Creature of the Night(Michael Bertolini) Near Paris, France – 981 AD

Brother Vincenzo stood outside of the monastery, looking at the stars. He dreamed of a far-off land, the land of his ancestors, which even Nero had failed to destroy in his poetic musings. He imagined Jesus looking down at him, approving Vincenzo’s sacrifice, approving the monk’s presence in a land so much unlike his own. There was just a sliver of moonlight; legends said that it was safe to venture outside the monastery’s holy walls as long as the moon wasn’t full. He paid attention to the songs of the night, animals of demonic nature that hunted in the shadows of Ra’s sleeping sun. But the wolves, the most dangerous of them all, were far off as if they knew the monastery offered them nothing but a chance to return to the gates of Hell. With them a safe distance away, Vincenzo could dream. He’d been the same way as a young boy, sitting in his father’s fields when he should’ve been sleeping. Something always drew him to the night, he’d become a creature of habit taking his chances behind the Lord’s back. But in his blind faith, he thought himself invincible from nature’s darker side.

The first clue that Vincenzo had was the sound of twigs snapping, the sound a person makes when stalking through the trees. The monk looked around but in the darkness of Heaven he saw nothing, not even his hands stretched out before him. He recited a prayer in his head as the sounds got louder. Then, as suddenly as they began, the sounds stopped.

Vincenzo wasn’t prepared for dealing with the Devil and turned back to the monastery doors. Behind him came the whoosh of wind as something cut through the air behind him. Vincenzo started to pray again, this time speaking aloud in hopes that’d he scare off his attacker. His attacker, though, was already standing behind him.

“… though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I fear no evil…” Vincenzo said, speaking in his native Italian. The voice that responded was powerful and dark, something only a monster in the night could possess.

“You will fear me…”

Vincenzo didn’t have a chance to respond as the unknown attacker kicked the monk powerfully, sending him crashing through the wooden doors into the courtyard beyond. As Vincenzo’s last breath escaped him, the attacker stepped through the hole to reveal himself. He was a well known and well respected individual, Lord Van Pierre. Many of the monks that would have otherwise fled stopped to look at the man they believed to love and respect the Church. The younger monks, still prepared to hide, watched from a safe distance.

“Van Pierre,” one of the older monks called out, “why are you here?” Van Pierre didn’t speak, just opened his mouth impossibly wide to reveal the long curved teeth that had once been his canines. As the younger brother’s fled, the legends of the vampire began. They didn’t witness the true horror he’d become as they fled to the safety of cupboards and crawlspaces. The remaining monks had the misfortune of seeing what had happened to Van Pierre next; which likely kept them from completely losing their sanity. The attacker ran at speeds unnatural for a human, his skin changing colors so that it was invisible. It appeared like the clothes he wore were running by themselves. When the clothes were ripped away, the monks had no idea where Van Pierre could be. The man eventually revealed himself at the expense of Brother John’s life. The blood that covered Van Pierre couldn’t become invisible, so he no longer bothered with the camouflage.

Six monks remained standing, forming a semi-circle around him. It was a futile attempt, they stood as a buffet for the creature Van Pierre had become; the sound of their beating hearts rang like a dinner bell to his sensitive ears. Whatever the monks were thinking, whatever prayer they might have been saying, was cut short by the fury unleashed. Van Pierre didn’t become any animal known, but some beast from the darkness. As the monks fell to the ground, a man stepped from the shadows to watch. The man was Louis DePaul, a monk at the ministry, but with close ties to his family in Paris. He kept out of sight, just close enough to see what monster had come into their walls. Louis was a smart man and, despite the fear building in him he studied the creature.

It was larger than a man, with a muscular upper body and strong legs that propelled it quickly. Its hands had twisted and had claws rather than fingers. Spikes grew from its scaly hide at every joint and a row of thick spikes ran down its back along its vertebrae. Its head was fairly human, his original form could be recognized; but there were differences. The most notable change had to be the ears, now monstrous bat-like ears rather than the smaller human ears. Its eyes were also different, resembling those of a fly. To Louis, it seemed like Van Pierre had become a beast made from many animals; though the process was unknown to him.

Lost in his thoughts, Louis didn’t notice that the creature stood with its head cocked to one side. It hadn’t turned to look at Louis, but with its insect eyes it saw him. Now the beast had the choice of continuing its rampage of the monastery or attacking the foolish monk in the shadows. With its animal instincts in control, it attacked the unsuspecting human who had no defenses against it.

Louis screamed as he was struck by the beast. He was pushed to the ground, the creature held him down with its powerful forearms. It leaned close so that Louis could see its face clearly; it looked almost human though the mouth opened wide like that of a snake to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. Louis prepared himself for the pain as it bit the side of his neck.

The creature pulled away, tearing a chunk away, and stepped away from Louis. Other monks had come, armed with rudimentary weapons. They were ineffective weapons, enough to irritate the creature. As it slaughtered the men, Louis crawled to the safety of a stone doorway. As he held his hand to his neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding he looked back at the creature. It didn’t appear hurt, but for some reason it was preparing to leave. Louis knew he had only one chance.

“What are you?” He coughed blood as he spoke. He didn’t know if it could speak Latin, let alone understand his words. To his surprise, the creature answered before making its escape.

“Lycanthrope.”

Louis was in bed with the flu for two weeks, unconscious and unresponsive to any stimulus. He tossed and turned, wrapping himself in his blankets, as though he was trapped in a nightmare. His wound was closed and cleaned as well as the monks could. The most they could do was pray for him to wake.

Three months later, the church dispatched an investigator. This man, who claimed to be an exorcist, was informed of the deaths at the monastery as well as what had happened since the creature’s first appearance. The man was an Italian, Mario Libbi, and decorated in the garb of a bishop. At the monastery he was met by Louis DePaul and given quarters.

“You survived the beast’s attack?” Libbi asked.

“I was fortunate that my brothers intervened; at the cost of their lives.” Louis said solemnly.

“What did it do to you?” Libbi was focused on Louis, ignoring his bags and the jacket he held in his arms. Louis noticed the silver cross hanging from the man’s neck as well as golden rings signifying his importance.

“It tried to rip my head off.” Louis shuffled his feet, wanting to escape the man.

“Did it scratch you or claw you in any way?”

“No; why?”

“From what I’ve heard, the beast may be a hellish creature that wields the darkness. I’d be afraid that anyone clawed, but not killed, would be infested by the devil’s wickedness.”

“I assure you, not a scratch.” Louis paused. “Do you know what it is?”

“I have ideas, but I’m not entirely sure yet.”

“If you need anything, just ask.” Louis said, sensing that this was a good time to end the conversation. Libbi raised his right hand, ushering Louis away. But before the monk had escaped Libbi’s sight, the investigator called to him.

“Did it bite you?” Louis didn’t answer the question.

Later that afternoon close to the time supper would be served; Libbi summoned Louis to the monastery’s library. The monk was cautious but behaved calmly. He hadn’t shared his story with his brothers, and he trusted them more than this stranger with a passion for the dead. Louis found Libbi reading a large, old tome. The Italian looked up with a smile.

“Do you know what a lycanthrope is?” Louis pretended like he’d never heard it before, though it was the only word the creature had used. With his feigned ignorance, he ushered Libbi to continue. “A lycanthrope is a man that suffers from lycanthropy; it doesn’t have to be only a man but men are more affected. Whatever lycanthropy is, it changes the appearance of the host and turns it into some sort of monstrous beast. Usually, the person changes into a specific kind of animal; I’ve never heard of a beast like you’ve met.

“You might’ve heard of werewolves; they’re the most common lycanthropes in this area. But in other places, people change into different creatures. In the dark jungles of the black lands, the men turn into large cats or monstrous apes, near Constantinople they turn into bat-like things in the mountains and dog beasts in other areas. In the Holy Land, they become reptiles of horrendous magnitude. But, never anything similar to this. If I had to guess, this Van Pierre had a type of lycanthropy that made him into a killing machine.

“We don’t know much about lycanthropy, God has not granted us the knowledge. But we know the monsters it creates, and we know how it spreads.” He was looking Louis in the eyes, the monk decided to change the line of thought.

“You said werewolves are lycanthropes; I know little about them.” Libbi stood in silence before yielding to Louis’ question.

“They are men that become wolves. It seems that they can only change during the full-moon, but other lycanthropes can change at will so I don’t see why werewolves cannot. It is hope, I suppose, that makes us believe they can only change once a month. But they are powerful and long-lived; the oldest werewolf known was almost four hundred years old and spry as a man in his twenties. If he hadn’t been killed, who really knows?”

“They can be killed?”

“In human form, in their monster form it takes special weapons and precise attacks. On your beast, I don’t know where its weakness is.”

“You wanted to know what happened to me in the attack.” Louis decided he needed to know why Libbi was concerned more than any fear of being asked.

“Were you bitten?”

“It tore a chunk of flesh from my throat before fleeing.”

“Was the wound cleaned immediately?”

“Within an hour.”

“Was the flesh burned to keep it safe?”

“I was unconscious, I don’t know.” Louis frowned. “Why?”

“Because lycanthropy is spread through bites. We don’t know how exactly, but anyone bitten and survives usually becomes a beast like the creature that created it. Sometimes scratches can do it, but the Lord has kept his secrets.”

“You’re afraid that I’ve become this creature too.” Louis now knew why Libbi was always sweating when the monk was close.

“I am.”

“I assure you that I haven’t changed; all the killings are still from Van Pierre.”

“I truly hope that’s the truth.”

The next morning, Van Pierre’s body was found at the bottom of a rocky ravine; it’d been decomposing. Clearly, it’d been there for months; he hadn’t been the one killing people in the areas. When Libbi went looking for him, Louis DePaul had disappeared.


Paris, France – 1793 AD

Louis DePaul watched as Marie Antoinette was laid under the guillotine. The murderous device was named after its creator, not the way one wanted to go down in history. As the queen was about to lose her head, Louis rubbed the line on his throat where his own decapitation was attempted. Lucky for him, Louis had been in his creature form and the blade shattered like pottery smashed against the floor. He smiled as she uttered her last words; his family had done well in orchestrating the revolution. After what they’d done in the American colonies, the DePaul family was getting experienced in revolution.

He laughed at the ridiculous notion that American patriots had actually come up with the documents that freed them from Britain’s rule; though they’d toyed with the idea of using Patriots as a codename for their growing organization. It was decided against, that was an American word and didn’t describe the scope of their power. He turned away from the platform where Marie Antoinette’s headless body rested, the eager French mob wanted to rip her to pieces as a warning to the former King Louis XVI. Part of him wished the King had a different name, but Louis was a DePaul and immune from the terror that had swept over the country.

Louis was aware of his shadow; since he was first followed he enjoyed the attention. Knowing who pursued him made it that more enjoyable. Louis was a beast over thirteen-hundred years old, only slightly younger than his shadow that was older when they were both mortal in 981. Louis made his way into an empty building, away from the excitement in the square. He’d learned that Libbi’s explanation of lycanthropy was true, he could change at will. Once inside, Louis transformed himself.

The beast tore itself free of his mortal shell, which made Louis think that the creature was his true self. As his fallen flesh turned to dust, Louis disappeared in the shadows. His pursuer, Mario Libbi, entered the place minutes later. Louis toyed with the former bishop.

“How does it feel to have the monster within?” Louis called from the shadows.

“I have learned to control the chaos I’ve become, unlike you.” Libbi called, slowly shifting into the dog creature he’d become from lycanthropy. Libbi had gone to Constantinople just to become a beast, to pursue Louis through time.

“But you can’t escape the bloodlust.”

“I’ve controlled it; I only kill what I need. Unlike you; how many have you killed today?”

“I’ve had a slow start, just a boy that worked in the stable at my family home.”

“You’ve always killed.” Libbi had become a creature that the ancient Egyptians honored as Anubis. Louis had learned, from his travels around the world, that many deities were just lycanthropes. Others were the alien creatures like the demon the DePauls had discovered in America.

“No need to create more like me. I like being unique.” His laugh echoed through the building. “Now, I feel like feasting on another lycanthrope!” Libbi was unprepared for Louis’ attack. When the Italian’s body was found he was naked and mauled as if a wild animal had feasted on him. Louis wasn’t going to let him live, out of habit, but he never needed to worry about infecting Libbi. Lycanthropes couldn’t infect others.


Paris, France – 1877 AD

Louis DePaul had succumbed to the eventuality of death, but not before passing his gift to another DePaul. It was Fredrick DePaul, who’d watched the execution of the dishonored King Louis XVI. Louis hadn’t lived long after the execution of Marie Antoinette, the lifespan of a lycanthrope had finally presented itself as he died just before his 14,000th birthday.

Fredrick had plans, now that he alone was the creature of the night. A scientist he was aware of was trying to create some medical marvel, but he was poor. Fredrick decided to give this man, Louis Pasteur, the money he needed. The only thing he asked was a way to spread lycanthropy without biting or scratching. In his study of penicillin, Louis, who had the fortune of sharing the name with Fredrick’s predecessor, released the information in secret.

But it was clear that the technology didn’t exist to put the virus to work. After killing Pasteur, which was reported as the result of a series of strokes the man suffered, Fredrick put Pasteur’s journals in storage in his family home until it could become the weapon Fredrick dreamed it would be.


Worthington, Connecticut, USA – 2007 AD

The secret of the DePauls found its way into the hands of a discredited scientist by the name of Craig Fummel. Funded by the wealthy family, Fummel was given the directions originally planned by Fredrick DePaul. No creature existed, Fredrick never passed the lycanthropy to another, and the mystery of his form would forever be lost.

But Craig had his task; infect others with lycanthropy to create an army of monsters. They would be the creatures of the night.

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