KATARINA: VAMPIRE (SLAY/LOV)ER

Part IV - Frenemies

Fast forward one month.

The crisp autumn air left a menthol tinge in Mark's nose. Rays of the rising sun broke through the trees and the world came alive. Mark heard the coo of a mourning dove and shimmy of a squirrel. He took a slug of his coffee and set the tumbler in the cupholder of his tree stand; he was hunting.

This expedition provided two thinks for Mark. One, it has been a few years since he bagged a buck and make venison jerky. Two, he could do some recon and search for any clues to the abnormal behavior that has been plaguing the local deer populous.

One idea crossed Mark's mind as to what the cause could be, but he didn't want to believe it. "It can't be that," he thought. "Not out here in Washington."

A few hours passed. Nothing. Mark started to doze off.

Crack. Crunch. Crackle.

His eyes shot open. Mark stayed as still as possible while scanning his surroundings. About forty yards ahead he could see the hooves of a deer slowly moving from left to right – the body and head of the deer were obscured by evergreen branches – there was no chance at a clear shot.

Suddenly the deer shrieked out. From what Mark could see, the deer's hooves were stomping in a panic and there was... something else there. Although his view was largely obscured, he caught a quick glance at the attacking beast. He had a gut feeling what it was, but knew he had to find a way to verify.

"I thought I left that life behind," he rattled around in his mind. "I guess the past always catches up. Out of all people..."

The deer cut through the brush and stumbled towards Mark. That was the least of his worries – the attacker was still at large. "Did he see me? Does he know I'm out here?" Showing the same signs of attack as the others, it looked as if a mountain lion clawed its shoulders and took a bit out of its neck. About twenty yards away now the deer turned and let out a longwinded, confused grunt. Under normal circumstances this would have been the perfect opportunity for Mark to take the deer out as respectfully as possible with one well-placed shot. Though Mark had no intention of using the meat from this deer he considered putting it out of its misery. But taking a shot would most likely compromise his position, and he couldn't afford that. Even with a high-powered hunting rifle the odds were stacked against him.

A few hours had passed, and the sun was shining from directly overhead. High noon. No signs of life have showed themselves since the incident that morning. Mark felt safe enough to come down from his tree stand and head to work.

*                    *                    *

Mark leaned back in his office chair, head back, staring at the ceiling of the station. He used his legs to rock back and forth to pass the time; like most days there really wasn't much going on in the small town of Everett, Washington.

"Been a while since I've had some action," he said to nobody as he threw a red delicious up in the air.

The speaker on his desk phone beeped on. "Uhh, sheriff."

Startled, he fumbled while catching the apple. He took a bite before responding. "What's cooking, Beth?" He asked while munching.

"One of your daughter's – friends? Yeah – friends are here. Kayla?" Beth was a new receptionist and didn't know the regulars.

"Kayla! Yeah, it's been a minute since she's swung by. Send her up."

Not quite the high-speed police action he was hoping for but better than nothing.