Free Travel Bug by David Kempf

them with the help of the very best slayers. My master recommends them most highly.”
    “So be it.”
    Hitchens really wondered why Father Darrow was not thrilled with the excitement of eradicating the problem forever.
    “Do you have some special attachment to these wolves?”
    “We can discuss that later.”
    “I would prefer now.”
    The conversation was cut short by a huge, grey wolf that knocked Hitchens down and ran away quickly. The fellow monks of this strange place were not at all shocked by what they saw. This was more disturbing to him than the wild animal running loose. He shook his head and looked at Darrow.
    “Does this happen often, Father?”
    “It happens more often than you might think; it’s not however what one would call an everyday occurrence.”
    “I see.”
    Father Hitchens ran to the highest window and watched the wolf run like hell. He saw the thing grab a little boy by the throat. There were no spectators to the creature’s blood sport. They had all ran away and hid from the four legged monster.
    “We must go now,” said Father Hitchens.
    “Why?” asked Father Darrow.
    “The final… rites must…”
    “You may serve him but he’s obviously already dead. What difference does it make now?”
    “I must go to him.”
    “So be it.”
    The good priest prayed for the soul of the young boy. He had so much more time to spend on this earth so he could prepare himself for the joys of eternal life with God. All of his potential was destroyed by some ignorant, bloodthirsty beast. Darrow didn’t seem upset at all. It was almost as if death and anarchy were the expected order of things here at the monastery of banned lunatics.
    “How can you not cry?”
    “You know…… we all see very strange things here. We have grown accustomed to living with things that others simply could not tolerate.”
    “I see.”
    The longer you stay here, the stranger things will get for you. The more nights you live among us, the more your eyes will be opened to the darkness of this dreaded place.”
    “Are you trying to frighten me away so I won’t finish my inquiry?”
    “No.”
    “Then why tell me these stories?”
    The howling noises were all around Father Hitchens now. He was growing increasingly more frightened. The sense of menace was growing. He thought that watching a wolf kill a young boy would be more terrifying than strange noises. He was wrong.
    “The wolves are not going away. They would not have enough to feed on if the peasants didn’t have so many children. I’m sure you know they have far more children than they could ever hope to afford. That’s another matter of church law though, isn’t it?”
    “For God’s sake, what are babbling about now?”
    “Nothing at all, Father Hitchens…”
    Father Hitchens was startled beyond belief. He felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He turned around. It was an older man who had some strange disease of the eyes. It appeared as if he was going blind.
    “Father Hitchens, I’m Father Dawkins, we need to get you back safely inside.”
    “Yes, I understand.”
    The old man frightened Hitchens but the idea of being outside and vulnerable was much more terrifying. Still, the damned thing did manage to run wild in the monastery prior to killing the boy.
    “I must rest, this night has been truly exhausting,” said Hitchens. He walked to his guest quarters and looked at the two lit candles on both sides of his bed. He would not be blowing them out. The frightening older monk shut the door behind him.
    “Good dreams and sleep well,” said Father Dawkins. Hitchens experienced neither. He did not fall asleep for a matter of hours. Hitchens was kind of a drunk. The sounds of wolves howling went on all night long. When he did fall asleep, he dreamed of the damned wolves again. He was beginning to seriously wonder how any man, even those who had taken vows of chastity or silence could live here and remain sane. It was too much to ask of ordinary men. It