Scarlett Leblanc
Welcome to Werewolf Country
Chapter 1
“Johnson,” Agent Cruz barked. “Can't you have a little discretion? That's disgusting.”
Victoria Johnson was sitting in the conference room of the FBI building in downtown Los Angeles with a cup of coffee and a red velvet donut in her hand. “My caloric intake is none of your business. How's that for discretion?” She took a bite of the luscious red chocolate, and savored the rich flavor. “Let's get on with it.”
Cruz was the kind of woman who never ate anything more than a carrot. She walked around with her nose curled up, thinking about how everything disgusted her. Victoria Johnson considered her the embodiment of everything that was wrong with the world, and she loved being big, black and beautiful.
“Just keep it to a minimum.” Victoria took another bite. “Today we're talking about cattle mutilation.”
“You're gonna send me out to investigate crop circles and aliens?”
“I'm gonna send you someplace that fits your talents.”
“Fine. Send the briefing to my email.” Johnson stormed out of the conference room leaving a distraught Andrea Cruz to sort out her actions. She didn't care what the woman thought. She'd taken down drug rings, and hackers. Victoria was suited for a lot more than conspiracy theories. Cruz never took her seriously.
Chapter 2
Agent Johnson's flight would leave from LAX to Orlin, Montana at 4 that afternoon. It wouldn't arrive there until 6 pm. the next day. The flight should've taken less than three hours, but the city was so remote she had to have four layovers, and switch to a single engine. By the time she got there, she was so tired she could barely move.
She watched the mountainous countryside pass her by as she worked her way down the highway. She was furious. There was nothing there except rocks, plants and animals. Everyone knew the only thing killing those cows was wolves, but for some reason people seemed to think there was something to it. She'd seen the creepy documentaries and the weird tabloid rumors. People had been talking about this for decades. There were even strange crop circle markings that had been found under the bodies.
She pulled into the lot of her run down motel, noticing the sign advertising their shiny new color TVs. This was an insult.
Victoria grabbed her keys and walked over to the room. It was basic—exactly what she expected. The furnace was right under the curtains at the front of the room, and it took more than a half an hour to get it to work. She had to turn the gas on and press the ignition to light the pilot, but it just wasn't working. In the end, she had to find a pack of matches in her bag and throw it into the thing.
She wanted to sleep, and that was the only thing she could think about, but she had to get something to eat and look over the case file, so she let the room warm ups so that she could find something to eat.
There was a diner in the parking lot across the street, which from what she could tell was the home of the only businesses in town. She was going to kill Cruz for this.
She walked into the little restaurant and a big inbred blond woman came up to her. “How many?” Her voice had the nasal drawl of somebody with sinus congestion.
“Just me.”
“Booth or table?”
“Something in the back.” This was going to be terrible. Victoria could already tell.
“Booth or table?” she repeated.
“If you have a booth, I'll take it.”
“No booths. Just tables.”
“What? The place is empty. Take me to my table, and be quick. I'm starving.” The woman looked at her with glazed over cattle eyes then just turned around and led her to a booth near the front of the restaurant. Victoria just shook her head and went with the flow.
“Don't mind her,” a man said from the booth behind her. “That's just Josie.”
Victoria turned around to see a blond man in his late 20s. He looked like something out of a John Wayne movie that had been filmed on a runway in Milan.
“She's something else,” Victoria replied.
“It's a birth defect. Her mother drank a lot when she was pregnant.”
“Ah.” Victoria went back to her menu even though she knew she was getting the chicken fried steak.
“I'm Jimmy Hawk.” He offered her his hand and she reluctantly shook it. “You must be the FBI agent.”
“Agent Johnson. Everyone knows?”
He laughed. “There's only a few of us.”
“In the whole town?”
“Think of it as a rest stop.”
Victoria laughed. “You have a grocery store, a restaurant and a motel. How do you live?”
“We order stuff online and drive to Billings. It's only four hours away.”
Victoria shook her head. “It's animals, you know. This is a waste of my time.”
“Oh, I know.” Finally a pragmatist. “But at least you could have some fun before you do.”
“Mr. Hawk, what do you mean fun?”
“Here's my number.” He passed her a piece of paper, and she watched his perfect butt fit right into his tight jeans.
Chapter 3
Victoria couldn't believe the food she'd have to stomach during her time there—defrosted steak and watery instant mashed potatoes. They made everything in the microwave. She had to get out, but she had a lot to do first. The file said that she would have to speak with two of the locals. A man named Fred Sanders—just like the colonel—made the initial complaint. He'd been calling for more than a decade saying that his cows were being killed. Even though it had only happened once every few years, he was stubborn, and it was his persistence that had spurred the investigation.
He'd been writing angry letters since the 70’s, and having her come there was probably his greatest achievement. The next morning when she got into her tiny car and made the journey out to the Sanders ranch, she was determined to disappoint him.
She pulled up to the little yellow house, which was barely standing, and walked up to the screen door. It shot open and a man as old as the dinosaurs appeared on the other side.
“Mr. Sanders?”
“It's about time. Follow me.” He turned around and walked back into the house. She followed him inside. It smelled like mildew and thousands of years worth of cigarettes. She found him sitting at an ancient dining room table with a bottle of whiskey and two cups of coffee sitting next to him. She sat down and waited for him to start ranting.
He poured a little shot into his coffee and took a sip. “You want some?”
“No thank you, Mr. Sanders. We're not supposed to accept anything.”
“Fine. Now, I know you just want to make this quick so that you can write me off.” Victoria nodded her head in agreement. “But I've got something here, and I'm gonna show you. Well, once I've got my coffee in.” He poured another two shots into his coffee and downed the whole cup.
“What are you showing me?”
He got up and motioned for her to follow. The house was covered in a layer of dust. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. He opened a door at the end of the hall and her jaw dropped.
“This is what I want to show you.”
Every single wall was covered in a serial killer style display of pictures. There was a collage of carcasses, and cut outs from papers so old they were falling to pieces.
“You've got a whole speech prepared, don't you?” He sighed.
“Animals can't drain blood, and they don't tear cows apart in straight lines. It's almost like surgery.”
“It could just be people doing something.”
“There's nobody out here.”
She walked down the hall and back to her car. “I've been waiting for this for years.” He was yelling from the porch.
“I will catalog the information you gave me.”
“You're making a mistake.”
“That's nice.” Victoria started the car and left him standing there in the dirt road. She couldn't deal with this. She was being su
bjected to a personal prank by her supervisor and it was going to get the better of her if she got too involved.
Chapter 4
Victoria's goal was to get everything out of the way that day, so that she could get back to Los Angeles as soon as possible. Cruz wasn't going to get away with sending her there. Victoria was a highly trained professional being demeaned by her supervisor. This was inexcusable. She should be making a difference, and working to help her country—not going out to the middle of nowhere to investigate paranormal phenomena. This was a waste of taxpayer dollars, and she was going to avoid having to run up any unnecessary expenditures.
Her next stop was at a ranch about five miles away, where Mr. Sanders' neighbor, John Lark had been making complaints about his cattle.
She had to drive for more than a mile off the highway to get to the small blue house sitting on top of the hill. John had only made one or two complaints, and only after he'd spoken with Sanders. Victoria figured he'd be pretty quick, so she pulled up to the side of the house and walked up onto the porch.
The place was nicer. Everything had been newly painted, and there was wrought iron patio furniture out on the porch with little potted lilacs on each side.
When she rang the bell, he came out right away. The man must have been in his early forties with thick black hair covered by a large white cowboy hat and the same tight jeans she was used to seeing.
“Victoria Johnson,” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Come on in.”
The place was cozy and clean with a wood floor and little nick-knacks scattered about. It reminded Victoria of an English parlor. It was obvious that a woman lived there.
He led her into the front sitting room, where they had obviously prepared for her arrival. There were scones and a porcelain tea set on the tiny coffee table. He sat across from her on an armchair and picked out a cigarette. “I know you're skeptical,” he began, “but there's something to this.”
“Please don't tell me you saved the corpses.”
“I gave them over to Sanders. You know one of these things cut my sheep in half, directly down the middle.”
Victoria knew this was a strange occurrence. “Then it's not animals.”
“There's nobody out here except for the neighbors, and none of them would be crazy enough to do something like this.”
“How do you know?” She picked up a scone and tried to ignore the pungent scent of the smoke hitting her in the face.
“I know 'em all. Look at how small this town is. Everyone here knows one another, and you can't survive if you don't have heat here. It gets well below zero in the winter.”
“There's no homeless?”
“They'd die.” He was right about that.
“Is there anyone here that might have something against you?”
“No. We all get along.” He was swiftly cutting away all her arguments.
“How am I supposed to come to a conclusion about this?”
“Now, I do have proof. Sanders ain't right in the head. I can see you writing him off, but I'm not crazy. Look.”
He reached over to a side table to his right and opened a drawer to pull out a tablet.
“Oh my god, it's a computer. You have those out here?”
John raised his eyebrows. “I'm worth more than anyone you know. Don't come in here looking at us like that. We're good people. Ranchers make money.”
He pulled up a video then handed it over to her. It was a dark scene, clearly setup in his field. At first nothing happened, then suddenly a pair of yellow eyes flashed, and she caught sight of a face, something she'd never seen before. It looked like a wolf, but it was bigger--scarier. That was the end of the video. “How do I know this is real?”
“We can setup the camera again. You can use your own equipment.”
“This is fake.”
“I'm giving you a chance to reproduce the video yourself without my help. This thing exists, and I wanna know what it is. We're scared, Agent Johnson, and we need you to help us.”
She nodded her head. “Is there anyone else who has actually seen it?”
“No. I don't think so, but I'm not completely sure. It's around here.”
“Fine. I don't believe you, but I'll start asking around, and see what I can do.”
He got up to show her out. “Thank you, Ms. Johnson.”
“I will continue the investigation and tell you if I find out anything else.”
Chapter 5
Victoria was a pragmatist. She knew for certain that that video was a fake, and nobody could dissuade her otherwise. She was not about to get caught up in some stupid investigation about monsters, but there was something about that image.
It looked real. The hairy face, and predatory yellow eyes reminded her of something out of a horror movie. It was a shocking image, and it wasn't blurry or faded.
She focused on the road and let thoughts of the image drift away. She needed to get back to reality; that was the most important thing.
When she turned into the hotel, it had almost completely faded from her mind. When she walked into her hotel room, though, she realized that she still had some business to attend to.
She took out her phone and lay down on the bed to ease her weariness.
“Hello?” Cruz' voice came on the line.
“I oughta slap you silly—puttin' me out here. What is wrong with you?”
“Change your tone,” the woman barked.
“Why should I?”
“Because I'll reprimand you.”
“How can I possibly take this case seriously? You did this to mess with me. Why?”
“Honestly, there's something to this. You saw the video?”
“Yes.”
“Analysis shows that it is completely unaltered. Either that's a mask or it's real.”
“Even if it is real, which it isn't, why do we care?”
“We need to know what it is. That's the most important thing. I want you to investigate this as thoroughly as you can, and keep an open mind.”
“You're doing this to play with me.”
“No. I'm not. I put you out there because you're a skeptic, and you're thorough. Now, I don't expect you to believe a single thing. Scientists say the best way to prove something is to try over and over to disprove it, and that's exactly what I expect you to do.”
“Fine.” Victoria turned off the phone and closed her eyes. She was tired, tired of dealing with all of this, and tired of not being taken seriously. Even the people in town didn't take her seriously, all because she didn't believe in monsters. She was going to have to prove herself, and the most infuriating part was that she would have to do it by finding out what was really going on.
The next morning she decided that the best thing would be to go and check with the neighbors. There was a property about two miles to the north of John Lark's, and as far as she could tell, there was nothing else between the two.
It was a large white house, almost like a two story middle class home you'd find in the 50s in the south, made of white washed planks with a small patio in front. The people here were hard working men, and women. That had led her to believe that it was children causing all of the trouble.
She pulled up and went to knock on the screen door, but it was already open. “Hello?”
She could hear the TV in the living room when a man well over six feet tall walked up to the door. He was a beast, and she noticed that almost everything except his face and neck was covered in thick black hair.
“Agent Johnson, right?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here?” He reminded her of a real cowboy with his stiff white button up shirt and thick jeans.
“I've been hearing reports of cattle mutilation at the Lark's place, and I've come to ask you a few questions. May I come in?”
“Alright.” He moved aside, and she walked into an immaculate man cave. It was sterile, but there were no decorations, just the basic couch, TV and kitchen table.
She sat down in the dining room and took out a pad of paper, but he just stood there staring at her.
“What?” She stared back.
“You're different from other people here. Everyone's pasty and bland. You've got spice.”
Victoria chuckled a bit while she looked him over. He was a real man. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
He sat down across from her. “I don't know much, but I don't mind sitting and talking to you.” He sat back with his arms folded across his chest. They were as thick as her calves.
“Thank you, Mr...?”
“Henry Young.”
“Ah. What I'm wondering is if you might know of any enemies Mr. Lark might have, somebody that would do this.”
“No.” He shook his head.
“What about teenagers in the area?”
“No. All the kids here are young.”
“Huh. What is your opinion on this? I mean, you seem pretty realistic, what's going on?”
“It's dumb.” He chuckled. “Sanders is probably making up the whole thing. In fact, I'm sure of it. He's got all those old things in his barn. He's been calling you for decades. The man is out of his mind.”
She put her pad away. “I think you might be right.”
He leaned in. “I know I'm right.”
“You know, this is the first time since I got here that I've met anyone with some sense.” Her eyes moved over his rough face, down his neck and stopped at his thick chest.
He watched her closely, and she could tell that he noticed her looking, but he didn't seem to mind. “They're wasting your time here. Did you piss somebody off?”
“Yeah. I don't know how. It's this skinny chick named Andrea.”
“Ah. Sounds like a Miss Universe dropout.”
“She's still vying for the position. Walks around like nothing is too good for her.” Victoria snorted.
“I like real women who know how to handle themselves—women who enjoy life. Girls like her hate everything.”
“See, that's what I want is a real man.”
He nodded his head and curled his lip up in the corner—a gesture that drove Victoria wild. “You wanna stay for dinner?”
ROMANCE: Paranormal Romance: The Valley (Book One) (Fun, Sexy, Mature Young Adult Vampire Shape Shifter Romance) Page 23