Chapter 4

Doug crept along the side of the house at a slow but steady pace. He was no longer in the slums. This was a really nice neighborhood. He knew what those tiny dark objects hugging the fancy Californian stucco were all about. They jutted out just far enough for the human eye to see. He dropped to the ground, sliding along beneath. Most motion sensors didn't view anything directly beneath them. Lucky for him, he made it passed without incident. He kept his breath held anyway. The house could have a silent alarm.

He dropped to the ground again as he found another one embedded into the wall of the mansion. He got grass in his mouth, which he tried to spit out silently. It wasn't a nice taste. After that, he decided to stay down. It was so dark out that he didn't know when he might miss one of the sensors. And if he was caught, he'd have quite a lot of explaining to do.

He didn't exactly look innocent with grass stains running along his dark clothing. And if they took the time to search him well, they would find a strangle-looking instrument within one pocket that nearly resembled a gun. Rollson had given it to him for his use. It was an interesting little gadget. Apparently it shot out millions of hypersonic silver needles when the trigger was pulled. Doug had the object on safety right now. The gun could cause as much havoc to him as it could to the werewolf.

Doug smiled grimly. Tony Waldowin was about to get quite a surprise. Doug didn't particularly feel sorry for the man. He killed innocent people—all for the sake of his business. Just to live in a mansion with a six car garage and a pool and tennis court. There was also a shimmering lake out back where several boats were docked. Doug didn't feel the least bit jealous. This was blood money. It was tainted.

Doug hadn't killed someone in over six months. He had grown unused to the idea. He was afraid that when he did, the nightmares would come back. He didn't feel sorry for Tony. In fact, the man deserved to die. But the thought of doing so brought him no pleasure as such business had for the Colonel. It was business as usual for Doug. If anything, he felt the sickness that was threatening to worm around in his belly. He had been pushing it away all night. This was something he had to do for the safety of humans everywhere. He was no stranger at taking the law into his hands.

As he turned another corner, a giant wooden object loomed above him. Doug smiled thinly. Just what he had been looking for. If the size of this deck was any indication, then this was the one that would enter the master bedroom.

Doug pulled himself away from the shadows of the house and walked through the shadows that fell from the massive deck. He gripped one of the supports with hands clad in black leather gloves. They were thick—specially designed to keep from giving off fingerprints or DNA samples. Doug's favorite feature was the rough, gripping texture on each finger. It helped immensely when it came to climbing.

He gripped each side of the post and began to climb. His muscles didn't strain much. He was used to climbing. His arms heaved him upward where he moved his feet caught his body from falling backward. His arms were free to pull him farther. He shimmied up to the top of the deck in about ten seconds flat. His hands caught the rail, which he used for leverage to boost his legs up in a horizontal position. He swung them over and landed softly.

He moved to the side of the house before the inhabitants of the room could look out the sliding glass door. Doug caught sight of two people sleeping soundly in a bed before he squeezed up against the side of the house. He cursed his luck. Who knew that such an evil man would have a wife and possibly children? He would be saving the world from one more werewolf—but what of his family? What if his family were good 'wolves like Jamie—if Jamie was a good 'wolf?

He pushed the thought aside. A good wolf and a bad wolf wouldn't align themselves together. Besides, if he was an evil man, then his family was better off without him. Doug felt sick as he thought this. Maybe he and Jamie were better off without the Colonel, but it didn't make his loss any easier.

Shut up, he told the voice in his head. If he kept this up, he was going to convince himself not to shoot the 'wolf. But he needed to be taken down before he hurt another person. And the police weren't going to do anything about him. They were still convinced that all those connected people were mysteriously killed by animal bites. And nothing would make them believe differently. Why would they want to believe in werewolves anyway? The idea would turn their nicely ordered lives upside-down.

So there were people like Doug to deal with these issues. As much as he hated to be the one to do it. You don't pick your situation in life, he thought. Only how you'll react to it.

He let out a breath. He was ready now—he hoped.

With a silent apology to Mr. Waldowin's family, he swung his fist into side of the house. The sound made a dull thunk. Not loud, but loud enough to wake the people in the next room. 'Wolves weren't known for being deep sleepers. Far from it, actually.

He squeezed up against the side of the house, listening intently. He heard the sound of covers moving and the barest whisper of feet dropping to the floor. The next noise was anything but quiet. "IS ANYONE OUT THERE?"

Doug cringed as the sound hit his ears. Tony was going to burst his eardrums if the man wasn't careful. Not that Tony would care. Doug allowed for a moment of silence, for effect. He had to lure the man to turn off the security and step out onto the deck. That was the only way this was going to work.

After a moment, he punched the side of the house again. He squeezed as far up against the side as possible. His back was flattened to the wall. He could imagine that Tony was looking out the glass door. The man wouldn't see him from this angle. He would have to come outside.

There was a pause that seemed to take forever. Finally, the door slid open on its rollers. Doug glanced to the side as one barefoot stepped out the door followed by another. Above the bare feet were pajama pant legs and above that, an old tee-shirt. Doug took in the man's politician look and the bat grasped between to muscled arms in a second. Then the back was being swung at him.

Doug hopped out of the way a second before impact. Tony was fast and strong, which was no surprise. It was to be expected. He lifted the gun from his pocket and pointed it at Mr. Waldowin.

Waldowin looked at the gun with confusion and a little fear. It may not have looked like a gun, but the way Doug was holding it, made it a weapon. Waldowin backed up a step.

"What do you want?" Waldowin intoned, lowering the bat slowly. Doug wasn't fooled. This wasn't a sign of peace. The way Tony was holding the bat at his side; it would be ready for unrestricted movement. In seconds, that bat could be flying toward Doug's head.

He stood ready, his muscles taut. He inched back the safety on his weapon as he spoke. "I'm here to stop you from killing any more people."

The man laughed softly. His eyes glinted with a feral light. "Kill me?" he asked. "My boy, I don't think you know who you're talking to. I could rip you apart in seconds. You have no idea what I am."

Doug pulled the trigger. There was a soft squeal and thousands of silver needles rained through the air. Waldowin opened his eye wide, tracking the needles flying toward his form. He made as if to move, but it was too late. His body was suddenly cut with a thousand tiny points, tearing up his insides.

Doug's stomach heaved at the sight. It was all he could do from spewing his supper over the Waldowin deck.

I don't want to be this, he thought. I don't want to be like this. But it was too late.

Waldowin fell to the deck.

"That's where you're wrong," Doug said in a long, shuddering breath. "I do know what you are."

But there was no one to reply except a woman screaming from inside the house.

Doug jumped over the side of the deck and fell into the darkness beyond. A moment later, the sound of the house alarm began to wail. Doug was already gone.

He couldn't get the thought out of his mind that he'd done something really terrible. He kept walking steadily until he was far away. There was no getting rid of the guilt. No getting rid of the self-hatred that threatened to consume him. He would have nightmares tonight.