Mystic Vice – Hunter's Moon
It was looking like tonight was going to be the same old routine.
Its ten to midnight and my colleagues and I are walking down the overgrown driveway of an old farm house. It was immediately obvious something was up. There's no reason for twenty something cars to be parked at an old, abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, unless it was something illegal. We can already hear the music blaring from inside, rattling the old timber walls, masking our approach. Colorful flashes of light issued from the windows, giving the old building a psychedelic impression. The only other light was from the moon, the hunter's moon.
Many supernatural creatures are in tune with the phases of the moon and whenever there is a full moon, there's a party, much to our dismay. This goes double for when it's the harvest and hunter's moon. The moon is so bright and huge that it makes just about every kind night creature want to come out and paint the town red.
This party was really kicking too. We could practically hear the music from the road. This really was a great spot for this kind of out of the way party. I doubt many people even knew this old farm house was out here, so far from the city limits. We would have to add it to our list of special interests.
I hugged myself beneath my jacket. It was unusually cold for this time of year, the chill of winter setting in early. We walked quietly down the path, keeping an eye on the house and the surrounding woods. Just because people were having a good time inside, doesn't mean that there wasn't anything dangerous going on.
To my left was Marissa, the department's resident brownnose. We didn't get along famously, but she did know her stuff and she never backed from a challenge, so I did like working with her in the field, just not in the office. She was maybe was half a head taller than me and her straight blonde hair was glowing in the moonlight.
To my right was Hector, our resident "funny man". He ragged on everyone, but in a good-natured sort of way, I think. He was average height and lean and his red hair formed a slight widow's peak. He looked like he was a cold as I was.
Leading the charge was Deacon, our resident action hero. Deacon lived and breathed the job. He was always the first person on the frontlines and the first to back you up when you needed it. He could be a little standoffish, but I always got the impression his heart was in the right place. Of course he was also the reason I was out here, freezing my well proportioned tookus off.
Deacon received a tip earlier this evening after a bust. The perp squealed after he was caught selling Morpheus Strips and told him about this party. The standard operation for a bust of this scale requires the entire squad to be present. We bust in the place, make a bunch of noise and let the party goers scurry out while we arrest the dealers and big time users. You can always spot them, everyone else is running and they're the ones scooping everything into bags. Pretty standard. There is always risk involved with these sorts of things, but we enchanted up before we even started down the path. Like I said, routine. We didn't even get a chance to stop for coffee.
We knew the tip was legit once we saw that the party had some muscle, one ogre and a barely competent warlock watching the road. That may have caused some trouble for the regular authorities, but not the Benandantis. One quick enchantment left them asleep and tied up at the entrance to the access roads.
We reached the property and each of us stealthily moved into our standard positions, at least one agent per entrance. Deacon stayed put at the front door, and the rest of us disappeared into the gloom, turning our radios on.
"Agent two, are you in position?" called Deacon, his voice scratchy.
"Agent two, backdoor," answered Marissa.
"Agent three, are you in position?" asked Deacon.
"Agent three, here at the side door," answered a bored man's voice. Hector.
"Agent four, are you in position?"
"Agent four, basement door," I answered, standing fifteen feet away from a set of old, slanted basement doors, in the houses overgrown backyard. The party was raging inside, completely ignorant of our presence.
Deacon called over the radio again. "On my mark-"
Two shots rang out, sharp and clear over the dance music.
"What was-?!"
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the building, knocking me flat on my ass. Chunks of wood and glass flew over my head. Dust and smoke filled the yard, obscuring the house. It got in my mouth and nose, making me hack and cough. I blew some of it away with a quick spell, while trying to call the other Benandantis, but I couldn't get through. Everyone was trying to use it at once, turning everything into a jumbled mess. I didn't see Marissa. What just happened?!
A wave of blind and disorientated partygoers came pouring out of the house, coughing and screaming. I couldn't even tell if they were human or not for all the dust. There was no point to chasing them down. I just hoped none of them were hurt. I rushed over to where Marissa was stationed, slashing my wand through the air, trying to clear a path through the dense cloud. She wasn't anywhere to be found. I could hear her voice in random burst over the radio. She must be inside. I rushed in.
Inside the house is chaos. My feet crunched on the glass and who knows what else. I could barely see anything. The party lights flashed wildly through the smoke, disorienting me more than helping. Everything is a mess. Comatose partygoers are lying all over the place amidst all of the broken furniture and other debris. Potion bottles have spilled and mixed, creating random effects along the way. The place reeked of spilled alcohol and mustiness. The heavy beat of the music is still coming from random spots. People are crying for help and rushing for the doors, grabbing their friends and belongings. I just want to find my squad mates. I want them to be ok.
"
Ballando Vento!
" cried Hector.
The dust blew away in the kitchen, making it a little easier to make my way around.
"You see anything Fitzgerald?" asked Hector, twisting in circles, scanning the room.
"Just a load of dazed people and a lot of property damage. It looks like most of them will be alright..." I answered, walking over to Hector, wand at the ready.
"You find the shooter?" called Marissa, carefully stepping over a minefield of spilled alcohol and broken bottles. Oh thank the Goddess.
"Not yet," I answered.
"I think I found the victim," said Hector.
Hector was standing in a small hallway, off to the side of the kitchen. On the floor was a woman, about mid-twenties, laying face down on the ground, head cocked to the side. She had dyed red hair and was wearing a matching red top and miniskirt. She wasn't wearing any underwear. Blood was pooling beneath her, staining the musty carpet. There were two bullet holes right through the center of her chest. There was no saving her now, she was dead as soon as the first shot hit.
She was also a werewolf.
A thin layer of fur covered her from head to toe and her nails and teeth were long and sharp, strong enough to tear through a wooden door if she wanted. Along with all that she had the build of an Olympic athlete. She must have undergone the change pretty quickly; the muscle had stretched and torn her clothes. This must not of been her first change.
Some of the lore about werewolves is true, but there are a few things that most people don't know about them. One is that they can change anytime, but it's hard to suppress it during the full moon if they don't want or need to transform. The other is that after their first change, when they change they become stronger and more bestial, but they don't transform into wolves or half wolf creatures.
Their first transformation though, that's the scary one. That's the one all of the legends are written about.
The first time a werewolf changes, they turn into a half human, half wolf creature. They become a wild animal, their instincts screaming at them to satisfy all of their base desires with the strength of half a dozen men to help. A werewolf undergoing their first transformation is a terrifying thing that only a few have witnessed and lived to tell the story. Some small part of me has always wanted to see the change, but I count myself lucky that I haven't.
"Who is she?" asked Marissa, more to herself than the group.
"Gloria Stern," answered Deacon, walking up to us. He was carrying his gnomish pistol instead of his wand. "She's not from around here. She was originally in a pack registered in Wilmington Delaware, but was thrown out six months ago. She had a nasty habit of converting people without the pack's, or our, authorization. After the second one, she was officially denounced. Our chapter started keeping a close eye on her as soon as she came across the state line."
I walked past her and began inspecting the other rooms, wand at the ready, looking for any victims or the shooter.
"Like we don't have enough to take care of. Its going to be a nightmare to try and collect any usable evidence in all of this chaos," complained Marissa, looking over her shoulder.
"We have bigger problems than that," I said. The rest of my squad mates traipsed down the hall towards me and I pointed into one of the bedrooms.
Lying on the bed was a young man, Asian, wearing a half-torn button down shirt and pair of black slacks and boxer briefs pulled down around his ankles. He was hugging his torso and groaning in pain, oblivious to our arrival. On his collar bone were four fresh puncture marks, slowly leaking blood. We were all thinking the same thing, that Gloria Stern's fangs would fit those punctures perfectly.
"Do you think he was the one who shot her?" I asked, trying to spot the weapon.
"Maybe," answered Marissa. "But unless those bullets were silver, she shouldn't be dead."
"Right..." I muttered absently. "I'm going to give him a hand. Watch my back."
I tucked my wand away and stepped into the room.
"Sir, look at me," I said to him, putting a hand on his good shoulder. He didn't respond. His eyes were half rolled up, pain lines etched on his face.
"He's not doing so hot," I said, not taking my eyes off of him. You just never know with these supernatural cases. "We need to get him out of here. Someone give me a hand."
