by D N Simmons
He fought the urge to kneel on all fours and plunge his face deep into the feast at hand. He licked his lips and swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth. His stomach growled loudly this time. He heard footsteps coming closer and looked up to see his partner approaching.
“I can hear your hungry ass from over there. Didn't I tell you to eat something before you brought your ass out here?” Matthew stated forcefully as he approached Warren. Kneeling beside him, he inspected a bloody chunk of the corpse by lifting a piece of the torn muscle with his examining pen. Warren gave him a rueful smile. He looked at Matthew's attire, a black sweatshirt with the faded letters of Rosenthall-Krest University on the front and a pair of faded and obviously worn blue jeans. His boots were the newest thing he had on, they still had that new store-bought shine to them.
“You did, but I didn't think I'd have enough time to stop,” Warren lied.
“You had time. At least enough time to pull into a Burger Town or something and grab a dozen breakfast sandwiches. Anything would have been better than having you drooling over the body.” He took another look around the area. “Or what's left of a body. We can't even tell if this was a man or woman, young or old. I guess it matters little. As it stands now, this is a John or Jane doe. Shit, I'm not even sure if it's human!”
“It's human, Matt. Has Galen found anything more about the body from yesterday? Has it been identified?” Warren asked.
Matthew nodded. “Yeah, the victim was a man named Wallace Gram. He owned a cleaners down there on 69th Street. His wallet was missing from the body but his wife had reported him missing two days before he was found. She, of course, doesn't know why anyone would do this to her husband. She said he was a good and caring person who always gave back to the community. I guess she didn't realize that supernaturals don't take that into consideration.” As soon as he made this statement, Matthew wished he could have taken back what he'd just said, the look on Warren's face made him regret it.
“You sound like the rest of them!” Warren said as he gestured to the other officers surrounding the area.
“You know I didn't mean it like that. It's just, ah shit man, you know how I feel about all this. I know that humans are just as capable of this as the next being it's just-”
“Most supernaturals were human, so I suppose that's where they get it from,” Warren said matter-of-factly, then walked over to another piece of the body. He didn't want to get into this kind of debate with Matthew, not right now, not in public. He was grateful that no one was standing close to them as they exchanged words. He would hate to have to explain his sympathy for the supernaturals to humans who would not understand.
“I guess, never mind. We'll talk about it later, I suppose, Matthew said as he rose, standing over the largest piece of flesh and bone. Warren was grateful Matthew knew how to take a hint. It helped since he was trying to hide his own nature from the world.
“This looks like part of a femur right here.” Warren gestured in a circular motion around a fragment of white bone jutting out from a football size chunk of bloody flesh. Matthew walked over and bent forward for a closer inspection.
“Yeah, it looks like it. It's still too hard to tell if it's female or male. There's just not enough left for us to make that determination. Perhaps the bone marrow will aid Galen in determining the sex; it's his job.”
“Well, it looks like this shifter took what he wanted then mutilated the body afterward so we wouldn't be able to pick up any details from the remains. It's going to make it difficult to determine concrete evidence, that's for sure. We know that the murderer is planting these bodies on the southeast side of the city. We've also determined that these aren't just natural feedings, Matthew. The murderer is toying with us by leaving us little to connect. But there's something more....” Warren gestured for Matthew to follow him toward his truck. He needed to get away from the immediate scent of the body. He needed to eat something as soon as possible or he'd end up eating one of the people at the scene of the crime.
“I have to get something to eat and now” he whispered breathlessly as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. He snatched the gloves off and climbed inside his car. Matthew climbed in on the passenger side, watching Warren. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles began to sweat and turn white.
“Hey man, are you going to be okay? Shit, should I be sitting next to you right now?” he asked seriously.
Warren nodded. “I'll be fine, I just need to get away from here. I really should have eaten but I don't know how much good it would have done. I wasn't prepared to walk into a crime scene like that.” He pressed his forehead to his knuckles, taking several deep breaths before sitting up and starting the engine. He threw a glance at his partner and smiled.
“I wouldn't eat you. You'd probably taste like shit anyway,” he joked.
“Oh please, I'd probably be the best thing you ever had in your mouth,” Matthew shot back, winking at his partner. Warren gave him a wolfish grin. That one line meant more to Warren than he would let Matthew know. He had thoughts about how good Matthew would taste in his mouth and he wasn't thinking as an entree, either. He had always thought Matthew was extremely handsome. He enjoyed Matthew's personality, liked how he always remained calm, even when he was pissed. Matthew reminded him of Xander. He didn't have any sexual lust for Xander, but a calm, cool temperament was always a turn on for him.
He wished Adrian was more like his father, it would have kept their relationship from getting so rocky. He drove his truck to the nearest Pancake Palace. He wanted a real breakfast, something that was going to coat his stomach. He thought about Adrian and the feel of his body stroking his, inside and out. It made him blush. If there was one thing that made a shifter think about sex, it was the sight and scent of blood. He could feel himself growing hard and fought against it. He didn't want to have to explain to Matthew why he was sporting a serious boner.
“What was it you were going to say back there at the crime scene? You looked like you were going to say something, then just trailed off. What were you going to say?” Matthew, prodded, bringing Warren out of his sex-filled trance.
“Well, this shifter, I think it's a wolf, but I can't be certain right now. I'm going to have to take another whiff.”
“You mean werewolf?”
“Yeah, but inside the shifting community, we don't refer to ourselves as 'were' anything. If you change into a wolf, then you're just a wolf or cheetah, etc. You get it?”
Matthew nodded. “So you think it's a we-wolf. What else?”
“I'm pretty sure it's toying with us. Baiting us, or something. Whatever it's doing, it's laughing its fucking ass off. But, this is the thought that was on my mind. I think it may know that I'm a shifter and may be trying to expose me.”
“Why do you say that?” Matthew asked, obviously concerned.
“Well, it's a hunch that I have. For one thing, if it's just feeding and tossing the remains, then this shifter is hiding its scent pretty fucking well. I went back to the first crime scene last night with the oldest and strongest of our Pack. He picked up the same scent I did. But nothing else. And I'm sad to say that the scent from that crime scene didn't match the scent I picked up at this crime scene. So, either it's two shifters working together, or that first scent was just a wolf passing through.”
“How would this shifter know about you? Why would they be trying to expose you?” Matthew asked as they pulled into the parking lot at the breakfast restaurant on 87th Street. The restaurant was one of Warren's favorites. He loved getting quantity with quality for his buck. He liked the wooden interior design of the restaurant. It reminded him of a bed and breakfast he stayed at while camping and hunting with Xander and the Pack. The booths had blue and red plaid upholstery, the big bay windows allowing for plenty of sunlight. He adored the shining hard wood floors and the atmosphere, which was very friendly and laid back.
“I don't know, I've never smelle
d the scent before, so how this shifter knows me is a mystery. Unless...this shifter returned to the prior crime scene after we had investigated. That would be one way, but it still doesn't explain the motive. It's been my experience that most serial killers try to hide their victim's bodies for fear that the tiniest evidence would lead to their capture. But this murderer wants to play cat and mouse, and this shifter is leaving only the clues he or she wants us to have. Matt, this killer doesn't fear us,” Warren speculated as he climbed out of the truck, followed by Matthew.
“When we get back to the precinct, we have to look at the most recent missing persons reports. We have to try and find a link between the missing persons and the murder victims. We have to figure out where this killer is finding them,” Matthew said as he held the door open for his partner. They were seated right away. Warren's stomach growled louder; he felt the rumble deep inside his gut.
“Damn, man! Let's get you something to eat, A.S.A.P.!” Matthew joked. Warren just smiled, but he did want to eat A.S.A.P. An African-American waitress in a black dress with a white apron came over to the table and set two glasses of water on the table in front of them.
“What can I get you two handsome gentleman?” she asked in a friendly voice. She held her ink pen poised, ready to jot down their order.
“Well, I would like a coffee and two scrambled eggs with a side of French toast. My friend here will just take everything on your menu,” Matthew chuckled. Warren gave him a cross look then opened the menu to see what he wanted to order.
“Do you need some more time?” the waitress asked. Warren nodded.
“Just give me about one minute and then you can come back, I should be ready to eat a horse by then,” he smiled. Matthew gave him a knowing look. The waitress smiled and walked away. Warren looked at Matthew.
“What?” he asked, shrugging.
“Yeah, I bet you could eat a horse, probably have at some point.”
“Do you really want to know?”
Matthew shook his head. “No, not really.”
Warren laughed and went back to looking at the menu. Their waitress returned to the table, ready to take his order. He was ready now, with an appetite to boot.
“Okay, I'm ready now. I'll have the number four with an extra steak-rare. A side of southern-style hash browns, Canadian bacon and...a side of strawberry buttermilk pancakes and a large coffee.” He closed the menu, smiling at the waitress, who was still writing what he had listed as his “breakfast”.
“Will this complete your order sir?” she asked, smiling at him. She just knew he was going to say, “oh and I forgot this.”
“No, that's what I want,” he said, smiling. She nodded and walked away. Matthew looked at Warren, chuckling.
“Tell me how is it you're not fat as hell? If I ate the way you ate, I'd be dead by now from high cholesterol and clogged arteries,” Matthew stated as he leaned closer across the table. Warren met his friend's soft, brown eyes and smiled.
“Well, we've got pretty high metabolism. So we burn fat and protein relatively fast. If you ever see a fat ass shape-shifter, it's because that shifter never stopped eating. He or she probably fought the urge to run as well. So, in reality, I can eat whatever I want and just about never gain a pound.” He was glad they had a booth set away from the others in the restaurant. This way, their conversation wasn't overheard by all.
“What do you mean, 'urge' to run?”
“Well, since we pretty much turn into wild animals, we have a natural instinct to go running and hunting. In addition, feline shape-shifters have the urge to climb, and most take plenty of naps. I’m sure you can imagine the canine shape-shifters love to run, which is why I can enjoy chasing down a suspect on foot. It's the hunt, the chase.” He shrugged one shoulder.
“I hope you don't mind me asking all these questions and shit. When I first found out about you, I had to absorb the reality of it. Then I just didn't want to know anything...well anything outside of what might get me killed. But now that I'm pretty comfortable with the whole idea, I'm just curious,” Matthew said as he leaned closer. Their waitress returned with Matthew's order. She gave them both a look. She thought they were lovers. The way that Matthew peered into Warren's eyes had given her that idea.
“I'll be right back with your order, sir,” she told Warren. He nodded and thanked her. He watched Matthew dig into his eggs. It made his mouth start to water all over again. His stomach rumbled a bit more.
“Keep your eyes off my food,” Matthew joked. Warren chuckled and clasped his hands in front of him on the table.
“Back to what you were saying, I don't mind if you ask questions. As a matter of fact, I'm glad that you're asking. I've wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to freak you out or anything. But I'll answer any question I can.” He looked around the restaurant. He didn't catch a scent of another shifter in the vicinity. But he was starting to get a little unnerved about discussing his “condition” in public.
“Better yet, Matthew, when we get back into the car, I'll tell you everything you want to know. But for right now, let's just stick to the case,” Warren said on second thought.
Matthew nodded, then stared forward like he was in deep thought, then shook his head. “I'd rather not talk about the case while I'm eating,” he said. Warren actually agreed. Although discussing the case wouldn't have bothered them, if it wasn't for the condition of the remains. It sickened Matthew and enticed Warren.
Warren's eyes widened with hungry delight as the waitress came closer to their table carrying a large brown tray that held the several plates that was his breakfast.
“Here you go, sir,” she said, placing a large platter with two sixteen ounce skirt steaks accompanied by a three-egg omelet stuffed with cheddar cheese, green and red peppers, onions topped with fresh made salsa. Next to be set down was a bowl of hash browns with mixed green and red peppers, onions and diced spicy apple-glazed chicken sausage. The last plate was medium sized, stacked with four, thick, fluffy buttermilk pancakes topped with strawberries, powdered sugar and whipped cream. She placed a serving of strawberry syrup next to the plate of pancakes, a bottle of ketchup and steak sauce next to his platter of steaks and eggs. The last was his large cup of coffee.
“Is there anything else that you'll need, gentlemen?” she asked, looking from one to the other. The men gave each other a look, then shook their heads. Warren was already cutting into the steak when she smiled and walked away. Matthew looked at the spread before him and just couldn't see where Warren put it all.
“I still cannot believe you're going to finish all that,” Matthew said. Warren simply nodded as he stuffed fork-full after fork-full of steak into this mouth. Other people surrounding their table threw quick glances at their booth, trying hard not to rudely stare as Warren ate. Matthew finished his meal and sipped his coffee as he watched his partner put away enough food for four people. He just shook his head.
Matthew wondered if they could win a free dinner if he ever took Warren back to his hometown in Texas to his favorite restaurant and had him order the “Cowboy”. He pondered that for a minute. Not only would the dinner be free for you and your party, fifty-dollars was awarded along with your face on a plaque that would hang on the “Wall of Champions”. You would become a legend. It's not every day that one person can put away a sixty-five ounce steak in an hour, at least not without dying halfway through. He would have to tell Warren about it later.
After twenty minutes, Warren had finished his breakfast. He sat back, looking over the empty plates in front of him with satisfaction. He looked at Matthew and smiled.
“And you thought I couldn't finish this,” he said as he shook his head as if to say “for shame”.
“Shit, you weren't supposed to. By all rights, you should be passed out somewhere on a gurney.” Both of them burst into laughter. Warren could just picture what Matthew was thinking. Him, laid out, arms and legs dangling off the edge of the gurney, face still greasy from the breakfast as the paramedi
cs performed emergency CPR, the thought made him chuckle. They settled in their seats for a few more minutes, Warren letting the breakfast digest a bit. He reached inside his pocket, pulling his wallet free. He held up his hand in protest as Matthew reached for his own wallet.
“Hey, don't worry about it, it's on me,” he stated as he pulled out two twenty dollar bills and one ten.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. What's your seven dollars to this?” gesturing to all of his empty plates. He raised his hand to call the waitress over, who walked toward them. Handing her the money, he said, “Here, and keep the change. Thanks for everything.”
“Oh, you're welcome,” she said, smiling at her ten dollar tip. She hoped he came back, she liked the big tippers. She didn't get tipped that much here. The two men left the restaurant and headed for Warren's truck. They climbed in and Warren started the engine. He glanced at Matthew.
“Okay, now ask me whatever it is you want to ask,” Warren said.
Matthew looked at him and nodded. “I know some things about shape-shifters since the job, but not the behind the scenes shit, you know. Do you belong to a Pack or something like it?”
Warren thought over the question. If Xander knew he was revealing so much private information to his friend, he would no doubt want to kill Matthew. He would make sure he never told Xander how much he was revealing to Matthew.
“Well, yes I do. I could live with them if I wanted to, but because of the job, I don't. There are about fifteen adult wolves in my Pack and three children. We have a leader who controls all the goings-on within the Pack. For example, he decides who's to be made a wolf. He also tries to makes sure none of us get into trouble. If we do get into trouble, he has to decide the best way to deal with it.”