by Marc Daniel
Chapter 64
Sheila Wang’s piece had opened the floodgates to a sea of articles focusing on the wolves’ attacks. Every newspaper and tabloid in the state had the story on its front page, and the case had become national news. The articles were, for the most part, unsubstantiated and simply presented the few known facts of the case over and over again in different literary dressings in hope the reader would not notice the total absence of original details. Fortunately, most readers didn’t, and as was often the case in modern news reporting, the journalists’ interpretation of the anorexically thin factsheet filled most of the columns and airtime.
Detectives Lewis and Salazar, the main victims of the journalistic frenzy, started to more than resent their assignment to the case. In addition to being harassed on a daily basis by reporters hunting for a scoop, they were under constant pressure from their hierarchy, in particular Thomas Maxwell, the Houston PD second in command, who demanded to be kept informed of absolutely everything related to the case.
“That’s it… I’m done!” said Salazar, slamming the phone receiver back on its base. “If I get one more call from a journalist regarding this business, I’ll set up a secret meeting with them at the Zoo in front of the wolf exhibit, and when they show up, I’ll throw them inside the pen!”
“Can I help?” asked Lewis eagerly.
“I was hoping you’d offer.”
The department was almost empty. Most of their colleagues were in the field inspecting crime scenes or following leads, but Salazar and Lewis had no lead to follow and their most recent crime scene was almost a month old and had undergone more inspecting than one could possibly conceive. Due to the high profile of the case, all their other pending assignments had been redistributed to other detectives and they were therefore stuck with a case that was going nowhere fast.
“Why won’t the journalist drop it?” asked Lewis, not really expecting an answer from her partner. “It’s been almost a month since the last killing; don’t you think people would get tired of it?”
“Maybe we should re-interview Biörn,” proposed Salazar half convincingly. “Harrington seemed to think he could help…”
“Beats me why,” answered Lewis vehemently. “I don’t see how a park ranger can be of much help in a murder investigation…”
“He’s a wolf specialist, maybe he could find leads we wouldn’t think of…” offered Salazar tentatively.
“Maybe… but doubtful. We don’t enroll the help of a gun dealer every time a body turns up with a bullet in the head…”
Lewis was proud of her argument, even though she realized Salazar might have a point.
“Do you have a better suggestion?” he asked, a bit ticked off.
She tried hard to come up with something, but to no avail. They had been going round and round checking and rechecking every possible shred of a clue, following anything remotely resembling a lead, and had gone absolutely nowhere.
“I guess your idea is as good as any,” she finally conceded. “The mob has tried to kill him after all, and we still don’t know why.”
The investigation of Michael Biörn’s attempted assassination had been assigned to a different team, but Lewis knew from the detectives in charge of the case that the motive behind the attack was still unknown. They were pretty sure Ivanov was behind the failed assassination attempt, but they could not find any evidence. The cops hadn’t had any more luck linking the Russian mobster with the Port of Houston drug bust that had taken place a few days earlier. Charges simply never stuck to the man. He was slick as an eel and just as slimy.
Chapter 65
Michael lifted Sheila and in two strides carried her back into the motel room. He dropped her there, not too carefully, and returned to the door to lock it.
“Go lock yourself in the bathroom,” ordered Michael, but Sheila just stood there, bewildered and unable to react.
“Now!” he yelled. She finally snapped out of her indolence and limped her way to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and, to her dismay, noticed there wasn’t a lock on it. Not that it would have made any real difference; the door was paper-thin and she could have kicked it in herself if she wanted.
Inside the bedroom, Michael had stripped naked in a second and was morphing. After a millennium of practice, he had the transformation down to a science. The process was both quick and almost painless, almost… Five seconds later, the transformation was complete, and when Clemens’ wolves smashed the door open, they found an 800-pound bear standing in the middle of the room. The look of surprise on the face of the first man to walk through the door was short-lived, as the bear closed the distance in a single stride and snapped his gigantic jaws shut on the man’s neck. Vertebrae and spine snapped under the pressure, and blood spurted out of the severed carotid artery as the detached head fell to the floor with a muffled sound.
The remaining members of the execution squad, seven men total, had fanned out inside the room and were surrounding the werebear. Some of them had started to morph into their wolf form, while the others focused on distracting the beast.
The bear stood about eight feet tall. With his two-inch claws and his flattened face, he resembled a large grizzly bear, but some features, such as the hump on the back and the rounded ears, were missing. An expert would have been unable to assign the animal to any of the known species of bear.
One of the assassins grabbed the metal chair and hurled it at the back of the beast with enough force to knock out a large sumo wrestler. The chair simply bounced off the animal, who immediately spun around, dropped on all fours, and charged the chair thrower, who barely escaped the assault by ducking to the floor.
Four of the werewolves were now in their wolf form and, as if answering to a silent signal, threw themselves at their opponent in a perfectly synchronized motion. Their fangs sank deep into the werebear’s side and hind limbs, and he roared in pain and anger. He lifted one of his front paws and thrust it into the flank of the wolf whose teeth were locked on his side. The sharp claws pierced the animal’s flank as if it had been a simple balloon and came out on the other side covered in guts and blood. The animal released his bite immediately and fell on his side, whimpering in pain and barely moving.
All the werewolves had now morphed and Michael was facing six of the monsters. Three of them were still chewing on his back legs, seriously reducing his mobility. In a quick motion, his fangs closed on the rear end of one of the wolves and with a powerful pull, ripped him off his back leg and threw him against the bedroom’s brick wall. The wolf hit the wall violently and slipped unconscious to the ground, leaving a bloodied mark along the wall.
Michael was now standing on his back legs as the two wolves who had not taken part in the fight simultaneously jumped at his throat. He had seen them coming, however, and swatting with his front paws as one would swat at flies, he caught the werewolves in mid-air and crushed their skulls one against the other. Regular wolves would have died on impact, but werewolves were a lot more resistant and they simply fell to the ground unconscious. The three wolves still standing were now circling their erect prey, who had a good four and a half foot advantage on them.
A bear’s back claws weren’t typically very long, but Michael’s were, and in a display of bravado, he sank the claws of his right foot deep into the throat of one of the unconscious wolves. He then kicked his foot free of the limp body, which went flying towards one of the circling wolves and caught him on the side. Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the impact, Michael hurled himself at the wolf closest to him and closed his fangs on the animal’s throat before shaking its head free of its body.
The two remaining wolves decided the odds were now against them and fled through the destroyed door. Not wasting an instant, the bear walked to the injured wolves scattered throughout the bedroom and, using his powerful jaws, beheaded every single one of them. Satisfied his enemies could no longer recover from their injuries, Michael changed back into his human form.
It was only after he recovered his human appearance that he noticed Sheila, standing by the bathroom door, staring at him. He immediately recognized the look on her face: a mixture of terror and bewilderment. Isibel had looked at him with the same eyes that night, an eternity ago… It had been the last expression Michael had seen on his wife’s face, the last time he had seen her alive.
Chapter 66
The Alpha slowly pressed the piston and felt the cool liquid flow into his veins. The first effects were immediate. He started sweating and felt his entire body warming up as the drug invaded it, a bit deeper with every beat of his heart. Soon he started feeling nauseous, but this would only be temporary. Every drug had unpleasant side effects, and this one was no exception. The drug’s benefits far outweighed its negative effects, and the Alpha regarded the temporary discomfort accompanying the injection as an investment whose dividends would soon be paid out.
His cell phone rang and he answered. The voice he heard on the other end of the line belonged to Axel Thompkins, the Houston pack fourth in command. Thompkins was an African American who had been called by many other names over the past two hundred years he had spent living in the United States.
“We failed,” said Thompkins. “Biörn is still alive and the last time I saw him, he looked in pretty good shape.”
“What happened?” asked the Alpha, irritated.
“You were right. He’s a werebear, and a big one too,” answered Thompkins in a matter-of-fact voice. “He was about to leave with some girl when we drove into the motel parking lot. He saw us and went straight back to his room. He had already morphed by the time we walked into the room.”
He paused to give the Alpha a chance to react, but the Alpha remained silent and Axel continued his story.
“We attacked him in waves, but he was too strong and knew exactly what to do to defeat us. We weren’t his first wolves,” explained Thompkins.
“How many of you escaped?”
“Only two wolves, including myself, but the witch managed to get out of there as well. A couple of the wolves were not yet dead by the time we fled, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. I’m sure he has finished them off by now.”
“Me too,” replied the Alpha. If Biörn had remained alive all these years, it was probably not due to a sentimental nature. The fact that Thompkins decided to escape instead of keeping up the fight was speaking volumes in itself. Axel Thompkins was one of the rare members of Clemens pack to have been born a werewolf, and, as every full-blooded wolf he was both dominant and powerful. Not the type of wolf to back out of a fight if there was even a small chance to win it.
“So you’re telling me that we have six dead wolves rotting in Biörn’s motel room right now?” asked the Alpha.
“I am afraid so,” replied Thompkins apologetically.
“Great!”
Chapter 67
Sheila looked petrified, her expression a mixture of terror and disbelief.
“Sheila?” said Michael softly, but he did not obtain any answer. He grabbed his clothes and moved away from the doorway where he could be seen from the parking lot. He would have liked to wash up, but he did not dare leave Sheila alone, for fear she’d take off on him. Using his hands, he wiped off the fragments of flesh and organs that still caked his body in places and proceeded to put his clothes back on while watching Sheila from the corner of his eye. His pants and shirt soaked up the blood that covered a good part of his body and hadn’t had the time to dry out yet. A part of his subconscious complained about yet another ruined outfit, but his active focus was on Sheila, whose expression had changed ever so slightly in the last thirty seconds.
“Are you OK?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. She looked at him, and all he could see in her eyes was fear.
“I won’t hurt you,” he told her, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I’m one of the good guys.”
She did not dare look at him in the eyes. “What are you?”
“I will explain everything, but now is not the time. I need to call for help. We can’t leave dead werewolves lying around for everyone to see.”
“Werewolves?” she whispered, but he didn’t reply, simply picked up the phone and dialed the number Ezekiel had given him a few weeks earlier.
The wizard picked up at the second ring.
“Troubles?” he asked without preamble.
“Dead wolves all over my hotel room. Looks very messy,” replied Michael without humor.
“I’ll be over in a jiffy.”
The line went dead and Michael pulled the cell phone David had given him from his pants pocket and dialed the detective’s number.
“Michael! What’s up?” said the voice of David Starks.
“We couldn’t escape. They caught us in the parking lot.”
“Us? Who’s with you?” asked David, surprised.
“Sheila.”
“Wonderful! Are you both OK?”
“More or less… I need you to come and pick her up. She’s not safe here, and I don’t want to leave her alone. When can you be here?”
“I’ll be over in thirty minutes,” answered David.
Michael replaced the cell phone in his front pocket and turned his attention on Sheila who was still looking at him, not daring to move a muscle. She would probably have bolted out of the room had she been closer to the door, he thought. He stood between her and the only way out of the room, however, and she did not dare try her luck.
“Why haven’t the police arrived yet?” asked Sheila in a trembling voice. “A bear just battled werewolves in the middle of Houston with a door wide open on a busy parking lot. People should have called 911 fifteen minutes ago…”
“Because nobody saw a thing…” said Ezekiel with authority as he walked through the door. “They had a witch with them!”
The wizard wore his eternal pointy hat and was wrapped in the same gray cloak Michael had seen him wear for centuries. Wizards, apparently, did not wear out their clothes very fast.
After what she had just witnessed, the arrival of a man dressed in what looked to Sheila like a Halloween costume of Gandalf the Grey from The Lord of the Rings only seemed to thicken the surrealistic aura that had suddenly swathed her life.
“I suspected as much,” replied Michael. “I can still feel the residual magic in the air, and it doesn’t feel like fae magic… ”
“The spell is fading fast, but it was good enough to make the entire room unnoticeable. To novice eyes, the door even looks intact from the outside,” explained Ezekiel.
Sheila had started to recover from the shock and looked a little more like herself than she had a few minutes earlier.
“Who… who are you?” she asked.
“The name is Ezekiel, wizard of the second circle,” replied Ez in a booming voice meant to be intimidating. The trick worked on the journalist who decided not to press her questioning further. Clearly she was surrounded by dangerous lunatics and her survival resided in them paying the least possible amount of attention to her.
“Thank you for coming so fast, Ez,” said Michael with gratitude.
“No need to thank me, old friend,” said the wizard in a warm voice. “I only did what you would have done for me were our places switched around.”
Michael knew the statement was true, but still he felt fortunate to have a friend like Ez on his side. The Houston pack obviously had witches on payroll, but he had Ezekiel, one of the most powerful wizards alive.
“That’s a lot of wolf pieces for a single room,” said the wizard, looking around and using the same voice one would use to appraise a piece of real estate. “It looks like someone had too much fun,” he added, looking at Michael, who simply ignored the remark.
The wizard took a small leather pouch out of an inside pocket and untied the leather laces that kept it shut. Inside was a bright blue powder, which he proceeded to sprinkle over the wolves’ bodies while chanting in a low voice words Sheila could not understand but that seemed to rhyme. As he
did so, the corpses started shimmering and slowly became transparent. A few minutes later, the carcasses had all disappeared, together with the blood and body parts that had maculated the room.
This was too much for Sheila, who passed out and fell to the ground before Michael could catch her.
Chapter 68
The cars kept rolling into the already overcrowded driveway. The newcomers were now parking under the trees edging the forest clearing where Clemens’ cabin had been erected.
Inside the house, the wolves were agitated, although they ignored the reason of their summoning. The pack was feeding off the Alpha’s mood, and Clemens’ mood was not good.
The whole pack typically met at Clemens’ a couple times a month for scheduled meetings, but this time the summoning had come late in the afternoon for the same evening. Something was definitely going on.
The pack’s gatherings took place in the second story of the house, in a room large enough to comfortably host fifty people. There were plenty of seats for everybody, and they were arranged by groups of five or six around coffee tables. One of the walls was equipped with a retractable projection screen hidden in the ceiling when not in use, but which was now ready for operation.
“I believe everybody is here, so we’ll get started,” said Clemens, standing in front of the screen.
There were thirty-eight wolves present in the room including Clemens and his wife, which meant a few wolves were missing, but nobody voiced their observation. Every member of the pack was intrinsically aware of his pack mates and able to tell without even looking who was missing. The Alpha’s senses were, above all, tuned to the frequencies of his subordinates, and if he said everyone was present, that meant nobody else would be coming.