Page 51 of A Cock and Bull Story
I have but one claw—but beware.
In this case, I have but many kitchen knives, but beware.
“Well,” I prompt, “you must have some inkling of what he wants.”
“He's looking for human women,” the shifter finally confesses.
“Human women, for what?” Arthur wonders.
From behind me, the seven-legged freak glares at Arthur.
“I'm not talking to you, scum.”
Before I can think of my reaction, I kick the shifter bound in tape—again.
“Don't talk to him that way!” I growl. “He's not less than you because he's some slimy little frog!”
“Toad,” Arthur corrects. “I'm ahorny toad.”
“Er, right. Sorry. He's not less than you because he’s a pheromone riddled toad!” I shout.
“No, no, I’m ‘horny’ because of the bumps on my—” Arthur attempts, but Jack shushes him.
Which is probably a good thing because I’m on a roll.
“Answer the question!” I snap for what feels like the hundredth time. “Why is your boss looking for human women?”
For a dude bound in duct tape, he manages to give me a sinister as fuck smile. Suddenly, I feel like the tables have been turned.
A feeling of premonition creeps over me when he says, “To experiment on.”
Motherfucker.
I definitely need a flamethrower.
Tertiary are experimenting on humans?
My mind races as I try to find an explanation as to why, and I can see that Arthur, Theo and Jack are doing the same thing. I turn to the Tertiary to ask him why—but I'm not given the chance.
Against his better judgment, the Tersh shifted into his tarantula form.
Belle lets out an ear-piercing scream. The foolish man cannot move as the fine hairs of his body are caught up in the duct tape. He looks like a spider football. Bellestillhasn't quit screaming and she runs over and kicks it—ironically—like it’s a football.
It bounces against the wall and comes launching back towards her. She jumps out of the way, and it comes towards me. Without thinking, I do the same thing that she did and kick. It goes to Jack—who kicks to Arthur.
Who kicks it to Leo.
Who kicks it back towards Belle.
Who throws a knife at it.
The blade hits the tarantula dead center, piercing it from one end to the other—I don't know if this is purely by luck, or she's just that skilled—either way, I don't ever plan to piss her off.
The Tertiary starts twitching before slowly ceasing to move. Its body instantly stiffens into rigor mortis and starts blackening, as if mold is creeping upon it.
“What's happening?” Belle whispers, her face deathly pale.
“This is what happens to shifters when we die—rigor mortis sets in immediately, and then, a petrification process begins. Shortly afterwards, the body hardens to the point of rock. Then, it's like ashes, and it crumbles away. There's never any trace left of the shifter. This is why my species has survived so long—because shifters do not leave behind any trace of them,” I explain gently.
