The Bewitched Box Set

by W. J. May

  “We are too, kid, we are too,” Leo said, smiling at her. “So when you going back to work?”

  She gingerly pulled the bandage off her neck and said, “How does it look?”

  He squinted at it and said, “The dried blood makes it look worse than it is, but they’re already scabbed over. You probably won’t even have a scar three days from now.”

  She nodded. “Good. Well I’m taking a week off. The government’s paying for it and there’s no way to explain the rapid healing to the BSI. I don’t care how open-minded they are.”

  ∞∞∞

  Christian slid the key into the lock of his one-bedroom apartment in Hyde Park. His body was physically exhausted but his mind was buzzing, the memories and events of the day bouncing around in his brain like a ball in a pinball machine. What was causing his pounding headache, however, were the unanswered questions.

  He stripped off his trench coat, which was coated in Annette’s dried blood, and tossed it into the hamper. Kicking off his shoes, he made his way to the fridge and grabbed a can of beer. Then he walked to the large black and white TV and turned the dial, flipping it on.

  He plunked himself on the couch, looking at the Andy Griffith Show, but not really watching it. As he put the beer to his lips and let the cool, tart liquid wash down his throat, he let out a shudder, thinking about that cat’s yellow eyes staring at him as he shot it.

  How is it possible for a human being to turn into an animal? What would cause something like that? Some radiation exposure or something?

  The answer was: they weren’t human beings.

  At the academy, they’d been schooled on shapeshifters and vampires. And while vampires fascinated him, he almost found them easier to understand on a scientific level. Apparently to become one, a normal human being has to be bitten by one, have some of their blood drained and drunk by a vampire, then the human has to drink the vampire’s blood. Apparently the mixing causes a full transformation after about three full days. Christian thought of this as a type of poisoning which caused the side effects of not being able to tolerate sunlight and rapid healing. The non-aging/immortality thing was odd, but he could still wrap his mind around that condition more than a shapeshifter. Apparently, they were born that way. Or so, the BSI had been told by a few they had extracted information from.

  How they extracted the information, Christian didn’t even want to speculate on.

  Again with the immortality, once reaching adulthood, they just stopped aging. They can live for decades, centuries, millennia even, as long as they didn’t get themselves killed, which seemed to happen often, especially in their animal forms. What he’d been taught was that they weren’t very bright. Maybe stupidity was also in their genes.

  Christian laughed humorlessly at his little joke when he took one last swig from the beer can, which was now about empty.

  His last questions, however, were the most haunting. He was no doctor, but he knew there was no way on God’s green Earth that Annette should have been sitting up and smiling less than a day after such a vicious attack. He didn’t care how many narcotics they’d pumped into her. Those wounds should have at least required a few hundred stitches. He’d seen the claws on that beast, they were practically glinting in the dwindling light of sunset as it pounced. Instead, the doctors had said the wounds seemed “superficial” and would heal on their own.

  Whatever that means.

  Annette, while pretty and attractive in a sexual way, was also a little strange. There was something off about her but Christian couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was a combination of things. Her background seemed strange; no family around and she just randomly moves to Chicago? She seemed adventuresome and driven, so he’d chalked it up to that. Then there were her physical abilities. She’d beat out all the guys in her class at the academy in both speed and skill – and even bragged about it. And that panther, my God. He saw the way she’d fought it off. That thing should have chopped her head off with one swipe of those claws, but she’d held her ground against it.

  Perhaps vampires and shapeshifters weren’t the only supernatural creatures out there. He’d seen her in the sunlight so he knew she wasn’t a vampire. Could she be a shifter? His mind was buzzing again, and it wasn’t from the beer.

  Christian shuddered again and asked Andy Griffith’s smiling face on the screen, “What in God’s name have I gotten myself involved in?”

  ∞∞∞

  A week later, Christian and Annette were seated in the conference room at BSI headquarters for their weekly briefing.

  “Special Agent Russell, would you like to join me up here and tell us what happened on the night of October 2nd?” said SAC Al Cartwright.

  Annette nodded, stood, and shot Christian a warning look. He was confused by this, but said nothing.

  Since the BSI was still a top secret part of the Justice Department, each field office only had about ten agents and all the ones from the Chicago field office were all seated around the conference room table. Annette Russell was the only female in the Chicago field office.

  She stood, straightening out her black polyester skirt and blazer and looped a stray curl behind her ear. “I think you all have heard about the shapeshifter attack so I’ll make this quick and just give you the facts so you don’t have to speculate anymore. We followed the suspect on foot from a diner to a somewhat secluded walking trail in Lincoln Park. Instead of having our weapons drawn, we decided to try to sneak up on him as he went deep into the woods for what we assumed was a shift. We were right about that, but were caught off-guard when he literally pounced out, now no longer a man but a two hundred pound black panther with yellow eyes and teeth and claws that meant business.

  “He sprang on me, but my wonderful partner, Estes here,” she looked at Christian and smiled, “was quick on his feet and shot him, then he collapsed and died. I’ll tell you though, even though we didn’t get to see him transform into the cat, it was sure a sight watching him morph back into a man.”

  The room was deathly quiet, all the agents just staring at her.

  “So they really do exist...” said a young agent sitting right next her.

  She laughed. “Yeah, Jameson, they really do. You think the government just made up this stuff? These creatures are very real. Make sure your weapon is out and at the ready when you think you’re going to confront one.”

  Another agent named Ray Porter said, “Why were you following him anyway? Did you know he was a shifter?”

  “That’s a good question, Porter. The guy was acting weird, kind of twitchy and had shifty eyes – no pun intended – and I just had a feeling about him.”

  The agents frowned at her. It wasn’t the answer they were looking for but she had nothing else to give them. Intuition or just a hunch was going to have do for now. Telling them she was one hundred and thirteen years old and had the Immortal gift of mind-reading was not an option. Yeah, women’s intuition was definitely going to have to win out on this one.

  “Thank you, Agent Russell. Is there anything else you’d like to share? Advice or tips?” SAC Cartwright asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, please watch your backs and never go out alone at night. Shifters are one thing, but vampires, I hear, are a lot more deadly.”

  “Briefing adjourned, see you back next Monday,” Al Cartwright said.

  As they left the meeting, Christian looked at Annette and said, “You really aren’t going to tell me how you knew he was a shifter, are you?”

  She smiled and popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “Nope.”

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  “I need to speak to Leo,” said the dark-skinned female as she took a seat at the bar.

  Rick the bartender nodded and wandered into the backroom.

  Leo was in his office, a smoldering cigar at his desk and a mountain of paperwork under the pencil he was holding. He was the bar’s owner and didn’t like being interrupted while he was balancing the books.

  “B
oss, there’s a lady out here asking for you.”

  Leo looked up from his duties and narrowed his eyes at the bartender. “Tell her to get lost, I’m busy.”

  “All right.”

  Rick went back to the bar and informed the woman he wasn’t available.

  She let out a huff and walked to the back where she had seen Rick disappear to.

  “Lady, you can’t go back there!” Rick said, following her.

  She quickly found Leo’s office and opened the door without knocking. “Leo, I need to talk to you.”

  Rick entered a few seconds later. “Sorry, boss, I told her you were busy, but –”

  Leo didn’t even look at the bartender, as he stared at the woman. “It’s ok, Rick. Just close the door behind you.”

  He nodded and left, pulling the door with him.

  Leo leaned back in his chair and took a long drag of his cigar, staring at the woman, who had helped herself to a seat on the long sofa in Leo’s office. “So what’s it been, Pearl, about ten years?”

  She nodded, chomping on gum. She had a heavy east coast accent. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “So what the hell do you want? I’m busy.”

  “I’d like to know what happened to Howie,” she said, her arms folded. She smoothed her powder blue skirt and was tapping the shoe of her heeled black mary janes on his hardwood floor.

  Smoke wafted through the air and seemed to get stuck in her high, sleek black beehive hairdo. She waved it away and exaggerated a cough.

  “Who is Howie?” he asked, curious.

  She huffed. “My brother, you asshole!”

  “I’m still not following, doll. If he’s missing, check the local dog pound. Otherwise, I don’t care.”

  She stood up and stomped her foot. “He’s dead, you insensitive prick! Someone killed him in Lincoln Park and I know you and your little cops did something to him.”

  Recognition passed over Leo’s face and he smiled. “The human cops killed him, not us. Justice Department, in fact.”

  She swallowed down a sob but maintained her composure, slumping back to the sofa. “What do you know about it?”

  He measured his words carefully. The shapeshifters didn’t know about the BSI and the Immortals wanted to keep it that way. “I don’t know much, I was told that he shifted and attacked the cops, they shot him, end of story. Did they not explain this to you when you went to identify the body, or whatever else they called you to do?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “They told me what you just said. But it makes no sense. Howie wouldn’t shift like that and attack people, he had to have been provoked.”

  Leo set the cigar down. “Pearl, did Howie beat his wife?”

  She stared at him horror. “Of course not.”

  “But she was human, wasn’t she?”

  Pearl nodded. “Yeah, I told him he shouldn’t be getting involved with no human girl, but he married her and I thought they were doing okay.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Why do you ask? What does it matter?” she asked suspiciously.

  Leo blew out a breath. “No reason.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t believe you. You know something and you better tell me!”

  “So how’s Morrie doing?” he asked in deflection.

  “Oh, so you haven’t seen me in ten years, but you sure know who the new clan leader is.”

  Leo laughed. “You are seriously deluded if you think I am not going to keep tight tabs on your shifter clan and the vampires. What do you think we do here?”

  “To answer your question, Morrie was just fine until last week when he lost one of his clan members. He sent me here looking for answers.”

  “I don’t believe you. He was your brother. You’re grieving and want someone to blame. You want to point the finger? Point it at Howie. He shouldn’t have shifted and attacked humans, especially in public. I don’t know what he was thinking, but it was the end of him.”

  She was looking at him, part mortified, part furious.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m swamped here.” He pointed to the stacks of paperwork.

  “You’re a real dick, you know that, Leo?” she huffed, walking toward the door.

  He waved. “Give Morrie my regards!”

  As she stormed out, the door slammed shut, rattling the frame.

  ∞∞∞

  Christian and Annette were again staking out the creepy mansion of the supposed head of the local vampire clan. The house was quiet and so was Christian. Ever since the incident with Howie the shapeshifter, Christian had been less friendly and decidedly more quiet. Annette had tried talking to him but he said it was nothing, totally denying that he was acting differently.

  Men.

  She looked over at him, his face in the driver’s seat looking in the direction of the house, his fingers strumming absently on the steering wheel. She gazed at the back of his head and then looked back down at the magazine she was pretending to read. She took a listen to his ruminating stream of consciousness.

  I’ve got to get to the bottom of this. What if the Bureau has hired a shapeshifter? There’s definitely something off about her... I am going to figure out what it is. I wonder if I should ask her out on a date and see if I can get her in bed. While she’s sleeping, I can look around her house. I’m pretty sure at the academy they said that shifters have higher than usual body temps. I’ve only ever touched her once when I took her to the hospital, but I was too pumped up and panicked to notice. Maybe if I put my hand on her arm, or pretend to bump into her, I could feel her skin. But then I’d have to let my hand linger too long, and she’d definitely think that was weird...

  Annette suppressed a smile at his angsty inner monologue. So he thought she was a shifter. That’s kind of funny, she thought. It’s not as if he’d ever guess what she really was, though. There was no way she was going to tell him; he’d have to just keep speculating. She did briefly wonder, however, if he was going to come on to her and try to sleep with her.

  Not that the thought had never crossed her mind.

  But now she’d know it was because he was trying to find out if she was something other than human, and not because he was interested. She sighed loudly and Christian turned his head and looked at her.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, seeming concerned.

  She nodded. “Oh yes, of course. Just bored. Wish these vampires would keep a regular schedule so we wouldn’t have to sit out here all night.”

  Christian grinned. “We could try to break in or peek in the windows.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Ever been bitten by a Doberman?”

  “No, but maybe you should go. You seem to have the magical ability to fight off large animals,” he said. It was a teasing tone, but the snarky undercurrent wasn’t lost on her.

  And to heal very quickly from their bites and scratches! he added inside his head.

  He was now smirking and she stared at him without smiling. “You got something to say, Estes?”

  His smile fell. “No, why?”

  “Well, you’ve been acting weird and I think you should come out with it. I know the shifter attack freaked you out and everything, but I really am okay. As you can see.”

  Oh yes, much better than you should be.

  She frowned. Sometimes she hated her little ability. She decided to tune out his thoughts. She didn’t want to hear any more.

  “Vampires at ten o’clock,” she said, pointing at the house, grateful for the reprieve from the tense conversation. She hoped he didn’t want to continue it later.

  He pulled the heavy black binoculars up to his eyes while Annette put the camera up to her face and started snapping photos. At least there was a full moon tonight and visibility was a bit better than it had been the last time.

  “They’re fixin’ to leave,” Annette said, still snapping pictures.

  He lowered the binoculars and looked at her with amusement in his eyes. “Fixin’?”

  She
shrugged and pulled the stale gum from her mouth, wrapping it in a tissue. “I’m from the South, what can I say?”

  “Not fixin’.”

  She chuckled. “No promises.”

  The town car backed out of the wrought iron gates and the large bodyguard again shut the gates manually as the car slowly headed away into the night. The two BSI agents followed at a safe distance, this time determined to keep a tighter tail.

  ∞∞∞

  “You go around back,” Annette said, waving in the direction of the backyard. She had her gun drawn and was sneaking up to peer in the large front window of the quaint house the town car had stopped at, which had lights burning in it.

  Christian nodded and crept toward the gate, which thankfully wasn’t latched. He pushed it open a small ways and slipped through, disappearing into the backyard.

  Annette had her back against the house and slunk around to the front, ducking down behind a neatly trimmed rosebush, careful to avoid thorns. It was cold out so the bush wasn’t very hearty, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She looked toward the street again, seeing the vampires’ car and knew nobody was in it. Even with the blacked-out windows, her enhanced eyesight gave her the assurance that it was empty.

  She slowly peered into the front window. Thin, gauzy yellow ruffled curtains hung, and a large gap on the side let her see in clearly. One of the vampires, a male she recognized from the town car, and a human girl, were both sitting at the dining room table. A large man with huge biceps and a short black crew cut stood by the table with his arms folded. They appeared to be in a conversation. The vampire was looking at the girl hungrily, even licking his lips once or twice, but the girl, a smallish brown-haired girl wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, was sitting with her hands in her lap, not meeting the gaze of either man.

  Annette closed her eyes and tried to hear what they were talking about. She caught bits and pieces. “You know that’s the price, Jeremy,” she heard the big guy say.

  “All right, whatever,” Jeremy the vampire replied, waving his hand.