TITLE: Supernatural Freak
GENRE: urban fantasy
Being alone, in the middle of nowhere, at night, is a scary situation. Still, the true Londoner doesn't lose her head, but takes a deep breath, smoothes the pleats on her jacket and goes in search of a Bobby, or a black cab.
Only foreigners freak out in such circumstances. Londoners, on the other hand, being the most British of all British people, never ever freak out. But, when you are a paranormal expert who's in a deserted area of the Docks and was supposed to heal a werewolf with the aid of a shaman who hasn't showed up, I'm afraid the only reasonable reaction is to...
"Run!" Mr Wilson growls, getting worryingly hirsute. He has a point. A skinny girl in her twenties is no match for a werewolf, and I don't think that telling him I'm a dog person would make much of a difference. Trouble is that he's standing between me and my car, so my only option is to run in the opposite direction. My feet sink into the sand of the Thames' shore, the river a creepy black ribbon, untouched by the full moon’s rays. It takes what looks like ages to cross the sand and reach the building-site, a hundred yards away. I should have never trusted that damn shaman. How could I have been so stupid? A long howl fills the air. My client has now fully transformed. In a second he will pick up my scent and hunt me down.