November 28th - December 7th, 2013

I rolled over and reached my arm out to cuddle with Nate. I opened my eyes when I realized that instead of my hand touching him, it just grasped at more blankets.

I sat up and looked at the alarm clock that was on the nightstand. It was 6:17 AM.

I could hear Nate and Garth's muffled voices coming from outside of the room.

My legs were tangled in the blankets, and I struggled to untangle them as my body was still partly asleep.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned. My feet touched the cold floor, and I stood up with a bit of a stretch.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

It sounded like Garth and Nate were starting to panic about something.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"No! That's not right. It's FBI!" Nate shouted from another room.

I got dressed and walked into the hall, my eyes squinting from the bright light.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Do you not even see the cable? Clearly, it's CIA!" Garth shouted.

The phone stopped ringing as I rounded the corner into the office.

"We can't be missing calls like that anymore," Nate said seriously.

I saw Nate sitting behind a desk, and Garth was standing, looking at him in disbelief.

"It's your fault, dude. I told you it was CIA," Garth said.

"What's going on, guys?" I asked.

Nate and Garth suddenly became cheery, almost like their argument or whatever it was had never happened.

Nate smiled. "Good morning."

"Hey, Maddi," Garth said.

"Whatcha guys up to?" I sat down in a chair.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Garth looked towards the corner of the room by the coat rack, then he looked at Nate.

"Texas Rangers," they said in unison.

Garth walked over to the phone, cleared his throat, and picked it up. "This is Texas Ranger Sergeant Cordell Walker. What can I do for ya?"

He looked back at us and gave a thumbs up.

"Oh, yeah. Benson's one of our best rangers," he said.

Nate stood up and walked over to me. "Did you want a coffee or tea?" He led me into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'll have some tea," I said.

Nate grabbed a pot and started filling it with water.

I walked over and leaned on the counter. "So, what's going on in there?"

The faucet shut off, and Nate turned to put the pot on the stove. "Well, when Bobby died. People started calling Garth like they did Bobby. Needing someone to cover for them or help them crack a case."

"Ever since I moved in, I've been trying to help him set up a system like Bobby had." Nate looked towards the doorway. "He's been getting a bit overwhelmed with it all."

"Well, what have you guys done?" I asked.

Nate grabbed a box of teabags from a cabinet. "We snagged some phones from the thrift shop. Managed to get them working."

"That's it?" I asked. "That's literally nothing."

Nate took a step back, looking offended. "What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes. "That's like getting a set of knives and thinking you're a chef."

"Well, it wasn't easy to find old beat-up phones that could actually function. I don't think you understand what we had to go through to get those phones, especially the rotary one," Nate said.

"You could have just went to any old store and bought cheap burner phones for now." I shrugged. "You lived with Bobby for three years. You could have gotten everything else set up while you waited on the phones."

Nate put his arms out. "Whoa. You're saying a lot for someone who wasn't even here to witness the struggle."

I pouted my lip. "Oh! I have to hook up this phone. It's so hard. I'm eighty," I mocked.

Nate started to get visibly frustrated. "Okay. Garth had to literally fight an old woman for the rotary phone. And the reason we have it isn't because he won."

"What does that even mean?" I asked.

"Garth and the old lady reached for the phone at the same time. They both were too stubborn to let it go, and that resulted in a sort of tug of war over it. The old lady was just too strong for Garth. I had to distract her with a porcelain cat just so he could swipe the phone from under her arm," Nate said.

I looked at Nate, stunned. "You couldn't just let the old lady have the friggin' phone?"

"Well, we needed one more phone, and we hadn't found one in months. We weren't about to let this one slip through our fingers," he said.

"Again, burner phone. Like ten bucks. How much did you even pay for the rotary phone?" I asked.

Nate walked away. "That's not what we're talking about."

"I guess we'll move on then. So, all you guys have done is get the phones together?" I asked.

Nate nodded.

"Do people even know which numbers to call for FBI or CIA?" I asked.

"Uh, well, we are still trying to work that out ourselves," Nate said.

I looked at him sideways. "What do you mean?"

He turned and started walking. "Walk with me."

I followed Nate into the office where Garth was writing something down in a notebook. Nate walked over to the coat rack.

"We know that this phone here." Nate gestured towards the phone that Garth had been using just a minute ago. "Is for when someone is posing as a Texas Ranger. We know that because on this coat rack is a cowboy hat."

He smiled and started to walk away from the coat rack.

I rolled my eyes. "Really?"

Garth smiled when he realized we were back in the room. "Are you showing her our awesome setup?" he asked Nate.

"Yeah. She has the audacity to say that we aren't organized enough. I'm just showing her how organized we really are," Nate said.

I shrugged. "Yeah, great. What's next?"

Nate looked at me seriously. "Rude. Next is the cordless phone. This one has a big chip in the side."

"Mmm. Reminds me of fish and chips," Garth said.

Nate nodded. "Right. But chips are actually french fries. Bureau is a french word. Therefore this phone is for hunters posing as FBI agents."

Nate looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I laughed. "Oh, wow, you guys have got this all figured out. I was so wrong to doubt you."

Garth nodded. "Yeah. See? She gets it."

"I can tell you're being sarcastic," Nate said as he shook his head.

Garth got visibly upset. "What? You don't like it?" He started walking across the room. "What about this one?"

He picked up the rotary phone and gestured at the cable. "See this cord? It's all tangled up, looks like two zeroes 'cause of the loops. 007, right? He was a secret agent, sort of like the CIA. Anytime this phone rings, we know a hunter is posing as CIA."

I smiled. "Yeah. This has been so impressive. You guys have blown me away."

Garth smiled. "Good."

Nate looked at him. "Dude, still sarcasm."

Garth furrowed his brow. "Seriously? Did you even tell her how we got this one? I almost got my eye scratched out over this."

"Was the granny that tough?" I chuckled.

"She was like a young granny. Probably did a lot of Pilates." Garth looked at Nate. "Did you tell her about the bidding war?"

Nate put his head in his hands. "Nope."

I could barely hold in my laughter. "How much did you guys pay for that phone?"

Garth took a deep breath. "That's not really important right now."

"I don't see why it's such a big deal for you to tell me how much you guys paid to outbid an old lady at the thrift store," I said.

Nate sighed. "It was fifty bucks, okay? Can you stop badgering us now?"

"I'm just curious why you would pay that much money for a rotary phone. I don't even think people seriously use these anymore," I said.

Garth set the phone down. "I think she was just upset 'cause I beat her to it, and she wanted us to really pay up for it."

I started to walk back towards the coat rack. "Well, either way." I grabbed the cowboy hat and paused for a second before tossing it across the room and next to the phone with the chip in it. "Which phone is for the Texas Rangers now?"

"Obviously, the one by the coat rack," Nate said.

"But you said you guys knew it was that phone because of the cowboy hat…" I shrugged. "Well, now there's no cowboy hat."

Nate looked at me. "You're being ridiculous."

"Okay, what about this?" I asked and walked over to the rotary phone. I grabbed the wire and pulled it to remove the coil. "No more 007. Which ones for the CIA again?"

Garth looked at Nate. "I don't like this very much."

"I'm not trying to hurt anyone's feelings. I'm just trying to prove a point." I looked at them seriously. "If a hunter calls you for a cover and you answer the phone wrong, they could get arrested, and people could die."

"So, what's your plan to help us fix this?" Nate asked.

"How about a good old reliable trick straight out of Bobby's handbook?" I smirked. "Masking tape and a permanent marker."

"Yeah, but then the phone will get all sticky from the adhesive on the tape once it starts to wear off. Then it will be all weird," Nate said.

"What is wro—" I shook my head. "Ya know what? I'm not gonna be mean. There's ways to fix that, so don't be such a primadonna. Besides, that won't happen for a long time. If it was good enough for Bobby, it's good enough for you."

Before Nate could protest again, the tea kettle started to whistle.

"Whoa, you made tea?" Garth asked with a smile.

We finished our tea and then ran into town for some supplies for organizing the phones. I even managed to talk Nate into getting a few throwaway cell phones so they could have options other than police agencies.

As Nate and I organized and labeled the phones, Garth walked into the room in a hurry.

"Hey, do you know where the book about mythological beasts from Ancient Greece is?" Garth asked.

Nate thought for a second. "No. I don't remember where we put it."

Garth stomped his foot. "Ugh. What about the book on Indonesian Curses?"

"Is that the one you used to fix the wobbling table?" Nate asked.

Garth slapped his forehead. "I think you're right." He turned and ran into the kitchen.

A moment later, we heard a crash.

Nate looked up. "I think he just bruised some apples."

Garth came walking back into the room, holding a book that looked like it belonged in an encyclopedia collection.

"Garth, why is the table that crooked that you need a four-inch-thick book to keep it from wobbling?" I asked.

Nate leaned over. "Well, actually, we got it from the thrift store, and it only had three legs, which were already uneven."

"Yeah. We put the fourth one on and didn't realize it was so short. Measure once and cut twice, ya know?" Garth said.

I paused for a second. "You know that's not the saying, right?"

Garth shrugged. "Same thing." He turned and left the room.

I looked at Nate. "Clearly, you guys don't know how to shop at a thrift store."

Nate leaned back. "Wh—" And his weight caused the chair leg to snap as he fell to the ground.

I looked down at him. "Let me guess."

Nate rubbed his back. "Yeah. Thrift store."

Garth came into the office just as Nate and I finished up labeling and organizing the phones. He walked over and plopped down into one of the chairs and then let out a big sigh.

"Look, man, we have the phones all organized now." Nate pointed to the desk that now had all of the phones lined up next to each other. They were labeled with their corresponding government agency.

Garth looked over at the desk. "Oh, cool."

Nate looked at him, a little puzzled. "What's up, man?"

"I've got like four cases that need hunters, then I have some research I have to do for a few cases that are being taken care of. I'm just a little stressed out, is all." Garth leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I really don't know how Bobby did it all," he said, shaking his head.

I sat down next to Garth. "First of all, don't compare yourself to Bobby. You're just starting out doing something that he did for years."

"Yeah. I mean, he had been doing this since the telegraph." Nate laughed.

"In honor of Bobby…" I smacked Nate in the back of the head. "Shut up, ya idjit."

Nate reached back and rubbed his head. "Ow!"

I turned to Garth. "Anyways. You're still getting all of this stuff organized. Maybe you need a little break."

Garth straightened up in the chair. "Yeah. Maybe that's a good idea."

"You can use your Relaxation Station. That's what it's for, right?" Nate asked.

"Why don't you give us one of the cases that you need covered? Nate and I will go take care of it, and you chill here," I said.

"Are you sure? You wouldn't want more backup?" Garth asked.

"If we need more backup, we'll give you a call," Nate said.

Garth started to stand. "Okay. I'll be right back."

He left the room and walked into the office, returning a minute later with a manilla folder full of papers and news clippings.

"So, this one is actually not too far away." He handed us the file.

I started opening the folder and pulling out papers.

"About three weeks ago, I caught wind of an accident that happened not too far away. A little town called Brady, right in the heart of Nebraska." Garth pointed to the most recent newspaper clipping. "Reports say that a family was murdered. I guess one night, a commotion was heard by a neighbor who called the police. The cops showed up and found an entire family slaughtered in their living room," he continued.

"So, what makes this one of ours?" I asked.

"The cops found a video camera at the scene of the crime. The camera was left recording and shows that one of the police officers from the town was responsible for murdering the family." Garth tilted his head. "Only problem is—"

Nate nodded. "He doesn't remember?"

Garth pointed to him. "Exactly."

I shrugged. "Okay, but he could just be a psycho, claiming amnesia."

Garth nodded. "That's what I thought too until another murder happened last week. A few hours away from Brady, in the town of Kimball. Same MO. Family found murdered in their home. Video camera setup and a cop who takes the fall."

Nate looked at Garth. "Do we know where they're gonna strike next?"

Garth shook his head. "No, but we can guess." He started pulling more reports out of the folder and laying them on a table in front of us.

"I was able to dig up multiple murders that happened before whatever this is hit Brady. It looks like every town is either on or just off of interstate 80. That road stretches from Chicago all the way to San Francisco," Garth said.

"Well, it looks like we at least have a week or two to track them down before their next hit," Nate said.

Nate and I pulled up outside of the Kimball, Nebraska police department. We walked into the building and were greeted by a police officer behind a counter.

"What can I help you two with today?" she asked with a smile.

Nate and I flashed our FBI badges.

"I'm Agent Connor, and this is my partner Agent Brock," I said.

We put our badges away, and Nate took a step forward.

"We were looking into the recent murder of the Dykeman family. We hoped you could be of assistance," Nate said.

The police officer scowled. "Yeah. I can help you out. I'll have the file ready for you in just a minute. You can follow Deputy Hicks to a desk."

We followed Deputy Hicks through the barracks and to an empty interrogation room. A few minutes later, the officer who greeted us walked in with a folder sitting on top of a box of evidence.

"Thank you, Officer…?" I asked.

"My apologies. I'm Officer Franklin. If you don't mind me asking, seems like a pretty open and closed case. I mean with the recording we found and everything," she said.

"Just bureau protocol. Gotta get all the details in order." Nate smiled.

Officer Franklin nodded. "I always thought Jennings was a nice guy. Just goes to show that you can't truly trust anyone." She turned to leave.

"Before you go, could you tell us anything about Jennings before the murder happened? Was he acting weird or different than usual in the days leading up to it?" I asked.

Officer Franklin turned back. "He rode with me to the call. Wasn't scared or nervous to go. We got there, and he was just as shocked as I was when we walked in. Blood everywhere. Could barely recognize the family." She started to tear up a little.

"And how did he react once you found the tape?" Nate asked.

"I don't think I ever saw the color drain from someone's face as quickly as it did his. Jennings kept denying he was ever there. He claims that he doesn't remember doing that. But I don't know how you could ever forget doing something that barbaric," Officer Franklin said.

Nate and I paused and shared a glance.

"Thanks, officer. If we need anything, we'll let you know," I said.

Officer Franklin left the room, and Nate started digging into the box as I opened the folder and began reading the report.

I looked up at Nate. "So, I really only see two options here. Either demon—"

"Or shifter," Nate said.

"Exactly. Would explain the lapse in memory. Let's see, I have his account here." I began skimming the report.

Nate was looking at the crime scene photos. "There really isn't anything in the pictures that points to demon. I don't see any sulfur or anything."

"If he's in that tape, we've gotta watch it. It's our best chance at IDing what we're dealing with," I said.

"Agreed. There doesn't seem to be much here. Did you find anything in that report?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Nothing we didn't already know, for the most part. He claims that he was home eating dinner with his family that night. Says here that he is pretty adamant that he was being framed. Said that he was being followed the whole week leading up to the murder."

Nate set the photos back in the box. "Hmm. Seems a little strange. Anything else?"

"Not really. We should probably have Officer Franklin show us the video, though," I said.

"Okay." Nate got up, and I followed him out of the room.

Officer Franklin showed us the video of Jennings committing the murders. We were able to see that the thing doing this was, in fact, a shifter due to the eye flair that happened when caught on camera.

We were given keys to get into the house to investigate the crime scene to see if there were any more clues.

The door was crisscrossed with crime scene tape, and Nate wiggled the door open.

We walked in and started looking around for anything out of the ordinary.

"Hey! Come up here!" Nate shouted from upstairs.

I walked up the stairs and into what appeared to be a teenager's room.

Nate pointed to a large map on the wall that had a bunch of pins in it. "You remember what the other locations were?" he asked.

I thought for a second. "There was Brady, Anita, Williamsburg."

"It looks like someone left us a clue," Nate said.

"What are you talking about? Why would they do that?" I asked.

"Beats me. But we have a trail leading us from Minooka, Illinois to Rawlins, Wyoming." He pointed out a series of red pins that were on the map.

I walked up and took a closer look. "Wow. Each pin is in exactly the town where Garth found other murders. Strange."

"Well, at least we know where to go next," Nate said.

"Yeah, but it doesn't make any sense. Why would the shifter leave us a map to where they're gonna be?" I asked.

Nate shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's their way of rubbing it in our faces. Like they're going to be long gone before we get there and catch them."

"Something doesn't seem right. The murders are at least two or three weeks apart. And if we already know where they're going, then how are they ahead of us?" I asked.

"We don't know how many people are in…" Nate looked back at the map. "Rawlins, Wyoming. And they could be anybody. So just because we know where they are doesn't mean we know who they are."

I nodded. "Okay, fair point."

I knocked on the door of Nate's car and gestured for him to open it up. He reached over to the passenger side and pushed the door open. I reached in and handed him a cup of coffee.

I slid into the passenger seat and shut my door. "Anything yet?" I asked.

Nate took a sip of his coffee and sighed. "Nothing yet. We've been coming here for the past five days and still haven't caught anything. I'm beginning to think it's a dead end."

"Jennings said that he was being followed before the murders happened. So, they must do that in every town. This is the only police station in Rawlins, so it's just a matter of time before they show up," I said.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Nate looked at me. "I did a bit of research while you were out. I actually found similar murders in '92, '68, and '39, even going as far back as the late 1800s. Same route but different towns."

"Seriously?" I asked, "No one's ever caught on to this before?"

Nate shrugged. "I guess not. Maybe nobody ever really looked into it as much as Garth did. I mean, some of these murders are during a time when cars weren't even around. So I'm sure it wasn't easy to collect news from multiple towns across the country."

I nodded. "Okay, that's fair."

"I mean, even with the research I've done, I still can't find a motive or anything substantial to go off of. Just cops killing a family, and then they move on to the next town," Nate said.

"So, what? Do these shifters have a thing against cops or something?" I asked, "Like, are the families the targets or the police?"

Nate shook his head. "Beats me."

"Are there any connections between the families?" I asked.

"Other than living in small towns and being home at the time, no, not really," Nate said.

I pointed to an old SUV parked a bit away from the police station. "How long has that car been sitting there?"

Nate thought for a second. "Not sure. They pulled up just a few minutes after you left. I haven't seen anyone get out."

"Nathan, that car has just been sitting there for a half-hour?" I gave him a look. "And when I asked you if anything was going on, you thought the response should be 'nothing yet'?"

"In my defense, nothing is actually happening. There's just a car parked on the side of the street. No action going on at all. Now, if they had started following someone, then I would have said, 'Hey, there's a car that started following a cop like fifteen minutes ago. What took you so long?'" Nate said with a bit of attitude.

I looked at him, shocked. "Seriously? You could have said, 'Nothing really. Except this car has been parked here since you left, and nobody has gotten out yet.'"

"Well, they haven't left yet. So, no big deal. Right?" Nate asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay. Whatever."

Just then, a police car pulled out of the parking lot and began heading down the street. After a moment, the SUVs lights came on, and it drove after the cop car.

I swatted at Nate's arm. "We have movement. Let's go."

"Whoa. I'm working with hot liquids here." Nate gestured towards the opened coffee cup between his legs.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked. "Come on, we gotta go."

Nate sighed. "If someone got my coffee the right way, I wouldn't have to add extra sugar." He capped the coffee and put it in the cupholder.

"Either let me finish making it or get out and let me drive. We're gonna lose them," I said.

"Alright, alright. You're a lot more impatient than Garth is." He started the car and pulled into the street, following the cop and SUV. "I already put one sugar packet in there, so it only needs two more."

I looked at Nate. "Is that how Garth makes it for you? Three packets of sugar 'cause you're a growing boy?"

Nate scoffed. "Why so rude, bro?"

"I'm driving next time," I said.

After a few minutes, we caught up to the SUV. We followed them for a few miles and into a small neighborhood outside of the town.

Nate slowly pressed on the brakes. "Looks like they're pulling over now."

The cop car turned into a driveway, and the SUV parked on the side of the road a little way down.

We sat there for about ten or fifteen minutes, waiting for something to happen.

"So, this has to be them, right?" I asked.

Nate shrugged. "I mean, yeah. I'd say so." He took a sip of his coffee and shuddered. "Ugh, too sweet."

I glared at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Eyes on the prize. They're already leaving." Nate gestured towards the SUV, which was now slowly pulling away from the curb.

"They must scope out the place before making their move," I said.

Nate nodded. "Sounds about right."

"Let's see where they're going then," I said.

We drove through the suburbs for a few minutes before turning onto a side road that led us into the countryside.

"Ya know, I still can't wrap my head around this. Why are they doing this? Shifters aren't necessarily bad. At least they don't have to be," Nate said, "There's nothing in their nature that makes them have to, or want to, kill. They could literally live out normal, human lives if they wanted to."

I shrugged. "I mean, there are bad humans. Maybe there's something else to it. We found a pattern, at least somewhat. They could have a reason for doing this rather than just wanting to."

"Yeah. This whole thing is just a little weird," Nate said.

I nodded. "I agree."

After about five minutes or so, the SUV started to slow down and turned onto a dirt driveway that led back to an old barn.

Nate pulled over. "Well, let's scope this out." He reached into the back seat and grabbed a pair of binoculars.

"See anything?" I asked.

Nate looked at me, a little surprised. "It's literally just a kid. Look." He handed me the binoculars.

I looked towards the barn and saw a young kid, maybe fifteen or sixteen, walking across the dirt to a barn door. He opened it up and went inside.

"This whole time, we've been tailing a kid?" I gave Nate a puzzled look.

Nate nodded. "Do you think he's working alone?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, there really isn't anything pointing to there being more than one shifter." I thought for another moment. "I mean, it's possible, but that's a lot of work for a kid."

"Do shifters ever work in packs? I've never seen it," Nate said.

I shook my head. "Only one I've ever seen was the alpha."

"That seems like an outlier," Nate said.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Let's just be on our toes."

We both got out of the car and gathered our things. We made our way across the road and over to the barn.

I stopped a little ways away from the barn. "Got your silver ready?"

Nate checked the magazine for his pistol. "Sure do. Lead the way."

I stepped forward and made my way towards the barn door. I turned and silently mouthed to Nate. "1... 2... 3…" On three, I opened the door, and Nate ran into the barn.

Standing in the middle of the barn was the kid. He put their hands up.

"Wait. Don't shoot," the kid said.

I walked up next to Nate, guns still pointed towards the kid.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I was just checking out the barn. I've heard this place is haunted," the kid said.

Nate took a step forward. "Is that why you were following a cop? And then waiting outside of their house? I'm calling bull."

A look of worry came across the kid's face, and he swallowed hard. "You were following me?"

"Yup. All the way from the police station. Wanna explain any of that?" I asked.

"Um. It— It was… um." The kid stuttered.

"It was what?" Nate asked.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash. I looked over, and Nate was lying on the ground, unconscious, and a man was standing over him.

I began to turn towards the man to shoot him. He lunged forward and knocked the gun from my hands.

I brought my hands up to protect myself. The man swung out, hitting me in the head and knocking me down.

"Everything has gone exactly as planned. Joseph, Come here and finish them," the man said.

I looked over and saw the kid pick up my gun and begin walking towards me.

"Good idea, son. Kill them with their own weapons," the man said.

He reached down and grabbed me by the collar, yanking me to my feet.

"Here, Joseph." The shifter shoved me towards the boy. "This is what we've been working towards. Now's your moment."

I stumbled towards the boy, still a little dizzy from the shifter hitting me. The boy reached out and stopped me from falling into the dirt floor.

He helped me steady myself before looking back toward the shifter.

"No," the boy said.

The shifter's face turned to rage. "What? I've been grooming you for years so that you could ascend. And now you're telling me no?"

The boy shook his head. "I don't want this. I never wanted this. Why can't we just live a normal life?"

"Because. They need to pay for what they've done to us and our kind. If you don't do this, you won't be welcomed back into our family," the shifter said.

"If we're a family of killers, I don't want to be welcomed back. I'm sick of the death and murder. I just want to be normal," the boy said.

The shifter gestured towards me. "Do you think they care about you? Do you think that they'll let us live a normal life, after all we have done? I've told you plenty of times, they don't care who we are, just what we are. To them, we are monsters. And they won't stop hunting us down until they've killed every last shifter on Earth."

"I don't care. I won't do it." The boy started to cry.

"Okay then, boy. I'll do it then if you won't." The shifter took a step toward Nate.

"Stop!" The boy raised my gun towards the shifter. "I won't let you keep killing."

"You'd raise that weapon at me, your own blood, but not them? You certainly aren't the son I raised and loved." The shifter lunged toward his son.

My ears rang as the boy pulled the trigger and fired the gun at his father.

The shifter collapsed onto the floor, unmoving.

The boy stood, arms still pointing out and holding my gun. I stumbled to my feet and slowly reached over to take the gun from the boy. He let me take the gun from his hands.

Joseph looked at me. "What did I just do?" He slowly walked over to his father's body and knelt down beside him.

I stood there in shock. The silence was broken as Nate started to get up and grabbed his gun. When he got to his feet, he pointed his gun at Joseph.

I put my hand out to stop Nate. "No. Wait."

He looked at me, confused. "Why?"

"He just killed his father to save us," I said.

Nate furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"I had to," Joseph said sadly. "He was never going to stop."

"So, you just let him go?" Garth asked as he poured coffee into a mug.

I shrugged. "I mean, yeah. What were we supposed to do? He saved our asses."

Nate nodded. "We did tell him if we ever saw him again, we would kill him."

"But what about all the families he killed?" Garth asked.

"Apparently, he had nothing to do with it. It was all the father," I said, "I guess it was supposed to be some rite of passage. The group of shifters they descended from way back in the day were slaughtered by hunters. All the families and cops affected were just collateral damage, just lures for us. The goal was to kill a hunter to prove they were ready to protect their family."

Garth shook his head. "Man, this gig just gets weirder and weirder." He paused for a moment. "Oh, here's your coffee. Just the way you like it." He handed the mug to Nate.

Nate took a sip. "Mmm. Perfect."

I rolled my eyes. "Y'all are too much."