My boss is a werewolf

A small price to pay for immortality

Camille woke up with a banging headache. The brightness of the room was almost too overwhelming to look at. She blinked severally, trying to make sense of where she was. She opened her eyes again and realized that she was back at home, in The Quarter. Her memories of yesterday were distorted, she tried to piece them together but they were still hazy; she remembered talking to Lucy last night, and also leaving the house shortly after but couldn't remember anything else. When she tried to think harder, her head pounded. She didn't remember having any drinks or going to the bar at all so how was she having a hangover?

She got out of the bed and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. That always helped put her mind back in order. But immediately her feet touched the floor, the headache multiplied greatly. It was as if a dozen hammers were hitting her head at the same time. She winced in pain and grabbed her head, trying to make it stop. But just then, her memories of last night started coming back in fragments;

After speaking to Lucy she remembered feeling angry for some reason. It was a rage she had never experienced before so she had waited for her to get into the bathroom then scribbled some names on a piece of paper and burnt them in the fireplace. This hadn't satisfied her so she opened her wardrobe and picked out a long, black cloak, put it on and left the house without uttering a single word.

Camille opened her eyes again as the painful headache subsided slowly. She rubbed her head wondering what that was all about. It didn't make any sense why she had been so angry. She didn't remember Lucy saying anything that could have made her that mad because she had been furious, like red. Just as she was still wondering what the hell all of that meant, her head went on another pounding spree and her mind entered another trance from yesterday's events;

It was late and the streets were almost empty but she had still kept the hood of the cloak over her head, taking large strides as she walked towards her destination. After a few turns she arrived towards Lafayette cemetery, the men Lucinda spoke about were still there. But the one she sought was not. This made her blood boil.

"Where is he?" She asked in an unfamiliar accent.

The men, who were still rubbing their bruised faces, looked at each other, then back to the hooded figure.

"You better get the hell outta here, lady. I'm not in a very jolly mood right now." One of them said.

"Neither am I. So I suggest you speak before I put you in a far worse mood. I can sense a primal being was in this area and I know you saw the face of man that bruised you so speak before I end you!" She spat angrily.

The men watched with surprised expressions before one of them staggered to his feet and said, "If you're looking for your boyfriend, he ain't here anymore as you can see but you tell him that if I ever see him again, I'm gonna pluck his eyes out myself. Now get the hell outta here!" He screamed.

"Wrong. Answer. Maybe you'd be of more use if you were dead." She lifted her palms towards them, "Moriatore maledictum morte et fac fortiore." She chanted and the men held their necks, struggling to breathe.

"W-what…are… y-you?"

She opened the hood of the cloak and said, "The last face you'll ever see. Moriatore maledictum morte et fac fortiore, moriatore maledictum morte et fac fortiore!" She chanted louder and the men began to levitate in the air, then they screamed as blood spewed from their mouth, nose and ears before finally falling silent as their bodies hit the floor with a loud thud.

Camille opened her eyes panting as she came back to the present.

Whatever that was, it couldn't have happened. She tried not to think about it and went to the bathroom, turned the water on and washed her face. It's not possible, she kept on telling herself but she could feel the goosebumps on her body. She shook the memories out of her head and washed her face some more. As she looked up at the mirror, she froze; For a split second, she thought she saw a different reflection other than her own in the mirror but when she looked again, it was her dripping wet face that stared back at her from the mirror.

What the hell was going on? Missing memories of yesterday, banging headaches, distorted recollections and now seeing a different face in the mirror.

"No. No." She picked up her phone and dialed in a number.

But just as she was going to call, a voice said, "Is that really what you want to do now?"

Camille turned around immediately, looking for the person that had just spoken, but there was no one there except her. She said, "Who's there?" And went to check the bathroom and kitchen but they were all empty and the doors were still locked. "What the hell is wrong with me?" Camille sighed.

"You might wanna sit down for the answer to that." The same voice said and Camille found herself obeying it immediately. She sat down on the bed and waited, eyes darting around looking for the woman she prayed wasn't just in her head.

"I can hear you but I can't see you." Camille muttered.

"It will all be very clear soon but first, how about you spread your cloak on that chair over there. Seeing your eyes dart around is a bit weird." The voice said just as Camille's attention focused on the chair in front of her.

Camille blinked. The chair was behind her a second ago and now it was in front of her. But she didn't ask questions. She just opened the wardrobe, put her hand deep inside and fished out a black cloak she had never seen before today but looked so familiar. She spread it on the chair and sat back down on the bed. It was as if her body was controlling her because it knew exactly what to do without even being told.

"Better. It feels good to finally be noticed after all this time. Sorry about the headache, I might've taken some bourbon last night." The voice said. "Now I know what you're thinking; how do I have a cloak? Why am I speaking to a chair?" The voice chuckled lightly.

"Who are you?"

The voice fell silent. Camille knew it was serious now.

"Well sweetheart, there is no other way to explain this to you other than, I am you or at least a part of you. A greater part."

Camille stared at the chair in front of her, "That's not true. It's not possible."

"No? But here you are talking to a chair covered in a cloak you've never seen before but was picked out of your own wardrobe, by you. Aren't you curious as to how you're talking to an invisible person but you're not afraid?"

Camille let those words sink in. She was surprised by what she was seeing — or not seeing — shocked even but fear wasn't a part of these feelings. She was not afraid. "What do you want?" She asked.

"My name is Mildred. And I am an ancestor of yours. You are an incarnate of me. You see I'm a mage, or sorceress or witch, if you like. My mind was binded to yours and that's why you can feel my presence and emotions, hear me, speak to me etcetera."

Camille giggled. "I'm sorry. But all of this just sounds so ridiculous to me. The fact that I'm apparently a witch just sounds so silly."

"Does it?" Mildred asked and Camille could feel a trace of her rage in her own head as if it was her who was getting angry. It was a familiar feeling. Mildred continued, "You were born on October the fourth, you favourite colour is red, you enjoy your coffee but you know you're favorite drink is Bourbon, you love strawberries and chocolate, you despise lavender and vinegar and you just can't seem to have enough s*x. Does that cover it?"

Camille's eyes widened as her likes and dislikes were called out to her as if from a list. "How do you know all of this?" She whispered.

"Because they are the same for me. Everything I ever liked and hated will be the same for you. Haven't you ever wondered why you felt so powerful immediately after s*x? Most people are drained but it's not like that for you. That's because of the spell I casted a long time ago. Before my reincarnation is complete, you need to have s*x to retain my magic and that's why you feel that surge of energy afterwards."

"I thought it was supposed to feel like that. With adrenaline and energy. So you're the reason I feel so powerful afterwards?"

"That's right."

Camille was silent for a while then said, without looking in the direction, "So what happened last night was you? You made me kill those people like that.

"Oh. Rituals. A small price to pay for immortality." Mildred said carelessly.

"I'm not a killer." Camille said and walked to the window.

"We'll see about that." Mildred said menacingly as the cloak on the chair jumped on Camille's head from behind. Shei tried to fight it but her neck snapped violently before she could struggle any more. She fell head-first on the bedroom floor.

Lifeless.