Arnold sat behind his desk, staring at his phone, frowning. He had just tried to call his stepson, Jackie, to check up on him, but the boy never answered.
By now, Jackie should be done with his part-time job, but it wasn't like there could be other, NORMAL reasons he didn't answer. It could be he didn't even notice the call. It's happened before. But considering the latest weirdness, a war brewing between vampires and werewolves, the police detective couldn't help but be worried.
Just as he was about to make another attempt though, the phone on his desk rang. It was the chief, telling him to come by his office at once.
Arnold answered, "Sure thing." But he considered disregarding his superior's sense of urgency in order to try to call Jackie one more time. He didn't get the chance to, thanks to the timely appearance of the station's own sour accountant.
"Chief just called," Tom Waller explained. "Said it's important and that I should bring you too. Don't know why, though. He could've just called you himself."
That Chief Martin, thought Arnold. It's as if he already knew what I was thinking.
With no other choice, Arnold set the phone down on the desk, got off his chair, and followed Tom to the Chief of Police's office. He didn't see the phone silently shake as the screen lit up with the words, "Incoming call: Granny Tsing".
"What we've feared has come to pass," Chief Martin declared. "Skirmishes have popped up all over the city between vampires and werewolves. Most got off with minor to somewhat serious injuries on both sides, but there was a fatality at the South-East district. A werewolf. According to a spy of mine in the community, it's got even the more docile wolves riled up. Gangs are retaliating even as we speak. We need to step up our game and make sure it doesn't get any worse."
"Easier said than done," Tom grumbled. "Sounds like we're already past the point of no return."
"I disagree," said the Chief. "There's always a chance to cool things down, as long as we act."
"So what do you want us to do?" asked Arnold.
"I want you to head over to where the werewolf community will be holding a meeting. You don't have to sit in. Just drive around the area. You being there should be enough to keep them from getting reckless. Take this with you."
From his desk, Chief Martin pulled something out and handed it to Arnold.
Arnold looked at it curiously. "A badge? But I already got one."
"It's a special kind of badge," the Chief explained. "It shows that you're a special kind of cop."
"A special kind of cop?"
"He means the kind of cops that deal with witches, spooks, Shifters, and things like that," Tom said. "Witch hunters and monster hunters, basically."
"But I don't know how to hunt monsters," Arnold said.
With a mischievous grin, Chief Martin pointed out, "We know that, but they don't."
"So I guess we're going with some light scare tactics," Arnold surmised. He replaced his old badge for the new one on his belt and gave the old one to the Chief for safekeeping. "Got it."
"I'll have Baseville tell you where to go. He's a werewolf on the force. Let me just give him a quick call." Chief Martin reached for the phone, but stopped when Tom spoke up.
"Baseville? I saw him leave the station about an hour ago. It looked like he was in a hurry."
"I didn't know Baseville's a werewolf," Arnold said. "I've known him for years! I never even noticed. I don't think even Jackie noticed and he's played cards with him whenever I invited him over."
"Well, of course not," said Tom. "Things like werewolves and vampires don't stick around this long as just fairy tales to everyone else without being good at hiding."
"I guess that's why he's normally on Search and Rescue. But then, isn't it a problem to have him part of the team handling the crime scene for the Jim Drake Jr. case?"
Chief Martin stared. "Baseville was at the scene?"
Arnold nodded. "He was there in uniform when I came to check the place out. Why?"
"None of the werewolves are allowed to step foot there. I ordered it that way."
Tom groaned. He could feel it from the deepest pits of his stomach. Things were getting from bad to worse. Heaven, he silently prayed to, help anyone unlucky to get mixed up in this mess.
**********
Just as Circe thought, the person emerging from the trees was a werewolf. Like Roger, he was tall, with a canine head. But Roger's fur was gray. This werewolf was ink-black. Also, his clothes still held firm, which, to Circe's surprise, was a police uniform.
"Wait!” Jackie took a few steps towards the black-furred werewolf. "Officer Baseville? You’re a werewolf?”
“Well, this is a surprise,” said the werewolf Jackie called Baseville. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Jackie. And I’m surprised you recognize me, even when I look like this. How?”
Jackie blinked. His eyes were wide for a moment and then shifted around. “Well . . .”
Less reserved, Morgan bluntly pointed out, “Dude, you’re still wearing a name tag.”
Baseville looked down. “Right. Well, this is embarrassing.”
“What are you doing here?” Circe demanded. “And why bring an army?”
“‘Army’ is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Baseville held his hands (well, claws) up. “Don’t worry. I may look like this right now, but what I’m doing is strictly police business. You’re Roger Nettles, aren’t you? You got my name already, but let me introduce myself. I’m Officer Baseville. I’m part of the Search and Rescue team. So are my buddies hanging back. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Why?” asked Roger.
Baseville scratched the side of his head while flashing an awkward-filled crooked smile. “Why? Well, it’s sort of in my team’s name. There was a report you got lost in the woods here, so me and my team came to look for you and rescue you. That’s what we do.”
“So, you’re here to take me home? Well, forget it,” said Roger. “I can’t go home. Not like this.”
“That’s no problem.” Swiftly, Baseville shrank. His black fur receded, leaving bare pink skin. Atop his head was a crown of mouse-brown hair around a smooth bald spot. His canine snout morphed back into a flat nose and puffy pale lips. Although looking lean and fit earlier as a wolf, he was now pot-bellied with round, flabby cheeks. “As you can see, we can change our form whenever we like. I can teach you how, if you’ll come with us.”
“Really?” Roger was filled with blatant excitement. “In that case, of course I’ll-!”
“Wait!” Jackie cut in. He stepped between the two werewolves and fixed sharp eyes on Baseville’s beady ones. “Something doesn’t sit right with me. I’ve seen up close how powerful a nose Roger got. You guys should have found him a long time ago. Why wait until now to come get him? And why have us surrounded? If you were just here for search and rescue, I would’ve expected you all to be staying in one direction. There should be no need to wait until we’re boxed in before coming out to talk to us.”
Baseville sagged his shoulders in dismay. “Come on, Jackie. You know me. I’ve worked together with your dad for years! Why get so suspicious?”
“Because I know you,” Jackie said. “And I know surrounding a rescue target is not how search and rescue teams do things. At least not in such a tight formation. A by-the-book sort of cop like you would never allow something like that.”
The others exchanged looks and quickly put up their guard. Roger crouched down and growled. A gust of wind howled around Circe as she drew out psychic power from within. Boney flexed its fingers, causing the joints to pop before making big fists. As for Morgan, she just looked left and right at everyone with no clue what to do.
“What are you really here for?” Jackie asked.
Baseville opened his mouth and then closed it. After a brief pause, he heaved a heavy sigh. “There’s really no hiding anything from you, huh Jackie? But I guess I should've expected that, seeing how I never could bluff my way through a game of cards with you.”
Slowly, more and more wolves showed themselves. Some wore jeans and t-shirts. Others were dressed in denim overalls. There was one still wearing a white hard hat from a construction gig and another wearing the pants of his firefighting suit. Some were gray-furred like Roger while others were black-furred like Baseville was. There were a few brown wolves, and even one white wolf.
None of them spoke. They all just glared at the gang and growled.
Morgan looked left and right at all the werewolves. "What's going on? Why are they looking at us like they want to attack us?"
"Because they want to attack us," Circe said, glaring back at the werewolves.
"No one wants to attack you," Baseville insisted. "As long as you come quietly, no one needs to get hurt."
"Does this have to do with the war building up between the werewolves and the vampires?" asked Jackie. "Is that why you're here for Roger?"
"What? But I have nothing to do with that!"
"Don't lie!" barked the werewolf in the firefighter uniform. Fiery hate filled his eyes as he kept Roger squarely in his sight. "I was there! At the crime scene. Your scent was all over it! You're the one who took down Drake!"
"Vampires attacked my sister and her family, looking for the wolf that did it."
"A werewolf has already died. More will too if the fighting keeps up."
"My son could be next."
"My best friend is in the hospital. It's your fault!"
Morgan could not take the overlapping chorus of accusations and hate directed at her boyfriend lying down. "Roger didn't do any of that! The vampires did! They're the ones picking a fight with you, so why are you blaming him?"
"Because he started it!" The werewolves screamed back. "He took down Drake! Now the vampires want revenge. Now us werewolves are at war!"
"But it's not me!" Roger cried out. "I didn't do it!"
"We will let the vampires decide that," Baseville said grimly.
"What?" Jackie stared at him in disbelief. Color drained from his face and he cried out in dismay, "No, you can't!"
"What? What's going on, Jackie?" asked Circe. "What is it that they're planning?"
Jackie didn't look back. His glowering eyes were glued to Baseville's. "They plan to hand Roger over to the vampires."
