KvsW- Casefile [007][REDACTED]

A couple of weeks later…

Dawn was barely breaking on the horizon when Chris woke up to the sound of a lawnmower starting. With her eyes still closed, she gritted her teeth, wondering why the fuck anyone would be mowing grass that early in the morning. And then she realized it wasn't a lawnmower, but rather Dave's snoring.

She sighed and opened her eyes, turning her head a bit, finding her movement restricted by Dave’s arms being wrapped tightly around her midsection. The feeling of his body nestled up against hers gave her a bit of pause. Dave had been making her the little spoon quite a bit lately, and it felt a little strange to her, especially given what kind of person Dave was.

That was all beside the point, however, because as long as Dave was snoring, any hope of getting back to sleep was forlorn. Gently, she used her elbow to close his mouth and cut off the noise, but she unintentionally caused him to bite his own tongue.

Dave shouted incoherently as he startled awake and instinctively reached under his pillow for his revolver. It took him a few moments before his brain rebooted and he realized that they weren’t actually in any danger.

“Ugh… why did you just wake me up?” he whined, sliding the gun back under his pillow.

“Fuck you, you woke me up first with your snoring. I was trying to get it to stop.”

“By elbowing me in the jaw?”

“That was unintentional.”

“Uh-huh.”

Chris looked over at the nightstand and noticed her phone was showing an alert for a new message in her inbox. She scooped it up and unlocked the screen, and the backlight switched on, blinding in the near total darkness of the bedroom.

Dave groaned and buried his face in his pillow. “Seriously? Do you have to be checking that in bed?”

“Something new’s come in. I’m wide awake now thanks to you snoring like a jet turbine. Might as well check it out.” She untangled herself from his grasp and swung her feet off the side of the bed, sitting up. “I’ll be in the living room or something when you decide to drag your lazy ass outta here.”

“Mmmph.”

She went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee, and set about on getting in contact with their newest prospective client.

Dave finally dragged himself into the living room some time later, after the sun had risen rather high in the sky and Chris had finished up with her inquiries and research.

She was lounging on the couch in her Rhodesian camo underwear, with a beer in one hand, browsing /k/ on her laptop with the other, and the TV playing a documentary about the Korean War on low volume in the background. Cyka was curled up in a ball against her thigh, his beady little eyes half-lidded. It was all the very incarnation of the word /comfy/.

She looked up at him as he approached. “Ah, nice of ya to finally join me in the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty. I was about to go in there with a hose to do it the hard way.”

He shrugged. “Hey, you really can’t blame me for being so tired in the morning when you’re basically draining all of my energy each night before.” He sat down heavily next to her, disturbing the beagle, who jumped off the couch to find a quieter spot to nap.

She smirked at him and pointed at an unopened beer on the coffee table. “There’s one if you want it.”

“Isn’t it a little early?”
“It’s like, ten in the morning. Besides, it’s just beer, not Bubba’s moonshine.”

“Eh, I’ll still pass.”

“Suit yourself.” She took one more sip from her beer before setting it down and dedicating her full attention to her laptop. “Hey, wanna hear about the new job offer?”

“Are you sure it’s real this time?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you seriously gonna complain about jobs coming in?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Well, no, but when you’re expecting to get to shoot a chupacabra and it turns out to be a pack of mangy old coyotes, it’s a bit of a letdown.”

“What, don’t like spending time with me all of a sudden?” she asked with a furrowed brow and a frown.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said quickly, “I have no problem with going cross-country with you on a moment’s notice.”

“Then don’t complain. Besides, this one’s just a few hours away from the looks of it.” She pulled up a series of e-mails on the laptop. “The guy’s just across the state line in Wisconsin. He’s a priest in one of those small towns off the beaten path, and seems to have a rather real problem on his hands, of the furry two-legged canine variety.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Dogmen, you think?”

“Totally sure of it. Descriptions match, his account of observed behavior seems in line with what we know, and he set up a few trail cameras outside his church, got a few good images for us.”

She pulled them up for Dave to view. The images were black-and-white and grainy, but he could make out glowing eyes and hunched-over humanoid forms. “What’s that last one?” he asked when she got to it. The image was mostly of a blur, as if something was moving inhumanly fast at the moment the picture was taken.

“He says every single one of his cameras were destroyed, just three nights after he put them out. I’m guessing this might be the last image he captured with one.”
“Hmm…” Dave scratched the side of his head and considered this. “The fact that they’d recognize cameras and actively destroy them is a bit concerning…”

“Well, doesn’t matter how smart they are, we already know exactly how to kill these things. It should be a walk in the park for us.”

“Heh. Famous last words.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She put her laptop away on the coffee table and stood up, leaning down for a moment to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. “Go get dressed and get the car ready, I’ll get the guns.”

“Wait, we’re leaving right now?”

“Fuck yeah we’re leaving right now, Mister ‘Cross-country at a moment’s notice.’ I’m done sitting around here, let’s find us some cryptids to shoot!”

Dave sighed loudly. “Alright, alright,” he said, and muttered something about being bitten in the ass by his own attempts at sweet-talking.

“What was that?” she shouted from the bedroom.

“N-nothing! I’ll get the car ready like you said! Love you!”

She smirked to herself and returned to stuffing duffel bags with weapons and ammunition.

Within a couple of hours, they were all packed up and ready to go. Dave was waiting in the car, keeping it running with the heater on, as the weather was shifting in a wintery direction with cold northerly winds blowing in. It wasn't yet snowing, but he knew it soon would be.

Chris was taking a long while to actually leave the apartment and come downstairs to street level, so he honked the horn a couple of times. He watched with bemusement as she opened the window for a moment to give him her middle finger.

Finally, she came down, wearing a big fluffy parka and carrying a shivering beagle in her arms. Dave unlocked the door for her and she unceremoniously shoved herself into the passenger’s seat.

“Took you long enough.”

“Fuck you, get driving.”

Dave just smirked and put the car in gear.

7 hours later…

The drive had taken a little longer than expected, as it was already getting dark by the time they rolled into the town. Chris had called ahead to the client and explained, and they had agreed that they would all meet the following morning to make the most out of the daylight hours.

In the interim, Dave had been driving around until he spotted the sign for a motel, and pulled into the lot just as Chris was finishing her call.

“This place look good for the night?” he asked.

“As good as any,” was the response. “Go in there, see if there's a room available.”

“How come I have to go? It's fucking cold out.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at him. “Dave, honey?” she asked in a sweet voice that unnerved him. “Do you like having sex with me? Or would you rather be content with your right hand for the next three months?”

He sighed long and loud, and stepped out of the car, into the freezing night wind, while Chris just smiled in a shit-eating way.

Dave muttered under his breath as he trudged up to the front desk office, which was in its own separate little structure. There was a lamp turned on inside, as well as a little sign that said “Yes, we’re OPEN” in the window, so he gave the door a push.

It jingled softly as he stepped inside, out of the cold. Until he realized it was still cold as balls inside as well, as if someone had a window open. There was a clerk manning the desk, but either there wasn’t a heater in the tiny building, or he hadn’t even bothered to turn it on. Either way, the clerk didn’t seem bothered one bit by the cold.

The only source of light was the lamp on the desk. Somehow, it seemed brighter from the outside. It barely did its job of illuminating the little desk and the paperback novel the clerk was reading, and did a better job of making the shadows seem darker.

The clerk himself was a rotund and balding little man, who took his time in even acknowledging Dave’s existence. Calmly as could possibly be, he dog-eared the page he was on and closed up his book, setting it aside before looking up at Dave and smiling with far too many teeth.

“Why, hello there, stranger! Welcome to the Moonshine Lodge, how can I help you? Looking for a room?”

“Uh… yeah… a room would be good…” said Dave, feeling a chill up his spine. Everything about the guy was creeping him out and setting off alarm bells in his head.

“Well you’re in luck, we have one left! And it’s the honeymoon suite, complete with color television and queen-sized bed!”

“Uh, sure, sounds good…”

“That’ll be a hundred and fifty dollars.”

“One hundred and fifty- wait what- agh… nevermind, whatever. Fine.” Dave coughed up the money and received a key. Then he shuffled back out to the car, hoping he’d never have to go in there again.
Dave put the car in gear and pulled it around the main building, noticing a distinct lack of cars in the lot. He severely doubted that the suite was the only room left, concluding it was just a line he was fed in order to gouge him on the price. But he was too tired to argue the point at the moment.

A couple of minutes later, he was at the door with a couple of duffel bags near his feet and Chris behind him, holding the dog. He fished the key out of his pocket while Chris swore under her breath at the chilly winds.

The room was a whole lot smaller than he’d anticipated, as he saw when he opened the door and flicked on the lights. It was only just large enough for a queen-sized bed, a small table, an old CRT television in one corner and a bathroom on the far side. The 70’s deco wallpaper was fading, the floor was covered in brown shag carpet, and it all smelled faintly of cigarettes, but it all in all, it appeared clean enough. The bed had fresh sheets at the very least.

“Honeymoon suite my ass… a hundred and fucking fifty for this…”

Chris slipped in and closed the door behind her, shivering a little even through her big fluffy parka. “Is there a heater in here? Fuckin’ freezing...”

Dave set his bags down on the floor and went over to a little thermostat panel, and turned the little dial to the maximum setting. After a few moments, some machine rattled to life, sending warm out through vents set in the wall, near to the floor.

“Thanks.” Chris deposited Cyka on the floor and her parka on the table, and sat on the bed, rubbing her arms to produce a little more heat. Cyka simply curled up next to the nearest vent and fell asleep.

Dave sat down right next to Chris. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Is… is something wrong?” she asked, noticing his silence.

“Yeah… I think we got ripped off with this room and… I dunno, I just feel like things are a bit… ‘off’ at this place.”
“What do you mean by ‘off?’”

“Just… just a feeling. Nothing concrete,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, okay then. Let’s just keep our eyes peeled, just in case,” she said, leaning into him slightly. She gave him a little peck on the cheek. “There’s a more pressing matter at hand, though. I’m still cold, so… wanna help me warm up?”

Dave blushed in response.

===

He cleared his throat. “H-how do you mean?”

“You always play coy, even though you already know exactly what I mean…” She kissed him on the cheek again and gave his ear a little playful nibble.

He chuckled nervously. “I didn't think to bring any protection along, though…”

“We don't need it. There are plenty of things we can do together that don't require protection…” With that, she carefully pushed him down flat on the bed and climbed into a straddling position atop him.

Looking down on her lover with a sly smile, she slipped her hands under his shirt and ran her fingers up and down over his chest. They were frigid to the touch, and the sensation caused him to shiver.

“See? Told you I needed your help with warming up,” she said with a giggle. Bending down, she closed her eyes and locked her lips with his for what seemed like the longest time, her fiery hair falling forward and draping onto his face.

Meanwhile, his hands clasped onto her knees, and began riding their way up her thighs, stopping every few inches to gently squeeze and feel her body through the fabric of her jeans. When he got up to her hips, she released the kiss and took a deep breath.

“Feeling any warmer?” he asked, as he slipped one hand under her shirt and teased her bellybutton with a finger.

She burst into a fit of girlish giggling and swatted his hand away. “Fuck you, that tickles!” she said with a grin.

“Yeah, I know, that's why I did it.”
“You're an assho-ho-ha-hahahahaha!” She burst into another fit of laughter as he teased her there again, and took advantage of the distraction to trade positions with her, so that she was the one on her back with him straddling on top.

“Sneaky sonuvabitch,” she said with a smirk as she recovered.

He smirked right back at her. “Heh… not often that I'm on top… guess I'll make the most of it…” Riding his hands up her sides, he brought them up to cup her breasts.

She bit her lower lip and rested her hands on his shoulders as he gave her mounds a good, solid kneading through her shirt. Then when he slipped his hands underneath, she couldn't help but let out a soft little moan.

He grinned. “Glad you're enjoying yourself as usual…” He found the edge of her bra by touch, and slipped his fingers under that garment as well. Her cute little gasp as he held her breasts directly only served to encourage him.

Slowly but firmly, he started kneading her supple mounds as if they were dough, eliciting more than a few lewd sounds from her. He flicked his thumbs over her hardening nipples in tandem a few times, and he felt her squirm beneath him.

“Ah… yeah… there you go…” she spoke, bordering on breathless.

With his thumbs and index fingers, he pinched and pulled and twisted the little buds, until she was practically bucking her hips, grinding herself against him. He felt a bit of pain as his manhood strained against his pants, as if desperate to escape their confines.

He stopped his teasing to unbutton his jeans and to allow Chris to catch her breath.

He was right about to get right back into it when he suddenly had an idea. With only slightly shaky hands, he unbuttoned her jeans as well and rolled her onto her side.

“Huh? What are you doing now?” she asked, though she immediately received her answer as he got on his side right behind her, slipped one arm under her body, and made her into his little spoon.

Her cheeks flushed red as she felt one of his hands come back up under her shirt, and the other trailed down to her crotch.

He didn't slip the hand into her panties right away; rather, he seemed intent on teasing her even more before he'd give her any release. He rubbed back and forth on her inner thigh just below her nethers, pinching and squeezing in a similar manner to how his other hand was dealing with her breasts again.

It was driving her crazy. She'd turned her head a bit so that she was gasping and moaning all but right into his ear. She felt the tip of his manhood rubbing the small of her back as he kept grinding against her body. He gave a moment's pause in his efforts to let out a breath he'd been holding, and she took the opportunity to press her lips together with his for a long kiss before he resumed the teasing.

He finally decided he'd stop torturing her, and slid his fingers under the waistband of her now soaked panties. He found her slit and cupped it for a moment, then started to run his index finger back and forth over its length, slowly, so slowly. He didn't penetrate her; the finger was just sliding over the lips of her nethers. His thumb brushed her clit, causing her to shudder and gasp loudly. His actions were rendering her putty in his hands.

His middle finger joined in the fun, and while still teasing the lips with his index, he just barely inserted it into her, massaging just inside her opening. He could feel the heat building up down there, and his fingers were very soon covered in her fluids.

With both fingers, he finally inserted into her properly, working them in and out of her repeatedly, feeling the hot, slick walls of her vagina contract and spasm around them. She was right on the edge, and when he started working his thumb in circles around her clit, it was enough to send her over.
Her back arched and stiffened and she shut her eyes tight, letting out a long, soft moan, that was punctuated with an adorable little squeak at the end, as her toes curled and chills ran down her spine.

Having reduced his haughty lover to a sweaty, panting mess, he withdrew his hands from her sensitive areas and wrapped his arms tightly around her midsection, planting kisses on her neck.

“Heh… heh… you're a… son of a bitch… you know that... “ she said, still panting. “Where'd you… learn to do that?”

“I used to watch a lot of porn...”

“Used to? I caught you… browsing trap threads… on /d/ the… other day…”

“… sh-shut up…”

She chuckled and turned around in his grasp to be face-to-face with him, their noses touching. She gave him a light little kiss and just stared into his eyes for a while, content to stay like that with him. She took one of his hands and squeezed it, and he squeezed back.

“Heh, guess I should pay you back for…” she started, but trailed off when she noticed Cyka growling at the door, hackles bristling. Her eyes widened as she looked back at Dave, and her eyes darted back and forth from him to the window.

He instantly took the hint and got up off the bed, shutting off the lights before peering through the blinds. It was pitch black outside and he couldn't see anything. But still, Cyka kept growling, and he trusted the dog’s higher senses over his own eyes. He looked back and saw Chris already squatting over their bags, pulling out her WASR and an AR-15 for him.

Something started scratching at the door, and Cyka’s courage failed him. The little dog ran and cowered in the bathroom, whining pitifully.
Chris handed the AR-15 to Dave along with a magazine and a pair of earplugs, both of which he pushed into their respective holes. She rocked a magazine into her WASR, seating it with a loud click. The scratching stopped suddenly. Whatever was outside had heard them.

They readied their weapons, and retreated to the far end of the cramped room. Dave shut the bathroom door to protect the terrified beagle inside from what might happen. Chris took aim at the door. Dave aimed at the window.

They waited.

===

They waited for what seemed like an eternity, but heard nothing more from the other side of the door.

“Do you think it's gone?” asked Dave in a hushed tone.

“No idea. Go check, I'll cover you,” responded Chris.

Dave mustered up his courage and stepped cautiously up to the door, weapon still trained on it. He leaned over towards the window, brushing the curtain aside with one hand.

The glass suddenly shattered as a massive, burly arm covered in fur smashed through, claws outstretched, reaching out for him. He leapt back and started dumping into the window. The creature shrieked and withdrew its arm. The door was then slammed into with great force, splintering the wood.

Dave retreated back to Chris, and they emptied their weapons into the door, the air becoming thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Still, the beast kept slamming into the door. The hinges were ripped out of the frame and the door snapped in half across the middle. The creature ripped both pieces out and tossed them across the parking lot. It stood in the ruined door frame, silhouetted by moonlight. Chris shot it three more times, emptying her magazine. It shrugged the bullets off like they were bee stings and started squeezing into the opening.

Dave reached for the gun bag, but a swipe from the creature's claws nearly took his head off. Chris pulled him back at the last second, and they backed up against the wall.

“I guess this is it?” Chris asked with an uncharacteristic tremble in her voice. “There's gotta be something… a way out… I don't know! Something! Shit!”

As the canine creature bore down on them and they held onto each other for dear life, they found themselves suddenly blinded by an intense light from outside, pouring in from the broken door frame and window. The creature stopped mid-stride and turned its head.

An unfamiliar voice came from behind it. “Oi, ye fookin dirtbird! Over here, cunt!”

The beast turned around fully, holding a clawed hand in front of its face to see into the light. A single gunshot rang out, followed by a near simultaneous meaty thunk as a slug hit the creature square in the chest. Its limbs jerked and went rigid all of a sudden, like a delayed reaction, and it feel forward in a heap, a horrible gurgling sound rattling from its throat as it died.

As Dave and Chris stood there dumbfounded, the mysterious newcomer approached the doorway, an almost pure black silhouette against the blinding white light, carrying a rifle of some sort slung over the shoulder. The figure made a motion with one hand as if crossing itself, and muttered quiet prayer.

When finished, the figure turned its attention to the duo. “Well, what is it?” it asked in a borderline hostile tone. “Are the pair of ya thick? Not even gonna thank me?”

“Uh… I… th-thank you?” Dave managed to stammer out, which seemed to satisfy their savior.

“Warn’t so hard, were it? Come outside with me, I’ll turn off the floodlight. And pull up yer bleedin’ pants, woman.”

Chris’s face turned beet red when she realized her jeans were hanging around her ankles. She hastily pulled them back up and buttoned them.

They stepped over the large furry corpse and out into the parking lot, into the blasting wind and chilly air. Dave pulled his partner close to keep her warm. He felt her trembling, and wondered whether it was from the cold or from the adrenaline.

The floodlight dimmed out, and by degrees the pair regained their night vision, seeing their savior in a bit more detail in the pale light of a full moon.

He was a tall and lanky man approaching the older end of middle-aged, clean shaven with a sharp buzz cut and thick glasses balanced on his nose. He had on a leather jacket and worn out slacks, and a white clerical collar around his neck.

“Me name’s Adam,” he said, his Irish accent dense as a brick and unapologetic. “And I’m assumin’ the two of ye are the gimps I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m Dave,” said Dave, “and this is Chris, my partner.”

Adam scoffed. “She’s yer partner, I’ll bet. I heard the two of ye sinning under the Lord’s sight from out here in the fookin’ carpark.”

Chris hid her face behind her hands, burning up with embarrassment.

“You were spying on us?” asked Dave, tone incredulous.

“It warn’t spyin’, ya daft bastard, it were reconnoitering. That’s Frog for makin’ sure you bleedin’ tools were the hoonters I sent fer and not just a set of helpless tourists. And from the fight ye put up, seems like yer the former. And ye should be grateful besides. I saved yer skins, didn’t I?”

===

“Yeah… I guess you did…” Dave said with a sigh.

“Don't worry,” said Adam, “It warn’t like I was peekin’ into yer window.”

“Eh, can we just agree to drop the subject for now?”

“Agreed.”

Chris finally spoke up. “How come we weren't able to kill that thing? We put sixty rounds into it point blank…”

“You weren't using blessed silver, that's why.”

“Silver? What, are you saying that was a werewolf?”

Adam looked at her like she'd grown a third head. “What the feck kinda hoonters are ya if ya didn't know that was a werewolf? You said you’d had dealings with werewolves before. Were ya lying?”

“We’ve hunted dogmen, not werewolves! I didn’t even think those actually existed!”

“Heheheh. Well, I s’pose the pair of ye tits are gonna get a crash course on ‘em tonight, then.” Adam gave them a shiteating smirk. “Why don’tcha go over there and look at the gobshite who just tried to maul ya.”

They did so with a little bit of hesitance, which almost immediately evaporated when they noticed the huge furry corpse had been replaced with that of a rotund man, completely naked.
“Holy shit… it’s the front desk clerk!” said Dave, shocked.

Adam sauntered over and pushed the corpse over onto its back with his foot. The clerk’s face was contorted into an expression of agony, frozen in death. Chris turned away and covered her mouth and nose to keep herself from vomiting; the corpse smelled as if it had been rotting for weeks.

Dave pinched his nose shut as well, though Adam seemed unbothered and knelt next to the body. “You said ya put sixty bullets in tha bastard?”

“Yeah… two full magazines, thirty each.”

“See that? No entry wounds from any of yer bullets,” said Adam, waving his hand. “Just the one from the bullet that came outta me ol’girl Lilly here,” he said, patting the stock of his rifle. He pointed at a single round hole right in the middle of the chest. There was no blood; rather, the flesh seemed necrotic all around it.

“This is fucking eerie,” said Chris, a short distance away and recovering her composure.

“How is this possible, though? Why does only silver work? You’d think pumping a bunch of lead into something would just outright kill it?” asked Dave.
“First off, only blessed silver works. Regular silver hurts ‘em, but it don’t seem to be packin’ enough in it to kill ‘em. Conventional stuff, totally useless. Unless we’re talkin’ explosives. You blow something into little meat chunks, it ain’t comin’ back, no matter what. And as to why it’s so hard to kill the shitbirds… well...” Adam shrugged.

“You don’t know why?”

“I know why, ya gimp. But you wouldn’t understand. Werewolves are unholy beasties. They're walking corpses kept moving about by a tortured soul trapped inside ‘em, doomed to walk the Earth until someone like me comes along an frees em from this mortal coil, and sends ‘em up to tha good Lord for judgement.”

He stood up, cradling his rifle. “Go ahead an’ call me crazy, but if you were lookin’ fer some fancypants scientific answer, maybe ye should ask a damn scientist instead of a priest.”

===

The sound of approaching sirens suddenly caught their collective attention.

“Hey, guys, think we should continue this elsewhere?” asked Chris, looking a bit antsy. “I mean, it isn’t going to look good for us at all standing around the scene of what could very well be perceived as a murder.”

Adam simply chuckled. “Y’think runnin’ from the law’s the solution here, do ya? Wouldn’t matter if ya did, you gimps left a damned metric tonne of physical evidence here. What’re ya thinking you’d do, wipe down every surface for fingerprints, replace the sheets, wipe yer names from the ledgers, pick up all the empty cartridges and make yerselves scarce in scant five minutes ya have before the law arrives?” He folded his arms over his chest to accentuate the point.

Dave and Chris looked at each other as the realization that they’d be fucked either way dawned upon them.

“What do you suggest we do, then?” asked Dave, turning back to Adam.

“Keep yer mouths shut, if you will, and I’ll take care of everything. Trust me, this woon’t be percieved as no murder.”

Not even a minute later, a Crown Victoria emblazoned with the logos of the local sheriff’s department came tearing around a corner, lights blazing and siren blaring. It pulled up into the parking lot and screeched to a halt. The driver and passenger side doors were flung open and two men jumped out, service pistols unholstered and maglights sweeping the darkness.

Adam streched his back and propped his Martini-Henry up against the wall, and approached the men with his hands open in a peaceful gesture.
“Evenin’ to ya, Sheriff Greggs. Evenin’, Deputy Marks.”

The Sheriff turned his maglight in Adam’s direction, causing the approaching priest to squint from the sudden brightness.

“I’d feckin’ appreciate it if ye didn’t shine the feckin’ light in me eyes, ye gobshite,” Adam said with a bit of a growl.

“Father McConnell, what the… ah, for fuck’s sake. We got a report of a fucking gun battle going on over here. Probably has something to do with you, huh?”

“Well, Sheriff, I certainly can’t argue with yer powers of deduction, can I?”

The Sheriff sighed with great exasperation and holstered his gun. “Was it another one?”

“Aye. Bloody big bastard about to have a couple’a tourists for supper. Yer lucky I happened to be out and about or you’d be dealin’ with somethin’ much more gruesome.”

“Show me the aftermath, Father.”

Adam led the cops over to Dave and Chris, who were standing by the corpse. Chris held a squirming beagle in her arms and Dave had his own arms around her, trying to warm her up as the adrenaline wore off. They were staring at the corpse, still processing the events that had just occurred, but they looked up as the trio approached.

“I'm assuming these are the tourists you mentioned,” said the Sheriff. His deputy went and squatted by the body to examine it.

“Uh, yeah, officer,” said Dave, “We're not from around here. Just passing through.”

“Yeah, this was just self defense!” spouted Chris.

Adam shot them both a look that told them to shut their traps. “Ah, Sheriff, that's just their nerves talkin’. The truth of it is that they're me guests. Extended family. Fifth cousins four times removed, however ya Yanks call it.”

“Extended family, huh?”

The deputy stepped out from the wrecked doorway. “They seem pretty well-armed for a family pleasure trip.”

“I thought this were America, land o’ the free and all that chuff? Aren't no laws against having weapons, are there?”

The Sheriff sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Father McConnell, for fuck’s sake, I'm not an idiot. And it's not like you have to hide this shit from me. We're in the same boat, for better or worse.”

“Sheriff, remember our deal. You stay outta my business, and ye get to keep yer hands clean o’ the whole affair.”

“Kind of fucking hard to stay out of it the longer this goes on, and now you’re bringing more people into it? Eventually the wrong people are going to start asking questions, and I won’t have any fucking answers. And then we’re both fucked.”

“I’m well fookin’ aware, Sheriff. And it’s being handled.”

“It better be.” The Sheriff took off his hat and ran his fingers through his thinning hair, looking over the scene in the room. He let out a long, rasping sigh. “Do your thing, make this go away. We were never here.”

“Of course, Sheriff Greggs.”

The lawman turned to look at Dave and Chris. “You two. I don’t give a fuck who you are. I don’t want to know. Once you’re done helping him,” he said, gesturing to Adam, “I better not ever see you around here again.”

They nodded instantly.

The Sheriff seemed satisfied to an extent, and gave his deputy the signal to follow him back to the patrol car. They switched the strobe lights off and peeled out of the lot.

Adam clapped his hands together. “Well, that warn’t so bad were it?”

“Yeah… I guess… but, uh, you are going to explain all of this to us, right? Because I’m sure I can speak for both of us when I say we’re confused as fuck right now.” asked Chris.

“Of course, me friends. All will be revealed in due time, but first I need yer help loadin’ the poor bastard over there into the bed of me truck. He’s a big one, so three sets of hands should do the trick.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and went to the other end of the lot, over to a white pickup truck.

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves wrapped up in…” Dave mused.

===


An hour later...

The corpulent ex-werewolf had taken some sweating and straining to finally get loaded up in the back of Adam’s truck, but they got it done eventually, at the cost of Dave pulling something in his back. Afterwards, Chris and Dave loaded up their bags in their own car and followed behind Adam’s truck, headed over to his church.

Dave was finding the resultant silence uncomfortable, and decided to break it.

“Are you okay? You’re being kinda quiet…”

“I’m fine, Dave,” she said, scratching behind Cyka’s ears.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Another period of silence passed.

“It’s fine if you’re not okay, you know. I won’t judge you.”

“Dave, sweetie, I’m going to break with the anger management bullshit and hit you very, very hard if you keep this up the whole way.”

“Sorry… sorry…”
“Don’t. Don’t apologize, I know you mean well. And I really am okay, I was just taken off guard back there.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Usually we’re only in mortal danger once we actually get hunting, and we’re deep in some dark forest. Certainly didn’t expect it to coming looking for us. And, uh… you did leave me in a bit of a weakened state beforehand…”

“I did, didn’t I?” he said while cracking a little smirk.

She giggled and turned her attention back to the road. “Oh, eyes forward. He's pulling off on a side road.”

Adam had turned left off the main road, onto a rougher gravel pathway that lead down to a large wrought-iron gate with an old stone wall around it, covered in moss. Within the walls was a single-storey building with stained glass windows, aging weather panelling, and a set of double doors with a cross above them. All was as could be expected of a backwater church.

Adam killed his truck’s engine and stepped out of the cab with a large flashlight. Dave parked beside him and the pair stepped out into the chilly night air as well.

“Welcome to me humble abode,” said Adam as he locked the gate. “It aren't much to look at, but it's a good thing the good Lord is a fan of humility to begin with.”
He let himself in through the front, and held the door open for his companions. The ceilings were high and pitched, and their footsteps echoed across the darkened main room, which had a few rows of pews with a raised podium at the far end, as well as an altar.

They were led past the altar to a door in the corner. “There’s a wee dwelling around the side if ya noticed. It ain’t actually where I sleep, it’s mostly a mockup in case the wrong sort come around lookin’ for me.”


“Where do you actually live then?”

“In the basement of the church itself. Was originally a fallout shelter, believe it or not. Came with a hardened door an’ plenty’a livin’ space, it’s the dog’s bollocks, I tell ye.”

It looked as Adam had advertised. A fallout shelter with a large steel door, which was sitting open. The interior, however, looked like the interior of any regular old apartment one would expect to find above ground, with wallpaper, wood panelling, and shag carpet.

“Go on, make yerselves at home.” He plopped down on comfortable-looking chair in front of a coffee table and fished out a gun cleaning kit from underneath. He put his Martini-Henry on top and set to work.

“You’re letting us stay here, then?”

“Aye. Seein’ as how I may have not given ye sufficient warnin’ as to the nature of the troubles here, it’s only fair, don’t ye think?”

“Ah. Well, thanks,” said Dave.

“Doon’t mention it.”

Chris set Cyka down on the floor, and the little thing ran underneath the nearest piece of furniture he could fit under, nervous with the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Hey, make sure the little beast don’t shit’n piss all over me carpet.”

“Sure,” said Chris, her attention wandering to a gas fireplace in the wall. “Mind if I set this thing up? I’m freezing my ass off.” Adam made a ‘go ahead’ gesture with one hand.

Chris used a torch lighter resting on top of the mantel to get the flames going, and sat down on the floor, hands outstretched. Cyka came out from hiding and snuggled up next to her, falling asleep.
As she warmed herself, she looked up and noticed a large Irish flag pinned to the wall as a mantelpiece. Given the thick accent Adam displayed, the Irish flag in itself wasn’t surprising. It was a different flag, draped over a bookcase next to the fireplace that caught her attention. It was a deep emerald green, with what appeared to be a yellow plough set in the center, adorned with stars.

“Hey,” she suddenly asked, interrupting a quiet little conversation Dave and Adam were having in the background. “I get the Irish flag, but what’s that one there, on the bookcase?”

Adam cleared his throat. “Ah… it’s an Irish flag too. But from a different time.”

Dave craned his neck to see what she was talking about, and he instantly recognized the source. Adam saw his eyes widen, so he raised his hands defensively. “Trust me, friend. It was a different time. And times have changed.”

Dave still looked skeptical, so Adam added, “I keep it around mostly as a reminder to the past. To remind me of how thankful I am to the good Lord for helpin’ me to see the light, and change me path in life.”

The tense moment passed, and the conversation resumed, with Chris joining in at some point later. Adam took to explaining the situation in the town when she decided to sit next to Dave and join in.

“You said you two have hoonted dogmen, yeah? Well, werewolves are a whole different beast than that, to use a bad pun. They’re usually out and about walking around looking like the person they used to be. They can blend in with a crowd, hide amongst the living, and kill for years without anyone ever bein’ the wiser to their antics. But there’s ways of pickin’ them out, if ye know what to look for.”
He took out a little notepad and flipped it open a few pages in. “The two of ye seem a wee bit sharper than some, so maybe ye noticed a few things off when ye spoke to the clerk?”

“Well, uh,” Dave began, “I don’t actually know what it was, specifically. He just… felt… creepy, if that’s anything.”

“Mhm. A sense of uncanniness is sometimes indicative that things may not be what they seem.”

“And, uh, he had all the windows open, in the middle of a cold and windy night, like it was normal. And the room there was dark except for a lamp.”

“Mhm. Mhm. Consistent with what I was observin’ of ‘em.”

“You had him under observation?”

“Why do ye think I was so quick to save the day? I was sittin’ across the street in a tree with a pair of binos watchin’ the bastard. Ye gotta be sure yer convictions before ye make a move. Or else ye may lose yer only chance.”

“So, why did you call us in again? Because if you have all of your werewolves under observation, and have a much more effective way of dispatching them at your disposal than we do, why even ask for our help?”

“You just outlined the problem without even knowin’ it.”

“Huh?”

“Werewolves. As in not an individual, but rather a fookin’ gaggle of the bastards. I’m one man. I can handle one at a time. As it stands, I’ve got five under observation. Well, four, now that we can count out the shitehawk at the motor inn.”
“Five, all in this one town?” asked Chris. “That’s probably not normal, right?”

“Ye bet yer sweet arse it’s ain’t normal. Werewolves ain’t social creatures.”

“Why do you think they’ve all converged here?”

“I’ve got an idea why. They aren’t here for no family reunion, that’s for sure. They’ve got a common purpose in mind.”

“Could you stop being cryptic and tell us what that purpose is, then?”

“They’re here for me.”

“You think so?”

“Aye. I’ve been in this line of work goin’ on twelve years now. I’ve killed plenty a werewolf in me time. And now I think they’ve gotten smart about it, and they’ve come here together to finally take me down. You saw the photos I sent ye. Those were taken by me trail cameras a scant two miles away from here, in the forest. They’re sniffin’ me out.”

“You called us in for backup, that I understand. Why not go to the cops and get their help? You seem to be pretty friendly with that Sheriff.”

“The Sheriff’s a crooked bastard. Wants his hands clean of the whole affair. Y’see, when a werewolf comes to town, there’s a pretty noticeable spike in mysterious disappearances and grisly murders. And given how we’re dealin’ with so many in one place, there’s been plenty o’ those to go around.”

“You’d think something like that would get national attention. I mean, even we haven’t heard about it and we’re just a few hours away.”
“Because the Sheriff and his deputies are doin’ their damndest to cover it up. If he starts gettin’ unwanted outside attention, it means someone is bound to stumble over all his little shady ‘deals’, like how he takes payoffs from the drug dealers and the local brothel, and from the illegal methamphetamine labs just outside of town. Cheeky bastard even has the gall to sample some o’ the product that comes outta those dens.”

“How do you-”

“You’re askin’ that to a man willin’ to freeze his bollocks off sittin’ up in a tree with a pair o’ binos and a rifle.”

“Point taken.”

“So you see me predicament. Outside help is what I needed, and it’s what I got, in the form of you two.”

“Do you really think we’d be of much use to you? Considering we have never encountered a creature like this before…”

“Maybe ye haven’t, but you’ve encountered *creatures* before. Which is the main thing. Werewolves may be tougher and smarter by a long streak, but the basic skills are transferable.” He got up from the couch and started walking into a different room. “Come, follow me. I did say I was going ta give ye a crash course, didn’t I?”
======
The room he led them into was dark at first, but illuminated with bluish fluorescent light at the flick of a switch. It wasn’t that large of a room, perhaps little more than a repurposed utility closet. But it had a reloading bench on one end and a few rifles on a wall rack on the other, so it seemed to serve the priest’s purposes just fine.

Adam grabbed a bullet from the bucket and tossed it to Dave. He rolled it over in his hands. “What caliber is this?”

“It's .577/450 Martini-Henry. It's what I feed to Lilly over on the table out there. Silver-cast, dipped in holy water, carved with a little icon of St. Hubert, the patron saint of hoonters.”

Dave handed the bullet to Chris to have a look.

“Does any of that stuff actually help?” she asked as she examined the carving.

Adam shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. I'm not going to bet me life that it don't, in any case. Better to stack the deck in yer favor.”

“I suppose it is. I do wanna ask, though, why make do this in such an obscure caliber?”

“Call it nostalgia for a time before yer time, perhaps. Ye know what I'm talkin’ aboot, aye? I saw those Rhodesian pattern knickers ye have on back at the motel.”

Chris’s face turned beet red, and Adam laughed heartily. Dave cleared his throat.

“Relax, just ‘avin some fun with ye. Anyway,” he said, reaching over to the gun rack on the wall and pulling an Enfield carbine off of it, “I've gone ahead and made some silver-cast rounds in some good ol’ .303 Empire Builder in anticipation of your arrival. Didn’t get to make too many, though. So when it comes down to the wire, make sure yer shots count.”

Dave was handed the rifle and a couple of clips. He started working the bolt a few times, getting a feel for the weapon.

“What about me?” asked Chris, hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t have happened to make some silver 7.62x39?”

Adam shook his head. “I doon’t have a Kalashnikov pattern handy ‘round ‘ere, and didn’t expect ye to be bringin’ one either. Went in a different direction.” He opened up a drawer on the reloading bench and pulled out an old .455 Webley and a small sack presumably full of rounds for it. He tossed both to Chris, who gave him an incredulous look in return.

“What the fuck’s with you and these oddball calibers? You expect us to fight monsters with this old shit?”

“Oi! Watch yer tongue, lass! This ‘old shite’ won two world wars and subjugated entire peoples, so show some bloody respect!”

She lowered her eyes and grumbled, turning the old revolver over in her hands to figure it out. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up again to see Adam holding a cavalry saber in a leather scabbard. “Take this as well, in case ye need it for a particularly close encounter. It’s saved me arse more than once out in the field.”

“A… sword?”

“Aye, lass. A sword. Before ye complain aboot it, yes, it’s outdated. But it’s still just as effective as it was three hoondred years ago.”

He quickly showed her how to loop the scabbard into her belt and directed her to the main room to practice with it. She pulled on the hilt and the blade came out with surprising ease. She sliced the air a few times, watching the light glint off the silver blade. She wanted to complain. She really did. But at the same time… she was finding it pretty fucking cool.
She pulled the old Webley from the holster on her other hip. With the revolver in one hand and the sabre in the other, she could envision herself standing on the lip of a trench in Somme or Ypres, ordering her men over the top. Yes, it was growing on her. She struck a dramatic pose with the sabre pointed in the direction of the imaginary enemy, those damned Hun werewolf bastards waiting in the trenches a scant hundred yards away.

Dave cleared his throat behind her, causing her to flinch out of her fantasy. “Oh, uh. Sup?”

“Having fun there?” he asked with a smirk.

She let out a long breath. “A little.”

“Too bad this guy doesn’t have uniforms from the period as well. I’d like to see you in one of those tan uniforms with a little officer’s hat. You’d probably look really cute in that.”

“Heh… where’s that coming from?” she asked, blushing slightly and smiling. He took the opportunity to give her a little peck on her lips.

“Oi, make sure ye gits don’t engage in any carnal activities while under me roof! Because it aren’t just me roof, it’s the Lord’s roof as well.”

“We weren’t… ah… nevermind. Sure, whatever,” responded Chris, rolling her eyes.

“Aboot sleepin’ arrangements. I may be a gracious host, but I aren’t that gracious. Have the couches if ye like. Only got one cot, that’s for me.”

“The couch’ll be fine,” replied Dave.

“Good. Blankets and pillows in a little closet over there, grab some if ye like. It’s pissing late right now, I need to get me some shuteye before tomorrow is here.”

“Alright. Goodnight. And thanks.”

“Doon’t mention it.”
The next morning…

Dave and Chris were awoken by the sound of clattering glassware. Adam was starting his morning by heaping a mound of ground up instant coffee into a drinking glass and filling it up with water, then gulping the bitter mess down on the spot without even bothering to mix it or warm it up. He then pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, poured it in the glass and swirled it around before gulping it down as well.

He noticed them watching him and raised his glass. “Breakfast of champions,” he said plainly.

He did have the decency to fix his guests some actual food for their breakfast, though it was only some instant oatmeal nuked in a low power microwave. Adam took the opportunity to explain his plans for the day. He was going to take the pair on a drive around the town and point out residents he’d been keeping tabs on.

It wasn’t a very long drive, maybe taking about four hours total. It was a small town, after all. And it helped that Adam didn’t linger around the suspects’ homes, making only a couple of passes on the road.

A bit of hiking followed. The priest showed the pair area where he’d left the trail cameras, and they made a quick swing back by the motel before returning to the church. In daylight, the scene looked different, though not by much. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in a light breeze. A bit of asking around gleaned them that the Sheriff had fabricated a tale about the night before to satisfy the residents, involving a bear attack and a pair of drunken hooligans from the next town over.

“Gotta admit, the guy works fast,” Dave said as they trudged through the dead leaves on the forest floor.

“Once again, he’s a crooked git, of course he works fast.” Adam stopped to pull a flask from his vest and gulp down a bit of the nectar from within. “He’s got to cover his own arse, don’t he?”
“Mhm… so, anything else you think you’ll need to catch us up on?” asked Chris, walking up to and leaning against an old tree.

“Nay. You’ve at least seen the long and short of things now, enough to help me in earnest.”

“How long do you think this’ll take, Adam?”

“Hard to say. Maybe a few days, a week, two weeks? They’re either going to move up their timetable and come after me sooner, or go back into hidin’ now that we’ve thinned their number by one. Yer arrival certainly weren’t something they were countin’ on. Daft bastards were probably expectin’ to find the wee old preacher man all by his lonesome, and rough ‘im up like they were RUC men durin’ the Troubles.”

“Eh?”

“Doon’t worry aboot it.”

Dave was in the middle of stretching and popping his back when he suddenly stopped and called over. “Hey, guys? Do you smell smoke?”

“Smoke? I don’t....” Adam’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, oh no! Fookin’ell les’go!” He took off at a sprinting clip, and the pair struggled to stay on his heels.

They were running back in the direction of the church, and the smoky smell grew stronger. They could see a black plume rising up into the sky. And then they could see the flames through the trees.

Adam broke into the clearing first, and stopped for only a moment to register what he was seeing. His church was burning to the ground. No sooner that Dave and Chris arrived back at his side, he took off again, rushing headlong at the flames.

“Lilly! Liiillllllyyyyy!” he screamed.

“Adam, for fuck’s sake, what are you doing!”

Still, he ducked into the flaming structure and disappeared from sight.

“Did that crazy fuck just run into a burning building for his rifle?!” screamed Chris, struggling to be heard over the roar of the flames.

“Fuck, fuck fuck! I’m gonna get him, we have to-” Dave was interrupted when he had to shield his face from a blast of heat, that resulted from the steeple collapsing in on itself.

“Fuuuuuck! Adaaaaam!”
===
Chris grabbed Dave under his arms and pulled him back from the flames. “There's nothing we can do for him!”

“Fuck! What about the dog?”

“Shit… shit, did we…”

“We left him in there!”

“Oh god…”

When the initial shock wore off, Dave had called the local fire department, and to their credit, they arrived rather quickly, but the structure was already almost burnt down to the foundations, and there was precious little anyone could do. The firemen instead decided to let the fire burn itself out and prevent it from spreading into the forest.

A couple of hours later, they were still standing outside, sitting on the back of one of the fire engines. One of the sheriff’s deputies had come around and taken a statement, then had taken off to report back to his boss.

What remained of the structure was still smoldering in places, and a couple of firefighters picked through the wreckage at the pair’s urging, looking for any signs of a recoverable body.

One of them threw up his hands and trudged back over to the truck. He pulled his mask off and brushed ash off his trousers as he approached.

“Well?” asked Chris, her arms wrapped around a sullen Dave, his eyes moist from mourning his canine best friend.

“Well, what?” replied the fireman. “There’s not much left. The blaze was too hot.”

“You couldn’t find anything at all? What about the basement?”

“Couldn’t find the entrance, it’s entirely buried. I’m sorry, but if the fire didn’t do it, the lack of oxygen and smoke did. I don’t see a way anyone could have survived.”

“Okay… thanks for looking, anyway…”

He nodded. “The marshall’s gonna be out here in a bit, got word on some forensic investigators from the city too. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say this was no accident. That’s just from what I’ve seen, though, so don’t take that too much to heart.”
The fireman exhaled and went on over to a group of several others who were talking amongst themselves. “Need a couple guys to wait here for the marshall. Any takers?”

One raised a hand. “Nobody else?” He turned to look at the one man still digging through the wreckage. “Hey, Joe! Good with stayin’ here for a bit?”

“Hang on! Hey, Mike, think I found something!” he shouted through his mask. He picked his way over some charred lumber to get closer to avoid having to yell. “Think I found that basement entrance they were talking about. I think I heard movement down there.”

The ground was shaken by a sudden explosion at the site where the man had been standing just a moment prior. Ash and debris were thrown high into the air as everyone dove for cover.

“What the fuck! Was that a gas line?”

“There’s no lines that run out this far! Maybe it was propane tank or something!”

Another explosion rocked the area. “Back! Back, now! Behind the trucks!”

A few moments of silence passed, with everyone safely camped behind the trucks, covering their heads. But they all started to notice something that sounded like muffled swearing.

A few heads peered out and watched in utter confusion as a man covered in ash, wearing what looked to be a charred WWI uniform and a steel Brodie helmet, crawled out of the freshly excavated hole in the ground. His face was concealed by a gas mask with a long hose that lead to a cannister on his belt. In one hand, he had an old rifle, wrapped up in a plastic sleeve. In the other, he held a small dog, wearing a gas mask of its own, held in place with a healthy amount of duct tape.

He looked like a spectre from the trenches of the Great War fought a century ago, come back to the land of the living to wreak some unholy vengeance upon the descendants of his enemy. In a way, anyone making that assessment would not be very far from reality.
He took a few steps forward and fell to his knees. Dave and Chris bolted forward to help him, followed by a couple of firemen who’d recovered from the shock of the unearthly sight.

Adam knocked the helmet off of his head and tore the mask off, desperate for a breath of fresh air rather than the stale and stagnant stuff stored in the cannister. Dave helped him into a sitting position and was immediately handed a wriggling beagle.

“Yer feckin’ dog pissed all over me rugs while we were out. If it weren’t fer the fire, I’d have had ye pay for the cleanin’ costs,” said Adam with as much of a smirk as he could manage.

“You goddamn asshole,” shouted Chris, punching the priest’s arm, “we thought you were dead!”

“Oi! Watch yer tongue. No takin’ me Lord’s name in vain.”

“Sorry.”

“Glad to see you're alright, though,” said Dave, hugging the dog tightly and at the same time trying to remove the duct tape from around its neck.

“How’d you survive down there?” asked one of the firemen, looking Adam over for injuries.

“I had a bloody bunker down there, how do ye think, ye git? I closed the bloody door. Kept the flames out, for the most part. Had to break out the military surplus to deal with the smoke, however.”

“Well, I think after this, I’ve seen everything.”

Adam gave a toothy grin. “Oh now, son, you don’t know the half of it.”
About an hour later…

The firemen had initially insisted that an ambulance be called for the priest, but they abandoned the idea at Adam’s vehement behest, along with the reasoning that “I’m already going ta need to rebuild me bloody church, ye gobshites. An ambulance ride is going ta put me in the bloody poorhouse!”

They gave him some basic first aid for the superficial burns on his arms, and sent him off with Dave and Chris on the promise that they’d take him directly to the nearest hospital to be looked at.

Of course, that was not the intention, as Adam explained during the ride.

“I am by nature, a patient and loving man. But what I cannae abide by is an attempt on me bloody life that destroys me house of worship to the good Lord, and very nearly claims me most prized material possession,” he said, caressing the stock of his Martini-Henry.

“So, we’re going to wipe them out tonight then?” asked Dave, who was in the passenger’s seat, cradling Cyka as his whimpers echoed down the tube of the gas mask.

“Good damned guess, boyo. At the moment, the whole lot of heathens probably think I’m dead and buried ‘neath a ton of rubble. Probably letting their guard down. But also probably planning on leaving town now that their task is complete.”

“Is it the same four you had under surveillance? The ones you showed us?” asked Chris, navigating the dirt road as the late afternoon sun shined in her eyes.

“Aye, lass. The very same ones.”
“Are we absolutely sure here that we’re going to be gunning down actual werewolves and not innocent people?”

“Trust me, I know. As ye Americans like to say, ‘this aren’t me first rodeo,’ or something of that ilk. I’ve been doing this for years, as I’ve said before. You get to know the signs as well as one knows the back of his own hand.”

“Are any of those particularly damning?”

“What would you say about someone crawling into the forest on all fours at 2 in the bloody morning covered in coarse fur and having the snout of a dog?”

“Oh… I suppose that is pretty damning…”

“That’s right,” said Adam, nodding to himself. “For us, it’s now open season on these arseholes.”

Their first target was holed up in a small apartment on the edge of town. They headed straight for it, and once they got onto the right street, Adam had them turn off the lights and pull off to the side of the road. He reached from the backseat and grabbed a pair of binoculars from the glove compartment, and sat in the back, watching.

It didn't take long before he tapped the pair on their shoulders. “Have a look,” he said, handing the binoculars to Chris. “I was right, they're packing up shop. We've got to get them all tonight, or never.”

Chris held the binoculars up and saw three people under a streetlight, loading boxes into the back of an SUV. They seemed to be in quite a hurry. Two of them a man and a woman, helped with one more box before appearing to say their goodbyes and climbing into their own car, driving off. The third one stayed where he was, and pulled out a cell phone to make a call.

“David, start the engine again, drive up slowly. Christine, I need ye ta get out that Webley.”

“What, are we gonna do a drive-by in a populated residential neighborhood?”

“Precisely. We have to do it and get out fast, before the locals wake up.”

“That's crazy!”

Adam exhaled deeply. “If yer worried about yer identity being discovered, I have a couple of balaclavas back here. Want ‘em?”

“Well… that would make me feel a little better about this…”

“It doesn’t make ME feel better about this!” cried Dave.

“Well you can shaddup and drive and keep yer head down, ya muppet. I aren’t askin’ yer opinion, now, am I?”
Dave just grumbled in response. Adam handed Chris a balaclava and put one on himself. He loaded a round into Lilly.

“Before we do this, are we ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY, BEYOND A SHADOW OF A DOUBT sure this guy’s a werewolf?”

“Aye. You’ll see, lass. You’ll see. Are ye ready?”

She sighed as she finished loading her revolver. She snapped it closed and cocked the hammer. “Yeah. Ready.”

“Right then. David, hit the lights and gun that engine, we’re going ta shock and awe the bastard!”

The old man was still on the phone when he noticed the sound of an engine revving and tires screeching. He whipped around to see the truck come to a noisy halt square in front of him, and two guns poke out from the passenger’s side windows. He snarled and adopted an aggressive stance, though he had no time to do anything more than that. Three gunshots rang out and he hit the concrete sidewalk like a sack of potatoes.

Adam immediately jumped out and delivered another shot into the old man’s head, point-blank. Chris jumped out as well and was immediately struck by the scent of rotting flesh. She gagged and covered her mouth. “Jesus Christ…”

“Oi, no takin’ the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Sorry…” She started taking shallow breaths and stepped closer for a better look at the body. The streetlight provided enough illumination that she could see it rather clearly, and notice that there was no blood. “It’s like the guy back at the motel…”

“Well… at least that means we got the right one,” quipped Dave from the driver’s seat, looking over. His attention was soon drawn elsewhere, as he noticed lights being turned on in nearby homes. “Guys, the neighbors are taking notice, hurry up!”
“One thing we hafta do first, boyo,” said Adam, hefting a jerry can from the bed of the truck. He unscrewed the cap and started dousing the corpse with gasoline, then tossed the entire can in the back of the parked SUV for good measure. He pulled a matchbook from his pocket and lit one, tossing it onto the body as he stepped back into the cab. “Okay, it’s done, step on it! Get us outta here!”

Dave didn’t have to be told twice, and peeled out as police sirens approached.

One down. Three to go.

“The two people that left in their own car… I assume they’re our next targets?” asked Dave, looking into the rearview mirror every few seconds to ensure that no cops were following them.

“You assume correctly, lad. Remember the place we drove by in the daylight. Much more secluded. We won’t have to be as hasty with these ones.”

It was definitely secluded, almost on the edge of the county, a little cabin in some sparse woods. As before, they went dark and sat in the truck, watching their targets pack up their car with boxed up belongings from afar.

“This is a nice place. How’d these undead fuckers score a nice place like this?” asked Dave, peering through the binoculars this time.

“They went in under the cover of night and murdered the original occupants,” responded Adam, rather matter-of-factly. “A lovely elderly couple. I can only hope their passing was quick and relatively painless.”

“Hmph… hey… I think they’ve finished up with their preparations. They’re getting into the car and… starting it. Adam, they’re going to get away if we don’t do something.”

“Well then, start up the bloody truck! Or are ye waiting for a gilded invitation?”

“Right, sorry.” He started the engine and the headlights came on.

“What the feck are ye doin’, turn those feckin’ lamps off now!”

But it was already too late. The werewolves had seen them, and they knew their cover was blown. They started their car and sped out of the driveway. They sped past Adam’s truck, headed in the opposite direction, towards the freeway.

“Get after them! Go! GO!”

Dave spun the truck around and initiated pursuit, closing the distance as fast as he could.

“We can’t let these bastards hit the freeway, too many witnesses, and we’ll lose ‘em there! Lass, see what ye can do!”

“I got ya!” Chris shouted back, and pulled out her gun, firing at the car. She tried and failed to hit the driver. Her rounds impacted the body of the sedan and blew out the rear windshield instead.

“Aim for the tires, honey!” Dave instructed, while she reloaded.

She shifted her aim slightly downwards and squeezed off another six rounds at the car’s wheel wells. One of the rear tires exploded in spectacular fashion.

The driver lost control and the sedan spun out of control, and then started flipping end over end down the road, with parts flying off in every direction. It stopped flipping and ended up upside down, spinning and skidding along the asphalt and sending sparks everywhere until it finally came to a standstill. Dave pulled the truck up alongside the wreckage, and they all piled out to finish the job they’d started.

Dave went around the driver’s side with his Enfield at the ready, and found the male werewolf upside down and still strapped in. Despite it being disoriented from the crash, it appeared mostly uninjured. Not to mention it was in the middle of transforming into a beast, with claws springing from the tips of its fingers, and thick patches of black fur bursting forth on its arms. Not wanting to see what the end result of the transformation would look like up close, Dave put a stop to it with a single round of Empire Builder to the skull.

Two down. Two to go.
Chris went around the passenger side with the Webley, and found the female werewolf crumpled in an unconscious heap. “This one’s knocked out cold,” she reported.

Adam had pulled another can of gasoline from the bed of the truck, and called over to her. “Save the bullet if it aren’t movin’. Bloody things are expensive to manufacture. Let the petrol do the work for us.”

Dave and Chris backed away as the priest brought jerry can over, and poured the contents out in a ring around the overturned car. He joined them a short distance away and tossed a freshly lit match. The whole thing immediately went up in flames.

Adam was in the midst of muttering a prayer under his breath for the souls of the beasts when an unearthly wail pierced the night, and the overturned car’s passenger door flew off of its hinges and skidded away. The flames parted as the large, dark shape of a fully transformed werewolf leapt through, knocking the trio to the ground. The beast took off bounding, wailing and roaring in anguish the whole way.

“AAAAAH feckin’ hell, that’s what I get for tryin’ to be frugal! Get in, ya gimps and let’s get after her!” Adam climbed into the driver’s seat and only waited just long enough for the pair to climb in after him, their doors slamming from the acceleration as he floored it.

The werewolf was on all fours, bolting at inhuman speed down the road, but Adam kept the pedal to the floor and started exceeding its speed with his truck. Every little bump and pothole was jostling the interior of the cab, but he kept the truck under control, if only just.

The beast was illuminated by the truck’s hi-beams, giving Chris a clear view of what to shoot at. She leaned out of the passenger’s side window and fired off the six rounds in the Webley, then reached into the sack on her hip to reload it. A sudden impact with a pothole caused the sack to spill its contents all over the floor of the cab.

“Fuck!”

“Here, Chris, use this!” Dave yelled over the sound of the engine, handing his Enfield to her. She chambered a round and leaned out the window again, letting it loose. It went wide, and she couldn’t even see where it had gone. She fired again and missed.

“Ye need to kill that bloody heathen before it gets smart and starts goin’ offroad where we can’t follow!”

“I can’t! The road’s too uneven and we’re going too fast! No stable platform!” The hilt of the saber on her hip was digging into her gut, so she adjusted it before leaned out of the window again. And then an idea hit her. She tossed the rifle back into the cab and pulled the blade from its scabbard in one fluid motion. She held it aloft, slicing the air.

"Drive me closer! I want to hit it with my sword!" she exclaimed, banging the pommel on the roof.

“Chris, are you nuts? This is dangerous enough already!” shouted Dave.

“Don't be a milksop, boy!” Adam scolded, flooring the gas pedal to comply with Chris’s desire.

“I'm probably never going to get a chance to do this ever again! It's now or never!” she shouted, leaning out the window even further, forcing Dave to brace himself against her chair and grip her other arm with white knuckles to keep her from falling out.

The engine roared as he pulled alongside the beast. It barely had a moment to look over its shoulder and notice what was happening before it was far too late.

“RULE BRITANNIA!” Chris bellowed, bringing the blade down on the werewolf’s neck. It cleaved through the flesh and bone like butter, something she wasn't expecting. The force she had applied would have caused her to fall out of the window had Dave not been there to yank her back into the cab.
Adam immediately slammed on the brakes, giving his passengers a minor case of whiplash and fishtailing the vehicle.

“Holy fuck!” Chris exclaimed, breathing heavily.

“Are the two of ye alright?” inquired Adam.

“Never fucking better!” she responded, a bloodthirsty grin plastered on her face.

“Let's confirm it,” said Adam, putting the truck in park and stepping out. “Lad, stay in here. Lass, come with me.”

They affirmed with him, and Chris grabbed the Webley before getting out and following Adam. They jogged over to the carcass, to have a look. It was still twitching.

“Death throes, most likely. But as we saw, ye cant be too sure. Put a couple of rounds into the torso. I'll find the head.”

Chris went and stood beside the body, nudging it with her foot. The wolf-like features were rapidly receding and returning to a more human form. She found it to be utterly surreal, watching the thick, matted fur fall off in clumps, revealing the naked body of a young woman underneath, sans cranium.

Adam returned holding said cranium by the hair, and tossed it next to the corpse. “That was a good chop lass. Clean through the vertebrae, outta a movin’ vehicle. I'm impressed.”

“Thanks… the blade went through a little easier than I was expecting…”

“Cursed flesh is no match for blessed silver. Same operatin’ principle as the bullets.”

“Right…”

“Well, what are ye waitin’ for? Didn't hear no gunshots from ye.”
Chris kept looking at the body. “Adam… what we're doing… this isn't murder, is it?”

He shook his head solemnly. “No, lass, it aren't. I see what ye might be thinking, but in truth, you aren't killing a person. These people died long ago. Yer just puttin’ their bodies and spirits to rest, to await judgement.”

She mulled that over for a minute or two. “Okay. Thanks.” She raised the Webley a little bit and put a round into the corpse’s chest, and one through the head.

“Good job. I'll get the petrol.”

Three down. One to go.

Adam was driving now, hauling ass down the highway to the home address of the final werewolf in town. He slowed sharply and turned off onto a smaller road heading through a thickly wooded area. The woods gave way to what appeared to be a modest neighborhood with homes under construction. Adam slowed down further and started paying attention to the street signs.

“There,” he said, pointing suddenly, “right there, end o’ this street. Half of this neighborhood hasn't even been built yet. Should have no worries aboot interlopers.”

As they turned a final bend, Adam suddenly gunned the engine, barrelling down the road, and skidding to a screeching halt right in front of one of the few finished houses. The trio piled out, weapons at the ready.

“David, go around and take the back! Christine, windows on the right side! I'm kicking the bloody front door down!”

They were all halfway across the lawn when they heard the sound of glass breaking, followed immediately by gunfire. They scrambled back to the street and hunkered down in a drainage ditch out front.

All three started returning fire in the vague direction that it was coming from, but a breech-loader, a bolt action and an old revolver sitting in a ditch were never going to be as effective at suppressing fire as a hidden shooter with a semi-automatic.

Adam started to laugh out of the blue.

“What’s so funny?” Dave demanded, flinching as a bullets cracked mere inches over his head.

“Ah, this is just bringin’ back some good memories, is all.”

“How could you possibly have good memories of a situation like this?”

“Reminds me of me time with the Provos. Even now, I’ve got a comrade on me left, and a comrade on me right, except now I’m not the one holdin’ the little Armalite! Ha ha!”

Chris groaned, and Dave quickly looked over. “Honey, what’s wrong, are you hit?”

“No, I just can’t fucking believe he managed to set that joke up.”

“Oi, eyes and ears, lads! Be ready to go over the top!”

“We’ll be cut down!”

“Not if he’s out of bullets, I’m counting-- GO GO GO! GO NOW! UP AND AT ‘EM!” They all scrambled to their feet and made a mad dash to the side of the house, breaking line of sight with the werewolf.

They pressed against the brick wall and listened. They heard a distinct *click* as the werewolf slammed another magazine into its weapon, and they heard the sound of plodding feet as it retreated into some inner room.

“Okay,” said Dave, catching his breath and peeking around the corner, “he’s entrenched in here for sure. No matter how we approach this, he’s probably going to have the drop on us… how do we play this?” He turned to look at Adam and nearly recoiled when he saw the massive grin on the priest’s face.

“I’ve got just the thing for this exact situation!” he exclaimed, giggling. “Oh, good Lord above, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten to do this!”

“Do what?” asked Dave and Chris in unison.

“You’ll see! Cover me, I’ve got to get back to the truck to get me bag!” They complied and got into a position to watch the window, and Adam sprinted down to the street. He ducked into the truck for a few moments, then came sprinting back up to them, holding a black knapsack.
He was still giggling to himself, as he opened it up to show his compatriots the contents. “Have a look at these lovelies, will ye?”

Dave peered inside....

"What the utter fuck, man!" Dave exclaimed, jumping back. "Are those fucking pipe bombs?"

"Noooo, they're time capsules, for preservin' our place in history for the next generation. Of course they're fookin' pipe bombs, ye daft git!" He tossed one to Dave. "Catch!"

"JESUS FUCK!" he screamed in absolute terror (and in a higher pitch than he would have liked to project) as he tossed it back.

"Oi!"

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking know, no taking the lord's name in vain! But what the fuck!"

"Don't get yer knickers twisted. They're perfectly safe unless you light 'em on fire. Or drop them more than ten feet. Or pierce the casing with any sufficient force."

"Are you trying to make me feel safer or fear for my life even more? Where did you even learn to make these?"

The grin dropped off of Adam’s face and was replaced with an utterly dumbfounded expression. “Are ye feckin’ thick?”

“Right, stupid question. Sorry.”

“Now's not a time for questions, anyway. Now's a time for a werewolf prick to be shredded by a couple of pounds of homecooked PETN and silver tacks. Just like me mam used to do."

Adam smashed the window in with one end of the pipe bomb and shouted “Up the ‘ra, cunt!”, then lit the fuse. The shower of sparks that resulted traced the arc of the bomb as it clattered away into the interior of the house. Everyone ducked and covered.

The explosion came as a surprise, even to Adam. It seemed that every pane of glass in the home shattered simultaneously, showering them with the razor sharp pieces. Down the road, a car alarm started to sound.
He finally looked up after the dust had a chance to settle. "Everyone alright?"

"WHAT?" came the response from the other two.

"Fookin' hell. I must have packed those pipes with a wee bit too much stuff."

"You don't fucking say?” said Dave, rubbing his temples. “My head... Jesus Christ, the ringing..."

"Oi!"

"Fuck off!"

Adam grumbled and unslung Lilly from his back, and loaded a silver bullet. "I'm headin' inside to confirm me kill. If I aren't out of there in under five minutes, toss another one of those explosive buggers in and head to the next werewolf's house." He cleared some of the glass away from the window pane and hopped inside without another word. Dave and Chris waited beneath the sill, counting the seconds.

Three minutes passed until they heard heavy footfalls, and they readied their weapons just in case. However, they were relieved to see Adam's head peering out from the window.

"Well, is he sufficiently dead?"

"Mhm. Very sufficiently. Poor bastard's torn in half. Said a prayer for his soul. Aren't much more I can do for 'em. 'Cept burn his house down. It's only fair, don't ye think? Turnabout bein' fair play and all, eh?"

"Yeah, I suppose.”

Adam turned to Chris. "Oi, lass, check me truck, in the glovebox. I've got a bottle I keep in there for special occasions. Now's one of 'em."

She went and brought back a bottle of lukewarm Irish whiskey, which Adam immediately and enthusiastically popped the cap on. He took a swig, swallowed it and let out a satisfied "Aaahh..."

He passed it to Dave, who took a sniff of the liquid, scrunched up his nose, and had a sip anyway. "Damn... that burns..."

"It's not for everyone, boyo. But as I said, it's a special occasion. Yer first successful werewolf hunt." The bottle was offered to Chris, who had a long gulp. "Easy, lass. We need some of that stuff left in the bottle so I can set it on fire. Won't help us much if it's all ending up in yer gullet."

"Screw you, man."

"Aye, perhaps if I weren't a priest," he said with a shiteating smirk.

He laughed as she gave him her middle finger. He reached into his back pocket for a handkerchief, which was promptly stuffed into the neck of the bottle, and set alight. The bottle was then tossed through the broken window into the living room, where the shag carpeting inside immediately caught fire. It wasn't long before it spread into the other rooms.

"Perhaps this'll give ye a little preview of what hell's like before ye get there, ye heathen werewolf bastard. Cheers, cunt."

They headed back to the truck and drove off as the sirens of emergency vehicles drew closer.

Morning was breaking as they reached grounds of Adam's former church again, with Dave and Chris's car still parked in front of the ruins. Yellow crime scene tape now lined the perimeter, marking the presence and passing of the fire marshall and the forensics team.

They all sat idly in the truck for a while, watching the faint light on the horizon grow brighter by degrees, with nobody seeming to really be sure of what to do next. Eventually, Adam stepped out of the car and walked into the ashes, still wearing his charred Tommy uniform. The early morning twilight just barely illuminated the outline of the ruins of his home, and he stood there in silence. As Dave was busying himself with carefully cutting the duct tape away from Cyka’s neck with his pocket knife, Chris stepped out of the car and walked over to Adam’s side, hands in her pockets.

“You alright?”

“Aye, lass. I'm fine.”

There was a period of quiet, with them both staring at an object at their feet, the large bell that had sat atop the steeple only yesterday.

“This was me home for more than a few years… I'll have to find a new one, now…”

“Sorry we couldn't do more…”

“Heh, don't trouble yerself about it, lass. Ye and yer ‘partner’, the pair of ye did quite a lot for me tonight.” His gaze drifted back to the bell. “Ya know, despite this town bein’ a den of sin, corruption and depravity… I like it, in me own way… it's a shame to have to leave…”

“Why do you have to leave it? You mentioned rebuilding the church, earlier.”

“It'll have to be somewhere else, far away from here. If those hooligans managed to track me here, no doubt more will follow. I've got to find a new safe place to lay me head.”

“Maybe we could help you with that.”

“No, no. I'll be just fine on me own. I've got a few… let's call them, ‘connections’. The two of ye have done more than enough, and I'm thankful for it.”

The wistful silence returned for a few moments, before Adam interrupted it again. “Oh, right, about yer payment. I did promise you-”

“Wait. You’ll probably need that money to help you along, wherever you’re going. If it’s alright, though… would you mind if I kept the sword?”

“It’s a cavalry saber, lass. But aye, ye can keep it. Consider that yer payment, if ye like.”

“Sure thing. Thanks,” she said with a grin.

“Good luck, to you and yer partner. Perhaps we’ll work together again in the future.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Maybe we will.”
She returned to the car with Dave, who had finally finished freeing his dog’s neck from the duct tape. She caught him up on the little chat she’d just had.

“Okay,” he said, “We’re done here then? He’s going to be alright out here?”

“He says so.”

“Good. Then I think it’s time we head home.”

“Alright. Heh. These little adventures never seem to last as long as they should.”

“Speak for yourself,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly. “I’ve had enough excitement for a good long while. Let’s head out.”

Dave started the car, and they were underway.
A while later…

Adam had his truck parked up at a rest stop alongside the freeway. He was sitting in the cab with the seat adjusted all the way back, having a nap, when his phone started to beep.

He cursed under his breath in Gaelic and reached into his pocket for it, not bothering to look at the caller ID as he put it to his ear and answered it.

“Who in the feck is this and why in the feck are ye callin’ me?”

“Is that any way to greet your boss, Zulu?”

“For feck’s sake…” His back stiffened up at the sound of the voice on the other end, and he sat up. “Morrigan?”

“Who else would call you on a secure line?”

“Ahh… ye got me there. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I’m calling for two reasons. One, to check in on you. I’m seeing reports of a string of violent murders that happened in your town last night. Your handiwork?”

“Partially. I did some of it, and some of it can be attributed to those two greenhorns ye recommended to me.”

“Is the situation handled?”
“Ye, it’s fookin’ handled.”

“Good. That brings me to the second reason.”

“Askin’ after the greenies?”

“Yes. How did they perform?”

“Well enough, I suppose. Bloody amateurs, the two of ‘em. But they learn quick and they seem resilient. Ye know, it would have been nice to have gotten some actual support to cover me arse on this. Ya couldn’t’ve sent Papa Bear or something?”

“Papa Bear is currently… engaged with his own assignment. As was everyone else. There was nobody to send. Besides, you’re obviously still alive, so the ones I recommended seemed to have been competent enough in keeping you alive.”

Adam grumbled under his breath. Morrigan pretended not to hear. “Back to the subject of the ‘amateurs’. Do you think they’d be an asset, or a liability?”

“They definitely need more experience. But I suppose I see a lot of potential in ‘em. So, I’d say they’d be assets.”

“Good. Good. Alright. I want you to compile your report and establish a secure connection for a full debrief by 1800 hours. Keep a low profile, understood?”

“Low profile is me middle name, lass.”

“Mhm. Riiiight. Morrigan out.”

The dial tone came up, and Adam tossed the phone into the backseat. He kicked his feet up on the dashboard and resumed his nap.