Lycanthrope: Cover of Night

The dark memories swarmed like scavenging birds. The vampire’s fangs snapped around her wrist. Olaf’s knife entered her torso. Burning timbers rained on her and Zaac, and the corpses flowed through the murky water of the sewers.

All of them took turns pecking at her mind mercilessly. She found herself in the same hallucination landscape that had been set in motion when the familiar stung her before. The spiny, cat eyed vines sprung far in all directions. Roxanne walked mindlessly until she saw a figure huddled over something. She maneuvered around to get a full view of it and gasped at what she saw.

She was looking at herself as a rabid. Feral, fur standing on end, and caked with blood. All rationality had fled from the creature’s eyes and had replaced it with madness. Roxanne recoiled from the rabid and bumped into something behind her. It was Sphixes, the familiar she had seen with Olaf.

Sphixes’ red, sickle eyes beamed and her mouth stretched into a grin.

“Like what you see? I imagine not. Take heed you don’t linger here too long. Then again what is too long for you?” Sphixes asked, approaching her.

“We’re already working our magic within you,” the familiar said, motioning at the scar where Roxanne had been infected on the shoulder.

Then all of it was gone. The spiny vines, rabid Roxanne, and the familiar. Her eyes shot open and she found herself in a soft, lifted bed in a clean hospital room. The sun shone lazily through the east window. declaring it was late morning.

“Dr. McCoy, please report to room M116,” a nurse’s calm voice said over the intercom in the hall.

Roxanne looked around and realized that her Pack must have brought her here when she passed out. She relaxed back onto her pillow and sighed with relief.

Sound of boots on the linoleum floor pricked her ears. Hans and Axel entered the room and walked over to either side of her bed.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake. It’s about time,” Axel smiled with a cup of coffee in his powerful hand.

Roxanne held her arms out to them. They each happily accepted the embrace.

“Just catching up on my beauty sleep. How long have you been here?”

Hans glanced at a calendar on the wall. “Since yesterday morning.”

Roxanne blinked. “You serious? How bad is my condition?”

“Well, when we got you in here, you were in what the Doctor’s described as a near comatose state,” Axel said. “Luckily your circulatory system started to flow normally last night and the infection in your left wrist disbursed.”

She examined her arm. It was wired to a bunch of equipment monitoring her heart rate and supplying fluids above her head. She scanned down to her wrist.

Where it had been inflamed and throbbing from the vampire’s bite wound, the skin was now smooth and fair as normal.

“Want to tell us what happened?” Axel asked.

“It’s slowly coming back, but I remember Olaf stabbing me.”

She took a pause. “I seriously thought I was going to die. “

Axel sat down on the bed and tenderly held her hand. She continued.

“I don’t know exactly what happened next, but I saw red. I couldn’t see my hand but I felt as if I were reaching for something, and then I saw more red. Then I woke up and felt all this pressure wheeling in my wrist and arm and saw Olaf retreating.”

“Roxanne, how long have you been aware that you are a dire blood?” Hans asked.

“A what?” Roxanne asked, though she already knew the definition.

“A dire blood. It’s the rare ability to don a spur that metabolizes the enemies’ blood to heal fatal injuries,” Axel continued.

Roxanne stared down at her hand both shocked and pleased.

“That which cut the mark, only your blood will heal my wounds,” she quoted. “I thought dire bloods were extinct.”

“So have the rest of lycanthropes,” Axel replied. “For the last thousand years.”

“Well thank Mother Wolf and whatever gods or god is up there,” Hans beamed. “I’d say you dodged a bullet.”

Axel didn’t drop his serious demeanor.

“What if she hadn’t?”

His partner didn’t say anything.

Axel turned back to her. “Roxanne, why didn’t you stay with the others?”

She didn’t meet his eyes though she could feel his penetrating stare.

“I tried to but…we got separated on the fire escape,” she replied gravely. “I was planning to rendezvous, but I got a glimpse of Olaf and I…” Roxanne stopped and then continued.

“I thought I could take him down there and bring him back to the Pack.”

He sighed.

“We’re supposed to work together as a Pack. That means when faced with a threat we strategize before making any rash decisions,” he chastised her.

“Obviously Olaf Sermis is more dangerous than we calculated and is going to require different backup. That means stick together and don’t try to play the hero.”

Roxanne finally glanced up. “I’m sorry, Axel. You’re right. I shouldn’t have gone after him.”

“No, but I’m glad you’re safe. Unfortunately, not everyone was as lucky.”

“We lost three in the sewer by fangs,” Hans mentioned sadly.

“I know, they seemed to be the only ones that didn’t come back,” Axel sighed and then straightened up. “We’ll take care of those matters when we get back to the valley.”

“Luckily you scrounged enough DNA from Olaf with your finger nail scrapings. So at least we have something to go on scents,” Hans declared. “The police will never miss a little of it.”

“That should help us, at least,” Roxanne answered, thinking in loss of Bethany. “Do you want us to go after him?”

“In good time. I figured you could seek the kitsune, being that we’re on good terms with her now,” Axel replied. “But we still have other issues arising with Pack matters.”

“Zaac made it back okay, right?” Roxanne interrupted him.

“I don’t think you have to worry too much about that remnant, but yes. The Pack has kept him busy,” said Hans.

“Latest reporting’s have issued suspicious sightings of robbed graves. One cemetery in particular has had several valuables removed. Some anonymous reports claimed that they turned up in illegal retail,” Axel said. “There’s a chance that Olaf could have had a run in with them.”

“Another black market. This might be your forte,” Roxanne declared, turning to Hans.

“My dealings are just rare artifacts in Allosfaire. You know that,” he replied gruffly.

“I do. I meant do you know any shifter that could be dealing with grave robbers?”

“In this particular location, Tanzania, there’s one that screams a certain suspicion,” Hans replied. “Where else are hyenas native to?”

“The Crocatta,” Roxanne reflected, and took in a deep breath. “They’re stubborn as mules and merciless to trespassers. You want us to try to get a lead from them?”

“The kitsune eats, incinerates, and curses humans. You were able to get her to help us,” Axel pointed out.

“Let’s hope they’re as grateful as she was for our help,” said Roxanne.

“Well regardless, we have to look into this considering two compasses are missing,” Axel stated. “Besides, with Olaf’s criminal record, it’s as good a guess as any other to see if we can dig some dirt up on him.”

“Are you sending me out?”

“You have the clearest scent of him and that dire spur should do you some good, now that we know what you’re capable of,” Axel admired. “You and Hans will take this one.”

“I know a local shifter parole officer there. He’s an honorable man and is always trying to lead his Pack in the right direction,” Hans declared. “We go back.”

Axel turned to Roxanne. “Are you up for it?” he asked.

“Well, the Safari is one of the many places I have vowed to see,” Roxanne declared, exchanging looks between her comrades.

A few days later, Roxanne and Hans were combing through a beautiful ornate cemetery. The warm African air seemed to agree with the young werewolf as she pranced between the tombs.

“You want to hear something that’s rather out there?” she asked.

Hans took a puff of his vaping device and ran a hand through his thick blond hair. “Elaborate on what we call ‘out there’.”

“I’ve grown accustomed to places like these. There’s something so elemental about cemeteries. Is that weird?”

“Nah,” he chuckled. “As long as you don’t plan to check in to one early. Of course, with your literal trick up your sleeve, I suppose that’s less likely.”

Roxanne looked thoughtful as she trailed her thumb along her left wrist. “Maybe it’s because it reminds me of when I used to live in Anchorslotte. All that history of the ancient families of South Carolina emanating from the plots. Good positive energy.”

“Wasn’t that also the place that was infested with haints?” Hans asked, amused. “Or so Axel went on about?”

“Yes, but it was also the first place I felt I put a claim on,” she replied. “I faced something evil, frightening, and dangerous that preyed on both human and were-kind. Knowing that I made that little part of the world safer is what drives me to keep fighting. No matter what wacked up things we face.”

“Whatever keeps your blood content up. I’m glad the rush of a near death experience is starting to make you positive,” Hans grinned.

“Yeah,” Roxanne laughed. “What about you?”

Hans put away his device. “What drives me is witnessing the horrors I’ve seen, and knowing that crucial line. Know that boundary between what we are and what we’re capable of becoming.”

“You’re talking about rabids?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Roxanne said while lost in thought.

“Why? What were you thinking?”

“What has been stalking us since my initiation,” she paused. “It wasn’t rabids.”

Hans bit his lip as he looked away. “We’re not going to let the familiars have you, Rox.”

“Now that I’ve been directly infected, I’m more prone to mind spells,” Roxanne said, but didn’t feel like pressing on the matter. “Anyway, you said you knew someone that was supposed to help us?”

“Yeah, he should be here now. Let’s walk.”

***

Never knowing what they would run into, Roxanne set a perimeter here and there by stringing trip wire or bribing the wild life of the cemetery.

Roxanne and Hans took in more sights of the cemetery before meeting up with the insider.

“Hans Tristock,” said a handsome, well-built African man. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise, you old battle axe,” Hans replied warmly. “Still defending the frontier, I see?”

“Protect and Serve,” he replied in a Swahili accent. “Or so I’ve heard my commanding officer quote the handbooks.”

The two laughed before Hans addressed Roxanne.

“Roxanne, this is Officer Fasil Magoro. He’s been a good friend to us for a while.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she smiled back while extending her hand. He shook it warmly.

“The pleasure is mine. Hans tells me you had quite the commotion at Mydohl’s Town?”

“That’s an understatement, but yeah. Our entire shipment party was engaged with trackers and vampires. No rest for the werewolf,” Roxanne said.

“The werewolves have never been known for their tranquil lifestyles,” Magoro noted sympathetically.

“Apparently, nor are the Crocatta. Which is precisely why we’re here,” Hans reminded him. “You know our deal is to keep one another under the wraps.”

“As I’ve bailed you out in the past it would only serve our mutual relationship,” Magoro agreed with him.

“We need it more than ever,” Roxanne added.

“Indeed, now that you’ve taken up the trials, you’ll be finding enemies in places where they weren’t before,” Magoro remarked.

“Enemies have always been there, and now that there’s a scent of blood, they’ll all come running,” she replied smugly.

The officer studied her with a smile. “I like her, Tristock. You need a strong-minded woman in your life.”

Hans smiled. “Roxanne’s a good start. I’m getting there.”

Roxanne nudged him playfully.

“Anyway, let’s head over to the graves, shall we?” Magoro beckoned. The two werewolves followed after him.

The turned-up earth of the graves looked violated, like bodies torn open and innards scattered everywhere.

Roxanne wrinkled her nose at the musky air emanating from the coffins. “Are there any connections between the residents who were buried?”

“From what it looks like they were just picking graves here and there and trying to see if they could extract anything valuable. Best bet would be to find a trail.”

“Anything we can do in regard to residents? So, they don’t cloud up the scents?” Hans asked.

“Don’t worry. I got a warrant to issue a curfew after 6pm so we can rule out the legal from the trespassers after sundown,” he replied. “But to the public, it’s for safety precautions.”

“Is she legal?” Roxanne asked pointing behind them.

They turned to see a tan skinned, tawny haired woman. Her gaze was drawn to the empty plots ravaged below her.

“This will not stand,” the woman whispered softly.

“Hello Ms?” Magoro greeted her. “Were you the one that made the recent call?”

The woman nodded her head. “Yes, and it breaks my heart for something like this to happen. Robbing the dead.”

“I know. Can’t anyone rest in peace these days?” Roxanne asked, but then cut herself short when she saw the seriousness in the woman’s expression.

“I’m Officer Magoro assigned by the east branch. Did you know these people?” he asked in a professional tone. “The ones buried in the plot?”

She nodded her head.

“Any disclosure on valuables they were buried with would be a great help.”

She gave him a brief rundown and then asked, “Do you have any leads?”

“Might have been grave robbers looking to make a quick buck. Best bet is to check out pawn shops or any illegal markets.”

The woman fixed her with her nut-brown eyes. “Some place they won’t question the buyer.”

“We’ll let you know as soon as we can. In the mean time you best keep your distance from here.”

“Shit might start to stir after sundown,” Hans added checking the sun on the horizon.

The woman nodded. “I trust this will be sorted,” she shared glances with all of them. “We’re all accounted for in the end.”

She then turned and began walking down between the rows of dead.

“Poor woman…” Roxanne said, watching her go.

“This is why I prefer cremation,” Hans added. “No getting your hands dirty there.”

Roxanne let the situation settle in. “Don’t forget bloody as well,” she added dryly.

Magoro glanced to the opposite side of the cemetery. “Might be sooner than we think.”

The werewolves turned heads to see three mysterious figures advancing toward them in a pack.

They hid several rows back as they observed the group’s activities. The suspicious, mask wearing group lowered to the ground and began digging into the fresh plots.

“I guess we can rule them out as mourners,” Magoro declared bluntly.

He took a closer look and an idea formed.

“If we can set a trap, we can track them and stop this at the source.”

“Not a bad idea. But will we be able to?” Hans asked.

Magoro was already setting up a small structure of wires and springs.

“If y’all lead them through, then yes.”

Hans nodded as he began leading Roxanne away when she finished circling the makeshift trap with lime dust.

“Cool. Roxanne and I can see to that. Just let us know when it’s ready.”

The two werewolves scurried over to get a good view of the path they could take. Roxanne fetched several tranquilizer darts and loaded one into the spring of her crossbow.

“Don’t use those on all of them. Better luck finding the hideout if one of them leads us to them.”

“Plan?”

“Flank them. I’ll cause a distraction and you knock one out. Afterwards run like hell to “you know where.”

Roxanne rolled her eyes jokingly. “Why is it always me?”

“Because no one is intimidated by a cute, little ginger.”

“I’m plenty intimidating!” she protested. “And this is box color!”

He chuckled, amused at her annoyance and patted her on the head while she glowered back.

“Prove that to them.”

Hans waited until Magoro gave him the signal and Roxanne was well on the other side before drawing attention to himself.

“Hey guys!” he called out to the Crocatta. “You know there’s a curfew, right?”

As they turned, their eyes thinned into slits and they drew their guns.

“Werewolves!? You have some nerve. Can’t you keep your muzzles out of another shifter’s business!?” they growled.

“You know the drill,” Hans replied from behind a cypress tree. “You draw attention to shifters and it becomes a Pack matter!”

“Not if there are no witnesses,” a hostile taunted, finger on the trigger.

With their backs turned, Roxanne took aim and tranquilized one of the hostiles.

A loud animal cry erupted from him as he dropped his gun with the dart in his neck. The other Crocatta whipped around, and through their masks, she could tell they were baring their canines.

“Oh, you’re crow food, little girl.”

She didn’t have enough time to load another bolt, so she fled. The two-remaining followed. With their attention on her, Hans tackled the furthest one back to the ground. The other pursued and fired. She zigzagged through the tomb stones to avoid his rounds.

When the hammer clicked empty, he dropped his gun and donned his hyena form to chase after her.

Hans was caught in a tumble of the second hyena as he locked his legs around his torso and jammed his own tranquilizer into the hyena’s neck.

Another yowl whimpered and he lost consciousness. Hans kicked him off and climbed to his own four feet.

Roxanne felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the beast was closing in from behind. Even the various plots and tomb stones did little to slow him down.

She practically felt the hot breath of his awaiting muzzle.

“Too scared to fight, huh?” he hissed.

“Almost there. . .” she thought as she pounded her arms and ran faster.

In a small clearing between a set of mausoleums, she saw the trap. It was subtle and just barely visible to someone who knew what to look for.

Her pursuer’s line of vision didn’t allow him to notice the trap before it was too late. Roxanne leapt over the mechanism just as the Crocatta’s foot landed right on it. The device activated and a cuff snapped around his ankle. The chain extended from his foot to the ground as he went sprawling into the dirt.

All three of them surrounded the hyena as he struggled with his chains.

Just as Hans advanced, the angry creature ripped his foot away from the cuff and growled in defiance before turning tail.

Roxanne began to shift once she recovered, but Hans rested his hand on her shoulder.

“Let him run,” he reminded her.

They looked around to where Magoro disappeared before they heard the roaring of an engine.

“Hop in,” Magoro beckoned from the Jeep’s driver’s seat. A red dot beeped on screen to show the hyena’s whereabouts. “He can’t get that far.”

***

From the backseat of the jeep, Roxanne scanned the beautiful sunset landscape they referred to as the Safari. The heat enveloped her like a blanket. She was glad for their choice of vehicle. The wind soaring in from all sides was the only thing that seemed to cool her.

Up ahead she saw something large and grey strolling towards their path.

“Hey, what is that?” she asked.

Magoro slammed on the brakes as he glanced over to what she was looking at.

“Whoa, why are we stopping?” Hans called.

“There’s something I wanted to see first,” Magoro replied.

“Sightseeing? For Christ’s sake Mags, we’re going to lose them if we give them this much time.”

“We also don’t want to follow too closely, lest they know we’re on to them,” Magoro replied matter of fact. “Besides, this will be worth remembering.”

Roxanne lifted herself over the seat as she climbed over to the door handle.

“Stay put, Roxanne,” Hans grumbled.

“No, I want to see too,” she replied chipperly before hopping to the ground.

Hans sighed impatiently but then after a moment before giving into majority, he followed them.

From the bushes, a massive elephant emerged. He appeared graceful despite his size. Roxanne let out a happy little cry as she approached the beautiful beast.

“Hi there,” she cooed adoringly, reaching to pet him.

The elephant wrapped his trunk playfully around her hand as she stroked the side of his massive head with her other.

“Where do you think he’s heading?”

“Probably to die,” Magoro said plainly, while stroking his neck.

Roxanne whipped around toward him.

“Huh? What gave you that idea?”

“See the wrinkles and the size of his tusks? He’s at least a hundred years old. Plus, look around. He isn’t anywhere near his herd.”

“Like he’s heading to an “Elephant Graveyard”?” Roxanne asked skeptically. “I didn’t even know those things existed.”

“That’s the idea. No one knows if they do or not,” Hans said, coming up to pat the great mammal’s ears. “You’d have to follow him to find out.”

“They’re too smart for that though. The moment they know they’re being followed they’d lead you somewhere else. Don’t want to risk poachers robbing their ancestor’s graves,” Magoro declared.

Roxanne ran her hand down the rough surface of his trunk and studied his gentle yet intelligent eyes.

“It seems our tactics have something in common then.”

The elephant studied her right back, as if knowing what she meant.

“C’mon,” Magoro said, stepping back. “We all have somewhere we need to be.”

Roxanne patted him one last time before snapping a selfie with him and the others and heading back to the jeep.

As the engine started, the elephant turned his head and began continuing on his way.

“I hope when it’s my time, I embrace my final days with as much peace and dignity,” she sighed, watching him go to his final destination.

“I just hope with mine there isn’t too much kicking and screaming,” Hans stated sardonically.

Magoro laughed. “Thanks for humoring a sentimental man.”

Hans shrugged while Roxanne leaned forward in her seat.

“I’m glad you stopped.”

The Tanzanian resident smiled when he knew she meant it.

***

Finally, after half an hour, they arrived at a market town. Dozens of merchants boasted about their products. Tourists chattered happily about all which was around them. There were so many odors that deciphering among them would be like trying find a needle in a hay stack.

“The tracker should do us some good. I can’t imagine trying to sift through this crowd,” Roxanne noted.

“No kidding. With a little technology help, he’ll lead us right to the goods,” Hans observed.

“Keep our distance. We don’t want them knowing we’re coming,” Magoro told them.

The three trailed respectfully, peering off to the sides as if they were tourists.

While keeping tabs on their adversaries, Roxanne spotted the woman from the cemetery off to the side.

“Is she following us?” she thought.

The Crocatta eventually led them into a roofed off building. Roxanne took a deep breath before entering.

“Remember we’re looking for a sapphire studded Rolex watch, an emerald dotted snake bracelet, and a lotus pearl ring. So, keep your eyes peeled,” Hans reminded her.

“I’m going to radio for backup, in case we need to create a perimeter,” Magoro declared.

“While you’re doing that, I’ll set up my own,” Roxanne told them.

Roxanne took in her surroundings, learning which way was an out and an in, and which was an escape or a dead end. She scattered lime dust as if patting off regular dust from the dry heat.

Up ahead were a few monkeys for sale. That gave her an idea.

She quickly purchased a mango and retrieved the barley honey cakes.

“They’re so cute,” she told the vendor.

He smiled.

“Do you mind?” she asked, motioning towards the cakes in her hand. The monkeys immediately became excited at the possibility of a treat.

“Not at all,” he said in a heavy accent.

The little critters eagerly accepted the treats.

“I’ll have to remember these little guys,” she said with a wink.

“Good thing they don’t bite,” came a woman’s voice.

Roxanne raised an eyebrow and turned to her addresser. It was the woman from the cemetery.

“That’s because I had food.”

“It seems we’re tracking the same game,” the woman smiled.

“It would be unwise to interfere with a police investigation,” Roxanne told her. “Unless you have something to offer.”

“Just a little moral support,” she replied, before turning. “And an extra eye out.”

Almost immediately she had disappeared back into the crowd before Roxanne could ask anything.

Roxanne watched her go with suspicion.

“Something fishy. . .”

Roxanne sniffed the air after setting up a small perimeter all along the vendors. She found Hans after wandering amongst the market stalls.

“So, through your experience, how can you tell if something is “System D” from a normal, honest market?”

“If you find something nice and the price is too good to be true, it’s likely that the seller didn’t go through too much financial trouble to get it. That, and they don’t require a sales tax. Or, items are sold in a suspicious back alley or somewhere abandoned.”

“Common sense, I guess. What about when you’re selling our other worldly goods? That seems risky even in the black-market state.”

“Some of the less suspicious things like common metals, game, and produce can be sold through legal means. Rare merchandise like precious metals, gems, and endangered animal parts just have to be sold in small quantities and thrown in with the rest of our dealer’s products,” Hans explained before elaborating. “Cut up a griffin well enough, and you can convince the buyer that you sell lion and eagle parts.”

“Supplies aren’t low where we come from, but they don’t need to know that,” Roxanne noted, glancing about the market. “What’s Magoro up to?”

“Trying to see if he can get the other authorities to clear the place up when the time comes.”

“Gotcha, well back to the search…” Roxanne said drifting off.

She wandered through the many carts of fabrics, produce, second hand electronics, jewelry, and dozens of other appliances, while making sure to avoid a brilliant colored, bell-shaped flower with an intrusive odor. Roxanne stared at it scornfully as she kept her distance.

“Just what I need,” she scoffed. “Wolfsbane.”

Moving from the harmful flowers that were displayed in a large pot by other flowers, she scoped everything until she found the stolen jewelry they had been looking for.

“These are beautiful,” she told the vendor, trying to hold off her excitement, while testing to see if the ring would fit.

He nodded in approval.

“Got those in recently.”

“They must be part of a set. Love the style. Do you know the supplier? I’d love to find more like these.”

“You’ll have to ask Zere,” he shrugged, pointing over her shoulder. “He has his own crew that does all his scouting.”

Roxanne looked over her shoulder to see a Caucasian man in an expensive white business suit talking on his phone. He didn’t look like a local. He must have been in his late forties, with light brown hair and sun damaged skin. Though the suit looked tailored and professional, she could smell something ominous about him.

Roxanne was going to head over to find the others and alert them of the suspect, when the vendor called out to him after he finished his conversation on the phone.

“Hey Ironsi! This girl wanted to know where you got the stash!”

The last thing she had wanted to do was call attention to herself.

The man in the white suit turned to address her and his face turned pale as he examined her profile.

Roxanne felt the tension sting like a chunk of ice as the two were caught in each other’s glare. It didn’t help that people were slowly being ushered out by the security around them.

He knew.

The dire blood didn’t wait for him to pull a gun on her as she rushed for cover.

“He’s over here!” Roxanne called. “Magoro, get the civilians out of here!”

Ironsi must have had his goons with him.

“They found us! Time to bail now.”

“Hans, he’s going to try to make a run for it!” Roxanne telepathed.

“Right, can you give me a description of him?” he called urgently.

“Better yet, I can give you a name. One of the vendors called him Zere… Zere Ironsi,” she said making her way forward to where her opponent was barricading himself.

“Mags, that name mean anything to you?” he asked the officer.

“Son of a bitch. He’s one of my charges. Works in trading. Did some time for smuggling some RPGs a year and a half ago.”

“Well, at least he learned not to illegally market rocket launchers anymore,” Roxanne grumbled.

With all the commotion, the frightened residents cleared themselves from the pavilion well enough on their own. Luckily Roxanne’s resources lasted long enough for Magoro and Hans to reinforce their standoff.

Peering behind the stands, she saw them making their way towards her.

“Give it up, pal. We’ve caught you red handed!” Roxanne called to her adversary.

“You think so?” he challenged.

She took the still moments to load. As she did so, a white milky bottle soared through the air and smashed on the wall.

From the broken glass, a foul smelling, nose blinding odor erupted like a bomb. The pale white smoke floated between the stands in a ghostly fog.

She couldn’t see anything in front of her more than a few steps, nor pick up on any smells. Roxanne was in a deadly situation.

Not knowing what else to do, Roxanne huddled behind the stand while brandishing her weapons protectively.

“Shit! What the hell is that?” Hans asked.

Roxanne smelled it, and remembered the strong alcoholic essence fringed with skunk spray.

“So, he did decide to market it,” she thought, and then addressed Hans.

“This is the same gas Olaf used to inoculate my senses with wolfbane. He must be working with rabids everywhere!”

“How’d you deal with it last time?”

“Staying quiet for one thing,” she told him. “It drifts in clouds. Try avoiding the thicker sections. It’s the only way to sift out scents.”

“If you can’t smell, then the Crocatta won’t be able to either,” Hans added.

“The silver lining,” she said letting him go. Roxanne put away her crossbow.

“Now to follow my own advice.”

The trip wire came in handy, as did her other traps, once she summoned the monkeys to attack.

“Just follow the screams.”

As she sifted her way through the gas like fog and toward the chattering of monkeys, one of the Crocatta managed to stay out of her line of smell and force her into a struggle.

He held his knife to her throat in attempt to subdue her, but her weight pressed into the blade.

The sharp metal dug deep into her throat as her spur gouged into his arm in retaliation.

It came as a shock, but far too late for him to do anything about it, as the amount of blood loss caused him to pass out, even as it restored her injuries.

Roxanne nimbly made her way through the vendors to finally catch Ironsi’s scent making his way to the exit under the cover of the other hyenas. Roxanne returned fire with her crossbow while trying to signal her comrades.

“Time to rendezvous. We’re going after him,” Hans telepathed.

The young werewolf never liked to let her target slip during a hunt, but she knew she couldn’t afford to separate in this size of a quarrel. She grabbed the missing jewelry from the shelf and headed to the front with the others.

***

The chase brought them to the outskirts of an orchard across the safari. Roxanne’s heart raced as Magoro slowed the jeep down before shutting it off.

“Best not let him see us,” he declared.

“They’re already expecting us,” Hans reminded.

“That’s why I have my men making a perimeter. We can head in through the center.”

Six legs became twelve the moment they left the jeep.

The three navigated through the safari setting, using the coverage of trees and the tall grass to keep their position private. All their senses led them to where the Crocatta lay in wait. The chittering of insects was nerve racking, as if any moment they could be ambushed.

The scent of the were hyenas drew near. Roxanne tossed her false lead bottle and strung it behind her. Hans made the effort to toss lime dust behind them.

“Take the bait,” Roxanne prayed in a whisper. Strategically, Hans and Magoro managed to get the upper hand by attacking them as the hyenas were turned to Roxanne’s diversion.

The three’s surprise attack left Ironsi stunned.

“What the HELL!” he cried.

“Should have covered your tracks,” Roxanne grinned.

The panicked black-market dealer opened fire.

“Get down you two,” Magoro called.

Roxanne used the cover of her friends to maneuver behind the foliage. The Crocatta leader was waiting for them. His white suit disappeared as he howled and cracked out of human form and into hyena.

He growled as he lurched forward and attacked Magoro full on.

Hans and Roxanne quickly joined the fight.

Blood splattering and fur ripping, they took bites of their own as Ironsi lashed back. Their target managed to use his size for advantage as he slashed a row of scratches into Roxanne’s right side.

Countering the pain, Roxanne clamped her teeth around his wrist and jammed her dire spur into his shoulder. Since the wound wasn’t fatal, Ironsi didn’t lose much blood, but he was still apprehended and bound by Magoro and Hans.

Once Ironsi gained his composure from his bloody state, he turned to admire Roxanne’s spur.

“He spoke of a werewolf with an unusual healing power.”

“You worked directly with Olaf, didn’t you?” she growled. “Those wolf bane bombs smelled familiar.”

He just rolled his head up to meet her eyes.

“What’s it to you?” he laughed while gurgling blood.

Hans lost his temper and grabbed him roughly by the head. Nails digging into his scalp, Ironsi winced slightly.

“He’s been a thorn in our side ever sense I can remember. Several of our members were killed by being forced into a vampire trap. That’s what!”

Magoro stepped up beside Hans.

“C’mon Zere, you’ve already played your hand once with me. If you give us everything you have on Sermis, I won’t let you go back to rot in a human prison.”

The man laughed, sickly.

“And if I don’t you leave me to fry, right?”

“Do or don’t is not going to be the issue,” Hans threatened while brandishing a small curved knife Roxanne had seen him use for skinning. “Just how long I have to persuade you to talk.”

Ironsi rotated glances between the three of them and knew the odds were against him and exhaled.

“Take me back to my office and I’ll show you what you want.”

***

Ironsi gagged and bound, the three led him to the destination.

“What are we supposed to be looking for?” Hans asked.

“There are some trading documents between me and him on the wolfs bane gas,” he grumbled.

“Going to use them for your tax cuts or something?” Roxanne prodded but he ignored her.

“That doesn’t show dirt on him though,” Hans told him.

Magoro inspected the slides of a surveillance camera.

“These should do. Photographic proof of him conversing with a convicted dealer. Should raise some suspicion at least.”

Roxanne wasn’t satisfied yet. “What about an otherworldly compass?”

Ironsi turned to her, confused.

“You’re missing one of those too?” he laughed. “Damn, guess you really need to keep an eye on the storms.”

Hans grabbed him sharply by the scruff. Roxanne continued her search.

After rummaging through his desk, she found an engraved invitation card that caught her attention.

“An event for the elite collector, to be held at our finest location in Romania,” is what it read. “What’s this?” she asked, holding the card in front of him so he could see.

He seemed hesitant to read it until Hans shook him up.

“It’s an invitation for this big event hosted by the guy working with Olaf. I met him once during a meeting. His name was Romero Merez. I think he is a vampire.”

“You think?” Roxanne asked, skeptically.

“Well he ordered some girl instead of a cocktail, so yeah.”

Roxanne rolled her eyes.

Magoro scoffed. “I find it hard to believe that a human like Olaf could interact so comfortably with a vampire.”

“You’d be surprised about the different relationship possibilities. Some are even neutral,” Hans said as he left Ironsi’s side to read the details on the card.

“Wait a minute. The vampires every year have an underground, grand party to auction rare artifacts.”

Magoro raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of this blood bash?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t know where it was until now.”

Roxanne sniffed the card and got a faint but distinct trace. She then studied it with a strange amount of optimism.

“If they’re auctioning stuff this seems a good a lead as any other to find one or both stolen compasses. Worst case scenario, we could at least get some more dirt on Olaf.”

Hans studied her.

“You’re not implying that…” he began to ask and then noticed her expression. “We’re going to crash a vampire party, aren’t we?”

Roxanne smirked.

Hans laughed.

“Well it seems we got more than what we originally came for, dirt on Sermis, and a new lead on the stolen compasses.”

Roxanne turned towards Ironsi. “What are we going to do with him?”

The three all studied their captive. Ironsi stared back defiantly at the parole officer.

“We had a deal, remember?” he growled.

“Right, to not send you back to jail,” Magoro replied as he stepped forward. “It’s obvious you didn’t learn the first time. And, I can’t have you dealing in any more grave robbing. So, you’re going to spend your suspension elsewhere,” he then added. “This is far more spacious and you feel more at home. She will see to that.”

***

Later that evening the three enjoyed the comfort of the fire and the rich beer Magoro provided. It was all in a day’s work.

“Mags, we owe you a great debt,” Hans thanked him.

“Consider the debt paid. You’ve helped me in the past to keep poachers and others contained. Plus, I want to make my homeland safer too. I think we did that today.”

Roxanne smiled. “Cheers to that.”

They all clinked their glasses.

“We were lucky enough to find the portal so easily to dispose of him,” Roxanne noted.

“Depending on solar storms, leaks come and go,” Magoro replied before adding, “I like to know where I can hunt freely.”

They could all agree to that. The day’s victory had taken a heavy burden off all of them.

***

Ironsi glowered from between the trees, watching the moon begin to rise between the tall limbs of the Emeraile Forest.

“The next storm, you hear me?” he threatened, plotting revenge. “I’ll be back.”

“Not too many storms for a while, it seems,” came a woman’s voice.

He whipped around to see an elegant caramel skinned woman standing behind him. There was a tiny sparkle in her nut-brown eyes.

“And who the hell are you?” he growled.

She laughed heartily.

“A mother in search for her estranged child.”

“Check your profile lady. You’re no mother of mine.”

“All shifter kind born of earth are my children,” she replied, stepping forward.

As she advanced her eyes appeared to become lighter, almost blue.

“Don’t be fooled by appearances or the animal you change to. We’re only shaped by our surroundings.”

“I get it. You’re some type of new age spiritual shifter that praises us as one Pack,” Ironsi scoffed. “Well as of right now I have some beef with two werewolves once I return, and that traitorous dog that claims lineage to my clan.”

She tsk tsked.

“With your offenses to me and your own kind, you had better wish them the best of luck. They are your only chance to see the sun again.”

She snapped her fingers.

A wave of shock swept through Ironsi as a portal miraculously appeared behind him, revealing a large cavern filled with stone figurines of all shifter kinds. He stared at the cavern dumbstruck, only to be knocked forward into the cave by the woman’s foot.

“In the end, we’re all accounted for,” she said, smiling as her voice became both verbal and mental.

She stepped through and snapped her fingers again. The portal closed behind her.