Werewolf

Kelly Heimdale

Another town, another mess to fix. As another is city left in my dust, more questions go
unanswered, and an old life faded further away. Now I hunt the thing that made me into what I
am and took everything, everyone, I once had.
Gray clouds blocked most of the bright blue skies, threatening rain, bringing along gusts
of strong, chilly winds in the late summer. Cruising down the old highway twenty miles over the
speed limit, I never questioned the sharp rises and falls in the asphalt that often made my wheels
leave the ground.
Red and blue lights flashing in the left side mirror of my motorcycle’s handlebars pulled
me out of my thoughts too quickly. An all-black police SUV tailed me. No need to upset the
locals or call attention to my self-appointed mission, so I pulled over.
Looking around, there was no sign of civilization. Same as the last two and a half hours.
Only a long stretch of road surrounded by trees and cattle fields, the occasional crossroad or
driveway popping out now and again. Turning my engine off, I peeled out of my helmet—black
and metallic dark gray sporting a glittery violet wolf on either side—and set it on the gas tank. I
fished for my registration, insurance, and wallet from the backpack strapped down behind me.
My jeans fit too snug to allow a wallet that thick in any pocket.
A sheriff, not city police.
A female deputy approached, wearing a black-on-blue uniform and a matching ball cap
with a six point badge embroidered on the forehead. Her tanned skin was a shade or so darker
than mine. My hair was blacker than hers, but her neat ponytail was quite a bit longer than my
chin length curly bob. The deputy looked like a white girl, but I had to wonder if she had some
American Indian in her blood. Her name plate read, McCanri. She had my height but I’m more
slender, probably due to her regular police workouts.

1
 “Nice hog you have there,” she said. “Honestly wouldn’t expect a woman on something
that big.”
I patted the handlebars of my Indian Chief. “She didn’t mean it, baby.” I looked at the
deputy. “It’s a cruiser, not a hog. Dad bought her new in nineteen-eighty, but she’s been wrecked
and rebuilt a couple of times since. I gave her the two seater and the saddle bags.”
“Definitely an eye catcher. Love the cherry red and flat black. No chrome?”
I shrugged. “My idea, too. She was blue and chrome. You into bikes?” The answer to my
question had already been given when she called my cruiser a hog, though hopefully I could
draw her away from the insane ticket I was about to receive.
“They’re pretty. I just like to look, is all. Do you know why I pulled you over, ma’am?”
Polite, with a calming yet firm authoritative demeanor. I liked her. I took a quiet whiff,
detecting the unscented soaps she’d recently used, and the negligible gathering of sweat. Curious
as to why the lack of smell-goods, I also noted the distinctly potent aura of energy around her.
“I might have been speeding,” I said, cringing. “Sorry.”
“You also ran that stop sign right in front of me two miles back.”
I looked down the hill behind me, not that I could see over the two or three hills between
me and the stop sign.
“Sorry about that,” I said, not even sure I meant it.
“License, registration, and insurance, if you would.”
I handed them over and waited. Deputy McCanri returned to her SUV. I could see her
poking on what I assumed was a customary police laptop all cruisers have nowadays, then
looking down to her lap, likely writing my ticket. She came back sooner than I expected.
“Your DMV record is clean, Ms. Valente,” Deputy McCanri told me, handing my papers
back, “and you’re not giving me attitude. So I’m cutting you a break. I won’t ticket you for
speeding, but I’ve got to give you one for running the stop sign.” She handed me a ticket book to
sign, then tore off the pink slip when I gave it back. “Just drive safe, okay? The hillbillies around
here don’t seem to think stop signs even exist.”
“Got’cha,” I said with a nod, taking the ticket. “Thanks.”
She started to leave then turned back. “Can I ask you something, girl to girl?”
An odd question to say the least, but no harm in it, I supposed. “Shoot.” I shrugged.
“According to your license, you’re thirty-five. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.

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How the hell do you do it?”
An awkward chortle seeped out of me. I couldn’t very well tell her I’m a werewolf.
Although, she might make a good werewolf herself, assuming the wolf virus would even take.
Female immune systems are funny that way.
“Clean living, power shakes, workout, and I eat a ton of beef,” I said plainly.
She gave me an odd, questioning glance. “Beef? Seriously?”
Again, I shrugged, adding a quick bob of the head. “Yeah. The doctor says I’ve got high
metabolism and a chemical imbalance or something. Eating the extra meat proteins keep me
from having to take the meds.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard that one before. By the way, it’s getting late and there’s a storm
moving in. You might want to get a room at the motel just up the road. The next town is three
hours up the highway.”
“What town is this, anyway?” I wondered aloud more than asked.
“A little blip on the map called Shelton. Four thousand people smack dab in the middle of
nowhere. And if you’re looking for something to do, there’s a bar across the road from the motel,
but you’ll probably miss the last showing at the theater. It’s a little two screen job.”
My turn to give her a questioning glare. “That it?”
She laughed, walking back to her cruiser. “Downtown rolled up at six. That’s it.
Welcome to Shelton.”
* * *
Deputy McCanri wasn’t kidding. Shelton was a tiny place. Three main streets crossed by
the backroad highway, complete with three stoplights. The town was comprised of brick
buildings and storefronts, nothing over two stories, likely built at the turn of the twentieth
century. Just before the last stoplight was the only three story building with the words “Town
Hall” chisled above the front doors in aged marble. Taking up all four corners of the final stop
light were a gas station, a nameless motel, a bar, and a mechanic shop. Sparsely housed
neighborhoods surrounded the entire area, and I doubted the existence of more than a single
school building in a place this small. How could four thousand people subsist here, let alone find
jobs? Commuting and farming, I imagined.
I rented the last room on the end by the road, and the owner of the L shaped motel was
kind enough to let me park my bike under the wrap-around awning on the building length porch.

3
Dropping my things off in the room, I stared through the window at the sign across the street.
Donnie’s Bar and Grill glowed in bright blue and orange letters above a building with a
big, covered patio dining area.
The clouds had overtaken almost the entire sky. A small snippet of moon and evening
blue sky peeked through.
“He’s not out yet,” I told myself, checking my watch. “Might as well eat first.”
I walked across the road, not surprised to find streets nearly empty whereas the bar
parking lot was almost full. Built of wood inside and out, it had a real cowboy style, complete
with bull horns over the outside of the front door. I could hear the crack of pool balls and the
clamor of voices. Before I made it across the lot, the smell of steak, sweat and grime, and alcohol
permeated my senses.
The instant I walked through the swinging glass doors, I caught a powerful scent that
halted my forward momentum instantly. One. Two…. Seven? No. Eleven.
Eleven werewolves. All male.
My heart started slamming, perspiration beaded, and my nerves shook. Where were they
in the sea of faces crowding the place? Three at the pool table sharing a game. Five in the back
corner taking up the big round table. One serving customers. Where were the other two?
Wearing scuffed biker boots, blue jeans, a faded leather jacket, and a black t-shirt that
says I BITE across my chest, I look like just another biker blowing through town. The regular
people ignored me. The wolves watched intently.
“Hey there!” A petite, chipper blonde in black hot pants and a tight pink t-shirt that had
the bar’s logo across the chest approached. “Booth or table?”
I hadn’t realized that I was standing at a podium beside a sign that said, Please wait to be
seated. I wished to hell I knew this was someone’s territory. Usually packs the like suburbs near
big cities where they can easily blend in with the rest of the crazies. No backing out now. Too
many people watching.
“Booth,” I said, forcing a grin.
Lo and behold, the wolf waiter came to take my order. I kept my eyes low, swallowing
my emotions way down. He was too tall, lean with a stern yet kind face, a dark blonde buzzed
haircut, amber eyes, and untrimmed stubble. While he appeared every ounce a retired soldier, the
nametag on his red bar shirt said: Don, Owner. The wolf within him was buried deep, but I could

4
feel the subtle ebb of his aura beating against my core.
He was the goddamned alpha.
All I wanted to do was cower and run like a sniveling cur. I’m considered a mutt, a rogue
werewolf without a pack, and I’d entered his territory unannounced. He had full right to kill me,
send me on my way, or do whatever else came to mind, even make me his slave if he so wished.
“You look tense,” he said politely. His demeanor made my insides pause. “You’ll eat
better on a calm mind. What can I get you?”
I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Two double cheese burgers with everything,
large fries, and water.”
His smile was even more calming, and equally upsetting. “How about a drink? On the
house.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” I stammered.
He held up a hand to stop me. “You look like a White Russian kind of girl.”
Not my first choice, but I don’t mind it. I nodded.
He finished, “Good. Coming right up.”
I sat in silence, watching my fingers drum on the table while I waited for my food. When
it arrived, I stared at my plate and ate quietly, wishing I had the courage to watch the baseball
game on the big screen in the far corner.
Don announced an approaching tornado and closed down early to many protests. As the
public walked out, I continued to wait right where I was and slowly munch on leftover cold fries
I had left over. I didn’t even realize I’d gone through two White Russians. When the place was
locked down and curtains drawn, the wolf pack across the room never stopped their pool games.
The last two came out of the kitchen to join the others.
Don finally came over, taking the booth seat opposite me.
“Look at me,” he said politely.
I’m as common a werewolf as they come, the ninety percent. We’re sort of like the
Wolfman from the old movies. To be an alpha, you’ve got to somehow pass beyond that and
unleash the “Beast”, a feat few can manage. Seven, maybe eight feet tall, bound in muscle and
fur, with a wolf’s head and even a stupid tail. The Beast is more than powerful and takes four or
five centuries at the very least to attain. Of course, then there’s the rumors, whispers really, that a
rare few elders can unleash the “true wolf”. Whatever the hell that means.

5
 Point is, there was no way I was going to look him in the eyes.
“Look at me,” he said with barely any force in his voice at all. Still so polite.
His power hit me like a rock to the gut. I lurched forward, air rushing out of my lungs,
head snapping up. I swallowed.
“Relax, and tell me your name.”
“Arora Valente,” I said quickly, sitting up straight and brushing hair out of my face,
trying like hell to stop shaking.
He sniffed the air slowly, taking me in, gaze still focused.
“Can’t say I’ve heard of a female mutt before. And you’re young, no more than a few
short years. Dangerous isn’t it?”
“Very. I’m tracking a vampire,” I spat before he could ask anything else.
A quizzical expression crossed his features. “Tell me.”
I took a long breath, concentrating on my task to calm my nerves.
“He’s old, powerful, and looks like he’s half way between a kindred and a nosferatu. Ten
years ago he and a mutt companion attacked me in my apartment. Then turned me. I got lucky
and killed the mutt when he bit me.” The surge of anger at the memory helped cool my unease
considerably. “Used to have real silverware. I can’t say why, but that vampire is up to no good.
Call it instinct, I guess. He causes trouble wherever he goes, and I end up cleaning the mess. I’ve
been tracking him since it happened. He’s here, and I’ve finally caught up to him before he starts
making a mess of things.”
Well, that came out fast and easy. Maybe it was the alpha doing it to me, but I wasn’t
sure. I usually actively avoid packs.
Don looked past me at his troop. His expression was not pleased. Shoulders rolled and
hands stretched, the alpha leaned forward on his elbows, staring at me too intently.
“You’re telling the truth. I take it you’ve reported this before.”
“I tried telling everyone. Other packs. All three vampire councils. Even some of the
human hunters. No one believes a mutt. Or they don’t care. Most have tried to kill me. It’s why
I’m on my own.”
He nodded.
“What’s he look like? Have a name? And are you sure he’s here?”
“Positive. My wolf can feel it. He’s tall, wispy thin, skin like ebony, and no hair, not even

6
eyebrows. Has a really heavy accent. I don’t know where from. Looks kindred, but has a mouth
full of fangs and a permanently scowled brow like a nosferatu. I think his name is Dekar.”
“Did she just say Dekar?” Another wolf asked from across the room. I didn’t look, but he
sounded gruff and concerned.
Don held his hand in the air. “You’re sure?”
I considered my answer very carefully. “Yes.”
“Dekar is more than ancient. Rumor has it, the first vampire turned him. The only way a
pup like you could even know the name is if he told you himself. But he’s been dead since I was
your age. The name is forbidden in the vampire world.”
“If it makes a difference, he’s got a nasty scar around his neck except for a clean sliver on
the left side.” I motioned to the spot with my thumb.
“Then the knight’s blade didn’t sever his head completely,” the gruff wolf said. “Trying
to cut off the head is the only way a vamp will scar.”
He stepped into my field of view. Average height, peppered hair with a few lines around
his face, and a trimmed beard on a strong jaw. He was dressed in cowboy boots, blue jeans with
a big silver buckle, and a long sleeved shirt. He appeared the cowboy pound for pound, but his
aura and power within were far older. Maybe older than his alpha. No doubt at all he was the
Beta, the pack’s second.
“Fen, call it in,” Don said to him. The gruff wolf nodded. “Boys, spread out in pairs.”
Don scanned the others behind me. “Search the town. If it is Dekar, he’s almost fifteen thousand
years old. Closest clot-sucker to the Prince, their first, left alive. You find this thing, you call me
or Fen. Do. Not. Engage. Fen and I are the only ones inside six hundred miles that can kill this
thing. Might just be why he’s here.”
Werewolves age slowly. We never appear more than a very athletic sixty human years,
but we might make a thousand if we’re lucky. Vampires have the only chance at immortality to
be had, and the older they get, the more powerful they are. Which is why only elder wolves can
summon enough strength to kill vamps beyond the thousand year marker.
Fen was already on the phone asking to speak with the Conclave’s enforcer. Funny how
Fen used the wall phone by the kitchen door, not a cell. Older creatures have a habit of not liking
new technology.
The Conclave is the North American werewolf governing body, the oldest pack in this

7
hemisphere who gave themselves a fancy name so everyone would know they were in charge.
As the pack filed out, mostly complaining about having to work in the impending
tornado, I waited still.
“Leroy,” Don stopped the last wolf leaving.
He couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older than when my human life
ended. He was the spitting image of Don except with a baby face. Like Fen, though, Leroy
exuded the cowboy. Complete with the boots, the buckle, a flannel shirt and well-worn Stetson in
hand. Cute, I had to admit.
“Yeah?” Leroy regarded Don so casually, eyeing him directly.
Interesting. Only an Alpha’s second in command, his lover, or another alpha would be so
bold.
“I want you to stick with her. I don’t need you getting hurt.” Don’s order sounded
somewhat concerned.
“Dad! I can stand with you and Fen on this.”
Did he just…? I took a second look at Leroy. His aura and his power within was young
and wild but a hell of a lot stronger than he should have been.
The glare Don gave as he stood face to face with the man had my wolf cowering. Leroy
looked down but his wolf seethed within.
“Son, I don’t care how strong you think you are,” Don told him calmly. “You don’t have
the control it takes. Why do you think your wolf goes wild when he takes over? Why can’t you
change at will? You’re a pup, not much older than her. Now take her to her hotel room and wait
for one of us to call.”
I’d heard of purebloods, born with the Beast ready to go. No needing of centuries and
pursuing greater strength, training, from a certain point of view, to unleash it. In the wolf world,
pureblood doesn’t necessarily mean unbroken generations of born werewolves, merely that both
your parents were. Considering the rarity of females of our kind, Leroy is a rare find.
I wondered what had happened to his mother.
“Yes sir.” Leroy’s shoulders eased and head nodded as he conceded.
“I can track him,” I offered.
Don considered me then shook his head. “Do as you’re told. We’ll handle the vamp.”
“I’ve got control of my wolf.”

8
 Don and Fen both gave me a questioning look.
“A few years back, I ran into a hoodoo woman Dekar nearly killed. She helped me.” It
was half the truth, but all they needed to know.
Fen nodded. “Figures. Then you can watch the boy. Always been an impetuous little
shit.”
Leroy scowled. Fen grinned and chuckled. He was only joking.
“Get out of here,” Don ordered. “Fen, head to the pack house. Make sure he isn’t going to
show up there.”
“Where are you going?” Fen asked.
“To see the Sheriff. If this mutt is right, things will get out of hand. Don’t need civilians
in the line of fire.”
Leroy offered me his hand. Such a gentleman.
Ignoring the hand, I stood and headed for the door, walking backward to face him as I
spoke. “I’m not one of these country girls you can woo into bed with that pretty smile of yours.
And you sure as hell can’t hypnotize me.”
“I’ve never had to hypnotize anyone,” he said with a shrug, following me. So defensive.
I turned and pushed through the doors. Then again, I am a sucker for a cowboy. My biker
chick thing is only to keep unwanted people away. And to protect me from road rash.
Accelerated healing or not, skidding across the pavement after a crash hurts.
“Yep. Bad idea putting those two together.” Fen said as the doors closed.
* * *
Fresh out of the shower, I pulled on some clean clothes, wondering when the pack was
going to call.
“You going to shower or not?” I asked Leroy. He’d redressed already. “Or is leaving my
smell on you some kind of male macho thing?”
“A little,” he admitted. “Marking my territory.”
“Your territory? You know, we only did that because I was bored and I haven’t been laid
in weeks. When Dekar is gone, so am I.”
He lounged back in the office recliner by the big front window with a confident smile.
Arora. A whisper carried through the room from nowhere at all, the sound so low it might
not be called a sound at all. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

9
 A rap-tap on my hotel room door startled my wolf so bad I snapped toward the entry and
growled. Leroy was on his feet in an instant, and still snarling.
Damn he was fast.
“I didn’t hear anyone walk up,” he told me. His voice was deep and rumbling, the wolf
too close to the surface.
“Neither did I.”
A werewolf can hear a mouse scurrying across a lively house, and we could sure as hell
smell it. Yet, two of us didn’t pick up on anything approaching.
Rap-tap again, like a long fingernail on the heavy wood.
Arora.
Leroy had the door open in a flat second. No one.
Dekar. My wolf practically screamed the name.
I pushed past him and charged into the parking lot, my heartbeat picking up. No sign of
him. Dark skies and lightning flashing in the distance. Wind gusted and a dry sort of moisture
settled in the air. The tornado must be close.
I’ve been waiting for you, Arora.
Lightning flashed above us. Bright white lit the parking lot. A tall shadow stood in the
intersection. A glint of red orbs. When the light was gone, so was the figure. A laugh cut the air
as the thunder boomed, rattling windows all around.
No more fear to be found. My wolf writhed within, tearing, clawing at my skin and
bones. She was angrier than I. If I had any ability to change outside of the full moon, she would
have taken over completely.
“Dekar’s here!” I heard Leroy shout over the phone. “At the motel. Shit! She’s going
after him.”
I hadn’t realized that I’d already started running. I caught a whiff of death and recent
blood. East. Leroy kept the pace only steps behind me, still on the phone. Through a
neighborhood and down an old, unkempt road into an overgrown field. The smell stopped.
“We’re north of the graveyard,” Leroy said behind me, likely still on the phone.
“Patterson’s field.”
A rustle of grass and a grunt at my back. Leroy roared. Someone else howled. I spun, my
pulse pounding in my throat.

10
 A long draw of four bloody lines scared into his chest, his shirt nearly ripped off. The
expression on his face blended anger with pride. He rubbed his fingers together.
Bloody fingers.
“Not as fast as I expected, vampire.”
You’re faster than you should be, pup. Dekar’s voice carried on the wind.
Leroy grinned as his amber eyes began to glow. He spun a slow circle.
“I’m a pureblood, vampire!”
A mutt and an impetuous boy. He laughed. This should be fun.
I barely heard the whoosh an instant before thunder struck me across the face.
Weightlessness carried me. Thunder struck me again before I hit the ground. What could well
have been a tree stopped my flight.
A snarl and tumble at a short distance.
One howl, long and sweet, parted the clouds. Three answered its call.
I rolled onto hands and knees with a throbbing skull. Blurry vision caught Leroy in
Dekar’s embrace. Blood covered the ebony vampire’s hands and mouth as he choked a thrashing
Leroy from behind.
“You’re strong, boy,” Dekar hissed. He sounded amused. “Not strong enough. You’ll be
dead before they get here.”
I lunged into them hard as I could and latched on to Dekar’s arm with both hands and
some teeth. When the vampire tried to throw me, Leroy spun in his grip, grabbing him by the
throat. Suddenly, the vampire was hurling through the air, an inhuman shriek splitting the night.
I still had his arm.
Leroy lifted his bloodied face into the air, a gnarly chunk of flesh taken out of his neck.
His human form let forth a very wolfish howl into the night.
An arm is but an arm, and I’ll grow a new. I’ve done what I came here to do. Let the
dead speak for me, and I may see you again, little girl.
I held up Dekar’s arm. “I’ll take you piece by piece, if I have to! I’ll find you wherever
you go, you son of a bitch!”
The crash of foliage and grass came out of nowhere as two full Beast werewolves tore by
us from behind, two other wolves hot on their trail.
Leroy and I looked at each other for a long moment. I dropped the arm and spat the bitter

11
dead man’s blood out of my mouth. If I’d gone for Dekar’s head I could have killed him, but he
would have killed Leroy. Was the trade worth it? Only time would tell.
* * *
I looked at my watch. The green digital numbers read, 9:00AM.
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Leroy told me.
I tossed clothes in my backpack, followed by my toiletry kit, and a towel I decided I was
taking from the hotel. What little else I had was already loaded.
“Dekar left two days ago. I’ve got to pick up his trail again. Besides, the full moon is in a
week. I’d rather not be around an all-male pack when I change. Never ends well.”
He paced toward the window while I checked the bathroom for anything I’d forgotten.
“I’ll claim you,” he offered. “It’ll be okay.”
Stopping at the edge of the bed, I let him know how annoying the prospect was with a
look and a hand on my hip.
“And I end up part of the pack when Dekar is still out there? No. I’ve got to stop him.
Your father was gracious enough to let me stay as long as I have.”
“I like you.” The admission was not so secret. “And I know you like me. Our wolves like
each other. I know you can feel it.”
Couldn’t tell if the twist of my heart strings was from me or my wolf. I wouldn’t mind
sticking around for him, but I had no intention of bowing to an alpha just yet.
“We’re both barely more than pups here. You’re an alpha’s prized son, and I’m a mutt
with a death wish chasing an ancient vampire.”
He shrugged. “So, what? Stay.”
His phone rang and he ignored it.
“You’re cute, but…” I sighed and zipped up my bag, listening to his phone continue to
ring. “We only spent two nights together.” A third ring. “You going to get that?”
I picked up my bag and waited for him.
He faced the door to answer his cell. “Yeah? Okay. We’ll be right there.” Dropping his
cell in the left back pocket of his jeans, he turned to me. “Dad wants us at the bar now.”
I rolled my eyes and bit back an annoyed groan. “I knew it! He’s calling in the Law of the
Hunt, isn’t he? Mate with a pack, fight with a pack, save a member’s life. He’s pulling rank and
taking me on, isn’t he?” I growled to let him know my wolf was as annoyed as I at the prospect.

12
“Son of a bitch.”
“No. Something’s wrong. One of the guys found a corpse walking around this morning.”
That caught my attention. Throwing my bag back on the bed, I followed him out the
door, my curiosity getting the better of me. Maybe Dekar had found the time to do something to
this town after all. That or a necromancer was walking the Earth for the first time in a thousand
years and just so happened to wander through tiny little Shelton.
Deputy McCanri sped through the intersection headed north in her department SUV,
lights wailing. By the time we reached the edge of the parking lot, two sheriff’s sedan cruisers
sailed past us, following McCanri.
“Wonder where they’re going,” I said.
Leroy stopped us at the crosswalk. Not a moving car in sight, but a few parked at
businesses down the streets. He sniffed the air. I caught the scent too.
It was faint.
“You smell that?” He asked.
“Yeah. Smells like…”
We looked at each other. I could sense his wolf was as worried as my own.
“Death,” we said in unison.
Another town, another mess to fix.

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