I prefer being a man. Sure, running fast with the wind in my face and fur is thrilling, and people who've only smelled and eaten cooked meat with human olfactory senses will never know what it's like to rip into a big chunk of beef, hot, juicy, and bloody, and gulp it down. Or lap water from a pond, and taste the fish and turtles that dwell there, the cattails, and water bugs, and let's face it, their excretions. As wolf, I am of the world, part of it, another bit of flesh and bone.
As a man, I can perceive beyond my senses, unlike the pure wolf. I know and live in a world more than my limited human senses.
When I became a werewolf, bitten by a werewolf burglar in my house, the police and authorities offered me a position as investigator. A police officer who can transform into an animal that can trail a lost child, or hear a bat squeaking, or a gunshot from blocks away is a valuable partner. I have partnered with Deputy Kathy Mayfield for the last ten years.
Let me explain, werewolves are hard to control in wolf form to begin with. It's hard to master the animal senses, and if a werewolf eats human flesh, it gets harder. Sure, I've bitten people—in the line of duty, but I've never cannibalized, so I control the wolf. My wolf also defers to Kathy, my alpha.
We have our weaknesses. We're hard to kill. We can be injured if you know what to do, but we heal quickly and, after all, will fight to death. Yours. A silver bullet won't kill us unless it's a mortal wound, but silver suppresses the human mind temporarily, leaving pure wolf, and our wolf is lethal.
It was the last night of the month. This night, with a full moon hiding behind clouds, and occasionally throwing a moonbeam down, Kathy and I received orders to go to Monthly Check Cashing. FYI, check cashing businesses get a lot of cash for the first of the month to cash checks. Thieves know this, and sometimes target them. Trespassers, shots fired, officer down, officer needs assistance.
We were there in 57 seconds, pulling up behind Car 15. We heard a gunshot. Deputy Roald Green jumped out the door and rolled as another shot whizzed over his head. I began to transform, the werewolf DNA taking over as Kathy drew her gun and checked it. Fortunately, she was wearing a vest.
A little girl crouched beside Car 15, crying and calling "Daddy, Daddy!" Kathy put her in our car for safety.
I led the way to Roald, who was crawling back beside the open door of the business. His partner, Tony Hoover, lay unconscious on the ground nearby.
Monthly Check Cashing was in a former house. Nasty place to enter. Too many rooms and doors and windows. But I can smell and hear what I can't see.
We reached Roald. I smelled his blood, not much, and his wound was minor. I pawed twice at him, the signal to let Kathy know he was not in immediate danger from his wounds. I sniffed at Tony. He blinked and looked at me, nodding. I let Kathy know he, too, was not critically injured. So far.
"The girl's the daughter of one of the owners," said Roald. "Two men and a woman inside. One man is dead, one of the owners."
Kathy radioed for an ambulance. I sniffed the wind and growled. I smelled blood, someone dead or dying. Gunpower. Another man and a woman. I didn't know if they were two thieves or thief and possible hostage. I looked at Kathy and signaled what I'd learned. She nodded. I love Kathy, both as partner and alpha. She's the best.
"Police! Werepolice!" A necessary legal warning. "Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands in the air. Both of you!"
A gun flew through the door. We waited. I signaled Kathy two people were coming. A man stumbled out the door and down the steps, hands in the air. Right behind him came a tall woman, satchel on her shoulder, gun pointed at the man's head. A hostage.
The man stumbled. "Don't shoot me. You killed my brother. Stop her," he cried, looking at us. He stood there trembling, tears on his face.
"A werewolf," the woman said, sneering. "Interesting. "Never faced a wolfcop before. You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." She laughed, a hearty, happy, guffaw, oddly. She reeked of adrenalin. A junkie.
She yanked the man, but he sagged. She was very strong and held him up. He was shocked, limp, and I could smell the fear rolling off him.
An ambulance bellowed, 'Move, move, I'm coming,' in the distance.
The thief yanked the man again and stood behind him for cover. "You drop the gun or Daddy's little girl is an orphan." Again, the sneer.
"Drop your weapon. Put your hands up," said Kathy.
"Or what? You'll sic the wolf on me? I've been hoping for the chance to take down a werewolf. I'll be a legend. He'll get a mouthful of Daddy first, and I'll get you. Get busy living or get busy dying."
Kathy said with a magnificent patience, "You really don't know how this goes, do you? My partner is a werewolf, hard to kill. You get him; I get you."
The thief fired, hitting Kathy in the upper right of her vest. Stunned, Kathy dropped and gasped for breath. The man fainted, and the thief dropped him. Surprisingly, the woman pulled another gun and fired a silver bullet at me. It clipped my ear, stinging like fire. I felt the wolf straining to gain control. I howled.
"Wolfie. I've got a silver knife to finish you off." She'd prepared for the day—or night, she'd face a wolfcop.
Kathy groaned. She was out of the fight. I wasn't. I relaxed and let the wolf rule.
"Your turn, wolfie. Then I'm out of here with lots and lots of money."
A wolfcop and partner are a team, a pack of two. It's not all sniffing trails or listening for faint sounds. Take me down, my alpha gets you. Take my alpha down, no one stops me. I leapt.
