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                We met

the Hardwicks, if that was really their last name, in Central Park. I didn't

know if this guy knew about Verona, but if he didn't, there was no point in

leading him there. I was still shaken by what had happened last night.

                I chose

some place we hadn't been yet, the Conservatory Gardens. I wasn't sure why, but

it was maybe in the hope of getting that stink out of my nose. It seemed to

linger even after taking a shower and inhaling the carafe of coffee the porter brought up

with breakfast. 

                Maggie

was still ill at ease, but she seemed to be better now that it was daylight.

Anything that could scare a werewolf during the night was something terrible

indeed. We sat down on a low wall along a row of gorgeous flowers and I told

them what had happened.

                "Maggie

smelled him first. She snagged my side to make sure I was awake too. It was the

most awful stink I can describe. I'd think people would complain about this guy

just on his odor alone."

                Reynaud

shook his head. "It's not like that. There are aromas that we can smell that no

one else can. In your case, you could smell him since he was so close. What did

he look like?"

                I shook

my head just like he had. "I don't know. That's the worse part. By the time we could

smell him, he was apparently gone. The only trace of him was his lingering

presence in the air and this."

                I

pulled an object out of my pocket. It was about six inches long, hollow on one

end and then thinning and tapering to a point. It was black; tarnished, but obviously

metal.

                The

older couple looked at it without touching it. Verona drew back from it. She

voiced my thought. "It looks like one of the fingers from the Nightmare on Elm

Street movies."

                "Sort

of. That character had a glove though, didn't he? This is just for one finger."

                "How do you suppose he would keep it on?"

                I

pointed to the inside. It was filled with small spines. "I would guess by

forcing it down over his fingertips."

                "Then

how would he get it off?"

                "By

tearing the tips of his finger off."

                The

vision of that was too much for her. She shivered in the sunlight. "How did he

get in?"

                Maggie

lowered her head. "The same way I have in the past. He climbed up the side of the building

and came in through the balcony door."

                Reynaud

was looking grim. "I guess that means he knows we're here and on to him. I

don't think he'll attack us, because I believe he was mostly curious and

presented a warning. I can't blame him. He probably detected the girl's scent

and followed her, just as she followed him. He isn't just some ignorant human.

He has the same abilities as us, and he has a lot more experience in tracking."

                "That's

not exactly reassuring." I said, feeling a bit clammy.

                "It's

not meant to be. Our job may now be more difficult. There is nothing to say he

suspects anything, but he will logically be on the lookout now. And considering

his past crimes, I would think that Maggie may need to be extra careful He did

seem to have a penchant for children."

                "I can

take care of myself!"

                Reynaud

stood, looking grave. "Oh my God, there he is!"

                Maggie

whipped around looking terrified. "Where?"

                Reynaud

let loose a high pitched whistle. Apparently only we could hear it, for no one else

seemed disturbed by it.  "Nowhere, young

lady. But don't think for a minute I don't think you're scared. And you should

be. So drop your silly act and pay attention. I will not have any of my family

harmed in this matter."

                I can't

say we were any better off after this discussion than the last one, but

eventually we called it a morning and went to our separate abodes. Maggie

dragged me through the garden pointing out all the innate beauty displayed in

the blooms, and while I wasn't feeling it, I did my best to stay interested.

                "I

recognize a lot of these from sites on the internet. These are begonias, and these

are gladiolas, and these are roses, and this is Monk's Hood, and these are

Black Eyed Susans, and..." She went on and on telling me about everything in the

garden. I was proud of her, but if she was trying to distract me, it wasn't

working.

                "Maggie

dearest, I'm glad you know your flowers, but I hardly think now is the time to

be rattling off all their names to me."

                "Sorry.

I thought maybe you might interested."

                "Well,

unless they can help us right now, then no."

                We

walked through the park and I kept a watchful eye out for our man. I had no

idea if he was watching us or not, but I intended to keep my eyes open. We

ambled for an hour, retracing back to the old castle where Maggie had first

caught Verona's scent. We sat down for a while at the outdoor theatre nearby,

to watch the actors rehearsing for a Shakespearean production.  It was entertaining, but it still did little

to alleviate my unease.

                Even

the breeze at my back felt unpleasant and chill, despite the warm air. I

finally had enough and stood to go.

                "Can't we

watch it a little bit longer?"

                "Kiddo,

I'm not feeling much like a tourist today. Maybe some other time?"

                "Alright.

But it was just getting interesting!" We left the seats and headed for the

hotel. All the while, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching

us. It was unnerving, and I felt like it was more my self-conscious sense of

preservation that any real danger. But then, I didn't see the set of eyes

hiding just off stage.

                We

walked back to the hotel in silence.  It

wasn't an awkward silence, just a deep-in-thought silence. We were assassins

for a killer, and the killer just might know that. And since he knew where we

were staying, and he likely knew that we were aware of his location, we were in

a stalemate. I had no idea how to proceed.

                When we

got to the hotel, I found out I had some mail. Some of it was just stuff

forwarded from home, but there was one; one yellow envelope mixed in with the

rest. It had crabbed writing on the cover, and it was inscribed, To The Ones Living

in Room 1290. The smell was a dead giveaway as to who it was from.

                Maggie

sniffed it and backed away. I held up my hand. "Don't. It's just a letter. We'll

read it upstairs." I was going to ask who delivered it, but it hardly mattered.

I knew who it was from.

                I

opened it up once we were inside the suite and had checked every nook and cranny

to make sure our man wasn't hiding somewhere. The air was clear, and so were

the hiding spots. I tore it open and pulled out the aged paper inside.

                I suppose you know who I am. It

is no secret. This city doesn't care about who I am or what I do. Worse things

go on daily than in this city than I could ever take credit for. In the old

days I was called a monster. Now I am a little more than a quaint footnote in

history. I think I much preferred being infamous.

                I don't know what you want. Your

girl child is very pretty, but not my type. I have mementos from so many, I

hardly have room to display them.  And

you, who live with the kind and yet are not of the kind. What is your purpose?

I sense a gathering but to what outcome?

                I have been dead to the world

for many years now. I paid my price. Would you kill me again? To what end?

Sport? Revenge? I have killed many since I clawed my way to the surface, after

they buried me in the cold, unforgiving earth. Do you think that you can frighten me

with threats and jibes? I have see Death's face and it is beautiful.

                You might as well go away. If I

could die, I would be dead already. I have tried. I knew not what I did so long

ago, sealing my fate into that of a netherwalker. If you try to return me to

the gates of Hell, it will not bode well for you. You will not be the first to

hunt me, and you will likely not be the last. If you succeed, then all the

better for me. I tire of living. But

the beast inside is caged, and when left out, becomes a minion of Hell. The

devil himself will flee before me if you lose that creature so long subdued.                                                A.

Fish

                 Maggie refused to touch the stained, decrepit

sheet. I could hardly blame her. This guy knew what he was, and had no problem

discussing it with complete strangers. I don't know if that made him crazy, or

if all the passing years had managed to erode some of his humanity back into

the open.  He admitted that he was still

killing, yet he seemed to redeem himself that others in the city were worse. I didn't

think there was a comparison. His longevity alone made his crime more repugnant

because he had committed them for so long. By his own admission, he was still

preying on the weak.

                I had

Maggie snap a photo of the letter and send it to Verona. The reply I got back

was terse. "Don't go anywhere near him for now."

                Like it

mattered. He could come to me anytime he wanted, whether it was through the

front door or the balcony door. That was pretty impressive for an old guy. I

found that my spine was playing host to a whole lot of bad vibes, and it was

making me a little more than crazy. I couldn't help but imagine his eyes gleaming through the windows, so many floors up from the busy street below.

                We

locked the place down like a fortress and spent the whole night awake. Maggie

suggested that we occupy ourselves in a pleasant manner again, and while I wasn't

in the mood, it was a better thing than just laying there wondering.

                I was

sluggish to respond to her amorous attention, and she finally go exasperated

enough to bite me. "Look! There is no point in worrying so much. I think that if

he wanted us dead, he would have done it already. The fact that we're still here,

living and breathing is proof of that. Now do try and get into the mood!"

                After

recent events, this was a change of character for her, but I think that deep

down inside, she was still spooked. I think she wanted to have a diversion and

I was the best thing there was at the moment. I tried to drive away the horror

in my mind and turn it to more pleasant things.

                She

went full out, changing into her full feral self. She was on top, and worked herself

over me in a very un-wolflike manner. I'll just bet there were a few males lupines out

there in the wild that would have flipped out if this had been offered up by

one of their bitches. She was a snug little fit, and when she was done slipping

over me, she had my full attention.

                She was

careful to keep her paws on either side of me, and thus spared me from any

injury from her wicked claws. Her tongue was free to do as it pleased, and I

was soon covered in slobber from her incessant, and I might add, neurotic need

to try and please me. This was the most frightened I had ever seen her, and

just as Verona might deny she was in heat, Maggie was bound and determined to

make as if she were still in control. That was an illusion anyone could have

seen through.

                Her

lower body soon turned into a pumping machine, pushing down and pulling up with

a hypnotic rhythm. Since this wasn't her normal way, I had to assume she was

trying to make us last until the wee hours of the morning.  Good luck on that!

                This time,

I got fed up with the nearly mind-numbing regularity of her movements. It was

nice; it just wasn't her. Sort of like drinking iced tea when you had been

drinking cola. You might like both, but you knew what you were expecting when you took a sip. I went on the

offensive and rolled us over.

                "My my!

Some one  is feeling superior!"

                "Shut

up Maggie. I've gotten so use to sex being a free-for-all with you that I can't

take this calm stuff for very long."

                She

smiled. "Me either. It's just that I don't think I can close my eyes and go to

sleep. You know, at least my victims don't know it was coming until it was too

late. Sitting and waiting for this guy is killing me!"

                It made

sense. Sometimes what you expected to happened was worse than what really did

happen.

                "True.

So shut up and I'll do my best to drive every last vestige of his presence out

of your sweet little mind!"

                "Deal!"

                I soon

had her back legs twitching uncontrollably. I was suffering for it, but nothing

I couldn't patch up in the morning. I rubbed her chest and belly, digging my nails

into her sides and scratching her fur. I got lost in what I was doing, and

wondered what it would be like having a pack of wolves as a harem. It didn't even

know if such a thing was possible, but it would be fun to find out. I might try

it in the future, once I could change. There was no point in not being prepared

for the worse. Me as a human with a pack of wolves might not go over well.

                Me with

one little wolf, albeit a werewolf, was more than plenty. We settled down for

some intense pleasuring, and I soon had her yipping and yowling with joy. It

was enough for me to see her happy, for she was often the most joyous when

doing those things that were the most primal. It was unusual that she had taken a

notice earlier of some of the more mundane things, but perhaps being so close

to the near likeness of death had jarred her attention to the plainer and simpler things.

                We

carried on long into the night, and if you really want to know all that we did,

I'll tell you what. Tough. Some things are better left to the imagination.