The fight with the Lizard Man had been brutal, a primal clash of predator and prey in the heart of the swamp.
But as the adrenaline faded, a chilling realization settled upon me. The Lusifée, the wild cat spirit within, was growing stronger, its influence more pronounced. I could feel its hunger, its thirst for the hunt, a dark undercurrent beneath my human consciousness.
The team was shaken, not just by the creature itself, but by my transformation. They had witnessed the raw power of the Were-Tiger, the speed, the ferocity, the sheer alienness of it. A distance had formed, a wariness in their eyes that mirrored my own internal struggle.
"What... what was that, Hedges?" Gary had asked, his voice rough, his gaze fixed on the fading light reflecting off the swamp water.
I had no answer, only a hollow feeling in my gut and the growing certainty that I was losing control. The line between man and monster was blurring, and I feared the consequences.
Smith, of course, remained his detached, clinical self. He debriefed us on the Lizard Man, or what little we could ascertain. Its biology was unlike anything we had encountered before, a bizarre mix of reptilian and mammalian traits, with a strength and resilience that defied explanation. The reports from the locals, the mangled livestock, the terrified witnesses – it all painted a picture of a creature far more dangerous and intelligent than we had initially believed.
But Smith's focus was already on the next hunt.
"There have been reports of strange occurrences in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey," he said, his voice crackling through the comm system. "Sightings of a winged creature, described as having a horse's head, bat-like wings, and cloven hooves. It's been dubbed the Jersey Devil."
The Jersey Devil. Another legend, another monster. And for the first time, I felt a flicker of hesitation, a deep-seated unease that went beyond the usual apprehension of facing the unknown. The thought of transforming again, of unleashing the Lusifée, filled me with a growing dread.
But there was no denying the pull, the dark allure of the hunt. It was in my blood now, a curse and a calling. I was the Best American Cryptid Hunter, and the shadows were my domain.
As we prepared to journey north, to the desolate, haunted landscapes of the Pine Barrens, I knew that this time, the battle would not only be against the monster we hunted, but against the monster within. The Jersey Devil awaited, and so did my own personal reckoning.
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