The pain in Billy’s arm was unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life. He laid there on the ground amongst the broken and dead cornstalks and watched with a sideways view as the black hearse pulled away from the fray toward the graveyard beyond the edge of the cornfield. A few members of the pack followed but were quickly cut down by the spray of automatic gunfire from the car’s back window.
Silver bullets. They had to be using silver bullets. And the blade that had removed his right hand must have been silver as well. As a werewolf, this sort of pain was completely foreign to him and it had him worried that he wouldn’t be able to regenerate the missing appendage.
There was a sudden flash of light accompanied by a loud explosion and roughly twenty more werewolves fell dead with others rolling around on the ground in pain.
The humans had come prepared. That was something Odin Sway had failed to mention. At least the vampire got away; he could see that much in his mind.
The hearse was now out of sight and Billy thought it safe to stand up. Piled around him were the bodies of dozens of bleeding and mutilated werewolves. His clan and the only family he had know since his rebirth into the world of the supernatural.
He looked up to see an old, gray werewolf approaching him. He recognized this one as Henry, one of the elders of the pack. He seemed to be alright, but as a rule, the elders rarely got involved in such a battle.
Henry reverted to human form and said; “It’s over, Billy. The packs numbers have been greatly diminished. We can’t continue on like this, we survivors have to go our own way and find our own paths in the world.”
Billy wished he could say something to the old man, nut knew by reverting he would interrupt the regeneration of his missing hand.
“Nothing needs to be said, boy,” Henry stated. “Just run away and stay low. If you have any old friends you can trust, now is the time to call on them.”
Billy stared at Henry a moment longer. Then he turned and ran through the corn stalks and into the woods on the far side of the field.
The trees swayed gently with the autumn breeze, shaking many of the turning leaves loose and throwing them over the ground like a comforting blanket. The full moon shone through the canopy of branches and Billy could feel the pain in his arm dim a little.
He followed a winding path through the underbrush and eventually came to a babbling brook. The werewolf stopped and marveled at the beauty created by the moonlights reflection on the rippling water. He waded into the stream and washed his wound in the cool liquid, using his remaining hand to clean any silver residue that may have been left behind by the silver sword.
He whined like a homesick basset hound at the cold sting of the water on his severed flesh and it didn’t take long before his arm began to feel numb. The pain was nearly gone and soon his hand would begin to grow back. This, he knew would bring a different kind of pain.
Satisfied with the wounds cleanliness, Billy continued down the path and pondered the advice that old Henry had given him.
He had grown up in New York City and though he longed to see his parents and sisters again, he knew he never could. It was for their safety he had made this decision. His family still believes he was abducted eight years ago.
He did, however, know a couple of old werewolves that would surely take him in. He was young, both as a boy and as a werewolf, and he didn’t feel he was ready to be on his own yet.
The regeneration of his arm had started. It was painful, but didn’t come close to the pain he had felt from the silver blade against his skin. That was something he would like to avoid feeling again for the rest of his life.
The muscles and veins started to grow back first, hanging from his wrist like beef from a meat grinder. Then the bone started to grow back with the suddenness of death from a bullet to the brain. For a good while there was only a single shard of white morrow protruding through the wound, but it didn’t take long for the other fingers to take shape and for the muscles and veins to wrap around those bones and take their places in the new hand. Finally, the tendons were in place and the new skin bubbled over the rest followed by an ugly matt of hair.
By the time the sun began to peak over the horizon, Billy’s severed hand was completely restore. So too was his human form, weather he wanted it or not.
He was a young man, just barely twenty-one, but he had seen a lot in his short life. He was bitten by a werewolf and turned when he was only twelve and had met a number of werewolves and vampire since that then.
The day went by and he was able to keep moving at night, covering great distances while he hunted for small animals to sustain his hunger and during the day he would rest and his pace was much slower. Still, he was moving ever closer to his destination.
It was a crisp, Halloween morning when he entered Hell’s Kitchen and the little diner on 37th was bustling, just as it had always been. When he looked to the back booth of the dining area he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find his old friend sitting there.
“Billy!” the ragged, old werewolf shouted when he laid his eyes on the young man. This was one werewolf that had been through the ringer. The part of his face that was visible through the bushy, blond beard (though much of it had turned gray these days) was weathered and cracked like a well used baseball glove. His left eye had been taken in some long lost scuffle and for some reason had never regenerated. Billy wasn’t sure if there was something preventing the re-growth or if the werewolf was just slowing down with old age. Either way, it was a topic that no one ever brought up because of his sensitivity about it.
“Hey, Joe,” Billy said offering his old friend a quick hug before joining him in the booth.
“This here is Willis,” Joe said, introducing the broad shouldered, black man in the booth. He looked to be about as old as Joe and was sporting a big, gray afro and matching beard. “He’s one of the good ones.”
“How do you do,” Willis said as he shook Billy’s hand.
“What brings you back to New York?” Joe asked. “Last I heard you were running with a pack out in the mid-west.”
Billy’s expression saddened. “Most of them are dead. It was a massacre.”
“In Nebraska?” Willis asked.
“Yeah,” Billy replied with surprise. “How did you know?”
“I heard about it. Hell, every werewolf in town is talking about it. They say the family that did it goes by the name of Writeman. They been killing vampire and werewolves left and right.”
“A family of hunters?” Billy asked. He knew they were after Odin Sway, but hadn’t gotten many details.
“No,” Willis continued. “Way I hear it; the girl in the family is walking dead. They out for revenge.”
Billy had thought about revenge himself. However, it was Odin and the pack that had set the trap for this family. A trap that had backfired. The Writeman family had every right to defend themselves.
“You want to hang with us for a while?” Joe asked.
“If you guys don’t mind.”
“Of course we don’t mind, right, Willis?”
Willis smiled. “Hey, any friend of Joe’s is a friend of mine. Besides, we don’t have a whole lot going on anyway.”
Over the next couple of months the trio stayed low, only feeding on people who wouldn’t be missed by anyone (mostly the homeless) and things didn’t really start to get strange until just before Christmas.
Joe’s brother, Rob, owned a small warehouse down by the docks and he didn’t mind that Joe conducted business out of said warehouse at night, as long as he left the place clean when he left. When Joe told Billy and Willis he had been contacted for a special job, Billy couldn’t deny that he was excited about the prospect of a break from the dullness his in his life since teaming up with the two elderly werewolves. That is, of course, until he found out whom they were going to work for.
So, the three of them waited in the warehouse along with two other werewolves (Fig and Jerry) that Joe had brought in for the job and were soon greeted by the man that had called for their service.
A blue vinyl door divided the clerical are from the production floor and when the doo slid open on its tracks and the large black man stepped through, Billy’s heart sank. Though he had never met him, everyone knew who he was by reputation.
His expensive suit and matching coat draped lazily over his massive chest. The chiseled outline of his muscular arms could be seen even through the three layers of clothing. The dim lighting of the warehouse gleamed off of his smooth, bald head. In only his human form he was the most intimidating being Billy had ever encountered in his life. This was Glass, the black werewolf and the most feared werewolf in the world.
He walked slowly across the room; sizing up the wolves he had recruited for the task he felt was beneath his attention.
Most werewolves didn’t keep up on their appearances, finding it easier to live relatively unnoticed amongst the dregs of society. There was always an exception to that rule. Glass was that exception.
“How you doing, Joe,” he said with a voice that was like two giant, granite slabs rubbing together.
“Not too bad, sir. Yourself?” Joe had obviously dealt with Glass before, yet he still looked as though he would shit himself if the black wolf suddenly turned on him and shouted “Boo!”
“Do you trust these men, Joe? Do you think they can handle the job I’m bringing to you?”
“I do, sir.”
“Your word is all I need, old friend. Here’s what I need.” Glass reached inside his coat and produced a slightly wrinkled photograph. “Pass that around.”
The man in the photo looked familiar to Billy, though he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from.
“I need this vampire brought to me alive. It is absolutely imperative that this man stay in my care for the next several months. This photo was obviously taken before he was turned, so he’s going to look a lot paler and have fangs now. Understood?”
The group of werewolves mumbled their affirmatives.
“Once you have retained him, contact with this phone and only this phone.” He held up the cell phone so everyone could see it and then placed it in Joe’s palm. “I will come and collect him as soon as I receive you call.”
“Should we worry about his clan?” Willis asked.
“He is unclaimed. There will be no repercussions with other vamps.”
“Do you have any leads?” Joe asked.
“He’s been hanging around with a couple of werewolves named Marino and Danny. I’d start with them.”
They all nodded their understanding and Glass turned to leave. As he went he called back to them. “Do me proud, guys and you will be generously rewarded. And remember to keep my name out of this.”
When he reached the blue door he turned back to them. “By the way, watch out for the good doctor, he’s been hanging around Hell’s Kitchen lately as well.”
Glass left the five werewolves to stare at each other with worried expressions painting their faces. Dr. Harold Robinson was every werewolf’s worst nightmare and the fact that he could interfere with this job almost made it worth turning down.
So the choices were; turn down the job and face Glass’ anger or take the job and face the possibility of running into one of the most successful werewolf hunters the world has ever known. Some choice.
In the end, you had to go with the odds. None of them wanted to disappoint Glass and they thought it should be easy enough to snag the vampire while staying low and avoiding the attention of the hunter.
The five werewolves didn’t waste any time setting things into motion. With the exception of Billy, everyone was familiar with Marino and Danny and their refusal to embrace the “gift” that had been given to them, referring to it instead as a curse. This was something that rubbed other werewolves fur the wrong way. According to Joe; “Torturing those two fuck holes will be an added bonus.”
What these two werewolves done with their lives didn’t matter to Billy one way or the other, he just went along for the action.
Finding Marino and Danny wasn’t difficult, they hung out at the same two bars every night, getting pastured and yucking it up like they were a couple of college kids. Taking into consideration the fact that they were hanging out with a vampire, they were most likely hanging out at the Blood Den, a nightclub for vamps that they think is well hidden from everyone else. Much two Billy’s amazement, the two werewolves came stumbling out of the tunnel entrance within the hour. The vampire followed close behind.
Standing on a nearby roof top, Joe turned to the others. “This should be easy enough. Billy, Willis and I will circle around behind him while Jerry and Fig come up in front. We’ll catch them of guard.”
It was painfully obvious to Billy that Marino and Danny were way past blitzed and he felt sorry for what was coming to them. Jerry and Fig had taken a walk around the block and had set themselves up to walk directly toward the three club hoppers. They sparked up a fake conversation about dark matter and its place in the universe to avoid suspicion.
Once they were in position, Billy and the others dropped in behind their targets. It was a perfect ambush. Or at least it would have been, if not for the vampire’s alertness.
Fig and Jerry’s change was instant and the werewolf, Marino wasn’t prepared for the forceful swipe that sent him sprawling into the street.
The vampire pushed Danny aside just before he took a hit and then jumped up and out of the way of the three werewolves that came up behind him, landing twenty feet up the side of the nearby apartment building. He scaled the wall quickly, heading toward the roof.
Billy and his partners followed, leaving Danny and Marino forgotten on the street below.
While the werewolves used their clawed feet and hands to climb, the vampire seemed to defy gravity and moved upward with amazing speed. Once they were on the roof however, it didn’t take long for the wolves to gain ground on the lesser vampire. Billy was just grateful they weren’t sent after one of the masters or lords, who would have been much faster on foot.
As the vampire leapt from rooftop to rooftop and the werewolves followed, Billy glanced down at the street below and was surprised to see two more werewolves following the chase from the ground. Something told him Marino and Danny were suddenly sober enough to help their friend.
Without warning, the vampire left the path he was on and jumped over the edge of the building they were on. The werewolves followed.
When the vampire hit the roof of an old Chevelle, the car buckled inward, twisting polished metal and custom bucket seats to nothing more than a pile of scrap, but on he ran without slowing. The werewolves landed on the ground around the car and followed on all fours.
From out of nowhere, Fig was hit in the side by Marino and the two were wrapped in a mass of ripping fur and savage growls that reminded Billy of two cartoon characters rolling around in a cloud of dust. He and the others continued the chase knowing that Danny had to be close behind. Though one of them should have broken off the pursuit to deal with the remaining alcoholic werewolf, none of them did. They were too far into the hunt now.
The vampire was now running at full speed down the middle of 54th street, which was surely a good pace, but it was nowhere near as fast as his pursuers.
Billy watched as the vampire dodged an oncoming cart with ease and when a city bus came barreling down the lane at him, he jumped atop it and ran down its length. The four werewolves spit and let the bus run down between them. When they had reached the other side, Billy expected the vampire to come into view. Instead, he was greeted to the sight of a motorcycle hurdling at him. He ducked and avoided taking the hit, but Willis, who was right behind him, caught the bike in the face and was slammed to the ground with a yelp.
Billy got up and saw the vampire jump through the window of an office building. He made a move to follow, but was grabbed from behind by Danny.
The wolf swiped an angry claw at Billy’s snout and he was just able to avoid the attack. Then he grabbed Danny by the throat and tossed him hard against a parked car that was toppled over by the force of the hit.
When Billy entered the office building the security alarm brought pain to his sensitive ears, but it was clear to see where the race had continued. He just had to follow the wreckage created by the torn open cubicles and flipped over desk. He reached the shattered window on the west side of the building he looked for more evidence.
A sudden howl rose in the night sky to the south and he ran hard to find its source. It was here that it occurred to Billy that they weren’t doing very well at avoiding drawing attention to themselves and he was surprised the werewolf hunter hadn’t shown up yet.
He entered a dark factory where there had once been a struggling plastics plant. Some of the equipment was still strewn across the floor like a child’s discarded toys.
Billy sniffed the air of the old factory. Most vampires had the smell of death about them, but he couldn’t pick up anything from this one. He did, however, pickup the smell of an old, wet dog and recognized it immediately as Joe’s scent. Picking up his pace he entered a room that must have once been a maintenance shop.
A chain clanked behind him. He turned quickly and rolled across to the other side of the shop, barely avoiding being hit by the heavy machine mold that smashed into the floor, spraying chunks of concrete as it went.
Billy looked up and saw the dark outline of the vampire as he ran back toward the entrance to the plant. He was stopped in his tracks when Joe appeared to block his escape. The vampire turned to his left and found Jerry creeping toward him with his lips curled back from his teeth in an angry grin. Billy closed in from the target’s rear and there was a large, concrete wall to his right. They had the vampire completely boxed in.
“Alright,” the vamp said. “What do you assholes want from me?”
Joe returned to his human form and said; “We want you to come with us. We’ve been sanctioned by someone very important to restrain you until he comes to pick you up. So, why don’t you come quietly, we have no intention to hurt you.”
“Yeah? What about the guy you work for?”
“All he said was; he wanted you in his care for the next few months. That doesn’t sound like he wants to hurt you, now does it?”
“In his care!” the vampire said with confusion. “What is he, a fucking doctor?”
At that moment, Willis walked in the door dragging Danny by the fur, behind him came Fig with Marino sliding along the floor.
“We can’t tell you any more about our employer or his plans for you,” Joe continued. “But you have my word; no harm will come to you if you come with us willingly.”
“Do you really think your word means a damn thing to me?” the vampire inquired.
Joe sighed. “Look, I hate to sound cliché here, but this can either go real easy, or it can get real bad. Even for a vampire. Fig, Willis, why don’t you show him what I mean?”
Billy had to turn away from what happened next despite his best efforts. The sound of tearing fur, ripping flesh, and twisting tendons echoed off the factory walls as Fig and Willis tore the heads off of the two unconscious werewolves in from of them.
Billy looked back at the vampire and saw that he also averted his eyes from the brutal scene. Staring at the ground, his face was full of disgust and anger.
“I hope you understand now just how serious we are,” Joe said. “There’s no regenerating a missing head.”
“Yeah,” the vampire returned. “I got it.”
From there, the vampire cooperated and allowed the werewolves to escort him to a delivery truck that Joe had waiting near the entrance to The Blood Den. Once the vampire was in the back of the truck along with Jerry, Fig and Willis (all of whom were trying to look as normal as possible in the torn up cloths that were caused by the transformation) Billy jumped in to the cab of the truck with Joe just as he was making the call to Glass.
“Sir, we have him,” Joe said.
“Good.” Even from the passenger seat Billy could hear the black werewolf’s deep voice. “Something has come up and I won’t be able to pick him up right away. You will have to hold on to him for a while. And whatever you do, no one is to leave that warehouse until I arrive.”
“Forgive me, sir,” Joe said with some apprehension. “I’m not sure how long we can hold a vampire.”
“I thought of that and had something delivered to the warehouse that will help. Just remember to keep him weak. Don’t let him feed.”
“Got it,” Joe replied and hung up the phone.
The old werewolf let out a defeated sigh that revealed to Billy that; he wanted nothing more than to be done with Glass and his vampire. Without another word, Joe started the truck and returned to the warehouse.
When they finally got back, they entered the portion of the warehouse that Joe was allowed to use and found large table in the middle of the room. There were two large restraints on either side of the table and two more at the end. Sitting in the middle of the table was a pair of heavy duty wielding gloves that had a note taped to them. The note read; “Wear me.”
“What’s that all about?” Billy asked.
“The restraints are solid silver,” Joe pointed out.
Billy could still vividly recall his only encounter with silver and wanted nothing more to do with the table. Willis and the others brought the vampire in and stripped him down to his Star Wars boxer shorts.
He looked down at his shorts and then back at the werewolves who were giving him amused stares. “What?” he asked. “They’re great movies.”
They laid him down on the table while Joe slipped on the gloves and fastened the restraints.
It wasn’t until everyone stepped away from the vampire and Billy got a good look at him that he finally remembered where they had met before. He was the very person that took Billy’s arm off with a silver blade in a Nebraska cornfield.
He said nothing to the others as they left the room. He only stared at the vampire and the vamp stared back at him.
“Hey, Billy,” Joe called to him. “Keep an eye on him for a few, will ya?”
“Yeah, sure,” Billy answered, never taking his eyes off the vampire.
After a long while the vampire said; “Do I have some mustard on my face or what?”
Billy snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, it’ just; I know you. The two of us have met before. Do you remember?”
“Sorry, you all look alike to me.”
“You and your family wiped out most of my pack last October. You cut off my hand.”
“Oh yeah,” the vampire said with sarcasm. “Now I remember. You were one of those big, hairy pussies me and my father beat the shit out of.”
Billy knew the vampire was trying to get a rise out of him, but he was never one to let such things get to him. He had always been more passive than other werewolves. Many had attributed this to his young age, but somehow he didn’t think so.
“Writeman was the last name, right?” Billy asked.
“Jack,” the vampire said with a note of amusement in his tone.
“I want you to know that; I don’t blame you for what went down out there. We set a trap without knowing all of the facts.”
“Well, that’s big of you, Opie,” Jack spit. “But, what the fuck is up with all of this shit?”
“I honestly don’t know all of the details.”
“Fine, keep your secrets,” the vampire gave in. Then, changing the subject he said; “You know, silver isn’t toxic to the touch on vampires like it is with you guys. I could easily break out of this.”
“This table was actually made to hold vampire or werewolves. See those hoses coming out of the restraints?”
Jack craned his neck and saw the tubes he had not noticed before. “Yeah.”
“They lead to two tanks under the table that are full of holy water. If you struggle too hard that stuff is going to dump all over your wrist. You ever saw what that shit does to a vampire?”
“Yeah, I have.”
Billy could see by the look in the vampire’s eyes that he had a very vivid memory of an incident concerning holy water.
“Alright,” the vampire sighed. “You got me; I’m not going to try anything stupid.”
“We’ve been ordered to keep you here for a while,” Billy confessed. “We’re to keep you weak by not letting you feed.”
“Sounds fun!” the vampire exclaimed, once again laying the sarcasm on thick. “Since we’re going to be here for a while, how about a game of charades? Of course, you’ll have to be the one acting everything out.”
“Sorry, man, if I did that it might look bad to the others,”
“Sure, sure, I understand.”
The door opened and the other werewolves came in.
Joe came up to the table and addressed Jack. “Look, pall, I’m not real sure how long we’re going to be keeping each other company, so we may as well get comfortable and try to get along.”
“That sounds like a reasonable request,” Jack returned.
“Good, Joe said, but within the next three hours the werewolves found that it was most defiantly not good. Jack Writeman was a talker. He talked about everything from the pros and cons of a socialist government to who had the nicest breast in Hollywood, the potential uses for anti-matter if it could only be harnessed, the future of the Star War franchise, the possibility of a woman or black man being elected president in ’08, the negative impact the vampire culture has had on American culture, the possibility of the Colts winning the Super Bowl, the perfect recipe for green bean casserole, the list went on and on and no one else ever brought up the topics, he would somehow get on one from the last.
At first, Billy and Willis would weigh in on the conversations with their own opinions, but eventually they just wanted the jabbering vampire to shut up.
After three days of non-stop talking, the vampire’s hunger started to get the best of him. He was growing weak and much of what he was saying sounded more like incoherent mumbling.
“Christ, I’m glad he’s settling down,” Joe grumbled. “Much more of his talking and I would have killed him and taken my chances with Glass.”
“So, what now?” Fig asked. “We been stuck in here for days, I’m getting hungry myself.”
“Your right,” Joe said. “You and Jerry stay here with Jack, Willis, Billy and I will go out and get some meat.”
With that decided, Billy followed the two older werewolves outside into the chilly winter night. With only five shopping days till Christmas, finding a victim should have been easy enough. That had only made it a few blocks from the warehouse when a large shadow fell over them from a nearby street corner.
“I thought I told you not to leave,” Glass’ booming voice poured over them like molasses. Each one of them stopped on the spot.
Joe looked like he wanted to scream at the werewolf; “YOU’VE BEEN OUT HERE THIS WHOLE TIME, HAVEN’T YOU?” But all that came out was; “You…You…”
“Look, I know this is a shitty assignment,” Glass said. “But I’m trusting you with something very important here. In the long run this is going to pay off for us as a race.”
The three werewolves dropped their heads and stared at the ground in shame, looking more like three children who were being scolded for eating all of the cookies before dinner than the savage beast that they could become.
“Go back to the warehouse and stay there,” Glass continued. “I promise I will come by and pick him up after I tend to a few more things.”
Billy and his friends turned away from Glass and walked back to the warehouse without saying a word to each other. When they reached the front door of the building, they found it standing wide open. With much concern on his face, Joe rushed in and ran toward the blue door with Willis and Billy right on his heels.
Joe yanked on the cord that hung from the ceiling and the blue door whipped up along its tracks. Inside, they found the dead bodies of Fig and Jerry. The silver brackets on the table were broken and Jack Writeman was gone. It was as if someone was waiting for the right moment to make their move.
Billy didn’t notice the strange things at first. Like the fact that the two dead bodies were still in werewolf form. When a werewolf is killed by a silver bullet or beheading, it always left a hell of a mess, but it always, always reverted back to human form. These two were still in human form. And as for a mess, there wasn’t a scratch on either one of them. They were just dead. It was as if their bodies had just refused to go on anymore.
Billy didn’t notice these things because, at first, all they could think about was the horrible things that Glass was going to do to them when he found out they had lost his vampire.
Billy knew the others were thinking the same things.
“Oh shit!” Billy said. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”
“What are we going to do, Joe,” Willis asked.
“Just calm down a minute and let me think,” Joe answered.
“We should run,” Billy suggested.
“No!” Joe said. “That would only make things worse. Glass would track us down and make us pay.”
“Joe thought about it a moment. “I’ll give him a call and tell him what happened. Then we’ll take our punishment and be done with it. Agreed?”
Willis nodded and Joe turned to the younger werewolf. “What about you.”
“If you really think that’s our best option?”
Joe pulled out the cell phone Glass had given him and dialed the only number programmed in its phone book. Billy watched as the old werewolf paced back and forth with the phone up to his ear. After a very long wait, he hung up the phone.
“There was no answer,” he said. “I’ll try again later.”
“What do we do with these two?”
Joe stared down at the two bodies. “We should leave them. Glass may want to investigate them and figure out just what it was that killed them. We should just relax for a while.”
So, they relaxed, or at least they tried to and the hours passed with Joe trying to reach Glass every twenty minutes and still having no luck. Still, they waited until morning when Willis said what they were all thinking.
“I’m hungry, man. These two aren’t going to be good to eat for much longer.”
Joe sighed. “Alright, let’s do it before sun up.”
The three transformed into their werewolf forms and wasted no time tearing into their former partners.
Sharp teeth tore into the tender meat of the dead werewolves, ripping the fur hide aside to get to the flesh below.
When dawn finally came, there was still no word from Glass. Joe kept trying to reach him with the phone, but was getting more and more frustrated with each attempt.
Days passed and still there was nothing. One night, while Willis was out hunting, Joe sat down next to Billy with a defeated growl. “Kid, I’m pretty sure we’ve been set up here. Though to what purpose I can’t quite figure out.”
“What’s our next move?” Billy asked.
“Glass told us to hang out here and that’s what we’re going to do until he says otherwise.”
And that’s exactly what they did. At least two of them were always there, in the warehouse and they would take turns going out for food when food was needed.
Christmas came and went with no change. New Year’s Eve came and went with no change. Finally, on New Year’s Day, after the sun had set, something did happen, though it wasn’t something any of them was expecting.
They were all hanging around the tiny section of the warehouse that had been allotted to them by Joe’s brother when the blue vinyl door raised and they were greeted by two men.
When Billy caught sight of the old man in front, he changed to his werewolf form on pure instinct. It was the very same man that had slaughtered most of his pack in Nebraska, Jack Writeman’s father. Though his scent gave him away as human, Billy knew from experience he was far more dangerous than his vampire son.
The other man didn’t come forward right away, choosing instead to stick to the shadows. His scent was unfamiliar to the young werewolf. H was human to be sure, but there was something else there as well.
The old man held up his hands and said; “Please, excuse our intrusion. My friend and I have come here hoping you’d be able to help us out.”
“Who are you?” Joe asked, and it wasn’t until this point that Billy noticed his friend had not yet changed.
The old man spared a quick glance back at his companion who was still hidden in the shadows. “My name is Frank Writeman; I’m here in New York looking for my son, Jack.”
The three werewolves shared a worried look with one another, then Joe said; “Why the hell would we want to help you?”
“Yeah,” Willis added. “We heard about the shit you pulled in Nebraska and Odin Sway was a friend to all werewolves.”
“All of that was a big misunderstanding and any werewolves that were killed were killed in self defense.”
Billy took two steps forward and let out a low growl.
“I’m afraid we don’t see it that way,” Joe said and Billy noticed he had taken a couple of steps forward.
The old man then cocked a thumb at his hidden partner. “Maybe my friend here could help persuade you. This is Dr. Harold Robinson.”
The three werewolves froze at the mention of the dreaded werewolf hunter’s name.
“You three are going to tell me exactly what I want to know,” Frank Writeman continued, “or I’m going to turn you over to him. Understood?”
The werewolves said nothing, deciding instead to see if the old man was bluffing. Billy decided he would not be the one to make the first move.
Frank turned back to the man in the shadows. “Would you like to add anything Dr. Robinson?”
“Sure,” a gravelly voice spoke up.
Suddenly, pure terror gripped Billy’s heart, and when Dr. Harold Robinson stepped out of the shadows, all hell broke loose.

Find out the fate of Billy and his friend in The Wintermen: Seasons Change Series Book 2 of 4