Werewolf

Frank watched the body writhe on the floor, flesh twisting and reshaping before his eyes. "It's horrible," he murmured.

"Still, it's the only way," said May, behind him. "'Suffer not a witch to live.' He was an abomination."

"It's... how he reacted to the silver. It was like chemicals. Acid. He... burned."

"It's a very painful death," May said. She rested a hand lightly on Frank's shoulder. "He was... your friend, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"How did you know?" Frank asked. "I'd never suspected-"

"No," May gurgled, her speech garbled by her growing wolf's snout. "You never did."