Shifters Chapter 12

Morgan stared at the empty space where the mysterious masked witch stood moments before. Numb in the head from all the extraordinary (and absolutely, terrifyingly, scary) things that had transpired a few minutes ago, she didn’t feel like moving at all until once more, she heard crunching leaves and snapping twigs accompanying approaching footsteps. She turned expecting to find that gentleman the witch mentioned. But instead, to her surprise, she found Circe running up to her. 

"There you are!" Circe stopped and bent down on buckled knees, gasping and wheezing. Her face was pink and she was drenched in sweat. She looked as if she had run the whole way up the hill and into the wilderness without stopping.

"What are you doing here?" Morgan asked. 

Her bewilderment annoyed Circe.

"I was looking for you, of course!"

It was a good thing she found that mutant bird with red feathers and a crocodile head loitering on a tree branch at the edge of the wilderness. Without its help, she doubted she could find Morgan so quickly.

Morgan, surprised and confused, asked, "Really? Why?"

"Because," Circe answered hoarsely, "even though I really, really hate you, you are not worth a guilty conscience."

"A guilty conscience?"

After recovering enough breath, Circe explained how she had to fight off a pair of vampires who attacked her after mistaking her for a werewolf because of the smell from Roger's room and how she feared Morgan would be attacked for the same reason, which was why she rushed to find her. But looking at Morgan now, Circe had to ask: "Were you just rolling around in the mud?"

"No! Of course not!" Morgan shouted in dismay. 

Then came her turn to tell her story. She gave Circe a brief summary of her own encounter with vampires and how she was saved by a mysterious witch.

Circe listened feeling a mix of horror, relief and intrigue. She was horrified to find out how very close Morgan came to losing her life, relieved she got out of trouble unscathed, and was intrigued by the appearance of a masked savior. Who was that witch? She wondered. And then she thought, Well, that’s not important right now.

“Come on,” said Circe. “We should get going before those vampires decide to come back and finish what they started.”

But Morgan said, “Oh, we don’t have to worry about that.”

“We don’t?” Circe looked at Morgan, puzzled. “Why? How can you be so sure?”

“Because of the gentleman that’s supposed to be coming.”

“What gentleman?” Circe asked.

Before Morgan could reply, a voice cut in and said, “I believe that would be me.”

The girls were both startled and jumped. They turned to see who had spoken and found a man in a trench coat and short brim hat standing a few feet away with one of his gloved hands resting atop an elegant T-shaped cane. His face was Asian and middle aged. His accent gave away that English was not his first language. When he took off his hat in a polite gesture, his black hair was exposed, swept back by gel.

Morgan had never seen this man before, but she could tell by the way he was dressed and standing that this must be the gentleman that the witch had mentioned earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Circe cried out in surprise and fear. Unlike Morgan, she had seen this gentleman before. He had shown up out of the blue, pulling a sword out of that cane of his to chop down Donatello Putts. He didn’t do that in the end thanks to persuasion from Jackie and Tom Waller, but he made it clear to everyone in the room that he would not be so nice next time.

“I noticed a disturbance in the air and came to see what had happened,” explained the gentleman. “Imagine my surprise to see a familiar face here. I hope this does not mean my warning to you and the others have gone unheeded.”

He gave Circe a piercing stare that made her blood run cold. She shivered, but resisted the urge to look away.

Morgan looked from the gentleman to Circe. “Uh . . . You two know each other?”

“To an extent,” said the gentleman. “And you are?”

Morgan told the gentleman her name.

The gentleman nodded his head and gave his own self-intro. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Morgan. My name is Arthur Liu, a visitor from far away, here to investigate disturbances of the strange kind. As I mentioned earlier, I noticed one here and came to see what happened."

"Well, actually-" Morgan stopped. She remembered what the witch had said: that this guy was supposed to be a good guy, but also scary dangerous, especially to monsters. He didn't look all that scary or dangerous, though. Actually, now that she thought about it, how could she be so sure this guy is actually the gentleman the witch was talking about? For all she knew, the witch could have been talking about a completely different gentleman. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry and not say too much this time.

"Yes?" asked Arthur Liu. "Is something wrong? You are suddenly quiet."

A quick sharp elbow from Circe snapped Morgan awake. "Oh! Sorry! Right, where was I? Oh, yeah! You wanted to know if we saw anything strange, right? Sorry, but nope. Nothing strange here. Not a single strange thing."

Arthur Liu stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Really? Nothing at all?"

Morgan nodded her head so hard and fast, she was afraid it would fall off.

"And what about you?" Arthur asked Circe.

"I just got here," was her reply. "And you know that I see strange things every day right? What exactly kind of disturbance are you looking into now, anyway?"

"A monster had been pulled into our world,” said Arthur. “Someone had done it on purpose. I don’t know why, but I cannot ignore it.”

Oh, this guy's definitely the gentleman alright, thought Morgan, now sure. He's definitely talking about that Grim Reaper monster the witch had called out to scare the vampires.

“I don’t get it,” said Circe. “You’re talking about Egregors, right? I thought Egregors are just invisible to most people, but you’re telling me they actually come from another world?”

“Their invisibility is a complicated thing,” said Arthur. “Yes, they can touch things and move things around even while invisible. But at the same time, they are like ghosts. Humans do not notice them and they do not notice humans. Most of the time, anyway. But a magic spell like the one I sensed can change that, and it will lead to widespread chaos if left unchecked.”

“I . . . don’t understand a single thing that just came out of your mouth,” Morgan said honestly. “But I can tell it’s supposed to be something bad.”

“It is,” said Arthur. “I’ve seen the damage such a thing has caused.”

He took a look around and then looked up at the trees before lowering his gaze to the ground where several thick branches laid scattered.

“Quite a lot of people got hurt,” he continued. “Many died. A whole city was basically wiped out.”

He returned his gaze to the girls, particularly Morgan.

“By the way, you mentioned expecting a gentleman to show up. Not to sound like a narcissist, but I assume that gentleman is me. How did you know that I was coming?”

"Huh? Uh . . . Well . . . " Morgan struggled to come up with something, but it was hard for her to think on the spot. That was when Circe came to the rescue.

"We actually weren't expecting you," Circe said quickly. "We were expecting a teammate."

Arthur tilted his head to the side. "A teammate?"

“Yeah,” said Circe. She threw Morgan a meaningful stare.

Morgan didn’t understand what Circe was talking about, but then it dawned on her and she added to Circe’s lie with a rapid explanation. “Oh! That’s right! Teammate! You hear about that guy who went missing? He was last seen around this area. Me and Circe here are part of a group of volunteers who’re out looking for him. We all split into teams. Everyone’s been calling him a gentleman because of how he’s like, a real upstanding kind of guy.”

Arthur rubbed his chin between his fingers again. “I see. That would explain why there are so many signs of people passing through this far out of civilization. And why you two are here.”

“Y-yeah! Yeah!” Morgan affirmed eagerly. She was excited to see him buying the lie.

But then he pointed out: “But it seems like you two and I are the only ones in the entire hill. I find it hard to believe that just three people alone, and two of them very young ladies at that, would be responsible for looking through so wide a place. That sounds, dare I say, dangerous and irresponsible?”

“That’s because . . . Well . . .” Morgan faltered. Now what? She wondered throwing a look at Circe.

“The others went home already!” Circe swiftly blurted out. “But we decided to stick around a little bit longer. The others didn’t like that, but we were able to get them to let us keep looking thanks to the gentleman volunteering to look after us.”

“And where is this gentleman right now?” asked Arthur. “Why is he not with you?”

Unbeknownst to each other, Circe and Morgan both had the same exact thoughts: Why won’t this guy just stop asking questions and go away already?

“He needed to go get something from the car,” Morgan said. “That’s why he’s not here right now. But he should be back soon.”

That was as big a hint as any that she wanted Arthur to go away. But to her annoyance, he continued to poke holes in the girls’ lies.

While bending forward over his cane and tilting his head sideways, he said, “Oh, but how odd. I saw no cars on my way here. Does that not mean there is no gentleman here at all?”

It took all of Morgan’s willpower not to scream at him to leave already. Circe shut her lips tight to stifle a groan. 

Arthur Liu chuckled. "Well, no matter," he said, straightening up. "I think I've teased the two of you enough."

The girls blinked. "Teased?"

And then it dawned on Circe. "You knew we were lying from the beginning!"

"Of course," said Arthur. "I already know exactly what's going on. I know that a high ranking vampire was murdered by a werewolf, angering the other vampires of the city to go on werewolf hunts. And I know that the two of you were attacked because you carried the scent of a werewolf on you, which I believe is from the missing boy you two are looking for."

Furious, Circe demanded, "If you knew everything, why play these games?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's amusing to watch children like yourselves struggle to outwit me."

Never before did Circe want to punch someone in the face so badly. Not even Morgan infuriated her this much.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this," Arthur continued, the amused twinkle in his eyes gone, "but you two are getting mixed up in something very dangerous. You should stop while you can. Because the next time you get in trouble, there might not be anyone to rescue you."

That actually sounded like good advice to Circe. She was all for stopping. However, to her dismay (but not surprisingly), Morgan replied: “Thanks for the warning, but I’m not going to stop.”

Stone-faced, Arthur asked, “Is that boy really so important to you? He is a werewolf. For all you know, he could be a mindless beast now, dead entirely except of body."

"That boy has a name!" Morgan said heatedly. "It's Roger! And yes, he is that important to me. I love him! It doesn't matter if he's a werewolf or not. And I know he is still alive. Not just in body, but mind and soul!"

Arthur sighed and shook his head, as if in pity. "So stubborn."

And yet, as he turned away, Circe thought she saw hint of a smirk, as if things were going the way he wanted it to.

"Very well," said the man with the cane. "I have given you my warning. Whether you heed it or not is entirely on you. As are the consequences of the choices you make from it. I have wasted enough time here."

Without another word, he spun at his heels, turning his back to the girls and walked away. The girls watched in silence until he was gone.

At that moment, Circe faltered. She had gotten dizzy, not realizing she had been holding her breath for too long. She quickly gulped in some air, and then sighed in relief before looking up at the sky which was rapidly turning dark.

Turning to Morgan, she said, "You can stay here all night, if you want, but I'm heading home."

And that's exactly what she did. Morgan followed without a word. 

Thanks to the help of her freaky little guide, they navigated through the wilderness and made it back to the viewpoint without any problems. But as soon as she stepped onto the pavement, Circe abruptly stopped. Morgan didn't and bumped into her.

"Ow!" Her nose hit the back of Circe's head hard. "Damn it! What did you do that for?"

Circe didn't answer. She didn't even notice Morgan. Nor did she pay any attention to the ten-foot tall skeleton with comically large hands and feet standing in front of her. Her eyes were fixed ahead at the much smaller and less robust figure standing next to the skeleton.

No way, she thought. This can't be happening. He can't be here. Why is he here?

He, standing before Circe, shivering in the cold air that was only getting colder with the approach of night, was Jackie Li.

<== Chapter 11                                                                                                            Chapter 13 ==>

Shifters Chapter 11

Circe ran down the sidewalk alongside the winding road of a suburban neighborhood, spewing out puffs of frosted breath and foul language. 

"Damn it!" she shouted. "Where could she be?" 

"She", being Morgan.

Circe had just come out of the Nettles House after meeting Benjamin who was pretty surprised to see her back so soon. He asked if something was wrong, but Circe lied and said that she had something of Morgan's that she needed to return.

"She wouldn't happen to be inside right now, would she?" 

Circe really hoped she was, but to her dismay, Benjamin answered, "No. She did come back, but then quickly left after asking me some questions. I would've thought she'd have gone home by now."

Unfortunately, Circe had no idea where Morgan lived. And neither did Benjamin.

After getting Morgan's phone number from him, Circe left. But of course, as soon as she tried calling, she got a recorded message saying the phone was not in service. There could be plenty reasons for that. The phone could be off (Yeah, right. No one turns off their phones these days). Its batteries could be dead (Also impossible, Circe knew, because Morgan was seen plenty of times carrying around at least two portable chargers.). It could be broken (Circe really hoped it wasn't, because that would be a really, really bad sign right now). Or it was out of service range.

Circe stopped.

"That's it! The viewpoint!"

This all started at the viewpoint. Doubtlessly, the whole hillside was searched from top to bottom. But being a stubborn idiot, Morgan was sure to check it out for herself anyway. 

But the viewpoint was on the very outskirts of the city, much further away than Chinatown. Reaching there by bus and on foot would take AT LEAST an hour. But Circe had no choice. All she had was twenty dollars, not even close to enough to afford a cab ride. She could only hope she could reach Morgan in time before any vampires do.

**********

The vampire boss whipped around faster than Morgan could blink. But suddenly she stopped, the tips of her claws just shallowly sunk into the collar of Morgan's coat. A second passed and then the vampire zoomed backwards high into the air, tearing the coat's collar in the process. She crashed through tree after tree, after tree until she hit one thick and sturdy enough to endure the impact. 

Despite the pain to her back, the vampire boss landed on her feet on the ground. She looked up at her followers and their captive. Even from far away, the dumbfounded looks on all of their faces was as clear as day. Realizing that none of them had caused her impromptu flight, she quickly straightened up and looked around with angry eyes.

"Who did that?" she yelled. "Where are you? Show yourself!"

There was silence for a moment. And then someone whistled from afar.

"I'm impressed," echoed in a young woman's voice. "Even for vampires, a crash like that must hurt a lot. You must be a lot sturdier than most to be standing after that."

The vampire boss spun around, ears strained, but she could not pinpoint where that voice was coming from. And the only thing she could smell with her super-nose were herself, her followers, Morgan and the nature around them. Nothing else.

"Stop hiding, coward!" she shouted.

Laughter came from all around, as if the mysterious woman was everywhere, in all directions, all at once. Wind from afar, white swirled towards the spot between the vampire boss and the rest of the people gathered, picking up particles of snow along the way. Round and round the gusts went around each other into a funnel of white that looked almost like a great, big tree taller than any in the local wilderness only to pop like a balloon. 

Morgan felt a burst of cold air slam into her. She and the vampires holding her all fell to the ground, seated on the mud as they stared in paralyzing fear at what had appeared before them.

As strips of snow dropped down and faded around it, a large human-shaped figure floated over the ground, shrouded from head to toe in black fabric that was tattered and torn to strips at the edges. It looked as if the personification of Death itself had appeared before them all. No wonder that Morgan and the vampires found it so frightening.

"Who's hiding?" said the figure.

The vampire boss, the only one unimpressed by the ominous being looking down on her, responded with a scowl, "Who else but you? Do you take me for a fool, witch? Do you think I don't know a puppet when I see one?"

"For the record, it's not a puppet," said the woman. "It's an Egregor."

"Whatever it is, it's not scaring me!" shouted the vampire boss.

Again, the witch laughed. "Oh, it's not meant to scare you. Just distract you enough for me to catch you off-guard."

The figure lifted up its hand which, when the sleeve of its robe dropped down to the elbow, was revealed to be just blackened bones. With its fingers, it made a loud snap and suddenly, all the other vampires flew straight up into the air before being flung over to their boss's side. Unlike their boss, the vampires went splat on the ground either flat on their stomachs or on their backs. Morgan was the only one left where she was.

Once she realized she was free, she thought about running away. But before she actually could, the witch spoke to her. "If you're going to run, my dear, might I suggest you run that way?"

The bones shrouded in black pointed left.

"Just keep going straight and you'll be back at the viewpoint."

Morgan looked where the Egregor pointed and hesitated.

As if the witch read her mind, she added, "You're not going to find what you're looking for here. By now, he's long gone from this place. My recommendation: get back to the other witch. She is your best bet at finding that which is most important to you. You understand who I'm talking about don't you?"

Morgan nodded. There aren't a lot of witches in her life, so it was pretty easy to guess."

"Now go."

"Hold it!" shouted the vampire boss. "Do you really think I'll just let you go that easy? Any of you?"

"You have no chance and you have no choice," said the witch. "You should be grateful I showed up when I did."

"And why's that?" the vampire boss asked scathingly. 

"Don't you know who has come to this city?" asked the witch. "A very dangerous man from far, far away is here on a mission. He is notably tolerant of Shifters, but he won't turn a blind eye to the slaying of innocent girls. He would have slaughtered you all if I had not stopped you."

The vampires all looked at one another, alarmed. But their boss continued to glare at the floating cloaked figure. "I don't believe you," she said.

"Really?" the witch inquired. "Not even as you sense him approaching? Come now. Surely, you can smell it. The stench of blood and death. It is the kind of scent made permanent after countless killing, decades of killing if not centuries of it. He is sure to notice the ruckus I just made and will want to see what is going on for himself. I don't need to tell you how bad things will get when he sees all this."

"She's right," one vampire whispered to the boss. "I can smell blood, the bad kind of smell, getting closer and closer."

The vampire boss gave her underling a glance. She could see the nervousness in his eyes, but she remained defiant. "It's just one man! We outnumber him. I'm sure we can handle him."

"Maybe you can," said the witch. "But some of your followers will surely die. Can you live with yourself if even one of those under your care perish?"

Once more the vampire boss looked at her underlings, before throwing one last glare at the floating set of black robes.

"Fine," she said. "We'll back off."

She threw a glare at Morgan too.

"Let your little wolf friend know that he and all his little wolf buddies will get what they deserve. Count on it."

She turned her back to the floating black phantom and Morgan, and began to walk away. Her followers all stepped to the side to let her through before walking closely behind at her heels. They left at a steady pace. But when Morgan blinked, they all vanished as if everything that just happened was a dream this whole time.

"You okay?"

Morgan jumped. She looked and saw the black robes beside her. It was close enough for her to see under the hood. A skull stained greenish black stared back at her.

With a yell, Morgan jumped, fell and planted her rear on the mud. She didn't care and slid across in a frantic backwards crawl.

A woman's chuckle came from the floating black robed skeleton.

"Sorry, sorry," said the witch's voice. "I nearly forgot how scary this guy looks."

White wind gathered around the Grim Reaper and coccooned it, before popping like a balloon. The skeleton contained in black robes was no more. Floating in its place was a slender woman in a black ball gown with tight long sleeves and frilled cuffs. Velvet black gloves covered small, delicate fingers while a domino mask covered a pale white face. The eye holes of the mask were covered by black glass, hiding the woman's eyes from view. Her lipstick was also black, as was the wide-brimmed hat that hid her hair and the whole back of her head.

"Better?" she asked with a smile.

It was loads better than the skeleton, thought Morgan. She answered with a nod.

"Good," the witch said, pleased. But then she frowned with concern and asked, "You're not hurt anywhere are you? I hope I caught that demoness' claws in time."

"Oh, um, yeah," said Morgan. "I'm fine. Your timing couldn't have been more perfect. Well, actually, I'd have liked it if you showed up a little bit earlier."

"Quite the honest one, aren't you?" said the witch. "Since it appears you are unharmed, I will call this a job well done and be on my way."

"Wait!" Morgan cried.

The witch had turned but stopped. "You heard what I said, didn't you? Someone will be here soon. Don't worry. He will keep you safe. Despite what I said, he is a good man, and a perfectly good gentleman."

But Morgan shook her head. "That's not it. Well, whoever you were talking about earlier sounds absolutely terrifying. But more importantly, you're a powerful witch."

The witch chuckled. "I'm flattered, but I wouldn't call myself very powerful."

"But you're still a witch," said Morgan. "And by the look of things, a lot better at witch stuff than Circe. You'll be way more helpful than she is. Please, help me find Roger."

With this witch's help, Morgan though, finding Roger will be a snap.

But to her utter disappointment, the witch shook her head and said, "I'm afraid I can't. Even if it's to help you, what I did was a big no-no. I will be in very big trouble if I am caught. I have to lay low until the heat dies down."

"But-!" 

The witch cut Morgan off. "I'm sorry, but I have to go now. I definitely can't have that gentleman catch me."

"But you're okay leaving me with him?"

The witch shrugged. "Like I already said, he's a gentleman. He'll keep you safe. I can't promise he will help you either though, seeing as he is what you would call a monster hunter."

Morgan blinked. "A monster hunter?"

The witch nodded. "I did say he's killed before. That's what monster hunters do to monsters. Most people would see that as a good thing. But for people like Roger . . . well, I don't need to explain anymore, do I?"

No, she did not.

“I gave you this advice already, but let me give it to you again,” the witch continue. “Stick to Circe. I know it will be hard to believe, but I guarantee as long as you stay with her, you will find Roger.”

She was right that it was hard for Morgan to believe, especially after Circe had already proved how UN-helpful she was. 

“Now, I really must be going,” said the witch. “I wish you luck, Morgan. Farewell.”

“Oh, wait!” Morgan cried out. “I still don’t understand. How is Circe going to help me find Roger? At least tell me what she’s supposed to do!”

The witch didn’t answer. She fled down west, looking more like she was gracefully gliding than she was running. White currents of air cocooned her and when it disappeared, so had she.

<== Chapter 10                                                                                                            Chapter 12 ==>

NEW HOMEOWNERS BEWARE!

You have bought a home for the first time, signed the papers, and got the keys. You go to check the mail for the very first letters to arrive at your new mailbox.

Stop!

I jump in your way with a warning. 

Hark! I can see into the future. When you open that mailbox, you will find letters saying scary things in big, bold letters like how your home warranty is expired. Or maybe it's telling you to order certain documents such as your home's deed for a price. And attached to those letters are application forms for you to fill out along with payment instructions.

Whatever you do, DO NOT PICK UP THAT PEN! DO NOT TAKE OUT THAT CHECKBOOK! AND DEFINITELY DO NOT CALL THE NUMBER ON THOSE LETTERS.

Before doing anything else, you should do research to see if those letters are for real. All it takes is taking a picture of the letter with whatever AI assistant you got on your phone, and what you may find is that those scary, official-looking letters may actually be what would be considered highly deceptive forms of advertisements. The companies and the services they offer may be legitimate, but there is a risk of being overcharged for services you can get for much, much, much cheaper or even FREE elsewhere. Don't take my word for it. Your AI companion will say it all. 

And if AI is not your thing, just look up how the companies sending out those letters are rated online. One place you should definitely check with is the Better Business Bureau, which grades companies and businesses based on how trustworthy they are. The grades those companies got should tell you all you need to know what kind of company they really are. You can decide what to do after that.

Well, even if you do take the AI route, it's always good to do a good, old-fashioned search too. AI ain't perfect, after all, so it's always good to double-check with other sources.

Now, you might be wondering, how do these companies know that you're a homeowner? They got your name and address, and everything. The answer to that is very easy: property ownership is public information. Your ownership of a home is in public records which companies can use to target you for advertisements, or so-called advertisements.

So, what can you do about it? Well, for starters, if you're not in the mood to pay for something you may already have, or you don't need what they're selling, you can just shred the letter and throw it away.

And this definitely doesn't just apply to homeowners. Deceptive advertisement is everywhere these days. Not just in your mailboxes.  They're all over the internet.

Before signing for anything or paying for anything, always do your due diligence. Research, research, research. Before you start doing business with any companies at all, check to see how they're rated. Check to see if there are any complaints of deception, fraud, or other bad things. Compare prices for the services they offer with other places to see if there is any overpricing (this can also save you a whole bunch of money for most other things).

That's all I got to say right now. Just a quick word advice to all you new homeowners and future homeowners. I hope you find this article useful and will share it with others so they don't go into homeownership blind.

Stay safe, and stay sharp. Happy reading, everyone. 

Shifters Chapter 10

"Stupid Circe. No help Circe. The most useless witch on the planet Circe!"

Morgan was trudging up a hill alongside black paved road, grumbling put-downs with no one around but herself and the dismal barren trees to hear them. She was on her way to the viewpoint at the top, the place where it all started to begin an admittedly reckless search of the surrounding wilderness for her beloved boyfriend. But it was the only course of action she had left after Circe proved herself to be no help at all and questioning Benjamin had proved fruitless.

"I would've thought you'd know more about that than I would," said her future brother-in-law, when asked about places Roger would go to be alone or to feel safe.

Morgan was well aware that the wilderness had been combed many times already by those better equipped, better experienced and better knowledgeable than her. But there was always a chance that even their trained eyes might have missed something, a clue that could shine a light on where Roger might be, and she was counting on her own untrained eyes to find that something.

After a long period of walking, (at least one hour and twelve minutes according to her phone), Morgan reached the viewpoint where Roger had transformed. The car was gone, of course. It was towed away somewhere after the police had finished with their investigation.

She stopped to catch her breath, which had become ragged and heavy from that troublesome uphill walk, and took the time to look down over the railing. It was odd, she thought, that when she had last visited here at night, the view below was the most beautiful sight on earth with the sea of twinkling city lights in the vivid, black darkness, yet now stretched out before her depressingly gloomy beneath the pale gray, cloud-filtered daylight. It almost felt like seeing the world after it had already ended.

Morgan shivered and then furiously shook her head free of dismal thoughts.

"Wake up, Morgan!" she told herself. "Now's not the time to be daydreaming."

She turned to face the wilderness. At the forefront was the tree, still scarred from when the car door crashed into it. If anyone had taken a closer look, they would find traces of the car's red paint in the jagged edges of frayed bark. But the police never did, thinking the scar a natural part of the tree and did not look out of place. A few feet past the tree were the bushes that Roger dove into before disappearing out of sight.

After taking a deep breath and doing some stretches, Morgan took one step towards the trees, and then another. And then another. She walked past the tree Roger had scarred and snapped off brittle branches as she pushed aside the bushes.

Deeper and deeper into the wilderness, she went, quick to lose track of time. It was dead quiet, except for the crunching of leaves and twigs crushed underfoot by her boots. Her eyes roamed left and right, back and forth, but all she could see were trees, trees and more trees. There were short trees and tall trees, thin trees and fat trees. There were trees as black as night and trees almost as lightly gray as the sky over them. The only thing they had in common was that they were all completely bare of leaves. The viewpoint was completely gone now, and with it any trace of human civilization.

But Morgan was not concerned about that. She was too focused on finding traces of Roger. However, it should be no surprise that she found none. Her eyes, as mentioned earlier, were untrained. She was arrogant to think that she would have a better chance of finding someone lost in the woods than trained professionals. She didn't even know what she should be looking for.

Still, she persisted, too stubborn to give up. She continued to push her way through sharp, prickly branches, ignoring the biting cold on her rosy cheeks and the occasional snag and tear on her rather expensive winter coat. And she even sat down on the cold, wet mud whenever she needed to take a break to ease up her throbbing, aching feet. 

Morgan was not ashamed to admit that she was never the outdoorsy type, so it surprised her how much she was willingly putting up with. She didn't mind enduring the discomforts of nature at all. Focus on her mission probably helped, but she also found the extremely quiet atmosphere pleasant. There wasn't even any wind blowing right now. It was just peaceful here. Just peaceful and . . . quiet?

Morgan frowned. From nearby, she heard crunching leaves and snapping twigs. But she was sitting down, mostly unmoving so it couldn't be her. That could only mean that she was not alone. 

Morgan craned her neck and looked around behind her. She thought it was a rescue worker or a member of the search party looking for Roger. What she found standing behind her were one . . . two . . . three . . . five persons (three men and two women), with pale blue skin staring back at her with eyes that glowed with red light. For some reason, the way they looked at her reminded Morgan of a nature documentary she once saw. That nature documentary was heavily about lions on a hunt.

It was pretty obvious by their appearance that the newcomers were not human. But hoping they were the peaceful sort of not-human (there was still a chance they were part of the search and rescue operation), Morgan cleared her throat and asked, "Can I help you?"

The blue people all bared their teeth and hissed, "Werewolf!" They all had pairs of long fangs hanging downward like curved stalactites.

"Vampires!" Morgan immediately realized. Her mind raced. Didn't that shop lady, Daisy, say that vampires and werewolves hated each other, or something like that? And for some reason, these vampires think that she's a werewolf. Wait, werewolf-hating vampires thinking that I'm a werewolf? "Oh, that can't be good."

She immediately turned and sprang into a run, only to stop a second later when she found her way blocked by one of the women and one of the men.

How'd they get ahead of me? Morgan wondered. It's like they got superspeed!

She turned to run right, but there was a vampire there. She turned to run left, but there was a vampire there too. And, of course, there was a vampire on the way back as well. Before Morgan knew it, she was surrounded.

"Pretty slow for a werewolf," said the woman at the back, nose up while she regarded Morgan coolly.

"Now that I got a closer sniff, she's got more human than wolf stench on her," said the man to Morgan's right.

Morgan was afraid. Of course, she was. She was surrounded by freaky blue people with freaky fangs, and freaky glowing, red eyes. But she was able to muster enough courage to speak up and said, "That's because I'm not."

"But the wolf stench is strong," said the man at the left. "If she's not a wolf, she must be close with one. And going by the smell, the wolf is a strong one. A really strong one. I'd put it on the same level as Jim, if not higher."

"A prime suspect then," said the second woman. "What do you think, Boss?"

All eyes turned to the first woman, apparently called, "Boss". She was tall, with a narrow, gaunt face and curly, flaming red hair cut to the level of her chin. 

"I have no idea what you guys are talking about," Morgan said, which was only partially true. Her heart raced fast at the mention of a wolf's smell. It could only be Roger's. But the stuff about levels and a suspect went way over her head. "But whatever it is, I've got nothing to do with it. Neither does Roger."

Boss smirked. "So, the wolf's name is Roger."

Morgan clapped her hands over her mouth, cursing herself. Damn it, Morgan! You spoke too much!

Slowly, the boss of the vampires approached. Morgan backed away but stopped when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. The other vampires were closing in on her.

"You and I are going to have a little chat," said the boss.

"About what?" Morgan asked, eyes wandering around her.

"Namely about your wolf friend," was the vampire boss's answer. "Roger."

At the mention of Roger's name, a fire lit in Morgan and she shouted, "You leave Roger alone! He has nothing to do with you! Or your feud with other werewolves!"

"That," the vampire boss said, still ever slowly advancing towards Morgan, "remains to be seen."

Morgan swallowed and shrank but put on a brave face and lowly said, "You won't get anything out of me."

The vampire boss's fingernails burst in growth and curved into sharp points, like the claws of a tiger. "That also remains to be seen. Hold her."

From behind, the woman vampire grabbed hold of Morgan's right arm, and the man vampire grabbed Morgan's left arm.

"No!" Morgan cried. "Let go!"

She yanked her arms as hard as she could, with all the strength she could muster, but the vampires held firm and felt little resistance at all.

"Let go! Let go! Let go!"

"Oh, hush!" went the vampire boss. She was now just a few inches from Morgan. "I don't want to hear another word out of you unless it's an answer to my questions. And it better be an honest one, because I would hate for anything to happen to that pretty little face of yours."

Morgan could feel something pointed brush gently across her left cheek. Her eyes rolled down to the blue, clawed hand near it. She dared to say nothing but breathed loudly through her nose.

"Now tell me," the vampire boss said in a low whisper, "where is Roger?"

Morgan hesitated to speak but then answered honestly while glaring fiercely into the eyes of her captor. "I don't know. But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

The vampire boss coldly glared back, unmoved in anyway by Morgan's show of defiance. She was as cool-headed as ever, and said, "I see." She backed away a few steps and turned her back to Morgan. "So, you won't tell me what I want to know. That's fine."

"It . . . is?" Morgan was a little relieved at getting some personal space back, but she was also a bit confused. She didn't expect the vampire to give up so easily without doing ANYTHING. 

"Oh, sure," said the vampire boss, smiling. "Because even if I can't get you to talk, that doesn't mean there aren't other ways to get anything out of you."

Faster than Morgan could blink, the vampire boss whirled around like a spinning top. Her claws whistled as they sliced through air towards Morgan's neck. Then came the sound of loudly tearing fabric.

<== Chapter 9.                                                                                                             Chapter 11 ==>

Shifters Chapter 9

"Now, I got a few questions for you," Circe said while glaring at the two vampires held high up in the air by an invisible wall monster with lots and lots of bald human heads with infinitely long, rubber-like necks. "No need to explain why you attacked me. I already know you vampires have problems with werewolves. What I want to know is, why'd you think I was a werewolf in the first place."

The twins exchanged quick glances.

Lacking patience, Circe conjured a ball of fire into her hand and threw it. It exploded next to the brother's head with a loud bang, striking stinging heat into his face and further fear in his heart.

"Eek! It's your smell!" he shrieked. "You smelled like a wolf, so we thought you were one! We didn't know you were some powerful witch. I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!"

"My smell?" Circe sniffed the back of her hand. She smelled nothing (to her relief), but it didn't look like the guy was lying. Perhaps faint traces of Roger's smell lingered from when she and Morgan visited his room. "Next question, the guy you mentioned earlier, Drake. Is his full name Jim Drake Jr.?"

At the mention of the late lawyer's name, the sister gained a burst of courage and shouted, "What does it have to do with you?"

"It has everything to do with me if I'm being attacked in his name," Circe snapped back. "Now answer the question!"

She produced another ball of fire in her hand and threw it.

The sister shrieked when the flamed exploded with a bang next to her face. She lost all bravado and answered, "Yes! It's Jim Drake Jr.!"

"Just who was he?" Circe demanded to know. "How's he related to you two? And what does he have to do with attacking me? With attacking werewolves?"

"He's one of the top vampires in town," explained the brother. "One of our leaders, basically. The news said that a bear killed him, but everyone knows that's not true. No way a bear can hurt a vampire. Not a lot of things can. And even less could hurt a vampire like THAT. Only a werewolf would attack that way."

By "THAT", he was talking about the way Jim Drake Jr. was killed. According to the news, it was a vicious, savage attack, the sort only a large, rabid beast would make. All in all, it was not a pretty sight. 

Circe already suspected that it was really a werewolf that attacked the unlucky lawyer. But now she was sure of it. Still, it surprised her to find out that the lawyer of a family of werewolves was actually a vampire, the mortal enemy of werewolves. Not only that, but he was also one of the head honchos of the vampires.

"Okay," she said. "Now I understand everything. "It's not just that you guys hate werewolves. You're out for revenge. But it didn't matter to you who you took revenge on. Even if they had nothing to do with the attack, as long as they're a werewolf, anyone's a target. Is that right?"

Both vampires nodded.

"We told you everything," said the sister. "Now can you let us go?"

Circe frowned at her. "You guys just tried to kill me. Just what makes you think I'll just let you go?" 

"We were not!" the sister protested. "We were just going to scare you a little. That's all! No harm!"

"Oh, sure," Circe said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. "No harm at all, tearing a girl's face off with razor sharp claws."

"I was only aiming for your hair!" cried the sister vampire.

"Yeah!" shouted the brother vampire. "Just a little snip!"

"That so does not make things better!" Circe cried out. These two are idiots, she thought. "And there's no way I can just let you go knowing you two were out to attack random strangers just because they were a certain kind of person."

"Not even werewolves?" the brother asked hopefully.

"Not even werewolves!" Circe snapped. "It's just plain wrong and evil!"

That said, she thought to herself, what DO I do with them? It's not like I can just lock them up somewhere. Or maybe I can. That warehouse Donatello owns should still be abandoned. It'd be perfect place to throw them in. No, it's too far away. There's no way I can get there and back in time for dinner.

Luckily, she did not have to ponder long.

Her sudden silence and pensiveness had inspired feelings of foreboding in the vampires. Brother and sister both had very wild imaginations, and they could not stop their brains from cooking up all sorts of horrible ideas their captor may have in store for them. It didn't help them that their parents used to tell horror stories about sorcerers who would gleefully do anything vomit-inducing in the name of research. 

"If you ever wondered why humans used to hate witches and warlocks so much," Papa Vampire would say, "that's why."

And the papa and mama vampires told A LOT of such stories to the twins when they were still just little, itty-bitty kiddie vampires.

Circe, of course, would never even think to do such things, but the siblings did not know that. Very quickly, their fears piled up until they could no longer stand the strain and begged for their lives.

"We'll do whatever you want!" cried the brother. "We will be your loyal, indentured servants for life!"

"You name it, it's yours!" blurted the sister. "The WiFi password, the combo to our dad's safe, even our grandma's secret lasagna recipe! All of its yours!"

Together the twins declared, "We are yours to command, O great and powerful witch!"

Circe was startled and bemused by the abrupt swears of allegiance and then got suspicious. What could they be up to? She wondered. Did they really mean what they said?

Her doubts were apparently clear on her face, because the sister immediately offered, "We'll sign a contract!"

Circe blinked. "A contract?"

The siblings nodded vigorously.

"That's right! A contract!" exclaimed the brother. "The magic kind! No way to break that kind of contract! You make it, we sign it, you get two loyal servants and we keep our lives! How about it?"

Circe thought for a moment. A contract actually sounded like a good idea. She didn't know how to make the kind of magic contracts that the vampires were talking about, but they didn't need to know that as long as it helped keep them from misbehaving. And having two vampires under her control could prove useful later.

But it wouldn't hurt to have some insurance, she figured. Her eyes roamed to the wall of many heads. That'll do.

After loudly clearing her throat, she fixed what she hoped was a convincing queenly cold stare on the vampire twins. "Very well," she said, mimicking the haughtiness of royalty seen on TV. "Swear undying loyalty to me and I'll let you go. But fair warning, even if I don't say anything beforehand, if you do something I don't like, you better be ready to face some punishment. UNDERSTAND?"

The twins nodded they did.

"Good. Then what are you waiting for? Swear your loyalty."

"I, Mick Sanders, swear my loyalty to you."

"I, Wendy Sanders, swear my loyalty to you."

They spoke at the same time, but not totally in sync, making their overlapping words a bit of a jumbled mess. But Circe was satisfied and snapped her fingers, signaling the monster to let the twins go.

The heads of the wall monster let go and the twins dropped to their feet. They briefly went down on one knee and showered Circe with reverent thanks. "Oh, thank you, Great Witch. Thank you, Great and Powerful Witch!"

Circe rolled her eyes to it and returned her gaze to the wall monster with an order for it to watch over the vampires in case they start making trouble again.

Once she felt like they had done enough thanking, the sister, Wendy swat the arm of the brother, Mick, and whispered, "Let's go!"

Mick nodded and the two rose back up. They were about to leave when a thought crossed Circe's mind.

"Wait," she ordered.

Brother and sister froze mid-step and looking disappointed and worried.

"Yes? What is it?"

The impatience in Wendy's voice annoyed Circe. It reminded her of Morgan. But letting it slide for now, the "Great and Powerful Witch" posed the two vampires a question.

"Are all the vampires like you?" she asked. "Are they all out for revenge? Happy to attack any werewolf they find?"

The twins exchanged looks. 

"Don't worry, My Lady," said Mick. "We're not like that anymore."

"We promise you, we have learned the errors of our ways," said Wendy.

Circe scowled. "That's not what I asked."

The twins exchanged looks again

"Oh, right," went Wendy. "Well, WE don't do that anymore, but a lot of vampires are angry that a werewolf killed Mr. Drake."

"Not that a lot of people actually liked the guy," added Mick. "To be honest, he was a bit of a jerk."

"But plenty of vampires see it as an act of war," Wendy continued. "And I guess plenty of vampires think that they finally got the perfect excuse to get rid of the all the wolves which are eyesores to them."

"Not us though," Mick quickly added. 

"Right, nope," Wendy piled on. "Never even crossed our minds."

"But anyone that's got even a whiff of werewold smell on them's got a target on their backs, right?"

"Not for us," said Wendy. "But yeah. As long as you have that smell on you, My Lady, there's a chance other vampires will see you as an enemy to hunt down. Not that we think you're an enemy to hunt down. No way, not us. We're your loyal servants now."

Circe was no longer listening. Her mind raced. She and Morgan had both gone into Roger's room. Circe was sure that was how the smell of werewolf that the twins sniffed out was on her. In that case, Morgan also had the smell of werewolf on her right now, which would mean she was in very grave danger.

<== Chapter 8                                                                                                              Chapter 10 ==>

Shifters Chapter 8

Circe sat at the bus, center at the right side, on her way home. She would have taken the very back seat where it was warmest thanks to the engine, but all Five seats were already occupied. Not by humans, mind you. They were all occupied by Egregors.

From the very right, there was a creature that looked like a deathly pale and bone-thin man dressed in black robes like a court judge. But his head was thrice as big as the average human's and he had only black empty sockets where eyes should be. Next was a portly clown in yellow court jester garb. He had one eye and was constantly smiling, exposing a set of sharp, beastly fangs. A large, hairy arm cut off near the elbow took the middle seat, the fingers of its upright hand wriggling about. The last two seats were claimed by a green freeway sign with chicken feet.

In a foul mood still after that argument with Morgan, Circe heatedly thought, That stupid moron never listens. Never ever. And she has the gall to call me useless, when she never even thinks anything through. Well, whatever. Let her get herself eaten. I don't care anymore.

She could feel the blood rushing to her head. The more she thought about Morgan, the worse it got. She was dangerously close to popping a vein.

Realizing she needed to calm down before a medical emergency could happen, she quickly pulled out her phone, put earbuds into her ears and pulled up a standup comedy video she had saved to watch at a more convenient time. Now was a good time for it.

Before hitting Play on the video, she also opened the phone's map app and set it to alert her when her stop was near. She didn't want to miss it because she was too distracted. Again.

She stared at her phone unmoving. From behind her seat, an eyeball attached to a fleshy pink stock popped out, watching her with curiosity.

Circe slowly turned her head and glared at the curious eyeball. Through gritted teeth, she growled, "Do you mind?"

The eyeball slowly sank back down out of sight, leaving Circe to finally watch her video in peace.

There were many stops along the way back to Chinatown. At one of those stops, the bus picked up a man and a woman, both with mouse-brown hair, storm gray eyes and looking somewhat stressed. The pair, twin siblings, scurried over to the back of the bus as quick as was allowed to claim the back seats that were extra heated by the engine. But along the way, the man's nose detected a smell that made him pause. He stopped just an inch away from Circe's seat and sniffed quickly twice before one big and loud sniff.

The man's sister elbowed him and hissed, "Quit it! What's with you? We're in a bus! You're embarrassing me!"

The man threw his sister an irritated glare and then told her, "Just smell. You'll see."

The lady frowned, but she decided to just humor her brother and subtly took in air through her nostrils. Her eyes lit with surprise. And then she took a big whiff even louder than the loud sniff her brother had done. She turned and looked at him.

"See?" he said.

The lady didn't like the faint hint of smugness she detected on her brother's face, but that was not important right now.

"Where could it be coming from?" she whispered.

Her brother looked around before finally stopping his gaze on Circe who was engrossed in the story being told by a freckled, redhead man in a green checkered shirt and baggy blue jeans, swaying around the stage while speaking into the silver microphone in his left hand. It was an amusing story that brought a smile unconsciously to her face. She remained blissfully unaware that she was being watched and that her smile had caused the man to flare with anger.

His mouth twisted open in a half-snarl, exposing a long fang jutting down from a row of otherwise average teeth.

Sensing something amiss, the driver glanced up at the rearview mirror and called out, "Everything okay back there?"

He got no response, but he could see the two passengers he just picked up quickly sitting down. Satisfied, but put off by the twins' rudeness, he got the bus moving again.

Circe continued to stream standup comedy on her phone throughout the entire ride, ignorant of two people staring daggers at her, like a predator observing prey. It wasn't until her video was interrupted by a pop-up notice, letting her the next stop was the last that she put the phone down and yanked the cord pinned to the side of the window. A chime let the driver know someone wanted to get off soon.

After exiting the bus, Circe headed to the end of the sidewalk and turned. From there was a straight path to the Chinatown arch. She never looked back once. If she had, she would have seen the twins following her just a few feet back. The sky was completely blanketed overhead with dark winter clouds casting a shade that mimicked the shadow of pre-night. Under that all-encompassing shade, the twins' storm gray eyes softly glowed red like two pairs of eerie lanterns.

After taking a look around to see that they were all alone, the twins exchanged looks and nods. The red glow of their eyes grew bright, and the pink color of their faces was wiped away by a hue of light blue. Their round ears had become pointed. They picked up pace and quickly approached Circe, reaching for her with hooked fingers. But before they got the chance to snatch her away into the nearest back alley, Circe suddenly whirled around, startling the twins to collectively back away couple of feet in a single jump.

Circe was also startled. She never noticed them so close and only turned around because a trio of black rags flew straight at her face. She was in the middle of ducking down when she saw the twins and froze in surprise. The three rags brushed past her face with ghostly high pitch giggling and then soared upward before flying out of sight over the roof of a white, box-shaped building.

Circe stared at the twins and the twins stared at Circe. The twins' blue skin, glowing red eyes and pointed ears made it clear to Circe that they were not human. Their exposed fangs were a dead giveaway what they specifically were: vampires. (What else could they be?) And their hooked fingers were a dead giveaway for what they wanted, which, for reasons unknown to Circe, was to attack her.

As soon as she realized the vampires meant to do her harm, Circe did not waste a second more to run. But her reflexes were nothing compared to a vampire's. Circe only managed to take one step before the lady vampire was on her. The lady vampire grabbed Circe by the hood of her jacket and flung her into the alley before calmly strolling after her, followed closely by the man vampire.

Circe hit the ground hard with a pained yelp. She looked up and saw the two vampires walking over to her. In the darkness of the alley, the red glow from their eyes was more pronounced, making them look several times more terrifying.

Circe rolled to her hands and feet and frantically scrambled on all fours before rising to a run. But there was only a dead end up ahead, a solid brick wall stained black with age and damp from the weather, which she crashed into from running too hard. She looked right and left but found no way to escape. The only way out was through the vampires.

She faced the vampires with her back against the wall, heart pounding, sweating and breathless. Circe just barely managed to contain her fear as the vampires approached her with malicious sneers.

"What do you want with me?" she asked them. "Who are you?"

"You don't need to know that, wolf," said the lady vampire. She spat the word, "wolf" with great disdain.

"Wolf?" Circe was confused, but then her face lit with realization. "Wait! I'm not a werewolf!"

The two vampires laughed. 

"Nice one," said the guy vampire. "Really convincing."

"I'm not lying!" Circe insisted with all her heart and soul, but the vampires would not believe her.

"Don't bother trying to talk your way out of this," the lady vampire said. "You mutts have had it good for too long. It's about time you all know your place."

As she spoke, she raised her hand next to her face. Her fingernails grew long, thick and curved into razor sharp points.

"Maybe a quick, and painful, shave will finally teach you wolves not to bite your superiors."

"For Drake," said the man vampire.

"For Drake."

Drake? Circe pondered the name. "You don't mean Jim Drake, do you? The lawyer? He's a vampire?"

The vampires didn't answer. They were done talking.

From the alley's halfway point, the lady vampire vanished and then reappeared a few inches away from Circe. It looked like to Circe that she teleported. The vampire lady roughly pinned Circe to the wall with her left arm. Their faces were just centimeters apart, nose to nose and they could hear each other's ragged breathing, one from fear and the other from evil excitement. 

The vampire lady cackled and gently brushed a claw down Circe's cheek. "What's the matter, wolf? Too scared to turn beast? You guys bark loud, but always turn meek in the face of real power."

She pulled her claws back and raised them over her head. Circe watched, eyes fixed on those claws she was sure was going to fall at any moment to tear her flesh. But it was at that moment, she noticed something. A section of the brick wall stretched out into the shape of a man's face, yawning. It was an Egregor, an invisible monster only she could see. One that had taken on the form of a brick wall.

Instantly, Circe cried out for help. Putting all the willpower she had into it. "Help! Help me!"

The vampires laughed. 

"There's nobody around to help you now, little cub!" said the man.

But he was wrong.

The vampire lady decided she had done enough teasing and swiped her claws down towards Circe's head. But before those deadly, sharp claws could touch Circe's scalp, they stopped. No, some-THING stopped them.

The lady vampire stared at her arm, astonished and puzzled. She could not see what, but the indentation on her coat's sleeve look like a set of teeth had sunk into it, stopped short of biting into her skin.

More than a dozen bald, human heads popped out of the brick wall and stretched out with long, long rubbery necks. One of those heads flew over to the lady vampire and chomped on her arm as she was about to attack Circe. With the power of its neck and jaws of steel, the head pulled the vampire lady away from Circe and threw her into her brother. 

The two vampires tumbled to the edge of the alley where they laid for a couple of seconds in a messy pile before turning their gazes at Circe. The surprise and, perhaps, fear in their eyes emboldened her to get aggressive.

With her own power, Circe had the vampires lifted sharply into the air and pulled back into the depths of the alley.

"Hold them for me," she told the wall of heads. Four heads held the arms of the vampires up while two coiled their necks around the vampires' bellies. Once she was sure the vampires were securely bound, Circe relaxed her psychic grip on them and focused on producing a mean glare. 

The vampires quivered. No trace of their earlier arrogance remained. All that they had now was fear. But despite that fear, the vampire man managed to speak.

"Y-you're no wolf!" he cried out. "What the hell are you?"

Circe paused to consider her words thoughtfully. And then, looking straight into the vampire's glowing red eyes with fierce eyes of her own, she replied, "I'm a witch.”

<== Chapter 7                                                                                                                Chapter 9 ==>

Shifters Chapter 7

This place looks like it's been ransacked, Circe thought when she peered into the bedroom of the missing werewolf. 

Dresser drawers were left pulled out. Clothes were strewn all over the floor (Circe tried not to look at the white briefs too much). Both the dresser and table tops were littered with tiny, colorful action figures (many laid down at odd angles), strewn with sheets of papers (probably homework or school notes), and stacks of books turned lopsided. Blankets and sheets laid scrunched across the bed which had a corner of blue mattress exposed. A pillow leaned against the bed's frame where it had slipped to the floor.

At first, she thought Benjamin or the police might have turned the room upside down looking for clues to Roger's whereabouts like she had come to do. Either that or this was a sign of a darker conspiracy.

But all suspicions were laid to rest when Morgan said, "It's just like I remember it. It's as if he never disappeared."

Circe gave her a glance. "You mean to say Roger's room is always like this?"

"It is every time I've been over," Morgan said, shrugging. "It's not as bad as it looks. It usually takes maybe thirty minutes to tidy up."

Surprised, Circe turned. "Wait, you actually CLEAN this mess?" 

Morgan nodded.

"Every time?"

Again, Morgan nodded.

"Yourself?" 

"Yes," Morgan said irritably.

"Seriously?"

Morgan frowned in dismay. "Is it really that hard to believe?"

"Yes," Circe replied bluntly. She never thought Morgan would, or could, clean her own room, much less someone else's.

"Well, excuse me for not looking like a good wife," Morgan pouted with her hands on her hips. "Anyway, have you found Roger yet? What are those witchy senses of yours telling you?"

Circe was utterly confused. "My what?"

"You know," Morgan said. "That thing witches have that lets them find stuff while not really looking. Sometimes they use a crystal ball. Sometimes they use a pot of water. And sometimes they just close their eyes, and they can already see what's happening far away. That sort of thing."

That's when it dawned on Circe. "Wait, is that why you brought me here? To use some kind of psychic power on Roger's room or some of his stuff to find him?"

"Well, yeah," said Morgan. "That's how witchy senses usually works, right?"

"I don't know," Circe said. "I don't have anything like that."

Morgan cried out in disbelief. "What? What kind of witch doesn't have witchy senses?"

"This one, apparently," said Circe. She never learned anything about "witchy senses" from Donatello Putts, and she doubted he ever had any power like it either.

"Well, this sucks," Morgan groaned in disappointment. "It means we came here for nothing! Some help you turned out to be."

Circe scowled. "You're the one who dragged me here because of an assumption you made on your own!"

"Whatever," Morgan said dismissively. "Since we're here anyway, we may as well pick Ben's brain for ideas."

They found Benjamin in the kitchen just as he was about to go to them with two mugs of steaming hot tea. He was surprised to see that they were already done and asked the girls if their investigation bore any fruit. When the girls answered no, he gave a consoling, "Well, at least you tried your best." 

Circe was sure he never believed they would find anything. He probably never really believed that lie Morgan spun about Circe being a detective and was just humoring them. That annoyed Circe because it felt like she and Morgan were being treated like children doing play pretend. But graciously, she took the mug of tea offered to her and sipped it carefully. As she savored the taste in her mouth and the warmth spread to her fingertips, she thought back to the meeting she witnessed between the man standing in front of her and the two members of the police station from earlier, both she knew to be involved in serious crimes of strange natures beyond the realm of science. 

There had to be a reason for those two, that accountant in particular, to be visiting this house, she thought. Maybe it's because Roger is a werewolf that Tom Waller's lending a hand, but Circe seriously doubted that was the case. There was no way they knew the Nettles had werewolves in the family when the Nettles themselves didn't know about it. 

Wait, did the Nettles know there are werewolves in the family? Now that Circe thought about it, Roger's ignorance of his powers was just an assumption Daisy made from Morgan's story. And Morgan hasn't exactly proved herself to be a reliable source of facts.

But whether or not Benjamin Nettles was aware of his werewolf lineage, it did not change the chances that he could transform into a hulking, vicious beast at any moment with claws that could tear Circe and Morgan to pieces. When that thought crossed her mind, Circe thought, I really shouldn't have stepped foot in this house.

She glanced up nervously at Benjamin, but the young man of the house just smiled back, looking ever harmless.

Still, why did Arnold and Mr. Waller come here? She wondered as she took more sips of tea. She debated with herself whether or not to ask. But before she could come to a decision, it was made for her by Morgan who abruptly blurted out, "So what did you talk about with that chauffeur?"

Benjamin looked at his brother's girlfriend with confusion. "Chauffeur?"

"Yeah," Morgan said. "I thought you were going to go out, but you ended up not. Were you just making plans in person or something. Now that's some dedication to his job that chauffeur got."

Benjamin looked to Circe for clarity.

"She's talking about those guys you met at the front door earlier," she explained. "When we came, we saw you guys talking. It looked important and we didn't want to interrupt, so we hung back and kept out of the way."

"Oh, is that why we were hiding behind the garbage bins?" asked Morgan.

"Geez!" cried Benjamin. "You were there the whole time? You must have been freezing!"

"Tell me about it," said Morgan. "I told Little Miss Dumb-o here that there was no need to be so polite. But noooo. She just had to have her way."

Circe threw her a scornful glare. Before she had a chance to tell the liar that she did no such thing, that liar got the discussion back on track. "So, anyway about the chauffeur . . . "

Benjamin hesitated.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Circe told him. "But you should know that, unlike this moron here, I know the guys you talked with were not chauffeurs. They were cops."

Morgan was astonished. "They were? Why didn't you say so? Was it about Roger? Is that why they were here? What did they have to say."

Still, Benjamin was uncomfortable. But after a bit of contemplation, he spoke, choosing his words carefully "Yes, those guys were cops. But they weren't here about Roger. It was about something else."

"Something else what?" asked Morgan.

Benjamin hesitated some more before sighing in resignation. "Well, it's not exactly something pleasant to talk about with a pair of kids. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt. The cops had questions about a lawyer who worked with Dad, mine and Roger's. A guy named Jim Drake. I don't know him that well myself, so there wasn't a whole lot I could tell. Not that there'd be a lot that the police need to look into."

"How come?" Circe asked. "What happened to the lawyer?

"Well, apparently, Jim had a run-in with a bear. A fatal one."

**********

After quickly finishing up the rest of the tea, Circe and Morgan bade Benjamin farewell. He offered to drive the girls home, but Circe quickly declined for both herself and Morgan. She had something she wanted to talk to Morgan about alone. She didn't expect Morgan to get a clue and was prepared for her to make a fuss about walking out in the cold.

But surprisingly, Morgan stayed quiet. Even as they headed down the winding road cutting through the suburbs, enduring the now harsher winter gales, she spoke not a word. Surely it must be because she had the same thought that Circe had when they heard Benjamin speak of the lawyer who had met his end by the fangs and claws of a mighty beast. 

A bear attack seemed too farfetched a cause for Jim Drake Jr.'s demise when knowing that there wasn't a single bear habitat within miles of the city. Not to mention nothing on the news about bears escaping from any of the local zoos.

But then what did attack that lawyer if not a bear? There was only one creature that Circe could think of that could be the culprit: a werewolf. 

"Say," Circe started. She could not allow the silence to continue. What she had to say had to be said. "I don't think we should be doing this anymore."

Morgan stopped. "Roger didn't do it. He had nothing to do with that lawyer."

"That lawyer was his dad's," Circe pointed out.

"It could still be another werewolf," Morgan countered. "From what we heard, there are probably lots living in the area. Any one of those could have attacked that lawyer." 

"But there's only one werewolf we know so far with a connection to him," Circe said. "Roger."

"Why would Roger do that?" asked Morgan. "Why would he even go to that lawyer in the first place? What would be the point?"

"It could be that he went to the lawyer for help."

"Over coming home to his family?" went Morgan. "The people most people would turn to for help first?"

"There are people out there who won't turn to family for help first because they're family," Circe argued, speaking partly from experience.

"You heard that Daisy lady," Morgan said. "She said that there's no way that Roger would go crazy."

Circe shook her head at Morgan's misremembrance. "No. Daisy only said that it SOUNDED like Roger didn't lose control, which means there's still a chance that he could."

Morgan crossed her arms and remained stubborn. "He wouldn't."

Losing patience, Circe sharply snapped, "Look! This could be dangerous!"

"If you don't want to help, that's fine!" Morgan shouted. She also had enough. "You've been useless since the beginning, anyway. I don't know why I let you stick around."

"LET ME!? You're the one who asked me for help in the first place!" Circe yelled back.

"Whatever!" Morgan huffed, rolling her eyes and irking Circe further. "Just go home. I don't need you anymore. I'll find Roger on my own! Hmph!"

She turned at her heels and began marching back to the Nettles house. Circe watched her back for only a few seconds before continuing down the way back home. Neither girl looked back.

<== Chapter 6                                                                                                                Chapter 8 ==>

Shifters Chapter 6

"Just why am I doing this?" Circe breathlessly wondered to herself as she followed Morgan up a slope of suburban houses. At any other time during the day, the houses would glow with their fresh paint looks but currently stood dull, even unwelcoming, beneath the winter gloom. The gray clouds that completely shrouded the sky above were a permanent fixture of the season and came with the sound of soft whistling of wind even more chilly than the actual temperature.

They were on their way to Roger's house. It was Morgan's belief that they may be able to find clues to his whereabouts there and possibly expand her list of places he could have gone. She insisted that Circe accompany her and help her with her amateur detective work, going as far as to call her, "Watson," which Circe really did not appreciate since it made clear she was being viewed as the sidekick of this story.

She continued to grumble as she trudged behind Morgan. "I should be at home playing games on my computer. Not out here on a freezing cold Saturday!" Although she loved wintertime, there was only so much of it that she could take. Besides, she was way behind on a limited time event going on right now.

According to Morgan, Roger's father ran a successful company, which it had to be for the Nettles family to live in a neighborhood like this. She didn't know what sort of company Mr. Nettles owned and neither, apparently, did his own son. Morgan had never met Mr. and Mrs. Nettles before, but she had met Benjamin, Roger's older brother, many times. Circe found it weird that Morgan had never seen her boyfriend's parents before but decided it was none of her business and asked no questions.

Not soon enough, they arrived at the Nettles' residence. The house was a cluster of three structures with the main structure in the middle being the tallest and widest at three floors high (not counting the attic). They were uniformly painted dark gray with the windows framed white. A white driveway was paved at the left side of the property and led up to the single-floor garage which, like the main middle was topped by a close-to-flat pyramid. From the driveway through the front of the house and around the property's right was a wide ring of grass, which was overlooked by the remaining structure where, according to Morgan, the kitchen and patio were contained. The patio opened up to both the side and back yards which, except for right now, were usually lush green.

"The patio's also closed up for the winter," Morgan told Circe as they approached the white picket fence that surrounded the premises. "Even though the doors are those wood-framed window types, they're pretty good at keeping out the cold. Oh, did I mention that the roof above the kitchen is also a second patio? That's why it's all flat with railings."

"Why are you acting like you're showing off when it's not even your own house?" Circe asked.

Morgan behaved like she didn't hear.

Typical, Circe thought. She turned to gaze at the house and admire it. Suburban homes were rare to see in person for a city girl like Circe, especially ones so grand in design, so she couldn't help but be curious about it. Her eyes roamed from the patio/kitchen section, passed over the taller mid-section and then stopped on the car parked in the driveway in front of the garage. It was an older model black sedan, well cared for, but clearly used often. Its red rear lights were still on, and its engine still softly rumbled, indicating that it had either just arrived or it was about to depart.

She paused, frowned, and wondered aloud, "Now where have I seen that car before?"

It didn't take long for her to remember. And when she did, she was struck by panic. "Oh shoot! Quick! We need to hide!"

"Huh? Why?" Morgan asked. She didn't get an answer. Instead, she was pulled behind a pair of garbage bins left outside by their owner who'd rather stay inside than go out into the cold to collect them. They ducked down just as the engine finally ceased its purring and its red lights blinked off and peaked out from behind in time to see the two front seat doors swing open.

Circe swore. "I knew it," she muttered beneath her breath.

Out from the driver's seat was Arnold Willis, Jackie's stepdad, a police officer. The car was his. Circe had seen it many times whenever Jackie got dropped off and picked up at school, but it's been a while since the last time she had seem it, so she nearly forgot what it looked like. 

What's he doing here? Circe wondered as she peaked out from behind the blue recycle bin. Could he be here to find clues to Roger's whereabouts like we are? Morgan did say she tipped off the police, after all. That theory, however, was soon dismissed when Circe laid eyes on the man at the front passenger side of the car. It was Tom Waller, accountant by day, monster-slash-wizard-buster by night (Jackie's words, not Circe's). "What is HE doing here?"

Morgan said clearly, she said nothing about Roger's transformation, so there's no reason for the police's expert in all things weird to be out and about. Not unless they've known all along what Roger really was. No, that can't be it, either. Something else must be going on. Something really, really bad.

"Psst!" Morgan hissed from behind the green general garbage bin. "Hey! Isn't that Jackie's chauffeur?"

"Shush!" Circe irritably hissed back. But then she frowned. "Chauffeur?"

"You know," Morgan whispered. "A private driver. That's Jackie's right? I used to see Jackie get dropped off by that guy all the time. I always wondered how Jackie could afford one. He never looked all that rich."

Circe rolled her eyes and decided correcting Morgan was not worth the trouble. Finding out what Mr. Willis and Mr. Waller were doing at the Nettles house was more important. She watched Arnold jab the doorbell button, but she could not hear what the two men were saying to each other as they waited for their summons to be answered. They were just too far away.

"Could he be here to drive Benjamin somewhere?" Morgan wondered. "Actually, why are we even hiding?"

"Will you shut up?"

Morgan was more shocked dumb than offended by Circe's snap. Mainly because the way Circe snapped was close to how Granny Tsing snapped. Without knowing it, more and more of her great-aunt's nature was rubbing off on her.

Before long, the white front door opened to an incredibly tall, slender man dressed in a dark blue sweater over a collared shirt and a pair of tight, tan-brown slacks. The clothes beneath the hastily thrown on winter coat and the thick, black frame glasses gave him a bookish look. A shadow covered the lower half of his face, what was left over from this morning's shave. His red hair grazed the top of the doorway as he looked from one visitor to the other. Arnold did most of the talking while Tom stood back and listened. The two visitors were dwarves in comparison to the man they had come to see. 

That man, Circe presumed, was Benjamin Nettles, Roger's brother that Morgan mentioned.

Circe could see the homeowner's mouth move, but she had no way of knowing what he was saying. Lip reading was more Jackie's thing that hers. But whatever he talked about with Arnold and Tom, it was clear by the way he deeply frowned, the topic was a serious and unhappy one.

Whether bored or impatient, Morgan could not keep silent for very long and asked, "Mind telling me now why we're hiding?"

"Shut up!"

Morgan was offended. But she spoke no more because when Circe snapped at her, there was a gust of wind that kicked up her hair. It was really just natural wind that happened to pass by at the same time, but Morgan thought she was at risk of being flung to the sky.

Honestly, Circe wasn't sure why she made herself and Morgan hide either. It was just one of those inexplicable impulses brought about by panic at an unexpected encounter. And it was too late now for her and Morgan to show themselves, not with the grownups now deep in discussion.

A few, but long and chilling, minutes later, the chat between the three men ended. The shivering girls heard the sound of doors hastily slamming shut and peaked out to see the car slowly backing out of the driveway. Once it was out of sight along with its riders, Circe finally stood up. She did a twist one way and felt several back bones popped. More popped when she twisted another way.

"W-w-what was th-that all about?" Morgan asked sourly while shivering.

"S-s-sorry," Circe replied shakily. She was also chilled to the bone.

It was not the answer that Morgan was looking for, but she was too cold to care. "Let's just hurry up and get inside so we can finally get to work and find clues to find Roger!"

She would get no arguments from Circe and raced over to the front door via diagonally across the yard. Seeing no other choice, Circe followed. 

Morgan pushed the glowing orange oval nestled in coiling brass and a bell chined twice from within the house. The white front door opened a split second later and out poked the head of Benjamin Nettles with an irritated frown on his face. But his annoyance turned into surprise when, instead of the police officers from earlier with some abrupt last-minute needs like he expected, he had two teenage girls shivering in front of him, one of whom he instantly recognized.

"Morgan? What are you doing here?"

"H-hey, Ben!" Morgan flashed a smile. "Any news about Roger?"

Benjamin's face softened and he slowly shook his head.

Morgan's face fell with disappointment, but then she remembered that asking questions was not what she was here for. Taking action was.

"Do you mind if we come inside?" she asked.

"Sure, I guess it's okay," Benjamin said rather hesitantly. "But who's your friend?"

Friend was not a word Circe would use to describe what she was to Morgan and what Morgan was to her. But she certainly didn't expect to be introduced this way:

"This is Circe, Master Detective Circe."

Surprised, Circe turned and cried out, "Huh?"

Benjamin looked at her with eyebrows raised in bemusement. "A bit young for a detective, don't you think?"

Circe wanted to make a retort, but Morgan gave no room for her to speak up.

"Well, yeah," Morgan said. "But she's the best of the best."

She looked to her right. And then she looked to her left. Benjamin and Circe followed her example, seeing no one out and about. Finally, she leaned in, hand cupped over one side of her mouth and she whispered, "She's actually the one who solved that big case a few months back. You know, the one about all those people disappearing?"

"You don't mean to say she's the one who rescued all those kids that Donatello Putts kidnapped, are you?" an astonished Benjamin asked in a hushed voice.

Morgan nodded. "That's right. She's like a lady Sherlock Holmes."

Oh, so now I'm Sherlock Holmes to you? Circe thought sourly. Didn't you just call me Watson this morning? And it wasn't me who rescued those guys from Putts' harebrained scheme. It was Jackie!

She kept quiet, knowing correcting Morgan would not do her any good. And more importantly, it would not do Jackie any good. Morgan continued to lie uninterrupted.

"I thought that if anyone could help find Roger, she can. I brought her over here because she wanted to see if maybe she could find clues in Roger's room."

"Well, I didn't find any clues myself," Benjamin said. "But if it'll help find my brother, his room's all yours, Miss Detective."

It stunned Circe to see someone believe such a ridiculous lie. But Benjamin didn't seem to show any doubts and didn't hesitate to step aside to allow the girls through. 

"Gee," she said awkwardly. "Thanks."

Morgan stepped in first. "Come on! I know where it is. I'll show you the way."

She went charging up the stairs without waiting. Not exactly good visitor behavior.

After watching her thunder on up, Benjamin gestured towards the staircase. Circe sighed and took a step, but then hesitated. 

A thought had crossed her mind. Daisy had said that Roger may have werewolf ancestry and didn't know about it. That would mean the rest of the Nettles family could be werewolves too. The thought brought her dread.

She looked at Benjamin who flashed her a friendly smile. 

Bracing herself, Circe once more stepped into a possible den of beasts. Hopefully, she prayed, she and Morgan will be able to step out of it in one piece.

<== Chapter 5                                                                                                                Chapter 7 ==>

Shifters Chapter 5

Morgan felt faint. She swayed backwards, causing the other women in the room to fear she might collapse. However, she managed to keep herself upright, albeit feeling absolutely terrible.

"Seriously? There's no cure? There's no way to turn Roger back to normal? None at all?"

Daisy shook her head sadly. "No. None at all."

Unable to contain her dismay, Morgan moaned and stamped her foot like a frustrated little child on the verge of a tantrum. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

"It's not all bad, though," Daisy quickly said. She glanced nervously at the door to the backroom, which remained quiet except for goofy voices coming from the TV before continuing. "Based on what you've told me; it sounds like Roger still has control of himself. As long as he hasn't turned feral, there's still a chance for him to have a normal life."

Circe raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he can still have a life like anyone else," Daisy said.

"And how," Morgan shouted, "is he supposed to live a normal life when he's a mutant wolf monster?" 

"It'll take some adjusting sure, but it's doable," said Daisy. "Remember, Shifters can switch between their human and monster selves. If Roger can learn to control his powers, he won't have any problems. There are plenty of support groups out there who can teach Shifters like him how to get used to their powers."

"The point is," Circe cut in, "Roger is still Roger. We can't get rid of the wolf side of him, but we can help him live with it."

Morgan was still not happy, but she calmed down and nodded. There was no use moping about what could not be. And it'd be a waste of time. As long as there was at least some way to help Roger, there was still hope. And she'll take any that she could get. "Fine. Mind giving me a number for one of those support groups?"

"Give me some time and I'll get it for you," Daisy promised. 

"You better," Morgan said before giving Daisy her contact info.

"Well, I guess that's it then," Circe said. She took a step towards the exit. "Good luck with helping Roger deal with his werewolf problem. Let me see you out."

Morgan didn't budge. She frowned at Circe and asked, "Why are you acting like you're done here? This is far from over."

"Oh, come on! What do you expect me to do?" Circe asked back. "You heard Daisy. There's nothing anyone can do about his werewolf curse. Let the experts at that werewolf support group take over. They'll do a better job."

"When we can get Roger to them, yeah. Roger's still missing," Morgan pointed out. "Until we find him, that support group or whatever's no help."

"Sounds like a job for the police," said Circe.

But Morgan was not having it. "Uh-uh. No way. I've seen enough monster movies to know how that'll go. All it'll take is one trigger-happy idiot to make things go really south."

"Uh, as the only adult in the room," Daisy cut in, "I feel like I should be telling you that it's not good to say stuff like that about the men and women in uniform whose job it is to keep everyone safe. I also think it's a bad idea for two teenage girls to be out looking for a runaway werewolf. It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" Morgan asked impatiently.

Daisy could no longer take kindly to the girl's attitude, rose up to her feet and glared sternly with her arms folded in front. "For starters, young lady, if your plan is to search for him in the woods, you could get lost. And at this time of year, that'd be fatal. Secondly, werewolves and vampires in this town got bad blood going on between them. If a vampire catches you girls looking for a werewolf, you could get into all sorts of trouble."

"Bad blood? What sort of bad blood?" asked a both worried and curious Morgan. Circe wanted to know too.

After taking a bit of time to think, Daisy answered, "Well, this is just something I heard recently, but it sounded like the wolf packs and the vampire clans are on the verge of -"

**********

"All-out war," said the man in the resplendent police uniform. The African-American gentleman with gray hair was the chief of police, William Martin. He sat behind his grand, polished wood office desk facing two men to tell them some grave news. "That's right, folks. We got a potential all-out war on our hands."

The two men sitting opposite of the police chief exchanged looks. One of them, tall, redheaded, with a lopsided jaw was Arnold Willis, a plainclothes police officer assigned to investigate crimes. The other man who was slightly gaunt, dark-haired and the shortest of the office's three occupants was Tom Waller, the station's accountant.

Arnold took the initiative and spoke first. "Uh . . . I don't suppose you're talking about that E-sports contest we got going on with the boys at the fire station in that online MMO video game, are you? Because if so, shouldn't you be talking to Gregson and Lopez instead?"

He was dismayed to hear his superior answer, "No, Arnold. I'm not talking about a war in a video game. I'm talking about an actual war that could erupt on the streets of our fair city."

Tom confessed, "I don't see what that has to do with me. In case you forgot, Chief, I'm an accountant, not an officer of the law. Unless you think the key to world peace is balancing checkbooks, I'm no help."

"If only it were that easy," William said wistfully. "But in all seriousness, you two are the only ones I can trust to solve this problem."

If the Chief was bringing Tom into this, Arnold thought, the problem must be . . . an abnormal one.

"And how exactly are we supposed to deal with a war?" the accountant asked irritably. "Who are we even at war with?"

"Not us," William corrected. "It's the vampires and the werewolves who're going to war."

Tom frowned.

Arnold blinked, bemused. "I'm sorry, what? Did you just say . . . vampires and werewolves? Vampires and werewolves are real?"

"I don't see how that's so surprising," said the police chief. "You've already had a run-in with real wizards and invisible monsters. If those are real, why not vampires and werewolves too?"

Arnold Willis was Jackie Li's stepfather. While trying (and failing) to stop Jackie from throwing himself into danger a couple of months back trying to find his missing girlfriend, Circe, the two got captured by said girlfriend who displayed real magic powers and commanded invisible monsters to do her bidding. It was a shocking experience, to say the least. 

But despite being locked up in an abandoned warehouse against his will, Arnold forgave Circe because, like him, she was just trying to keep Jackie safe from the real villain of the time, that wizard Putts or whatever his name was. He still had mixed feelings about his stepson dating a real witch. But knowing Circe to be a good kid deep down, Arnold allowed their relationship, at least about as much as a normal parent would allow for their teenage kids.

After letting everything he just learned sink in, Arnold relaxed a little and said, "Well, that's not too bad. What's the problem with monsters going at each other's throats?"

William reproached Arnold. "That is insensitive of you, Arnold. For the record, vampires, werewolves and others like them are all, at their core, human just like you and me. Many of them were victims, or descended from victims of cruel, heartless sorcerers who don't think twice about treating human beings as lab rats to test out their powers or create the perfect mutant servants. They are people with feelings and most, if not all, just want to live in peace. And it is our duty as police officers to make sure they can."

Arnold was at a loss for words and cast his eyes down to his feet, rightfully ashamed of his foolish and ignorant remark.

"Sorry," he mumbled meekly.

Tom would normally rebuke the police chief and remind everyone that he was not a police officer, but he decided it was best to keep quiet.

"Getting back on track," William decided, "do the two of you already know about what happened to Jim Drake Jr. last night?"

"Yeah," said Arnold. "It was on the news this morning. He's that lawyer that got mauled by a bear. What about him?"

"Jim Drake Jr.'s a vampire," William explained. "But he's not just any vampire. He's one of the top vampires in the city. No surprise, a lot of vampires are upset about his passing."

"And they think a werewolf's what really got him," Tom surmised.

William nodded.

"What are the chances it really was a bear like the news said?" asked Arnold.

"Zilch," was the police chief's answer. "Vampires are tough. Superman tough. No vampire, especially a top vampire, would lose a fight with a bear. It was definitely a werewolf that got him. All the evidence points to one over all the other types of werebeasts in the city."

Arnold blinked. "Werebeasts?"

"Cat people, rhino people, rat people," Arnold cut in. "The list goes on and on."

"Got it."

"Anyway," William continued, "I want you guys to take over the case and find out who was the wolf that did it. Preferrably before any vampires start thinking about taking justice into their own hands."

"It's probably too late for that," Tom grumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

William heard and said, "We have to try, Tom. It won't do anything about the hate between the two sides, but it is the only way to get the vampires to calm down. If they start biting back against the werewolves, then there'll be no stopping them from starting a war."

"I know, I know," Tom said with a sigh. "Just don't get your hopes up. I'm no good with sleuthing if there's no sorcery involved."

That's right. Tom Waller was the police station's expert in magic, witchcraft and sorcery. He was put in charge of finding the kids who had been duped into becoming apprentices and partners in crime of the wizard, Donald Putts. Like Circe, Tom also had the power to see invisible monsters, though he really wished he didn't. And he absolutely hated being called a wizard, warlock, sorcerer, or whatever else, denying being any such thing despite his magic know-how.

"Don't be so sure about that," said William. He sat back in his chair with the tips of his fingers on each other. "After all, there are still sorcerers out there who'll mutate themselves into whatever they feel like."

<== Chapter 4                                                                                                     Chapter 6 ==>