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Rikes arrived at the station for her night-shift about eight minutes before seven o'clock. She shared a smile with Minsky the receptionist, and passed on towards the network of cold corridors and slightly warmer rooms beyond with their drab decor that hadn't had a rehaul since the 80's.

The shepherd hoped Minsky wouldn't notice that she still felt a little out of sorts, because if she did, she'd have to explain herself. Minsky, a mother of two grown-up cubs and used to manning a desk that played host to the most fragile of victims and all manner of psychotic villains, could read a fur's mind in a pitch-black room, blindfolded. She was kind, but absolutely took no nonsense from anyfur.

Nothing got past that wolf.

Minsky turned a little in her seat as Rikes passed, blinking with seasoned curiosity as the shepherd tried to pretend everything was fine.

And then she was clear. Perhaps Minsky had decided not to give her a verbal grilling. Probably, actually.

She turned a right and put a hand out to push the break room door open. "Evening," she announced as she walked inside. Her fellow constables looked up and smiled welcome, then looked back down at their newspapers, magazines or briefings. Jacobite sipped his coffee and rearranged his heavy, marmalade rump. His impressive half-Persian tail settled on the seat beside him, the fur a little dishevelled by the simple movement.

Rikes hung her coat and bag on the last available hook and went to make a coffee for herself. The group lapsed into comfortable silence, punctuated by the clink of Rike's teaspoon and mug and the thin crunch of somefur turning the page of a magazine.

The calm before the storm. It was always like this when they had a big raid on.

"Have there been any changes of plans?" Rikes asked, rather than check the briefing for changes. She always found that too many reads made those things made the operation so dull she actually un-learned what she needed to know.

"No," said Poppy.

Friendly silence again.

Rikes sat down on one of the rough, upholstered seats - mottled grey, like the carpet and the ageing floor tiles outside - and nursed her coffee as she and the others waited for the sarge to come in. Now that she'd arrived, there was nothing to distract her and she found herself thinking again about the previous night. What actually happened to me? she wondered, gazing at the fluorescent light and its smattering of dead bluebottles. It must have been a dream. Surely it was a dream?

The strong emotions she'd felt during... whatever it was. It'd felt so real. But dreams could be vivid, couldn't they?

That was all it was.

The door flew open and Sarge walked in. "Right you lot, we've got the raid on Pitcher Street, any last-minute questions?"

A mumbled chorus of, "No Sarge," and a shake of the head from big Jacobite.

"No Sarge," he echoed, later than everyfur else.

"Good. Get yourselves ready, 'cos the van's waiting outside."

xXx

Rikes never felt more powerful than at times like this: when she had to use her training to still the anticipation in her belly before a raid. When she had the silent authority of her colleagues around her. When they were about to use their skills as a team. Poppy crouched by her side, one hoof on the handle of the battering ram. Her big, strong-shouldered, equine body never failed to give Rikes confidence, and she hoped she managed to help the rest of the team feel confident too.

The sarge gave the signal and suddenly, it began! With Poppy's power backing her up, Rikes ran at the door, ram in hand.

BANG!

The door cracked and splintered a little around the lock. The bang sounded quite hollow, as if the hall beyond was empty. They often were.

It needed another hit. She and Poppy backed up then charged the door again. This time the lock area splintered and the door gave. With her fingers still locked around the ram, Rikes ran in and stepped to the side to put it down.

Jacobite, his orange and white tail like a banner and his colours in sharp contrast to the black of his uniform, powered past. "THIS IS A RAID!" he called to anyfur who could hear. "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

Unseen feet scurried along the ceiling and several of the team looked up. The residents were upstairs. Without even having to look at each other Rikes and Poppy charged up the stairs, two at a time. She walked quickly along the landing while Poppy went straight into the toilet.

Funny, the places furs hid when their homes were invaded. Perhaps Rikes would ask a criminal psychologist about it one day.

The house was a small one and, while Poppy's voice could be heard talking to somefur in the bathroom, Rikes pulled the airing cupboard door open just in case, but nofur was in there. There was a stash of weed in there, though. She noted the discovery in the back of her mind and walked on to the bedroom.

The room was small and boxy. A bit mouldy, with an unwelcomingly thin-looking bed shoved up against the wall. The light was on and shone a harsh light - there was no lampshade to soften the glow. The curtains were drawn. Rikes felt a buzz in her muscles, which was only reasonable given that this part always made her nerv-

Oh. Oh- no, surely not! It was a dream. She did the best she could to shrug the feeling off and faced the dark fur cowering behind the bed.

A bat. And the sooner she got underway with facing him, the sooner the weird buzz-feeling would go away. She hoped.

"Back off, copper!" he trembled in a north London accent.

"Stand up," she answered.

His legs sprang straight but he looked ready to try and dodge his way past her and out of the room.

But Rikes had already placed herself so that would be as difficult as it could be. "Turn and put your hands on the wall," she answered, with a tone of, 'the sooner you do as I say the sooner this will be over, and the less painful it will be.'

Breathing heavily with stress and fear, the bat did as he was told. He reached up with his wing-arms and spread the two free fingers of each hand and their wing-strut siblings over the surface of the wall.

He looked like a pinned moth.

Rikes took a moment to try and still the buzz. She may have subdued the target, but she could still feel it chasing its way through her muscles. Maybe my sixth sense is telling me something isn't right, she thought, and scanned his dark shape for guns or anything else that might be dangerous.

The buzz strengthened.

The lurch happened so fast that she barely had time to gasp. It seemed to shoot from her toes, up her shins and into her hips, and straight up through her belly. It billowed into her breasts and pushed them hard - though not painfully - against her bullet-proof vest, powered its way down her arms like water through a hose and into her head, where it sparked off a vital and savage anger.

Which she couldn't justify.

When she blinked to try and clear her mind, she realised she felt different. Higher up somehow, and the angles of her body seemed... changed. Stunned by the familiarity as much as the strangeness of the feeling, she looked at the target.

He appeared smaller than before, though still with his back to her and still touching his wingtips to the wall. Waiting for her to do or say something.

The arrogant little shit!

No, wait! He hasn't done anything wrong. Beyond drug-dealing, she thought, desperately trying to rein in her fury. Where was this anger coming from? He hasn't done anything to me!

Rikes realised she'd been holding her breath and let it out. It came with a kind of guttural gurgle.

The bat's head twitched. He half-looked around but seemed to be more intent on listening than looking. He watched the wall to his left, his dark brow creased, his ears fully opened and listening intently. "Copper?" he asked.

The word echoed past Rikes unanswered.

Neither fur moved. The implied menace of the silence wasn't lost on either of them, so it seemed. Why the bat didn't move was a mystery to Rikes, but she kept still because she desperately needed to think about what to do. She wanted to work out whether she'd turned into that... that monster again. But if she moved, she felt certain the bat would look around and see.

And if somefur else saw her in this state? What would be the consequences then?

Her forearms and hands would have turned white, she remembered. So look at them! She glanced down.

White as blizzard snow.

Oh god. I'll kill him if he sees me. I'll rip his head clean-

The simple violence of the thought was enough to make Rikes' stomach squeeze, to make her rock back on her heels. And it was compensation for that rocking-back that confirmed it for her a second time.

Her feet and legs had changed. There were no heels any more.

Against the pale gloom of the far wall, the bat turned his head a little more so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. And when he saw what she'd turned into he turned, his jaw dropping, his eyes wide, his wings half-raised as if he'd forgotten to let them down to his sides.

Don't you dare! she thought. Then she realised she'd snarled.

His jaw twitched as if he wanted to speak, but then all he did was gasp and cower behind the stretched skin of one wing.

Poppy's footsteps beat their way down the hallway.

Before she knew what she was doing, Rikes bounded clean over the bed and grabbed the bat by his pathetic wing. He grunted as she wrenched at his shoulder joint. She flattened herself, the bat half-beneath her, struggling and pleading for his life.

Rikes clamped her hand over his mouth to shut him up and pushed a corner of the duvet out of the way so she could watch between the legs of the bed. Poppy's boots stepped in. Please don't see me.

She had no idea what she'd do if Poppy found out what had happened to her. I'd have to kill her.

Even in her buzzy, furious state the idea repulsed her. Why am I like this? Murder? What am I thinking? On a certain level the logic made sense: she had a secret and if anybody found out, she'd have to kill them to maintain the secrecy.

The bat's hands were on her wrists, trying to force her grip open, but she was much stronger. She wasn't even convinced he was really trying. And anyway, she had more pressing things to worry about. He'd have plenty of time to talk in court.

If he survives that long, growled the beast.

But Poppy? She didn't deserve to die. And this... scumbag? She looked down at him to try and connect with her caninity. Surely he was still just a fur, just an individual, who deserved-

Shit, I've been digging my claws into his face! She pulled her hand away. Blood welled on his temple and between his eyebrows, slicked down his throat.

"Please don't kil-"

No! She'll hear you! She lowered her face so her muzzle was threateningly close to his and growled, a warning. What is this? It's like I'm a feral.

Still, it had the desired effect: the bat's eyes widened and his jaws closed. He still whimpered deep in his throat but it seemed he didn't dare make any more sound than that.

Penny walked across the room. Panicking, Rikes grabbed the bat about the shoulders and rolled onto her back. With luck Penny would only see the bat. Her heartbeat thudded in her head as she realised what a poor risk she was taking.

"What's going on here?" came Penny's authoritative voice. More for the benefit of the criminal than for Rikes, of course. Rikes had taken 'the tone' herself on occasions.

Rikes dug her claws into the bat and he spread his wings. Whether he understood her need to hide or whether it was a fear reaction as he tried to fly away and escape, Rikes never knew. But it worked.

"Are you all right, Rikes?"

"Mm hmm," Rikes growled, realised her voice sounded too deep and guttural and cleared her throat. "Fine," she elaborated, and coughed again, as daintily as she could.

Poppy paused. "I'll be waiting outside," she answered eventually, her own voice strong and horsey, and walked smartly out.

Rikes flopped with relief - the bat's whole body weight rested on her forearms and belly. It didn't seem to amount to much. What do I do now?

She pushed the bat to one side so she could stand and did so, nonchalantly making sure she pushed him away from the door so he wouldn't be able to escape. She had every confidence he wouldn't dare try and get past her.

He cowered against the wall, gathering his wing-struts around his body in a pathetic attempt to protect himself. "Wh... what are you going to do to me?" he asked, breathless but plainly aware Rikes wanted him to keep quiet.

Rikes sat down on the side of the bed and watched him in his shaking terror. His eyes were bright against the dark brown of his face, the whites shining. "What am I going to do?" she echoed, although it came out as a monstrous growl. She ran one, clawed hand down the back of her neck. The exaggerated hackles were there again. "I don't know."

It wasn't a very professional admission, but she thought they were beyond a professional relationship now. The transformation was real and this fur knew about it. What could she do?

The immediate answer was to kill him, but Rikes could see that would be a bad idea. She felt like she could tear his limbs clean off his body. But if she did? If she did, the forensics would lead straight to her.

The coldness of her thoughts frightened her so she looked at the curtains to her right. And then it struck her: there was only one other option, wasn't there? Let him go.

Or kill him and escape. Forget your job and live as a fugitive.

No! I love my job! And he'd innocent.

Rikes sighed. If she was going to let the bat go she needed a few things, mainly his vow of silence. How to achieve that, mutilate him? Asking him for his silence wouldn't be reliable.

Or would it? What would he do, tell her colleagues about this? 'The German shepherd came in and turned into a monster and let me escape through the window.' They'd never believe it.

She stood up, grabbed him by the wing-arm and pulled him to the window.

He sighed with gratitude. "Oh thank you, thank you..."

"What's your name?" she asked. No bat had been mentioned on the case notes.

"Black. Black Nocturna," he said, still struck with fright and willing to say or do anything this monster wanted, if it meant he could live.

Rikes knew the name. He'd been stopped occasionally on the streets, a small-time dealer. There hadn't been any implied connection between him and this operation. "You won't say anything about this. You weren't here," she said and unlocked the window. Pushing it open, she helped him out.

She locked the window again and watched his wing-strokes, dark against black as he flew away from the scene.

Footsteps came up the stairs and Rikes span towards the door in panic. Before she could think any further, she bared her teeth and bunched her limbs to prepare to attack.

No! No, no, no, I can't do this. Hide! And she slipped behind the bed. Laying down, she waited, and hoped, her chin in the dust.

"Rikes?"

Jacobite.

With a flash Rikes realised she'd stitched herself up. Jacobite would say to Penny Rikes wasn't here. Penny would tell Jacobite Rikes had been here. With a male bat. Fuck!

The floor seemed to shift under Rikes and she felt herself contract with a sudden, sickening movement. Oh, thank god.

"Rikes, are you all right?"

He knows I'm here! Am I normal yet? She looked at her forearm. Half pale, half dark.

Another shrink happened, pulling her inwards as she heard his stern footbeats come over. She wiggled her legs - they felt like her own.

"Rikes, what happened? Where's the bat?"

"He..." Think! "He kicked my legs out from under me and ran."

"Ran?" Jacobite asked, holding out a white hand for her to take. He pulled her to a standing position. She looked at him and tried to use his gravity to help her. His thick, feline-maned neck, the dull green of his eyes, the kink in his tail. The way he fitted so well into his uniform they became one authoritative unit, all together. If anyfur knew how to handle a crisis it was Jacobite, from his heroin-addict son to his ex-wife to criminals.

Could he handle monsters? Rikes hoped neither of them would ever have to find out.

"Yes. Didn't he run past you? Did anyfur manage to catch him?"

Jacobite looked closely at Rikes, his brow confused, his slitted eyes suspicious. Then he turned away and walked with fast, silent steps out of the room. She heard the airing cupboard door open and followed.

Jacobite looked at her and shook his head, then silently walked to the bathroom and checked there. "Nofur's here, Rikes."

Rikes feigned disappointment in herself. "So he got past us?"

"I've got no idea where he could have gone. There's drugs in the cupboard, though."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Story © Palantean Writer Rikes © Rikes