Jack Dalton, Monster Hunter, The Complete Serial Series (1-10): The History of the Magical Division

by T S Paul

  "One hundred-eighty-three at the first of the year. That's about four clans of Pack with a few stragglers thrown in. If you count hangers-on and the older folks, we've got double that here unofficially. I told you this was a refuge, not a reservation," Robert pointed out.

  I could feel the others as soon as we stepped inside. The bar was simple and to the point. A real bar took up the longest wall with three small tables and some stools. No pool, no darts, no dancing. It was all about the drinking and Werewolves. A large man sat at the bar with what appeared to be two big dogs at his feet. I knew better.

  “You bring me to all the nice places Robert,” I commented pointing to the wolves on the floor.

  “I thought we weren’t doing this anymore, Addison? This man is on our side,” Robert told the man at the bar.

  Reaching down, the man called Addison patted the wolf on his right, “He’s a stranger to us. Why bring him here? We know he’s FBI.”

  I studied the wolves on the floor as I prepared myself. They didn’t look like they were about to attack but with Weres looks could be deceiving. All I was armed with was my two modified sidearms, a couple of knives, and a silver nitrate grenade.

  Carefully I slid one hand into my pocket gripping the handle of a knife. “There was a Were attack in downtown St. Louis last week. Two innocents were bitten. I’ve been sent by Washington to find the one that attacked and either arrest him or put him down.”

  “Put him down? What gives you the right to just kill one of us out of hand, Mr. G man?” The man Robert called Addison slid out of his chair and approached me. His arms were slowly doubling in size while claws formed on his hands.

  “The FBI created a special branch for dealing with Paranormals. I’m sanctioned by Congress and President Long in this. It’s my way or the highway. You know the standard policy on what the regular FBI considers rogue Weres. Do you really want to die? I need to bring him or her in. It might the only way to save all of you from detection,” I explained.

  “Now you threaten all of us with death. Who will know if I just kill you now and dump the car you came in with? We don’t give up our people, Agent. We’d rather die first.” Addison paused and glanced at Robert who only stood there. He made the tiniest motion toward me with his hand. “Take him.”

  Like I practiced, my hand came out of my pocket knife in hand. It was flying through the air toward the local Alpha as I drew my pistols. I kept them in a cross draw under my arms for easy access. I fired to the left even as the gun came loose of the holster, hitting the Pack member just now getting out of his chair. My other weapon fired at the first charging Werewolf. A miss.

  The two wolves charged straight at me so fast that most humans wouldn't have even seen them. But I'm not most humans, and I was trained both by the FBI and my Alpha Big Ron.

  My guns were loaded with silver, but they were only every other round. Lead bullets will just piss off a Were unless you hit them in a vital spot like the head or heart. Then you have a few minutes more before they jump up and kill you. But silver, silver burns like the fires of hell and slows the regenerative process enough for the wound to kill. Damage a Were with silver sufficiently, and they might die.

  I dodged a claw swipe from my left and hit a Werewolf with my right pistol. The impact of the silver-plated weapon momentarily confused the Wolf. It’s nose stinging it let out a yip and retreated just a bit to give me time to fire at the one on the left. A silver bullet this time it pierced the wolf’s hide and struck near the head.

  Alpha Addison attacked the very moment I fired the first round. He transformed into his battle form almost instantly. My friends back in Texas used to tell me that the process took more than a minute and was excruciatingly painful. Addison came straight at me claws extended. I braced myself. This was going to hurt.

  The world slowed as time seemed to stop. I could feel immense pressure in the air. Addison froze. I could see his eyes moving as if in panic, but his body stood immobile. The others were in similar states of stillness.

  Robert spoke up, “This ends now.”

  Slipping my pistols back into their holsters I looked at Robert. He wasn’t waving his hands or muttering curses like a Witch would. He just stood there staring at the local Alpha.

  "I bring someone to you to help, and this is how you repay me? Addison, I thought we were friends. This man, this agent of the FBI has connections. You know who I work for. Didn't you wonder how I was in a position to help the FBI? This is now Council business. Attacking representatives of the government doesn't get us anywhere. Rogues make us all look bad, now change back so we can talk or complete your challenge," Robert explained.

  The amount of power it would take to control four Weres at once boggled my mind. Who exactly was Robert Moore and what Council was he speaking of?

  Alpha Addison started shrinking. I could hear moist sounding pops as his battle form shrank, and the human form emerged. Two of the other Weres began transformations as well.

  Stepping to one side and kneeling, I checked on the man I shot first. He was writhing on the floor but was at least breathing. "Hold on, buddy."

  Where the bullet hole in his chest had been now showed cleanly healed skin. The bullet remained inside. “Do you know where it went in? We could try cutting it out?”

  "Leave him alone Jack. The first time he transforms the lead will pop right on out by itself. Our bodies don't like impurities. He'll be uncomfortable for a few days, but he'll survive," Robert told me. "Come back over here please."

  The best word to describe the Weres in front of me was naked. All three of the ones that attacked me were just naked humans.

  “Getting yourself an eyeful, are you?” The former Wolf was now a human woman and staring right at me.

  Weres, as a rule, were blasé about nudity and other human morals. They usually only paid faint lip service to the laws surrounding them. So, naked was pretty typical in Were society.

  "Put some clothes on, and we can talk like civilized beings," Robert ordered.

  “Like we’re civilized, Consul Moore,” Addison replied.

  A sudden pressure filled the air. It pressed down on everyone in the room including me.

  Addison held up his hand as if in surrender. “Stop, please. I get it.”

  The pressure relented and everyone in the room sighed in relief. Grabbing a stack of clothing from behind the bar the Weres got dressed.

  “The rogue?” Robert asked.

  Addison shook his head. "Not one of my boys. An outsider. Lone wolf. He said he was passing through from roundabout Jackson way down in Tennessee. They run a high stakes poker game in the storage yard at Union Station almost every weekend. He claimed he could win and promised us a twenty percent cut for room, board, and protection. If we'd have known he was a biter… Well, you know. He was already here and under my protection when the word went out. I'd heard rumors about the kill squad at Union Station, but it didn't sound real. You remember how it was back in the day. We used to run that place. We had respect. Even the Dons didn't stand in our way then."

  Robert grimaced, “Times change.”

  "Yes, they do. The rogue is up at the safe house. Macintosh Hill Road down in the lowest part. One of my boys will show you. Robert, I swear to you, we didn't know. Please don't hurt my people for this. Please?" The Alpha begged.

  “He’s not in charge of this little mission. That would be me. At the moment I don’t care about your internal politics or whatever Robert is in your world. I only need the rogue,” I demanded.

  Robert looked at me, “Kid…”

  “No. I told you about my precarious position in the FBI. The regular boys hate me with a passion right now. If this case gets bumped to them, they’ll hit this town with military precision. Do you really want that? I’m your best chance at living. Kill two birds with one stone. My job and your town. Paranormal rights are what this is all about,” I replied.

  Addison pointed to the man I tried to help. “Take him to the safe house. If you
have to put down the rogue, do it.”

  To me, he explained. "Hollywood here will take you down there. Go in heavy. A cornered wolf…"

  "... is a dangerous wolf." I finished for him. "Yes, I know. Thank you, Alpha Addison."

  "It's Foley. Addison Foley. Believe it or not, I founded this town. Things just aren't like they used to be." Addison turned away for a moment. "Do we have more to say, Robert?"

  Robert looked from him to me and then back again. “No. Let this be a warning to you though. Tell us next time you have a … visitor. This might have been a takeover move by Jackson. Did you think of that?”

  Addison looked shocked, “And I fell for it. We’ll be more careful.”

  The Were called Hollywood stood at the door and motioned for us to follow him.

  Macintosh Hill Road was one of the worst dirt roads I'd ever been on, and that's saying something since I was from Texas. There were ruts and giant holes at just about every turn.

  “How does anyone even use this road?” I asked as my van lurched to one side yet again.

  “It’s not that bad. You should see it in winter,” Hollywood replied.

  Robert chose to sit this one out and stayed in Foley with the Alpha. I winced at the thought of it. He got scarier and scarier the more time I spent with him.

  Having seen Missouri winters before from the Illinois side, I could only nod. I found it ironic that I didn't know about this little enclave when I was here as a kid. Some secrets really are secret it seems.

  “Why Hollywood?” I asked.

  The man next to me laughed, “I went west in my youth and worked as a stuntman for some early films. Buster Keaton was a genius. Those films were so much fun to do. But with the stock market crash and then the war, the industry wasn’t what it used to be. The not-aging thing doesn’t help either. When I came home, they started calling me that, and it stuck. The humans around here all think I'm the town drunk."

  "That's a good cover. Robert didn't mention it, but I'm part of a Pack out in Texas. One of the few humans ever to do it,” I explained.

  “So I’m not crazy then! You move fast for a human. Good to know,” Hollywood replied.

  “What sort of place is this safe house we’re going to?” I asked.

  “It’s in a low spot near the cliffs. We stuck a small travel trailer painted green up against the rock wall and planted trees and bushes to shield it from the road. It doesn’t get used very often by the Pack,” Hollywood replied.

  I waved my hand in a circle. “Can you expand a bit on that? What’s the terrain like, things like that? I don’t have the advantage of fur and claws.”

  “You must be one badass human to do this for a living! What other Paras have you taken on?” Hollywood asked.

  I steered the van around an unusually large pothole and glanced at the redneck Werewolf. I just knew that Anastasia would laugh at this report. "Most of my missions are classified, but I was in New Jersey last week and tangled with a Sea Monster.”

  “Now I know you’re lying to me. Those things don’t exist.” Hollywood pointed through the windshield at a wooded area. “Just around the bend is the spot.”

  “You can check the national papers if you like but it was there. Seriously though, anything I need to be concerned about up there?” I asked.

  Hollywood scratched his head, pursed his lips, and looked to the right out of the window. “A few Packs have been using this side of the property for construction dumping so you might run into some piles of… stuff. There’s a creek just past the hedge at the opposite edge of the lot. Watch out for snakes. It’s the season for them out here.”

  Slowing down, I parked just off the road but out of sight of the safe house. “You’re just full of fun things aren’t you, Hollywood? I want you to stay with the van. I need to load up.”

  I hopped out of the van and opened up the back. Hunting Weres was a tricky proposition. They heal so fast if you don't put them down the first time you can wind up dead. The mechanics that modified the van added a few crazy modifications. My favorite was the pull-out floorboards that gave me easy access to my weapons. I didn't like to show off what was in here, but I figured if I told Robert to keep it a secret, he'd lay down the law on these people. Just writing about him was going to take all day.

  “Holy Crap! You planning on starting a war or what?” Hollywood cried from over my shoulder.

  Gone was my suit. I'd already pulled out my modified flak jacket and slipped it over my fatigue shirt. Cargo pants replaced the slacks along with high topped leather boots. My jacket looked like something a hunter would wear out in the field, but mine took its inspiration from something the U.S. Eighth Army came up with during the Demon War.

  Soldiers and sailors were at risk from the blowback of shrapnel being fired by artillery and flak guns at Demon Bats and other monsters. They created specially designed vests lined with nylon fibers and manganese plates. The main issue was they were heavy at twenty-two pounds and couldn't stop a direct shot or claw attack. The newer version was what I was wearing. Similar in design but lined with fiberglass reinforced panels called Doron, this vest was lighter and much studier. Unlike the standard issue for the military, mine was leather.

  My sidearms stayed where they were, but I added a long silver knife at my hip and pulled out my Thompson. Unlike the gun the sheriff had in New Jersey, mine could use the drum magazines. It could also use the military ‘box' magazines. I was now armed for bear... er, wolf.

  As an afterthought, I grabbed the helmet I picked up in a surplus store. It was called an Adrian helmet. The French used it as a mainline helmet, but I'd had it painted in US Army colors with ‘FBI’ added to the back. This way if there was anyone out there besides myself they might see it.

  “Stay here. If something happens to me, take the van back to Robert and your Alpha. Do not try to take the rogue by yourself. Understand?” I asked Hollywood.

  The Were nodded with wide eyes and leaned back against the van as I carefully worked my way across the field and into the trees. As a teenager, I'd spent a lot of time in the woods of Illinois and Texas with my friends, so stalking prey wasn't new to me. The FBI Academy I went to actually taught the basics of what I was doing, but they really didn't have a clue. Maybe that part will improve now that they were actively recruiting Paranormals for teaching there.

  True to his word the camper was tucked in under the eaves of a dirt and rock wall cliff. I’d checked and was sure to approach the place from downwind. Weres could smell the making of a sandwich a block away if the wind were just right.

  Unless the place had a trap or back door, he was stuck inside. That worried me because Big Ron always told me that a trapped beast was way more dangerous than one that was not.

  Setting up toward the front of the place I yelled out, "Hello the camper! This is the FBI. Come out with your hands up, and this won't get messy!"

  I could see the curtains flicker and the door opened. A voice yelled back, “Come out to my death? You G-men are all alike.”

  “I represent the Magical Division, I just want to talk. I’m here about the guys you changed at Union Station,” I shouted back.

  “That was an accident! You’ll never take me alive!” The trapped Were yelled.

  Cursing under my breath, I pulled back the handle of the Thompson and pulled out the grenade. From inside the camper, I could hear growls and cries of pain as he started his change. The fact it was taking so long was a good sign he wasn't an Alpha. Pulling the pin, I reared back and tossed it through the open door.

  Unlike standard Mk2 grenades, this one was constructed of a silver alloy. The knobs on the little pineapple shaped explosive were there so it could be gripped easier. It shouldn't kill the rogue, but it was going to hurt. A lot.

  There was a loud pop sound followed by a small explosion. Unlike the movies, these grenades were designed for maximum damage, not power. But it was followed by an even bigger detonation as the propane cylinder exploded as well.

 
Staying as low as possible I approached the wrecked camper. Chunks of burning aluminum and insulation were scattered in every direction. I could hear cries of pain as I stepped closer.

  The rogue lay where the floor used to be. His transformation was almost complete. But he had explosive wounds over half his body, and they weren't closing. Silver fragments were everywhere.

  "I didn't want to do this. We actually have facilities to hold Weres now!" I muttered as I cleared debris from the man.

  The man’s body never made it to full transformation. What little there was of him undamaged was changing back to normal. If a body bleeding out could be considered normal.

  “... me.” I barely heard the words over the fire crackling around me.

  “What was that you said?” I asked as I leaned in close to the man’s head.

  “...” He said the words so silently I couldn’t hear him.

  Getting down on my knees I could see he had lacerations over half his face. Both eyes were gone and half his right arm. Placing my ear right on top of his face I listened.

  Faintly he spoke again, “Kill me. Kill me. K…”

  I pulled back in shock sitting on my knees. There were hospitals that I could take… My head dropped down onto my chest. There was no way this man could use them. They didn't take Weres, and if he survived, local law would put him down at the first chance they got.

  From the stories that the locals and Robert said, this man was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He may have been here to stir up trouble, and I would investigate the Pack group in Tennessee to find out, but he didn't deserve the pain this was causing.

  Getting to my feet, I pulled out my automatic pistol and put two shots in his head and another through the heart. Watching carefully, I looked to see if his healing factor continued to work. Patting the body down I removed his wallet and personal items. I'd need them for the report.

  “Did you get him?”

  I looked up and over my shoulder at Hollywood. He’d driven my van up and was standing not ten feet away. I nodded, “Will your people take care of the burial? The FBI will pay for it.”