For the Good of Society
re you sure…?”
“Yes. Now, be patient. They will come here and reveal their true colors.”
Absolutely excited to be part of his first monster hunt, Stewart McGivens nodded to the two others waiting with him in the upper section of the monthly-membership gym. The first time this sandy-haired frat boy met the three hunters that had arranged this hunt, they had come to his home dressed in exotic leather that either had to come from some illegal source overseas, or from an impossibly mythical source that he had been sure was extinct. Dragon-hide just didn’t exist in the modern world. They arranged everything, from the day of the hunt to the location. They even bought a roasted chicken twelve-piece dinner with all the accoutrements, including hot chicken broth. Sipping chicken broth for strength was tradition, they said. One of them accidentally spilled his mug on Stewart’s lap, but made up for it by giving him one of the larger pieces from the bucket and promising after it was over they would go out for beer—all on them.
But now it was time to wait. It was the second night of the full moon. The first night the hunters scouted out the location, making sure their target would actually arrive, as werewolves were famous for changing hunting grounds regularly. This particular werewolf was especially known for changing his mind at the last second, nasty unpredictable.
“Hey,” one of the hunters, Philip something-or-other, whispered to his cohort, covering his cell phone with his hand. He had been talking to the other hunter named George that was watching the street outside the closed gym. “The car just pulled up, but the older wolf is not here. Looks like he is out of town again.”
“That pup hunts alone most of the time…” muttered muscular Mike Logan, the other hunter who wore his hair in chops as if he were a werewolf himself. “I thought you said you saw the old wolf last night.”
Philip with-the-cell-phone shrugged. “My mistake. I guess I only saw the kid.”
The kid. Stewart repressed a shudder. Occasionally the hunters used more human terms to describe the beasts they hunted, phrasing that Stewart could not quite reconcile himself to. He preferred they did not talk about their quarry as people, as they were not allowed to kill the monsters unless they were in beast form.
“Here they come,” Philip narrated, listening to his phone, prepping to make Stewart’s cue.
“Alright.” Mike nodded to Stewart. “Are you ready to play your part? All you have to do is goad him. He’s gotta be a wolf. Blow the whistle. It will force him into form. Remember, we’ve got your back.”
“They’re in the building…” Philip continued his narration. “Going to the locker room….”
Stewart rose, walking quietly towards the stairway that would take him down to the open gym floor where group aerobics classes were held. The mats were cleared off so all that was left was hardwood floor in need of waxing. He gently pushed open the
Impressum
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.09.2014
ISBN: 978-3-7368-5205-1
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