Free No Such Thing As Werewolves by Chris Fox Page A

They quickened their pace, eventually reaching the light and rounding the corner. Blair could do nothing but stop and stare. The hallway continued for about fifteen feet, but what lay beyond was what had captured his attention so completely. He’d seen the inner chambers in nearly every pyramid on this continent, but nothing rivaled the room ahead.
    The light from his headlamp barely touched a ceiling that had to be at least a hundred feet above. At each cardinal direction rested an enormous obelisk, like miniature versions of the one in Washington DC. Each probably weighed forty or fifty tons.
    A fifth, larger one sat in the very center of the chamber. Blair guessed its height to be fifty feet, and it looked to be solid-black stone. Obsidian perhaps?  
    There was only one other feature of note, a perfectly carved replica of the wolf-headed goddess from the first panel. It stood against the far wall, palm raised in what appeared to be a gesture of friendship. It had nobility to it, majesty even. Every strand of fur was sculpted to perfection.  
    “It’s tough to make out unless we turn on the generators, but the walls are covered in hieroglyphs. The ones near the obelisks are the most exquisite in the entire structure. You’re going to wet your pants when you see them,” Bridget teased, though he could tell the behavior was forced.  
    “Blair?” a voice called, cracked from disuse. A figure hobbled into the light of Blair’s headlamp; apparently Steve had been resting in the shadow of the central obelisk. “Blair, is that you? You’ve come at last. I need you, my old friend. We must find the way down. She’s in there, waiting. She needs us. Blair, we have to get in .”
    Blair’s eyes burned from a sharp odor when his old friend emerged fully from the shadows. Steve had always been muscular, the athlete all the girls loved. That was gone. Soiled khakis and a polo shirt hung from his emaciated form. His dark hair was disheveled, and his skin peeled in patches, as if it had been subjected to bad sunburn. The glasses were familiar, but the man who wore them couldn’t possibly be Steve. His eyes held a feverish glint that made Blair tense defensively.
    “Steve?” he asked, aware of Bridget’s hesitant form on the step behind him.  
    “Yes,” his friend answered, voice wavering. It was a bit more steady than it had been a moment ago. “I’m so glad you’ve come. The rest of these fools don’t understand, but you do. You can help me get in. You can, can’t you? Promise me. Promise!”
    The last was delivered in a shriek that echoed through the cavernous chamber. Spittle flew from Steve’s mouth, and his eyes leaked hatred. He lurched forward, seizing Blair’s shoulders. The madman’s gaze locked with his, and to his horror, Blair could find no humanity lurking there. Not a shred.
    “Of course, Steve. I promise. I’ll help however I can. It’s going to take some time though. I’ll need access to your notes,” he said, speaking slowly and calmly like he would to a wild dog.
    “Notes? Yes. Yes, you’ll need those,” he said, releasing Blair and scurrying to a folding table that had been erected in the shadow of one of the obelisks. He began grabbing loose sheets of paper and arranging them into a ragged stack. “Here, you can study these, but you must hurry. The end is coming. We must get inside before it’s too late. We must , or the world will burn.”

Chapter 9- Decisions

    Blair shivered as he left the sun’s thin embrace for the shadowed pavilion. A fistful of now-familiar faces clustered around the portable heater next to the folding table. Blair set his coffee cup down, thankful for the gloves Bridget had insisted he bring. They had conductive fingertips, so he could use his smartphone without braving the cold.
    “Good, Blair’s here. We can get started,” Sheila said, nodding at him from across the room. Her southern drawl was so faint it threatened to disappear entirely. This must