The Gadillon Family

The 1500s were a great time to find rampant werewolf stories.
This one takes place in 1598 France. The Gandillon family -a sister, her brother and his two children- ravaged an area called Jura in wolf form.

Penette Gandillon believe she was a wolf she would run around on all fours. One day she came upon a small boy and girl -brother and sister- gathering strawberries. Penette was consumed by blood rage and attacked the girl. The boy, a four-year-old, pulled a knife on Penette and defend his sister. Penette slashed at the boy cutting his neck and killing him. Later the girl identified that as her brothers killer.
Outraged peasants attacked Penette and tore her pieces.

Not long after, Pernette’s brother Pierre was accused of witchcraft. Rumors circulated appears kidnapping children and taking them to the witches sabbath. He would make fierce hailstorms and turned himself into a wolf with long shaggy gray hair. The devil gave him a special ointment. He wants changed into a hare once too. He accepted the rumors as truth. He confessed to killing and eating animals and humans and to return to human all he had to do was rolling grass.


Georges –Pierre’s son- confessed to using the ointment too. While his body lie in a trance state in bed, lasting three hours once he out he attended a witches sabbat. While in wolf form he killed and eaten two goats.
Both father and son had scars on their faces arms hands and legs that they’d received while in wolf form and fighting with dogs.

Antotinette confessed to selling her soul to the devil who appeared to her in the form of a black cat. She created hail while attending sabbats.

Pierre Georges behaved like raging maniacs, running around their cells on all fours and howling. It was believed they didn’t shape-shift into wolf’s because they didn’t have their magical ointment. Father and both his children were convicted hung and burned.

I’m honored to have Vampire Maman here with one last werewolf story.
I can’t thank you enough Juliette for being here. 😀

A Werewolf’s Train to Nowhere

A story from Juliette Kings (Vampire Maman)

Right after I’d graduated from college (the first time) from one of the rare Universities (now a well respected and famous school) that accepted women I took a trip across country on a train to meet my brother Val. He’d gone to New York City without me, leaving me, a young woman, unescorted. I would have done fine on my own but back then, in 1881 young women, even Vampires, didn’t travel alone.

I got on the train on a dark full moon night and made my way to my car. I was to share a car with several other students and some sort of chaperone. What I found was three young men dressed in rather garish suits of the latest fashion (or so they thought) and nobody else. Two had short beards, again, the style of the time. I recognized one from school. The train started to move. There was no getting off. OK I could have jumped, but I was in a long dress with a bustle no less and jumping wasn’t a practical option. Contrary to popular belief I couldn’t turn myself into a bat and fly away. So I stayed. They were horrible the entire time making crude jokes and being as vulgar as they could be. They insulted me for being a Vampire, calling me dead and cold and well, they were vulgar to say the least. I was in Hell and ready to get off of the train.

I sat took claim to a settee with a small table and tried to ignore my garishly dressed companions. A young woman climbed aboard and the three men cheered. She was dressed as garish as they were in the most stylish of gowns but it was a bright orange color with brown beaded trim. Her hair was as orange as the dress and piled high on her head. That included a lot of fake hair to go along with her real hair.

She eyed me up and down. “Who invited the Vampire?”

“I’m Juliette,” I said to the Werewolf girl. Holy crap I’d been stuck for a cross country trip with four Werewolves. Every muscle and bone on my body tightened up. I wanted to scream. Instead I just kept my place in my corner while my companions made as much noise as they could laughing out loud and of course the alcohol and drugs came out. Of course.

Just as the parting whistle blew the door opened again and in stepped my friend Pierce. Finally, another Vampire had arrived, and a strong protective one at that. His father owned the train car and I didn’t even put the two together. Pierce was a friend of my brothers Max and Andy. At age 28 he was the oldest of our group. We made quite a contrast in our highly fashionable yet subdued attire compared to the flamboyant brightly dressed Werewolves. We were also a lot quieter.

The Werewolf girl who was named Phoebe gave Pierce a long hard look then smiled and licked her lips. Pierce is attractive with a narrow face, a sensuous mouth and dark heavily lashed eyes. Of course she noticed him. She’d no doubt try to have his clothes off, have her way with him then tear his throat out. Well, maybe not, but I didn’t want him to get her claws into a friend who was almost like a brother to me.

The males were Luke, Seth and Eldon. I’ll never forget their names. They were rude and loud and young. Had they been Vampires I might have thought they were fun, but since they were Werewolves I thought they were disgusting. Phoebe was just as bad with her crude laugh and dirty jokes.

Pierce and I played cards and stood on the back of the train in the night air. We mostly talked. I asked him about people we knew who’d gone out into the world – the young Vampires we’d grown up with. Pierce was on his way to New York. I was on my way to New York as well to meet my brother Valentine. After that we’d board a ship to London.

Conversations with the Werewolves were in bits and pieces of insults and crude jokes. Pierce’s father did business with their families. To keep the peace and keep favors in check he’d offered to let the young adults of the pack to ride with us. Also, by being with Vampires the Werewolves were more likely to behave themselves. At least that is what everyone thought.

On the second night, after a half of case of Champagne, the young Werewolf men, Luke, Seth and Eldon stripped naked right in front of us and said they were going out for a run. Phoebe decided to stay in. They ran out and I could hear them up on the roof of the train car howling, then down a side ladder and they were gone. Phoebe sat by the window looking at the full moon. She’d taken off her jacket and bodice down to a short-sleeved lace covered blouse. Long dark hair sprouted on her arms and hands. Her fingers grew claw like. Fur grew down the side of her face. She ignored us as a low growl came to the back of her throat as she watched for her pack mates.

Peirce and I watched three huge wolves run along the side of the train. The moonlight reflected off of their silvery gray fur. They were beautiful.

Then we heard horrifically loud shots. Our fellow passengers a few cars down were shooting at the wolves. Pierce ran out of the car. I could hear him shouting for the men with the guns to stop. Phoebe started to scream and scream and scream.

The next day we heard news of three young men found dead by the side of the tracks. The story was they had been drinking and had a fight on the top of the train and fell off after shooting each other.

I will never forget holding Phoebe in my arms and rocking her, trying to tell her that everything would be alright. I knew it would never be alright but I said it anyway.

For the next week as we made our way across the country she’d howl mournfully at night. The passengers said the train was haunted. I knew they’d brought on their own ghosts when they killed the wolves for no reason.

Werewolves and Vampires are predators but even we don’t partake in the senseless of killing animals for no reason other than target practice.

Pierce and I related the story to others but over the years we’ve kept a lot of the details to ourselves. It seems like so long ago. It was a long time ago. A long long time ago.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Strange Strangers on a Full Moon Night

Vampire Maman knows a thing or two about werewolves. I’m so honored to have her here today and tomorrow to tell you all a few stories. Werewolf stories…. 😀
Thank you, so much Juliette for being here and finishing up our Lupercalia fun. 😀

Strange Strangers on a Full Moon Night

A story from Juliette Kings (Vampire Maman))

Mars was exceptionally bright in the sky last night. The moon was less than full but still exceptionally bright.

This morning I dropped the kids off to school. Garret’s car is in the shop so mom gets to drive. Anyway, I drop them off behind some temporary classrooms (that have been there for 45 years) because Clara doesn’t want to have to walk by the large group of “Stoners” who hang out every morning at the logical drop off point. So this morning she tells me she over heard one of the Stoners saying “That woman stops and turns around every morning. Weird. I guess she doesn’t want to stay here.” They had no idea I was dropping off kids. Sigh.

So the moon, teens, clueless thoughts… what does that all lead to? It made me think of a distant memory of when my brothers Val, Aaron and I were teens.

Go back to 1873. We lived in a city that had regulairly flooded, burned down, flooded again and survived illness and lawlessness and all sorts of disasters. It was enough to make anyone want to leave, but instead people thrived and it grew. Railroads made kings. Agriculture was starting to boom. It was a city with growing art and culture and the new capitol building was almost finished. But to us it was home and our concerns were not those of adults or even most people. We were teens, comfortable in our own skin, a little less Victorian than most our age, a little more independent than most. My brothers and I lived in a tight knit community of Vampires, part of the Modern Vampire Movement. But you already know that.

One night that April, under a full moon, my brothers Aaron (age 17), Valentine (age 14) and I (age 13) were taking a stroll along the Sacramento River. We were always out looking for vagrants and activity from any riverboats. We were on the prowl, three well heeled kids who could use our innocence and charm to get in and out of any situation before our prey ever knew we were there.

With our stomachs full and our dark little souls throughly amused we walked home through a grove of trees on the edge of the riverbank. There we came upon a camp. Two figures were hunched over half a dozen large fish, I believe stripers or maybe steelhead. They grunted and tore at the fish. At first glance we thought they were coyotes or large dogs, but then we realized they were something else.

“Werewolves,” whispered Aaron holding his hand out to signal us to stay still.

We watched in fascination, with a bit of disgust, as the two turned back into their human form – a young man and a young woman. They were about our age and completely naked. He was skinny, unlike my muscular brothers. His skin was pale under the moonlight like the bellies of the fish he’d just devoured. She was also thin with ribs sticking out and knobby joints. Her grayish unhealthy looking skin was covered with red welts. Long dark hair hung below her waist. But what surprised us most was the hairless tail that hung down about 6 inches on the end of her spine.

I elbowed Aaron and he gave me a quick look that said “don’t move.”

“She has a tail,” Val whispered a little too loud. Aaron put his hand over his little brother’s mouth.

The Werewolves put on their clothes, plain and worn compared to our fashionable togs. We had a home and parents. These two were obviously strays just trying to survive their miserable condition.

Val and I wanted to approach the Werewolves but Aaron was against it. He said we should just let them be and they’d be dead more sooner than later. There was a prominent pack of well-heeled Werewolves in town but we had little to do with them and it was obvious that these strays were not part of their pack.

Occasionally my parents would deal with the Werewolves, but always held them at a distance and with considerable contempt. One thing that stood out about the well to do Werewolves was their fondness for velvet. No kidding. Those Werewolves loved their velvet.

This isn’t going to be a moral story where we went back and helped the young Werewolves. We went back and they were gone. None of our friends had ever seen them. We told our parents about them. In turn they mentioned the strays to the pack leader in town and he had never heard of the young Werewolves.

It was just one of those weird things. Ships that pass in the night.

I asked my friend Adam, who is a Werewolf, about the pair when I stopped by his studio this morning (he is a photographer by trade.) He’d never heard of them. The tail on the girl turned out to be something extremely rare, just like a tail on anyone who is remotely human like.

“Why didn’t you help them?” Of course he had to ask.

“I don’t know. We were just kids. We thought they were dangerous. Beside that, maybe they didn’t need or want help. My parents asked around. Nobody knew anything, or if they did they weren’t telling us about it. I’m talking both Werewolves and Vampires. Nobody knew anything.”

I knew there would be nothing online about them but I after I left Adam I checked anyway. There was nothing.

This story has no moral or reason behind it. Just a story of something that happened a long time ago that I’ll tell my kids about and maybe they can find a moral in it.

It might be a mystery forever. But I have a knack for finding people and things so you never know. You never know about anything, not really.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Lupercalia…Let the fun begin

It’s that time of the year again…
Yep the time for love and romance.
More importantly its the time for blood rituals and werewolves!!!

You got it Lupercalia

I’m keeping all the blood for myself. You don’t know how hard it is to get good blood. 😀 I’ve invited a few friends to spin a tale for us. I’m sharing those with you ;

Hope you all enjoy the merry making and great stories.


Today will talk about unibrows.
No, I’m not giving a beauty class.

Many cultures believe the person with the eyebrows that met in the middle were associated with deceit, bad-tempers, witchcraft, vampires.
Wow that’s a list!

The Greeks believed people with unibrows were vampires. Those in Germany, Iceland, and Denmark believed they were werewolves. A general consensus is unibrows brought bad luck, immortality, premature death, and violent tempers to those who have them.

The Blood Talisman

blood talisman banner


The Blood Talisman by Kim Culpepper


Book Name: The Blood Talisman

Book Genre: Urban Fantasy

Book release date: 05/21/2014

The Blood Talisman on Goodreads:

The Blood Talisman on Amazon:

The Blood Talisman coverI love this cover….

The Blood Talisman book blurb:

Alex Jacobs gets bitten by a werewolf, and that’s only the beginning of his problems. When his wife is kidnapped and turned into someone he doesn’t recognize anymore, he not only struggles with letting her go but, also with saving her life.

Selene is a powerful witch that not only teaches Alex the ways of the wolf but, also teaches him about restraint and purpose. Her shy innocence quickly attracts him to her and he struggles with being torn between two women. Their feelings for each other are constantly put to the test as a battle for the blood talisman, the key to immortality, is fought for power to some and a way to live forever for others. It is quickly learned that immortality comes at a price to all of humanity.
Doesn’t this sound awesome!!! I’m so going to read this. Stay tuned for a review. I’ve got some little pieces to entice you with too.

She sat on the grass, moving her hands up and down along it, as if she were calming it. The wind began to blow softly at first and then harder from within the forest. Selene’s long hair whipped Alex’s face behind her. He started to worry from not understanding what was happening. Suddenly the wind stopped and she stood and whistled. The whistle carried throughout the forest in the opposite direction of the wind. There was a moment of silence and then the sounds of tiny footsteps filled the forest. Alex took hold of Selene’s arm once again in a protective manner, and pulled her closer to him. He watched the forest and she watched him.

Ember grabbed Alex by the neck, lifting him off his feet. The bones within him started to break and his blood scorched angrily through him. She threw him down just as he finished changing into the wolf. He could smell the blood from the man lying on the floor, hear his heart slowly beating. He was very near death. Ember stood back and watched in enjoyment as he devoured the attendant.

Selene fell to the floor, laying her book bag into her lap and crying for Alex’s absence. She had come so far with him to have it end like this. She felt lost and confused without him. She no longer had focus and restraint. What hurt her the worst was that he hadn’t told her that he loved her. He had only done that once, before they hunted for the blood talisman. She sat there in shock and in emotional pieces, without words.

“I will rip your throat out, wolf. Then I’ll bed your wife and have your mistress killed. Don’t tempt me,” Ram snarled at him as he released his grip and Alex fell to the floor.

His breath began to increase with every inch closer to her face. Her eyes were like glass as they glared into his very soul.

OMG! I’m so going to read this.

About Kim:

Kim Culpepper is a horror lover! She is the author of The Blood Talisman, several short stories, and also runs Dark Child Create, a company the designs custom book covers. Her work has been published in Sanitarium Magazine, The Opening Line Literary Zine, and more.

Kim's headshot

Kim is a native of Colombus, Mississippi where she lives with her wonderful husband, two beautiful kids, and two mischievous cats.  Most of her writing is based in the south because she enjoys writing characters with accents and the South has plenty of people to inspire that.


Kim on Twitter:

Kim’s Blog:


Kim on Goodreads:



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Boxen Wolf

In the Schaumburg region of Germany werewolves are called Boxen wolves.

It’s believed they’ve made a pack with Satan that allows then to transform. They do this by buckling a strap around their waists. Satan gave them this strap.

Boxen wolves are known to be cunning and taking great delight in tormenting people.

If you suspect someone of being a Boxen wolf. You can tell for sure by holding a piece of steel over them. His or her true identity will be revealed by doing so.


**This Full Moon is called Frost Moon.**


I’m so happy to have Dylan J. Morgan here for Vampire Month. Morgan is one of my favorite authors, I’m sure he’s yours too. 

Excerpt of Bloodlines by Dylan J. Morgan
1917 A.D

Darkness—deep, foreboding, concealing. He’d hated it as a child, always wondering what horrors lay buried within its blackness, and even now—forty years after leaving adolescence behind—he continued to detest it. Despite having been turned into a vampire and recruited into a centuries-old coven, the secrets night kept unnerved him still.
The fact that there were werewolves out there, gathered just beyond the reach of his nocturnal eyesight, didn’t help his demeanor.
Dmitri swallowed but failed to dislodge the ball of mucus at the back of his throat. Shifting from one foot to the next, he ran the fingers of his right hand across the elegantly decorated pommel of his forty inch sword.
Beside him, his commanding officer stood deathly still. “Take it easy, soldier. They can smell your fear and that will give them an advantage.”
They had one anyway, as far as Dmitri was concerned. Monstrous creatures, most standing over eight feet when fully transformed, lycanthropes possessed a level of strength like no other beast he knew. They were cunning and powerful, callously indifferent, with a single desire to slaughter their enemies. He nodded; not so much in accord with his commander’s admonition but more an agreement of his own assessment: they had enough of an advantage already.
Thirty-six years ago Dmitri had been a farmer struggling to survive in barren lands forty miles south of Moscow. His children were starving, his wife threatening to leave him, and when six black-clad horsemen turned up on his doorstep one autumn evening he thought his problems had just become a hundred times worse. At that moment he’d had no idea that thirty minutes later his mortal troubles would disperse quicker than his arid soil when touched by tumultuous summer winds. As he stood in line with his new comrades, staring into thick darkness surrounding Palace Square, he thought briefly about his two loyal sons and long suffering wife. He hoped they rested peacefully and their pain prior to death hadn’t been too great. Their screams had told him different but Dmitri had always been one to expect the best.
It’s what he hoped for now.
Being in the front line of an undermanned brigade protecting the palace, the best one could wish for when faced with an onslaught of ravenous werewolves would be a quick, painless death.
Dmitri glanced to his left then right, along the column of vampires stretched across the square immediately in front of The Alexander Column. They looked as nervous as he: eyes wide in unconcealed fear, tongues licking the thin pink lines of vampiric lips. All lights around the courtyard had been extinguished, and Dmitri’s brethren appeared whiter than normal against the dark backdrop of the General Staff Building. Thirty vampires strong, possibly; he had no idea how many more guarded the interior of the palace but for the moment he wished he’d been assigned to that group. They, at least, were in the warmth of the building with any number of places to hide. According to the stories he’d heard these last few weeks there were no fewer than six escape tunnels out of the palace, although only the vampire hierarchy knew their locations. Searching the building for a concealed exit would be better than standing exposed in the courtyard waiting for hell to open up and spew forth its demons.
His rank within the coven assured he’d been placed in this precarious position. Not yet a vampire for four decades, his life compared little to those more superior, warriors guarding the palace walls. He looked young, felt energetic, but hadn’t yet lived as long as a mortal lifetime—a time span he hoped to exceed by many years.
The smell came first, rank and horrid—the odor of unwashed bodies and undigested meat. Dmitri’s guts tightened with fear. The sound of shoes scraping across cobblestones alerted him to the fact he wasn’t the only vampire backing away from the darkness.
“Hold your ground,” his commander whispered. “Anybody breaks ranks and I’ll kill them before the werewolves get a chance to.”
Dmitri’s knees locked. He told himself he was bracing for combat but knew terror had been what really froze his joints.
Not long after the stench of approaching lycanthropes drifted through the courtyard, came the first rumbling of a deep throated growl. It seemed to echo off the surrounding buildings, amplifying in volume and making it appear as though they were encircled. Hairs rose on Dmitri’s ashen skin, and a deeper chill settled in his blood.
“Shit,” someone whispered.
“Draw swords,” his commander uttered.
The sigh of hardened steel being removed from leather scabbards whispered throughout the courtyard, shortly followed by the harsh panting and heavy footfalls of approaching monsters.
Dmitri swallowed hard but the mucus remained. His eyes widened, and in the depth of his nocturnal vision the shadowy outlines of brutish lycanthropes disturbed the darkness. How many were there he had no idea—they advanced so quick he had no time to count—but their numbers were so great determining their quantity would be worthless. Freeing the left hand from his sword for just a moment, he instinctively drew the sign of the cross upon his body.
Clinging to the last vestiges of human memory, Dmitri prayed to the mortal’s God that his life would be spared.
Steel clattered to the cobblestones. Dmitri turned his head as one of the vampires sprinted towards the palace, his defensive position abandoned. For a brief second Dmitri felt like following him, but realized almost immediately that even if he survived the impending lycanthropic onslaught the coven would behead him for his spinelessness.
“Coward,” his commander whispered.
The superior vampire didn’t chase the deserter. Dmitri understood why, and the reason gripped him with a sickening twist of fear: the werewolves were too close.
“Good luck, men,” the commander said. “Defend the coven with your lives.”
Raising his sword Dmitri stared in eternal horror at the shapes charging out of darkness wallowing around the staff building. He’d seen a few werewolves during his short time in the coven, but nothing like this. Monstrous bipedal wolves hurtled from the shadows, thick thigh muscles propelling them forward, arms outstretched towards the vampires with sharp talons extended. Dmitri had yet to see the damage they could do, but he’d been told many stories of werewolves disemboweling vampires in a single swipe of their razor-sharp claws. For the moment though he focused on the eyes piercing the blackness—fiery red as if the very depths of hell itself burned in the creatures’ minds.
Dmitri grunted loudly, a feeble attempt to join in the determined battle cry of defending vampires.
He ignored the line of brave vampires that broke ranks to engage the approaching monsters, and instead locked his vision on one brutish lycanthrope charging for him. One sweep of your blade—right to left, below and upwards—should be enough to rent this hellish creature in two.
The moment of truth had come and he wondered how much good his limited training would do.
His commander launched his counterattack on a werewolf. In less than ten seconds the three hundred year old vampire was being ripped to pieces on the cobblestones.
Dmitri stepped forward, raised his sword in readiness, and only then did he notice the second wave of lycanthropes leaping off the old slate roofs of the surrounding buildings to join the battle.
Fear solidified the ball of mucus in his gullet. His bladder released its contents.
Large claws sliced through his flesh, assaulting his nerve endings with burning agony. As cold blood poured from his rent body, Dmitri wondered if his wife and children would forgive him if they ever met again.

Bloodlines is a novella by Dylan J. Morgan and book one of the Blood War Trilogy, which details the early battles of a centuries-old supernatural war between vampires and werewolves. Beginning in the late thirteenth century, when vampires betrayed lycanthropes, the war has raged for mortal generations in the hidden darkness of man’s cities, obscured by the conflicts mankind has fought.
Introducing a cast of intriguing characters, this opening novella travels to many picturesque locations such as England, Austria, France, and New Zealand, culminating in modern day battles in Germany and Italy. Spanning centuries and continents, Bloodlines has been described as “The raw material for your nightmares.”

To celebrate Mari Wells’ Vampire Month in July, free eBook copies of this novella are now available. Simply like this blog post or leave a comment, and Dylan J. Morgan will be in touch to arrange delivery of your free copy of the first installment of a gripping supernatural series.

You can find Dylan J. Morgan at




Smashwords Author Page Author Page

I want to say Thanks to Mr. Morgan.

Readers, if you haven’t read this series yet. . . leave a comment, I’ll be connecting you with a free copy of this amazing series. 😀

Werewolf Looks

The Wolf's Moon

While in human form werewolves look like normal men and women.

They don’t fear sunlight or religious objects. They may be restless or melancholy. But their appearance wouldn’t give away their secret.

Ancient Traditions describe the werewolf while in wolf form to be inseparable from the animal. He runs on all fours. After removing all clothing and shoes the transformation will begin. If killed in wolf form he’d transform back into a naked human.
Wolfs playing

Those who didn’t want to become a werewolf will suffer shame and disgust, after a transformation for their deeds. Some may wish they die, they may try to commit suicide. However the Grim Reaper can only by certain means.

Those who wished to become werewolves. They may have become one through: incantation , potions, or spells. They enjoy their strength and ability to strike fear in the hearts of those who hear their howls on the full moon.

Some modern movies and novels describe the werewolf as a shape-shifter wolf-like being. He walks on two legs, is hairy and fanged. While shape-shifting the clothes and shoes are ripped or shredded. This werewolf is usually barefoot, and slightly clothed as it fills its lust for blood and flesh on the full moon.

**This month’s Full Moon is named Awakening Moon.**

Vampire Werewolves 2

Jé Rouge

In Haitian lore there’s a werewolf-vampire hybrid called Jé Rouge. (the “Jé” is pronounced “J”)
Jé Rouge means “red eyed.”
When someone evil dies he can rise again as a wolf that only feeds on human blood.
There’s only one way to destroy it. Its head must be cut off by a new sexton’s spade. The head must be thrown into a river.


Ancient Greek monstorous Vampire called mormo or the “terrible One.”
In groups they were called “Mormolykeia” “the terrible wolves.”
It can shape-shift into a beautiful young lady and lure handsome men, draining them of their blood and eating their flesh.
If the mormo can find Attractive men. It settles for the elderly and children.


People in the Breton area of France believe in the Bleiz-Garv (pronounced Blaze-Gar-IF).
This creature occurs when a werewolf dies. It will rise to be a vampire.
Bleiz-Garv means “cruel wolf.”