The first pack I check out is Silverfur Howlers. Knowing my luck, the next one will be Sanguis Warriors, but for once, I’m pleasantly surprised. The second group of wolves I spied on the map, the one on the western outskirts of Pittsburgh, belongs to the Blood Moon pack.
The moon is full tonight, so it's no surprise that I come across them in a forest, all twelve of them in wolf form. How do I know they belong to the Blood Moon pack? Somehow, they dyed their paws to be blood-red. I don't know if their human palms are affected too or not, but I suspect that isn't the case.
I am not going to attack tonight. All I’m here for is surveillance. Before I can tackle a werewolf—which might literally be the case—I will need a few supplies from my office.
Three of the wolves are much larger than the others. One of those has to be the alpha.
Some of the wolves are nipping at each other. At first, I think it’s playful, but soon, they’re growling and biting. It’s savage, and I watch the larger ones, waiting for one of them to interfere and put a stop to the nonsense.
One of them barely moves his head, but I think it’s a nod. The other two large wolves take off running, and they body slam the wolves on top until they’re knocked off. Others come and pin the ones on the bottom.
The wolf who barely nodded saunters over to him. He’s sleek and graceful, almost moving more like a giant cat than a giant canine. He howls, clearly talking to them, but I’m not a wolf whisperer. I have no idea what he’s saying.
Some of the pinned wolves begin to howl, but one stomp of the alpha’s paw on the ground is enough to silence them. The pinned wolves are released, and they form a circle around one of the wolves to be body slammed.
The alpha slinks forward. Without warning, he leaps high into the air, and his teeth sink into the sole wolf's throat. In the light of the full moon, I can see the blood staining his fur.
The alpha retreats, and the other wolves descend on the injured wolf. There’s no doubt in my mind. They killed him.
As terrifying as this raw display of power is, I can’t just turn tail and leave. Gradually, a few at a time leave, most of them shifting back to their human forms before exiting the clearing.
The alpha doesn’t. Not only is he the last one to leave, but he maintains his wolf form.
I do not want to follow him while he’s in this form, but I have no choice. If I had brought along my weapons… No. All he would have to do is howl, and all of those werewolves who just left would be here immediately to take me down.
Ah, wait. He isn’t alone. There’s another wolf there, and the two howl softly before they shift into their human forms.
The alpha is a tall man, built like an ox or a linebacker. His brown hair is a mess on his head, and he has a cropped beard and trimmed mustache. I can’t see his eye color from here, but his jaw is firm. His nose is large, and it’s only as he turns away from me that I notice he has a scar on his neck.
He hurries to a car. I don’t often drive, opting to walk most of the time, but I’ve been driving last night and tonight. When you’re dealing with werewolves, you want a quick getaway. No one can outrun a werewolf.
I memorize his car's make and model and license plate. Then, I hurry to my car. I can't find his, but that's all right. With a license plate, I'll be able to find him.
By the time I return home after trying to find his old Mercury Cougar anywhere. No matter. I grab my laptop and do some good, old-fashioned sleuthing. A lot of being a bounty hunter is a lot like being a private investigator.
Ah. There he is. Wyatt Dane. He’s a used car salesman. Honestly, that strikes me as hilarious. A bloodthirsty werewolf alpha is a used car salesman of all things.
Tomorrow night, I’ll be ready just in case I can get him alone. If there’s another meeting with them all, then I’ll wait for another day. Patience. With a job like this, I need to be patient. Otherwise, I’ll not only fail the client. I’ll end up dead.
Silver knuckles? Check. Crossbow? Check. Dagger? Check. Gun? Check. Silver bullets? Check but I only have two left.
Muttering a curse, I rip off the flowers of five calendulas and shove them in my boots and pockets. The orange multi-petaled flowers are pretty, but they’re also full of fragrance and will hopefully help to mask my scent.
In addition to learning the alpha’s name, I also discovered that he’s single, lives alone, and his address. Unfortunately, he has a lot of land, plenty of acres for a werewolf to roam… or werewolves. I drove by the place earlier today to scope it out. His land has a lot of bushes and two lines of trees that basically act as fences, so there are plenty of spots for a werewolf to hide.
It’s disgusting what I did next, but I parked a block away and then walked across the land far beyond his property and made my way back. The closer I got to his house, the more I would dump some of the contents of my bottle.
Diluted dog urine.
Don’t ask how I acquired it, but I’ve heard that the urine of other animals bother shifters. With it diluted, I’m hoping they’ll feel discomfort enough to want to leave without them realizing just why they’re feeling that way. It’s a long shot, but I’m going to do my best to stack the deck in my favor.
I'm ready to go, and I head out and park a few blocks from his house. It's about four in the afternoon. His shift ended a half-hour ago. If he comes straight home, he'll be there in a few minutes.
Which means I have about a minute to reach his house first. I move swiftly, not on the sidewalk but on the land like earlier, and I approach his house from the south. There’s something else I have that will ensure he transforms. After all, once he’s captured, he’s not going to want to shift for the leprechaun.
It took driving around for hours, about half a tank of gas, but I found it.
Roadkill.
Fresh.
As in, the animal hasn't even died yet.
There’s nothing that can be done for the poor rabbit. I don’t know how he is holding on for so long, but there’s nothing that can be done. I’m such a bleeding heart that I even took the animal to the vet to make sure he couldn’t be saved. He is actually a she, but I’m right. It’s only a matter of time.
Her small frame pulsates with each heartbeat, and I hate to have to offer her up, but at least then she won’t feel any more pain. I put her down far enough from the alpha’s back door that he’ll have room to shift. The tree lines will prevent any of his neighbors from seeing. I have no doubt he’ll want to eat in his wolf form versus his human one.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and I race back to the tree line just as his car pulls up.
A car door slams, and I wince from the loud sound piercing the silence. At least there’s only one door slam. He’s alone. Good.
His shoes don’t make much sound against the pavement, but then he stops. I sure hope he’s sniffing. Yes, he’s coming into view. His eyes light up as he spies the dying rabbit.
Like the predator he is, he races over, on two legs and then four, transforming as he runs. The moment he starts to feast, I line up my crossbow and take the shot.
The stake is imbued with sulfate gas. Once the stake pierces the skin, the gas is expelled out the back end, and the werewolf should take a nap.
The gas releases as planned. The alpha staggers as planned. The alpha glances all around and makes eye contact with me instead of going down.
So not as planned.
I really don’t want to, but I shift the crossbow to one hand and grab my gun with the other. The alpha is far too close, and the shot might kill him at this range, but if I don’t pull the trigger…
I do.
The alpha falls.
The gun still trained on him, I approach, watching and then smiling as his chest rises and falls. He’s alive but unconscious.
Swiftly, I put a muzzle over his face and then struggle to put handcuffs on him. They aren’t just any kind of handcuffs. They’re magic dampening cuffs that I acquired from a former guard at the Magical Prison. Not every evil paranormal creature is hunted, slayed, or executed. I’m not sure how it’s determined if the creature goes there or is executed, but I’m grateful for the cuffs. Now, Wyatt Dane, alpha of the Blood Moon pack, is stuck in his werewolf form.
Like a jackrabbit, I retrieve the tarp I put into one of the trees earlier today. Getting said tarp beneath the alpha isn’t easy. Dragging him all the way to my car isn’t going to happen.
A low growl sounds behind me, followed by five more in even intervals.
I straighten and turn around, already bringing up my gun and my dagger. Ten sets of amber eyes stare me down. The entire rest of the pack is here and ready to tear me limb from limb.
“Hi, guys, girls. Nice to meet you. Don’t worry. This so isn’t what you think it is. I mean, you can hear his heartbeat. He’s not dead. He’s alive but sick. Yes, sick! I was going to take him to a friend of mine. He’ll be able to help him—”
The werewolves descend.
I’m a goner.