already starting to heal, but at
a much slower rate thanks to my venom. Wiping his blood from my
lips, I
turned my attention to my backup.
Smirking, I snapped my fingers and pointed to the sidewalk next to me. “Toby, heel." The massive Werewolf rose up in front of me and snarled. He apparently didn't find it as amusing as I did. Werewolves, with the exception of the ancient ones, couldn't speak in wolf form. Laughing, I lifted my hands and patted the air. I was just happy to see him. Toby was nearly eight feet tall when standing on his hind legs but Werewolf physiology usually demanded they hunch. His muzzle was more slender than some of the other wolves I had encountered, but no less threatening. His coat was shades of dark gray and white making him resemble an arctic timber wolf. His long, thick tail was solid gray except for the white tip. I always thought it looked like someone took Toby's tail and dipped it in a can of paint. His yellow eyes began to dull. The change was coming. Werewolves, unlike their silver screen brethren, didn't require the moon phases to transform. The moon still held sway over them, but it was only during a Werewolf's infancy that it involuntarily forced the change.
I looked down at Vlad. He was stirring slightly, but my venom seemed to be working. I had bought enough time to at least get him into a cell ... I hoped. I had the feeling that if I picked him up and slung him over my shoulder, he would wake up and take advantage of my vulnerable position. I was fast and strong, but I wasn't stupid.
I leveled my gaze on Toby. It would be some time before he was able to revert to human form. Might as well take advantage of his strength and power. Stepping over Vlad, I reached up and scratched Toby behind the ear. “Thanks, T,” I said as he grunted in approval. I pointed down at the Master Vampire. “Could you carry him back to the office for me?" Chapter The inner workings of the Brimstone Syndicate are a mystery to humans. Most are unaware that such a place even exists. They go about their happy little lives not realizing that the person in the next cubicle is actually a Werewolf, or that their neighbor is a card-carrying member of the Undead. For humanity, ignorance is bliss, and Brimstone is the force which keeps that ignorance intact. We keep Demon attacks off the nightly news, and use disinformation to cover up an Inhuman's handiwork. Remember hearing about that lion that escaped from the zoo and killed two teenagers last year? That was actually a rogue Werewolf. Seekers cleaned up the mess, and found the Werewolf. Unfortunately the wolf had no intention of being captured leaving us with no choice but to destroy it. We quickly formulated a cover story and stole a lion from the local zoo. It became our four-legged patsy. We had spun the press in such a way to paint a zookeeper as accidentally leaving the lion's cage open after a routine feeding. It had been easy to find someone on the zoo's staff with a troubled past as humans are invariably weak, and even easier to pin the mistake on him. The zookeeper lost his job, and an innocent lion had been euthanised to cement the cover up, but the public bought it. No mention of a Werewolf was ever made. The public remained blissfully ignorant. This is my job. Equal parts hunter, killer, and public relations agent, I am a Brimstone Seeker.
turned my attention to my backup.
Smirking, I snapped my fingers and pointed to the sidewalk next to me. “Toby, heel." The massive Werewolf rose up in front of me and snarled. He apparently didn't find it as amusing as I did. Werewolves, with the exception of the ancient ones, couldn't speak in wolf form. Laughing, I lifted my hands and patted the air. I was just happy to see him. Toby was nearly eight feet tall when standing on his hind legs but Werewolf physiology usually demanded they hunch. His muzzle was more slender than some of the other wolves I had encountered, but no less threatening. His coat was shades of dark gray and white making him resemble an arctic timber wolf. His long, thick tail was solid gray except for the white tip. I always thought it looked like someone took Toby's tail and dipped it in a can of paint. His yellow eyes began to dull. The change was coming. Werewolves, unlike their silver screen brethren, didn't require the moon phases to transform. The moon still held sway over them, but it was only during a Werewolf's infancy that it involuntarily forced the change.
I looked down at Vlad. He was stirring slightly, but my venom seemed to be working. I had bought enough time to at least get him into a cell ... I hoped. I had the feeling that if I picked him up and slung him over my shoulder, he would wake up and take advantage of my vulnerable position. I was fast and strong, but I wasn't stupid.
I leveled my gaze on Toby. It would be some time before he was able to revert to human form. Might as well take advantage of his strength and power. Stepping over Vlad, I reached up and scratched Toby behind the ear. “Thanks, T,” I said as he grunted in approval. I pointed down at the Master Vampire. “Could you carry him back to the office for me?" Chapter The inner workings of the Brimstone Syndicate are a mystery to humans. Most are unaware that such a place even exists. They go about their happy little lives not realizing that the person in the next cubicle is actually a Werewolf, or that their neighbor is a card-carrying member of the Undead. For humanity, ignorance is bliss, and Brimstone is the force which keeps that ignorance intact. We keep Demon attacks off the nightly news, and use disinformation to cover up an Inhuman's handiwork. Remember hearing about that lion that escaped from the zoo and killed two teenagers last year? That was actually a rogue Werewolf. Seekers cleaned up the mess, and found the Werewolf. Unfortunately the wolf had no intention of being captured leaving us with no choice but to destroy it. We quickly formulated a cover story and stole a lion from the local zoo. It became our four-legged patsy. We had spun the press in such a way to paint a zookeeper as accidentally leaving the lion's cage open after a routine feeding. It had been easy to find someone on the zoo's staff with a troubled past as humans are invariably weak, and even easier to pin the mistake on him. The zookeeper lost his job, and an innocent lion had been euthanised to cement the cover up, but the public bought it. No mention of a Werewolf was ever made. The public remained blissfully ignorant. This is my job. Equal parts hunter, killer, and public relations agent, I am a Brimstone Seeker.