A Bone to Pick

by S A Ison

“I do as well, Nora. But I’d ask that you don’t mention this to the police,” Hellen said calmly, walking up to the duplex. The other house was abandoned. No one had lived there for years. Vivian owned the property, but had chosen not to rent the other home. She’d had bad tenants before and had opted for less stress.

  Both women walked into the house, not looking back at the young man who stared at them. Hellen noted the wanton destruction to the house. Photos were smashed, along with Vivian’s military service shadow box. She walked past that and went into the bedroom. There, she saw the blood spatter on the walls and ceiling. Her sister was beaten savagely with a brand new bat, which was left at the crime scene. The police had collected that and other evidence, but they were not hopeful, since there were no witnesses. Hell already knew the responsible party. The question was who else was involved?

  Nora was sobbing and Hellen walked the older woman to the living room. She sat her down on the couch.

  “Nora, I want you to listen carefully.” At the older woman’s nod, Hellen took a seat.

  “I’m going back home to collect my things, but I’ll be back. I’ve got to get Widget and my gear. Please ask the ladies not to speak with the police, or if they do, tell them nothing. I want no suspicions on who did this. We both know who it was, and I need to be the one to deal with it.”

  “Will you kill him? Please say you will. Please say you’ll let your werewolf kill him,” Nora sobbed.

  “Vivian told you about the wolf?”

  “Yes, we all know but we would never tell. We loved her and we love you. Don’t worry, we’ll keep your secrets,” Nora said, rocking back and forth.

  “Alright. When I get back, I’ll start with Mike. I want a little more information before I kill him. Killing him will only fix this problem short term. Others will come to take his place. That’s how it goes. I know Viv cared about y’all. I’ll make sure you needn’t worry,” Hellen promised. “I’ll take care of them all.”

  “Viv loved you very much, Hellen. She was so proud of you and she was proud of your wolf.”

  “I know.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to understand. She told us about you, about your first two years at the orphanage. But know, she had enough love for you both,” Nora whispered brokenly. The older woman dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

  Hellen swallowed hard. Her throat hurt and throbbed with emotion. Those alien feelings threatened to bubble up and she tamped them down firmly. The wolf pushed harder and she pushed back. Now was not the time to become emotional. She had a job to plan for and to execute.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. You and your friends have the run of the place. I’ll be back in a few days.”

  Hellen stood and patted Nora on the shoulder. She turned then and left the house. Coming down the steps, she watched Mike from the corner of her eye. He had moved off down the street a bit. There were several young men moving about him. She’d bring all her gadgets and tricks and she would gather intel and eradicate them all. They had screwed with the wrong person. They were all dead men walking, they just didn’t know it yet. She would extract her vengeance and end them all. She would let her wolf eviscerate them.

  Hellen walked up to the car and saw her glowing gold eyes reflected in the window. Getting into her car, she pulled away and headed back to the airport. She had a lot to do.

  §

  Mike watched the old chink lady drive past him. She had not looked his way this time. The tiny pale blond hairs stood up on his body when she’d looked at him before, with dead gold eyes. And that fucking smile. What the hell was that all about? Were those some kind of weird ass contacts? Really? Gold? What old woman wore that shit? She was connected with the house and the old lady. Was she a cop? Why did the tiny hairs stand up on his body?

  She was an old woman for shit’s sakes, but she had shaken him on a fundamental level. He’d seen her eyes once on a dead lizard he’d found on a sidewalk. Ants were swarming the lizard’s carcass and its eyes were open and dead. Her eyes were like that and he’d seen something swim, just under the surface. It was like seeing something swim past in dark murky water. Something that was unsettling and unfathomable. Warning bells in his primitive brain were ringing. That made him furious.

  It was so easy last night. He’d walked into the house; the lock was a joke. He’d gone right to her bedroom and when she sat up, he’d given her a good pop across her face. It was dark in the room, but the light nightgown and bedding helped him. He’d let loose his rage and frustration at her previous taunting and hadn’t stopped until he was out of breath. He’d worn gloves and a stocking cap. Leon had warned him about leaving DNA evidence and he was careful. He’d had one of his minions buy a bat with cash and had wiped the bat down before using it on the old hag.

  He’d checked out the house and picked up money and a few pieces of jewelry. The old bitch didn’t have much. He’d hit a few things on his way out. He wanted to set the place ablaze, but didn’t. He’d thrown the bat down and left, leaving the front door wide open. When he got to the corner this morning, he was pleased to see the police outside and neighbors gathered around. He listened to them talking and some, the old women, cried. He sniggered at the thought, because some looked over at him with fear in their eyes. Leon was right—knock one down and the others would fall in line.

  “Guess you won’t be fucking with me now, will you?” he’d whispered and then sniggered. It was as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he was feeling good, until that old chink lady looked at him. He shrugged it off. He was just off his game. But now he could step up his operations. He could expand like Leon wanted him to do.

  Mike nodded contently, moving the toothpick from side to side in his mouth, the old woman forgotten.

  §

  Hellen gazed out the portal window. It would be a short flight. She had a lot to do, but she was well organized and it would only be a matter of making sure she left no trail. Her face was placid as she viewed the distant terrain below. Her mind, however, was going fast. She’d need to break out the license plates and put magnetic patches of acrylic paint on her Honda Civic. It would change the appearance of the vehicle slightly.

  She knew small things made a big difference, and she was good at hiding in plain sight. People remembered things like plates or rust. She would attach several magnetic rust areas on her car to change its appearance as well. Each leg of her journey, she would shift the magnets around, thereby changing her vehicle’s appearance frequently along her route.

  Next, she’d have to go into her supplies and pull out the gear that had gathered dust over the last few years. She had untraceable ammo along with weapons. She’d need zip ties and her torture tools. Those were special made to fit her hand and had a nonslip grip. Blood made things slick and slippery, even with her nitrile gloves. She would let her wolf out, but only after she’d gotten the information she needed. If the werewolf came out too soon, she was afraid the animal would slaughter her prey before she got the answers she needed.

  She had expandable gags, material that swelled with the moisture from the mouth. Effective, she didn’t need screams alerting anyone. She would have to dig around and find her specialty drugs. Those she used for interrogation and to kill swiftly without leaving a trace in the blood and tissue. She might not need them, but it was better to have and not need than to need and not have.

  Fortunately, it was only about a seven-hour drive to her sister’s home. She’d have to take several detours and change plates, but that was fast. She’d travel at night. She would have to take Widget with her, there was no help for that, and have the realtor, Marni, come to do checks on the house. She’d used Marni’s company before when on extended assignments. There was a lot of legwork to be done first, before she began her strategic strikes. She would need her electronic gear and computers.

  Her computers would have to be rerouted, using bogus AP addresses along with bouncing the signal from node to node, obscuring the signal’s path a
nd destination as well as the origin on an encrypted network. She would have to hack into local law enforcement and DMV as well. Those were simple enough, but she’d need to backdoor them. She would have to piggy back on cellphones and clone them. There could be no trail that led back to her or her sister’s home.

  Her mind ticked through the lists and lists of things she needed to do, prepare for, and plan. She was starting to get back into covert mode. She did this mentally whenever she got a new assignment. There was a lot of prep work that went into assignments, meticulous and exacting. She would need alternate plans as well, contingencies in case one procedure failed. That was the most crucial element of any operation. Get it right in your head and the odds of success increased axiomatically. She would have to keep a tight rein on her animal to make sure it understood her needs.

  She’d need to debrief Vivian’s friends and get a clearer picture of the lay of the land. While she was still somewhat surprised that Vivian had told the women about her werewolf, she shouldn’t be surprised. The women loved her sister and had petted on Hellen when she’d come for her visits. Hell had never understood why they did that and just accepted it when she visited. It would appear that she wasn’t exactly alone. Though the loss of her sister was devastating, Hellen wasn’t as alone as she’d first thought. There was a small kernel of comfort from that notion.

  First things first. She’d get Mike and acquire intel from him. She fizzed at that thought. The only time she’d actually enjoyed killing was when she went to Seoul and had located the employees and associates of the Park Orphanage. Her wolf enjoyed killing, reveled in it, in the act of shredding skin, muscle, and bone. She thought perhaps it was because it was the nature of werewolves to kill. For her, killing was simply a job, but with the orphanage, it was pure joy.

  She’d followed and then abducted one of the employees. Hell had tortured the woman for information and then let her wolf tear her to pieces. Their practices hadn’t changed much in all those years, and so she’d gone after the big fish and had cut their head off as warning to others. It was cathartic in some ways, very satisfying. She’d listened to their pleading and then had let her wolf decapitate them.

  A soft smile curved on her lips when she recalled their horror when she’d stripped and turned into the werewolf. She had then burned down their lavish homes. While she’d left no trail, she suspected the CIA knew she’d done it, though they could not prove it. She’d already put in for retirement due to the diagnosis of ovarian cancer. It was a satisfying and healing task.

  Once she had killed all those on her list, she’d flown back and had her ovaries removed and gone through the rounds of chemo. She figured that was why the CIA hadn’t requested her talents. She didn’t care. Those people needed killing. Although she knew a new bunch of scabs would take over running the orphanage, perhaps they might do a little better. The severed heads had been a not-so-subtle warning.

  Hellen jolted with the bump of the landing and was surprised that the time had passed so quickly. She waited patiently for the plane to arrive at the terminal and disembarked. Within an hour, she was home. It was late and she was tired. Widget was happy to see her and she picked the cat up.

  “Guess we’re going on a road trip. We’re gonna go and kill some bad people. Won’t that be fun?” she asked in a singsong voice. The cat purred contently and rammed her large head into Hellen’s face, eliciting a humorous cough from her.

  Hellen went to the kitchen and made some tea. She wandered to her bedroom, her brain working in overdrive. It had been a long time since her brain functioned so engaged. It made her tired and she crawled into bed. Widget jumped up and walked back and forth across the bed. Then she came to Hellen and began to knead Hellen’s stomach. With her head and back propped up on her pillows, Hell sipped her tea and looked up at the ceiling, not seeing it. She didn’t notice the warm tears that slid down her face as her mind churned away at the coming days.

  Tomorrow she would dig out the equipment and gear. That was always tedious because she had to check each item carefully. All her weapons had to be cleaned. She couldn’t test-fire them but that was okay; all her weapons were in good order. She was not a sloppy operator and she took pride in her work and her tactical abilities.

  She looked down at Widget, who had settled on her thighs and was now purring contently. She absently stroked the cat’s fur. Hell’s hand sported the long claws of the werewolf. Sometimes she and the wolf shared the same space at the same time. She thought the werewolf needed to stroke Widget as well and took some comfort from it.

  Hellen was torn. There was a deep, searing devastation at the loss of her sister, but she had a burning thrill of the hunt that was coming her way. Her wolf did as well, and her wolf became stronger. Perhaps that was what her werewolf needed to be strong. Did the werewolf need to kill periodically to feel alive and useful? Though she’d known the other werewolves at the agency, none of them ever spoke about their altered selves. She’d grown up knowing nothing about her werewolf or her origins. She only knew she was a werewolf and it was part and parcel to her identity as a being.

  She was alone now, alone in the world for the first time that she could remember. It was a frightening feeling and Hellen wasn’t used to being afraid. Sure, she had her wolf, but this was different. The last time she had something similar to this was when her mother had died suddenly. Vivian was a constant in her life and now, because of a selfish drug-dealing shit-heel, her big sister was gone and done in brutally.

  She set her cold tea aside on the nightstand and reached over to turn off the light. Widget was dislodged and jumped to the floor. Hellen settled down into the bed, brought the quilt up around her neck, and stared into the darkened room. She was so exhausted from the trip and flying. Her body wasn’t as strong as it used to be but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She would have to rework a few things in her mind, adjust for her diminished strength, but she would take care of Mike and all his ilk. Together, she and her werewolf would bring hellfire down on them all.

  Hellen Marigold wasn’t called Hell on Wheels for nothing.

  §

  Betty wept as she pulled the bloody sheets from the bed. She and the girls were cleaning the mess up. Nora had a large black trash bag and was carefully picking up the broken glass. Wanda was in the living room with Miriam and they were cleaning the wreckage in there.

  “Did Hellen say when she’d be back?” Betty asked, wiping the tears from her face.

  Nora turned and gazed at her friend. They were all devastated and heartbroken. The little bastard was grinning at them as they came to the house to clean it. If she had a gun, she’d have shot the little stain.

  “She should be here tomorrow or the day after, I think. She called to say she would be arrivin’ here at night. That was one of the reasons I thought we should clean this place up. The police have finished and closed their investigation or at least done what they thought they could do.”

  Nora and her friends were questioned and all had played dumb as they’d been instructed to do. It rubbed Nora the wrong way not to go out and point an accusatory finger at the skeevy little bastard. She knew, however, Hell would take care of him and all his little friends. That brought a grim kind of comfort and satisfaction to her.

  Nora’s eyes were heavy and gritty from crying. She was short, squat, and as wide as she was tall. She did have a big heart and her empathy and sympathy meter usually registered in the red. She was now emotionally fragile, her endless optimism hollow. She exhaled heavily and wiped at an errant tear. She dropped a shard of glass from a picture frame into the heavy plastic bag.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t have told them about that little pissant Mike?” Betty asked, balling the laundry up and putting it into the trash bag. Nora held the bag open wider to accommodate the wadded-up sheets. She averted her eyes. She didn’t like looking at them, they were almost black now, the blood dried and hardened.

  “No, Hellen will take care of it. Not only that, what
would the police do? Take him in for questionin’? The kid would have some kind of alibi and they’d be forced to cut him loose. There were no witnesses and the murder weapon was left behind. I’m pretty sure there were no prints on that, no witnesses. Even though we know who did it, that isn’t enough.”

  Nora sighed. This was the fourth time this morning Betty had asked. She worried about the woman. This tragedy was hard on all of them but they didn’t need Betty cracking under the pressure. They needed to stick together and help Hellen in any way they could.

  “Betty dear, even if the police convict Mike, there are a thousand more like him. When Hell takes care of this, there won’t be anyone left to take his place. Do you want Mike to pay for this?” Wanda asked, standing in the doorway, a bandana around her wiry white hair. Her ebony skin glistened with sweat and she used her wrist to wipe at her cheeks.

  “I want all those little bastards to pay,” Betty said. She broke down weeping.

  “Then let Hellen do her job. She’ll be here soon. She’ll make them all pay. Just like those sonsofbitches at the orphanage,” Wanda said, walking over and putting her arm around Betty.

  Nora squeezed Wanda’s shoulder and patted Betty on the back. She felt a thrill at the knowledge that Hellen would come and take care of everything. She wondered if they would get to see the werewolf. She wished she could be a fly on the wall when Mike met the wolf. She might be a sentimental old gal, but Nora’s sympathy meter went to zero when it came to the scumbags out there on the street.

  §

  “I’m proud of you, Mike. You did a damn good job and shut that old pipe up. Any more trouble from the blue haired old ladies brigade?”

  Leon was at his desk, going over a few properties he was considering for acquisition. He was at the warehouse, not at his realty office. None of his people ever went to his real estate office, it was off limits. The day crew had gone hours ago and it was quiet. Right now, security cameras were off. Leon was paranoid, he didn’t want any of his associates from his less legit enterprises showing up on camera. He had strict protocols in place and all knew to adhere to those rules or disappear.