“They moved away—”
“I heard that, and I’m glad. I don’t want to have to deal with them anymore. I don’t know if you know this, but I had to capture their alpha, and now he’s dead… They’re going to want to kill me if I go near them.”
“So save yourself from a lifetime of fear and worrying and looking over your shoulder.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Do you even know where they are?” Amad demands.
“No,” I admit.
“Each city you go to, they could be there. You may have changed your scent, but your attire, your hair, your face… They will recognize you. And that wish…”
“I can’t handle all of them.”
“You do not have to do this alone.”
I shake my head, but the word alone strikes me. If I could find a way to kill the werewolves one at a time… It just might be feasible after all.
“Why do you want them dead?” I ask. “I assume there’s a reason.”
“There is a very good reason behind it, and I don’t even mind that you’re asking.”
I roll my eyes. Yes, in the early days, I made a big deal of my discretion and my lack of questions, but now that it’s clear my name has spread all the way to California, I think my reputation in results should be enough that I can ask a question here or there.
“They’ve moved to York. Under their new alpha, they’re going around killing the homeless. The pack will continue to rage out of control if left unchecked.”
That is terrible. My heart goes out to those poor souls. They’re the weakest society has to offer, and that they’re specifically targeting people who won’t be missed right away is even more despicable.
“Why are they doing that?” I ask.
“That I cannot say for certain.”
“But here, they killed every few months. You’re making it sound like it’s daily.”
“Or even more than one a day,” he says sadly.
Amarok. That werewolf vampire zombie creature. Somehow or another, they have to be channeling him. Before, the killing was just on and off for years, but to make this leap…
Maybe Wyatt had been doing a better job of keeping his pack in check than I thought.
“Why move away? Why kill so many? What’s changed? I mean, I know they have a new alpha, but…” I shake my head.
“You’re frightened.”
I glower at the genie. “I am. I’m not stupid. Werewolves don’t usually kill like this. They don’t normally attack humans. They’re better than that. They aren’t inherently evil.”
“And they have a reason to hate you. I understand. I just want you to do what is best for the world.”
“Because I’m the world’s keeper,” I grumble. “Or you. Why do you care?”
“I can only do so much,” he says. “As a genie, I am bound by the laws of my magic. I cannot always do whatever I wish with it, ironically enough.”
“If you could, you would.”
“Yes. I do not relish the idea of sending a human against a pack of bloodthirsty werewolves, but genies do not mix well with others. Too many of them are as greedy as humans. They all wish to use me. You, at least, are willing to give and take, and I commend you for that, although I do wish you would be a bit more judicial with your choices when accepting or rejecting your jobs. You have captured the alpha, and you are a capable fighter. I do believe you can do this and find a way to survive.”
I swallow hard. “If what you say about them is true…”
“Go to York. See for yourself, and then you decide whether or not to accept the job.”
Amad nods to me and, in a blink, disappears.
It’s a long, boring three-and-a-half-hour trek to York, but I figure it’s better to drive than to ask Vinca for more travel dust. One, I don’t want to abuse our friendship, and two, I have an entire city to scope out. Having a car will make that a lot easier to handle versus traversing everywhere on foot. Yes, I can spend the half a million I’ve saved up since I don’t need that greedy witch Myrtle Von Stein’s help anymore, but I’ve been frugal for so long that it’s seeped into my bones.
There are plenty of vineyards, and some of the buildings look really old, giving the town a quaint little feel. It’s so very wrong for them to settle in a place like this. I bet a lot of people know each other’s names here, the kind of place where there are no secrets.
All the more reason for me to go after the werewolves then. They might be too big of a risk for exposing the world to the existence of paranormal creatures.
Theoretically, they should be on HEX U’s radar then, and if that’s the case, hunters or slayers, or executioners might be on their way.
But if they are doing what Amad says they’re doing, then I want to be the one to take them down. I want that wish. I just hope that Amad picks something a little less likely to kill me for the second one.
I book myself a hotel room, freshen up, eat, and go to bed. It’s not nighttime, but the darkened hours will be the ones for me to search. At least, I assume they’re killing the homeless as werewolves and not as their human selves.
It takes me two nights before I find something worthwhile. There’s a road that’s blocked off, leading to what looks like an abandoned building. It kind of looks like a part of a castle. It’s there that I hear a lot of animalistic sounds, like grunts and growls.
I roll down my window and wince at the sound of frantic feet hitting the pavement. The rhythmic sound is probably nothing at all like the frenzied, urgent pounding of the runner's heart. There's a cry, a yelp, another cry, and then the sound of animals eating comes to me.
I close my eyes, and tears fall. Once again, I’m too slow, and my target—targets in this case—has killed again.
But no more. I’ll do it. I’ll take on the job.
Even if it kills me.
Chapter 22
Much later that night, in the hotel room, I talk aloud as if Amad is in the room.
“I’ll do it. I accept. One wish, you already know what it’ll be for, and in exchange, I’ll kill the Blood Moon pack. I’ll wipe them out. Every last one. Do we have a deal?”
Without warning, the genie appears in a puff of dark green smoke.
“We do,” he says grandly. He holds out his hand.
“We have to shake?” I ask as I accept his hand.
Amad shakes vigorously. “We do.”
I harrumph. After Morena grabbed my hand and read my palm without my consent, I don’t like to be touched more than is necessary.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get it done. I’m not stupid.”
“Are you certain you do not wish for an ally?”
“Are you volunteering?” I glance at the genie. “Why don’t you just kill them?”
“Genie rules are biding. The first was created to be a creature of captivity, and so, even now, we are limited in what we can and cannot do.”
"So, no genie can kill ever?" I ask, curious.
“Perhaps the strongest and most evil of my kind could, but I do not know of that ever happening.”
“Not even when wished?” I murmur.
Amad does not answer.
“But wait. I’m confused. You said that the wisher dies…”
“Evolution can sometimes be incredibly powerful but also evil,” he says sadly. “I would have rather us evolved far differently, but alas, I am not the one that controls such matters.”
I say nothing. What can I say to make him feel better? It sounds like being a genie is terrible.
“In better news, I can provide you with certain items. Sharp items or small round items.”
“Do you mean weapons?” I grin. “Silver bullets, as many as you can spare. A second set of silver knuckles would be nice. Silver-tipped stakes for my crossbow.”
“Would you care for an angel feather too?” the genie asks.
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“An angel feather?”
“They can be tur
ned into a blade, as can a demon’s. Both can cut through nearly anything. I do not have access to a demon feather at the moment, but I do have access to an angel’s.”
“I’ll take it!”
Amad crosses his arms. His smoke slowly rises to cover his entire form as well as my coffee table. When the last tendrils dissipate, my coffee table is still littered with a book, papers, my remote, and various pieces of junk mail but also boxes of silver bullets, the angel feather turned dagger, and five silver-tipped stakes.
“No silver knuckles?” I ask as I pick up the dagger. The entire hilt is carved to look like the tip of a feather. The blade itself still resembles a feather, but it’s pure metallic now. I don’t know how it had been treated to become like this, but it’s insanely thin and sharp. I just know it’s going to be durable too.
“I have provided you with all of this, and yet you complain?”
“I’m teasing,” I say quickly, hoping he won’t take them away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful. Thank you for all of this.”
He harrumphs. “Once this is done, you will return these.”
I grimace but nod. “If I must.”
“Rebel,” he says warningly.
“All right!”
He disappears in a puff of smoke.
"Geez." So much for hoping to misplace the angel feather turned dagger.
Still, I feel so much better prepared, and I packed up everything I had from my house and the storage unit before I drove out. I had a feeling Amad wouldn’t lie to me and that I would be accepting the job. Even if he had lied, I would’ve considered it anyhow. He made a good point about looking over my shoulder. Yes, I changed my scent, but my face is still the same. My identity isn’t a secret. People have to be able to find me to hire me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have any jobs, and that just wouldn’t be acceptable.
I settle in for a restless night's sleep. In the morning, I start to do some research, first on the regular internet. The missing homeless people aren't going unnoticed. Just yesterday, there had been an article published about how regulars are missing from their normal spots, and people are starting to become worried. So far, they don't suspect foul play but are talking about the numbers. It's only a matter of time before they realize something really is going on.
All that boils down to slightly increased police activity. Noted. I don’t want to risk getting arrested. I haven’t had a parking or speeding ticket. My record, according to the human world, is completely blank. For the paranormal world of mayhem and magic, well… my ledger isn’t exactly clean.
Hey, whatever pays the bills…
Supes.com doesn’t have much at all on it as far as the Blood Moon pack or why it moved, and I find that very suspicious. It takes a lot of digging, but finally, I stumble upon a gold mine—a census of all of the registered werewolves in Pennsylvania. I can even check out other states too. Now, I don’t know why they’re registered, and they aren’t grouped by their packs either. Worse, I don’t know how many unregistered werewolves there are, but I find one member of the Blood Moon pack and another and another. Yep, not all of them are listed. Still, now I have names, and in ten minutes, I have addresses. Interestingly enough, they are all in apartments but different ones.
Hmm. At random, I decide that I will target Colby Matteson. His apartment is on the ground floor, perfect for spying.
I don't know if it'll be easier to try to kill him during the day or late at night, but the best part about the census is that each name has a picture. Colby looks like a werewolf even in human form. His eyebrows touch and look like a thick, furry earthworm above his eyes, which are a seriously light brown color that I've never seen in a human. His beard and mustache are insane, and even though the picture is just a headshot, you can see how thick his neck is. He looks like he can bench press a massive oak and squat a house. Insane.
I do not want to grapple with him. No hand-to-hand with him. Crossbow or gun, for the win!
Because of his size, I think it will be easier to go after him at night and potentially as a wolf. Once the sun sets, I can be found in my car, watching his place. He came by earlier with a woman, and they left around dinnertime. If she comes back with him, I might have to wait for another night or else start to look into someone else.
Someone must be smiling down on me because he shows up around eleven alone. He parks and starts for the front door when he hesitates, sniffs, and looks around.
Immediately, I face forward. Between my sunglasses and a hat, combined with my altered scent, I should be good.
Except I hear boots on gravel and then a knock on my window.
You have to be kidding me. It’s not as if my license plate should give me away. I’m still in Pennsylvania. Wait. They do have a database for license plates, don’t they? Maybe it did give me away. You have got to be kidding me.
He knocks on my window again.
I roll my eyes and heave a sigh and turn just enough that he can see that I have my phone by my ear. "Grayson, I told you that I would call now, and you swore you would pick up, but no. You never ever do what you say you're going to do, do you? I can't take this anymore. If you hadn't shown up at my work yesterday, I would've thought you ghosted on me. Just be a man, okay? That's all I want, for you to take…"
I trail off and glance over. Colby Matteson remains standing there.
“Grayson, there’s a scary-looking guy standing outside of my car. I know you can’t hear me, that it’s a voicemail for your—”
He bangs again with his fist, and a spider crack starts.
“Seriously?” I roar.
I hang up and legit start to call 911.
“You really want to do that, Rebel?” he asks with a chuckle. “All that blood on your hands.”
I glance at my hands. “I don’t see any blood. A few nails that need to be filed, and I’ve never had a manicure. You want to pay for it? No? Well, you are gonna pay for my window.”
“I don’t think so. Either you open up, or else I’m going to rip your door off.”
"I don't…" I sigh again and slam the door open, trying to hurt him, but he barely lets it open. I can't fit through the tight opening.
Moving faster than I would’ve thought possible, he rushes around the door, flings it open to the point that it makes a twisted metal sound, and grabs the back of my collar. He lifts me into the air, and my fist, silver knuckles already on, connects with his nose.
“You—”
My other hand’s already holding my special angel blade, and I bury it in his gut. He gasps and reaches for my neck with his other hand, but I’m already stabbing him over and over again. Blood sprays everywhere, and eventually, his hold loosens.
Before he drops me, though, I draw my arm back to my ear and whip it forward. The angel blade is so very strong and solid despite being thin that it doesn’t just slice his throat. I decapitate him. His head connects with my already weak window, and the glass shatters.
Whoa!
Cursing to myself, I quickly wrap him in a tarp and shove him into my backseat. At least I have a bag for his head. I have to drive off with my broken window, but thankfully, I don’t get a flat driving out of the spot.
That is the worst part about killing, disposing of the body.
Actually… The werewolves are going to know immediately that one is missing. They’ll smell his blood in the parking lot. They might even be able to locate my car now. Why not leave the body for them as a present?
So that’s exactly what I do. I dump Colby Matteson’s body on Chestnut Street near that abandoned castle-looking building that looks more like a prison now that it’s nighttime, and I hightail it away.
As soon as the carwash is open the next morning, I have my car washed. Yes, even with the busted window. I shove a ton of the smelliest flowers I can buy into the car, in the glove compartment and the trunk, everywhere.
Wait. How did he smell me?
Back in the hotel now, I call up Mirella. “A quick question if yo
u have a minute.”
“For you, I have two.”
“I took a potion to change my scent so werewolves won’t be able to find me, but he found me anyhow. Could it have worn off?”
“What do you smell like now?”
“Lilac and cinnamon.”
Mirella groans. “I’m sorry. That is basically the default new scent. If she had put a little effort into it, she could have made you smell like anything. Vanilla and cloves. Soap and the ocean. Honey and, well, you get the idea.”
“Wow, am I glad I helped Darius kill her.”
There’s silence on the other line.
“Thanks.”
“Rebel, are you in trouble?”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Did the werewolves—”
“My two minutes are up. Thank you!”
I hang up.
Great. Just great. I basically have a bull’s eye on me for the werewolves. Anytime they smell someone with this scent, they know the person is trying to run away and hide.
Even though I’m sure Mirella can fix this, I can’t risk the Blood Moon pack fleeing for another city. I’m here. They’re here, and I’m going to stay here until the job is done.
Unfortunately, it takes me almost a week to be able to find the next werewolf alone. At least he’s hunting down someone in his wolf form, and I’m able to stake him from afar. Bonus, I can retrieve the stake.
But that’s only two down. There are far too many to go yet.
This is going to take a long time, and that’s the last thing I want because the public is starting to realize there is a serial killer in their midst. They just don’t know it’s a pack of bloodthirsty werewolves, and I have to be the one to stop those wolves before the people discover they actually exist.
Chapter 23
If they were an ordinary pack, I could take them out one at a time, no problem. It wouldn't matter how many days or weeks would pass to do it. They would only be a threat to deer or rabbits or some animals. Then again, if the Blood Moon pack was like any other normal werewolf pack, I wouldn't be paid to take them all out.
Hunter's Quest: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter Book 1) Page 14
