Werewolf Hunting

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14th Day

Chapter Eighteen: The unexpected

Boewyn took a drink. Again.

"Well wasn't that a coinkidink." He noted.

Moody sighed,

"Yes, it was."

"So despite the fact we've screwed this whole mission thing to the depths of hell and back again, we have found another lead!" Boewyn rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"It seems my obsession with booze has helped once again!" Boewyn laughed triumphantly, throwing his hands into the air and looking up at the roof.

"Again?" Moody questioned dryly.

"Yes, again. Remember the gypsies? Yes, hello! Me there drinking in the pub, meeting Brishen? Getting help? Yeah, if I hadn't been drinking, I would never have met him and we'd still be stumbling around Langley! Hence, again!" Boewyn laughed again.

"I AM VICTORIOUS!"

"SHUT UP!" Moody shouted.

"BITE ME!"

Moody groaned.

"You would lose a battle of wits against a stuffed iguana."

"Would not"

"Would t… Wait! What am I saying? SHUT UP!"

"Fine…" there was a silence.

"Good." Moody sighed, "Now about that little conversation we just overheard"

Boewyn examined the light on the beside table, then tapped the base. It turned on. He gasped, and tapped it again. The light got brighter.

"Hey, hey lookit. Touch Lamp."

"You're are really out of it aren't you?"

"Are you kidding? Al, I'm dead smashed, I could win a 'who's the most convincing undead guy' competition against a vampire, a zombie and a banshee. I can't even remember my mother's maiden name. Hell I can't even remember her first name! I'm lucky I can remember MY name!"

"That's wonderful to know, Boewyn" Moody's voice was dry enough to use as sandpaper.

"Who you talking to?"

"…"

There was a silence which stretched out across time and space for an eternity. Moody stared determinedly at the ceiling, counting to 603. Boewyn played with the touch lamp some more.

"We should discuss what we just overheard" Boewyn suddenly announced.

Moody froze in place.

"You did not just say that"

"Say what?"

"You said. Basically the same thing. That I. Just said. To you." Moody was trying very, very hard not to hex this man into oblivion.

"Really? Well what a coinkidink. AND! Speaking of coinkidinks! Wasn't that conversation we overheard one? You know it's thanks to my obsession with booze that we heard that"

Moody just stared.

"You have got to be kidding me…"

"Me? I never kid! I merely goat" Boewyn laughed hysterically. "Geddit? Kids, Goats? A baby goat is called a kid? Geddit?"

Moody carefully reached for the lamp. Boewyn was still laughing away, lost in his own so called humorous drunken world.

Moody grabbed the lamp and hefted it up shifting his grip to one handed. Boewyn stumbled past, still laughing. Moody raised the lamp and swung for Boewyn's head.

Boewyn spun and grabbed Moody's hand that held the lamp, then twisted the man's arm sharply. An intricate movement and Moody was painfully facing the other wall, his arm twisted behind his back, a knife held against his throat. The lamp dropped to the ground.

"Don't screw with me, Alastor. Just because I look stupid doesn't mean I am. Now if we heard right we've got ourselves a lead. If those two work for this so called Dark Lord then we must be pretty close to where they've got the kid. But I have a hunch if we go rushing into this than that kid is dead. So settle down and loosen up. Geddit?" Boewyn ended that sentence in a falsely cheery voice.

Moody was frozen in place. He had never heard the Hunter talk like this before. Never. And quite frankly he was scared. The man's voice was cold and harsh. It was no longer the sickeningly, sugar high, booze induced voice, but the voice of one who has stared death in the face and lived to do it again and again. It was the voice of a man who will kill anyone who pisses him off just the right amount.

And Moody knew never to mess with anyone with a voice like that.

"Got it" he gasped, trying to ignore the fact that there was a very, very sharp knife held against his throat.

"Good. No problems then." Just as suddenly as Boewyn had become a cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch, the old Boewyn was back. He let Moody go and picked up the lamp. Putting it back in it's place on the bedside table.

"All my instincts are telling me to find which way those bastards went and go right after them." Moody sighed, rubbing his throat.

"And if they saw us earlier? And then saw us again not long after the first time?" Boewyn prompted as he lay along the double bed, the short way.

"They'd get suspicious" Moody's face twitched as he noted that Boewyn was barely big enough to reach all the way to both ends, his head only just hung off the end.

Boewyn brow furrowed as he watched Moody,

"Don't you dare say a word." He warned. If there was one thing Boewyn couldn't tolerate (besides someone trying to hit him with a lamp) was short people jokes and/or comments. Most who did regretted it, badly.

They regretting being born.

They regretted being conceived

They regretted their parents were born.

And if the didn't Boewyn hadn't done his job right and went back to ensure they regretted it.

Sometimes he went back to ensure they regretted it just in case.

No matter what, it was bad.

In fact Micah was the only one who could get away with the whole short person thing.

And that was only because he was useful.

"So what do we do then?" Moody couldn't believe he was asking this guy what to do. Although... Moody watched Boewyn thoughtfully fingering his knife which caught the light in an odd way... Now that Moody thought about he could believe it. With a passion.

Boewyn gave a funny shrug.

"Lie low here for a while I guess. Just so it doesn't look suss. They shouldn't be too hard to trace. Even if we have to duck back to Micah and get a magical tracer to find them. It's better then looking for them straight away and getting the kid, or us, killed.

Moody nodded, he did have a point.

"Fine, we'll stay here. Find out more about this place maybe, nearby towns, homes etc. Places where a Dark Lord could hide."

"Easy." Boewyn announced.

"Yeah"

The light caught off Boewyn's knife again and Moody could help but notice that the knife was more than just odd.

It was silver.

X'andirth: It's a Boewyn chapter! And by that I mean it's short!

Boewyn: Do you wish to die? Glares

X'andirth: It's the hard truth, Boe. Live with it. As to my readers, sorry it's shorter than usual, just getting some plot motion down. Don't think this story is getting near the end either. There's still quite a bit more to go before the end... getting there is my biggest problem at the moment. Sigh

Oh and credit for the 'you would lose a battle of wits against a stuffed iguana goes to Red Dwarf, that, and the 'mothers maiden name? I don't even know her first name' line is from Black Books Sigh The works of sheer geniuses. British Comedy has got to be one of the best comedies in the world. True fact!