Curse of Ferreus

7 - Fragmented Plans

I wake with a plan of action and a cramp in my arm, after a night curled up on the back seat of my stolen car.

As I sit up and stretch, idly surveying the car park and the woods as I come awake properly, I run through the fragments of my plan.

The first step to taking on a pack of werewolves is to map out their land. Finding out their routes, their schedules, and their numbers must wait until I know exactly where they feel most comfortable.

Werewolves rarely venture out of their land — especially if they're under siege from a rival pack edging closer and closer — except to wrestle back their stolen territory. Their home is where they are most at ease. Most vulnerable.

The only way to discern where exactly these territory lines are is to ask the right people the right questions. If the town is a war zone between rival packs, and if the citizens are looking the other way, they'll know exactly where it's safe and where it isn't.

I could use the rivalry to my advantage. Now I know their calling card — the Othala — I can start picking off the weaker wolves and play it off as their enemies. Dwindle their numbers, get them panicking and acting irrationally and making mistakes.

With werewolves wandering the streets without consequence, I deem it safer to hide my holster of throwing blades beneath my hoodie instead of leaving them useless in my car. The belt pressing against my waist is a welcome, familiar sensation. One that lends me some semblance of comfort and a promise of defence, should I need it.

When it comes to asking townsfolk about any suspicious activity, I believe I know just the person to start with.

As I walk towards the bookstore, I pass the alleyway where I found the dead body and where those werewolves gathered to start sniffing blood. Now, it's sectioned off with police tape, but the blood is all gone and no one seems to even glance in its general direction. As though nothing happened. Strange.

I find Laura amongst the aisles of overflowing books in her store, wrestling with a haphazard pile in her arms.

"Hello, again," she greets warmly, peeking at me over the top of her tower of books.

"Need any help?" I ask.

"Please." She practically shoves the books into my waiting arms. "Seb's actually here today, believe it or not. He's in the back but I'm sure we can find something for you to do."

"Oh, I'm actually not here to work today," I admit, offering her an apologetic smile. "I heard about the body they found— it's awful."

Laura makes a small, noncommittal noise and busies herself stocking shelves. "Body? What body?"

I frown lightly, resting my shoulder against a nearby bookcase. "The one they found in the alley. Everyone's talking about it at the motel— well, everyone's whispering about it."

"What are they saying?" she asks, glancing at me sharply as intrigue lights up behind her eyes. Laura, it seems, has a penchant for gossip, and it's something I can exploit.

"That there's a gang war, or something. They say it's the third one this week. Isn't it on the news?"

"I, uh... haven't had a chance to look," she dismisses, turning abruptly back to her work. "Poor guy."

"So there are gangs? Should I be worried? I don't want to be mugged in the street— or killed, either," I rant, putting a hint of melodrama into my tone. As the words spill out of my mouth, I realise I never mentioned the body being a guy. Suspicion prickles at the edges of my focus.

"Listen, I'm sure it was just an accident. There are no gangs," Laura insists, retreating around another aisle and, I muse, definitely avoiding my gaze. "Not that I know of, anyway."