Werewolves Don't Wear Cowboy Boots

Chapter 11: Vampire lessons in etiquette

"If I'd known I'd be dealing with a werewolf..." the older man started to say, then trailed off. "But we're like scouts. We're always prepared. Trunk, Nick."

While he was talking, Colum wrenched the bat from his hands and retreated several steps, simultaneously trying to work out what it was they wanted and also what to do about them. The bat was wood, so if he broke it he would easily have a stake to use, but then he didn't really relish the idea of stabbing anyone through the heart, vampire or otherwise.

Colum's eyes flitted between Nick, who was walking toward the back of the car, and the other one, who was advancing on him with the steady, patient air of a predator who knows he has the upper hand. "Do you mind telling me," Colum said, shifting his hold on the bat and contemplating the idea of running, "what it is you're doing here?"

"This is where the girl lives, isn't it? The redhead?" He replied, voice calm and business-like and a polite smile on his lips. "I'm afraid she saw a little more than she was meant to. But she also might know something about a friend of ours who has been missing for a few days."

"He was last seen with that bitch," Nick's voice had venom in it as he opened the trunk, but he laughed when he saw the way Colum's jaw clenched. "Ha! Bitch. I guess, in this case, that's literal, right?"

Colum decided not to enlighten them about just how human his sister was, and the older man responded to the taunt with a gentle 'tsk.' "Manners, Nick, even with the mutts. Now," he stopped his slow advance and planted his feet, holding out his arms in a peaceful gesture. "Suppose you call the girl and tell her we'd like to talk?"

Nick closed the trunk and started to walk toward them, and Colum eyed him to see what it was he'd retrieved, feeling the least bit of relief at the flash of a blade in the darkness. At least he wouldn't be trying to dodge silver bullets, he told himself as he focused his attention on the older man again. "Well, if that's all you want..." Both men tensed when he reached into his pocket, then seemed to relax when all he pulled out was a phone, though the older one still kept a wary eye on him as he sent a call through. "Bridget," he said calmly when someone picked up on the other end of the line, "you've two vampires standing in the driveway insisting you come talk to them."

He could just hear O'Neill let out a colorful curse, and then he ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. He was on his own, and no phone call could change that, but at least someone was forewarned for Bridget's sake.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Nick grinned.

"Oh, I don't think he called his sister," the older man said, tapping Nick's arm and giving him some sort of signal. "One thing you can count on werewolves for is a ridiculously overdeveloped sense of loyalty. Doesn't matter. She'll get the message soon enough."

Colum made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. "You should hope not," he said, shifting his grip on the bat just a bit. And then he threw it at them, buying seconds for himself when they dodged out of the way, and ran, hoping his superior knowledge of the terrain would give him enough of an advantage to get away. 'And then where?' he asked himself. Hiding in any of the buildings would be useless, and they would be able to find him – or worse, burn him out – easily enough. He couldn't very well risk anyone else's safety by taking cover at any of the other nearby houses. And the country here offered no substantial shelter at all – no trees or hills or convenient natural shelters. The nearest one would be a small ravine with a dried up creek bed, but even that was at least three miles away across flat, open ground.

He could hear footsteps pounding after him – Nick's most likely – closer than he would like, but with just enough distance to give him something to work with. He made a sudden turn, sliding behind the old barn on the property and tumbling into the shadows of some of the farm equipment stored there by the family who owned the land. Near the edge of the barn, he could hear the sounds of running feet slowing down, and then carefully moving forward. Colum took a few breaths to try to prepare himself, then slowly started to go into a partial shift, gritting his teeth against the pain that always came with the changes to his muscles and bones, not to mention his growing nails and teeth. It gave him some sympathy for fussy babies, that pain. In his other form, though, even with only a partial shift, he could hear and smell the vampire on the wind, and he crouched in the darkness and waited. At just the right moment, he leaped out at the vampire and sent him tumbling to the ground, silver knife flying off in the scrub somewhere. Colum pinned him, claws tearing through the fabric of his shirt, as he tried to reign in the part of his wolf self that wanted to rip the creature's throat out. He barely managed it, snapping at the man just inches from his face, and then leaping off him and bounding toward the field – just before a shot rang out and he felt fire flare in his shoulder.

*****

Note: That's all for tonight. More next week!