Feedback welcome at: Nickerbits@nni.com; Chaz83@hotmail.com; Dani186@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: All these wonderful guys do not belong to us. They belong to Pet Fly and UPN. 'Bad Moon Rising' belongs to John Fogarty. No money, just lots of fun. Please don't sue. We're all broke.
Rating: PG-13 (Violence, sexual innuendo)
Spoilers: None
Dedication: To Joe, the Animal Control guy. We're sorry, Joe, but it was inevitable.
This story started as a random story idea on the net and ended up as a weekend Sentinel/story writing weekend. We all had a good time. Hope you all enjoy it too. Now, on with the show...
Nickerbits, Chaz and Dani
Don't go 'round tonight,
It's bound to take your life,
There's a bad moon on the rise.
Bad Moon Rising - Creedance Clearwater Revival
She lived for the nights of the full-moon. During those two nights a month, the blood flowed freely as her fangs found one victim after another. Ten or twelve dead in one night was not unusual. The rest of the month was drab and colorless by comparison - her normal existence just could not compete with the glorious carnage of the full moon.
Sighing, she finished ripping the throat out of her latest victim. Dawn was almost here. Her night was almost over. Abandoning the mangled corpse in front of her, she padded off at a choppy lope, hoping to find just one more late night straggler before sunrise forced an end to the festivities.
Blair blanched slightly, turning away from the scene of carnage spread in front of him. A pair of college sweethearts taking a moonlit walk in the park had picked the wrong night for their stroll. The Full-Moon Slasher, as the press had dubbed the killer, had caught the lovers sitting on the grass by the shores of the ocean watching the moonlight play off the ripples in the water. What was left of the pair hardly looked human any more. Their faces were mauled past the point of recognition. The rest of their young bodies were bitten, ripped and clawed to shreds. Blood was spattered everywhere about the shore, and Blair even thought he had recognized a stray bit of flesh or two scattered in the bushes before he turned quickly away.
Jim glanced at the pale features of his partner before turning his entire attention to Simon and the crime scene before him. These were the fourth and fifth victims of this month's rampage that they'd examined so far today. He expected more before the day was through. The Full-Moon Slasher had been stalking Cascade for the past three months, striking on each night of the full moon, leaving an average of ten to twelve mangled corpses behind each time.
To say that Cascade's finest was baffled by the evidence gathered so far would be an understatement. They had found the paw prints, fur and saliva of a large canid, later identified as a wolf, at the crime scenes. The victims had all been bitten and clawed to death by this same wolf. However, equally confusing was the evidence that was not found. There were never any human footprints other than those of the victims nearby. There were never any tire tracks to indicate a vehicle in the area. No sign of the human intelligence that must be controlling the actions of the animal.
Jim turned his attention to an examination of the most recent unfortunate late night wanderers. He quickly catalouged the overall condition of the bodies. The wounds looked remarkably similar to the bites and slashes they had found on the other victims. A momentary whiff of an unfamiliar scent reached his nose, and he honed in his sentinel abilities on it. Kneeling by the dead couple, Jim started to filter out all the other smells filling the air around him. Pinpointing the scent that had caught his attention earlier, Jim found his eye drawn to a silver cross around the neck of the young woman. A fine coating of black ash covered it, and a faint smell of burning flesh lingered.
Pulling an evidence bag out of his pocket, Jim called quietly for his superior officer. "Simon, come here for a minute. There's something I think you should see." He watched as his captain turned and walked quickly to his side.
"What have you found, Jim? I hope it's something that's going to help us crack this case before this maniac kills again."
Holding up the cross, now enclosed in an evidence bag, Jim said, "I'm not sure what it means, Simon, but take a look at this. There's a fine coating of ash on this thing, and can't you smell the burnt flesh in the air?"
"No, Jim, not all of us are direct descendants of Lassie. I don't smell anything beyond the blood," Simon shot back in an exasperated tone.
"Well, it's there," Jim replied. "I think we need forensics to take a look at this and let us know why we would find ashes and the smell of burning flesh on a silver cross found around the neck of a Slasher victim. This could be the break we're looking for."
Blair, overhearing Jim's latest comments, took a deep breath and moved to Jim's side. "Now look guys. Before you brush me off, listen to what I have to say. You're not gonna like this, but everything we've seen so far points toward a werewolf--"
"Now wait just a minute there!" Simon exploded, "You don't seriously expect me to believe that someone is changing themselves into a wolf on the night of the full moon and going around ripping people apart, do you?"
"Uhm, Simon, I didn't seriously mean there was a werewolf, but what about someone who thinks they are or wants us to think they are?"
"And just what possible purpose would there be for this?"
"Simon," Jim broke in quietly, "Since when do psychopaths, especially in Cascade, need a rational reason for these things?"
Rolling his eyes, Simon looked back at Jim. "If you really think this idea of Sandburg's is worth following up on, I'll leave that to you. Just don't forget, the Mayor will be expecting real live suspects not some supernatural mumbo-jumbo. If you're finished here now, I need to see you at the station, Jim."
Nodding to Simon, Jim and Blair started back toward Jim's truck. "Okay, Chief. You have classes today don't you? I'll drop you off at the University. What time do you want me to pick you up?"
"I'll be done with classes around 4:00, Jim, but there's some research I need to do in the library, so why don't you pick me up around 6:00."
Jim, Rafe, Brown and Taggert were gathered in Simon's office back at the station. Simon paced back and forth behind his desk collecting his thoughts prior to addressing his detectives.
"Okay, look, men. As I'm sure you've heard, we've got a little problem here in Cascade."
"Do you mean besides the Slasher, Captain?" Rafe questioned.
"Yes, Detective. Of course I mean besides the Slasher. And, if you read your updates, you would know what I'm talking about. For the rest of you who haven't been paying attention either, I am speaking about the rash of disappearances amoung Cascade's homeless population. The Mayor and the Commissioner are on my back about this, and you know what that means. You are all going to go out there and find me some answers."
"And just how are we supposed to do this, Sir?" Brown questioned.
"Well, Brown, seeing as how you and Rafe over there are going to take the point on this investigation, I'm glad you brought that up."
Simon paused a moment to let the impact of his words sink in. "Since our homeless are disappearing and are known to be very hesitant to speak with anyone in authority, I think that you and Rafe need to consider a little bit of undercover work."
From his corner, Rafe let out a strangled little noise. "You can't be serious, Captain. Who would ever believe the idea of me being homeless to start with? I really think that we would do better if maybe you got Blair to help you out on this. His wardrobe is already perfect for the part, and his hair looks like it hasn't seen a barber in years."
"Well, then, Rafe, I would suggest that you may want to speak with Blair to see if he will loan you some of his clothes for this assignment. Blair is already helping Jim out on another case. Do I hear any other objections to the delegation of assignments in my command?" Simon barked, glaring at his detectives.
"Now, Jim and Taggert," Simon continued, "I would like you two to speak with your snitches and contacts to see what the word is out the street about this. According to the Mayor's office, they estimate that about 15 to 20 people that we know of have disappeared over the past couple of months. I'm sure there are a lot more we don't know about. Mostly, it's been social workers and people at shelters and soup kitchens who have noticed that their regulars have stopped showing up. No bodies have been found, and we have no idea of what is happening to them. Now get out there, and find me some answers."
Brown, Rafe and Taggert filed quickly out of Simon's office. As Jim started to follow, Simon called him back saying, "Jim, have you got a minute to discuss where you want to go with the Full Moon Slasher case? Other than Blair's werewolf theory..."
"Well, Simon, if this follows the pattern we've seen up to this point, we can expect the killer to strike again tonight. I thought that maybe Blair and I could stake out some of the more obvious areas the killer might target. Maybe we'll get lucky and catch him in the act."
"Are you sure having the kid out with you on this one is a good idea, Jim? It could get messy, not to mention dangerous out there. I'd hate to see anything happen to him - of course, if you mention I said that, I will deny it, and you will find yourself on parking meter duty."
"Don't worry, Simon. I'll look out for him. By the way, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to cancel our poker game this Saturday. I've got a date."
"That's okay, Jim. So do I. You aren't the only one who gets lucky sometimes. So, what's her name, and does she have red hair?"
"You called it, Simon. Am I really that predictable? Her name's Monique Chaney, and she's a tall beautiful red-head with the most brilliant green eyes I've ever seen. How 'bout you, Simon? Who's this temptress who's captured your heart?"
"Rachael Harker. She's about 5 foot 10, with long, dark hair and deep brown eyes. I met her at one of those horrible official functions you know I get roped into all the time. She made it tolerable to be there at least."
"Sounds wonderful, Simon. Maybe we'll have to try a double date sometime. In the meantime, though, I still have some ideas I need to check out on this whole Slasher mess. I'll let you know what I find out."
Looking up from his research, Blair flipped his pen idly around his thumb while considering what he'd discovered. Werewolves were not one of the better documented supernatural beings. Now, if he'd been chasing a vampire, things would have been different. Most of the few articles he'd managed to find were written by one Doctor Charles Lancing, who just happened to be a professor in parapsychology right here at Rainier. Blair resolved that a quick chat with Dr. Lancing might just be in order now.
Checking the schedule, Blair discovered that Parapsychology101 would be letting out in just 10 minutes. If he hurried, Blair should be able to catch Dr. Lancing between classes.
At first sight Charles Lancing reminded Blair of the werewolves he studied so arduously. He was extremely hairy, and something about his face seemed slightly lupine. Stepping forward hesitantly, Blair said, "Doctor Lancing. Blair Sandburg. I'm an anthropology TA here at Rainier. I've read all of your articles regarding lycanthropy, and I'd like to ask you a few questions if I may."
"Certainly, Mr. Sandburg. I'm always happy to discuss my pet project. What can I help you with?"
"Well, hypothetically, if someone were to suspect that they were dealing with a serial killer who either was or thought they were a werewolf, what steps would they take to protect themselves, and to apprehend the murderer?"
"I'm not as clueless as you may think, Mr. Sandburg. This has to do with the police and their investigation into the Full Moon Slasher, doesn't it? What makes you think that there might be a supernatural being involved in this?"
"Well, I can't tell you everything, but the evidence the police have found at the scenes along with the timing of the attacks leads them to believe that they're dealing with someone who thinks he's a werewolf. They thought it might be helpful in that case to know what this psycho would consider dangerous in his delusions."
"If you were actually dealing with such an individual, I would suggest that you carry wolfsbane with you. Display it prominently if you meet up with this individual. If he's really sunk that deeply into his psychosis, he will be repelled by it as a real werewolf would be. To injure or kill this individual, mythology states that you need a silver weapon or bullet. Of course, since this isn't really a werewolf, I don't think you'll need to go that far."
"Thanks, Professor," Blair said as he walked away, running through the list of his acquaintances who could make bullets and wouldn't ask any questions, as well as trying to think up a good excuse to get Jim to stop at the herbalist on the way home.
"You know, it's cold, I'm tired and I don't think this is going to work. Are we really desperate enough that we're reduced to walking the streets at night just hoping that we'll stumble across the mad serial killer? Like that sounds like a really good option either."
Jim rolled his eyes, biting back the retort that sprang to his lips with the latest reiteration of Blair's dissatisfaction with their current assignment.
"Look, Junior. This maniac has killed 57 people that we know about. We're distinctly low on real leads, so unfortunately, we've just go to hope we get lucky tonight. Now, can you please put your hand on my back to help keep me from zoning. I'm gonna reach out with my hearing and see if I can find any sounds of a rabid werewolf having a midnight snack."
Gripping Jim's shoulder with his hand, Blair decided that this would also be a good opportunity to slip a little of that wolfsbane he'd picked up earlier into Jim's coat pocket. He wasn't sure that a lycanthrope was actually involved, but, better safe than sorry.
Listening carefully, Jim's ears faintly detected the wet sound of flesh ripping under the assault of sharp teeth. Without a word to his startled partner, Jim took off at a dead run toward the source of the sound.
"Hey! Wait up a minute! Where are you going? You're not gonna leave me out here all alone with the Full Moon Slasher around, are you?" Blair yelled as he scrambled after the fast retreating form of his friend, pulling his wolfsbane out of his pocket as he ran.
Skidding to a stop, Jim quickly took in the appalling scene spotlighted by the street lamp above. The unfortunate man lying on the ground was obviously dead already. A large wolf, it's fangs dripping red, looked up at the intrusion and pinned Jim with it's gold-eyed stare. Jim found himself unable to look away from the piercing gaze directed at him. His mind seemed fuzzy, and the thought of drawing his gun and shooting at the beast quickly evaporated. The beast, still riveting him with it's stare, took a step or two towards the entranced detective.
The spell was broken as Blair slammed into his back, unable to stop his headlong rush in time. At the appearance of this new intruder, the wolf sniffed the air, and took a reluctant step or two backwards, growling under it's breath.
Shaking his head to clear it, Jim drew his gun and snapped off three quick shots. It was obvious from the way the animal flinched momentarily that at least one of the shots had hit it's target.
Seemingly unfazed, the wolf turned and darted off into the darkness.
"Oh, man! What was that thing? It was huge! Oh. Is that guy dead? That really sucks! Are you sure there isn't anything we can do for him?"
"Nope, sorry, Chief. He's dead. We need to call this in, and let Simon know what's going on. Why don't you go wait over by those benches. Make the call. I don't think you really need to see this."
"I'm down with that, man. Are we going to wait for Simon to give our reports tonight?"
"Yeah, Chief, I think that's best. We need to roll on this as fast as possible, so that all our units out here know what we're looking for, now that we know it is a wolf."
It didn't take long for Simon to appear on the scene. He showed up a few minutes later as Jim was just completing his initial inspection of the murder site.
"What do you have, Jim? I heard something on the police band about it being a wolf? Is that right?"
"Yeah, you heard right, Simon," Blair said, as he walked toward the captain. "It was big, it was ugly, it was ripping that guy apart, and Jim's shots didn't faze it at all. Now, maybe if he'd been using silver bullets--"
"Now hold it right there, Sandburg. I'm not prepared to believe that Cascade is home to a rogue pack of werewolves. I'm sure there's a more rational explanation for all of this."
"I'm afraid I agree with Simon here, Mr. Van Helsing. Why don't we go home and get some sleep. We'll start over fresh in the morning."
"'Lot you know," Blair muttered under his breath, "Van Helsing hunted vampires, not werewolves."
"I heard that, Junior."
"Like that's a surprise..."
"Looking good, guys," Blair commented as Rafe and Brown entered the bullpen the next morning, dressed for their undercover assignment. "I've never seen this look for you before, Rafe, but I really think it suits you."
"Hairboy, if you know what's good for you, you'll shut your mouth right now. We are dressed for a dangerous undercover assignment. What's your excuse?"
"Funny, Rafe, real funny. Maybe you could work on teaching Jim to have a sense of humor once you're done here."
"Rafe, Brown, Simon wants to see you in his office as soon as possible," Rhonda broke in. "I don't think it would be a good idea to keep him waiting."
The two men walked slowly toward their captain's office like convicts heading for the gallows. Entering, they pulled the door shut behind them, and stood awaiting Simon's pleasure.
"Well, I see you two are looking your best today. Are you ready to go meet the world of the homeless?"
"Captain," Rafe whined, "are you sure you need both of us out there? Wouldn't it be better for one of us to stay out of it and act as back up?"
Brown smacked his erstwhile partner on the head. "If I gotta go out there looking like this and smelling bad, you certainly aren't getting out of it, Mr. GQ."
"Thanks for the support, Brown. Why don't we go get this over with. The sooner we start, the sooner we'll be finished, and the sooner I can take a long bath."
"Excuse me, gentlemen, and I use that term loosely," Simon broke in, "but, if you're done complaining, there is still a killer out there."
Muttering, Rafe followed his partner out of the office and on to the Cascade streets.
Later that evening, a man and woman cuddled together in a spacious four poster bed.
"So, Sweetheart," the woman said, gently stroking the man's short hair as she spoke, "are you having any luck catching that horrible Slasher person? I'm afraid to go out at night. I just don't feel safe anymore."
"Well, Honey, we've discovered that it's definitely a wolf doing the killings themselves. We don't know yet who's controlling it, but I'm sure that'll come. Oh, did I tell you about that silly theory that Sandburg has? He thinks, now get this, that it's a werewolf. I swear that kid gets stranger all the time."
"And how about those missing homeless people you were telling me about earlier? Anything happening there?"
"Rafe and Brown have gone undercover amoung the homeless population. I'm sure they'll be able to figure out what's going on pretty quickly. They're good men."
"Enough about these depressing topics, Dear. Let me show you again how much I really love you."
"You know, I really love your place and this big, old bed of yours..."
After a couple weeks of living on the streets, Rafe had had quite enough of this assignment, thank you very much. The two detectives kept running into nothing but brick walls in the course of their investigation. Three more people, that they knew about had vanished, but no one had seen anything, and all of the missing people's belongings were left behind.
Rafe was so involved in his misery, that he almost didn't notice the cloaked, hooded woman gliding silently down the alley. He watched as she stopped and spoke quietly to Burt, a harmless drunk he'd seen around several times before. After a few moments, Burt stumbled to his feet and trailed the woman like an obedient dog as she turned back the way she had come. Standing up quickly, Rafe began to follow the odd pair.
Halfway up the alley, the woman and her shadow turned the corner into a side passage. Following cautiously, Rafe peeked around the corner. He never saw or heard the mysterious woman as she struck him from behind. Leaning over his unconscious body, she whispered softly, "I know who you are, Detective. I don't need the trouble that killing a policeman would cause at this point. That's the only thing that's saved you." So saying, she arose from her crouch and continued to lead Burt away into the night.
Brown looked down toward the small hand tugging on his sleeve. The small face peering back up at him belonged to Molly, a eight year old girl who's entire family had been thrown out on the streets when her father lost his job and they had been evicted from their apartment. Life really wasn't fair, Brown reflected. He got to go home at the end of each day. Molly and family weren't as lucky.
"So, what can I do for you, Little One? Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Brownie, that scary woman, the one I told you I saw before is back. She's down there. I saw her talking to Burt."
"Thank you, Little One. You stay here. I'm gonna go have a look around."
Henry strode purposefully down the alley Molly had pointed toward. Half-way down, he came on a narrow offshoot. He spotted a foot and part of a raggedly clothed leg sticking out from the opening. Hurrying around the corner, he was horrified to spot Rafe, lying unconscious and bleeding in the street.
Falling to his knees beside his unresponsive partner, Brown was relieved to discover that Rafe was still breathing, and had a strong, steady pulse. Pulling out his cell phone, Brown quickly dialed 911.
The next morning, Simon, Brown, Jim and Blair gathered in Rafe's hospital room. The object of their concern slept peacefully in his bed.
"So," Blair queried, "it was just a minor concussion and nothing worse? I know all about those. Don't worry, H, he'll be fine in a day or two."
"What happened out there, Detective?" Simon asked in a commanding voice. "I don't like seeing any of my men hurt."
"I don't know exactly what Rafe saw. He said something last night about seeing a tall woman in a hooded robe lead one of the homeless off. He was hit over the head when he tried to follow, but he never saw who hit him. Molly, one of the little street kids, saw the woman and came and told me about it. I went where she told me she'd seen her, and found Rafe lying on the ground."
"Okay, good report, Brown. Why don't you go home and get some rest. Rafe's going to be okay."
As they left the hospital room, Simon commented to Jim, "You know, the first night of the full moon is coming next week. We really have to figure out some way of stopping this lunatic. Do you have any ideas?"
"Well, Sir, even though we saw a wolf killing that man, we know that there has to be some sort of human intelligence behind all this. If we can find him, we'll find our answers.
"In looking at the maps, it's obvious that one wolf could not have made all of the attacks each night all over the city. I think we may be looking at more than one wolf, and more than one keeper. Of course, this brings up the question of how they're been feeding this pack of wolves between attacks.
"We've checked with the butcher shops and slaughter houses in Cascade, but haven't been able to trace where they're getting their meat from yet."
"Simon," Blair mumbled hesitantly, "I know you're gonna think this is stupid, but have you ever considered the fact that maybe whoever this is is kidnapping the homeless people to feed the wolves?"
Jim rolled his eyes as Simon exclaimed, "Sandburg - do you stay up at night thinking up these wild theories of yours just to drive me nuts?"
"Sorry, I guess that was kind of a long shot anyway."
Early the next evening, as the man and woman lay in the large four poster bed again, he turned to her and said, "Since you've been keeping up on the Slasher killings and the homeless disappearances, I thought you might appreciate this wild theory Sandburg came up with the other day. He actually believes that the homeless people are being murdered to feed the wolves, or werewolf, as the case may be. Have you ever heard of anything so far fetched in your entire life?"
"Don't worry about that right now, Dearest. We have other things to do with the night..."
At 10:00 PM, Joyce called Blair to let him know that the silver bullets he had requested were finished and ready to be delivered. He arranged to meet her on campus in half an hour.
Driving to the campus, Blair fingered his silver Ankh as he contemplated the best way to slip the bullets into Jim's gun. He knew there was no way the big detective would agree to this himself, but Blair knew he would feel better if Jim had that extra protection.
Blair pulled the Volvo up beneath a light on the Rainier campus parking lot, and stepped outside his car to wait for Joyce to arrive. He didn't notice the tall woman dressed in a hooded cloak gliding toward him until she was almost on top of him. In the second it took for him to connect her appearance with the story that Brown had told earlier, she was upon him.
Grabbing him by the shoulders in a grip of steel, the hooded woman threw him to the ground, and pounced down at him. As she lunged, her hand came in contact with the silver Ankh around Blair's neck. He caught the acrid scent of burning flesh a moment before he heard Joyce's voice call out, "Wait, what's going on there? Get away from him!"
With a speed Blair would have believed impossible, the hooded woman sprang to her feet and disappeared into the night.
Joyce reached Blair's side a moment later, and helped him up, asking if he was okay. Glancing down, Blair noticed the layer of fine, black ash covering his Ankh. He sank back toward the pavement, on knees suddenly too shaky to bear his weight.
"Omigod, omigod, omigod. Joyce, help me inside. I need to call Jim right now."
Jim cursed as his cell phone rang. Flipping it open, he growled, "This had better be important. I was rather busy at the moment."
"J-j-j-jim. It's me, Blair. She attacked me, Jim. She burned herself on my Ankh. She would've killed me. Please hurry."
"Calm down, where are you, Chief? What happened?"
"It was the woman that attacked Rafe. She came after me here on campus. She would have killed me except she hit her hand on my silver Ankh and burned herself. It scared her away. Joyce came and helped me back to my office. That's where I am now."
"Give me a couple minutes, Chief. I'll call Simon and let him know what happened and I'll be right over there."
Hanging up the phone, Jim turned to the woman lying beside him and said, "Sorry, Monique. Gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow night."
Pulling on his clothes, Jim ran to his truck, and headed in the direction of the Rainier campus. Dialing the cell phone one-handed, Jim spoke quickly into the instrument.
"Simon, Blair just called. He was attacked at the University tonight by Rafe's hooded woman. He isn't seriously hurt, I'm on my way now."
"Jim, I'm over at Rachael's. I'm only a couple of minutes from campus. Should I meet you there?"
"No, Simon, that won't be necessary. There's no reason for both of us to ruin our dates."
Pulling into the campus parking lot, Jim jumped out of the truck and ran up the stairs to Blair's office. Bursting through the doors, Jim saw Blair slumped over his desk with a cute young woman in army fatigues massaging his shoulders.
"Hey, Chief," he said softly, gently brushing a curl back from the young man's cheek, "are you okay? What exactly happened here?"
"Define okay, Jim." Blair retorted, "If you're asking whether I'm injured, the answer is no, except for a couple of bruises. If you're asking if I'm scared out of my mind, the answer is yes."
"Look at this Jim. I told you it was a werewolf. See, she burned her hand on my silver Ankh, and left ashes behind. What do you have to say about that!" Blair exclaimed waving the item in question in front of the big detective's eyes.
"Let me see that, Sandburg," Jim said, snatching it from Blair's hands. "It's kind of hard to see with you waving it all over the place like that."
Looking carefully at the Ankh, Jim noted that it was covered with the same fine ash he'd seen on the earlier victim's silver cross. "You know, forensics never could tell what that ash was from. I guess now we know. I hate to say it, but there just might be something to this werewolf theory of yours after all. God - if Simon was here to hear me say that... Come on, Chief, I'll take you home. Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine, Jim. I don't need to go to the hospital this time. Thanks a lot for your help, Joyce. Thanks for the bullets. I'll let you know what happens."
"You ready to go now, Romeo? What bullets are you talking about, anyway? You don't carry a gun."
"I'll tell you all about it, when we get home, Jim."
"Don't tell me that the kid has actually convinced that you need to carry silver bullets in your gun? Who do you think you are? The Lone Ranger?"
"Come on, Simon," Jim replied in an exasperated tone. "I saw the ash on his Ankh. Sandburg saw her burn her hand. I believe him."
"Now, Jim, you know he was a little freaked out about the whole thing last night. Are you sure he wasn't just imagining things?"
"Simon, what's it going to hurt? I carry the silver bullets, Blair feels better. Even if it's not a werewolf, they'll still kill it dead."
"OK. If it makes the two of you feel better. You get to explain it to the Commissioner, though. So, the next full moon is four nights away. What do you have planned?"
"Animal control is still out looking for wolves. I gotta tell you, though, Simon, after what Blair showed me, I don't know if I like having them out there with no protection."
"So, what would you have me do, Jim? Equip everyone with silver bullets on Sandburg's say so? I'm sure they'll be fine. When we find the wolves, I promise I won't give Blair too much grief over this obsession of his." Simon replied, sitting back in his chair and adjusting his turtleneck sweater.
"OK. If you insist, we'll have animal control out on patrol those nights. I don't like it though."
"Duly noted, Detective. Now, if you want to take that silver-obsessed partner of yours and check out the last few slaughterhouses on your list, I'd appreciate it. Maybe we'll catch a break, and find them before the next full moon hits."
"If not, we're looking at another blood bath."
The evening of the next full-moon was clear and cold. Jim and Blair met up with the patrol cops and animal control officers who would be assisting in the hunt. Standing in front of the gathered personnel, Jim gave them some last minute instructions.
"Now, listen up, everybody. We're looking for large wolves, trained to kill humans. We're not sure how many of these things there are, but we know they're extremely dangerous. If you spot one, do not approach it. Call me for back up immediately. Is everyone clear on this? Okay, let's get moving, and don't forget what I said. Call me for back up."
"Gee, Jim," Blair commented as they headed for the truck, "Do you think you made that 'call me for back up' thing clear enough?"
"Well, Chief, if you're right about what this thing, I have the only bullets that can actually hurt it. Since Simon insists that we have everyone out on the streets, I want to make sure that no one gets killed because they don't have the right ammunition in their guns. Now, let's get moving, Kid." Jim replied as the truck pulled out of the police department garage.
Several fruitless hours later, Blair was getting tired of sitting around in the truck, again. "Jim, I'm cold, I'm scared and my butt hurts. Isn't there something we can do to draw this thing out? I feel really useless just sitting here like this while that thing is probably ripping people apart even as we speak."
"Come on, Chief, you know this is the best way to do this. We have to--"
The police radio's squawking broke into Jim's words. "This is Joe, from Animal Control. I'm at Fifth and Edison. I think I've spotted one of your wolves. I'm going to try to get a closer look."
"Joe, we're only five blocks from your location. Stay in the truck, keep it in sight. Don't take any chances," Jim ordered, throwing the truck into gear and flooring the gas pedal.
"Detective Ellison, it's heading down a narrow alley. The truck won't fit. I'm going to get out of the truck and keep it in sight."
"Joe, stay in the vehicle. We'll be there in just a couple of minutes."
"Sorry, Sir. We'll lose it if I don't follow, and I can't let that happen. I have my revolver, I'll be fine."
Screeching around the corner, Jim and Blair caught sight of Joe's truck, the driver's side door hanging open. Joe was nowhere to be seen. Slamming on the brakes beside the Animal Control vehicle, Jim dove out of the truck yelling, "Joe, where are you?"
Several long seconds elapsed before they were answered by a blood curdling scream.
"Stay in the truck, Sandburg!" Jim yelled, as he sprinted for the source of the sound.
"OK, fine," Blair mumbled under his breath, as he slid out this side of the truck. "You don't even have any wolfsbane. What are you gonna do if you lose your gun again?"
Following after Jim, Blair was completely horrified by the sight which greeted his eyes. The unfortunate Animal Control officer lay sprawled on the concrete, the wolf still crouched over Joe's bloody throat.
Jim pulled his revolver and fired off two successive shots at the animal. The huge beast yelped as the bullets struck, then turned and leapt at the startled detective.
Blair was digging frantically in his pockets as the wolf completed it's leap. It hit the sentinel squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground and sending his gun flying. As the animal opened it's huge jaws to rip out the detective's throat, Blair found what he was looking for. Acting quickly, he threw the handful of wolfsbane at the snarling beast.
The effect was electric. The wolf let out an enraged snarl, and turned to limp away at an awkward gait. Blair helped Jim up from the pavement, retrieved Jim's gun and the two men set out after the wounded beast. Jim had no trouble tracking the blood spoor the animal left behind.
The erratic trail wound through the University grounds, leading eventually to a neat house located a couple of blocks away. The tracks led up to the open front door, and disappeared inside. Peering cautiously inside, gun at the ready, Jim whispered, "Stay behind me, Chief. It's wounded, it's gonna be desperate."
The two men crept slowly inside, following the bloody paw prints through the house to the basement door. Opening the door, the pungent odor of rotting flesh assailed Jim's sensitive nostrils, along with the faint undertone of another, much more familiar scent.
"Chief, I think Simon's here. I don't know what's going on, but keep your guard up, and stay behind me."
Descending the staircase, Jim and Blair were completely unprepared for the sight that greeted their eyes. In the middle of a lavishly appointed room, a large mahogany coffin lay on a ornate pedestal. In front of it, stood Simon, a blank look on his normally stern countenance. Beside him, a very large wolf sat, licking at the blood slowly tickling from it's wounds. As the two men watched, the animal rose up on it's hind legs and morphed into a beautiful woman with long dark hair and deep brown eyes.
"Good try, guys. But, you guessed wrong. You're not fighting a werewolf, you should have come loaded for vampire. That little trick of staging a bit of carnage on the full moon fools them every time, even if they are bright enough to figure out that it's something supernatural. The homeless served admirably in between times.
"Your captain here made a wonderful Renfield. A bite or two was all it took to bring him under my thrall. He kept me admirably informed and well entertained besides. By the way, silver just hurts a little.
"Simon, dearest, please take care of your detective over there. I have a date with the little anthropologist."
With an animalistic snarl, Simon threw himself across the room at Jim. Jim dropped his gun and grappled with the larger man. Simon fought with all the fury of one possessed, while Jim tried desperately to immobilize his friend without serious injury. Crashing to the floor, the two combatants wrestled across the carpet.
Meanwhile, Blair held the Ankh protectively between the approaching vampire and himself. Watching her advance, Blair was terrified to notice that the creature's eyes had turned blood red, long sharp fangs grew over her lower lip, and each of her fingers had grown an extra joint and had sprouted wicked looking talons.
She advanced slowly, attempting to catch his eyes and to circle around the protective talisman the young man brandished. Blair dropped his gaze from her face, knowing that to meet her stare would put him under her spell. He circled with her, keeping the Ankh between them at all times.
"Come on, Little One. Why fight it? You don't even have to die if you don't want to. I can always use another servant, especially one as intriguing as you are. Very few people even get as far as a werewolf. You figured out that the disappearing bums were connected. I am impressed."
"Sorry, but I don't think so. We don't get a lot of sunny days here in Cascade, and I'd prefer not to waste them sleeping in a coffin in some basement." As he spoke, Blair glanced frantically around the room looking for a weapon he could use against the monster advancing on him.
His gaze fell on an expensive, antique end table which had been reduced to kindling in Jim and Simon's struggle, and he changed his trajectory toward it.
As he reached his hand behind him to snatch the splintered table leg he'd seen earlier, Rachael flung herself at him, digging her sharp claws into his sides, drawing him toward her waiting fangs. With a scream of defiance, Blair plunged his impromptu stake into her back, just as her fangs sank in his throat. Despite everything he'd read in the mythology books, he was not prepared to the reality of a vampire's death.
She shuddered once, digging her talons even deeper into his sides, and then crumbled completely to dust. Blair laid his head back on the floor, finally allowing the pain and shock of the last few minutes to catch up with him.
Freed from Rachael's thrall, Simon looked up, confused, trying hard to remember why he was slowly throttling his best detective. "Uh, Jim, what's going on here? Why are we fighting, and why is Blair lying over there covered in blood and dust?"
"I'll explain everything, later," Jim rasped, "I need to check on Blair, right now."
"Man, these stitches itch! How come you get out of all this with a couple of bumps and bruises, and I get to have lots of stitches, and have to explain to the emergency room doctor where the fang marks in my throat came from?"
"Whatever you said, Chief, I'm sure it was brilliant. Wait a minute, I hear Simon coming up the hallway. Why don't you wait until he gets here to explain all those little details we didn't quite understand."
"Simon, it's good to see you." Jim said, opening the door for his captain. "Blair was just about to explain everything that happened to us last night."
Putting on his glasses, Blair slipped easily into his best lecturing mode. "Well, you see, according to the documentation I found upstairs in her house, your Rachael Harker was in actuality Mina Murray."
"And just who would this Mina Murray be anyway?" Simon questioned.
"Man, don't you guys read anything besides the sports page? Mina Murray was Jonathan Harker's fiancee in Bram Stoker's Dracula. I guess there was more truth to that tale than anyone ever wanted to believe.
"She's been around a long time, and had obviously hit on this method of concealing her identity even from anyone who might be looking for a paranormal explanation for the killings. By staging a rampage during the full moons, and concealing the bodies of her victims killed during the rest of the month, she was able to throw anyone tracking her off of her true nature. The journals I found detail the dates and places she's done this in."
"Okay, Sandburg," Simon continued his questioning, "if she was a vampire, why did she react to the wolfsbane? I thought you'd said that was a werewolf thing? And how come she was repelled by your Ankh? I thought it was the cross the repelled vampires?"
"Well, the wolfsbane goes back once again to ancient lore. According to what I've read, besides staking a vampire, you can also destroy one by chopping it's head off, stuffing it's mouth with wolfsbane, and throwing the body in running water. I guess there must be some truth in that.
As for the cross, well, that idea comes mostly from Judeo-Christian beliefs. Once again, in a lot of the old legends, vampires are repelled by any holy symbol, not just the cross."
"But, Blair," Jim broke in hoarsely, "you haven't told us about the important part yet. You and Simon were both bitten. Do I need to start laying in a supply of stakes?"
"Ugh, no way. You don't become a vampire from the bite of one. You need to exchange blood for that to happen. Just think about it for a minute, Jim. If everyone bitten by a vampire became one, we'd be hip deep in blood suckers within two weeks' time. That would not be good," Blair explained, rubbing absently at his throat.
Simon turned guiltily away upon seeing Blair's gesture.
"Oh, come on, Simon. It wasn't your fault," Blair exclaimed. "She put you completely under her power when she bit you. The same would have happened to Jim or me or anyone else under the same circumstances. You are not to blame for her actions."
"I know that," Simon muttered. "It's just going to take some time until I actually believe it."
fin.
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