Coton

Frost coated the blue shipping container. Mags screamed over the phone about a manifest error, but the yard was already empty. My staff had bolted when the alarms tripped red. I pulled the heavy latch anyway. The steel door swung back, catching the icy wind, then slammed shut behind me with a heavy bang. In the gloom, the smell hit first. Wet fur, iron & foul decay. It crouched on the plywood floor, dragging useless legs through sawdust. Human shoulders, thick arms, but wolf ears peaked sharp against the dark ceiling. Long canines glinted beneath a pulled lip. It threw a heavy fist into the air, striking nothing, its chest heaving with dry growls. My knees gave out. I sat in the corner, cold & tired, watching those dead limbs trail behind it. Security pounded on the corrugated metal from outside, shouting about tranquilizers. "Back off," I shouted through the steel. "Touch it and you are fired." Now the creature sat on my Persian rug, leaning against a mahogany bookshelf. Coton, he had rasped when I pushed a bowl of water toward him, his voice like grinding stones. A hybrid that should not exist, living in my sitting room. Mags stood near the fireplace, his coat smelling of cheap tobacco & panic. "The dock authorities are tracing the blue unit," Mags said, wringing his raw hands. "They want the cargo returned tonight." I poured two fingers of cheap rye & did not offer him a glass. "Tell them a local cartel took it from the yard. Armed hijackers." Mags stared at me, his mouth open. "They will demand the security feeds." "I wiped the servers an hour ago." I dragged a chair across the floor and sat down, staring at the beast on my rug. "Go home, Mags." Mags swallowed hard, looked at the werewolf & left without another word. The lock clicked. Silence settled over the room, heavy & expensive.