“We’ve established that. We’ve also established that it’s stupid.”
“Becoming a better person is stupid?”
“Maybe the concept isn’t, but the ideas you’re throwing out there are.”
“Well, my brain isn’t working at full capacity right now, okay? Give me a break. You should be encouraging me.”
“Fine. Be a scary clown.”
“I don’t mean the clown thing. But if I have a major life epiphany, a positive one, you shouldn’t sit there and make fun of it. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You make fun of me for ordering a diet soda! Don’t pretend that you’re some self-improvement cheerleader. Our relationship is based on blunt honesty, and my bluntly honest opinion is that you’re being an idiot. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be affected by what happened, but do I believe that you’re going to become Santa Claus? Hell no.”
“I think you could stand to be more affected by all of this.”
“I’m compartmentalizing.”
“Fine. We’ll let the whole thing drop.”
“Good idea.”
“Are you sure you’re not bleeding to death?”
“As far as I know.”
“How much further?”
They’d found a mustard-stained road map underneath the back seat. Lou ran his finger along it. “A few more blocks.”
“I hope these guys know what they’re doing. What I really hope is that they let me pull the trigger when they’ve got Ivan in their sights. That’d be sweet.”
“Right. We’ve performed so well up to this point, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to turn the responsibility right back over to us, just to keep our high self-esteem intact.”
“I can fantasize, at least. God, I hate Ivan.”
George still wasn’t one hundred percent certain that they should be driving to the rendezvous point. The idea that one of the professionals would say “Lost the werewolf, huh? Time for you to die,” and put a bullet in each of their brains seemed like a legitimate concern. But ultimately, much like the rhetorical question of pigeons crapping on your car versus alligators eating your limbs, it came down to the certainty of a life spent hiding from vengeful criminals versus the potential of being executed for incompetence. If the reinforcements successfully recaptured Ivan, it would be much better to be hanging out with them at the time than to get the news from Ricky.
And, to be safe, they’d make sure the reinforcements knew that George and Lou hadn’t shared all of their werewolf wisdom.
“I think it’s this next one,” said Lou, pointing with a bloody finger.
Like Ricky had said, the address was just a small parking lot. As soon as they turned in, a white van with “Ray’s Air Conditioning” on the side pulled out of one of the spaces and drove forward. A man in a tan jumpsuit got out of the passenger side and beckoned to them. George looked at Lou, shrugged, and then pulled into the newly vacated space.
George shut off the engine. “Well, if we get shot, I just want you to know that it’s been a pleasure working with you.”
“If we get shot, I won’t be able to say the same.”
They got out of the car. The man, who looked about fifty and sported a brown handlebar mustache, whistled in amazement. “The wolf did that to you?”
“Most of it, yeah,” said George. “Some of mine came from dogs.”
“You should’ve been more cautious.”
“Yeah, we figured that out once we started bleeding all over the place. I’m George, and this is Lou.”
“I’ve got a question for you, George.”
“Sure.”
“Do you think it’s better use of our time to get in the van and get moving, or to stand out here introducing ourselves?”
What a dick. “Fair enough. Let’s go.”
The man slid open the side door, revealing a woman in a similar tan jumpsuit. She was in her thirties, had her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and would have been extremely attractive if she didn’t have such a sour expression. She held a crossbow on her lap.
George nodded at her politely and they got in the van. The man slid the door closed behind them, almost slamming it shut on Lou’s foot.
There were two rows of seats. Out of consideration for Lou’s more extensive injuries, George climbed into the back seat. Lou sat down next to the woman, eyeing her crossbow nervously. There was no room in this van for the cage even if Ivan hadn’t stole it; Ricky could just suck it.
The driver, who looked like a college kid, turned around and gave them a salute that seemed more than a little condescending. Just stay polite, George told himself. You need these people. It’ll all be okay.
The handlebar mustache guy got into the front passenger seat. “Let’s go.”
“Yes, sir.”
The van sped out of the parking lot fast enough to make George momentarily lose his balance. He fastened the seatbelt.
“Now is the appropriate time for introductions,” said the handlebar mustache guy. “I’m Prescott.”
“Angie,” said the woman.
“Sam.”
“Nice to meet you,” said George. “Is it okay that we’re getting blood all over your van?”
Prescott shrugged. “It’s had worse.”
“So you’re the mighty werewolf hunters?”
“We hunt what needs to be hunted.”
“But have you specifically hunted a werewolf before?”
“What do you think?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I asked.”
Prescott gave him a look of pure contempt, as if George were the stupidest human being ever to reside on the planet. “Of course we haven’t.”
George snickered. “Ah. I get it. You don’t quite believe in what you’re hunting yet. That’s where we were not too long ago. You’ll learn.”
“I’m sure we will. Why don’t you start the education process by answering some questions?”
“What do you want to know?”
“What are its capabilities?”
“Well, first of all, he’s a human being who can instantly change into a wolf-creature. That’s a pretty big capability.”
“Please don’t editorialize. Just the facts.”
Dick. “Fact: my partner and I shot him several times, close range, in the frickin’ head, and it didn’t kill him.”
“Did it injure him?”
“Not a lot.”
“But it did injure him?”
“He bled and reacted with pain, yes.”
“What kind of bullets did you use?”
“Regular old lead bullets. I don’t suppose you guys have silver ones, do you?”
“No. They’re not something you can get quickly, even with our connections. Not a lot of call for silver bullets in the real world. We’d have to make them ourselves. We’ve got somebody on that, but it won’t happen today.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“Are there any other weaknesses we should know about?”
“Possibly.”
Angie, who had been glaring at him the entire time, tightened her grip on the crossbow. “I’d hate to think that you were trying to withhold information to make yourselves indispensable.” Her voice sounded like she’d been a chain smoker her entire life. No, worse than that, it sounded like she extinguished cigarettes on the back of her throat.
“Would I do something like that?”
“For your sake, I hope not.”
“Relax,” said Prescott. “We wouldn’t take you out even if we wanted to.”
“Good to know.”
“After all, we may need bait.”
Serving as bait didn’t sound like much fun, but George would take it over an execution any day. Prescott looked as if he really wanted to watch George cringe at that idea, so George made sure to maintain a casual front. “Sounds fine. Happy to help.”