragged down by his own body weight.

You missed! The driver, dressed in a clean suit a wearing black glasses to hide his eyes, said to the passenger. The passenger was dressed similarly and looked identical to the driver.

That’s only because you shot his leg out first. The passenger spat. He held his gun at his side, waiting for the driver to issue orders.

We’re not supposed to kill him until after. The driver said.

Are you sure that I can’t kill him now? The passenger asked.

When the time comes, the driver smiled, I’ll let you pull the trigger.

Sounds good to me! The two men stood in front of the lead investigator. The investigator, with at least a decade on the two assassins, looked up at the blank expressions watching him.

Who are you? The investigator asked.

We’re asking the questions. The passenger replied.

Who’ve you told about your investigation? The driver asked.

Did you come from Connecticut, Washington, or…Nevada?

You ask too many questions, the passenger pressed the hot barrel of his gun against the investigator’s head, answer the man’s question. The investigator looked at the dead body of his partner, knowing that he’d join him soon.

The paper’s editor knows, the investigator gulped, he had to know some of the details.

How much does he know? The driver pointed his own gun at the investigator.

Nothing important; he just knows that we were investigating a story about a government black-project.

Is that all?

Yes; don’t kill the man, the investigator started to sweat, he has three small kids.

We don’t care about that shit.

Please.

If he knows little, he’ll be allowed to live. The passenger said. The driver reached down and picked the folder off the ground. He produced a lighter from his pocket and turned the folder into ash with a burst of fire.

Did Mister E tell you anything else? The driver asked.

How do you know the name he used?

Answer me!

No, he gulped again, nothing.

That’s good to know. The driver nodded. The passenger smiled and pulled the trigger, ending the investigator’s long life.

We have to get the traitor. The driver said as the investigator’s blood splashed on his legs.

He won’t get far, the passenger holstered his gun, he’s a sprinter, not a runner. He smiled and started running down the alley. The driver watched the passenger accelerate as he ran, his feet barely touching the ground.

Mister E hid behind an AC unit to catch his breath. He’d managed to reach the top of an apartment building but he couldn’t go any further until his heart stopped pounding. The gravel beneath him provided a comfort he couldn’t explain as thoughts of his wife and child filled his mind. He regretted not visiting them, even if it only meant watching from a distance.

He heard the