by S A Ison
“Don’t she got no friends?” Betty asked loudly.
Miriam elbowed her. “Turn your hearing aid up, Betty, you’re hurting my ears.”
“No, Hellen doesn’t have anyone except me. She doesn’t know how to make friends. Never did. I don’t think it bothers her, though it has always bothered me.”
“She ever date? You know, boyfriends? Hell, even girlfriends?” Wanda was knitting furiously now, the needles making a soft clicking noise.
All the women looked at the werewolf romance book on the coffee table.
Vivian grinned. “Nope. Again, she doesn’t really understand those emotional complexities. She is essentially a sociopath, though a good one. She knows right from wrong, but when she does wrong, as in for the CIA, it doesn’t bother her.” Vivian pulled out her own knitting.
“I still think we should hire her to take out those little peckerheads,” Wanda spat, her mouth tilted at an obdurate slant.
Vivian exhaled and hummed. No one liked the riffraff moving into their neighborhood. She sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have told them about Hellen. Yet they were her dearest friends and she loved and trusted them. They all seemed to like Hellen as well. A grin flitted across her face when she thought of Hell’s visits over the years and how her friends would chatter around Hellen. Although Hellen seemed out of her depths, she never said a word. The older women looked at Hellen as one of their own.
“Anywho, Dragon’s Fortune, by Stefany White. A friggen awesome story, so let’s get down to discussing it.”
The women agreed, and the book club began to dissect the book.
“Come Love a Monster made me hot,” Nora said shyly.
The women sniggered.
§
Leon Ellsworth stared at Mike Todd with a blank expression. It was his first face to face with the young man. Mike was one of his junior players, but he’d been bumped up. While he was a good earner, he was having a hard time with his section of town, which was beginning to drop in sales. This wasn’t good. Although Leon normally didn’t meet the street runners, Mike was now being considered for more responsibility and more territory. Berry Cleves had indicated that he was seriously thinking about having Mike become his go-to man. Cleves was stepping farther back into the shadows. As each of his people rose higher into the ranks, they stepped farther back from the action, distancing themselves and becoming invisible. Leon had done that years ago and led a double life.
“Mike, you need to handle your shit. You need to take care of that old bitch. What the fuck is the problem? Waywood said she reported you for spitting on her. What the fuck, man?” Leon snarled, bringing his fist down on the table, causing the younger man to jump. Leon tried hard not to lose his stern expression.
Officer Waywood was one of his inside men at the Charlotte Police Department. He had a couple of officers that he paid well. You needed to if you wanted to head off trouble before it began.
“I can’t help that, Mr. Ellsworth. That bitch—”
“You can’t let your emotions run you, dog. You can’t bring attention to yourself, you feel me?”
Leon didn’t want to hear excuses and he didn’t want people banding together to move his people out of the area. Once you did that, others did it. No, this had to be nipped in the bud.
“Look, mind your manners and keep a low profile for a week or so. Then go in and take the old woman out. Use a bat, and make sure you wear gloves. Don’t leave any fuckin’ evidence behind. Got me?”
Mike nodded like an automaton. “I will, Mr. Ellsworth.”
“Make it look like a robbery gone wrong. But make sure you send a clear message. Get control over yourself, cause you’re no use to me if you can’t and I’ll replace you if you’re not willing to do what it takes. That’s my territory and I want you to hold it. Cleves says you’re a good man, one I can count on. Make sure I’m not disappointed. I’m expanding my horizons.” Leon smiled enigmatically.
Mike nodded enthusiastically and left his office. One of his people closed the door, leaving Leon alone. He pulled out a chart. He was beginning to buy up shitty little places in some of the neighborhoods. His crews were making life hell for the residents and he was picking and choosing to buy them out. He’d turn around and sell the land to developers. It was easy money and a double profit for him, drugs and land. Once the properties were sold to developers, his crews moved out of those neighborhoods. Those rich folks didn’t want his kind in there.
He’d already completed his first three sales and they were an unbelievable windfall. His crews helped safeguard those neighborhoods, so no other gangs or dealers came in to take over. Screwing with Leon could end you fast. He’d built up a vicious reputation over the last ten years. Although it was hard, it was now paying off. Once Mike got rid of grandma, word would get around and the other old folks would settle down. He sighed and rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose. Mike had potential, but the kid still had a soft heart and was emotional. Leon had to work that out of the man or he’d be useless to him. He looked up at the knock at the door.
“Got a group, boss. Wanna come take a look?” Bojo asked.
Bojo Brown was Leon’s traffic man. Bojo was in charge of moving people. They mostly dealt with young runaways, girls and boys. There was a huge untapped fortune to be made from them. He let out a long breath and got up. Sometimes, he sampled some of the product for himself. Young girls were just so delicious that way.
They walked out into the large bay. He was in one of the warehouses in the industrial district and not in his uptown office. He kept his two lives separate, the legit side and the dark underbelly side. The building was a large warehouse that moved lumber and construction equipment. It was Leon’s legitimate side, but was under a shell corporation. Because it was night, there were no workers there and all the security cameras shut off. It was a good cover and helped with moving money around, cleaning the money, and taxes paid, keeping everyone happy. Leon had learned the benefit of layering and distancing.
They went to a small office where there were seven kids, ranging from thirteen to sixteen. They were all filthy and all obviously frightened. They were all sedated as well. Keeping kids doped worked twofold; it kept them easy to handle and it kept their memories of faces fuzzy. He didn’t need his product remembering faces, names, or places.
Leon knew he was a good-looking man. He was clean-shaven, wore a well-tailored suit, and didn’t look like a thug. Legitimate people didn’t deal with thugs and he was keenly aware of that. To the legitimate world, he appeared as a well-groomed and prosperous businessman. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, his skin dark, and his eyes a light hazel. He wore a close-cropped beard that was so in fashion these days.
Leon wasn’t a tall man, yet his commanding presence and a trustworthy face made him open to legit people. Although his face bore the scars of adolescent acne, this didn’t detract from his good looks. He wore high-end accessories—watch, ring, and a slender gold chain, nothing flashy or gaudy. He radiated confidence and charisma and he used these tools to navigate the world around him. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
With his easy smile, the drugged children began to relax.
“Okay, we’re going to take you all to a safe place. Get you cleaned up and feed you. How does that sound?” he asked them kindly, his deep voice soothing. He almost cackled when they nodded.
He saw a likely looking girl, maybe thirteen, and nodded to Bojo. He wanted her, once she was cleaned up. He’d use her for a while then pass her along for sale. Hardly any of the girls were virgins these days. But sometimes he got lucky.
§
Detective Ross Down sat before the computer screen going through some cold case files. Missing children. It was a waste of his time, but he had to go through the motions. He was lucky in that he wasn’t saddled with a partner. Those could be cumbersome indeed. He took note when he saw one particular girl. He wondered where she was now. She had gone missing five years ago, and he knew she was more than likel
y dead. She’d been a lively bit of sport; she’d been thirteen then. He and Bojo enjoyed them young like that and Bojo was good about sharing. Leon liked them young as well.
Detective Down ran interference for Leon Ellsworth and was paid handsomely for his efforts. Though he wasn’t on the gang taskforce, Ross did have some friends on it. He was able to alert Leon about possible busts and what the drug task force was looking at. That info had helped Leon keep ahead of the game where his counterparts failed. Down admired Leon because the man knew how to compartmentalize. Leon could have been a master chess player had he put his mind to it.
Most of the kids he looked at were long gone. Where, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Bojo took care of that bit of business. They even had a doctor on hand to check and make sure the kids were healthy. The virgins were sent to the Middle East, while many were sent down to South America. That was the easiest route. The kids were doped up, but not with heroin or anything like that. Just enough to keep them manageable. No one wanted an addict, at least not at first.
Sometimes he actually did his job, he still had supervisors to impress. For the most part, however, his money came from not doing a whole hell of a lot.
Down sifted through and passed along vital info to Ellsworth. It wasn’t a bad life and it had quite a lot of perks. He’d stashed nearly a cool million in an offshore account. When it was time for him to retire, he could go to somewhere south. Perhaps Panama, where the economy was cheap and he could live like a king. Until then, he’d slog along in the mundane world and his mundane job.
He did have his little speakeasy and it was going well. The Down and Brown Speakeasy was becoming a popular joint. It had the right atmosphere and Bojo was his silent partner. Because Bojo had a record since he’d been a kid, it wouldn’t do for the folks on the force to know they were connected. Bojo kept them supplied with burner phones and kept things clandestine. They had their codes so any accidental listening would reveal nothing. There was an app on his phone that deleted everything.
Ross was careful with his social media, as were all the other players. It was so easy to catch criminals via that avenue. Several years before, he’d warned Leon about keeping his people off those platforms. Leon had listened. Down liked that. Leon was a man who knew talent and knew how to use it.
Leon was instrumental in making his dreams come true. He’d helped Down acquire the speakeasy. He liked that Leon was a careful man. Dangerous and careful. There weren’t many as vicious as Leon Ellsworth.
TWO
Hellen woke to her phone ringing. She squinted; it was near three a.m. She groped for the phone and found the handset. She had one of the old fashion rotary style phones, heavy as hell. She pushed Widget off her, the hussy was hot as hell.
“Hello?”
“Hellen, this is Nora, Viv’s friend. Hellen, someone broke into Viv’s house and they killed her,” the voice said brokenly.
Hellen sat up straighter and the sensation of freezing ice water gushed through her body along with adrenaline. She shivered and there was suddenly a heavy, empty feeling deep within. It was the same feeling when her adopted mother had died. Her werewolf moaned low and whined inside, the animal pushing to get out. She tamped the wolf down.
Not now, not now.
“I’ll be there in the morning,” she said and hung up.
She didn’t want to hear Nora’s weeping on the other end. She sighed. The wolf was now pushing hard to get out and her skin tightened. Her wolf wanted to kill. Dammit, it was probably that little fucker, Mike. She’d told Vivian to leave him alone.
She got up from her bed and walked into the living room. Widget was down by her feet and she picked the cat up, holding her tightly to her chest.
Strangely, her head was numb and she could feel the growl, low and insistent inside of her. Widget cried softly and rammed her large head into Hellen’s chest. She wasn’t sure if the cat was trying to console the werewolf or stop it from growling. Her body was vibrating and Widget wriggled to get down. Maybe the latter. Something deep within began to rise, it was like some kind of volcano. She’d never experienced it before and then it flew from her mouth.
Hellen fell to the floor and let out a scream of such pain and desolation that it took her breath away. A long, sorrowful howl followed the scream. The absolute agony of pain overwhelmed her with the thought of the very last person on Earth who cared about her was gone. The last and only person to ever love her was dead. She was alone and abandoned once again. Hot tears coursed down her face as she rocked on her knees. She screamed her rage and loss, letting it bounce off the living room walls. Widget disappeared to the back bedroom.
Her body morphed from human form to near werewolf. Her claws came out and retracted. Her bones and tendons popped and pain undulated through her shifting body. The analytical part of her brain stood patiently by and watched as her emotional brain fell apart. Hellen could smell urine, but hadn’t realized that she’d urinated. Had it been her or the wolf? Why was the wolf so devastated? Did the wolf love Vivian? She remembered Vivian loving and petting the werewolf and she thought perhaps the wolf did indeed love the older woman.
“You’ll have to clean that up,” her brain whispered.
Hellen had never cried, not once that she could remember. Even when her mother had died. She’d acknowledged the odd sense of loss, but didn’t totally understand it since her father was still there. When Ralph had died, she hadn’t experienced the loss so keenly, since she hadn’t seen him in years. Yet now, Vivian’s loss cause her whole body to react and to rebel. The analytical side of her brain didn’t understand. Her werewolf did though, and she could feel its pain join with hers.
Hellen wasn’t sure what time it was when she came to, lying in a puddle of urine. She wiped at her swollen eyes. Her head was fuzzy and she was confused, unable to grasp the physical and mental implications.
Vivian is dead.
It punched her again, but she withstood the salvo. Her CIA training kicked in and she sat up, then stood. Her nose wrinkled in repugnance and she walked to the kitchen for paper towels and a spray cleaner. Widget rammed her head into Hellen’s leg and she reached down automatically and rubbed the cat’s head.
“We’re okay, girl. Just knocked off my pins for a moment there. Guess we have some people to kill.”
She squatted to clean up the liquid. Warm tears slid down her chilled face but she ignored them. Once the floor was clean, she went to the bathroom and stripped down. Her brain was formulating a plan.
She’d fly up to Charlotte, speak with the police, and look at the house. While she knew who’d killed her sister, she would caution Vivian’s friends not to say a word. This was her job, her task. The werewolf pushed but not too hard. It knew its time was coming and it would feed its need to kill and eviscerate. She would make sure she ended the little bastard and anyone connected with him. She would have to come back home and load up her car with her gear. And Widget. She planned on staying in Charlotte until the job was done.
Jumping in the shower, Hellen cleaned up. She got dressed and then went online to make a reservation for the flight to Charlotte. She called Uber; she didn’t want her license plates sending off red flags at the Atlanta airport. Retired she might be, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think the CIA would not keep tabs on her. That new asshat O’Donnell had taken over the department six months before her retirement. She didn’t like him at all.
Seven hours later, she drove her rental to Vivian’s home. She’d stopped by the morgue to claim and identify Vivian’s body. She made arrangements to have her sister cremated. It was a visceral affair. Her sister was beaten beyond recognition. The rampant rage that boiled inside Hellen was startling. She’d never experienced overwhelming fury before. It was all she could do to keep the wolf at bay.
She perceived the oncoming transformation and had struggled to push the werewolf down. She didn’t need to turn in front of people. While she’d thought her werewolf weak after the chemo, she was now feeli
ng the surge of power from the animal. She would have to let it kill or it might take matters into its own paws. The rage thing really surprised her. Sure, she suffered the normal annoyances and things that went with life, but nothing so vicious.
It made her want to slaughter anyone within range of her and her werewolf wanted to do the same. She needed to control herself and her wolf. That wasn’t good, she’d need to get her emotions under control for the first time in her life.
The police reported the murder as a home invasion and a robbery gone bad. So far, no suspects. They would be interviewing neighbors. A detective was assigned. Hellen declined to speak with Detective Richard Lure.
She wore her gray wig, wanting to look older than she was, and black horn-rimmed glasses with clear lenses. This would obscure her facial features. She was in operative mode and she wanted to be innocuous. The world didn’t need to see or remember her.
As she drove down the street, she saw Mike, recognizing him from her sister’s description. She slowed the rental car down; her window was rolled down. The young man looked at her and she stared at him, her eyes eating him up. Hellen knew her eyes shimmered gold, the wolf was peeking out. She exhaled softly, thoughts of what she’d be doing to him swimming lazily through her mind. She took note that his eyes flared wide. Hell grinned broadly when she saw fear behind those pale blue eyes. She disengaged her stare and drove past him and into her sister’s driveway. She got out of the car and noted that Mike was watching her.
Nora was walking toward her. She’d met Vivian’s friends on several occasions, during her numerous visits. Nora’s face was bloated with grief, her eyes swollen. The heavy woman walked up to her and gathered Hellen into her arms. Hellen stood still and let the woman hug her. She looked down into the shorter woman’s face.
“I know who did it,” Nora hissed in a low voice, her eyes cutting to Mike, who was thirty feet away.
