by SM Reine
A sound from the front of the building draws Raine around. “You don’t have much time. He will follow your scent trail. He’ll come after you even outside the property. I’ve seen him do it to non-pack wolves before.” She grabs me and kisses me, desperation seeping from her pores like cheap cologne. “Be careful.”
Without another word, she slinks down the passage while I creep silently out the backdoor. The light from the moon reveals I’m near the rear of the property, the outline of the mansion looming way too close for comfort. I angle deep into the woods, hoping to come out near my jeep parked along the main road.
My beating heart thunders in my ears as I slip between the tree trunks, trying my best to make as little noise as possible. The urge to run as a wolf burns under my skin, tempting me to succumb to the raw fear pulsing through my veins to let the animal side take control of my safety. A shout sounds far behind me and it takes every ounce of restraint I possess to maintain human shape. I can’t waste time changing back to a human and I can’t drive in furry form.
Increasing my pace, I emerge from the dense growth, unsure if I’m being pursued or if my overactive imagination fears the worst.
Unwilling to waste any time finding out, I hightail it to my jeep. I’m seized by a momentary blinding panic when I realize my wallet, keys, and cell phone are missing from my pockets. What the hell was I thinking? That they wouldn’t search me and take my stuff? Sure, let’s kidnap someone and give them access to their car keys and cell phone, just to make things interesting.
Fucking idiot!
Relief surges through me as I recall the backup set. I lost my keys on a job site and had the foresight to stash a second set in the spare tire hanging on the back.
I dig them out and scramble into the jeep, turning the engine over—the noise shockingly loud in the quiet night. I pull away from the side of the road, returning the way I came, when a figure steps out from the trees directly into the jeep’s path.
I fumble in the darkness and turn on the headlights, flooding the night with the harsh blue-white of the halogen bulbs. The angry face of Cecil, fangs extended, fury etched in every feature, leaps into clarity, pulling a startled shriek from me.
Instead of swerving, I punch the gas, heading straight for the son of a bitch. Hatred burns in his maddened gaze as he jumps to the side, just missing my front left fender. I floor it, getting the heck out as fast as I can, my pulse drumming loudly through my ears.
Glancing constantly in the rearview mirror, I sigh in relief when I reach Route 7.
Holy shit. What have I gotten myself into?
It’s only when I cross the city limits into Leesburg does it hit me: that bloodsucker has my wallet and knows where I live.
Chapter Seven
I stop at my new apartment, throwing every piece of clothing and anything lying around into bags— including a handful of cash, my bills, and my passport—eager to get back on the road. How much time do I have? Where can I go? Leesburg is close to the West Virginia border. Maybe I’ll find a pack there willing to help.
Once again, having no way to connect with fellow werewolves through an organized system leaves me at a disadvantage.
You’re going to beat that dead horse over and over, aren’t you? You could call Romeo and ask for help, you arrogant bastard.
Good point. And I will call him. When it’s broad daylight, where there’s no fear of some bloodsucking nightmare grabbing me in the dark, and after I buy a new phone. This is one of those few times in my life I see the need for a paper address book.
Yeah, if you could find a working payphone.
Some days, technology sucks.
I drive through what remains of the night, adrenaline and fear pushing me hard. I stop in Charlestown, West Virginia near the Maryland border and check into a cheap roadside motel using the scrunched cash I found in my glove compartment and on the dresser in my apartment. I race into the rented room and immediately check all points of entry and exit—two windows near the door are the only way out. No windows line the back. Man, from now on I’m planning better. One lost wallet and cell phone and I’m up shit’s creek.
Yeah, well how often do people get into situations involving a werewolf blood addicted vampire?
God, I have no idea. I hope never again. Once in a lifetime is enough for me. Cold reality hits me like a ton of bricks—I need to figure out a way to help those people. What the hell am I going to do?
How do vampires track prey? Is it scent? Do I need to worry when I’m in a car? Could that son of a bitch track my electronic accounts and know when I access money at my bank?
Paranoia reigns king for about ten minutes, reducing me from a calm collected alpha to a scared young man who hasn’t had much responsibility yet in life. I pace the thin, worn carpet of the small space and try to calm my racing heart.
I’ve got a folder containing bill statements from my apartment. So, I’ll be able to call banks and such using the phone on the nightstand in the morning, requesting all new numbers and cards. That should slow down any cyber tracking, right? Suddenly, I wish I’d paid more attention to those cop shows Lori liked. I’m floundering, unsure what to do or where to turn.
There’s nothing more to be done tonight. I take a shower, scrubbing the last trace of vampire stench from my skin, and slip on fresh clothes—planning to lie down fully clothed, just in case.
When the remaining fear and nervousness fueling me for the last few hours fades to nothing, sheer exhaustion envelops me. I open the drapes, allowing rays from the rising sun into the room to chase away the shadows. I settle on the bed, facing the light, letting its warmth grant me solace as I drift off to sleep.
I jolt awake at noon when the phone rings.
“You missed check out time, sir. It was at eleven.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I checked in less than six hours ago.”
“Oh, terribly sorry, sir. I’m the day shift. I had no idea when you arrived.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not leaving yet. I’ll pay for a late check-out if I have to.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up the phone and stretch, grateful for the wakeup call even if it wasn’t intended as one. I grab my bill folder and start making calls to have new cards issued. Too tense and afraid to remain in one spot for long, I pick a Maryland hotel from the phone book to have the new cards overnighted to.
Next, I need cash. My stomach growls at the reminder I used the last of my money to pay for this place. I climb into my jeep and drive to the local branch address for my bank. Losing every scrap of plastic to identify me is a pain in the ass, but thanks to my passport and bank statements I’m able to prove who I am, getting a much needed cash advance—which will hopefully make me harder to track.
I leave feeling a wash of relief cascade over me. The bank will overnight a new debit card to my next hotel. The wad of cash in my pocket feels reassuring, but I’m still in a tight spot.
Yes, and let’s add in the fact you just withdrew money from your account, idiot.
Dammit! Will this guy really come after me?
Oh, gee, let’s see... you discovered his illegal blood brothel were he sells captive werewolves to any vampire willing to pay. I’d say you’re pretty screwed.
A grunt of frustration leaves me as I try to block the annoying voice in my head. What if I went to the local police? A recounting of yesterday’s events isn’t something any sane cop would believe. They’d probably lock me up as crazy, to boot.
Could I spin the story differently—like human trafficking—and get someone to listen? Only one way to find out.
I need a phone. A sign for a mall comes into view and I head there, hoping to find a wireless store for my carrier. Could Cecil track my calls on a new phone? Relaying my fears for identity theft to the sales rep at the store, he convinces me to just get a whole new number.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I get a new cell and a new number. Alone in my jeep once more, I do a search on my new smartphone for
the nearest state park. If there are Weres in the area, I might get a whiff of their trail in a large expanse of woods. It’s a long shot but I’ve got to try.
Nagging unease slides down my spine as I drive the highway toward Little Bennett Regional Park. I reach for my phone once more, determined to at least attempt contacting my old pack for help. I call Elsa, reasoning my chances of getting information out of her are greater than if I go through Romeo. She answers on the third ring.
“Who is this and how did you get my cell number?”
“Elsa, it’s me, Jon.”
“Jon? Where are you? I’ve been worried sick.”
Yeah, so worried she didn’t even try calling me during the last month. “I returned to Virginia, but not my home town. A place much farther north. I’ve got a job and a place to live.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a smart place for you to be, but you’re on your own now. You left quite a mess here to contend with.”
I wince at her unspoken implications. “I’m not going to apologize for what I did to Kotsana.”
A snort sounds at the end of the line. “No, I guess I wasn’t expecting you to.” She sighs. “What do you need, Jon? I have a feeling you’d only call if there was a reason.”
The exit for the park appears and I take the next turn. “I ran into a really bad situation with the local pack.”
She chuckles. “They don’t want a young hotheaded alpha joining their ranks? Big surprise.”
I squelch the desire to defend myself. I never knew she thought of me that way. “No. I discovered the pack is being held hostage by a vampire with a Were blood addiction. He sells their bodies and blood to visiting vampires.”
“That’s horrible! Their alphas should have had no trouble containing the vampire. Two alphas against one vamp are usually enough.”
“Not when they hold your daughter hostage and then drain you to near death before killing her.”
“Oh God, that poor girl.” She’s silent for a moment and I wonder if Romeo is listening to both sides of the conversation. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Anger boils inside me at her quick self-interested response. “Cannot or will not?”
“Excuse me?”
“You and the pack could help, but you won’t. Isn’t that more accurate?”
Her voice sounds sad, almost resigned. “I may not be happy with the individual nature of each pack and their masters, but it’s how we live. Survival of the fittest, just like in the wild.”
I take one last turn, directly into the public area and maneuver to a vacant lot. “We aren’t wild animals. No matter what we gain from our wolf halves we are still human. Geez, Elsa, even humans look out for each other.”
“It’s not our fight. You can’t expect us to risk our safety for them. We have our own people to protect.”
“Whatever. Thanks for nothing.” I disconnect the call, disheartened it ended so badly. After stopping in the spot closest to the woods, I get out and take a deep breath, letting the feel of the forest seep into my bones.
The smells of old and new growth wraps around me. Rotting leaves, standing water, honeysuckle blossoms, and dark earth vie for prominence in the air. Slowly a calm energy eases into my veins. My inner beast stretches and pushes at my surface thoughts, eager to run. It’s only mid-afternoon. I should be able to run for a few hours without worry of vampires coming after me. I didn’t smell any humans on the mansion’s grounds, so hopefully it’s safe to assume Cecil doesn’t have a stable of human servants he could sic after me at a moment’s notice.
With a quick glance around, I strip and lock my clothes in the truck, then stash my keys in the spare tire. A light breeze moves the hair on my legs, offering a mild a respite to the choking humidity. I call my beast to the surface, a brief searing pain spilling over me as the transformation comes fast. I fall to the ground, my limbs altering as grey-tipped brown fur covers my skin. The subtle scents I noticed before now scream through my head. I take a moment to adjust, lifting my muzzle to the sky and savoring all the woods have to offer.
The scamper of a squirrel sounds to my right, urging me to give chase. I ignore the instinct and race off in the opposite direction, eager to search for a trace of my own kind. I’ve got to find help. Surely local werewolves would care what was happening over the state line? It makes sense that once Cecil’s finished with this pack he’d be looking to replace them with whoever was close by.
After searching for hours, mental exhaustion creeps in. Only the setting sun spurs me back to the safety of my jeep. I didn’t come across one trace of werewolf in the vast forest. I must have raced the almost six square miles at least three times. There’s got to be a better way of finding another pack. Where would werewolves hang out socially in this portion of Maryland? Would they occasionally go to a local bar like we did in Manitoba?
I shake my head at my vain attempt in grasping straws. I’m screwed and I know it. Searching like this could take forever. If a smart animal doesn’t want to be found, chances are you won’t find it.
But what about an arrogant creature unafraid of being discovered by animals they deem below them in the pecking order? I recall hearing vampires are better organized than we are, and they have rules of conduct, too. What if I found one—would they help my cause or consider what Cecil was doing to be normal? I’d like to think if it were normal I would’ve heard about the barbaric practice of keeping a horde of Weres for a blood addiction.
Shrugging on my clothes, I slip into the cold truck and make my way out of the park.
Would searching for a vampire be any easier? There’s only one way to find out. From what I was told, vampires like cities. Lots of victims to choose from in a confined territory. That settles it. I’ll start right after I stay the night in the Maryland hotel and get my replacement cards tomorrow.
Looks like I’m headed to Washington DC to find me a bloodsucker.
The irony of such a statement regarding a town full of politicians is not lost on me.
Chapter Eight
I wander our nation’s capital for two days with no luck. Considering how jaded I’ve felt since discovering the supernatural world really does exist, I’m strangely disappointed our judicial system and governing body is not overrun by power hungry, undead creatures of the night. It would be convenient if we could blame our country’s current problems on another species with a nefarious agenda.
Scouring the city in my wolf form late at night might not be the safest way to conduct a search, but it’s the only way I can think to accurately trace a vampire in this overwhelming soup of exhaust, exotic foods, and depressing stench of under-washed bodies. Searching as a wolf also helps me keep on the lookout for Raine’s master vamp should he still be out for my blood. Nothing beats a werewolf’s nose as an early warning detection system for danger.
I trot across the National Mall, the large expanse of real estate between the Capital building and the Washington monument. Sparse trees and a moonless night offer the cover I need to explore the area undetected. Yesterday, I caught a hint of a vampire scent at the newly opened World War II Memorial and wanted to come back today to investigate further—the appearance of an animal control van last night deterred me from following the lingering vampire trail onto the streets.
Creeping along the ground, my jaw open to catch all the night’s scents, I come across the same intriguing scent from yesterday, only this time it’s fresher. Once I single out the trail from all the crisscrossing human odors, I follow it away from the new memorial.
The scent mingles tightly with a human male, and both meander along the edge of the mall, in the direction of the Smithsonian Castle.
Small side gardens dot the sidewalk along Jefferson Drive, each one designed to pull in the visitor to walk through the display. The pair stopped at each garden, lingering over every signpost dedicated to a person, cause, or battle. It’s almost like the pair are sightseeing—in the dark.
A vampire sightseeing at
night in our nation’s capital?
I heard the really old ones could tolerate the sun a little, so depending on their aversion level, I guess it makes sense—albeit an odd sense, but whatever.
After an hour of tracking, I hit pay dirt. The trail leads to a dark corner of a small empty park, sculpted trees and manicured bushes hiding the vampire and her companion. A light breeze changes course, bringing the smell of sex and blood.
Could the man with this vampire be in danger? Is it forced blood taking like Raine and her pack have endured? Will the bloodsucker drain him dry and leave his corpse hidden in the bushes?
Unsure what to do, I slink forward on my belly, creeping quietly through the well-tended beds to get a view of what’s going on. A small stone table bracketed by two curved benches appears. A woman sits on the table, her long flowing skirt rucked up to her hips, the edges of the fabric trailing toward the ground. The human man I scented earlier kneels between her thighs.
The pungent aroma of aroused female saturates the humid air, the musky scent laced with the subtle undertones of vampire. The woman must be the creature I’ve been tracking.
She’s a slight woman with ample curves, full breasts exposed over her bra cups. One arm supports her on the table’s surface while her free hand fondles one pert nipple. Two long strands of thin chain hang between her breasts, some type of large bead on each end. The teardrop-shaped beads sway with each moan of pleasure and gasp of breath.
The vampire’s fingers tweak and tease one engorged peak while the man works between her legs. Her head lolls back, her long hair drifting past the edge of the stone surface. “I’m going to come, baby.” The woman’s pleasure rips through her body, igniting tiny convulsions as she swallows her groans behind closed lips.
“So controlled, Dria,” the man says as he stands and shoves down his pants with both hands. “I like to hear you scream.”
These two are not new lovers, nor is this a passing man the vampire has picked up to seduce and abuse. I should stealthily back away and leave them to their privacy. But I’m drawn to the two lovers, excited by their chemistry.
