Eclipse of Vengeance

14.The Wolves in the Barn

Roughly three years ago...

Bedford, Indiana

Eric and Leon were both seated at the kitchen table, passing a bottle of bourbon back and forth. The watery early morning sun seeping through the blinds behind Leon. They were both in their mid-thirties, and were close friends. I mindlessly listened to the pair gabbing about their most recent hunts, Eric's being a clan of turned vampires in Nebraska and Leon's a shadow weaver in Kentucky. Both seemingly jolly from the alcohol they've ingested, sparing no details from the other-especially the killing aspect.

My legs trembled beneath me as I tucked myself beside the fridge and counter, just hoping they'd completely forget about my existence. That the jolliness would likely turn to aggravation once they remembered I was here. The lashes across my back are still roaring after my last punishment. Every breath and movement rippled fire throughout my skin. The black and tan flannel over my gray tank top sticking to the wounds. The crime responsible for my lashings was letting two shifters-a mother and daughter live on my last hunt. Neither of them were killing people, so I didn't see why it was necessary to kill them. They didn't choose to be born shifters, but they were choosing to not kill people.

I stared down at the grimy checkered floor, my heart pounding underneath my chest. Tara was sending me after a pack of werewolves in Oregon. I have never dealt with a pack before, let alone by myself. From what I've been told pack's vary in size, and this one was composed of at least a dozen wolves. This felt like a death sentence, but I was okay with that.

My spine stiffened as Tara entered the kitchen with a box of ammo in her hand. Eric and Leon had nothing on that woman's wickedness "You two fuckwads best not drink all my bourbon," Tara grumpily muttered before flicking her haughty eyes to me.

She marched towards me, slamming the box on the counter beside me. I did my best to conceal my flinch as the nausea that twisted in my stomach at the box thumping against the counter-how it slightly resembled the sound of the whip cracking.

"Are you done being a crybaby?" Tara spit, her vile alcohol tainted breath wafting into my face. I clenched my teeth, lowering my gaze back to the floor. I knew better than to make a comment back. Knew that the question was rhetorical. "The pack is fifteen minutes outside of Florence, Oregon. I already marked it on the map in your car... I swear to Christ if we have a repeat of your last hunt," she scoffed, adding a taunting laugh. "Well not even he will be able to save you from what will happen next."

Lifting my eyes, I just nodded. Although, I wouldn't be like them. I would not kill innocent beings-no matter what creatures they were. I wouldn't lose the last bits of myself-the pieces that are currently hanging on by a thin thread.

"Good," she mumbled, twisting back to Leon and Eric. "You both hear that? She says she's going to be a good girl now."

I forced my features into neutrality, slumping my shoulders under their scrutinizing glares. Eric was especially pissed at me, because he was ordered to track down and kill the mother and daughter-to fix my mistake. Of the three sets of eyes burning through me, Leon's was the least intense. His glare almost forced, a pity gleaming beneath the surface. He was the goon I liked-no tolerated the most. When he carried out punishments they weren't as brutal or merciless as Eric or the others that had their head's up Tara's ass-but he still did it.

"You are wasting daylight, get moving," She commanded in a stony voice.

I spared no time getting out of that kitchen, away from the demons in there. I honestly believe a real demon would show more empathy than them. My stomach churned as my eyes betrayed me glancing at the plastic black whip hanging on the wall, dried blood still coating it-my blood.