Werewolf WIP

This is my first try at posting anything I've tried to write.  Punctuation is not my forte, so any advice is very much appreciated.

Werewolf Down (working title)

by Dragonboy

ONE

April 1 – 11:05 pm
         The evening air was crisp and cool, the moon almost at Full.  The usual forest noises were replaced by sounds of running, breaking branches, ragged breathing.  And voices.  “Go ahead,” a gruff voice yelled.  “Keep running freak!  It won't help you.  You're still gonna die!”
         “You ready to die werebitch?” came a female voice.  “Ready to go to hell?”  A gunshot rang out.
          Keita screamed as a bullet zinged past her head and she tripped over a large tree root.  She wasn't used to being hunted in this way.  Her mind was racing.  Oh my god, she thought, they're trying to kill me.  She managed to get to her feet, jerking her head from side to side, trying to locate her hunters.  Where are they?  Choosing a course to the left, Keita started running again.  She had to get out of these woods.  Maybe someone would be driving by?  Perhaps a Sheriff on patrol?  Don't be stupid, she chastised herself, It's after Midnight....and that only happens in the movies and T.V., this is real life.  She stifled a  laugh.  I'm about to die alone in the woods and I see a lame freaking movie plot!  And of course, the irony was rich....her name was Celtic Scot meaning 'woods.'  Wow, the places a mind goes under stress!
         Suddenly it struck her: as much as she hated it, she was a werewolf and could smell them.  She spotted a fallen tree and ran for it, ducking down behind it.  Taking a couple breaths and trying to calm her nerves, Keita closed her eyes and lifted her nose and began sniffing the air.  It wouldn't be easy.  There was no breeze tonight.
         After a few moments, Keita became frustrated.  She couldn't smell anything other than the forest scents.  She quickly decided to move to another spot and try again.  Scanning the direction she had come from, the young Were saw a likely cluster of trees.  She dashed out from her cover and made for the new location.           Just a few paces away from it, Keita heard another gunshot and felt a stinging pain in her right leg.
          “Son of a...”she blurted out.  Keita faltered and fell back on her ass.  An involuntary “Oof” escaped her lips.  Blood steadily trickled from the wound in her leg.  The pain was sharp but bearable.
         Then it occurred to her...they're not using silver.  Fucking Morons!, she thought.  Now she was both pissed and insulted.  This was just too much.  Rage grew inside her, out of control.
         No longer able to contain the beast within her, Keita began to change.  The air rippled around her...punctuated  by screams, then snarls of a very angry werewolf.
         She let out a blood curdling roar and bounded forward, once again sniffing at the air to try and catch any human scent.  It irritated her that she still couldn't smell them.  Her senses were heightened in wolf form.  She should be picking them up.
         “Aww, isn't that cute.  She's gone doggy.”  It was the same female voice that had taunted her before.  That same snide, high sing-song voice that made her want to taste the woman's blood.
         “Gee, I wonder if it has fleas now?” came the gruff one.  “I hope not.  That flea shampoo stinks to high hell.”  Definitely a male voice.  Oh yeah, he can die too.
         Fleas?  I'll give him something worse than fleas to worry about!  Give them all something worse to worry about.  Though they won't have to worry for long., thought Keita.  She headed off to her right, hoping to catch sight of then.  Maybe even come up behind them.  Then see who's the hunter.
         She had gone perhaps fifteen feet before she caught a movement.  A brief glimpse of red.  How appropriate.  Idiots.  Hunting a werewolf in a forest wearing red.  She circled around a tree slowly and there the sing-song bitch was.  Dressed in tight blue jeans, a red flannel shirt and blue baseball cap.  The 5'6” woman was also carrying a rifle in front of her and looked like a pistol on her left hip.
         Keita found it a little bit odd that she didn't see anyone else, but then, they were probably better at this than the soon-to-be-dead bitch was.  The Were kept moving around, slowly, still looking out for the woman's friend.  No sign of him.  She decided it was time to cause some pain and suffering herself.
         Beginning to trot, then run, Keita headed straight for the arrogantly oblivious woman.  With a leap, leading with her front paws,  she barreled into the woman's back knocking her to the ground.  Keita heard a satisfying “Oof” as air rushed out of the female's lungs.  She was also pretty sure she heard some bones breaking.
         She raked down the woman's back with her claws.  The woman shrieked and blood flowed profusely.  It stained the red shirt a darker shade.  As pleasing as the sound was to Keita, she needed the woman to shut up.  She grabbed the screaming woman's neck in her powerful jaws and
clamped down quickly and tightly.  She tasted the gush of blood and savored the definitive snap of the neck.  All the same, she jerked her head from side to side a couple times as a coup de gras.
         “You evil, fucking whore bitch!”  roared the gruff male from somewhere behind her.
         “Terrence,” a softer male voice said, “there is no need for that sort of talk.  The damned cannot help what they are.  We must show them compassion as we send them to the Lord.”
         “Compassion?  Have you lost your ever-lovin, self righteous mind?  That FREAK just killed Evelynn.”
         “You both knew there were risks in the Lord's work.  Now calm yourself.  We have a soul to send to it's judgment.”
         Keita pricked her ears around to listen to the men.  She turned to scan the area behind her, but did not see them.  Suddenly, the two men popped into view from behind some trees, both with weapons ready.
         The taller male was similarly dressed in hunter chic.  Boots, jeans, flannel shirt, combat vest and baseball cap.  He looked to be carrying a shotgun and a large pistol at his side.
         “DIE BITCH!” he bellowed as he raised the shotgun and fired.  Taken by surprise at how fast it happened, she hadn't even moved from atop the dead woman when the deadly silver shot hit her in the flank.  The pain was all consuming.  An intense burning that stopped all thought.
         She writhed in agony as her side bled.  Her breath came in torturous pants.  The silver kept her from healing and the blood continued to flow, her life ebbing away.  The men quickly closed to stand over her.  Terrence spat on her dying form.
         The shorter man looked down at her with something like pity.  He raised a large handgun and pointed it at her head.  “Go to the Lord, child.  In nomine Patri, Et Fili, Spiritus Sancti.” and pulled the trigger.

# # # #

April 2 – 09:21 pm
         Sitting at a table with his friends, Dylan took another sip of his rum and cola,  ice tinkling in the glass lightly.  He set it down and smiled a little smile.
         It had been his first relatively quiet day in awhile and was looking like it would be a relaxing evening.  Well, maybe relaxing wasn't the right word.  Enjoyable, perhaps?  Yes, that was the right term.  Enjoyable.
         Dylan Tyler had been rather busy the last week.  And his latest client had been a real pain in his ass.  Oh, the job was pretty straight forward.  Your basic escort/bodyguard duty.  But the guy was whinny.  And needy.  And arrogant.  Rich, vamp loving asswipe!
         No, he didn't have a problem with rich folks.  Mostly, anyway.  And it wasn't his place to say who the client chose to do business with.  Even though most vampires were untrustworthy.  But this guy wouldn't be on his buddy list any time soon.  Not that the man would care anyway. He was a self-absorbed prick.  To him, Dylan was just hired help.  The best firm in the region, but still just “the help.”
         “Hey bossman,” said Benjamin, “I thought the work day was over?”  His friend must have seen that he seemed to be elsewhere.
         “I know, and it is.  Thank gods.  I think if I had to deal with him one more day...” he left the rest hanging.  What would he have done, really?  Yell?  Give back his check?  Yeah, right.  The pretentious bastard was safe, owing to Tyler's work ethics.  But that didn't mean he couldn't raise his fees if the man ever wanted to hire him again.  Which,  of course, was a possibility.
         “Oh...s'matter Dyl, bad rich man make Sir Growls-a-lot unhappy?” remarked Else in her slight German accent.  She pursed her lips in a little pouty gesture, but there was a sparkle in her eyes.
         “Why Mrs. Shultz, if I didn't know better I'd think you were unsympathetic to our good Mr. Tyler.” remarked Benjamin with a mock frown.
         She chuckled.  “I have plenty of sympathy for him 'Mr. Evens'.  But the point is thus...the job is finished, yes?  Why brood over it?  Cash the check and be done of him.”  She grinned and chomped down on a pretzel.
         Dylan ate a couple of the mini-pretzels himself, then winked at Else.  “Point well taken, mom.” he laughed.  “But some folks really do try the patience sometimes.”
         Else nodded and chortled.  “That they do sweetie, that they do.”  She got up from the table with her empty glass, asking if they wanted anything.  Ben did, Dylan didn't.
         After she had walked off to retrieve more drinks, Benjamin turned his attention to Dylan.  “Okay, spill it Dyl.  You're way broodier than usual.  Especially after a job well done.  I've seen you quiet after a mission, but this job wasn't anything like those.  You okay?”
         “Yeah.”  No.  “I'm fine.”  Liar.  “It's just...stuff, ya know?”  He hoped Ben wouldn't see through that and just let it go.
         “Uh-huh.” Ben said, leaning back and folding his arms.  “And I'm a purple fairy with shinny blue wings.  Cut the bullshit.  I know you better than that.”  He just stared at Dylan, waiting.
         “Look, Ben...I know you're just concerned, and I appreciate it.  Honestly, I do.  But I really don't wanna talk about it now, okay?”  He took a long gulp of his drink and set it down a little harder than he intended.  There was an audible thump on the wooden table and some of the beverage sloshed out of the glass.
         “Oh yeah, you're just peachy.” Ben said sarcastically.  “So when do you want to talk about it?  After you're so stressed it affects work?  You can only keep shit bottled up so long bef...”
         “I said enough, okay?”  Dylan glared at his best friend.  “We'll talk about it some other time.”  Gods, why am I being such an asshole to him all the sudden?
         He knew why, but he didn't think his buddy would really understand the things actually bothering him.  And as good of friends as they were, he just didn't feel like discussing some aspects of his private life.  Especially now, here in The Grove.
         “Damn, Dyl.  Chill out man.  Hell, maybe you just need to get laid. Go find yourself a woman and get it out of your system.  Probably ma...”
         “Fuck you, Benny!” Dylan spat out, jumping up from his chair, which clattered behind him and fell on it's back.  He stalked off into the crowded room of the bar.


         “What's that all about?” asked Else, returning with drinks.  She looked from the stunned Ben to the fast moving man she had know for the last couple years then back to Benjamin.
         “I'm not really sure.” he said.  “But I think I hit a nerve.”  Ben watched his best friend disappear into the mass of people, most of whom were Weres of one sort or another.
         “Well, what did you say?” she inquired.
         “I was trying to see what was bothering him tonight.  He just got all pissed off.  That's really not like him.”  Ben was looking very concerned, brows furrowing.
         “Have you always been able to talk about things that bother him?”  Else realized that as much as she knew about her friends, there was a lot that she didn't know.
         “Pretty much.  We've know each other for several years.  We served together in the Corp. and that can create a certain bond itself.  I think he knows more about me than my girlfriend does.”  He couldn't help a little smile at that.  “We talk about work.  We talk about our families.  Hell, we even talk about our health.  We know each other's favorite foods and drinks.  Movies and books.  I just don't get it.” he said, looking thoughtful.
         “Maybe he's having girl trouble?” she posed.  “That can certainly make a guy cranky.
         “Hmmm.  Possible, I guess.  We've never really discussed that subject.” he commented.  “Well, to be more accurate, we've never talked about his girlfriend.  Talk about mine all the time though.”  Ben chuckled and took a drink of his Johnnie Walker.
         Else smiled at his amusement.  But she did note that the grin was short lived.  He was clearly worried.  “So, “ she spoke up, “tell me more about this bad rich man?


         Dylan had been lurking in a dark corner for the last half hour.  He was terribly concerned about his outburst at Benjamin.  Gods, I hope I haven't pissed him off too far.
         He wished it was as simple as what Ben suggested.  But it wasn't.  Some random hook-up wouldn't solve anything.  Not long term anyway.  He knew that his friend was only trying to help and he himself had added to the problem by excluding Ben from this part of his life.  How could I expect him to understand what's going on?
         Dylan had kept it to himself mostly because he was afraid.  Yeah, the bad-ass former Marine afraid of his friend.  What would Ben think of him?  Would he even still want to be his friend?
         He pulled himself together and got up from his corner of introspection.  Time to go and apologize, and face the music.  He fully expected Ben to be pissed as hell at him.  Rightfully so, too.  He wouldn't even blame him if he had left.
         Dylan headed through the dancing Weres and Mundanes to the bar.  He ordered fresh drinks for his friends (peace offerings) and took them to the table, hoping that they were still here.
         He was relieved to see that they were, indeed, still sitting there.  Dylan walked up to the table with a sheepish grin on his face and set the drinks down before his two friends.  “Drinks?”, apprehension in his voice.  He remand standing, waiting for some cue.
         Else smiled at him.  “Why thanks liebe.”  She took the offered beverage and took a sip.
         “What the fuck was that all about?” snapped Benjamin.  He just stared at Dylan.
         “Umm...” murmured Dylan.  He didn't meet his friend's gaze.  For a moment, he thought seriously of taking off.  “I'm sorry Ben.  I....I was way out of line.”
         “Ya think?  What happened to being friends?  To telling each other when something's buggin us?  Remember that?  Goddamn it Dyl, I can't help if I don't know what the problem is.  Please, just talk to me.  We'll work it out.”
         “Thanks Ben, but this just isn't the time or place.  But I promise” he said, hands up in supplication, “we'll talk.”  Dylan sat and fidgeted with his glass.  They had been close to death by each other's side many times, but that conversation terrified him.  And he would try to delay it as long as he could.  But he would have it...he had promised.
         The friends slowly settled back into their usual flow, the blow up almost as if it had not happened.  Dylan mentioned a couple possible new clients.  No details of course, wouldn't be ethical with the mixed company at the table.  And Else filled them in on her week.  Office politics.  Her up coming vacation, and so on.


         The normal sounds of The Grove were brought to a sudden halt by a loud bellow over the P.A. system.  “QUIET!  NEWS!”
         The television screens throughout the place all turned to the same station as the volume was cranked up.  “...stigation is underway.” said the attractive young blonde news woman.  The bullet graphic behind her showed the words 'ANIMAL ATTACK!' in a red, claw-gashed style.  As she continued, the graphic was replaced by video footage of the scene.  The screen showed two groups of people around what appeared to be covered bodies.  The activity looked like something out of one of those popular crime scene television programs.  Also present were several uniformed police officers.  Off to one side, a red headed man in a khaki colored suit was speaking with a woman in gym shorts, tank-top and running shoes.  He was holding a notepad and pen.  “Melanie Sanders, a Bellhaven resident,” she continued, “made a shocking discovery while out for an early morning jog in the woods not far from her home.  The bodies of thirty-five year old Evelynn Morris,  and twenty-four year old Keita Monroe were found within ten feet or each other.  Sources say that it appears that Ms. Morris was attacked by a wild animal. Authorities have no comment on an ongoing investigation.  No details have been released on the death of Miss Monroe at this time...And now for the sports report...”
         The sound was turned down on the television and The Grove was quiet for several moments.  Slowly, conversations resumed.  Most of them about the news.

         “Does anyone think that was a little odd?” asked Dylan.  He looked pensive.  Something bothered him about that report.
         “What do you mean, Dyl?” inquired Ben.
         “I think I know what he's getting at.” remarked Else.
         “Care to enlighten me then?” Ben smirked, looking from Else to Dylan.
         “Well,” started Dylan, “They said that it looked like that one woman was attacked by an animal, but nothing about the other one.  Just seemed a little weird to me.”
         “Yeah, me too.” added Ben.
         “Indeed.” said Else.  She was looking very sad.  “And for something even weirder...I knew Keita.  She worked at my branch of the credit union.”


# # # #

April 9 – 09:50 am
         "Mr. Tyler," said Selah, "your ten o'clock appointment is waiting to see you."  The lithe woman paused in the doorway for his acknowledgment before exiting.  She was a fit forty-five year old and a  veteran of the Israel Defense Forces.  At 5' 8" and 140 pounds, she was still very capable, should the need arise.  Of course, being a Were didn't hurt either.  Her platinum blond hair and periwinkle eyes gave off a surreal effect and masked the sharp mind she possessed.  Only a fool would presume her a 'dumb blond' and deserve what they got because of it.

         A moment later, a fifty-something gentleman entered his office.  Dylan stood, taking in his newest client.  The man stood at 5' 10" and had a fair build.  He had dark brown, neatly cut hair and expressive hazel eyes.  His skin was the sun-tanned of someone who spends a great deal of time outdoors.  Dylan's nostrils flared slightly as he detected the scent of a Were about the man.  He was dressed in a well cut suit of charcoal gray and a teal dress shirt with a burgundy tie.  There were the faintest hints of crow's feet around his eyes.
         “Mr. Mooregrove.  Welcome to Pacific Security Services.” Dylan greeted, extending his hand over his desk.  The gentleman had rough hands and a strong handshake.  A sure sign of a hard worker in his book.  “Please, have a seat.” he said, motioning the man to the leather chair there before taking his own.  “What can I do for you today?” he inquired.
         “I understand you cover large events, Mr. Tyler.” Mooregrove began.  “I am in the middle of planning my daughter's wedding.  And the attendance is expected to be extensive.”
         “What kind of numbers are we looking at?” Dylan asked.
         “We're in the neighborhood of one thousand, just in the guests.  Plus the catering staff and entertainment, etcetera.”
         Dylan nodded and made a few notes.  “Are we providing all of the security for the event, or do you have some people of your own as well?”
         “Frankly Mr. Tyler, that's what I'm coming to you for.  One less thing for me to have to deal with, ya know?”  Mooregrove grinned.
         Dylan smiled.  “I understand completely.”  He jotted some more on his notepad.  “Before we go any further, may I ask how you came by Pacific Security?” pen poised over pad.  He was trying to see if his hunch was correct.  “You know....Phone-book, website, business card?”
         Mooregrove sat quietly for several seconds.  Dylan could see by his facial expressions that the man was considering his reply.  After half a minute, he finally said “Word of mouth.”
         Dylan arched a brow.  “Word of mouth?”  he questioned.  The reply wasn't really a surprise, he just wanted more information.
         “Yes.” stated Mooregrove.  He clasped his hands in his lap.  “I was referred to you by a business associate.  I had been lunching with him and we got to talking about the wedding and all the planning and so on.  He told me your firm had done some work for him and that I should give you a call.  And here I am.” he finished, opening his hands in an expansive gesture.
         “I don't suppose you would give me his name?” asked Dylan.
         “Let's stop wasting time beating around the bush, Mr. Tyler, shall we?  What you really want to know is if my friend is a member of our community.”  Mooregrove paused, watching Dylan's reaction.  He noted his slight nod and continued.  “Yes, he is....and yes, this is a Were wedding.  Next question?” he said, tersely.
         The former Marine smiled broadly and laughed.  “How about we start with would you please call me Dylan?  Mr Tyler is a guy in his 50's who lives in California.”
         The older man grinned and said “Fair enough, Dylan.  And you can call me Howard.  My employees call me Mr. Mooregrove.”
         “Well then, Howard...my next pertinent question is....is it an all Were affair, or mixed?”
         “The happy couple are Weres, as are most of the guests.  There will be some Mundanes in attendance, but they know about us.”
         “Okay.  And the Weres....all wolves?”
         “No.  There are a few others in there.  Bears, Cougars, and a couple of Tigers, I believe.”
         “Well now, that's an interesting mix.  How are they for temperament?  I know,it's an unusual question to be asking.  But given the....uh....aggressive nature of the types, I think it is a reasonable one.”
         “Oh, I understand.  It's a very valid concern.  I'm pleased to say that most are rather well tempered.  And any hotheads have already been talked to and seated accordingly.”
         “Good to know.”  Dylan continued gathering information for another half hour before making arrangements to check out the wedding site to get better details on the location for further planning.  Only a couple more clients to go and then some field work.