SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

“But the Prefect went even further than that, my young friend. You see, he told me that another book on his secret shelves contained the description of a pair of weapons fashioned from relics of the crucifixion. Someone was charged with smelting the thirty coins and using the silver to plate two daggers fashioned from a metal spear-point. It was no simple spear, however, but the spear of Longinus, the centurion who inflicted the fatal wound on Christ while he languished on the cross. Normally death comes to the crucified by asphyxiation. The Roman soldier later realized his spear had been blessed by its contact with the holy flesh and repented, even though his act had been merciful.”

The priest paused here, wiped his dry mouth, and clearly wished for wine. “I don’t know exactly how it came about, but the silver-plated blades were specially intended to kill werewolves, which up to that point had been invulnerable to any weapon. Since then, it is said, all silver is abhorrent to wolves. The silver-plated weapons were matched with wood from either the Longinus spear, or from the true cross – or from both, the book was imprecise, as old tomes often are – which was fashioned into scabbards for the daggers.”

“What’s the value of that?” Giovanni asked, interested despite his meager belief. In the distance, Allied planes pounded the harbor. He hoped this time, at least, they had found their target. Giovanni also hoped the German warships anchored there were taking a beating.

The priest explained: “One thing, the sanctified wood seems to veil the silver’s presence, so a werewolf cannot quickly sense the imminent danger of a formidable opponent, making it easier to take one by surprise. The mystic I spoke of further theorized that the holy weapon might be used by one man afflicted with the werewolf disease to fight and vanquish another, because he would be able to keep the blade close to his body without himself suffering the excruciating burns the silver would have caused him otherwise. The mystic called the dagger the werewolf’s werewolf killer.”

“Well, all this knowledge is fine and good, and your friend was certainly helpful, but what good has it done here?”

“After showing me the book, the Prefect went to a locked cabinet in this most secret of places and from it he removed a wooden case which held both daggers. He gave them to me, my friend, and I have brought them to Corrado.”

“My God.”

“Yes, perhaps it is God giving us an advantage. Perhaps it is something older than God. I am certain I do not know.”

“What does your friend think is the origin of these monsters?”

“My friend recounted the famous legend of Romulus and Remus, the babes who founded Rome – but more importantly, who were abandoned and later suckled by a she-wolf. Every schoolchild has heard this one, but there is an older, lesser-known legend in which the two male babes were not rescued, but were the offspring of the she-wolf, the result of copulation with a human. In this version, the babes Romulus and Remus were the first shapeshifters, and they passed on the gene to their own offspring. Perhaps the full moon’s influence on the night of conception has something to do with it. No one knows. But nothing could kill the cursed wolf-men until the Christ’s death led to the fashioning of the daggers.”

Giovanni digested the priest’s words.

“Now I want wine, Corrado, damn you.”

Outside, the all-clear sounded and the city came crawling out of its holes.

4

Giovanni blinked as they led him out of the air raid shelter they called Sanctuary.

It was dark, but even so it was brighter than the candle-lit cavern below.

After the all-clear, Corrado had assigned two men to accompany Giovanni to his apartment, where he hoped to find Franco.

Giovanni followed the tall, strangely nicknamed werewolf-killer Turco (who didn’t appear in the least Turkish) and a taciturn hulking giant of a man named Manfredo. They had given him a newer German P38 pistol he had again tucked into his belt, a commando-style knife, and in his hands he carried another Beretta submachine gun.

Just like that, it seemed, Giovanni had become a partisan.

Porca fortuna!

He was content to know Maria was as safe as she could be in the shelter, which was extensive and well-stocked, but his son’s safety was on his mind. And, if he were honest with himself, his own safety was as well – now, if he were stopped by the Germans, he would be summarily executed.

They crept through the ruined street, hoping that when they reached Giovanni’s there would be buildings left standing. No bombing could be completely accurate, but the amount of civilian devastation ringing the port was incredible. Parts of buildings spilled out debris and belongings, some still smoldering from this last Allied bombing run, which had mostly missed the harbor after all.