I was hanging my latest acquisition over the fireplace in my office when I heard a knock on the door.

"Enter," I called out as I shifted the painting a little to get it to lay straight.

The door opened and I looked over my shoulder. It was Anya, my best friend and Beta. I climbed down and walked over to her, giving her a hug. She returned it, but was distracted by the painting. I looked back over it and I couldn't help but let a grin slide over my face.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," I asked her.

"It really is," she answered. "The way the wolves are playing or whatever it is they're doing, it's like the artist spent a lot of time studying them. Where'd you find it?"

I shrugged, "When I was in Richmond a month or so back, there was a gallery opening. Curiosity got the better of me and I walked out with this painting. The artist goes by the name Griffin. So, what brings you by?"

Anya sighed and replied, "I've got some bad news."

I looked over at her sharply and leaned against my desk, "What happened?"

"Someone bought the Anderson place."

Floored, I angrily said, "You have got to be fucking kidding me?! That asshole! He knew I wanted the place."

"I wish I was," she replied, shaking her head. "Whoever bought the place, paid in full for it and an additional twenty acres."

"Who the hell needs forty acres of property," I said, incredulously. "Did you get the buyer's name, by chance?"

"No, it was a closed sale. We won't be able to get any information until they arrive."

"Fuck," I said pacing, "I needed that damn property."

"I know, Lex," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry. There's something else."

I looked up at her, glaring and growled out, "What is it?"

Anya shrunk back slightly and replied, "It looks like they're remodeling the house and the grounds."

"Did it look like they would be digging around the property line?"

Anya shook her head and replied, "I don't think so, but it's too soon to tell. They're just now starting the remodel."

"Then all might not be lost," I said, thinking. "We might be able to still find it. I just wish I knew exactly where great, great gramps buried the damn thing. You think we could get a GPR quickly?"

"Maybe," she answered. "I'd have to make some calls. Would it even register on the thing?"

"Any kind of mass would show up," I said. "Doesn't matter if it's metallic or otherwise. I need that damn box."

"Alright, I'll get right on it," she said and left.

I sat behind my desk and stared at the painting as I contemplated exactly what I wanted to do. That piece of property was the last remaining memory of when my family first settled in this region. Before my great, great grandfather was forced to leave, he had buried a family heirloom that had been brought from Estonia. His diaries hadn't given much detail as to what it was except that it was large and had taken three werewolves to carry it to the back of the property where it was buried. It didn't matter what it really was, just that it belonged to my family.

Over fifty years ago, when he was forced to sell the land, he had also been forced to sell a lot of things. I'd spent most of my adult life searching for them, including old family diaries. I'd found most of them in the hands of private collectors and auction houses, including Ebay. This was the last thing I needed. The last item that would allow me to surround myself with my family again.

I stared more deeply at the wolves in the painting and was shocked to find bright blue eyes gazing outward. I got out of the chair and walked slowly towards the painting, the blue eyes mesmerizing. I climbed back on the stool to get closer and examined the wolf with the eyes. That was when I noticed that the wolf looked very different from the others. Instead of the typical gray and black fur, it was streaked with light browns and in some instances what looked like blonde fur. Shocked, I stepped back down and walked backwards. This was no ordinary painting of wolves. No. One of those wolves was a werewolf. A blonde haired, blue eyed, werewolf.