The Werewolf Chasers (Book 3): Wolf Hunt 3

by Strand, Jeff

  "Sure," said Ally. She opened the passenger-side front door, reached inside, and grabbed the phone that was mounted on the dashboard.

  "Why were you sitting in the back?" asked Lou, as she handed the phone to George.

  "Wesley's blood is all over the front seat."

  "That's a good reason."

  "His body is in the trunk," said Ally. "I'm sure you guys have driven around with plenty of dead bodies in trunks, but it's a new experience for me."

  "I wouldn't say plenty," said Lou. "A couple, yeah."

  "Everybody quiet," said George. "I'm calling the asshole."

  "Tell him I'm dead," said Ivan. "If he asks why he shows that I'm still moving, tell him you're bringing my body back to the compound."

  It was a good idea, but George didn't want to offer him praise, so he simply nodded.

  "Wait," said Ally. "Wesley is dead because he tried to kill us. J.P. is the one who told him to do it. You three might be able to go back, but he'll try to murder Eugene and I for sure if we do. He might kill you guys, too, if he thinks you won't be able to finish the job. Do you think you could get him first?"

  George sighed. "Normally I'd say maybe. But The Melt is something where he can kill Lou and Ivan remotely. Basically it's like the ultimate swipe...uh, which way do you swipe on that hookup app when you don't like somebody's picture?"

  "I don't use hookup apps," said Ally. "But it's swipe left."

  "It's like the ultimate swipe left."

  "So they'd...melt?"

  "Like Frosty the Snowman." George turned to Lou. "Sorry if that was disrespectful."

  "It wasn't disrespectful, but it's more of our flesh and everything inside sliding off our bones. He'd said that The Melt wasn't a completely accurate name for it."

  "Then I'm going to say that maybe telling J.P. that you've abandoned the mission isn't the best idea," said Ally. "I feel like he could just say screw it and kill Lou."

  "Okay, well, we don't want that to happen, so I appreciate your insight," said George. "Change of plan. Looks like we're headed back to New Mexico."

  George touched the phone icon on the screen. Only one number was in the Recently Called list. He put it on speaker.

  "Hello?" said J.P.

  "Hi," said George.

  "George! What a relief to hear from you. And I believe you've reunited with your friends."

  "Yep, we're all one big happy family again. So Lou got hurt pretty bad and we were bringing him back to see if we could get a resurrection touchup or something, but according to Ally you might not be very happy about that plan of action. Therefore, we unanimously voted that we will be returning to the mission."

  "I'm glad to hear that," said J.P. "You've made the right decision. Democracy works."

  "I guess we'll keep you posted."

  "I look forward to your updates."

  "Talk to you later." George hung up. "Did you notice how I didn't even call him an asshole? That took a lot of inner strength."

  "So now what?" asked Eugene.

  "We'll keep both vehicles," said George. "Lou and I will take the phone, and you two can follow us. Honestly, I guess the plan is just to stick with our assignment, unless somebody has a really ingenious idea."

  Nobody did, so George and Lou returned to the truck, Ally and Eugene returned to the car, and their road trip resumed.

  * * *

  "They're on the move again," said J.P.

  The van driver, a middle-aged werewolf named Vincent, nodded and pulled back onto the highway. They'd been staying a mile behind Ally and Eugene for the past several hours, and would continue this tactic all the way to the end of the journey unless they were given a reason to alter that plan.

  "Damned traitors," said Vincent. "I always knew George was kind of sketchy, but I'm surprised about Eugene and Ally."

  "People can surprise you."

  "I was always nice to Eugene. I lied and said he didn't look that bad. If I'd known he was a traitor, I would've told him exactly how ugly he looks without a nose. People are supposed to have noses."

  "Maybe you'll get to tell him in person," said J.P.

  "I sure hope so. I'd like to punch him right in the crater in his face."

  J.P. smiled. "They'll get what's coming to them. You may not get the chance to punch Eugene, but I promise you, all four of the traitors will be dead soon."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Arrival

  Somehow, impossibly, they made it through the next sixteen hours without a new disaster. No vehicle troubles, no ambush attempts, no alien invasions—it was as pleasant of a road trip as could be expected under the circumstances.

  George's regular check-ins with J.P. were surprisingly cordial. The sinister threats were understood by this point, so there was no need for them to be repeated ad nauseum.

  They'd traded vehicles at the halfway point so that they could move Ivan into the backseat of the car and discuss the plan with him. The whole appealing "sit back and let Ivan do all the work" idea was no longer feasible with him unable to walk.

  "This might work better," Lou had said when they crossed the New Mexico state line. "A seriously injured werewolf is more likely to be taken in, right? He won't arouse any suspicion."

  "But how does he kill him?" George asked. "You think the guy is going to just put his neck within reach of Ivan's jaws?"

  "I can get us in there," said Ivan, "but one of you will have to kill him."

  "See, now, I suddenly hate this new plan," said George. "How do we assassinate him and escape from there?"

  "You'll just have to be crafty."

  "I'll do it," said Lou. "I might as well use my invulnerability for something productive."

  "You're not invulnerable," said George. "They're not going to shoot you, they're going to tear you apart."

  Lou nodded. "I understand that. It's still safer for me to go in than you. And maybe I should appreciate that I had this extra time."

  "No, no, no, that's a ridiculous glass-half-full attitude. Getting killed by a werewolf does not mean you should appreciate having a couple of days before you get killed again by a different werewolf. These bonus days were crap days. You're not going in there without me."

  "What about Ally?" said Lou. "She's an actual werewolf."

  "No way."

  "I hate the thought of putting her into danger. But if a recently orphaned fifteen-year-old girl showed up at my place asking for sanctuary, I wouldn't think she was there on a mission to kill me."

  "Again, no way."

  "All right."

  "It's a smart idea," said Ivan. "They wouldn't suspect anything."

  "I don't care," said George. "One, I'm not putting her in danger like that. Two, how the hell is she going to pull off an assassination? I don't know how Lou and I are going to do it, and we've been violent our entire adult lives."

  "Obviously, I'm in no position to tell you what to do," Ivan admitted. "Do whatever you think is best."

  "Thank you, we will."

  * * *

  When they arrived in Santa Fe, George pulled into a grocery store parking lot a couple of miles from the destination. Eugene parked next to him and everybody except Ivan got out of the vehicles, though George opened the door so he could still participate in the conversation.

  "I think I need to go in there with you," said Ally. "They won't suspect anything from me. I'll say that my parents were killed and I want to live amongst my own kind."

  "Am I the only one who's against this idea?" George asked.

  "I'm against it but I understand the logic of it," said Eugene.

  "Three against two," said Ally. "I'm going."

  "Ivan doesn't get a vote," said George. "So it's two against two, which means we're deadlocked, which means you don't go."

  "I hate to be that kind of teenager," said Ally, "but you're not my dad."

  "Fine," said George. "You'll do what you want anyway, so we might as well bring you with us. Eugene, you wanna tag along, too?"

 
; "Not really."

  "Then you get to be the designated survivor. Hooray for you. I guess now we just drive by the scene of the crime and figure out where to park."

  They got back in their vehicles and drove off.

  "You seem kind of testy," said Lou.

  "I'm always testy."

  "True."

  "I don't like kids," said George, "but I feel like we're taking this one step too far by having Ally come in there with us. It's too dangerous."

  "You still don't like kids? I assumed you got over that while I was dead."

  "Fine. With you gone, I only had Ally and Eugene, and I don't want to see anything happen to them."

  "And they don't want to see anything happen to you. I will be chock full of self-loathing if she gets hurt or worse, but I genuinely believe that she'll be an asset."

  "I know, I know. Shit."

  A few minutes later, they drove past their destination—an unremarkable three-story brownstone. It had a "233" on the front to indicate the street address, but no other labels.

  "Now that," said George, "is one non-descript building."

  "I was expecting a giant stone werewolf head with flames shooting out of the mouth," said Lou.

  "Any brilliant plan coming to mind, or are we sticking with knocking on the front door?"

  "I think we're knocking."

  There was street parking right in front of the building. Since there was no reason to hide the car out of sight (if it was legally parked, there'd be no reason for anybody to run the plates, and authorities in New Mexico would not be on a desperate search for Doc and Wayman's truck from Arkansas) George took the spot closest to the door, while Eugene pulled up behind him.

  As George got out, taking the phone with him, he motioned for Eugene to stay in the truck. Eugene rolled down the window as he approached.

  "Park one block that way," said George, pointing. "I have absolutely no idea how long this is going to take. Could be days. But we're counting on you to be our getaway driver."

  Eugene nodded. "I won't let you down."

  "They may take the phone away from us, so I'm leaving it with you. If J.P. calls, tell him that we're here, but don't keep him in the loop unless he contacts you first."

  "Got it."

  Ally got out of the truck, and Eugene drove off.

  "You can still change your mind," George told her.

  "I promise to abandon you at the first sign of danger."

  "Fair enough."

  "Then let's do this."

  George, Lou, and Ally walked up to the front door. George tested the knob. It was locked. There was no doorbell, so he knocked.

  They stood there for a few moments. Nobody answered.

  George knocked again.

  He didn't see any security cameras, but he saw formations in the brick wall where cameras could be hidden.

  The door swung open. A timid looking elderly woman answered. "May I help you?" she asked.

  "We're looking for Asher Anderson," George said.

  "There's nobody here by that name."

  "You know everybody in the entire building?"

  "I do, actually. It's my job."

  "We're here seeking sanctuary."

  "Are you, now? Well, there are several churches around here. Pick a direction and it won't take long to find one."

  "Lycanthrope sanctuary," said George.

  The woman's expression gave just the slightest hint that she knew what he was talking about. "Lycanthropes, you say?" she asked. "Well, my goodness, how could I resist letting in a group of lycanthropes? What are you, were-cats? Were-bears?" Her sarcasm was almost, but not quite, convincing.

  "Werewolves," said Ally.

  "Oh, of course. The classic model."

  "I'm a werewolf," she said. "These are my friends who got me here safe. Our other friend is badly hurt in the back of the car."

  The woman glanced past them at the car. "Then perhaps you should take him to the hospital."

  "Would you like proof?" George asked.

  "Of course. I'd love to see that." The old woman smiled at Ally. "Go on, young lady. Turn into a werewolf for me."

  "I can't do it on command."

  "My apologies. Come back at the next full moon and we'll talk."

  "My friend can change whenever he wants."

  "Can he now? That's interesting. He must be very proud."

  "Come on," said Ally. "I'll take you over there."

  "Oh, very well." The old woman stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind her. "It can't hurt to take a peek."

  They walked over to the car. George opened the back door, and the woman looked in at Ivan.

  "Ooooh, he looks very sick," she said. "I think you're making a terrible mistake by not taking him to the hospital right away."

  "Show her what you can do, Ivan," said Ally.

  Ivan transformed his head into a wolf head. He snarled, then changed back to human.

  The old woman raised an eyebrow. "Well, my goodness," she said. "I guess you're not fibbers after all."

  She placed her hand flat on the side of the car. It transformed into a furry, taloned claw, and then right back to a withered liver-spotted human hand.

  "Drive around to the back," she said. "You'll see a garage door. It may take me a minute to get there to open it—I don't move so quickly in my human form these days."

  She turned and walked back to the front door.

  George, Lou, and Abby got into the car (Abby sat on Lou's lap) and drove to the back of the building and waited in front of the garage door until it opened. They drove inside to a surprisingly large parking area, filled with cars.

  The woman gestured for them to park in a spot that was closest to another door. While they got out of the car, a young man emerged from the door, holding a stretcher. He handed it to George. Ivan cried out in pain a couple of times while they got him on the stretcher, but George and Lou were able to carry him inside without jostling him too badly.

  They found themselves in what looked like the waiting area of a doctor's or dentist's office. "Where should we put him?" Lou asked.

  "Just set him on the floor for now," said the old woman.

  George and Lou gently set the stretcher on the floor as the old woman sat behind a reception's desk. "You say you're here for sanctuary?"

  "Yes," said George.

  "The injured man and the girl are both werewolves. And you and your other friend are human?"

  George nodded.

  "Names?"

  "George Orton, Lou Flynn, Ivan Spinner, Ally Goldwyn."

  "Thank you." The old woman picked up a phone and pressed a button. "Hello, Fran. Two new ones have just arrived seeking sanctuary, accompanied by two adult human males. Big ones. They asked to see Mr. Anderson. No, of course he won't—I'm just passing along the message. Oh, I certainly hope she's not. She looks about fourteen." The woman looked over at Ally. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "She's not," the woman said into the phone. "Their names are George something, Lou something, Ivan something, and Alice something. Right. George and Lou. Right." She lowered the phone. "Ivan, what was your last name again?"

  "Spinner."

  "Ivan Spinner," the woman said into the phone. "Multiple fractures, I believe. Yes. He is? Are you serious? Wow. Are they? If I'd known that, I'd have offered them a drink. Yes, of course. Goodbye." She hung up the phone and stood up. "Mr. Anderson, our master, is on his way down to see you."

  "Master, huh? That's nice of him," said George.

  The woman came out from behind her desk. "This never happens. He never comes down to greet new arrivals. I'm going to need you to follow me through this other door, and you'll have to go through a detector to make sure you don't have any weapons or silver on you. Just like airport security except it's a shorter line and you don't have to take your shoes off."

  George and Lou carried Ivan's stretcher into the other room. The detector didn't beep as they went through.
They found themselves in a room that was almost identical to the first one, complete with another receptionist's desk. The only significant difference was an elevator.

  "Feel free to have a seat," the woman said. "Mr. Anderson isn't always prompt."

  George and Lou set Ivan on the floor, then sat down on the uncomfortable chairs. There were even magazines on a table.

  Less than a minute later, there was a ding, and the elevator doors slid open. A man, maybe about sixty, stepped out. He was wearing a black cloak, including the hood. Two other men, large but not as large as George and Lou, followed him out of the elevator.

  "I'll be damned," he said. "I recognize you from your pictures. Ivan Spinner. I thought you were dead. Lou Flynn. I thought you were dead, too. Ally Goldwyn. Am I correct that you're the daughter of Shane Goldwyn?"

  Ally stiffened and gave him a small nod.

  "He was an out of control werewolf. He caused us many headaches. I hope it doesn't offend you for me to say that."

  "No," said Ally. "He was a psychopath."

  "And he murdered your mother. So you come to us an orphan."

  "Yes."

  "That's very tragic. And Ivan. Ivan, Ivan, Ivan. Something of a problem child yourself, aren't you?"

  "Reformed," said Ivan.

  "I suppose it's not difficult to be reformed when you're a pile of broken bones, is it?"

  Ivan looked like he wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, and George was relieved when he didn't.

  "I apologize," said the man. "It's rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Asher Anderson. My goal is to ensure that werewolves can live peaceful, happy lives, and I can indeed provide the sanctuary that you seek. George and Lou, we appreciate the risk you have taken in delivering these new members of our family, and we will have a feast in your honor."

  "Thanks," said George. "Happy to do it."

  "Bonnie, take Ally to her room."

  "No, I'm fine," she said. "I want to stay with my friends."

  Asher smiled and walked over to her. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "My precious child, you're safe now. There's nothing more to fear. Go take a nice hot shower. Bonnie will find some clothes that fit you. Your room will be very comfortable. Sparsely decorated, yes, but you'll have time to fix that later. You're safe."