From The Satan Sleuth #2: The Werewolf Walks Tonight by MICHAEL AVALLONE.   Warner Paperback Library, paperback original, December 1974.

MICHAEL AVALLONE The Werewolf Walks Tonight

   … a wet suit, the dark, rubberized costume particular to scuba divers, frogmen, and anyone engaged in the pursuit of aquamarine adventure.   (Page 39)

   Philip St. George had not come to Fletcherville unprepared and half cocked.    (Page 43)

   … the cheap gold lettering on the cover which proclaimed it as the New Testament, St. James Version.    (Page 45)

   Besides being Fletcherville’ s only and most successful banker …    (Page 48)

   There was devils walking in the world, all right.    (Page 55)

   Dean Williams’s Good Book, the St. James version …   (Page 78)

   It was in all the ancient papers, the only known weapon against a lycanthrophobe–    (Page 80)

   There was no saliva in her mouth for she had yet to have any water. Her tongue was a dead lizard in her gullet.   (Pages 83-84)

   Dawson was bound to put two and two together and get a positive four. If he got five, well, forget that, too.    (Page 97)

   No one who saw him could not help feeling sorry for the stranger…   (Page 103)

   On his feet, dark canvas sneakers loomed, the track model.    (Page 107)

   His face was expressionless, his mind perfectly and unwaveringly resolute. He had licked up the scent of the Fletcherville Demon at last. Once and for all. Forever. The moment was electrifyingly tense. There was a high, sharp keen to the atmosphere, as if the rhythms of the spheres of the universe were blending in a moment of truth.    (Page 119)

   Nausea climbed upward from her stomach, joined the horror in her brain, fusing electrically, exploding once more in a final burst of stupefying terror.    (Page 127)

   When the thing snarled, a snarl compounded of rage and pain, and dropped back, releasing its savage hold on his own shoulders, the sound was something joyful to Philip St. George. Like a bugle sounding a cavalry charge or the “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah. Not even the mammoth grizzly bear of the North can stand up to a frontal assault on his small testicles.    (Page 140)

— Collected by Bob Briney and reprinted from his DAPA-Em zine, Contact Is Not a Verb #63, March 1991.