Claw Enforcement

“So the person who attacked you… they were covered in- fur, does this say?” The tired policeman rubbed his eyebrows as he re-read the notes taken by his much younger, sruffier partner. He had to squint to make out what he had written in the first place. “Did you mean to say they were a-”

He was quickly cut off by the frantic waving hands of the woman standing before him. “Don’t say it!” She gestured behind her, to where her elderly grandmother sat in her armchair, eyes closed and gently breathing in and out as if trying to induce a deep slumber. “She doesn’t remember much about what happened, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much.”

The young woman pulled the red fabric closer around her shoulders, covering a new bandage on one arm. Gooseflesh prickled up her bare skin.

“Of course, Ma’am - we wouldn’t want to upset your Grandmother, of course. We just need the information for the report, you see.” He tapped the paper with the tip of his pencil, adding small dots around the edge of his handwritten notes. “Could you just run it through with me one more time - just so I’m clear with what happened, and I’ve got everything we need to leave you both alone?”

The girl bit her lower lip in thought, absent-mindedly running her palms up and down her bare arms to warm them up. They were standing in the doorway of her grandmother’s cottage, and although the medics had already checked both women over for injuries, she was far more reluctant to let any of the officers inside. Her mind whirred for a moment, contemplating telling the man to leave, but she decided against it and stepped back, giving him room to come inside.

“I’m going to take my Grandmother to her bedroom - she’s traumatized, and needs proper rest. I trust you’re not going to need to speak to her again tonight.” She phrased it as a statement rather than a question, and the officer simply shook his head and watched as the woman helped her grey-haired grandmother to her tartan-slippered feet, and gently walked her to the bedroom at the far side of the cottage. He closed and locked the door behind him, leaving the key in the lock, and turned to take a better look around the living space.

The girl - who gave only the name Red, her nickname given to her as a child by her grandmother - kept the house rather tidy. She worked during the daytime at the bakery on the other side of town, but came home every night to stay at the little cottage at the edge of the woods. They cooked together, cleaned together, worked together to keep her little garden fruitful. They were a wonderful pair to behold, truly.

So when he had been roused from his slumber in the early hours, learning that the sweet old lady had been attacked in her own home, the officer knew he had to jump into the investigation. A number of attacks, similar to the way Red had already described the events, had occurred in recent months in the area, though no-one had been able to identify a perpetrator.

‘Such sharp teeth…’

‘What big claws it had!’

‘Eyes as wide as saucers.’

‘I thought it looked human at first…’

The reports were too similar to ignore, however that seemed to be the easiest thing to do. The detectives who were supposed to be dealing with the case had deciced long ago to just give it up, finding much more important and solvable cases to work on instead.

“We can sit over here if you want,” came a voice from behind.

Red gestured to the patchwork armchairs beside the small fireplace. The officer nodded and followed her over, and sat himself in the same chair her grandmother had just occupied.

“What did you want to know?” asked Red, again pulling her cloak closer around her arms.

She seemed to be uncomfortable, so the officer tried to reassure her however he could. “This should only take a matter of minutes - we are very keen to stop this monster before they attack again. Anything you can remember about the event will be helpful.”

Red nodded and reached out to take a small, round container from the table beside her. It was silver, and had an ornate pattern on the lid.

“Do you mind if I use this?” she asked, not waiting for an answer and opening the pot. Inside was a pale pink, gel-like substance. Red removed the bandage from her arm, and rubbed some of the paste over her wounds. Almost instantly they started to close, and the officer watched in amazement as each of the deep parallel slices through her bicep healed almost completely, leaving only faint pink lines on her skin.

“That stuff is incredible - what is it? I’ve never seen something work as well as that at healing injuries!” He leaned in to have a closer look, and then was astonished to see many, many more of those same faint, pink, parallel lines marring her skin.

Red did not seem aware that he had noticed, and pushed the pot over to his side of the table. “It’s a healing balm - I’ve learned how to make it myself.” She seemed to stumble for a moment on her words, then hastily added, “I’ve burned myself so often at the bakery, you see, and it was getting rather too expensive to keep visiting the healers every few weeks. You know how expensive they are these days - just tonight I’ve spent more on them wrapping up my arm in this flimsy thing than I have on ingredients for that for weeks!”

The officer shrugged and passed it back, then took out his notepaper again. “I was just curious, is all. Nothing to worry yourself about. Now, can you tell me how everything started tonight?”

And so Red went into the same story he had heard a hundred times: a strange noise from her grandmother’s bedroom, sharp claws appearing from no-where, slicing through her arm as the creature tried to escape through the window. The Grandmother was, thankfully, unharmed, though her bedcurtains were torn to shreds and there were scratch marks all over the bedposts.

“I’m just finding it curious, that’s all.” The officer flicked through his notes from the other events, each from houses in less-populated areas of town, owned by other elderly people who mostly lived alone. “You alone have been caring for your grandmother for years, haven’t you? It must take its toll.”

Red sat up straigh in her chair and furrowed her eyebrows at the man. “Why would taking care of my loving grandmother ever be anything like a burden? I love her more than anything.”

“I know you aren’t telling the whole story, Red. Now’s the time to come clean about whatever has been going on.”

Red stood up and walked over to the door. “I think it’s best you leave now, Officer. You are more than welcome to return tomorrow, but for now my Grandmother and I need rest from this ordeal.”

The officer closed his notepad and stretched his arms out on the arms of the chair. The fabric felt strange under his fingertips; uneven and torn in some places. He looked down and realised that just under each finger pad was a hole, made by several small, sharp points that just so happened to be in the same place as his fingers. He looked up at Red and watched her eyes find what he had noticed.

She opened her mouth to tell him, more forcefully, to leave, when a loud thud came from the end of the hallway - the room her grandmother was sleeping in.

Red bolted down the hall, several paces ahead of the older officer. Not old by any means, just older than her.

She opened the door and rushed into the bedroom, but found nothing amiss. Her grandmother still seemed to be sleeping peacefully under a clean duvet, though it was difficult to see her properly through the shredded curtain hanging around her. Red moved it slowly to the side and took a sharp intake of breath, which drew the officer to her side. His hand was already resting on his knife, safely stored in the sheath at his side. He, too, stood frozen for a moment as he took in the sight.

Within minutes of being out of sight, the sweet old grandmother had transformed into a monstrous beast. Grey fur covering every visible inch, sharp teeth that extended past her lips, sharp pointed ears, and long, curling claws where her nails should have been. They were tipped with a deep red substance, and it was that sight that snapped the officer from his trance and led him to unsheath his blade. He stepped towards the sleeping creature, under the wide open window that was blowing in a cool breeze.

Red stepped in front of him, blocking her grandmother from her reach.

“Please. She’s all I’ve got left.”

The officer put the blade down, but did not back away. “She’s hurt so many people, Red. She is trouble, and we can’t allow monsters like her to roam around any longer. It’s not safe for anyone.”

“I know, I know,” she whispered, moving away slowly as her grandmother snored, a small trickle of blood running down her mouth. “I didn’t think she would try again tonight, not after…” She gripped her arm, where the wound was just minutes before. “Just please, please don’t hurt her. I’m sure if you just took her away, arrested her, or something like that, she wouldn’t do anything else. She doesn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

The officer sighed, nodded, and sheathed his knife again. He removed a pair of silver handcuffs from a pocket inside his jacket, and cuffed one of the old lady’s arms to the bedpost beside it.

“Silver…” said Red, looking at how the metal immediately left a red mark around her grandmother’s fury wrist. “You knew what she was before you came here, didn’t you?”

The officer nodded, and put out his hand towards Red. “Officer Hunter. Specialist in transformative creatures, though I’ve not come across many werewolves in my time in this division.” Red shook his hand loosely, her focus floating back to the old wolf on the bed. “We know how to deal with situations like this, don’t you worry. It will only get better from here.”