 
The Wolves of Third Clan

By Matt Rogers

Copyright 2013 Matt Rogers

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Chapter 1

START FROM THE BEGINNING.

The beginning?

YES.

Okay, I guess a good place to start is when Bob Simpson entered the lobby and said...

"My God, it's hot outside!"

For some reason the man enjoyed stating the obvious.

"Is everyone ready?" he said.

Of course we were ready; we were standing in the lobby with briefcases in hand. Did he think suddenly we wouldn't be ready? If confronted with a question we'd clam up and forget how to answer?

"Johnny, you've got the acquisition estimates?" he asked.

"Right here, boss" I said.

"Steve, you got the contracts?"

"Yes, sir."

Steve was one of my co-workers. Relatively smart, a good dresser and hired to do the same job as me so, naturally, I abhorred the man.

"Melissa, did you bring the brochures?"

"Uh-huh, Mr. Simpson, they're right here."

Melissa was a beauty with an hourglass figure and the IQ of lettuce. It didn't slow down her occupational opportunities, though, because we were in Dallas...

DALLAS, TEXAS?

... yep, a city governed by men who came from businesses run by men which appreciated the qualities a runway model with limited grey matter could bring to the table; a great smell and the most gorgeous violet eyes you've ever seen.

WHY DALLAS?

It's where the economics of the game dictated.

"Okay, everyone, get your hands in here" Bob said.

When did they start doing that?

START DOING WHAT?

When did managers or team leaders or whatever title they give themselves start performing the embarrassing act of imitating a pre-game pep rally? Whoever came up with the idea should be tar and feathered. Hey, was that ever really done?

TAR AND FEATHERING?

Yes, did we really tar and feather people in the old days?

I'M NOT SURE.

It seems like a strange form of punishment.

"On three" Bob said.

Now, it'd been on three for over three months so I was thinking of throwing a curveball; you know, saying "Three? Let's do four" but I didn't because, while I may be sarcastic, it's the cowardly kind I employ.

"One, two, three..."

"... Team!"

Yay.

Elevators are weird.

WEIRD?

Yes, you push a button and wait. Someone else comes along and pushes the same lit button you previously pushed because, I guess, they thought you did it wrong. You then stand there in silence playing some mental guessing game as to which elevator will arrive first and when it does you get directly in front of the doors so when they open the people exiting will be met with your wall of humanity. They want to get out and you want to get in but we haven't been trained for that kind of situation have we?

NO?

No, we've been trained to pass on the left or the right but there is no left or right, only a bunch of people standing between you and your elevator which was programmed with some sort of electronic-impatience device and outfitted with menacing automatic doors you need to take a leap of faith won't crush your arm as you thrust it between them in order to stop the infernal machine from leaving you stranded and looking like a person who couldn't push a button properly.

"Is everyone ready?" he actually said again as we arrived at our floor.

"Yes, Boss."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Mr. Simpson."

The elevator door opened and we were greeted with the view of another hallway devoid of anyone so we didn't do the human-tango with other elevator commuters on exit. The entire floor belonged to the company we were calling on, Commercial Property Management Incorporated, a mega-landlord which did everything from hiring security to greasing the palms of local chiefs to stay in compliance with insanely out-of-date fire codes. The hallway was two-hundred feet long, painted light blue, and at the far end were two frosted-glass doors guarded by a man the size of a rhinoceros who asked us our names, checked his clipboard, and let us in. No one thought for a second of cracking a joke with the guy.

The walls were adorned with paintings which cost more than my old car and the floor was covered in beige carpet so clean a maid must've vacuumed hourly. There were four blue sofas with glass coffee tables in front of each and at the far wall was a four-foot high reception desk with a gorgeous secretary welcoming us with a friendly smile and eager-to-please eyes.

"Hello, can I help you?" she purred.

"Yes, we're from Industrial Products and we're here to see Mr. North" Bob replied.

AND YOU WERE...?

Cleaning-supplies salespeople.

"Let me see if he's available. If you'll have a seat I'm sure he'll be right with you" she responded and lifted the telephone.

We turned and made our way to the sofas on the right side of the room, Mr. Simpson and Melissa shared one, leaving me and Steve the other. While sitting I noticed we'd left our shoe imprints on the carpet indicating the maid must've literally been the last person to walk on the thing before us. If we were Hansel and Gretel we could've easily found our way out of the Witch's Forrest.

Okay, before I go any further I'm assuming you're wondering why there were four of us schlepping our wares instead of the traditional lone salesman. It's because the economy took a nose dive a few years back leaving a bunch of otherwise intelligent people at the mercy of anyone or anything who would put a couple of dollars in their bank account. In our case it was Industrial Products who decided to try a whole new approach with a show of force. You send one sales guy, they'll send two. You want to raise them and send three?

SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.

Fine, they'll send four. It didn't matter to them because they paid their people on commission. You don't sell, they don't pay. Uh-huh, the economy really gave us a nice wedgie there. You see, if there's, say, forty people applying for one job then the employer's got quite the upper hand in the bargaining department. Now, multiply forty by ten and you're at the point where employers not only have the upper hand, they've got the rule book and begin rewriting it anyway they see fit. For salespeople it meant no base-salary plus commission; only commission. Sell and get a percentage of the cut; don't sell and they'll fill your shoes with one of the thousands of other schmo's who were desperately hoping you'd fail so they could get a shot at some financial relief. Where was the government?

ON VACATION?

They were busy on their hands and knees praying you'd keep a job and pay your taxes so they could quit printing money to pay their own people. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming companies or corporations for using the cards they were dealt, I probably would too, I'm only saying it's not exactly ideal for employee morale.

"Did you watch the game this weekend?" Steve asked me.

"Yeah, what a disaster."

"We should fire the coach" he said.

Now, it was quite ironic because it came from a man who until recently was out of work himself. Humans seem to be a species which does best at wishing the worst upon others. The coach he was talking about had a history of going to the playoffs three years in a row, bringing relief and distraction to the millions of fans whose only chance of playing was on a gaming video.

"Yeah, what was with the time outs?" I said because I was one of those gamers.

"Tell me about it" he replied.

I was about to reveal what an intelligent coach would've done thus impressing him with my incredible sports knowledge when I was interrupted by the pretty secretary with the afore mentioned, come-hither eyes.

"Mr. North will see you now."

Mr. North's office was strangely on the south side of the corridor. If I bug you with my directional acumen, I'm sorry, but I was in Dallas and after driving their freeways I've found keeping track of oneself according to compass nomenclature is the only way to figure out where those confounding roadways are heading. A case in point; one time I found myself driving south on the North Tollway merging onto Interstate 35 East, still going south mind you, which I stayed on until I saw a sign indicating Interstate 35 West heading north. What if I were a tourist from Canada?

HUH?

Do you think I might come away with the impression Texans don't use compass headings for navigation? Oh, and check this out. They also give one freeway two separate names. The previously mentioned Interstate 35 East is also called the Stemmons Freeway.

WHY?

How should I know? Maybe the Stemmons person invented something good but that's not the point.

WHAT IS THE POINT?

It's confusing. Who names those dysfunctional freeways, some descendant from the Donner Party?

WHO WERE THE DONNER PARTY?

People who lost their way.

OH.

Really? All this time and you've never thought about expanding your horizons, maybe read a book or two?

I'VE BEEN BUSY.

With what?

WORLD DOMINATION.

Oh, yeah.

"Hello, I'm Peter North" the man said while standing and, to my shock, revealing himself to be an even larger rhino than the mastiff at the front gates.

"Hi, I'm Bob Simpson and this is Steve, Melissa, and Johnny."

He shook Bob and Steve's hands, barely glanced at me, and virtually devoured Melissa with his eyes.

"What can I do for you?"

"We're from Industrial Products and we'd like to see if we could be of any use to your company" Bob responded.

"Let's see what you've got" the enormous Peter North said.

Okay, this is where it got a little weird because it was here Melissa was to furnish our brochure so Peter North could follow along with Bob as he impressed upon him the great advantage of our products and services over the vast array of other products and services which did the exact same thing. We had it down to an art form; everyone had a role to play and we'd rehearsed it so many times I could repeat my lines in my sleep. Therefore, I was a bit surprised when it went off script.

"Melissa?" Bob asked

"Now!" she yelled.

I was stunned as the two salesmen from Industrial Products leapt in unison at our potential client. What happened next left me even more dumbstruck. Peter North moved with a speed I didn't know existed; one second looking at Melissa with what I thought was bemusement at her strange behavior and the next with a look of contempt as he held the throats of Bob and Steve whom he'd caught in midair. As they struggled I saw Peter look at me, smile, then glance at Melissa and un-smile for in her hands was a pistol with silencer and before I could comprehend what was happening Peter North's head snapped back like jet-pilot's on takeoff.

"What the...?"

Is what I believe I said but I can't be certain because after the initial shock of the pistol's whispered retort I was learning how I'd respond to a sudden, life-threatening situation. I found out I'd stand stock-still for a second, shout something incoherent, and scatter as far away as possible from the red-head with the firearm. For her part, Melissa was acting strangely serene and composed; walking up to the previously living Peter North, aiming directly at his unmoving head, and firing four more silent rounds into it. I'd heard the term 'overkill' before but never knew its proper place. So there I was, bravely sheltering behind a five-foot tall floor lamp when she turned and shot Bob Simpson in the heart before doing the same to Steve, both remaining immobile as she did it, leaving me as the last sane living person in the room. I recall the events which transpired next because it became very surreal for a moment with Melissa walking over to a painting and removing it from the wall to reveal a safe which she began unlocking by dialing a combination.

"Get the door" she said after removing the piece of paper.

PROOF OF THE DEED?

Yep... it's all she needed.

Chapter 2

"Okay" I managed to utter while realizing the foolishness of hiding behind a one-inch piece of copper-plated tin but as I was reaching for the doorknob I heard footsteps walking down the hallway.

"Hold up" she ordered and I instinctively complied as to the lunatic with a weapon.

"Peter! Are you okay in there?" a man asked and a bullet flew past my head in reply.

"Jesus...!" I think I said but once again I can't be sure because it's hard to remember when you're trying desperately not to urinate.

"Open the door."

This time I didn't hear any footsteps so I turned the knob and opened the door to reveal a very large but very dead security guard on the floor.

"Move."

"Okay, don't shoot me" I said.

"I won't if you do what I say."

Sounded fair to me so I did what she said and moved down the hall toward the reception area where the pretty secretary with the bedroom eyes first met us. There was no one there; just me and crazy, dumb, beautiful Melissa who didn't seem as unintelligent as she'd been letting on.

"Press the 'up' button."

"The 'up' button?"

"Don't question me."

Okay the 'up' button it is. You don't need to tell me twice, not when you've got a loaded pistol in your hand. Now, I'm thinking you might be getting the wrong impression of my courageousness or lack thereof but you're wrong. I've talked to many people and they've all said the same thing; bullets hurt. I don't particularly like pain. Maybe it's only me but I never fully buy into the scene where the hero turns around and disarms the bad guy with such amazing skill the villain is left mystified at their reversal of fortunes. Why didn't he just pull the trigger?

I WOULD.

Me too. I know it'd end the movie sooner but at least it'd be more believable than an otherwise ruthless outlaw having such poor finger-flexing ability.

TRUE.

So anyway, there I was riding in an elevator with a crazy person and I've got to admit it was a strange experience. I mean, what do you say at a time like that?

I DON'T KNOW?

I'll tell you.

"What floor?"

"Top floor."

"Top floor it is."

That's what you say when you find yourself riding in an elevator with a crazy person.

So we took the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor, got out, and Melissa indicated with her gun I should move east toward the stairway entrance. We got in the stairwell, walked up to the last landing and were met by locked door.

"Wait."

I did, and she moved right up behind me, took aim, and shot three times into the handle. After nearly fainting I realized she'd used me as a shield in case the bullets ricocheted off the door which I guess was smart but she'd better never ask me for a reference if she wants to pursue another job in the sales and marketing sector. Luckily the lock was mostly for show, probably a last ditch attempt to stop someone from using the roof as a smoking lounge or suicide takeoff spot. We stepped out on the roof where she reached into her pocket and pulled out a cellphone.

"Now! Hurry!" she yelled into the mouthpiece.

She hung up and looked directly into my eyes as I stood still. I got the impression she was considering shooting me there on the spot. What for? I could only guess. But having witnessed her kill four people was probably near the top. I was seriously considering begging for my life when I heard a dull hum in the air which grew louder until suddenly a helicopter exploded into view on the west side of the tower. I'd never seen a helicopter up close and it was pretty cool, what with all the rushing air and everything. Now, I might've been influenced by the fact Melissa seemed to change her mind about killing me which could've had something to do with my amazement at the sight of the ten-ton metal flying contraption but that's not really important.

"Let's go! Move it!" she yelled while taking off like an Olympic sprinter and I obeyed as fast as I could which was nowhere near quick enough because from behind me came the sound of the roof-access door exploding outward followed by gunfire.

I don't know if it was the sound or the fact I was becoming an expert at having bullets whiz by my head but I did the correct thing; I hit the ground so hard I gave myself a bloody nose. I looked up to see the helicopter leaping away from the rooftop and Melissa in the copilot's seat taking dead aim at me with her pistol and I again did the only thing which seemed appropriate at the time; I slammed my face back down. I sensed a bullet zing by my head, heard more gunfire from behind and waited for the resulting pain of searing metal to enter my body but instead I felt nothing. I don't know how long I lay there but when I raised my head to see if the helicopter was gone I felt a knee slam in my back and some guy's voice yelling "Don't move!" which was kind of redundant if you think about it.

I was blindfolded and my hands were tied behind my back as I was led down the stairwell by what I think was one guard onto what I guess was the twenty-sixth floor since I don't believe we went down more than one landing but I could be wrong.

"Look, I'm the victim here" I said and received no response as I stumbled along like a drunken brother-in-law at an open-bar wedding reception.

If you ever watch a movie where the hero, victim or heroine is blindfolded and the person doesn't completely freak out you need to turn the thing off. I once heard we were a visually oriented species and I'm here to verify whoever said it is the most spot-on correct person ever. The world goes black and every sensory organ you've got decides it's time to give false and misleading information about whatever's around you. The ground feels uneven, sounds come from every direction and your nose is useless; like a fork with chicken broth or male nipples.

"Stop" the guy said as I heard the jingling of keys and the sound of a door opening.

"Okay, look I think we've got a slight mix-up here. I'm just a sales rep who was..." I began.

"Shut up" he said.

And I silently named him Captain Kindness.

So I shut my mouth and stood there waiting for my senses to compensate for the lack of sight... and waited... and waited.... If I'm ever struck blind you might as well kill me because, I swear, my other senses are not coming to my aid no matter how hard you ask them.

I'm not sure how long I waited because whatever internal organ I have in charge of detecting time is also defective. It felt like forever; like Sunday mass during football season.

"Who is it?" I heard Commander Compassion ask someone in the hallway.

"It's me" was the reply.

"You surprised me. How's that possible?"

"I don't know. Let's find out" the woman's voice said.

The door opened, I was grabbed by the front of my shirt collar and jerked out the room.

"Un-blindfold him" the woman ordered.

When it was removed I found myself looking into the face of an angel. She was five-foot-six inches tall with blond hair, blue-eyes and the prettiest set of lips you've ever seen.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Johnny Johnson."

"Who do you work for?"

"Industrial Products."

"What do you do?"

"I'm just a sales rep."

"Where do you live?"

"10005 Riverside Drive, Apartment 305..."

"What's the name of the assassin?"

"Who?"

And then she slapped me.

"What's the name of the woman who jumped into the helicopter?"

"Melissa! Jesus, lady, you didn't have to hit me! I'm just an innocent bystander."

"Then why are you still alive?"

"I don't have any idea!"

And she slapped me again. I'm kind of old fashioned and where I come from you don't hit women but, I've got to tell you, everything changes when you get slapped while your hands are tied behind your back; it's not sporting and stings like the dickens. Now, my hands were tied but I wasn't completely helpless, heck no, I had a complete arsenal at my command and I lit into her with everything I had.

"Ouch! Stop it!"

My arsenal was then depleted.

"Once again, why are you still alive?'" she screamed.

"I don't know! Maybe she needed a human shield or something? How should I know?"

Then she stood there and stared into my eyes. I don't know what she was trying to determine but the sense of déjà vu was surreal. It was the same deep and penetrating stare Melissa gave me on the rooftop. The more I think about it; it was the same stare Melissa gave Peter North before she shot him. The more I further think about it; it was eerily similar to the stare Peter North gave Melissa before she gave it back to him with five bullets.

"Lock the door and keep watch" she ordered.

Mr. Personality did and I found myself back inside the unfurnished office with my hands bound and the uncomfortable feeling I was both in a lot of trouble and in need of peeing.

"Hey! I need to use the bathroom!" I yelled, waited, and felt my need grow further.

"Hey! Seriously, I've really got to go!" which got me more silence.

I was at quite the crossroad there. One; I needed to pee. Two; my hands were tied behind my back. Three... okay, I guess one and two covered it.

"I swear to God if you don't open this door and let me use the restroom I'm going to..." I began before thinking...

'What? What am I going to do? Pee on their floor?'

Yep, I was going to threaten them with peeing on their floor. I vowed to myself then and there when I got out of the situation I was going straight down to the contortionist's office and learn to dislocate shoulders, move hands from back to front, and wriggle free of handcuffs, slip-ties, or whatever else a person uses for bondage. Uh-huh, but first I had to pee, really bad, the kind of bad where you catch yourself hopping up and down in order to stop it from involuntarily happening. What kind of a coping mechanism is that anyway?

WHAT, JUMPING UP AND DOWN?

Yes. Do you think God never thought we'd evolve long enough to make public urination a frowned upon event?

"Hey, God?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Those humans you created..."

"Go on, my son."

"Well, they outlawed outdoor peeing and they're running into a bit of trouble abiding by their decision."

"Huh?"

"They can't seem to hold it."

"Hmm... Tell them to jump around a bit."

"Wow! Ok, great, I'll go ahead and pass that bit of wisdom along."

Some sort of warning device would've been better, you know what I mean?

UH-HUH.

Maybe a little color coded strip on your finger which warns you when you've waited a bit too long to do the nasty deed. As it is, I figure we get our first hint about five minutes before we get our second which comes about thirty seconds before we find ourselves hopping around like some deranged Easter bunny which is where I found myself; jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs "I've got to go! I've got to go! I've got to go!" when all of a sudden the door opened and I wet my pants.

YOU WET YOUR PANTS?

Yes, I did, because the person I saw before me was a hallucination. He had to be for the last time I'd laid eyes on the individual was thirty minutes before when he had a hole in the middle of his forehead where the crazy red-head shot him. It was the security guard who was much bigger upright than prone and he didn't seem to take kindly to my watering of the tiles but, thankfully, he also didn't relish walking on my self-made man-lake so he kindly shut the door but not before uttering...

"Yes Mistress, it's him."

So I thought...

'Mistress? Who calls people Mistress anymore? More importantly, how high up the corporate ladder does one go before getting the title? And who's he calling Mistress? Surely not the gorgeous blonde because she's way too young for the title except in some off-color movie produced in a shady back-lot studio employing people named Ginger, Spice, and Dominique.'

While pondering the 'Mistress' thing I found myself getting more upset at the absurdity of it all. What was going on? Why was I, an innocent victim, locked up in some makeshift holding cell? What right did they have?'

The door opened and Corporal Comfort entered followed by previously deceased Security-Guard-Guy and finally Little-Miss-Blond-Screams-a-Lot.

"I want to see my lawyer!" I yelled, finally coming to my senses and demanding my God-given Constitutional right in this glorious country of ours.

"Shut up" was the reply.

Okay, I didn't have a good response. It's one thing to know your rights, it's quite another to get them implemented, so I stood there like a doofus with bound hands, wet pants and the evidence of how they came to be on the floor between us.

"Get someone to clean this up and bring him a dry set of clothes" Blonde Lady said to Security-Guard-Guy.

"I'm sorry for the confusion, Mr. Johnson, we're obviously a little uptight after what happened" she said.

"It's okay" I replied.

I can't say why I said it because it most assuredly was not okay. As I look back I suppose I did so because I was ready to forgive them anything so long as it got me out of there. It didn't mean I wasn't going to sue their butts off. Lord no, as soon as I was out I was going to find the meanest lawyer in the state and get what was coming to me; a seven-figure check deposited in some off-shore account earning enough interest to keep me in Bermuda shorts sipping Mai-tai's on a Caribbean island where locals have cool accents and no one's ever heard of industrial cleaning supplies.

"My name is Vivian LeTorque, I'm the head of our central office and this is George" she indicated General Graciousness "he's head of security."

George nodded which I assume was his way of accepting responsibility for imprisoning me against my will but I can't be certain because he wasn't forthcoming with his feelings.

"We need some information, Mr. Johnson."

"You need information? Lady, you locked me in this broom closet with my hands tied behind my back after I was shot at and nearly killed on your rooftop! Your head of security almost broke my back and you send the dead security guard's twin brother to scare the crap out of me! And for what? I don't know anything. Like I said, I'm just a sales rep who..."

"Shut up" said George.

And I shut up again. I don't know why I complied so readily but his sheer size was probably part of the reason; the man was simply large. Not fat, just large. If he were a woman we'd call him big-boned. He was one of those guys who don't look good in a suit and tie; too restricting. His neck was about the same size as my thigh and his thigh was probably the same size as my... well, I actually don't have any body parts large enough to give a good comparison so let's say the man probably outweighed me by a ton.

"Mr. Johnson, we're not here to interrogate you, we're trying to find out why one of your sales team would come into our office and commit multiple murders."

"How should I know? And could you please untie my hands? They're starting to tingle."

"No" said George and I was beginning to wonder if the man had a thing for one syllable words.

"No? What, are you afraid I might attack?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson, it's not for our protection; it's for yours" said Vivian.

"What are you talking about?"

"George is the head of security which means he's in charge of my personal well-being. He's like a trained attack-dog who can't stop his natural inclination to eliminate any threat to its master."

"So?"

"So, if I untie your hands and you accidently twitch, stumble or make any movement towards me George would kill you before I could stop him."

"Oh."

I believed her. I know I should've been offended by her lack of belief I might've been able to defend myself but then took another look at George and laughed at the comical scene playing out in my imagination; you know, of George and me fighting. I'm not lying when I say he could twist my head off like an old-fashioned bottle cap. Literally twist it off with his hands. I like my head so I said nothing, mumbled the lame 'Oh' and nodded like I was in on the decision.

"Now, I can leave the room and George will loosen your binds but I must ask some questions so they'd need to be retied. I'm assuming you'd like to leave as soon as possible but if they're bothering you so much..."

"No, it's all right. I can take it a little while longer."

"Good. Now, do you have any idea why Mrs....?"

"Melissa."

"... why Melissa would kill Mr. North?"

"No."

"Did you know her well?"

"I thought I did but now I'm not sure. I think she's been putting on an act."

"An act?"

"Yeah, I think she was playing a part or something because the person I knew wasn't capable of pulling a gun and shooting people. Heck, the person I knew wasn't smart enough to set her alarm clock let alone go on a shooting spree with an escape plan."

"I see."

"No I don't think you do. It was like night and day in there. One minute I'm standing next to a life-sized Barbie doll and the next I'm being herded by a gun-toting vigilante to the roof where a helicopter's waiting to whisk her away. Do you know how much a helicopter costs? I'll tell you... well, I actually don't know, but I guarantee it's a lot."

"Mr. Johnson..."

"And what's with her staring at the guy? You know, I think she might've known him because they were eyeballing each other for a good minute before she went gun-barrel city on him."

"Mr. Johnson..."

"And why kill Bob and Steve? They weren't doing anything. Heck, they helped her. You know, I can't believe I'm still alive! She's got to realize I'm talking to the police when they arrive. By the way, where are the police?"

"Mr. Johnson!"

"Yes."

"Who hired you and Melissa?"

"Bob Simpson."

"Not Industrial Products?"

"No. Well, kind of... You see, we're actually sort of independent contractors for the company. They give us the brochures and we try to whip up some business. It's a pretty shrewd business model if you think about it. You don't have any overhead, you don't have to pay any medical, shoot, you don't really have any skins in the game at all because you're just sitting back and sipping Margaritas while others are out there busting their butts..."

"Mr. Johnson!"

"What? Oh, sorry, sometimes I ramble when I'm nervous."

"Are you nervous right now?"

"Nervous? Me? What do I have to be nervous about? I was only shot at, tied up, locked up and threatened with death if I happen to hiccup in your direction but, hey, that's just an average day for me. Nervous? Hah, I laugh at nervous. Why just the other day..."

"Mr. Johnson!"

"What?!"

And then I heard a low growl coming from George. It was quite terrifying and I was somewhat relieved I'd, uh, relieved myself earlier because I believe I might've done so again.

"Please calm down, you're making George nervous."

"Him nervous? Oh, okay. Sorry, George."

I got another nod from Mr. Talks-a-lot and felt my anxiety ease a fraction but I've got to tell you it's pretty hard to remain calm when a human pit-bull's staring at you like you're about to steal his bowl of kibble.

"You said Bob Simpson, not Industrial Products, hired the two of you?"

"The three of us."

"Three?"

"Yes, me, Melissa, and Steve; the other dead guy."

"Okay, so Bob Simpson hired the three of you to work with him as independent contractors for Industrial Products. Is that right?

"Yeah, that's right."

"Then you don't technically work for Industrial Products?"

"No, I guess not. We're more like hired hands. Hired hands who only get paid after they sell the goods."

"Would Industrial Products even know about you, Steve, or Melissa?"

"Probably not. They dealt with Bob and he dealt with us. Why?"

"Then, as far as Industrial Products is concerned, the only salesperson they knew who had an appointment with us was Bob Simpson."

I didn't like the way that line of questioning was going.

"Well, I don't know, maybe. By the way, shouldn't the cops be here by now?"

She glanced at George and I swear there was some weird communication going on then she looked back at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, tossed her blonde hair and smiled. It wasn't a good smile. It was like the smile I imagine a cat gives a mouse before torturing the rodent for the pleasure of it.

"I think we can stop pretending the police are going to arrive, Mr. Johnson, because they're not. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you're not going to make it. You see, sometimes life's a little unfair and, unfortunately for you, sometimes it's downright cruel."

She nodded at George and before I could blink the man was on me; flipping me to the ground where I once again smashed my nose and placing his knee on the base of my neck so I couldn't move.

"Ugh!" was my response.

So there I was, lying face down on the urine- soaked floor, spitting obscenities and pleading for the head of security to do his job and arrest himself when I felt a sharp, stabbing pain on the left side of my neck.

"Ow!" was my manly reply.

I couldn't see much and when I tried to turn my head old Georgie-boy decided to re-smash my nose into the tile floor.

"Oomph! You son of a...!"

"Just lay still, Mr. Johnson" Miss Screamy said.

I was starting to get a little light-headed and becoming increasingly afraid it wasn't due to some Neanderthal kneeling on my neck when I heard pounding.

"Open the door!" a female voice yelled.

More pounding.

"Vivian, open this door right this second!"

I felt another twang on my neck exactly where the first one had occurred. Suddenly, the knee holding me down was removed and I was hauled up by the scruff of my collar to stand face to face with George who stared at me as though I'd committed some great sin upon his family and whispered...

"Don't say a word."

I thought...

'Okay, hey, no problem. I'll just stand off to the side over here and mind my own business while you open the door... yep... just like so and...'

Then screamed...

"Help! These lunatics are trying to kill me!"

I was a little surprised at a couple of things which transpired after my little outburst not the least of which was the reaction I got from the first person to enter the room; Dead-Security-Guard-Guy. He walked over to me, turned my head slightly to the right and stared at my neck where I'd felt the sharp stings. I believe I said something like...

"They did it!"

... but my recollection's hazy because right then he punched me in the gut and all I could think was what an awful Public Relation's Department the company must have.

My second surprise was who entered next; the pretty receptionist with the seductive peepers. I wondered if I'd developed a weird eye fetish because it seemed every woman I'd seen had a remarkable pair of them.

"What do you think you're doing, Vivian?"

"Feeding."

What? What did she just say?

"Well forget about it, he's not to be touched."

Thank God! You tell her Pretty-Secretary-Lady.

"Why not?"

Oh, for heaven's sake! Don't argue with the woman.

"Because I think he's a Cloak."

"A Cloak? You can't be serious, they don't exist anymore" said mean Vivian.

"Then explain why we couldn't sense her" said gorgeous administrative assistant.

"Maybe she wasn't one of us?" said the evil little blonde vixen.

"She killed Peter, how could she not be?" said the best secretary of all time.

It was then they all turned and looked at me like I was a sea-creature on display at the city aquarium. The two girls had probing, tender eyes but the two guys didn't. They had eyes for sizing people up and I could tell by their looks of contempt they found me wanting. Wanting for what? I had no idea, but definitely wanting. Or lacking. I'm not sure where the difference lies between the two but I think I'd rather be wanting than lacking. One sounds like you've got, at least, the possibility of getting something; the other hints you definitely don't have what it takes.

"Untie him and give him your knife" Pretty-Secretary-Lady said to Security-Guard-Guy.

"Are you sure?" said Vivian.

"I'm sure."

Now, this is where it got weirder because I distinctly remembered George had a slight anxiety problem with people around Vivian who had proper use of their hands, let alone hands with a knife. It's an odd feeling when someone offers to free your upper extremities and you're not sure you want the favor but there wasn't much I could do considering it was four against one and I'm not sure I'd bet on myself to beat Pretty-Secretary-Lady in an arm-wrestling contest; those people had something about them which shouted 'Physical Prowess!'. So, Security-Guard-Guy whipped out a knife, spun me around, sliced the ties binding my hands, gave me the blade and we all waited. Uh-huh, we just stood there waiting to see if George got the overwhelming urge to strangle me or not.

DID HE?

Did he what?

DID HE STRANGLE YOU?

Did he strangle me? Are you seriously asking if the guy strangled me?

OH, YEAH, YOU WOULDN'T BE HERE THEN WOULD YOU?

No I wouldn't. That's generally the way strangulation works; you get strangled and you don't have future conversations.

"Should I do something?" I asked, trying to be helpful.

"Move toward Vivian" said Pretty-Secretary-Lady and I complied because, obviously, I'm a moron.

So I moved slowly towards Vivian and...

"Well I'll be..."

"Huh, who'd of thought...?"

"I can't believe..."

... nothing.

They all seemed surprised I could get near little Miss-Shrieks-for-Fun without Gorilla-man losing his senses and ripping me to shreds. They were standing there admiring George's willpower when I took the opportunity to bolt like a frightened rabbit out the opened door no one had remembered to close. Yep, I might not be strong or possess amazing martial arts abilities but I do have one thing in my DNA which has always proved useful; when confronted with physical harm I can flee with the best of them. Now, I'm not saying I'm fast but I remember the old adage when two people are running from a bear you don't need to be faster than the bear, only faster than the other guy. If it's you and me and we're running from a bear you better tighten your laces because I'm not getting eaten by a dang bear. I know the adage doesn't work in this case because I didn't have anyone I could sacrifice in my place; I just like the saying and it goes to the point if I'm running for my life you'd be wise to get out of my way. So I hauled down the hallway to the stairwell entrance and did the exact opposite of what crazy, red-headed Melissa did; I sprinted down the stairs toward street level where sane and rational people resided. Unfortunately, I didn't consider how difficult it was to run down twenty or so flights of stairs after getting shot at, imprisoned and prepped as an entrée so when I got ten floors down I stopped to catch my breath. I stood there for a second but didn't hear anyone coming so I regained my composure and sprinted, once again, down the stairs to the safety of Dallas' blistering-hot streets, reached the bottom, pushed through the stairwell door, jumped over the lobby furniture and raced out to the street where I met... George and Security-Guard-Guy looking at me like I was a complete imbecile.

"Help!"

Was all I got out before I was knocked unconscious by the retractable club Security-Guard-Guy carried in case unruly salespeople attempted avoiding digestion.

Chapter 3

During movies when the hero of the story has been unconscious for some time he generally wakes to see a beautiful woman waiting dutifully by his side.

DID YOU?

Nope, I got George.

"Don't move" he said.

"Ouch!"

I'd moved. I was never good at abiding orders and I think it might be a biological defect because I've been doing it my whole life and getting the same horrible results as a consequence.

"Don't touch the stove."

"Ouch!"

"Don't blow in the dog's face."

"Ouch!"

"Don't call the cop a pig."

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!"

I realized I was lying on a bed in a room decorated the astonishing color of white. Everything was white; the ceiling, the walls, the sheets. Even the telephone on the white nightstand was white. It was like lying within a cloud or on top of a marshmallow surrounded by snow or what Hollywood says Heaven is like.

'Oh crap! I'm dead.'

I thought before realizing there's no way I'm getting into Heaven on the first shot. Purgatory maybe, but definitely not the eternal day-spa of dreams. I must've done something to annoy Too-Tall George because he suddenly grunted, rose from the white chair he'd been engulfing with his enormous backside and opened the door.

"He's awake".

Pretty-Secretary-Lady came in and sat down on the white chair. I could almost hear its sigh of relief at the reduced load.

"Hello, Mr. Johnson, my name is Trudy and I'm very sorry about everything which has happened to you today."

"Call me Johnny."

"Okay, Johnny. I think it's time we had a little chat."

"About what?"

"About what you are."

"What I am?"

"Yes."

"What am I?"

"You're a Cloak."

"I'm a Cloak?"

"Yes. Do you know what a Cloak is?"

"I'm assuming you don't mean a shoulder covering."

"No, I don't mean a shoulder covering."

"Then no, I don't know what a Cloak is. I also don't know why my co-workers got shot, why I was being blamed for it or why I was about to be killed and, I guess, eaten by your friends out there!"

"I'm very sorry but they didn't know who you were."

"What are you talking about, lady?"

"The Super-natural."

"The what?"

"The Super-natural. We're Vampire's, Johnny. Well, technically, Vivian and I are Vampires. George, Phillip, and Peter are what you'd call Werewolves. Hmm, I guess Peter's not anymore because of what happened."

I would've enjoyed seeing my expression then; I'll bet you could've fit a watermelon in my mouth considering how far my jaw must've dropped.

"I know you must think this is insane" she said.

"Are you a telepath too?"

"No. Why?"

"Because that's exactly what I was thinking."

"Okay, I expected this kind of reaction so I'm going to show you something which might help you grasp what I'm talking about."

"Lady, you could turn yourself into a giant bat and I'm not..."

She wasn't there. She was there one second and the next, nothing, just her dress sitting upright in the same prim and proper way sans body.

"Johnny?"

I had a little heart attack right then. The voice came from the place her mouth would've been had she actually been present but, as it was, I was looking at a talking dress.

"What's going on?" I screamed.

"Calm down, Johnny."

"Calm down! Heck no, I'm out of here!"

And I tried to get up, almost succeeded too, except my right hand was cuffed to the bed's handrail.

"What the...? Let me go you crazy...!"

And she reappeared, causing me another minor heart attack with the added benefit of finding myself sprawled on the floor at the right side of the bed where I'd so elegantly vaulted myself when the magically disappearing Vampire decided to grace me with her presence again.

"Jesus...!"

"Johnny, please try and calm yourself."

"Okay, okay, I'm calm. Just let me get back in the bed. Can you give me a hand?"

"No, I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" I asked as I deftly climbed over the stupid security handrails to again take my place of confinement in the most insane property management company on the planet.

"Because I promised Phillip I wouldn't let you near me until after the bloodletting."

"Who the heck is...? Hold on. After the what?"

"After the bloodletting."

"That's what I thought you said."

"Don't worry, it isn't dangerous."

"Oh, I'm sure it's not. With a name like bloodletting I bet it's a hoot. 'Hey Johnny, what're you doing this weekend? Oh, I'm going to watch the game, grab a bite to eat, maybe get a little bloodletting, how about you?'"

"Don't be sarcastic."

"I'm not being sarcastic. Okay, maybe a little but you've got to admit I deserve a little leeway here."

"Yes, you do; it's why I'm here to answer any questions you might have."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay. How do I get out of this?"

"You die."

"Okay, different question. You said Vivian and you were Vampires?"

"Yes."

"Like real Vampires? The kind who sucks people's blood?"

"Well, yes and no. Like any stereotyped group there's usually a small amount of truth involved."

"How small?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, can you turn into a bat?"

"No."

"Can you turn into smoke?"

"No."

"Can you see yourself in the mirror?"

"When we want to" she said with a wry smile.

"Do you drink people's blood?"

"When we need to."

She looked a little sad at the revelation and I had the sinking suspicion I knew why. I didn't want to ask, I thought I already knew the answer but, like the proverbial cat, I had to know.

"Are you going to drink my blood?"

"Yes."

Crap.

The room was completely white because, apparently, my blood was darn valuable to those people; or Vampires, or Werewolves, or psychopathic killers, name your pick. They literally did not want to miss one drop. They still had me handcuffed to the bed but by then I was completely naked under the white sheet on the white bed in the white room where Dr. Frankenstein and her merry band of people-leeches were prepping me for their Human-Slurpee-sucking contest.

"Is this going to hurt?"

"Not one bit" replied Trudy and for some reason I believed her. I don't know what it is about red-heads with green eyes but I really want to find out.

FIND OUT WHAT?

Like I said, I don't know. So anyway I asked...

"Am I going to die?"

... and she answered...

"I hope not."

... which I think might've been the worst pep-talk ever.

"By the way, you never answered my question. Who's Phillip?" I asked.

"He's Phillip" she said indicating with a nod the huge face of Security-Guard-Guy peering down from above holding a gas mask he lowered over my mouth and nose.

"Pleased to meet you" he said.

And blackness overwhelmed me.

I awoke in the same room feeling remarkably good. It was as if I'd gone to bed early on a Saturday night and woke not to the sound of an alarm clock but to my own internal one when it said 'Enough is enough, you've had plenty of rest, now get out there and take on the world'. I sat up wincing until I realized I was in no pain whatsoever. Seriously, my nose didn't hurt where it'd been smashed into the ground three times, my stomach didn't hurt where Phillip had given me a sucker punch and my neck didn't hurt where Vivian and George had done whatever they'd done. I felt great! I felt like it was time to go take what was mine. Except I was still handcuffed to the bed. I wasn't sure what to do next but thought I might use the old Johnny Johnson problem solving technique which worked so well in the past.

"Help!"

"It looks like old Sleeping Beauty's awake" said George as he walked into the room.

I peered at him because I was confused. This was the same guy who'd roughed me up, locked me up and trussed me up as a human holiday-turkey only a short while before. I should've been terrified but I wasn't, I actually felt a kinship toward him, something like friendship which was really weird considering the circumstances.

"Look, I think everything's okay but we need to make sure before we un-cuff you, okay?"

I nodded my head because I trusted him for some reason I couldn't fathom. Right then the other three walked in and I felt complete. It was strange; as soon as all four of them were in the room it was as though a small shred of insecurity was lifted from my shoulders.

"Let's go ahead and see" said Trudy.

She walked around to the right side of the bed with a set of keys, unlocked the handcuffs and stood back looking at me with those remarkable green eyes. I knew what they wanted so I swung my legs over the left side of the bed where there was no handrail, placed my feet on the floor and stood up as regally and mightily as the situation warranted.

"Whoa!"

"Hold on there!"

And felt a bit chilly where I shouldn't have.

"Okay, let's get some clothes in here for Johnny" said George.

"Sorry, sorry, my fault" replied Vivian as she went running from the room.

"You know, they really do keep these offices a bit chilly in the summertime. They probably think because it's so hot outside everyone would appreciate the cold air but I think they overcompensate a tad too much; don't you, Phillip?"

"Yes, George, I do. Why, just the other day I was telling the super he needed to turn the AC up a bit because studies show people's metabolisms get out of whack when they go from hot to cold so fast."

I think I heard Trudy giggle.

"Okay, here we go" Vivian said as she entered the room carrying a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt.

"Sorry about the new threads, Sweetie, but your old clothes were a bit disheveled so we threw them out" she said.

"It's okay" I replied, and it was. Everything in the world was okay, even the embarrassment of my little impromptu peep-show was irrelevant because I truly felt whole for the first time in my life.

"Um."

"Yes, Johnny?" George said.

"Do you want me to get dressed and do it again?"

"Oh. Well, actually I think you aced it the first time. I didn't get any warnings; did you guys?"

"Nope" replied Vivian.

"Not a bit" replied Phillip.

"Nothing" replied Trudy.

"Okay, then I think we can all agree he passed; right?"

I was feeling a sense of elation I didn't know existed.

"With flying colors" responded Trudy while Phillip and Vivian nodded in agreement.

"Welcome to the Family, Johnny."

And I couldn't help myself as I stood with tears running down my cheeks at the sheer joy of being part of something bigger than myself, holding my arms wide to embrace my new brothers and sisters in a whole-hearted hug from the deepest recesses of my being.

"Hey!"

"Ho!"

"Clothes, Johnny, clothes."

Chapter 4

"How are you feeling?" Trudy asked.

"Better than I've ever felt before. Is this normal?"

"Yes. It's the bloodletting which does it."

"What exactly was the bloodletting?"

"Well, in a nutshell, we combined our blood together."

I must've given the proper impression of being confused because she went on.

"It's like a modern-day blood transfusion from a dialysis machine. After we put you under we inserted a needle into one of your arteries and another in a vein, then did the same to the four of us, attached IV lines and let our bodies do the rest. Your blood flowed into my body, then George's, then Philip's and finally Vivian's whose blood was already flowing into yours. Essentially we were all sharing blood for a while."

"How long?"

"About two hours."

"You're saying I've got your blood in me?"

"Yes. Does that bother you?"

"You'd think it would but for some reason I feel fine with it."

"Good, because so do we."

"Is this like a bonding ritual or something?"

"It's more. We've become, quite literally, a family bound by the same blood."

"Is that why I feel the way I do to you."

"Yes, and we to you, Johnny."

"Cool."

"Yes, it is cool."

"Okay, before, you said I was some kind of Cloak. What's a Cloak?"

"Well, it's a little deep but I'll try and give the short version. Vivian and I are Vampires but we're not the creatures you read about in myth. We're basically humans with advanced immune systems. What would take them months to recover from we can do so in minutes. Our antibodies are carried by our blood but they have one flaw; other Vampires and Werewolves can detect it. A Cloak is someone whose blood has the ability to hide our presence from others of our kind. You are essentially a walking, talking camouflage system for us."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. You were why I couldn't detect Melissa when she entered the office. To me you were just four ordinary humans" Trudy said.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you didn't know."

"What was with the knife thing? Was it a test or something?"

"Yes. I was pretty sure you were a Cloak but I didn't know if you were working with Melissa or not so you were placed in the position of revealing yourself."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand?"

"You have the ability to cloak because your blood gives off a neutral scent but we can still detect other changes in your body which would tell us if you were hiding something."

"Still lost."

"If you were in on Melissa's plan your body's subconscious system would've betrayed you when you moved toward Vivian with the knife. Your heart rate, respirations and blood pressure would've increased, we would've noticed and you wouldn't be here now."

"Oh, but Melissa was able to attack Peter North; didn't he have your abilities to detect her subconscious systems?"

"He did but my kind can control our internal functions."

"But me...?"

"Not so well."

"So Melissa was...?"

"A Vampire."

"And Peter North was...?"

"A Werewolf. All Vampires are female, all Werewolves male. We're the same species but evolved differently according to gender. Werewolves have more testosterone than Vampires, add in their advanced immune system and they became much stronger and more aggressive than us. We Vamps, on the other hand, are nowhere near as strong so we evolved down a different path. We can change the pigment of our skin to fade into the background."

"That explains the disappearing act in the room."

"Yes. Come, walk with me."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To Peter's office. We need to figure out what to do with the bodies."

You know, I couldn't believe I forgot about them.

"This is utterly disgusting" Vivian said with a wrinkle of her cute little nose.

"Found another piece of skull" Phillip responded.

We'd been cleaning the aftermath of Melissa's rampage for about fifteen minutes and I was amazed at my initial reaction which was strangely indifferent. I may not be a tree-hugging liberal but I thought I'd have some sort of adverse reaction to the destruction of human life but, apparently, I was wrong. I didn't revel in the gory mess but I didn't wretch at the scene either. It was a bit strange because I'd known two of those people for over three months. I may not have formed a lasting friendship with them but I sure didn't wish ill upon them. Okay, maybe a little on Bob when he did the sales-pitch pep-rally thing but it wasn't really directed at him, more at the stupid ritual in general, he was just the mooch who insisted on implementing it. The weirdest thing in the room was the difference in the amount of violence involved. Both Bob and Steve were basically whole, looking vaguely serene lying on the ground as if asleep which I guess they were if by asleep you meant resting for a very, very, very long time. Peter, on the other hand, was a mangled mess. He was essentially in two parts; everything below his head and a mass of shattered fragments above. I don't know what type of bullets she used but whatever they were if their aim was to completely blow the crap out of whatever they hit then their manufacturers can stick out their chests and hold their chins high because they succeeded spectacularly.

"Um, I think I've got an eyeball" I said.

"I've got the brain stem" announced Trudy.

"Pituitary gland" Phillip said while holding up what looked like a gelatinous glob of goo.

We hunted around the room on the morbid scavenger hunt for what seemed like a good hour, putting pieces of Peter's head in a trash bag and discussing what went wrong.

"I should've done a more thorough check on their identities" George said.

"I don't see how you could. Bob had the website and I don't think Melissa would've even come up on the radar" responded Vivian.

"What are you guys talking about" I butted in.

"We run pre-screening checks to insure what happened never happens" she replied.

"Why? Do you have a lot of enemies?"

When she paused and smiled I wondered if that was going to be her only answer but then her face got serious and she continued.

"I don't think enemies is the correct term; more like opposing teams playing a game with very high stakes and serious consequences if you lose."

"I don't follow."

"Vampires and Werewolves have been around forever and we've been playing the game of territory from the beginning."

"Huh?"

"A predator must have enough prey in his territory to survive. Too many predators and the prey will dwindle until there's not enough to live on" George said.

"And people are the prey."

"Sometimes."

"So other Vampires are trying to butt in on your turf."

"And other Werewolves" he answered.

"How many others?"

"We don't know."

"How big a territory are we talking here?"

"The Dallas/Ft. Worth Metroplex."

"What? That's like a bazillion miles in diameter!"

"I think you might be exaggerating a little."

"Yeah, I know. I'm terrible at distance. Are you saying you need four million people in your territory to survive?"

"Yes, but not for the reason you think."

"No?"

"No, we don't need Humans anywhere near so much. The problem is one of sustainable, unexplained absences."

"And only so many missing-persons cases are acceptable to law enforcement?" I inquired.

"Exactly. Too many people disappear and the police start to look in places we don't want them looking."

We left and were driving up the annoyingly confusing Interstate 35 East with three dead bodies in the back of a king-size, four-door pickup truck when it dawned on me.

"Hey guys, I forgot to say this earlier but I'm really sorry about your loss."

"Thanks, Johnny. Peter will be missed" said Phillip.

"And your twin brother too. I had no idea she was going to shoot through the door."

The four of them laughing was not the response I expected.

"He wasn't my twin brother."

"Seriously? You could've fooled me. I guess it was hectic but I swear he looked just like you. By the way, where's his body?"

And all four of them laughed again. You know how it is when you're the odd man out on an inside joke but you don't want to admit you don't know what's funny so you go ahead and laugh?

YES.

Yeah, well I didn't because I figured out the punch line about one-millionth of a second after they started giggling like schoolchildren.

"The body was yours, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh" Phillip smiled back.

"You were shot in the head."

"Uh-huh."

"And you're still alive."

"Uh-huh."

"Without a mark on you."

"Uh-huh."

"Stop saying 'uh-huh'."

"Okay" he said with the same cheese-eating grin.

"Johnny, remember when I said we're basically Humans with an advanced immune system?" asked Trudy.

"Yes."

"Well, healing is a part of it."

"But you were shot in the brain" I said to Phillip.

"True."

"In... the...brain."

"Okay, It's true I was shot in the head but the damage wasn't sufficient enough to overcome my body's survival process. Almost immediately after I was shot my brain began healing itself with help from my Endocrine system."

"Your what?"

"My glands. Anyway, I guess the best way to explain is look at the difference between what happened to me and what happened to Peter."

"He stayed dead."

"Exactly, he stayed dead. Do you know why?"

"Because he was shot in the brain."

"True again. But that's not why he stayed dead. He stayed dead because the damage was so severe his Endocrine system couldn't repair him before his brain-cells died from lack of oxygen."

"But yours could."

"Yes, quite easily. One bullet hole isn't difficult for my system. I think if you weren't there, though, I'd be dead."

"Why?"

"Because of your Cloaking abilities. The same ability which allowed you to hide Melissa's blood from us also hid mine from Melissa. If she'd known what I was she would've emptied the rest of her bullets into my noggin so, in a way, I guess I owe you."

The man took a bullet in the head and he guessed he owed me. Now that's friendship if you ask me; or brain damage which under the circumstances makes more sense but I'm going with friendship because it's got a better vibe to it and he's a lot bigger than me...and a Werewolf.

We pulled off the freeway and headed east along Highway 121 until we came to a traffic light placed so heavy trucks hauling waste could enter and leave the city dump in a nice, orderly fashion. It had a big sign indicating it closed at eight on weekdays and it was ten-thirty at night but we were sitting there, waiting for the light to change.

"Just run it" I said.

"It's red" replied George.

"So?"

"It's against the law."

I will not insult you with the hypocrisy of an admitted Werewolf with three dead bodies in the truck bed refusing to run a light which serves no purpose. It would be nice, though, if some aspiring rocket-scientist decided to rethink his occupational choice and do something about traffic instead.

IS IT BAD?

It's beyond bad. It causes otherwise peaceful creatures to become maniacal lane-hoarders as though each particular piece of pavement was purchased solely for their use.

The light turned green and we drove about fifteen more miles before turning north on a side street which twisted and turned for ten more minutes before we pulled onto a dirt road blocked by a metal gate. Phillip got out, unlocked the gate and we drove five more minutes until George stopped.

"All right, let's grab some shovels" George said.

"What're we doing?" I asked.

"Burying Peter" Phillip responded.

"Just us?"

"How many people do you think we need?"

"Oh, I don't know, twenty?"

"Grab a shovel, Johnny."

"Seriously, Phillip, I don't think you realize how hard the dirt is. Look around you. See anything other than mesquite trees around here? You know what that means? It means this is mean old Texas mesquite dirt. Stuff's like concrete but even worse, at least concrete will break out in chunks. This stuff comes out in fine little granules which blow right back in as soon as you turn your back. Trust me on this; we need a back-hoe or crane or something."

"Just grab a shovel."

"Okay, but I'm telling you..."

And then I saw George jam his shovel in the ground so far it appeared he was testing pond depth. There was moonlight to verify I was right in thinking the dirt was indeed the packed Earth of early farming misery and I think my jaw was getting tired from hanging agape so many times in one day but I had to ascertain I wasn't hallucinating.

"Do that again."

And he did.

"Holy...!"

"Come on! Let's move some dirt!" shouted Phillip.

And move some dirt we did. Okay, technically I didn't move anywhere near as much dirt as the other two but I was amazed at what I could do. First off, I actually drove the complete head of my shovel into the ground and secondly I didn't get one bit tired from the exertion. Now granted, it took us about twenty minutes to accomplish the task but considering it would've taken an earth-mover about the same amount of time I'm thinking that's not bad.

"So the bloodletting made me stronger?"

"In a way" replied George.

"How much stronger?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Well, it's pretty technical."

`"I'm a technical kind of guy."

He looked at me in the disbelieving way people do when they don't want to hurt your feelings by telling the truth.

"Okay, I'm not a technical guy but I'm smart enough to have a college degree" I said.

"What's your degree in?"

"Liberal Arts."

He gave me the same look and I'm just going to say it right hear and right now; it's not my fault a Liberal Arts degree is now worthless! No one told me or if they did I was at a frat party which is the same thing as not telling.

"Did you take Biology?" George asked.

"Yep."

I didn't see any benefit from mentioning I barely squeaked by and retained absolutely nothing from the course.

"Do you remember how muscles work?"

"Of course" I said though I had no recollection whatsoever.

"Okay, then you remember the Krebs Cycle which explained how those muscle cells regenerated their energy after they tired out?"

"Sure" I responded untruthfully .

"Well, our blood is much more efficient at delivering the molecules needed to produce the energy. It gives us limitless endurance, at least compared to Humans."

"Got it" I said.

And decided then and there to sue my old college professor for breach of services or malpractice or whatever it was called when the person they're trying to teach learns absolutely nothing from the course.

DID YOU?

Did I what?

DID YOU SUE YOUR COLLEGE PROFESSOR?

Did I...? No, I didn't sue my college professor.

"Really? You understood it?" George asked.

"Sure, you don't get tired because you've got super-blood."

"Exactly."

"So, because you mixed your blood with mine I also have super-energy stuff?"

"Yep."

"And that's what made me stronger?"

"Well, no, you're not actually stronger. You're able to use your entire strength over and over again without fear of getting weaker from exhaustion."

"Oh" I said a little depressed from the information.

"You're stronger over the long haul, Johnny."

"Okay, yeah, I understand."

"It's still a good thing."

"I suppose."

"Come on, let's go get Peter and give him a proper burial."

We tossed Peter in the hole and started shoveling dirt on him before he hit bottom leaving me wondering what an improper burial looked like. After a couple of minutes we had ourselves a nice human-sized anthill on the outskirts of Dallas suburbia and while pondering why there's always so much excess dirt after hole-filling I noticed something which should've been obvious from the outset.

"Uh, guys?"

"Yes, Johnny?" replied Phillip.

"There's a full moon out."

"Why, yes, there certainly is" he said with a grin.

"So, um, are you going to turn into Wolves?"

"No, Johnny, we're not."

"Why not?"

"Because we haven't eaten a warm heart yet."

"Excuse me?" I responded nervously.

"You heard him" George said while approaching from the opposite direction.

I thought...

'Crap! I knew it! I knew I should've listened when people said never trust a Werewolf but no, oh no, I just had to go and learn for myself. Now I'm going to end up as some human chew-toy for these lunar, canine, shape-shifting people-eaters and it's no one's fault but my own. Well, maybe a little bit of Bob's since he's the one who set up the appointment but definitely no one else unless you want to toss in Melissa and her gun-toting shenanigans but that's definitely it.'

"Yaaagh!" I screamed.

And ran like the wind into the night-time forest of five-foot tall mesquite trees looking over my shoulder for pursuit the whole time. I dodged left, I dodged right, I dodged directly into the arms of Phillip who somehow managed to get in front of me in the forty seconds since I began my frenzied dash.

"Johnny, calm down man, we were just kidding!" I heard as I fainted.

YOU FAINTED?

Of course I fainted. I'm not exactly gifted with the ability to look death in the eye and remain conscious and when I came to I heard...

"They're going to kill us" said Phillip.

"I know" answered George.

"I mean it. Trudy's really going to be mad."

"I know."

"You know? It was your idea, you better come up with something better than 'I know'."

"I'm thinking."

"Well think faster! I don't know about Vivian but Trudy's been upset ever since the last fiasco."

"Come on, it was funny" said George.

"You shot yourself in the face!"

"They were depressing."

"It was a suicide-prevention benefit!"

They went on for about five minutes before the two fell silent. I could almost feel the trepidation emanating as I heard the two Vampires emerging from the spindly Texas countryside.

"... no, I'm pretty sure she wasn't acting alone. I don't know who she's partnering with but...?"

It's then when I think they noticed me.

"What were you thinking?" Trudy asked.

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

"And you! You just went along?"

"Yes, Mistress. I'm very sorry, Mistress."

"I've got to tell you, Vivian, I don't know what to do here?"

"Me neither, Trudy. What were you two thinking?"

And that's when the two death-delivering Werewolves started acting like teenagers caught experimenting with cigarettes. When I thought they'd had enough I pretended to awaken.

"Look, Johnny, I'm really sorry" said George.

"Me too, Johnny, I'm really, really sorry" added Phillip.

"You two could've given me a heart attack! It was not funny! It was juvenile and childish and... juvenile and childish!"

"We know and we're really, really, really sorry. Can you please forgive us?"

Of course I forgave them but I wanted to make them squirm a bit and I was curious how many 'really's' I could squeeze out of them.

"I don't know."

"Come on, we really are sorry."

I guess three was the limit.

"All right, I forgive you. But don't ever do it again!"

"We won't, we promise" said Phillip and then he hugged me.

To put it in perspective think of a modern-day jockey getting bear-hugged by a football lineman and that's about the size differential.

HE'S BIG, HUH?

You're all big, you hairless ape.

"Have you made up?" asked Vivian.

"Yeah" I said.

"Good, because we need to do something about the other two bodies."

Which was really odd because I couldn't believe I forget a second time.

Chapter 5

"So, tell me again how you got your job with Industrial Products" said Trudy as we rode south on Stemmons Freeway back towards Dallas proper.

HUH?

Huh, what?

I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON THE OTHER FREEWAY; THE INTERSTATE 35 ONE?

You see what I'm talking about? They give one freeway two separate names!

IT REALLY IS CONFUSING.

Uh- huh, but anyway, when she asked I answered...

"Like I said, Bob Simpson hired me" I said.

"How?" Trudy asked.

"What do you mean 'How'?"

"I mean, did you apply online? Did you hear about it from a friend? How did you get the job?"

"Melissa called me."

"She called you?"

"Yep, said she got a job selling cleaning supplies and wondered if I wanted to work with her."

"And you said 'Yes"?"

"Have you seen Melissa?"

"Yes. I saw her when she entered the office. Why?"

"Oh, yeah, you're not going to get it... hey, Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?" he said over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

"Trudy wants to know why I would take a job with Melissa just because she asked me to."

"Because she's hot , Trudy."

"Thank you, Phillip."

"You're welcome, Johnny."

You know, I think pretty women either don't understand their power over men or are reluctant to use it. Maybe it's because they can't look up when walking.

THEY CAN'T LOOK UP?

Nope, pretty women can't look up when walking because to do so would mean making eye contact with others. Half those others would be men who would leap at any chance to talk to a pretty woman, mostly if she made eye contact, and since it probably gets annoying constantly rebuffing unwanted advances pretty women learn to walk with their eyes downcast in order to avoid those circumstances.

SO THEY'RE NOT BEING SNOBS?

Nope, just avoiding desperate men.

"So she just called you up one day and asked if you wanted a job?" Trudy asked.

"Uh-huh" I replied.

"How did she have your number?"

"Oh, she got it when we worked together before."

"You worked with her before?"

"Uh-huh."

"Where?" she asked.

"At the blood bank" I replied.

Now, obviously if you mention the words 'blood bank' to a car full of Werewolves and Vampires you get their attention.

"At the blood bank?" said Phillip.

"Which blood bank?" asked George.

"Why didn't you mention this before, Sweetie?" queried Vivian.

"I didn't think it was important."

"You didn't think it was important?" asked George over his left shoulder.

"No" I replied.

"You didn't think a Cloak meeting a Vampire at a blood bank was important?" he asked.

"Um, well, when you put it that way."

"Which blood bank, Johnny?" asked Trudy.

"The one on Hillcrest Drive."

"Hillcrest? Isn't it the one...?" Trudy said

"Yes, it is" George finished.

"Isn't it the one, what?" I asked.

"It's the one we use to screen our potential donors" said Trudy.

"Donors?"

"The people we use to feed our pregnant Vampires."

"Your what?"

"It's a long story and I'm sure I'll go into it later but for the time being understand we use certain surrogates to help in our birthing process."

"Sounds pretty cryptic."

"I know, but give me some time here. I mean, we just found out how Melissa got to you."

"Huh?"

"How Melissa found you, Sweetie, she looked at your blood. You did give some blood at the bank, didn't you?" asked Vivian.

"Oh, yeah, we all did. As soon as you start working there you feel like jerk if you don't."

"That's how Melissa found you" said George.

"You think she was looking for me?"

"No, probably not. But when she saw your blood it would've been impossible to miss your markers."

"My markers?"

"All blood has markers in them. It allows medical workers a glimpse into how a person's body is working" George said.

"You think my blood has special markers?"

"Yep."

"What kind of markers?"

"Cloaking markers."

"Okay, you're not making any sense."

"Johnny, your blood's special; it's unique."

"How so?"

"Your blood adapts."

"Adapts?"

"Yes. You see, for every other being on the planet they have blood which is incompatible with all other types except those with the same markers. Think of a car engine. Some engines run on normal gasoline, some on diesel and some on natural gas. Now, if you were to put gasoline in a diesel or natural-gas vehicle then it would be useless because the fuel is wrong. But with you, your blood acts as a universal fuel, it runs well in any vehicle because it adapts to the needs of the engine. Now, for people the process is the same; put the wrong blood in a person and their body shuts down because it can't use the fuel. But your blood is different; it can be used by anyone, regardless of what their individual blood is made of" said George.

"So I'm a universal donor?"

"Kind of. There are other people on the planet who have blood which can be used by all but your blood is different because it isn't defined solely to people."

"Huh?"

"Your blood is a sort of symbiot. It adapts to its environment, any environment, so it's essentially a universal transport system for any creature."

"Any creature?"

"Any creature which relies on circulation for life, yes."

"Cool."

"Yes, it is cool."

"So what does it mean?"

"It means Melissa knew what you were and used you to further her needs."

"Her needs?"

"Killing Peter."

"Oh yeah. But why did she kill Bob and Steve?"

"Maybe she had no further use for them, who knows? They surely won't to tell us."

"What are we going to do with their bodies?" I asked.

"Dispose of them."

"Why didn't we just bury them with Peter?"

"Because people will be looking for them. Peter's okay because the only ones who'd report him missing are here in this truck. Bob and Steve, on the other hand, probably have family and friends who will notice when they don't show up for a while. Steve we might be able to get rid of because if you're right and Industrial Products doesn't know the subcontractors they're using then there's probably a good chance he'd never be tied back to our office. Bob, on the other hand, has a direct connection to us and if the police start to investigate they'll definitely want to visit the last places Bob visited."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Call the police, of course."

The fact I didn't ask why he would call the police when he just finished mentioning they didn't want police involvement should give you an indication of my confusion. Over my lifetime I've been confused more often than not and found not responding is better in most circumstances because it leaves the person believing you might have some understanding of what's going on. Admittedly, you'll never actually get the answer to whatever you were confused about but you'll at least appear more intelligent in your ignorance than would otherwise be the case if you admitted it and still didn't understand the answer.

I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND ANY OF THAT.

Doesn't surprise me.

"You want to know why we're calling the police, don't you?" said Vivian.

"Nope."

"Yes you do, go ahead and admit it" she purred.

"No."

"Okay, I guess you've got it figured out" she said.

"All right Johnny! Good for you. I don't think I would've figured it out so quickly" exclaimed Phillip.

"Okay, fine, I don't have it figured out and I'd like to know why we're calling the police when we just went out of our way to clean up the crime scene and dispose of one of the bodies."

"We're calling a special cop" said Vivian.

"A special cop?"

"Yes" she replied again.

"What special cop?"

"A Monitor."

"What's a Monitor?"

"A special cop, I thought I just said that, silly" she said grinning.

We drove up Interstate 35 East and exited onto a service road which led us to a state park surrounding one of the most ingenious feats of Texas engineering; the man-made lakes dotting its former grassy prairielands. If you don't know, Texas is for all practical purposes a semi-arid desert of barren landscape ideal for raising cattle, hogs, sheep and other kinds of four-footed walking meat-patties but it's not exactly suited for a burgeoning human population who require vast quantities of water to sustain their preferred way of life. People like to drink, cook, bathe, play and relieve themselves with water so a solution was needed if the Great Lone Star State was to make any headway into enticing people to reside in its sunbaked environment so they devised man-made lakes. Now, these aren't the ones they have up north where all you've got to do is block up some river or creek-bed and voila', ready-made-swimming hole, no, Texas is too flat, not slightly rolling-hills flat but pancake flat so rainwater doesn't get the opportunity to run off into the large crevasses found in lands with three dimensions. What did they do, you ask?

I DIDN'T ASK.

They dug big holes!

"Detective Hallowed, please" Vivian said into the cellphone and after a pause "Hello, Nat, could you meet us out at Lewisville Lake? Yeah, it's probably best if it's just you. Okay, we'll see you in a bit; bye, Nat."

"He's on his way" she told us unnecessarily since we'd been listening in on her conversation.

"What are we going to do about the bodies?" I asked.

"Nothing" George replied.

"But there's two bodies in your pickup bed and a detective on the way."

"Yeah, so?"

"So don't you think he's going to be a little curious as to why they're there?"

"Not really. We're going to tell him the truth."

"Which truth?"

"The real truth" said Trudy.

"The one about Vampires and Werewolves?"

"Yes."

"And he's going to believe it?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I asked, already guessing the answer.

"Because he's one of us" she said.

The problem with man-made lakes isn't they're difficult to build, it's they're difficult to maintain. When holes are dug in dirt and liquid poured in the water erodes the side walls causing them to fall back in thus ruining the 'hole' process. Man-made lakes essentially involve digging dirt out of the ground and piling it on the sides to act as a levee so water can't escape. A lifelong project begins because the water's constantly pulling some of the dirt from those levees back in so machines are operated to scoop up the dirt and put it back in its proper place. This is called dredging and it makes the water dirty.

"So, he's a Werewolf?" I asked Trudy.

"No" she responded.

"He's a Vampire? I thought you said all Vampires were female?"

"I did. He's not a Vampire."

"What is he?"

"He's a Monitor, silly" said Vivian in her cute little Vampy way.

"What does he monitor?"

"Us."

"Why?"

"So we don't kill ourselves."

The police in Dallas, Fort Worth and their surrounding communities have one thing in common, really cool cars, and Detective Nat Hallowed's was no different except it was a truck with flashing lights on the roof and a four-foot suspension system. Now, I like the fact local law enforcement has these vehicles because it alleviated a problem which arose a few years back when young males ran from the police just to see if they could get away. In years past it was a real possibility. Now, unless you have access to a vehicle worth well over a hundred thousand dollars your chances of outracing Inspector Gadget are somewhat suspect.

"He's here" said George.

"Let's go meet him" said Trudy and reached for my hand but missed because what I saw couldn't possibly be true.

"Johnny? Are you okay?"

"Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

"Yes, now come and meet him?"

"But..."

"Don't be rude, come along and say hi."

The green alien with the long neck, big black eyes and bulbous head looked at me with what seemed as much puzzlement as I did upon him. He was about my height, my weight, and, well, I didn't have any idea how old he was but he didn't look wrinkly so I assumed he wasn't ancient.

"Hello, Detective Hallowed" said George.

"Hello, George" said the green Martian.

"Detective" said Phillip with a nod of his head and a grin.

"Hello, Phillip" it replied.

"Nat!" screamed Vivian as she jumped into the Space Monster's arms, giving and receiving a warm hug.

"Ah, Vivian, it's lovely to see you again" the extraterrestrial intoned.

"Hi, Nat" said Trudy.

"Hi, Trudy" responded the overlord.

"Johnny, I want you to meet Detective Nat Hallowed. Nat, this is Johnny Johnson" said Vivian.

I didn't have any idea what to do. He was dressed in a two piece suit, spit-shined shoes and wore a shoulder holster with gun visible because he'd left his jacket in the truck. He looked, in every way, like a police detective on any television crime-show except for the parts where he didn't; those parts looked exactly like any movie poster advertising the invasion of space aliens.

"Hello, Mr. Johnson" he said politely.

"Hello, Detective Hallowed" I answered in what I'm proud to admit wasn't a quivering falsetto.

"You're a Cloak, are you not?"

"I guess so."

"Fascinating."

Yep, an alien from another planet was calling me fascinating. I was at a loss for words because what do you say when someone from outer space finds you fascinating; thanks?

"So, um, what are you?"

"I'm an alien."

I had a bad feeling about what I was going to hear but I had to ask.

"I mean, what kind of alien?"

"An illegal one."

Can you believe it? His first time meeting me and he's cracking jokes.

"Oh."

"I'm just playing with you, Johnny. I can call you Johnny, can't I?" he replied.

"Sure."

"Good, then you can call me Nat."

"Okay, Nat."

"Alright then, why am I here?"

Okay, this is why I was mentioning Texas lakes...

GOOD, BECAUSE I WAS WONDERING.

... you should try and stop, Big Boy, you're not good at it. So anyway, Texas lakes are dirty because they have a silt bottom made of dirt and clay; both not known for their cleanliness qualities. Add the sediment from the levees and you get a sight factor of zero on the visual acuity scale. What this leads to is a temptation for the lazy and uninformed to use those wonders of water management as their own personal dumping ground. Lose a wristwatch in a Texas lake, dive down to retrieve it and you can come up with a 1978 toaster oven or a 1980 Honda Civic or...

"Just dump them in the lake" the Alien said.

"That's it?" asked Phillip.

"Sure, why not?" replied Nat.

"Because they're someone's family members" I replied and received an odd expression from everyone.

"Because one of them was employed by a company who knew he had an appointment with us" said George.

"So?" replied Nat.

"So? Won't the police come investigating?" responded George.

"Oh sure, but not to investigate you. We'll come by to see if the three missing gentlemen said anything about going somewhere together or if they seemed scared or anything else out of the ordinary. Why would we think a law abiding company would have anything to do with their disappearance? What would you gain by it?"

"Excuse me...?" I said.

"You don't think they'll ask to look around?" asked Vivian.

"Probably not but even if we do just take them to a different office, yours maybe, and describe some meeting you had which you're still considering. Johnny, you've got the details on what you four were going to pitch, right?" inquired Nat.

"Yes, but earlier you said... "

"So get Johnny to elaborate on the sales pitch and decide which one of you wants to play the role of Peter."

"It'll be that easy?" asked Trudy.

"Sure, why not? We don't know what went on? We don't know if the three were thinking about joining a cult? Maybe they got in the way of a gang hit? Maybe aliens abducted them? Who knows? People go missing all the time."

"What happens if they find the bodies?" asked Trudy.

"Oh, we'll find them. They'll eventually dredge this portion of the lake, some fisherman will snag them or some other weird development will arise where they pop up for one reason or another. It won't matter, though, because what will we have to go on? Some bullet fragments in their chests? Where's it going to get us? The type of bullet and gun maybe but so what? I'm assuming the gun wasn't Peter's and she happened to see an opportunity to pick it up?"

"No it wasn't Peter's; she brought it with her?" said George.

"Excuse me!" I yelled.

"Yes, Johnny?" replied Nat.

"You said three gentlemen, not two."

"Yes?"

"I thought we weren't going to report Peter's body?"

"We're not."

"Well then you've got two missing gentlemen and one missing lady. Melissa might've acted like a guy with the mass-murdering thing but she's definitely a woman."

"We're not reporting her missing either."

"Then you've only got two missing gentlemen."

"Nope, still three."

"Who's the third? I didn't see anyone else in the... wait a minute. Are you suggesting?"

"You need to go missing, Johnny" said Detective Nat Hallowed.

"Missing?"

"Yes, I think it's the best way."

"The best way for what?" I asked.

"The best way for you to stay alive" said George.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"We're going to war, Johnny" said Phillip.

"War? With whom?"

"We don't know?" said George.

"You don't know? What does that mean?"

"It means another family has decided to stake a claim on our territory."

"You don't know which one?"

"No" replied George.

"How will my going missing help?"

"First, it'll probably save your life. Whatever family Melissa belongs to knows you're a Cloak and they aren't going to be thrilled you fell into our hands. Melissa's probably taking quite a bit of heat for not killing you when she couldn't get you on the helicopter."

"But she took a shot at me, barely missed too."

"Yeah, I was wondering; how'd she miss you?" George asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Vampires don't miss."

"She was in a moving helicopter; maybe her aim got screwed up?"

"I doubt it."

"What, is she some kind of sniper or something?"

"Sort of. Vampires have the same advanced Endocrine system as Werewolves which means she has the same enhanced hormones as us. Therefore she doesn't get nervous or twitchy when a situation goes haywire which means from fifty feet away whether on a moving helicopter or stationary perch she can put a bullet center mass every single time."

"So?"

"So I think she wanted you to stay alive. I think she wanted us to capture you because I think she's playing both sides in this little war."

Chapter 6

"Okay, what's really going on here? I don't mean the attack on Peter; I mean, what's really going on?"

"Guys? If you don't mind I think Johnny and I should have a little talk in private. Is it okay with you?" said Nat and they all nodded their ascent.

"Johnny, walk with me" he said as he began moving toward the lake's shoreline.

I followed because I didn't know proper protocol for alien suggestions.

"You've found yourself in quite the predicament, haven't you?" he said.

"Yep."

"Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Nope."

"Okay, let me fill you in on a little background. First off, as you can see, I'm not from around here."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm from another planet."

"Uh-huh."

"Do you want to know what planet?"

"Is it Mars?"

"No."

"Venus?"

"No."

"Pluto?"

"Pluto's not a planet."

"It's not?"

"No. It lost the designation when they decided it didn't meet planetary status."

"Who decided?"

"The planet deciding people."

"Who are the planet deciding people?"

"I don't know and it's not really pertinent to our discussion."

"Oh, okay. So, what's the name of your planet?"

"Heaven."

"Heaven? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious."

"Are you an angel or something?"

"Nope, just a green alien."

"Okay, I have no idea what to say."

"It's okay, it'll all make sense in a second. So anyway, I come from Heaven and I've been tasked with monitoring your little green Earth and I must say it's been a blast. You people are by far the most interesting subjects I've come across in eons."

"How old are you?"

"Pretty old."

"What, like a hundred?"

"Let's say I'm old enough to know better."

"Not an answer, Detective."

"Yes, I know. Well, on with my story. My people have been cultivating your planet for quite some time and..."

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

"Cultivating? What do you mean by cultivating?"

"We've been growing your planet."

"You've been growing our planet?"

"Do you always repeat people's words?"

"Sorry, I'll try and stop."

"Good. Where was I?"

"Cultivating my planet."

"Oh yeah. So we were having some pretty good success with the early creatures and decided to incorporate the first set of Superiors onto the planet."

"Superiors?"

"Creatures with higher intelligence; in this case, the first Werewolves and Vampires. We flew them in and let them roam and do what Vampires and Werewolves do and, I might add, it was a great success. They hit it off splendidly and pretty soon we had a nice little group of baby Werewolves and Vampires running around having a jolly good time. Unfortunately, we forgot one slight detail which led to the predicament you find yourself in today."

"What's that?"

"Their appetites. They have large appetites."

"Appetites?"

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Yes, their appetites. You see, they were still fresh off the building block so to speak and we engineered them to be pretty durable creatures, able to survive at the top of the food chain and, well, a problem arose with their genetic superiority or genetic pureness if you want to be more precise.

"What problem?"

"Their bodies were designed to be perfect but we didn't take into account the nutritional needs associated with perfection. They were running around, multiplying and eating everything in sight. Now it wasn't their fault they were designed that way but we'd spent a lot of time preparing the world for their arrival and couldn't sit by while they ate everything we built so we called their elders together to see if we could come up with a solution to the problem but, unfortunately, the solution they came up with wasn't necessarily what we wished for."

"What was their solution?"

"War."

"War?"

"Yes, they declared war on each other. I guess in hindsight it makes sense. We designed them to be apex predators so we probably should've figured they'd rather battle it out over territorial rights than sit down and negotiate a more civilized solution. So they went to war with each other and have been battling ever since. You, my friend, have been drawn into the longest running conflict this world has ever known."

"They're battling over territory?"

"Yes. Well, now they're battling over territory; in the beginning it was over food."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since they ate the dinosaurs."

"Since they what?"

"Since they ate the dinosaurs. I told you they had large appetites. I know it sounds pretty far-fetched those cute little kids could've eaten all those overgrown lizards but, well, they couldn't help themselves. Those dinosaurs were just standing around grazing on the treetops and it was too tempting, I guess."

"They ate the dinosaurs?"

"Yes, they ate the dinosaurs."

"All of them?"

"Well, almost all, they left the crocodiles; something about the texture of the meat didn't sit well with them."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Why?"

"Why? Oh, I don't know? Maybe the fact dinosaurs were supposedly killed by a comet or something."

"Nope, Werewolves and Vampires ate them."

"Then where does fossil fuel come from?"

"Well, after they ate the dinosaurs they deposited them."

"What do you mean they deposited them?"

"What do you think I mean?"

"I don't...? Oh! Oh, yuck!"

"Yep."

"Okay, gross, but okay. So you said you're an Alien from the planet Heaven?"

"Yes."

"And you've been using the Earth as some sort of science project."

"Well, it's not exactly how I would put it but..."

"And now I'm caught up in some battle that's been going on for... how long has this been going on again?"

"A very long time. Look, I know it's a lot to digest but I haven't finished my story yet."

"There's more?"

"Yes, do you want to hear it?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Okay, well, after a time three distinct clans emerged. It's weird how it always seems to happen."

"What?"

"The emergence of just the proper number so a conflict never has an actual winner. In this case it's because the clans actively worked against each other at all times."

"Why didn't two of them get together and kill the third."

"Oh, they tried, but when you put two top predators together you never get compromise. They always think they can outsmart the other which leads to mistrust and eventually the complete breakdown of the partnership."

"So what happened?"

"They kept fighting each other, eating everything on the planet and basically messing up what started out a very promising enterprise until we decided to start over."

"Start over?"

"Yes."

"Start over how?"

"We flooded the planet."

"You what?"

"We flooded the planet."

"You flooded the planet?"

"Johnny, the repeating thing really does get annoying."

"Sorry, it's a thing I do."

"Well, I guess it's not the worst quirk. So, yes, to answer your question, we flooded the planet."

"Why?"

"It's the easiest way to get rid of land animals."

"But what about all the innocent ones?"

"Fish food."

"That's really sad, Nat."

"Yes, I know, but it really was only matter of time before they were eaten anyway."

"So, you killed all the land animals with a flood?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then what'd you do?"

"We restocked. We still had all the original genetic blueprints from the earlier creatures so we flew them on down in pairs and let nature take its course."

"Then where are the dinosaurs?"

"Oh, we didn't restock them."

"Why not?"

"Too big. They just didn't fit in and they were incredibly stupid. It was like watching cows chewing cud all day long."

"What about the T-Rex?"

"The Tyrannosaurus? Yes, he was pretty cool, it's just..."

"Just what?"

"He was so darn messy. I don't know who was in charge of the design process but whoever gave him a giant head and baby arms should have their diploma revoked. The poor guy had to stick his entire face into the carcass and rip out whatever he could with only his bare teeth. I mean, come on! We gave lions big enough paws to eat properly but we couldn't design the king of dinosaurs something more practical than a pair of undersized appendages useful for no purpose whatsoever?"

"So no dinosaurs?"

"You still have crocodiles."

"Okay, hold on a second. You said you flooded the Earth, right?"

"Yes."

"But you said earlier I was involved in the longest running conflict ever?"

"True again."

"How's that possible if you flooded the Earth?"

"Because those guys are really hard to kill. I'm telling you, we were exacerbated by their stubbornness. We melted the ice caps and they grabbed ahold of anything which could float and made themselves cities. It really was impressive and I'm not ashamed to admit we definitely underestimated them."

"They made floating cities?"

"Yes, can you believe it? All that work down the drain because we gave them the ability to problem solve. So anyway, they floated their cities to the high parts of the world and went right back to their gluttonous ways."

"Hold on. High parts of the world?"

"There's not enough water to actually cover all the land but we sure made a dent in the populatable areas, I'll tell you. So they relocated to the mountain tops but then the problem of sustainability arose."

"They didn't have enough food, did they?"

"Exactly! You're a pretty good student, Johnny. They didn't have anywhere near enough food to sustain themselves and, sadly, it brought out the worst in them."

"How so?"

"They started eating each other."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Couldn't they fish?"

"Not very well. They tried, but remember we're talking a long time ago; before fishing poles and nets and stuff. They basically had to dive in the water and catch one of those slow moving fishes with their bare hands if they wanted dinner. Unfortunately, they're not exactly the most patient people on the planet. Okay, I guess technically they were the most patient because there were no other people but they're not known as the stand-around-and-bide-your-time type of species. No, my friend, they took one look around, saw the writing on the wall and started murdering each other at an insane rate. Well, we couldn't let it go on much longer so we decided to enact Plan B."

"Plan B?"

"We froze the planet."

"You froze the planet?"

"Yes, we froze the planet. It seemed a logical conclusion at the time; you know, freeze the Earth, call a time-out if you will."

"How do you even do that?"

"We blew the volcanoes."

"You did what?"

"We blew the volcanoes. We stuffed those chimney stacks until the pressure got so great they blew. It was a remarkable feat of engineering getting all them to blow their tops at the same time but we did it and let me tell you; it was awesome!"

"How did it freeze the Earth?"

"All the ash. It sticks around in the atmosphere blocking out the sun's rays and as long as you keep stuffing the volcano's spout it'll keep on blowing its stack and puffing out smoky sunblock."

"And it froze the Earth?"

"Yes, but then one of the most amazing things happened."

"What?"

"They started cooperating with one another."

"Why's that amazing?"

"Have you not been paying attention? These people hadn't cooperated with each other since they got there. Who would've figured a little cold weather would get them to see the error of their ways? I'm telling you they keep surprising me every day."

"How did they cooperate?"

"They hibernated."

"They what?"

"They hibernated. Isn't that a hoot? We didn't even know they had the ability but they figured it out somehow and began doing it in shifts. Two-thirds shut their unnecessary bodily functions off and the other third took care of them while they slept in a coma-like state. They kept doing it over and over until pretty soon they had a neat little system set up. There was enough food at the outset for the group awake to survive while those asleep slowed down their metabolisms which allowed for prolonged periods of hibernation. Now, at the same time they were starting to figure out the fishing thing because they really are a smart species if left alone on a frozen planet starving on mountaintops. So anyway, they started to catch and keep more and more fish and when the others awoke and it was their time to take over the duties of fish patrol, well, they grabbed the baton and kept on running."

"How long did this go on?"

"For a thousand years or so."

"For a...? Okay, I'm sorry, but I'm just going to have to keep repeating you."

"It's okay; it's kind of wild stuff."

"How could they keep doing it for a thousand years? I thought you said they weren't very patient?"

"They're not! That's what's so amazing; they actually learned to be patient. Well, I guessed 'learned' is a loose interpretation of what happened. Let's say they were encouraged to try out patience and cooperation."

"And by encouraged you mean...?"

"Flooded and frozen."

"So let's see if I've got this right. They ate all the dinosaurs then started eating themselves, got flooded, frozen and forced into hibernation; is that about right?"

"When you put it that way it sounds a bit harsher than I would characterize it but, yeah, essentially it's right."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, by then we were preparing to do our restocking but we still had our previous problem unsolved."

"The Vampires and Werewolves were still around."

"Yes, still living and hibernating on their mountaintops."

"They were all doing it?"

"Yes, isn't it amazing? They hated each other but knew if they were to survive then they'd need to share the information with others of their kind whom were living quite a ways away. So they sent some of the Werewolves off to explain the hibernation process and, to our utmost surprise, the other Vamps and Wolves took the advice and followed it."

"So how did you solve the problem?"

"We didn't."

"Huh?"

"We didn't, evolution did. Okay, maybe not evolution exactly; more like necessary evolvement for survival's sake."

"Huh?"

"You use that word a lot, Johnny."

"It comes in handy."

"Huh? Okay, well, to each their own I always say. So the Werewolves and Vampires had been hibernating on and off for over a thousand years by then and you know what happens when you do something over and over again."

"You get bored?"

"No, you get better at it. Those little guys, God love them, got so good at the hibernation thing their bodies actually adapted and aided them with the process. They would gorge themselves while awake and then slow down their metabolisms to the point where they were basically dead; using just enough energy to keep their vital organs alive long enough to live through their hibernations."

"So whatever you threw at them they were able to overcome?"

"Well, not exactly. Sadly, most of them eventually succumbed to the process because, well... Assume you were terrible at fishing and saw your time of hibernation quickly approaching but you still wanted to live; what would you do?"

"I don't know?"

"What would you do if you needed food to survive but couldn't find any underneath the frozen water in front of you but, in the caves behind you, food was lying there immobile...?"

"They ate the sleeping?"

"Yes, some of them did."

"That's disgusting!"

"Yes. Yes it is. But let's not throw stones here, remember it wasn't necessarily their fault they found themselves in the position they were in."

"But they're cannibals!"

"Cannibals? What does that even mean? What do fish eat?"

"Huh?"

"What do fish eat, Johnny?"

"I don't know, algae?"

"No, fish eat fish. Birds eat birds. Virtually every predator on the planet eats others of its own kind."

"It's still disgusting."

"Hey, no argument here. I'm not saying it's right and I'm not saying it's wrong. Far be it from me to tell people what they can and cannot put into their bodies; so long as it's not me, of course."

"So they ate each other?"

"Obviously they didn't all eat each other or you wouldn't be in the predicament you're in today. No, there was some, uh, snacking which took place but over time a sort of natural population equilibrium took place where there was enough food to maintain those who remained. There was one interesting thing which occurred, though."

"What?"

"The ones who ate the others awoke in a much better state than those who dined on fish alone."

"Oh no."

"Yes, that's what we thought also. We were readily prepared to give up the whole project and let them have their survival-of-the-fittest eating contest when they did something which surprised us once again."

"Which was?"

"They started experimenting. They were curious why the ones who ate the others were so much healthier when they awoke than those who ate the slimy swimming creatures so they began experiments on one another to find the answer."

"What kind of experiments?"

"The medical kind."

"The medical kind? I thought you said this was back, oh, I don't know, a long time ago?"

"It was, and I'm proud of you for noting such an obvious problem because you're right; this was before the most rudiment knowledge of medicine was available, but you're forgetting something about our little friends."

"What?"

"They heal. They heal at such a rapid rate they're virtually indestructible unless you tear their heads off or eat them while they sleep. So they started experimenting to find out why eating themselves was more nutritious than eating fish and do you know what they found out?"

"Obviously not."

"They found out it was their blood which was so nutritious. Not the meat of their bodies but their blood. You know, I'm beginning to well up just remembering the excitement we felt when those little ragamuffins began learning anatomy. Well anyway, once they found out it was their blood maintaining them so well they went on a kind of pre-modern blood drive. They kept cutting their wrists and storing as much blood possible..."

"Wouldn't cutting their wrists kill them?"

"They heal too fast. They could get about a thimble-full of blood before the cuts closed but they kept at it and before long they had enough to last them for nap time."

"Wouldn't they eventually run out of blood?"

"Good question! The answer of course is 'No' but really good question anyway. You see, every living creature's body has the ability to bleed and restock their blood if it can obtain nutrition elsewhere. Blood is basically a mixture of water and nutrients so as long as you've got both you can resupply yourself."

"And they had fish."

"Uh-huh, and birds."

"Birds?"

"Flooding doesn't really bother birds, Johnny, and their feathers are better insulators than anything else on the planet so freezing doesn't scare them either."

"Fascinating."

"Yes, but I'm not even at the good parts yet."

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack! Alright, they figured out their blood was the most nutritious thing and began hoarding it in anticipation of hibernating when one of them, we don't know which, came across an interesting insight."

"Which was?"

"Their hibernation times were based on how many nutrients they could ingest before shutting down; the more food, the longer the hibernation. So one of them, the clever little rascal, wondered 'What if we could eliminate the storage problem and just deal with the delivery system?'"

"Huh?"

"You know, you're right, it is a good word. As I was saying, one of them came up with the idea of bypassing the limited capacity of their stomachs and delivering the blood to the places it was needed. We figured he or she came across the idea when they slit their wrist in order to get their blood. It probably doesn't take a genius to decode where you remove blood you can probably do the reverse and insert it but it sure does take some ingenuity. So they used what was available and invented the first dialysis machine."

"Huh?"

"They used the hollow bones of birds as makeshift intravenous devices."

"Huh?"

"They stuck bird bones in their wrists and sucked their stored blood while they slept."

"Yuck!"

"Really? A species comes up with the way to survive the most horrific conditions a planet can throw at them and all you can say is yuck?"

"Sorry."

"It's okay, it is kind of yucky, I'm just busting your chops. So, on with the story. By this time, as I was saying, a sort of equilibrium was attained whereby the surviving Werewolves and Vampires could maintain their numbers but we were worried about the problem of replacement."

"Replacement?"

"They were still having babies."

"Oh."

"We weren't going to repopulate the planet if they were going to have more babies and eat all the creatures we provided. It was this conundrum we didn't have an answer for. Luckily, like the others, it solved itself."

"How so?"

"Their blood. They were living off their own blood while hibernating. Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you or me but to those guys it was really revving up their immune systems because they weren't going through the usual process of digestion and waste removal; it'd already been done before. They were eating the fish and birds, digesting the food, removing the impurities and then storing the untainted blood for reuse. What they were getting was pure, refined, untainted Vampire and Werewolf blood. Not only that, it was their own blood. This had the effect of strengthening their already advanced immune systems to the point where virtually anything not genetically identical to themselves was seen as an invader, a virus so to speak."

"So?"

"So when the Vampires became pregnant their own bodies viewed the unborn child as an unwanted virus."

"Their own bodies killed the unborn baby?"

"No, it doesn't work like that. Their bodies couldn't do anything about the unborn child residing in them at the time but what it could do was develop antibodies to prevent the same thing happening again."

"I don't get it."

"Johnny, when you're born you're basically a blank slate when it comes to your immune system. Your body can't tell the difference between good bacteria like those living in your gut helping with digestion and bad ones like measles or the chicken pox. So when you first start out you let everything in and only after you've realized one type is bad do you start to make preparations about stopping it from reoccurring."

"And the Vampires immune system viewed the unborn child as...?"

"A bad thing."

"And developed antibodies to...?"

"Stop it from ever happening again."

"So they...?"

"Can only get pregnant once."

"So your replacement problem..?"

"Was solved by the Vampires immune system itself."

"Hey guys! We've got a problem!"

The detective and I both looked to where Phillip was yelling and saw him waving at us frantically so we trotted up the path leading to the parking area where we found the others in a discussion.

"When did this happen?" we heard Trudy ask George as we arrived.

"The security guard said about one hour ago" he responded.

"What happened ?" asked Nat.

"Our office was taken by another family" said George.

"Wow! That was fast" replied Nat.

"What was fast?" I asked.

"The war has begun, Johnny; we got invaded by the enemy" said Phillip.

"What are you talking about? Just call the police or, better yet, have Nat go down there and evict them" I said.

"You don't seem to understand. We're down one Wolf and we don't actually have the authority to send Nat down there."

"What?"

"We operate on a different set of rules from the rest of society" said Vivian.

"What rules are those?" I asked.

"If you can take it, it's yours, but you have to hold it" she replied.

"So they can just come on in and steal your business?"

"Yes. They'll have to prove they can do as good a job as us but, yes, they can do as they've done" said Vivian.

"Who do they need to prove it to?" I inquired.

"The Clan Elders" she answered.

"Who are the Clan Elders?" I asked.

"Didn't you tell him?" Vivian asked Nat.

"There wasn't enough time" he responded.

"Well, he's going to learn it on the fly because we've got a lot of things to do and not much time to do it" said George.

"You got rid of the bodies?" asked Nat.

"Yep, tossed them in the lake like you said" replied Phillip.

"Did you weigh them down?"

"Nope, tore them up."

Chapter 7

The ride back to Dallas was strange because I was looking at my new-found family members in a different light. It wasn't one of enhanced appreciation or decreased enthusiasm, it was just different. What Detective Hallowed imparted gave me an insight into the kind of people Vampires and Werewolves were; rugged individuals with vast appetites and a non-nitpicky food preference. The detective parted ways with us at the lakeside parking lot and something was said between him and George which left me under the impression I would see him again, that he was on our side in this tug of war, but I could be wrong because what they said was out of earshot and I only got the impression because of the looks each gave the other upon finishing their little chit-chat. So I found myself once again in their presence without any real knowledge of what was to transpire or how I'd have any bearing on it.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Where are we going?"

"To our nightclub."

"You have a nightclub?"

"Yes, we have a nightclub."

"What's it called?"

"You'll see."

"Come on, tell me."

"I'll tell you what; if you don't recognize which club is ours by its name I'll buy you any drink on the house, okay?" she asked.

I'm not normally a betting man but it seemed a pretty easy wager to win. Just sit back and say nothing as we drove up, then feign ignorance if I guessed correctly.

Bloody Mary's is located in Deep Elum. A small part of downtown Dallas zoned for the specific purpose of giving people a place to do what people have done since the discovery of fermentation; party too much and make fools of themselves which they later regret until the time comes to do it again. And, no, I didn't get the free drink because I couldn't help blurting out 'You've got to be kidding' as soon as I saw the name of the nightclub out the front windshield. It'd been converted from a warehouse to a gothic dance-club with dim lighting, techno-pop dance floor and a bar located within twenty-five feet of wherever you were located ready to serve your every desire as long as they had the ingredients and you had the cash.

"Uh, guys?"

"Yes, Johnny?" said Phillip.

"Where is everyone?"

"It's four in the morning."

"Oh. Uh, guys?"

"Yes, Johnny?" said Phillip again.

"Why am I not tired?"

"You're not? Good. The stories mentioned it might happen but we really had no idea if they were true or not" said Trudy.

"If what was true or not?"

"Well, when you received our blood you essentially became disease proof. Everyday challenges your body had to ward off like colds and flus are no longer a concern so you don't need to spend extra energy warding them off" she said.

"I'm disease proof?"

"Yes."

"Awesome!"

"Yes, it is awesome" she agreed.

"Does other stuff happen?" I asked.

"Maybe" she replied.

"What other stuff?"

"You'll stop showing age, you'll tolerate heat and cold immensely better and you might live for an extremely long time."

"How long?"

"It depends" Trudy responded.

"On what?"

"On whether we win this war or you're killed by a Werewolf or Vampire."

"Oh. So I won't get any older?"

"You'll age, you just won't show any physical signs for quite some time."

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"How old are you?"

"Old enough to know better."

The inside of Bloody Mary's was situated like any other modern nightclub. It had places for people to sit, stand, dance or stumble according to their conditional desires at the time. A main bar was located near the north entrance and there were three side bars situated on the subsequent directional compass headings. We were making our way toward the east bar and I began to take notice of the interior decoration. The floor was covered with blood-red carpet, the barstools were silver and black, the walls were black-white polka-dot and the ceiling was jet black except for the occasional recessed lighting which gave the place the aura of walking on a strange planet. I assumed we were heading to sit at the bar and talk about the day's events but, to my surprise, we walked past the oasis of intoxicating pleasure toward a pair of swinging doors camouflaged into the walls décor so effectively I probably wouldn't have noticed them if I'd come on my own; definitely not if I'd stopped at the pre-mentioned isle of liquid oblivion.

"Darn."

"It won't work now" Phillip said.

"What won't work?"

"Booze."

"What?"

"Alcohol won't work on you anymore."

"What are you saying, Phillip?"

"You can't get a buzz from liquor anymore, Johnny."

"Can you please say that again? I don't think I heard you correctly."

"You can't get wasted anymore. Johnny? Hey man, it's not so bad, you'll get used to it eventually."

"No more alcohol?"

"No, I didn't say that; you can drink but won't get you drunk."

"Then what's the point in drinking it?!"

"For the flavor?"

"The flavor? Are you kidding me? It usually took me a good stiff one just to get over the flavor. Oh my God! Is it too late to turn back?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,..."

"It's for the best, Johnny."

"Best is a very subjective term, Phillip."

The swinging doors led to the kitchen which was surprisingly large for an establishment catering to the nightlife scene of central Dallas. Now, some might be curious about that statement and I believe it's because there seems to be a misperception about the city of Dallas. Dallas is like any other large metropolitan city which means it houses a vast amount of people in a relatively small area. When a lot of people get together there are many varying preferences. Some people like quiet places, some loud places, some fancy steakhouses, some sushi-bars, some prefer casual dining and some enjoy places where the very idea of normal is an anathema. Deep Elum is based on the idea dirty and grungy are the preferred ambiances of proper nightclubs so the notion one of their establishments contained a fully functioning restaurant-style kitchen must've been something the anti-code inspector missed as he drank his way through the certification process. The kitchen was awe-inspiring; grills with venting hoods lined the back walls, walk-in coolers promised fresh fruit and a working chef's table complete with every type of frying or sautéing pan imaginable was positioned perfectly in the center so all one had to do in order to work on their culinary masterpiece was take two steps in any direction and retrieve whatever ingredient they wanted to finish their mouth-watering delicacy. I was in Heaven and I didn't even cook. Oh yeah, I guess I wasn't in Heaven because it's a place where green, big-eyed, long-neck, monitor Aliens live.

"Johnny, are you hungry?" asked George.

"Starved" I replied.

"What would you like?"

"Everything. Anything. Why, what are you going to eat?"

"A burger. You want one?"

One? I wanted ten. I'd never been so hungry in my life and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. I'd eaten breakfast the previous morning and it wasn't like I was a stranger to going without food for a day.

"Sure" I said.

"You're a bit hungry aren't you" Vivian said as she stood next to me while I watched George turn on the grill and leave to get the burgers.

"I am utterly famished."

"You'll get used to it. It's because of your blood."

"Why is it always because of the blood?" I asked.

"Because your blood is what preserves you. Nothing else carries the nutrients you need, rids the waste you don't and delivers whatever chemicals your body desires for survival. It's basically your transportation system which keeps everything functioning properly."

"So why am I so hungry?"

"Hunger is your body's warning signal you're running low on sugar. Every cell in your body uses sugar as a source of energy. When you bonded with us your cells began the transformation of becoming perfect in function so, essentially, until they've prepared themselves to work without flaw you'll be burning a lot of energy during the transformation."

"What?"

"Sorry. Okay, example time. Let's say you ran a marathon. Now, after the marathon your legs will be exhausted but you'll still be able to walk because some of your leg muscles will have preserved their energy. Now, for about two days your legs will hurt while they repair themselves and restore energy. That's how you worked as a normal person; a slow, methodical healing process which always allowed some functionability while it took place; got it?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of is fine. So anyway, because you've bonded the process has sped up dramatically. You'll no longer save some muscles in reserve and you'll go all out till complete failure. Instead of waiting two days to heal and recover you'll do it virtually instantaneously. Your cells will be functioning at their peak ability. They will be, in essence, perfect."

"So, why am I hungry?"

"Because those cells are sucking up sugar as fast as you can eat it."

"Oh."

"Yay! Here comes George with the burgers."

I almost cried when I saw the mounds of ground beef on the tray. They were piled up so high you would've thought a cow suddenly imploded and it was a glorious sight to behold.

Waiting for those chopped meat-muscles to cook was excruciating because the aroma had me salivating like an English bulldog waiting for, well, waiting for hamburger patties to finish cooking. Once they were finally done George yelled 'Let's eat' and I must say there had to be something about what Vivian said because I beat everyone to the dining table which was set up next to the east-bar still holding many of my favorite liquors enticing me to prove Phillip wrong.

"Dig in!" George yelled and I felt a slight twinge of embarrassment because I already had a burger in hand with a bite taken out and a handful of fries.

"Okay, where do we stand?" began George.

"I think we should go over what transpired. Maybe we missed something which will give us a clue" said Vivian.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning. How did the meeting get set up?" replied George.

"Peter said he got a good lead on a new product line which would knock ten percent off our chemical costs" said Trudy.

"Who'd he hear it from?" asked Phillip.

"He didn't say" Trudy responded.

"Did he meet with anyone prior, maybe another supplier who gave him the information?" asked George.

"I don't know, he was pretty secretive at the time."

"Did he say anything which would've given you the impression he was doing something on the outside?"

There was a low growl coming from Phillip and I got the impression he wasn't happy with George asking Trudy questions.

"Phillip!" Trudy said sternly.

"Yes, Mistress" he responded.

"Back down!"

"Yes, Mistress."

"I'm sorry, George, go on" Trudy said.

"Did he give you the impression he had anything going on outside the company?"

"Well, yes, but he gave us all that impression, didn't he?"

The four of them nodded their assent and became introspective. It was downright quiet around the table except for the lip-smacking and I got a little uncomfortable so I spoke up.

"What are you talking about?"

"We're talking about how Peter was before he wasn't" said George.

"How he was before he wasn't?"

"Yes, how he was acting before he got killed."

"How was he acting?"

"Secretive."

"Secretive?"

"My God man, do you always repeat what people say?"

"Sorry, it's a thing I do. Okay, so he was secretive. What does that mean?"

The look the four of them gave each other spoke volumes. Unfortunately, I didn't speak volume so I had to ask...

"What?"

"We think he was having an affair?" said Vivian.

"An affair?"

"Really, Johnny? Every time?"

"Sorry, I'll try and stop. So, who thinks he was having an affair? Come on, let's see a show of hands."

All four raised their hands so I guess it was proof positive dead Peter was having an affair but there was one problem.

"Who was he having an affair with?"

Everyone shook their head in the universal acknowledgement of 'I don't know'.

"Okay, who was he having an affair on?"

Alright, admittedly it was an awkward question because, quite frankly, I don't know if 'affair' is a verb or noun. If you're having something doesn't it imply what you're having is a noun?

I THINK SO.

But the act itself leads one to believe it's a verb because it's doing something.

TRUE.

I don't think we've got the whole 'diction' thing down. But anyways, there was another reason the question was awkward, namely, 'Who was the jilted party?'"

"Stephanie" they said in unison.

"Stephanie? Who's Stephanie?"

"Stephanie's our Matriarch" said Trudy.

"Your matriarch?"

"Johnny, seriously, if you keep repeating everything everyone says I'm going to rip your tongue out" said Phillip in as polite a manner as possible considering the subject matter.

"Go for it you big..."

But I couldn't get the rest of the words out because the lummox had my tongue trapped between his right index finger and thumb. How does one to that?

IT'S REALLY QUITE SIMPLE, YOU JUST...

Shut up, it was a rhetorical question and I only bring it up because it might come in handy during employee meetings. You know the ones. The ones where the meeting is almost over and the person holding the meeting asks if anyone has a question and everyone is raring to leave but can't because some passive-aggressive busybody decides it's the perfect time to bring up a stupid question which is unanswerable in the relatively short time available to wrap up the meeting.

I THOUGHT PEOPLE SAID THERE WERE NO STUPID QUESTIONS.

They're wrong. There are stupid questions and they're universally asked by stupid people at stupid times in stupid meetings.

"Phillip, let go of the man's tongue" said George and after about one second Phillip did. Good thing for him too because I was about to go all righteous on him and show what my Cloaking abilities could do.

OH, ARE THEY MORE POWERFUL THAN BEFORE?

Are they more...? Oh, forget it.

"Not very nice, Phillip" I said.

"Sorry, but you did say 'go for it'."

"I didn't mean my tongue. And by the way, Yuck!, wash your hands before grabbing someone's tongue."

"What? They're clean."

"They're not clean. I saw you picking your nose with them."

"So?"

"So, by definition, picking one's nose is unhygienic."

"Unhygienic?"

"It means unsanitary."

"I know what it means."

"Then why did you...?"

And the man had my tongue between his fingers again.

"Phillip!" snapped Trudy.

"Sorry, Mistress" he responded and let go.

"Okay, new rule. There will be no more tongue grabbing at the table; understood?" said Vivian.

"Yes, Mistress" the two Werewolves said in unison. I didn't join in because I secretly held out hope I'd one day be able to return the favor.

"Johnny, our families are run by a matriarchy which means the eldest female is generally in charge" said Vivian.

"And Stephanie is the eldest female?"

"Yes" she responded.

"Okay, so where is she?"

"She's hibernating" Trudy said.

"Hibernating?... Whoa!... Easy there big boy" I got out before Phillip could break his no tongue-grabbing promise.

"You couldn't go five minutes without answering a question with a question?" Phillip asked.

"I'm trying, but you've got to admit this is pretty strange stuff and you're not exactly spilling out a fountain's worth of information."

"He's right. Okay, I think it's time to bring him up to speed on our family here. Does everyone agree?" said George.

They all nodded.

"Alright, first, I guess we need to know what you know" said George.

"Okay, I know you all have quite the appetite and absolutely no understanding of portion control. I know Nat is from a planet called Heaven and they designed you to be superior beings but forgot to supply you with enough animals to eat and I still cannot come to terms with the fact you ate all the dinosaurs.

"We were hungry" said Phillip.

"Not a good answer."

"We left the crocodiles."

"Because they didn't taste good."

"Well, true, but we still left them."

"Anyway, Nat said his people tried to kill you by flooding and freezing but you learned to hibernate and blood-suck in order to survive. He also said you could only bear children once. Let's see, yep, finished."

"Okay, not too bad a beginning. So, we went about hibernating for quite some time; so long, in fact, we became adjusted to the process. After a while we began to notice the ice was receding but there still weren't enough animals to keep us alive if we awoke en mass so we kept at it. We believe that's what set about our problem of barrenness" said George.

"Barrenness?"

"We'd been hibernating and self-sharing blood for so long the Vampires eventually developed natural antibodies to all outside cells including embryonic ones."

"You couldn't have children? None at all?"

"No, and we were looking at the end of our species through accident and attrition until someone came up with a rather brilliant idea" said Trudy.

"What?"

"If using one's own blood enhanced the immune system so much reproduction became impossible what would happen if we used other blood instead? So we began mixing blood and it showed promise with a few births but the failure rate was still too high to overcome the deaths which occurred" continued George.

"I thought you lived a really long time?"

"We do, but the world's a dangerous place and bad things happen to good people."

"Like what?"

"Avalanches, lightning strikes, a pack of lions."

"Oh."

"Anyway, we had a little bit of success with the blood mixing so we kept diluting our blood until finally we found success. Vampires began having babies again but still could only bear children once because we never did figure out how to overcome the immune system of the Mistresses."

"Alright, what's with the 'Mistress' thing."

"It's a sign of respect and a way to reinforce our Matriarchy."

"Just curious; why a Matriarchy?"

"Because Vampires are much less aggressive than us, Johnny. We Werewolves might be big and mean but it doesn't mean we're stupid. We could see if left in charge we'd keep killing each other over nothing more than trivial slights" Phillip said.

"And a Matriarchy stops that?"

"It does when all the females agree to withhold certain rewards if we didn't go along" said George.

"By rewards you mean...?"

"Yes" Phillip said while glancing at Trudy.

"That's just wrong!" I said.

"But effective" said Vivian with a chuckle.

"About this time, and I'm talking a long time ago, the planet had been repopulated by the Heavens and we began making our way back out into the world once again. For a while it was Nirvana; all the food one could wish for and an innocence which made them the easiest pickings you've ever seen" said George.

"Huh?"

"The animals had no idea who we were! They just stood there looking at us like we were shepherds or something, wagging their tasty little tails and munching on leaves. Man, it was beautiful!" Phillip said with righteous glory.

"Phillip?" asked Trudy.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Please let George finish his story."

"Oh, sorry, Mistress."

"It's okay, please continue, George."

"Yes, Mistress. Where was I?"

"Eating defenseless animals" I said by way of help.

"Yeah. Okay, so after a while we started taking territory for ourselves by staking out claims on land our clans would control. You see, during the Starvation..."

"The Starvation?"

"The time right after we ate the dinosaurs."

"Oh."

"So, during the Starvation we Superiors began separating into groups to invade territories controlled by others. Over time three clans emerged and held sway over their territories. This went on for some time until the Flood came and forced us to seek shelter in the high areas of the world. Now, at this time there were still quite a few of us left but now we found ourselves isolated into three groups occupying three separate but much smaller areas which contained very limited resources."

"That's when you started eating each other?"

"Who told you that?" asked Vivian in a somewhat scary manner.

"Nat, Mistress" I replied, adding the 'Mistress' thing because I liked the idea of living.

"Oh" she replied and I guess it was okay because George continued.

"Yes, Johnny, that's when we began eating each other. Now you would think this would've caused our clans to become less cohesive but a funny thing happened; we actually became much more protective of those who survived. I would guess it's a coping mechanism designed to increase protective feelings over others of your clan in order to increase its survival but I don't think anyone's ever studied it because it's probably not something we want to remember too much. So anyway, during our isolation from each other we began identifying ourselves according to clan as opposed to one species of Superiors."

"Like Humans do."

"Yes, like Humans do, except a little more intensely."

"How much more intensely?"

"We kill members of other clans on sight" George replied.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

"That's insane!"

"No, it's not, it's necessary for the survival of our species" he said.

"Huh?"

"We are the apex predators on the planet and if left unchecked we'd certainly try to dominate the entire land which would bring us into the consciousness of Humans and if that happens we're finished as a species."

"Why?"

"First off, there are many more Humans than us. If they decided to eliminate us we'd certainly fight back but even our superior strength and healing abilities would eventually be overwhelmed by their numbers. Remember, Vampires can bear children only once but Humans can do so many times over."

"Yeah, we are good at breeding."

"There's also another reason" said Trudy.

"Which is?" I asked.

"Go ahead and tell him, George, it's your story."

"Yes, Mistress. The second reason is we need Human blood to deliver our young."

"Excuse me?"

"We need Human blood in order to deliver our young."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean you needed to repeat the sentence, I meant, well, it's just an expression of incredulity."

"Oh, I guess it is pretty incredible when you first hear about it. Remember me saying we found a way to bear young by combining our blood?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, it worked pretty well for a while but even it had a few unfortunate flaws, one of which was diluting the blood so much as to make it virtually unrecognizable as Werewolf or Vampire. The mixing of too many Superiors' blood allowed the Vampire to bear the child but it came out diluted itself."

"Huh?"

"The children of the over-diluted blood didn't have the advantages which distinguish us from others on this planet."

"Huh?"

"The children were weaker than us, had a slower healing process and were susceptible to diseases."

"Uh-huh."

"They became the other dominate life form on the planet."

"Uh- huh."

"The Humans, Johnny."

"The Humans what, George?"

"The over-diluted Superiors became what you would call Human."

"What?"

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No, I guess not. So you're saying Humans are descendants of Superiors?"

"Exactly. Diluted, weak, over-populating, short-lived children."

"Wow! So why do you need Human blood again?"

"We need their diluted blood to feed our pregnant Vampires while they're in hibernation. You see, we found the ratio of half-Human, half-Vampire blood to be the perfect combination allowing the unborn to fight the Vampire anti-bodies but still produce a Superior..."

He began but never finished because all four of my new friends instantly became very intrigued with something they heard, saw, smelled or whatever other sense they used.

"Someone's here" said Phillip and his tone of voice indicated he wasn't enthused about entertaining.

"Where?" I asked and was instantly shushed.

"Mistresses, disappear" George ordered and to my utter amazement they did. They were sitting there one moment and then, poof, two empty seats except for the clothes they'd been wearing only moments before.

"What the...?" I said as turned around to ask the two Werewolves what was going on but saw nothing. No one was there. Alright, at this time I've got to admit I was questioning my sanity. I think I can grasp how a person's mind can snap and they begin seeing things which aren't there and I began thinking maybe it was happening to me. I was hallucinating in an insane asylum somewhere and one day I'd wake up and spend the rest of my life trying to convince others it was just an isolated little incident and would they please let me out of the pink, padded room; but then they entered.

Okay, 'entered' isn't exactly the best way to describe it; more like appeared suddenly and frightened me to death. There were three enormous men standing in front of me, staring intently and sniffing the air.

"Where are they?" one of the goliaths said.

"Who?" I squeaked.

I was hauled up by the front of my shirt and found myself staring directly into a pair of the meanest looking eyes I've ever, well, laid eyes upon.

"The LeTorque" he said.

"LeTorque?" I asked.

"He doesn't know anything" one of the other behemoths said and it was then I found myself again believing in the power of extra sensory perception because I knew after the other man uttered those words the Sasquatch holding me by the front of my shirt was going to kill me. Then the lights went out.

I felt something splatter on my face, was let go abruptly and as I was preparing myself to hit the floor in what was sure to be an inglorious landing I heard George's voice say in the darkness...

"Don't move!"

The ground hurt. I may have gotten new super blood from my step family but it apparently doesn't do anything to a person's pain perception and mine is right there at the top with the best of them. I am not exaggerating this. I remember one time going to the dentist for a cleaning and needing about ten times the amount of pain killers they only prescribed because I begged and pleaded like some depraved skid-row junkie. I think the whole idea of pain management needs to be re-evaluated starting with the name. 'Pain Management' is an archaic term, let's go with 'Complete Pain Removal' instead. We're an advanced society so let's act like one and toss the whole notion there's any good to come from feeling pain after the age of, oh, let's say eighteen. If you can shoot a rifle for your country you shouldn't worry about suffering for hours in the comforts of your home because some nurse or doctor still abides by the ancient idea a little pain is good for the soul. Do you know why they said those things?

NO?

Because they couldn't cure your pain. They were hiding their ignorance. You know what?

WHAT?

They aren't ignorant anymore. They've got a whole boatload of medicines designed for the sole purpose of completely eliminating pain altogether. Now, if you're worried people might become addicted I'll grant you, it's possible, but they aren't going around breaking their arms or cracking their teeth in order to score some pills so unless you're a doctor and get hit up for extra opiates you've really got no skins in the game. You hearing me, pain-pill protesters?

WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?

Sorry. Apparently I've got a little problem with the pain-pill people, so anyway...

The lights came on and I found myself lying on the floor, in pain, and I glanced over to see the same mean eyes I'd been staring into only moments before, except this time they didn't quite look the same. Upon further review I found the reason why; the head the eyes rested in no longer resided on the neck it was previously attached to.

"Holy...!" I shouted.

"Easy, Johnny" I heard George say.

"Easy!" I yelled while simultaneously getting to my feet and orienting myself in the direction George's voice was coming but paused before I actually saw him because in front of me was another head also unattached to a body.

"Holy...!"

Okay, I know I use the word 'holy' a lot and I'm really trying hard to cut down on its usage but there are times, such as when one finds oneself confronted with severed heads, the word seems to fit the situation.

IT REALLY IS A GOOD WORD.

I think so to. So when I finally got my bearings I looked around and found myself wondering if this possible result ever entered the mind of the man standing between Phillip and George who were wielding scimitars. He seemed completely stunned at what had transpired and I guess I could sympathize but I was quickly coming to the realization every decision in the world of Vampires and Werewolves was the life and death kind.

"Hello Sebastian" purred Vivian's voice from behind the man and I quickly glanced to see if she had re-clothed. Why is the female form so seductive even when confronted with the image of two ghastly deaths I retained the innate hope of a free peep-show?

BECAUSE YOU'RE A PERVERT.

Alas, it wasn't to be and my other hope was dashed when I noticed Trudy's clothing had also disappeared from their resting place on her chair.

"Mistress?" the man asked in a bewildered manner.

"Yes, Sebastian?"

"I cannot sense you, Mistress" he said.

You could tell he wanted to look around and view her but it was pretty evident, even to my untrained eye, doing so would cost him his head. I've got to give it to the big guy, he showed real guts standing between two brutes who were, by all indications and actions, more than happy to use him as a human piñata.

"I'm aware you can't, Sebastian. It's why you were sent here to find out the truth" said Vivian.

"The truth?"

"Whether or not we had a Cloak, my sweet. Unfortunately for you, we do."

His eyes lit upon me so fast they nearly jumped out of his skull.

"Not true, Mistress! I swear, no one said anything about a Cloak."

"Yes, I know, my dear, would you have attempted it if they had?"

I saw it in his eyes; the realization he'd been duped into doing something and, something else, the decision to try the impossible. Unfortunately for him so did George and Phillip.

The hamstrings are a group of muscles located on the back side of the upper legs and are partly responsible for locomotion. All muscles contract, it's all they can do, they can't move sideways or circular and they can't do anything when cut. George and Phillip severed the man's hamstrings so fast I didn't actually see the event, I only viewed him dropping like a bag of rocks onto the hard floor. You would think it would've been enough but I guess in Superior world things need a little more reinforcement; slicing the man's biceps to the bone apparently was it.

"Trudy?" Phillip called out.

"Right here" she responded while coming from the back of the nightclub bearing what looked like a bunch of medieval leggings and irons and stuff. After they trussed the poor guy up I realized that's exactly what they were.

"Guys?" I asked.

"Yes, Johnny?" Trudy replied.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to question him" she answered sadly.

"What do you need the chains for? You just cut the man's..."

The guy was moving both his arms and his legs! Two minutes before he'd been lying on the floor writhing in agony because all four of his appendages had been rendered useless by the two scimitar wielding Werewolves. Now he was kicking out and trying to break the bonds on his upper arms through sheer brute strength. I was further astonished for it looked as though he might've been able to accomplish the task if given the time; but it was not to be the case.

The walk-in cooler is a staple of any modern restaurant because of its sheer size. It's basically a refrigerator on steroids and can hold anything from pre-made pastas, vegetables, meats and, if the occasion warrants, one large Werewolf shackled to a chair near the vanilla ice cream.

"Mistress, please" he said to Trudy and I saw the sadness in her eyes disappear.

"What Sebastian? Would you beg for your life now?" she cooed, but not in the good, dove-cooing way. This was a contemptible coo and it left me rethinking my first impression of the starry-eyed secretary.

"Please, Mistress" he pleaded.

The response was not what I expected from such an adorable creature because adorable creatures don't grab hold of a defenseless man's ear with a pair of pliers and rip it off. It was then I decided to take my leave of the giant ice box and seek the warmth of the kitchen proper. It seemed Trudy had everything under control and didn't need my presence for protection; also, Phillip was standing next to her with his bloody scimitar and a wolfish leer on his face.

"Hello, Sweetie" said Vivian leaning against the kitchen cutting table.

"Hello, Vivian" I responded.

"You did well in there" she said.

"Did well? I didn't do anything."

"You didn't run."

"Because the man was holding me five feet above the ground. Believe me, if I could've run, I would've run."

"Please stop, Mistress!" I heard from the cooler.

"Well, you did good anyway. We might just be able to get out of this little scenario with our family intact."

"Okay, what's going on here?"

"We're being tested. Another family has decided to take what was once ours and make it theirs. First, they found out how to get to Peter. Then they found you which allowed them to get Melissa inside our defenses and kill Peter. Then they took over our offices. And finally, they probably let word get out we were one Werewolf short and had a Vampire hibernating during pregnancy."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Please, stop" came a voice from the cooler but it wasn't as loud this time.

"Yes, that's all."

"I was being facetious, Vivian."

"So was I, Johnny."

"Oh, well, very good job then. So, what's going to happen next?"

"We're going on the offensive."

"Offensive?"

"Yes, it means we're going to stop acting defensive and try to be more proactive."

I knew what 'going on the offensive' meant but I didn't correct her misinterpretation of my ignorance because I felt it wasn't necessary at the time; also, the whimpering coming from the walk-in cooler was a tad bit distracting.

"How are you going on the offensive?" I asked the stunning blonde Vampire.

"We've already begun. After Trudy finds out what Sebastian knows we'll have a better chance of learning which family is attacking us."

"But don't you already have an idea? I mean, you know it was Melissa who killed Peter so wouldn't it be her family who's responsible?"

"We know her name as Melissa only because you told us, we don't have any idea which Vampire it actually was."

"Huh?"

"We can change our appearance, Johnny."

"Really?" I asked and I've got to admit I was waiting with baited breath for her to do so right there in front of me.

"Yes" she replied.

"How?" I asked.

"Plastic surgery."

"Oh." Nowhere near as cool as what I imagined.

It was then the cooler door opened and Trudy and Phillip emerged looking blood spattered and, I have to say, a little exhilarated; nothing like a little torture to get the juices going. I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and noticed the time to be eight-fifteen in the morning which was exactly twenty-four hours since I'd last awoken from my bed.

"That was fun" said Phillip and I shuddered because he genuinely looked as though he was telling the truth.

"Did you learn anything?" asked Vivian.

"In a round-about way, yes. Sebastian and his cohorts were informed to keep an eye on our office and if they saw anything suspicious they were to assume we were vulnerable" replied Trudy.

"Something suspicious?" inquired George who'd just entered from the nightclub's bar area after cleaning up the blood from two beheadings and one maiming.

"Yes, something suspicious, like a helicopter swooping in and flying away without landing."

"I guess that would be a little suspicious looking" George murmured.

"But how did they know to come here?" asked Vivian.

"He said everyone knew about this place" said Trudy.

"What? How?" asked George.

"Well" said Trudy glancing at Phillip " we didn't actually get the answer before..."

"I cut his head off" said Phillip.

"You what?" asked George.

"I cut his head off. Somehow he managed to loosen his chains and I thought I saw him make a lunge at Trudy so..." he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh, Phillip" said Vivian with a sigh.

"I'm sorry Mistress. Sometimes I act a little impulsively. Trudy and I've been working on it but..."

"Hold on, I think I might have our answer" said George as he ran out of the kitchen leaving the four of us standing there looking at each other until we shrugged and followed him out.

"I knew it!" he exclaimed from behind the main bar where he was bending down and perusing something.

"Knew what?" asked Vivian.

"I knew he was cheating! The dirty low-down... cheater!" George never was any good at hyperbole.

"Knew who was cheating?" said Trudy.

"Peter."

"How do you know he was cheating?" I asked because I was feeling left out of the conversation.

"Twelve bottles of Bloody Mary mix" he said.

"Huh?"

"Twelve bottles of Bloody Mary mix" he repeated and once again I decided not to inform the merry gang of blood-thirsty torturers my 'Huh?' wasn't one of not hearing the response but a reaction to a statement which might need a little more refining.

"How does Bloody Mary mix prove he was cheating?" I asked instead.

"Johnny, why do you think we call this place Bloody Mary's?" George asked.

"Um, I thought it had something to do with the Vampire thing; you know, a play on words and all."

"I guess it had a little to do with it but the main reason's because it was Peter's idea in the first place. He thought it would be a nice side investment with liquor being a pretty stable commodity and he loved a good Bloody Mary so we went along with his little scheme because it did sound like a good idea."

"So?"

"So, what's the purpose in having a bar?"

"To sell drinks."

"Exactly. And why do bars give away peanuts and pretzels?"

"Okay, I'm not sure where you're going with this but I'll play along. I think it's because they're salty and make people drink more."

"Right again. Bars want people to drink more so they can make more money. It's capitalism at its best; supply and demand. But there are some drinks we want to sell more than others; do you know what they are?"

"I have no idea, George."

"Straight liquor, Johnny. It's got the highest profit margin of anything we sell."

"Okay."

"Do you know what we don't want to sell?"

"Crooked liquor?"

"No, good answer though. What we don't want to sell are mixed drinks with lots of fillers in them. Do you know why?"

"You know I don't."

"We don't like to sell them because the fillers coat the customer's stomachs which makes them feel fuller which makes them skip our little salty snacks which cuts into our bottom line because they don't drink as much; got me?"

"I think so."

"Good. So why would we have so many bottles of Bloody Mary mix? It's got the one thing we don't want in a drink; tomato juice which coats the stomach."

"Maybe because you called the place Bloody Mary's?"

"We're not catering to the Bloody Mary crowd. I don't think there even is a Bloody Mary crowd. When's the last time you had one?"

"What, a Bloody Mary?"

"Yes, when's the last time you had one?"

"I don't know, college maybe?"

"Exactly. No one drinks this stuff anymore except as some weird hangover concoction or something. No, the only reason we've got so much of this profit-sucking swill is because someone really likes their Bloody Marys'. It doesn't make even the slightest bit of economic sense to keep so much of this stuff anyway. Do you know what would happen if everyone started drinking Bloody Marys? We'd go broke! Heck, we'd have noticed a huge profit loss if our clientele were drinking this much because they wouldn't be drinking the other stuff. No, we've got one customer who can come in here and drink so much we'd stock twelve bottles of mix in a cooler with limited capacity and stocked according to usage. Can you think of any species with the appetite and nutritional absorption ability to get our bartenders to stock twelve bottles of money losing tomato juice into a limited capacity refrigerator?" he asked.

"Okay, I'm guessing you want me to say a Werewolf" I replied.

"Exactly! A Werewolf with a sweet-tooth for Bloody Marys. A Werewolf with enough clout to get our bartenders to overlook the bottom line and stock their cooler with this unsweetened catsup syrup. A Werewolf with the knowledge he wouldn't be missed by the other half because she's otherwise preoccupied."

"Excuse me, you lost me there."

"Stephanie, Johnny, she's in hibernation having Peter's child."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot."

"It's okay, it's a lot of information to take in" George said.

"Hey George?"

"Yes?"

"Can you explain again why you think he was having an affair?"

"Why do you go to bars, Johnny?"

"Oh."

Chapter 8

We were driving along the interstate because I needed to check on my one bedroom apartment and the four of them were unsure whether Bloody Mary's was a safe place to stay. If you're wondering what happened to the three amigos who lost their heads, don't fret, the kitchen was equipped with all sorts of cutting and hacking utensils which quickly made mincemeat of them. On a side note; never, under any circumstances, eat off the menu at Bloody Mary's.

My apartment was located in the city of Irving, more specifically in a section of Irving named Las Colinas. Las Colinas means 'the hills' in Spanish and I cannot for the life of me figure out why someone decided to call it so. Other than some speed bumps there doesn't seem to be any elevation change at all but it does have one thing going for it; an amazing sculpture of mustangs in motion. If you haven't seen it, do so. It will reinforce your inherent belief there actually is a place in this world for art. Anyway, my little domicile was on the third floor of an apartment complex designed as a sort of Texas Soho which tried to incorporate the feel of a northern neighborhood where shops and living quarters were within walking distance of each other. It hadn't worked by the time I took residence but I think it was because the economy went ker-flunk right after they were built. When I was there it was living quarters without the shops which gave it an urban-flight feel except without the flight because no one had lived there before which kind of eliminates the 'flight' aspect from a definitional point of view. The six-hundred square-foot room I rented had a view of the street and other, more pricy developments, located across the street so it was actually pretty nice; I didn't spend much money and looked out upon others who did. As we walked up the stairs I began racking my brain to remember if I'd left the place in some semblance of order but, unfortunately, knew it would look like a train wreck. I hadn't had a date in a while, didn't see one on the horizon and had always been utterly hopeless at picking up girls from nightclubs, restaurants, sporting events, well, you get the picture. About the only place I'd never tried meeting a girl was at church because it always struck me as inappropriate to try and fool God into thinking I was interested in finding a nice soul-mate when the fact was I'd probably be imagining her nude the whole time we were at Bible Study. So I never cleaned the place. I mean it. I never cleaned the place. I would move things around in order to avoid stepping on them but I never actually put anything up.

"My God, man!" said George.

"Oh goodness" said Trudy.

"Could definitely use a woman's help" said Vivian.

"Huh? What's the problem?" said Phillip and I secretly knew I liked him best but we could never be roomies.

"Okay, okay, just give me a second here to straighten up a smidge" I said while picking my toaster off the carpet.

"Johnny?" said Trudy.

"Yes?" I said.

"How old is this?"

The pizza box she held might as well have been a Santa's Secret Prize for all the remembrance I had of it.

"Dude" I heard George say to Phillip "check out the fridge."

Alright now, before we get too far I would like to point out one minor fact in life; supermarkets get top money for aged cheese. Aged milk, I believe, becomes yogurt or sour cream. Aged eggs? Exceptional for home defense.

I rummaged around and found my home phone handset under a pile of clothes I guess I used as a protection cover of some sort and pressed the button to activate my answering machine which my handset was supposed to sit on but which I had no earthly idea the location of until I heard it beep and say "You have no messages". How pathetic is that?

HOW PATHETIC IS WHAT?

I was gone over twenty-four hours and not a single phone call. Maybe it helped I hadn't had a real job for so long my old creditors had finally given up trying to recoup even a portion of their misguided loans. To this day I thank the Lord above this great country decided it'd probably be impossible to imprison everyone who reneged on their outstanding debts. If they did, who would they get to make the phone calls demanding payment?

I DON'T KNOW.

Do you know where you are on the economic ladder when you find yourself hassling broke people to give what they don't have?

NO.

On the same rung as the people you're calling. You might as well have a conversation with yourself.

"Johnny?"

"Yes Vivian?"

"Why so much hand lotion?"

Time to change the subject.

"You know what? I just remembered something; you called Sebastian by his first name. Did you know him before?" I asked Vivian.

"Yes, he's a Beta we've known was patrolling the area for some time."

"A Beta?"

"A less-dominate Werewolf. He is, or was, an unattached male looking for a Vampire."

"And he thought...?"

"He thought the three of them could come in, kill George and Phillip, and take over our pride."

"You do that?"

"Of course. Every species does it, only not in the same overt manner."

"Human's don't battle for their mates, Vivian."

"Yes they do, just not in the physical sense anymore, now they do it economically."

The woman could debate.

"Be that as it may; how did you know Sebastian and his friends were about to enter the bar?"

"I would've thought you'd figured it out by now."

"Nope, still clueless."

"We smelled them."

"Excuse me?"

"We smelled..."

"Sorry, sorry. I meant, how could you have smelled them?"

"By their odor."

"Okay, sorry again. Bad question. Let me rephrase it. How far can you smell?"

"As far as odor can travel."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Unlike Human's we never lost our scenting ability."

"You never lost your...? Never mind. Different question. Why did Humans lose their scenting ability?"

"Because they quit being prey" Vivian said with a grin.

"Because they...? Look, this is going to take forever if I have to get it out of you one question at a time; could you please give me the shortened version?"

"Sure, Sweetie, you need only to ask. Okay, when Vampires first began delivering Humans we were very protective of them because they were so cute and vulnerable; like little puppies. Anyway, we sheltered them and fed them until they were old enough to strike out on their own, which they did, and which was a complete disaster. You see, Humans aren't actually the most gifted predators in the world, at least not when working by themselves, and those mean old lions, tigers and bears were eating them right up. Well, we took a look at what was happening and decided to do something about it. Do you know what it was?"

"Please tell me you didn't eat them."

"No Sweetie, we didn't eat them. We taught them cooperation. We'd learned something from our eons of hibernation and it was how to organize. So we rounded them all up, put them into large groups and had them try again. I've got to tell you we were a little worried at first because they were just so bad at the actual killing part. I mean, they had these little fingernails and tiny teeth so you can't really blame them for losing most of their prey. But you know what they did have back then? The sense of scent. All animals have it because without it you can neither detect food from afar nor escape from danger you can't see and Humans need all the forewarning they can get, what with their stubby little slow-moving legs and all. So they lived in groups and used their noses to tell them when to run for the trees which didn't really work when you're running from lions, tigers and bears but you get the point. They were capable enough to last long enough to invent weapons which was the game changer. Now when those mean old predators tried to attack our cute little Humans they got what was coming to them; a bunch of spears in their butts. Well, over time those same predators quit attacking our Humans so they didn't need to use their sense of smell for protection and then another thing came along and all but put an end to their olfactory proficiency."

"Farming" I said.

"Yes, farming. Good for you. So our cute little Humans began their first foray into agriculture and now they didn't even need their adorable little nostrils to find prey for food. Isn't that just the neatest thing? They evolved their need to scent into a sense of smell."

"But Superiors didn't?"

"Oh no, honey, we couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because we were bred to kill."

The statement seemed to need refining and I was about to keep on questioning the perky little platinum but something was said which led me to abandon that line of thought.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"What's on all of these video tapes?"

"You know what? I just remembered my apartment complex never gave me a copy of the rental agreement so I guess we don't need to keep looking. Where are we headed next?"

"The library" answered George.

"The library?"

"Yes, it's a place where people go to gather information."

"I know what it is, George, why are we going there?"

"We need to find out more about Industrial Products."

"Oh" I replied.

"So where's the nearest library?"

"I have no idea."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously, George."

"That's sad, Johnny."

"Why? No one uses them anymore. You can get all the information you need from the internet and for that you only need a computer or smart phone."

"Do you have a computer or smart phone?" he asked.

Okay, the internet revolution took me by surprise, I readily admit. For a long time everything I saw on television or read in magazines led me to believe women never, ever, went for the geeks. Geeks played on computers, thus, avoid computers. Now, I was also taught information was power but since it didn't mention women I tended to ignore that bit of wisdom and instead worked on the social skills necessary to climb the hierarchal ladder which promised a harem of scantily clad females; drinking. I know, I know, it sounds stupid now but look at what I was influenced by; commercials on every channel showing bikini-clad women having the time of their lives promising you it was all possible if you did the one thing all the commercials had in common and drank beer. It didn't matter what kind, they all delivered the same package clothed in bikinis. So I, as a good viewer of television, bought the story they were selling which led me to ignore the new geek-like field of computer engineering which was just a fledgling degree when I started my six years of higher education and instead focused on the tried and true field of Liberal Arts which gives the young student a nominal understanding of many differing areas and an expertise in none. Uh-huh, I can hold a conversation with you on just about any problem facing society today but ask me for a solution and I will imitate Helen Keller with laryngitis.

"No, I don't have a computer or smart phone, George" I said.

"Why not?" asked Phillip.

"Because I have a degree in Liberal Arts."

"Oh."

You see what I mean?

NOPE.

The man didn't need to ponder the answer for a fraction of a second. Six of the hardest partying years in my life wasted down the drain, so to speak, on a worthless four year degree; and what did I have to show for it?

A DIPLOMA?

A fraternity jacket and possible cirrhosis of the liver.

We were finally driving on a road with only one name because the freeway dual-name designators were probably too busy high-fiving themselves over the number of hopelessly lost visitors wandering their city to bother confounding the local population. The library, to me, is one of man's most noble investments in its youth and it's a shame things have come to an end but the fix is in and I can't say there's any justification for providing tax dollars to fund a building most of society views as a relic of the pre-information age. The fact something which was not ancient a mere twenty years ago but is so today should lead one to believe society has absolutely no idea where it's headed. If I'm correct, and I sometimes am, it was only thirty years ago they were designing libraries with materials which had the strength and resiliency to last a hundred years and more. Now what are they going to do with them?

WITH WHAT?

Libraries, Einstein. You know they're not going to tear them down; they were built to last a hundred years for crying out loud! Should they turn them into museums?

YES?

For what... books?

THEY DON'T SOUND VERY SMART.

Actually, they're too smart for their own good; at least technology-wise.

"There it is!" shouted Phillip and we all stared at him because there were five of us in one pickup and a mere pointing of the finger would've sufficed.

George parked the truck and we all piled out and entered the library. The silence of libraries has always been their undoing because people are inherently social when placed in social situations and a large building containing thousands of interesting topics is definitely a setting for social interaction; but we're told to be quiet so others can read. Why?

HUH?

I ask this question in all honesty. Why are the majority of citizens in an advanced society always asked to bend to the will of a select few?

I DON'T KNOW.

We all know virtually everyone checks books out of the library. Why be quiet so a couple of people with home-reading issues can have their little oasis of privacy?

TO BE POLITE?

You want quiet?

I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU'RE TALKING TO?

Go home!

"Hello, can I help you?" the little grey-haired lady said.

"Yes, we'd like to use one of the computers, please" I said.

"Do you have your library card?"

"No."

"Do you live in Irving?"

"Yes."

"May I see your driver's license?"

"Sure."

"This says you live in Austin."

"Yeah, I used to live there but now I live here."

"Well, we need a local driver's license."

"Will a local electricity bill work?"

"Yes, do you have one on you?"

"Yes, right here" and I handed her a copy of one of my old electric-bill statements.

What's with the government and their need to know where you reside?

THEY'RE CURIOUS?

Every time I get asked for my driver's license they invariably want to know if my address is correct. I know what they're doing and so do you. If for some reason I decide to take up a life of crime they'll know the first place to look. Now, I don't plan on taking up a life of crime but if I did why would I willingly give them information to terminate my new employment?

YOU WOULDN'T.

Dang right, I wouldn't, and it's not like they really need the information anyway, not in today's society. We all know they know where we live. Have creditors ever not been able to find someone?

I DON'T KNOW?

No, the real reason they want to see your driver's license is to check if your address is current, which it won't be, because no one under thirty resides in the same place for more than two years anymore because no one's job is in the same place for any length of time. It's a money grab. They see your license, verify your address is wrong, then threaten you with a fine if you don't get it corrected. Then you spend a whole day the following week waiting in one of the slowest moving lines since the Russian Bread Shortage only to be charged twenty-five dollars by a surly government employee who has no more incentive than a prison-guard to make your life any less miserable.

"Here you are, dear" the little grey-haired lady said as she handed me my brand new library card.

"Thank you ma'am" I told the cute little nanny.

"And sir?"

"Yes?"

"You'll probably want to get your driver's license updated."

Big Brother is getting older, greyer, and femaler.

FEMALER?

It means more female.

I DON'T THINK IT ACTUALLY DOES.

We entered the library's main room and were confronted with the amazing array of shelves lined up in rows holding thousands of books the local population gave up reading sometime in the early eighties. Why the early eighties you ask?

I DIDN'T.

Because books are one of our discretionary time wasters; same with television, movies and video games which became much more entertaining during the decade. It was only a matter of time before they surpassed books as our preferred method of entertainment because they're much easier on the grey matter; actual thought and interpretation being replaced with sound, sight and gore. So, do books have a place in modern society?

NO?

Yes.

THAT'S WHAT I MEANT TO SAY.

Because sound, sight and gore only get you so far. After about a decade of the same trivial junk show-business churns out the people begin to realize they've seen it, done it and are bored with it.

"Where do we start?" Trudy asked after sitting down in front of one of the library's ten free computers.

"Just search for anything on Industrial Products" said George.

So Trudy typed in 'Industrial Products' and ,voila, we were in business. Actually we were on the website for Industrial Products which seemed to be about it.

"What next?" asked Trudy.

"Check on 'Contact Us'" George replied.

She did so and an address with a post office box came up first followed by a 1-800 line and finally the address to the website we were currently on.

"Okay, this is what we used to verify the appointment with Peter so copy the address, post office box and phone number then go back and make a new search for Bob... what was his last name?"

"Simpson" I responded.

"Okay run a search for Bob Simpson with Industrial Products in Dallas."

She did so and right away we found a link to a website.

"It's the same one we just left" Phillip said.

"Alright, what was the other guy's name?" George asked.

"Steve" I said.

"Steve what?" he said.

"I have no idea."

"What? Okay, never mind. What was Melissa's last name?"

"I have no idea."

"You have...? My God, man!"

"I'm sorry but we weren't really on a last name basis."

"Let me try something" said Phillip.

"Go ahead" said George.

"Okay, Johnny, you ready?" said Phillip.

"Shoot."

"What's your last name?"

"Johnson."

"What's Bob's last name?"

"Simpson."

"What's Steve's last name?"

"I have no idea."

"Huh? Well that didn't work."

"That was your bright idea? Ask him the same questions I did, only faster?" said George.

"Yeah, I think I saw it on one of those self-help programs or something" replied Phillip.

"What was it called?" I asked.

"I don't remember" he said.

"You watched a self-help program about memorization and can't remember what it was called?" asked George.

"Yes... no... I don't know."

"You don't know what?" George asked.

"I don't know how to answer the question" Phillip replied.

"Boys!" Vivian said authoritatively.

"Yes, Mistress" they replied in unison.

"Let's quit worrying about who remembered what and find a clue as to who's doing this to us."

"Your right, Mistress, I'm sorry. Trudy, could you go back to their website?" asked George.

"Sure. Okay, here it is. What're we looking for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary."

"Anything out of the ordinary? Who are you, Inspector Cousteau?" said Phillip.

"What? You can remember the name of an obscure French detective but you draw a blank on the name of the show purporting to help you do it?"

"He's not obscure."

"I'll bet you don't even know what 'obscure' means."

"I do too. It means vague or abstract; kind of like what your face is going to look like if you keep talking to me that way!"

"Why you little...!"

"Boys!"

"Yes, Mistress."

"I want you two to separate. Phillip, take Johnny and see if you can jog his memory about Steve or Melissa's last names" said Vivian in her cute little perky manner.

"Come on, Johnny" Phillip said while lifting me off the ground as he grabbed my arm.

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"My feet aren't touching the ground."

"Oh, sorry" he said while letting go.

"Phillip?" I asked.

"Yes?" he answered as we walked down the self-help section of the library.

"Earlier, Vivian said you were bred to kill; what did she mean?"

"Pretty much what she said. The Heavens designed us to be top predators on this world."

"Okay, but she said Humans lost some of their scenting ability because they no longer had to worry about becoming prey, right?"

"Yes."

"So if you're the top predators why do you still have all your scenting abilities?"

"Because we're also prey."

"To what?"

"To ourselves."

"You're prey to yourselves?"

"Yes, the Heavens designed us to be the top predators on this world so we seek to dominate all, including our own."

"How can they design you to do that?" I asked.

"Chemically."

"Excuse me?"

"Chemically, Johnny. All of us; you, me, the lions, tigers and bears are all a big huge mixture of molecules. Some of those molecules make up our skeleton, some our muscles and some our hormones which are chemicals used to regulate how we perceive the world."

"Huh?"

"Have you ever disliked someone?"

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know? Because they made me mad."

"Why'd they make you mad?"

"Usually because they tried to make me do something I didn't want to, I guess."

"Surely you've had people who've made you do things you didn't want whom you still liked?"

"Yes."

"Why the difference? One person asks you to do something and you dislike them the other asks the same thing and it's okay. Why the difference?"

"The way they ask?"

"Okay. Why is the way they ask important?"

"Probably because one asks and the other orders."

"So why would ordering you to do something make you mad but asking be okay?"

"Because if you ask me I can say 'no'."

"Exactly. You retain the ability to say 'no'. You keep your individuality and you don't subordinate yourself to another."

"And your point is?"

"Your individuality is controlled by your hormones. When someone asks you to do something you retain the ability to say 'no' and thus keep control of your individuality. When someone orders you to do something it's an attack on the very essence of your being and your body responds the only way it knows how by releasing chemicals in preparation for one of the two possible outcomes."

"Which are?"

"Fight or flight; yes or no, if you will. You can agree to the demand and dislike the person because they assaulted your individuality or you can disagree and face the consequences which come with it."

"And the consequences are?"

"Punishment, job loss or, at its most primal and natural level, physical confrontation."

"Oh."

"So when we Werewolves meet each other we meet at a primal level, Johnny."

"You fight."

"We kill."

"But Vivian said Sebastian was a Beta, a less dominant Werewolf, isn't that a kind of subordination?"

"Good, very astute observation, I'm proud of you but the answer to your question is no."

"Why?"

"Because 'Beta' doesn't mean subordinate; it's merely the designation of a Werewolf who's not mated with a Vampire."

"Oh. So Sebastian and his friends were...?"

"Un-mated Werewolves."

"And they were going to...?"

"Kill me and George to take over our family."

"Which includes...?"

"Trudy, Vivian and Stephanie."

"Okay, that's where I'm coming up with the problem. If they killed you and George why would the girls become their... what did you call it?"

"Their mated. And the answer to your question is actually quite simple; we don't feel love" he said.

And there's the crux of the problem. You people readily admit killing each other. How can an intelligent species not be able to get along for the good of all if they cared for each other? The answer; they can't.

WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?

No one. It's a mental exercise to help sort one's thoughts.

OH? HOW DO YOU DO IT?

By thinking, so don't try it without supervision.

"But you and George seem to love Trudy and Vivian" I said.

"We're protective of them. We'd fight to the death anyone who would try and take them from us but if Trudy were to fall victim to some accident tomorrow where she could not recover I would not mourn her, I would look for another to be mated with."

"How awful!"

"It's not awful, it's chemical."

"You're blaming chemicals for leaving Trudy on her deathbed?"

"No, she wouldn't be on her deathbed, she would either recover and I wouldn't leave or she would die and I would. Remember, we don't get sick like Humans and what doesn't kill us, doesn't kill us."

"But...?"

"Johnny, there's an easy way to look at it; do you want to hear what it is?"

"Do you promise it's easy?"

"Yes."

"Then go ahead."

"Alright, love is like an illegal drug..."

"Hold on."

"What?"

"You can't say something is easy to understand and then start the descriptive process with an illegal drug."

"Why not?"

"Why not? I don't know, but for the record it doesn't sound good and I think you should come up with a better analogy in the future."

"Analogy?"

"It means a descriptive story."

"I know what it means, I'm just surprised you know."

"Why?"

"You know."

"No I don't, tell me."

"Uh, the Liberal Arts thing."

"Alright, alright, just get on with your story."

"Okay, love is like an illegal drug in the way it affects the brain's pleasure center, namely the Dopamine receptors. Do you know what Dopamine is?"

"Sure."

"Really."

"Of course not you big oaf! Do I look like a person who knows what that is?"

"Wow! Sorry, Mr. Sensitive. Alright, Dopamine is what gives Humans the ability to feel euphoria because it regulates the chemicals responsible for pain or pleasure."

"Huh?"

"You know Werewolves and Vampires were created by the Heavens to be Superiors, correct?"

"Okay, if you say so."

"I do and the green Alien also said so."

"Good point. Okay, so you were created superiorly, so what?"

"The Heavens created us in such a way our every molecule, our every atom, works as it should. We begin healing the instant we're harmed, we use energy as expediently as possible and we age at a rate virtuously imperceptible to Humans. These attributes give us an enormous advantage over all other species on the planet but they do have one drawback."

"Humility?"

"No, Johnny, we have no need for fear."

"No need for fear?"

"Nope, fear is a Human trait which evolved from necessity."

"Why?"

"Because without fear Humans would've lasted only a few generations."

"Really?"

"Yep, fear is what keeps Humans from doing incredibly stupid things again and again."

"Like what?"

"Like taking on a lion, tiger or bear with their bare hands."

"Okay, I get you but... then what is fear?"

"It's a chemical non-reaction."

"What?"

"Johnny, what's the opposite of fear?"

"Courage."

"Sorry, no, courage is a byproduct of fear. You can't be courageous without fear. Look at it this way; it's one thing to attack a lion with your bare hands to protect a family member, it's quite another thing to club a baby seal to death because someone likes the feel of their fur."

"Okay, then what's the opposite of fear?"

"Euphoria and, surprisingly, it's actually the Human preferred state of being."

"Excuse me?"

"Humans came from Superiors so the natural way for them to feel is euphoria but, because they are such a watered down blood-ancestor of ours, they didn't inherit our superiority over the other creatures so Nature opened pathways for fear, anxiety and worry so Humans would be on edge and survive. But since Nature's a nice gal she also created a chemical which would alter those pathways to provide some relief."

"And that chemical is Dopamine?"

"Well, there's a whole bunch of chemicals involved but for our purposes we'll stick to the big one, and yes, it's Dopamine. Since Humans don't heal instantaneously they need to be warned away from doing things which would harm them so lingering pain and inflammation evolved to help them understand their stupidity. Humans also don't live very long so precaution and worry for the future were also provided by nature as sort of a kick-start to get their butts in gear. Add these things up and you get the emotional state of Humans today; worrisome future-planners. Now this may seem like a bad thing but it's not because those worrisome future-planners evolved the one thing we Superiors lack."

"Humbleness."

"No, curiosity and innovation. If it were just us Superiors on the planet we'd probably still be hunting wild game and living in caves. Remember, we were around a long time before we bred Humans and we pretty much accomplished nothing because we didn't need to."

"The mother of innovation..."

"...is necessity. Humans needed to innovate in order to survive."

"So what does this have to do with love?"

"The carrot and the stick. Innovation is best served with the promise of pain or, better yet, the feeling of pleasure. Now remember, Humans come from us so they began life as little Superiors until they got eaten by the lions. Now, Nature is quite simplistic in her intricate design so what do you think would be easier to accomplish; introduce a whole new set of chemicals and neurons to generate a feeling of unease and thus protect them from themselves or just sort of throw a breaker into the mix and cut off their natural feeling of euphoria?"

"The breaker part?"

"Yes, good answer. Nature merely chose some Humans who were wired a little incorrectly, those with the breaker already thrown, which was good in this case because it kept them fearful and alive and those Humans went on to sire other little Humans with the same genetic flaw."

"Okay, then why do we still feel pleasure at times?"

"Because Nature used a circuit breaker; she kept it around for emergencies and sometimes those emergencies show up in the form of love."

"What?"

"Dopamine is a sort of chemical circuit breaker. When Nature throws the switch Dopamine comes alive and you get high."

"Oh... but you always feel Dopamine?"

"Yep. We're Doped all the time. Our whole lives are lived in the feeling of euphoria so I guess you could say 'We're high on life'."

"You've been waiting a long time to use that; haven't you, Phillip?"

"Longer than you can possibly imagine, Johnny."

It was strange walking down the self-help aisle of the local library with a Werewolf; more so, considering he was giving Humans a compliment through insult but the day had been pretty remarkable. By the way, why are there so many self-help books on acquiring wealth?

I DON'T KNOW.

And who in their right mind would give away their secret to financial success?

I DON'T KNOW.

If everyone read their book and became successful then the author would no longer be considered a success because success is based upon the unsuccessfulness of others. That's writing your way into mediocrity.

YEAH, OKAY, I GET THAT.

I seriously doubt it.

"Hey, Johnny?" Phillip said.

"Yes?"

"Any chance you remembered their last names?"

"Not a clue."

"Alright, let's head on back and see if the others have found anything."

So we began walking back.

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"You said Werewolves don't feel fear, right?"

"Correct."

"But when you and Trudy were in the cooler with Sebastian I distinctly heard him beg for mercy?"

"So?"

"So, if someone is begging for mercy aren't they begging you not to do something which will hurt them? Aren't they, in essence, pleading for you not to do a future event? Isn't that fear of the future?"

"It would've been if he were actually doing that, yes."

"But he wasn't?"

"No."

"What was he doing?"

"Begging to die."

"He was begging to die?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Johnny, what's the thing Humans fear most?"

"Great White Sharks."

"Okay, good one. Why do they fear Great White Sharks?"

"Because they eat you."

"And when they eat you...?"

"You die."

"So what do Humans fear the most?"

"Alright, you want me to say death, right?"

"Yes, Humans fear death the most."

"And Werewolves don't?"

"Remember, we don't have the wiring for fear."

"So...?"

"We look forward to it."

"You look forward to it?"

"Uh-huh, it's the great unknown, the last mystery if you will. What's beyond the physical limitations of the body and all that sort of stuff."

"That's insane."

"Why?"

"What if there's nothing? What if all you get is a big old bag of squat?"

"Then you don't have anything to worry about do you?"

"Okay, then what if it's horrible with a big pit of fire and some man-goat walking around jabbing you with a pitchfork?"

"Then I'd rip his head off."

"You can't rip the Devil's head off, Phillip."

"Why not?"

"Because he's the Devil" I said.

"So?"

"So you just can't do it, it's not an option."

"Why is it not an option? Who says?"

"The people who know."

"How do they know?"

"Because God told them."

"How do you know God told them."

"Because they said so."

"That's a circular argument, Johnny."

"I know, I never really was any good at the religious stuff."

"Don't worry, no one is."

"Why?"

"Because of fear. Religion has, as it's backbone, a set of rules you must follow in order not to face horrible consequences when you die. Do bad things and meet your fate, do good things and enjoy eternal bliss. Do you know why Humans invented those concepts?"

"Curiosity about the afterlife?"

"No, they were afraid. They were afraid other Humans would kill them in their sleep, steal their stuff or rape their wives and girlfriends so they made up perfectly rational rules everyone was to follow but it had one problem; do you know what it was?"

"No."

"The consequences of doing bad only applied while one was alive. Let's say you were a really bad person and you knew you could steal another man's wife by killing him in his sleep; what was to stop you from doing it?"

"Because you'd burn in Hell."

"In the beginning there was no concept of Hell. The only thing to stop you was the knowledge the other villagers were going to find you and kill you. But if that's all there was to it then you might just decide to take the chance and live happily ever after raping the poor woman until you got tired of her, killed her and stole someone else's wife."

"That's horrible."

"That's Human."

"So in order to stop the guy from stealing your wife..."

"Eternal damnation was incorporated into the teachings of every religion and has remained so ever since. It's actually quite effective and, in my view, the correct interpretation of how things should be."

"But you said you didn't believe in... ? Well, I can't even use the word 'Heaven' anymore since now it's a planet populated by green Aliens."

"No, you can use it, for all we know it's exactly the place we wind up after we die."

"Okay, but you said you didn't believe in Heaven and Hell."

"No I didn't. I said I wasn't afraid of Heaven and Hell."

"But you suck peoples blood for your pregnant Vampires?"

"And you kill whole cows to slate your hunger; what's the difference?"

"Cows aren't people, Phillip."

"No, they're inherently nicer, Johnny."

When we got back to the computer area of the library we found Trudy still sitting in front of the monitor with the cutest little frown of concentration on her forehead. Why are women so adorable when in deep thought but men appear to be having a migraine?

BECAUSE THEY JUST ARE.

Anyway, we looked around for Vivian and George but didn't see them and after an uncomfortable minute of waiting for Trudy to acknowledge our existence I coughed.

"Hi, Johnny. Any luck coming up with those last names?"

"No, sorry."

"It's okay, I'm sure you're trying."

I hate it when girls do that. Of course I wasn't trying, I knew I had no chance whatsoever of coming up with those last names but now because a pretty girl hinted she had faith I was at least attempting to access my black-hole of grey matter I had to try; didn't I?

YES.

So I sat down and gave myself a migraine.

YOU GAVE YOURSELF A MIGRAINE?

Not actually, nincompoop, it was a play on words.

"Where's George and Vivian?" Phillip asked Trudy.

"George is checking out back-dated phone books and Vivian is calling Nat."

"Why?"

"Because there's absolutely no reference to anyone resembling our Bob Simpson anywhere near the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex except for the website" she said.

"What?"

"Other than the website promoting Industrial Products it's as though Bob Simpson never existed. So George is looking to see if he just didn't make it into the computers for some reason by perusing previous years' phonebooks and Vivian is calling Nat to see if he can find out any information on the police computer."

"Is that normal?" I asked.

"Is what normal?" Trudy replied.

"Not being referenced on the internet."

"No, it's not normal, and it's most definitely not if you're a salesman."

"Why?"

"Because your job is to sell. How are you going to sell if people can't find you?" she responded.

"Oh."

"You weren't very good at your job, were you?" said Phillip.

"No, I wasn't. Thanks for pointing it out."

"You're welcome."

"I was being facetious."

"Facetious?"

"It means..."

"I know what it means, I'm just surprised..."

"Hey! For the last time, when I picked the major it was still a viable employment career!"

How is it possible after all the time science fiction writers spent warning us about the downside of machines we'd go right ahead and produce them to do the exact thing the authors were predicting would happen?

WHAT DID THEY PREDICT?

They'd put us out of business. Now, I know it's the wave of the future and all but, seriously, did we really think a robot arm capable of welding a joint was going to do anything other than enrich one already wealthy individual at the expense of another, un-wealthy one?

MAYBE THEY THOUGHT IT WOULD IMPROVE EFFICIENCY.

As far as I can tell, modern technology is merely replacing Humans by doing the exact same thing only at a lower cost and faster rate. Who are we benefitting with that insane idea?

THE CONSUMER?

Okay, I've got to give you one. But the consumer is made up of people who need to work in order to purchase the goods the machines are making. So, if the machines are taking all the jobs who is going to purchase the goods?

THE PEOPLE WHO BUILT THE MACHINES?

Okay, another good point and I'm really surprised you've been able to string two of them together...

THANK YOU.

... but your argument falls short due to the law of supply and demand. It only takes a few people to operate a machine which does the work many received a paycheck for in the past. The machine can spit out supply at the same rate the multitudes did but at a fraction of the cost because the owner of the machine only has to pay a few instead of many. Sounds good, right?

YES.

But whose going to buy the goods? Machines are profitable because they produce a vast quantity of goods not a better quality of goods. Heck, they only have the ability to produce one quality because they don't possess imagination.

HUH?

They don't think; they just do. Machines are best when producing stuff vast in quantity which is, by definition, viewed as desirable by the masses who have been put out of work by the thing producing what they previously did.

I'M NOT GETTING YOU?

The goods produced by machines are almost always aimed at a market they've unemployed.

WHO?

The people whose jobs they took.

THEN THOSE PEOPLE NEED TO FIND NEW JOBS.

Okay... what jobs?

THE JOBS RUNNING THE MACHINES.

There's not enough of them. It only takes a few to produce what the many once did.

THEN THEY NEED TO FIND JOBS IN A DIFFERENT FIELD.

Okay, what field?

ENGINEERING, PHYSICS, STUFF MACHINES CAN'T DO.

Okay. That'll work. But it's going to put the I.Q. people out of business.

HUH?

The I.Q. people, the ones who measure intelligence.

WHY WOULD IT PUT THEM OUT OF BUSINESS?

Because why would you need them if everyone had the mental capacity to understand engineering and quantum physics? Do you see where I'm going here?

NO.

Not everyone was born with the intelligence to comprehend Vector Calculus. Heck, ninety-nine percent of the people in the world got the short end of the stick there. What are they going to do when machines have removed labor as a skillset leaving only artificial intelligence as a viable means of employment?

I DON'T KNOW?

Look, I'm all for modern technology but I think they'd better start to get a grasp on what they're doing before half the people on the planet are sitting around with absolutely nothing to do and no prospects of doing it if there were something to do because they don't have the job or money to do it.

On to another subject; what the heck is up with gravity? Why hasn't the moon hit us by now?

"Hey, everyone" said George.

"Oh, hey, George" I responded because it's what you're supposed to do when someone joins a group.

"Alright, I checked every local phonebook dating back to nineteen-eighty and I came up with seventy-nine different Bob Simpsons."

"Really? That many?" said Trudy.

"Yeah, apparently it's a popular name."

"Okay, let me see the list and I'll start searching the internet."

"Don't bother" came the voice of Vivian as she walked back in to join our band of wanna-be detectives.

"Why not?" Trudy asked.

"He doesn't exist."

"He doesn't?" she asked.

"Nope, except for the Industrial Products website, our Bob Simpson doesn't register in any civilian databases."

"What about the government databases?" Trudy asked.

"Nat said he'd get back to us."

"What? Since when does he need time to access information?" George said.

"I don't know; but I couldn't really call him on it, could I?" the gorgeous Vivian responded.

"I'm getting a bad feeling here" said George.

"You should, no one's reported either man missing" replied Vivian.

"No one?" added Phillip.

"Nope, not a single call or inquiry to any police department anywhere."

"Um, excuse me?" I said.

"Yes" Vivian responded while looking directly into my eyes and for a second I forgot what I was going to ask but then I remembered.

"How could he possibly know?"

"Know what?"

"The reports to every police department. How could he possibly know every police department heard nothing?"

"Because he's from Heaven, silly" the blonde bombshell chirped.

"Oh for Heaven's sake! Sorry, bad phrasing there. I mean, how can he possibly know every report from every police department?"

"Because the Heavens developed us. They bred us, implanted us on Earth and have been monitoring us from the beginning" she replied.

"So?"

"So, doesn't it make sense the Heavens would be a slight bit ahead of us in the technology race?"

"Oh."

"Yes, sorry Sweetie, if you think Big Brother is bad wait till you get a load of the Big-Green-Spying-Machine" Vivian replied with the most delectable chuckle.

"How can they do that? Do we have transistors imbedded in us or something?"

"Something close. They monitor us chemically."

"Chemically?"

"Sure. Every organism on Earth has a chemical makeup, the higher the organism the more diverse the chemical makeup. The Heavens devised a way to categorize us according to species."

"Oh my God! Can they see us at all times?"

"Well, kind of; they can tell between species, Sweetie, like the difference between us and Humans or the difference between Humans and apes so they can sort of narrow it down as it were."

"Then how...?"

"There's only so many of us, Johnny, and we're very territorial so they usually have a good idea of where we are but even so..." said George.

"Even so what?"

"They use bugs."

"Bugs?"

"Electronic surveillance."

"Yep, it kind of sucks to know your always being monitored, doesn't it?" said Phillip.

"But... but... ?"

"Don't worry, they don't care about your video tapes" he added, which I ignored after giving him my most penetrating and lethal stare, which he ignored.

"What I was going to say was 'How does knowing where an individual is located help them monitor all the police reports?'."

"Oh it doesn't, Sweetie, they just listen in to every call the police stations get and wait for code words which in this case would definitely include Bob Simpson, Steve What's-his-name and Industrial Products" answered Vivian.

"And no one reported anything?" I said.

"Nope" she replied.

"Which means?" I asked.

"I'm positive I have a bad feeling about this" finished George.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" said Phillip.

"Yes" responded George and I guess everyone else was thinking the same thing because they all started heading for the exit.

"What? What are you thinking?" I asked while trailing the foursome.

"I think we threw something away we shouldn't have" said George over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Bob and Steve."

Chapter 9

We ended up driving over one of mans' least impressive inventions; the toll road. For a period in my education I was inundated with patriotic pride over the rebellious colonists who risked life and limb to gain their freedom over a despised monarchial form of government. One of the lessons they taught was poor people don't like to be reminded they're poor, not when they're the ones producing everything for a bunch of self-righteous nitwits whose only reason for being wealthy was because some long-dead ancestor had the privilege to impress some long-ago heir to a long-lost empire and was rewarded with property they neither earned nor maintained. The most memorable story was of the King's Road which was essentially a dirt path someone had to pay to travel on. Now, I don't think the peasants cared a whit over the fact some people were riding in golden carriages while others were barefoot (maybe those wealthy people did something good for society and earned their rides?) but when it came time to charge for the road I think there's where the problem arose. People don't mind others are successful, everyone wants to be successful, but what they don't like is when people are arrogant with their wealth. Charging poor people to travel the same path on Mother Nature's Green Earth as the wealthy is the utmost in arrogance. It's about money. Wealthy people have it, poor people don't. You want to buy a castle to get away from the masses?

SOUNDS GOOD.

Okay, if you've got the money, go for it. You want the masses to keep their distance from you as you travel through their part of town?

YES.

Whoa there big fella!

OKAY, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Greed, Humpty-Dumpty, I'm talking about greed. It's the most evil trait the Human population possesses and some have it more than others.

I THOUGHT GREED WAS GOOD? I THOUGHT GREED GOT PEOPLE TO ADVANCE SOCIETIES FORWARD?

Yep, it can, but it carries with it one small defect which makes it deplorable.

WHAT?

Narcissism, greed is a byproduct of it. Greedy people are selfish; they see themselves as more deserving than others so they spend their lives acquiring wealth in order to prove it.

SO?

So, in order to acquire wealth you must take it from others. The easiest way to do it and not think of yourself as a narcissist is to develop the belief the people you're taking it from are inherently less than you.

"I hate toll roads" I whispered to Trudy.

"Why, Johnny? I love them" Trudy whispered back to my utter dismay.

"Because they discriminate against poor people" I responded wittily.

"No they don't" she responded confusingly.

"Yes they do. Poor people don't have the money to travel on them" I retorted brilliantly.

"That's not discrimination, Johnny. They can travel on the toll roads anytime they want if they get the money."

"But it equals the same thing because they don't have the money."

"That's their fault, Johnny."

And there's the struggle free societies will face if they're to remain free. Some people will always have more than others.

I LIKE THAT!

I thought you would.

"I still hate toll roads" I emphatically declared.

"I hear you, Johnny. Look at that old jalopy hogging the fast lane. There should be a law, 'No cars older than ten years'" said George from the front seat and I could literally hear the first colonists rolling over in their graves.

The time was roughly noon, Central Standard Time, and the day was roughly hot. And by hot I don't mean the blissful, moisture-filled Florida hot or the nice, sauna-like Arizona hot. No, I mean Texas hot; the kind of hot where you flinch like you were hit with bird poo every time you stick your head outside an air-conditioned environ. I read somewhere there were places on the planet hotter than Texas and if it's true then I have pity on the poor desert dwellers. You know a place is hot when you subconsciously avoid anything made of metal and a dip in a huge reservoir of water brings virtuously no relief at all. That's where we finally found ourselves after driving about an hour on the amazingly congested freeway we had to enter after exiting the amazingly empty, high-fallootin' toll road.

"Okay, everyone, hop out" said George and I waited until the last possible second to exit the blissfully cool pickup truck.

"Hey!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, Johnny?" Phillip inquired.

"I'm not hot! I'm sweating like a soaker-hose but I'm not hot."

"Your body has adapted to our blood which will make all your bodily functions perform at their optimal level."

"Huh?"

"You'll perspire to rid yourself of the excess heat."

"Wow! But won't I run out of sweat?"

"Yeah, if you don't replace the fluids your body will shut down and you'll be in a coma-like state to save whatever fluids you need to survive."

"But wouldn't I fry if I was lying in a coma?"

"Yeah, come to think about it you probably would. We can do it because our bodies would keep repairing any sun damage until nightfall but you...? Well, don't worry about it until it comes up."

"Don't worry about it?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

"Don't think of elephant, Phillip."

"Don't think of elephant? What's that got to do with... oh, okay, point taken."

I DON'T GET IT?

I knew you wouldn't.

The five of us were walking down to the lake's shoreline and I'm always amazed by the sight of a big body of water; it's got the ability to mesmerize a person just by its sheer unadulterated beauty. The rippling of the water adds movement but the gracefulness makes it serene and pleasing to the eye; a little like fire if you think about it. The lakeshore was tranquil and quiet with nary a bird in the sky nor squirrel on the ground.

"How far out did you throw them?" asked George.

"About fifty yards" responded Phillip.

"Fifty yards?" I asked in amazement.

"Yes" Phillip responded nonchalantly.

"Man, you should've played football, you'd be in the Hall of Fame."

"What's the Hall of Fame?" asked Trudy.

"I'm sorry; what did you just ask?" I answered in stuttering confusion.

"What's the Hall of Fame?" she responded with the same incredibly incomprehensible question.

"What's the...? It's... It's..."

"Johnny, I've got this one" Phillip kindly interjected.

"It's... it's..." I couldn't get the words out because the question was so far-fetched as to warp the very fabric of time and space itself.

"Trudy, the Hall of Fame is where they honor the best football players in America" said Phillip.

"In the world!" I corrected.

"Oh, the guys who kick the ball into the net?" she asked.

"Oh... my... God!"

"Easy, Johnny. No, that's what they call football everywhere else in the world except America."

"What does America call it?"

"Sissy-ball."

"They do not call it sissy-ball, Johnny, they call it soccer" said Phillip.

"Why do they call it soccer?"

"Guys?" George interrupted.

"Yes?" both Phillip and Trudy replied in unison.

"The body parts...? The lake...?"

"Oh, okay, remind me later and I'll tell you why America changed the name of every sport England ever invented" Phillip said to Trudy.

England should've seen it coming. It's only common sense a country who fought a bloody war for independence would pick its own names for the national pastimes it enjoys and football, make no mistake, is America's favorite national pastime. No other sport brings such violence and grace into play throughout the game as the great gridiron smash-em-up. Now, many people would argue baseball is America's favorite pastime and they've got somewhat of a small point since it has been historically longer in the country's psyche but I would like to point out one thing; it is unequivocally, eyelid-dropping, snore-inspiring, boring at times.

I LIKE SOCCER.

You would.

American politicians have gone through many changes as the population grew; from agricultural appeasement to the tried and true practice of being bought and paid for by those with money. But one thing has remained pure in those vote-begging mongrels' hearts; always praise the entrepreneur. Entrepreneurs are an amazing group of individuals because they see what others don't, namely, a way into your pocketbook previously untapped and for a country based on capitalism it's the single most admirable trait a citizen can enjoy. The fact virtually every idea those amazing individuals come up with ends in complete and utter failure only adds to their mystique.

"Welcome to Joe's Boat Rentals" the friendly man with the abundance of tattoos said as we walked up en mass to his shop located next to the marina on the lake.

"We'd like to rent a boat" said Vivian and the man's shiny gold incisor shined brightly in the afternoon sun as his goatee parted in a wide smile.

"Sure, big enough for the five of you?" he asked.

"Yes please" she smiled back and I'd bet you a million dollars the man would've stolen a boat if he didn't already have one in order to please the stunning blonde Vamp.

"Have you ever rented here before?"

"No" she answered.

"Okay, no problem. I'll just need a little information and we'll get you on the water right quick. Would you follow me?"

"Sure" she said and trailed the man into the small fifteen-by-fifteen foot storage shed which served as his office to entrepreneurial boat rentalism.

George followed the two of them because it's what he was designed to do by the green Aliens who bred into him the protective qualities of a mother duck on steroids. Meanwhile Phillip, Trudy and I checked out the vast array of water vehicles available to rent. They included three ten-foot john boats, seven varying styles of jet-skis and one twenty-foot pontoon boat.

"Ooh! I've always wanted to try out a jet-ski" Trudy said in her delectable way.

I did too, once, and made my wish come true one lazy afternoon about three summers before and it was quite the wild ride, let me tell you; what with smashing my face into the handlebars about six times followed by treading water for what seemed like an hour while the hungry machine circled me like a shark hunting a moribund grey seal.

"You should do it sometime, they're a lot of fun" I responded in my manly, done-it-all fashion.

"Hey! They've got canoes!" shouted Phillip.

"Have you ever been canoeing, Johnny?" asked Trudy.

"Uh-huh. One time in summer camp" I responded.

"Was it fun?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, it was a blast" I answered because it was fun. Well, it was fun for me.

If for some reason you get the chance to go canoeing, do it, but remember one thing; whom you choose to canoe with is the most important decision you will make the entire day. I chose Mike; a big, strapping young man who was three inches taller and probably forty pounds heavier at the time. It started out great, cutting downstream at a pace fast enough to feel like you were making progress but not so slow you would miss the scenery and it would've ended great if not for one small thing; paddling upriver. It was, and still is, by far the most exhausting thing I've ever attempted, and I mean 'attempted', because I don't believe I was any help at all to poor Mike for about, oh, nine-tenths of the trip. Who would've thought pulling a stick through water would use so many muscles I previously believed didn't exist. Most of the stories of the early settlers who conquered the land tell of striking battles with the Native Indians which ended in scalpings, swordfights and other horrific events. I don't believe it to be so.

NO?

No, I believe the early settlers merely bided their time at locations they knew the Indians traveled upstream by canoe to visit and when they arrived, attacked the poor saps because they were too exhausted to put up a fight. I know I would've been. If you were to wait for me on the bank, a place I paddled upriver to get to, you would merely need to amble down and plunge your dagger into my heart for there would be absolutely no resistance from me.

GOOD TO KNOW.

"Okay guys, we're all set" Vivian exclaimed as she bounded down the slope to our location by the water's edge.

"Which one did you get?" asked Trudy.

"The pontoon!" Vivian said excitedly.

"Ooh! The pontoon!" Trudy responded with just as much enthusiasm.

George and Phillip smiled at each other and I'm sure I know why. Female enthusiasm is so much more exciting than male enthusiasm. It must be the extra chromosome or the lack of one, I can never remember which it is but, whatever it is, it makes girls so much more enjoyable to be around when they're actually excited about at an upcoming event. Guys are too stoic, they take some of the fun out of something new because they're so worried about being cool they forget how to have fun. Except for football of course, the real football, the American kind, where men get paid to make other men addicted to painkillers.

"This is nice" said Trudy as the boat motored along at a slow clip.

"Yes it is, we should do this more often" answered Vivian.

"Yes, we really should" Trudy replied.

"About here, Phillip?" asked George.

"Yeah, I think this is about it" he replied.

"What exactly are we doing?" I asked.

"We're picking up Bob and Steve" he replied.

"And how exactly are we going to do that?" I responded and was answered with the sound of a splash as Phillip dove into the murky water.

"Seriously? You're going to search around in gar infested water for their bodies?"

"Sure, why not?" answered George.

"Because it's gar infested water, George. Alligator gar, you ever heard of them?"

"No, are they dangerous?"

"They're called alligator gar."

"So?"

"Not guppy gar; alligator gar."

"What's your point, Johnny?"

"They've got teeth, George."

"So does Phillip" he responded.

I wasn't sure how to respond so once again I chose silence as the best answer.

"Um, guys?" I said.

"Yes, Johnny?" said Trudy.

"He's still down there."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't you think he should be back up by now?"

"Oh, he'll be up after he finds them."

"After he finds...? How long can he hold his breath?"

"About eight minutes or so" she said.

"Eight minutes? Really?"

"Yes, the brain requires oxygen after four minutes or else it starts to experience damage. Once you get to eight minutes then you're really talking trouble but since we heal so fast the eight minute barrier is what we rely upon."

"Can I do it?"

"We don't know, there haven't been any of you around for so long we don't have a good reference to rely on."

"Excuse me?"

"We don't really have..."

"I got that part, it's the other part I didn't quite understand."

"What part?" Trudy replied.

"The part about there not having been any of me around."

"Oh, well..."

"Got one!" Phillip shouted as he emerged on the north side of the pontoon boat.

"Which one?" asked George.

"Don't know. It's just one of the arms but I saw the others so we'll have them both back up here in no time. Head's up!" he hollered as he threw a waterlogged man's arm into the boat.

"Looks like one of Steve's" said Vivian.

And then it twitched.

"Holy...!" I yelled.

"There it goes" said Trudy.

"What a shame" said Vivian.

"How could we not have looked" said George.

"It just moved! Look! It's doing it again!" I yelled.

"Yes, Johnny, we know, we're standing right here with you" replied Trudy.

"But... but...?"

"Heads up!" Phillip screamed from the water as two more arms were tossed on board.

"Holy...! They're all moving!"

"Yes, Sweetie, we see them too, would you please stop shouting" Vivian said.

"But... ?"

"Look out!" and the upper half of Steve What's-his-name landed on board with a thud. He looked like a weeble-wobble with just a torso and head and maybe, just maybe, I would've been able to take it but then...

"He... just... blinked!" I said as I jumped overboard.

I've always been a good swimmer and think I could probably tread water for an hour so when the gorgeous Vampires asked if I was all right and needed any help I responded...

"No, I'm fine, thank you very much."

... and would've been quite content to keep on floating except...

"Hey, Johnny?"

"Yes, Phillip?"

"What do you call a man in the water with no arms or legs?"

"Huh? Look, Phillip, I'm a little freaked out right now so I would appreciate it if..."

"No really, Johnny; what do you call a man in the water with no arms or legs?".

"I don't know."

"Bob!" he replied and in front of me out of the water rose the head of Bob Simpson.

Chapter 10

"You two have got to quit doing that" I heard Trudy say in a scolding manner.

"Hey, I didn't do anything, Mistress" George responded.

"Not this time you didn't but don't for a second think we don't know who's idea it was back at the dumping ground" she replied.

The dumping ground, I assumed, was the final resting place for poor old Peter North .

"Not true, we were both in on that one" he replied.

"Hold on, hold on, that was all your idea, George" I heard Phillip say.

"What? No it wasn't, I distinctly remember you saying..."

"Boys!" Trudy yelled.

"Yes, Mistress" they responded.

"Shut up!"

The two very powerful and very murderous Werewolves went immediately quiet. If the world ever came to its senses it would immediately ban all males from holding any power of authority over the public good; women are just inherently better at it. Maybe it's because of their lower testosterone, maybe because they're born physically weaker or maybe it's because they're more level-headed but, whatever the case, there should be a law stating any man running for a position of higher governance should be immediately castrated and then, if they still want to run, more power to them.

"Johnny?" I heard Vivian say.

I saw no reason to respond.

"I know you're awake."

Okay, response required.

"Yes, Vivian?"

"Are you okay?"

"Are we in the boat?"

"Yes."

"Are the others in the boat?"

"Yes, we're all here. Trudy, Phillip and George are right over..."

"Not them."

"Oh, you mean the others?"

"Yes, the others. If I open my eyes are they going to be lying next to me?"

"Um... okay, hold on a second there..."

I could hear the movement of liquid-soaked body parts and was relieved I'd asked the question because I wasn't sure how my heart would respond to opening my eyes and seeing the faces of Bob and Steve staring at me from the boat's floorboard.

"Yuck!" I heard Phillip exclaim.

"What?" came George's response.

"His eyeball came out."

"Oh, you big baby, just stuff it back in."

"Aw, man."

"What?"

"It popped."

That one statement got me off the floor so fast I don't believe I consciously did it. It's one thing to lie there with eyes closed and pretend the outside world doesn't exist; it's quite another to do so if there's human eyeball-goo around you.

The floorboard of the pontoon boat was a disgusting mess with brown, wet clay from the bottom of the lake muddying up the waterproof carpeting. Other little items were lying around like seaweed, pebbles and moving crawfish.

"Eww" I said staring at the miniature lobsters with horror and revulsion.

"What's wrong, Johnny?" Trudy asked.

"I think one of them has a tongue."

"Oh, hold on" she said and then did something which shook the very foundation of my world.

I, like most my half of the species, hold women in the highest regard and therefore maintain certain perceptions of them which are as concrete in my views as they are utterly unobtainable in the real world. In my warped view of the world women don't do certain things I know full well they do; they don't belch, they don't use the toilet, they don't pass gas and they never, ever, snatch a human tongue from the claws of a hungry crawfish and jam it back into the maw of the poor mute it was previously attached to.

"Hey, Johnny, you okay?"

"Yes, Phillip, I'm just peachy."

"Peachy?"

"It means 'fine'."

"Okay, cool, then can you give me a hand here?"

The 'hand' he was referring to was quite literally a hand or, more precisely, the left arm of Steve.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. Hey, don't worry, it won't bite."

I hesitantly moved toward the appendage Phillip indicated, bent down, grabbed its pinky with my index finger and thumb and...

"Aaaaagghh! Get it off! Get it off!"

... screamed like a school girl at a haunted house when the thing grabbed back.

"Okay, okay, calm down now. I've got it, Sweetie" said Vivian in the soothing manner of hers as she pulled the clammy thing from my grasp.

"Calm down? That thing's still alive!"

"No it's not, Sweetie."

"Yes it is! It just grabbed me!"

"It's not alive, at least not in the way you think" she replied.

"And what way would that be?"

"It's not thinking, it's just reacting."

"Just reacting? Okay, calm down, Johnny, you're just seeing things" I said to myself out loud in front of four other people who were looking on with complete amusement at my antics.

"What are you four grinning at?"

"You, Sweetie, you're just so cute when you get all riled up" purred Vivian.

"Really? Cute? Me?"

"Sure, you. Now do me a favor and grab a leg over there."

I wonder if women understand the power they have over men. We will, and have, gone to war over them for no other reason than having them say things like 'You're cute' or 'You're adorable' when we know quite well we're no such thing. But males are morons and thus easily distracted so I walked over to the three-foot extremity, picked it up by its ankle and brought it over to the vivacious Vampire all the while trying to ignore the kicking and shaking the thing had been doing since I lifted it from the floorboard.

"Okay, Johnny, good job. Now I want you to jam the leg back into Stevie-boy here, okay?" said George indicating the torso he was putting together like some macabre Mister Potato Head.

"Okay, here?" I indicated by placing the upper half of the thing against a gaping hole in the torso which previously was Steve What's-his-name.

"No, Johnny, that's where his right arm goes."

"Oh, sorry, it's my first time."

"And you're doing splendidly" said Trudy as she looked up from twisting Bob's right leg so his foot would be facing forward.

It took about fifteen minutes to sort out the body parts by trial and error since both men wore the same standard salesman suit of blue but after a little bit of work we had two life-sized ventriloquist dummies sitting on their haunches against the side of the boat.

"Are they just going to sit there and stare at us?" I wondered aloud.

"For a while, yes" said George.

"What are they doing?" I asked because you could hear something going on inside them.

"Re-animating" he said.

"What does that mean?"

"The parts with energy are recombining."

"Recombining? You mean they're growing back together?"

"Yes, some of the parts will, some won't."

I don't know what I was going to ask next. I remember I was going to ask something but then Bob wrinkled his nose.

"What the...? Did you see that?"

"Yes, Johnny, I'm standing right next to you" replied George.

"He just... He just..."

"Okay, Bob here's got a little bit of brain activity; anything with Stevie-boy?"

"Hold on, it looks like... maybe... oh, nope, never mind... just a crawfish" Trudy said as one of those creepy looking shellfish crawled out of Steve's right ear.

"What's going on here?" I asked.

"We're waiting to see if there's any life left in these two. If so, we can..." began George.

"Whoa! Hold on. We've got tongue action" said Phillip in a surprisingly exuberant voice.

The four of them appeared to get excited about then and I don't know why but I felt a little giddy-up in my step also. Maybe it was because I was blood-bonded, maybe because their mood was infectious or maybe it was because we were all pulling for the two previously dead, shot, dismembered and drowned sales guys to just pull on though that minor little setback in life.

"Alright, let's get them back to Johnny's place" said George.

"Huh? What? Hold on a second there."

"We need a place to go so we can find out what these two know" George said.

"Why my place?"

"Well, we can't go back to the office and Bloody Mary's is out."

"But these guys are..."

"Dead?" he tried to help.

"Wet" I answered.

"What, are you worried about getting your security deposit back?"

"Yes, there's a chance I could get it back."

"There's no chance."

"What are you talking about? It's not bad."

"It's bad" said Trudy.

"Sorry, Sweetie" said Vivian.

"I don't think it's bad" said Phillip which sadly reinforced the other three's side.

The waters of a lake on a Texas summer day are very soothing to the soul when aboard a boat gliding silently along except for the soft hum of the inboard motors turning the propellers which produce a soft wake for the eye to see and ascertain where one had come from.

"I wish they'd quit doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Blinking."

If you choose the proper time and day you can have the vast expanse of water all to yourself, eliminating the need for outer concentration to ward off potential boating hazards and allowing for inner contemplation to hopefully further one's understanding of his or her place on this great, big, blue-marble of a planet.

"Okay, I wish they'd go back to the blinking thing."

"It's a natural reaction to the submersion."

"Well, they don't need to look at me while they're doing it."

"Everyone drools, Johnny."

Clear skies, calm waters and a stiff breeze are what I heard all sailors wish for when heading out to sea. We had clear skies and calm waters but, unfortunately, we had virtually no wind save two.

"My God they smell!"

"They were down there a long time, a lot of gases build up."

Large seafaring ships need deep hulls in order to keep them afloat and upright during the sometimes violent and vicious storms Mother Nature throws at them. Because of this they also need harbors in which to dock those behemoths of the oceans, harbors deep enough to handle the hulls, hulls which are not necessary for lake-riding watercraft.

"Shore, George."

"I see it."

"You might want to slow down then."

"Why?"

The captain of a ship is the master of his vessel, the ultimate authority while at sea and nothing less than a mutiny can change the fact. Many lives have been saved because when push comes to shove decisions must be made and the person at the top must have the power to make those decisions stick even if they seem contradictory to passenger safety.

"Wheeeee!" screamed a Vamp.

"Ride 'em cowboy!" screamed a Wolf.

"Son of a...!" screamed I.

Momentum is an inherently natural thing to understand; something moving takes a little time to stop. We perceive this in our everyday activities and prepare accordingly in order to make the transition from movement to immobility as seamless as possible; if we didn't?

"You okay, Johnny?"

"No, I'm not okay, you rammed the boat onto the shoreline at full throttle."

"I wanted to save us as much distance as I could so we wouldn't need to carry Bob and Steve so far."

"Well, if that was your intention then very good job."

"Thanks."

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny."

"Get Bob and Steve off me!"

Entrepreneurs run a very high risk of failure not because their ideas aren't worthy but because they generally involve the public's use of those ideas.

"Mr. Joe?"

"Hello, Miss Vivian. Did you have a good time?"

"We had a great time, Joe, except for one small problem."

Large boats which get beached on a shoreline are a difficult thing to correct because they involve a unique set of problems which must be overcome; namely, how to get a heavy object off a soft surface. If a boat were to be grounded on pavement it wouldn't be hard to move; get a crane or forklift, drive up to the boat and lift it away. Shorelines are different because the ground is soft. The soft ground doesn't allow heavy machinery like a crane or forklift to get close enough to lift the boat because the equipment's tires would sink into the Earth.

"Great! Just great. What are you going to do now?" I asked George.

"Shove it back into the water."

"Shove it back in the water? How? The thing must weigh well over..."

"Philip?"

"Yes, George?"

"Can you give me a hand?"

"Sure."

"You two are making a mistake. There's no way the two of you can..."

They shoved it back in the water.

"See, Johnny, it just needed a little push."

"Okay, I've got to give it to you two, that was amazing. I mean, I knew you were strong but..."

"It's the Werewolf blood. You see, if you were born a Wolf you'd be able to..."

"Uh, Phillip?"

"Yeah, I know, I'll quit mentioning the Wolf thing but sometimes..."

"The boat, Phillip."

"What boat, Johnny?"

"Exactly."

"Exactly? What does exactly have to do with..."

"Oh my God, the boat!" screamed George.

Chapter 11

Entrepreneurs come in all shapes and sizes and so do their ideas. Some of those ideas have changed the world for the better, some for the worst, but they all start out as a little spark of imagination. Now, imagination can carry people a long way, all the way to top possibly, and that same imagination isn't confined to inventing new things for people to use; no, sometimes it's used to invent new ways for people to use old things. A case in point; people have been sailing for a long time and it was usually for work or voyage but as the Human race progressed sailing became a popular hobby for some. Those people tended to be rich because, well, boats are not exactly an everyday use item for most since most don't live on the water and fish for a living. After a while, though, boating became more affordable and the middle class began experimenting with boat-ownership themselves. It seems like a fun past time but, like everything else, it does have its disadvantages such as storing and cleaning. Some of those middle class boat-owners decided to unload their little water-party-cars which is where Joe came along. He saw a need and filled it. If someone with modest means wished to drive a boat all they needed was to give Joe a little money and, shazam, part-time boat owner. It seemed like a no-brainer to Joe. It's not like we're talking the ocean here; this was a lake and anyone with any common sense can have the time of their lives on a lake. Heck, the boats he had weren't fast enough to pull a water-skier.

"You sank the pontoon?"

"Yes, we're very sorry, Joe" said Vivian.

"How can you sink a pontoon?"

"Um, I don't know. We were boating along and it started to go down."

"But it's a pontoon, Miss Vivian? They're impossible to sink."

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened" she answered and if I hadn't known the truth I would've completely believed her for she had such a sorrowful look on her cute little face and tears welling up in her big, blue eyes.

"It's okay, Miss Vivian, I guess sometimes things happen."

"But you'll be okay, right? You've got insurance?"

"Well..."

And that's the greatest problem entrepreneurs face; the one-time catastrophic event they hadn't had the time to save for because if they had the resources they'd no longer be entrepreneurs, they'd be success stories.

"How much did it cost us?" George asked.

"Forty thousand" Vivian answered.

"Huh? I thought it'd be more" he responded.

"Johnny, you've been quiet ever since I paid Joe. What's the problem, do you think I paid too much?" she asked.

"I think you got taken to the cleaners" I answered.

"How?"

"There is no way a piece of wood strapped over two canoes is worth forty thousand dollars."

"How much do you think it was worth?" asked George.

"Probably half as much."

"Why the cheating scoundrel! I'm going back and rip his head off!"

"Why, George?"

"Because he lied, I can't stand liars."

"But you lied to him."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did, you said his boat accidently sank."

"It did accidently sink."

"You ran it onto the shore."

"Yes, but I didn't think it'd sink."

"What did you think would happen if you ran two aluminum tubes onto a sunbaked shoreline?"

"I thought, okay, I didn't really think about it. But that's not the point!"

"What's the point then?"

"The point is, okay, I don't know what the point is either but I don't like it!"

"George" interrupted Vivian.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Let it drop. Forty thousand isn't worth the trouble."

"It's not the money, Mistress, it's the principle of the thing."

"What principle?" she asked.

"What principle? Okay, I don't know what principle, I only know..."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, Johnny?" said Vivian.

"Did you say forty thousand wasn't worth the trouble?"

"Yes, Sweetie, I did."

"Are you rich?"

"Oh, I don't know, what would you consider rich?"

"Someone who didn't think forty thousand dollars was worth the trouble."

"Oh, then yes, we're rich."

"How rich?"

"We don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"How could you not know?"

"Well, it's like this; we sort of invested in the stock market a few years back and our finances fluctuate a little."

"A few years back?"

"Yes."

"How many years?"

"At the beginning."

"You invested in the stock market at the beginning?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"We invented it."

"You invented the stock market?"

"Yes, we had to."

"Why?"

"To hide our finances."

"To hide your...? Okay, short version again, please."

"Sure, Sweetie, like I said, you only need to ask. Okay, we had a little problem during the Middle Ages due to the wealth some of our kind accumulated so... What, Johnny? You're giving me a weird look again."

"The Middle Ages?"

"Yes?"

"You just said you were around during the Middle Ages."

"Yes?"

"How old are you?"

"A woman never tells. So anyway, some Vampires and Werewolves began attracting a little too much attention because of their wealth. Now, this normally wouldn't be a problem but a complication popped up which had the local populace in the area a bit miffed."

"What?"

"Starvation. The weather patterns around there were ruining the crops and the peasants began starving so they got angry which got them killed. Problem solved right? Wrong. There was a surge in population and an increase in relocation we hadn't seen before so the next wave of peasants came in and we had to kill them too but this led to a little too much coincidence for a lot of the wealthier class of Humans who were riding the starvation out along with us Superiors; and you know what happens when one group of wealthy sees a vulnerability in another, don't you?"

"No, what?"

"Acquisition, Sweetie. The wealthy Humans went after what we Superiors held."

"What did you hold?"

"The same thing all wealthy people held then; land."

"Land?"

"Yes, land. The wealthy Humans wanted the Superior lands and they went about acquiring it in the most ingenious way."

"How?"

"By spreading the truth. Well, not the truth exactly but a facsimile of the truth which was even more effective."

"What?"

"They invented the first Vampire and Werewolf stories."

"They invented...? Never mind, please go on with the story."

"Sure, Sweetie. Okay, the wealthy Humans were in the same boat as us Superiors because the starving peasants were eying them with just as much jealousy and hatred. When people are starving it doesn't really matter how someone acquired their wealth, the only thing which mattered was a few people were living while a whole lot were dying. So the wealthy Humans were in a bit of trouble because, quite frankly, this was the Middle Ages and food was completely dependent upon Mother Nature who'd decided in her infinite wisdom there were too many people around and maybe she should starve them away. Anyway, it appeared the wealthy Humans would need to give up some of their hoarded crops when they got wind of peasants dying around the lands owned by one of our Elders. This probably wouldn't have even caught their attention except she did something really, really stupid."

"What?"

"She bled them."

"She what?"

"She bled them. She was preparing for her pregnancy and thought she could solve two problems at once; put down the peasant uprising and fill her coffers with Human blood she could use in her pregnancy. I know now it seems a little bloodthirsty but at the time Human life wasn't nearly as revered as today. Remember, those Humans only lived till about forty back then and they had scores of babies because they expected to lose most of them before adolescence. If you think about it she was probably right in her thinking since most of those peasants were going to die naturally of starvation anyway but, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"How many did she kill?"

"Oh, she killed all of them. Actually her family killed all of them but she was the one who gave the order so it generally falls on her shoulders."

"What was her name?"

"Isabella Satan."

"Satan? As in Satan, the Devil?"

"Yes."

"But Satan is a male."

"No, Sweetie, she isn't. Senora Isabella Satan is a Vampire who was single handedly responsible for the Dark Ages to follow. The wealthy Humans heard about the deaths of all the Satan's subjects and saw the opportunity..."

"Hold on."

"Yes?"

"I've never heard of Satan being a Vampire."

"Well, in the Middle Ages women weren't allowed to hold positions of power if they were married. Isabella Satan was married to Lucifer Satan."

"So then...? Okay, I'm confused."

"The titular head of the family was Lucifer but remember we're a Matriarch so the actual head of the family was Isabella."

"So the wealthy Humans...?"

"Blamed the bloodless corpses on the only person they believed had the right to control the family; Lucifer Satan."

"And Lucifer Satan was?"

"A Werewolf."

"Okay, weird but okay. So, why did the wealthy Humans make up the Vampire and Werewolf stories?"

"So they could have a scapegoat. It's been going on forever; if you're in a position of power, things are going bad and you have no answer for the problems facing you, blame someone else. It helps if the person you're blaming is in the minority and during the Middle Ages the wealthy were definitely in the minority."

"But it was the wealthy who were blaming the other wealthy."

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"Yeah. So what happened?"

"Well, the wealthy Humans made up stories like we drank peoples' blood and Werewolves only came out during the full moon, stuff like that, and the peasants swallowed it whole. They started revolting against the Satan until..."

"One second."

"Yes?"

"Why did they make up stories about Werewolves?"

"Oh, that was Lucifer's fault. You see, the local population was much more numerous than the Satan family so they couldn't just run right out and rip their heads off."

"Why not?"

"Johnny, we might be strong and fast but we can't fight sixty peasants with pitchforks. Eventually one of them is going to get a lucky jab and then, well, have you ever seen a pack of hyenas around an antelope carcass?" asked George.

"Yeah."

"They've got nothing on a bunch of hungry peasants with giant eating utensils in their hands."

"Oh! Yuck!"

"Yeah. They killed and ate a couple of Lucifer's family members and when they did the gloves came off."

"What happened?"

"Lucifer waited for night, went out and ripped a whole bunch of peasants to pieces" said George.

"Eww" I said.

"Yeah, eww. But you asked about the Werewolf story origin and it began the very same night. You see, he waited for a full moon, left his castle and killed all of the peasants."

"Why'd he wait for a full moon?"

"We can see better than Humans but we don't have night vision. A little moonlight gives us an advantage, though, because a crowd can't attack a lone figure at night, not when he can hide in the shadows. So he slipped out and started his revenge killing which he probably went a little overboard on I readily admit but, remember, the peasants had eaten some of his family so you can forgive him for doing what he did."

"He ate them?"

"No, he tore their throats, stomachs and entrails out" George answered.

"Oh."

"That's where the origins came from; a bunch of wealthy Humans saw the opportunity to gain at the unfortunate expense of some starving peasants on the Satan property."

"So Vampires sucking blood comes from...?"

"Isabella Satan draining her peasants in anticipation of her upcoming pregnancy" finished Vivian.

"And Werewolves coming out during the full moon...?"

"A calculated move to give an extraordinary individual the advantage over an ordinary mob" said George.

"But why a wolf?"

"You know of any other creature associated with the moon who tears the throats out of its victims?" asked George.

"But what does this have to do with the stock market?"

"It's the beginnings of our understanding we needed to keep a low profile if we were to survive among Humans, Sweetie" said Vivian.

"So, did the wealthy Humans get the Satan lands?"

"Oh, no."

"Why not?"

"Remember our advanced immune system?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Well, we're immune from disease too."

"So?"

"We let loose the Plague, Sweetie."

"You let loose the Plague?"

"Uh-huh. The wealthy Humans were going to keep riling up the peasants unless the Satan did something about it so Isabella had her sister release the Plague."

"Her sister?"

"Uh-huh, Stephanie."

"Hold on! Your Stephanie? The Matriarch?"

"Yep. Our own little hibernating baby-maker."

"But... Oh my God, how old is she?"

"Old enough."

"Okay, just a second here. I thought Vampires could only get pregnant once?"

"True"

"Then...?"

"Stephanie is the twin Vampire of Isabella Satan."

"And she let loose the plague."

"Uh-huh."

"She could do that?"

"Uh-huh, Stephanie's pretty powerful."

"It takes a powerful Vampire to release the plague?"

"It takes a powerful Vamp to resist releasing it, Johnny. It's quite a remarkable weapon after all."

"But didn't it kill half the people on the planet?"

"No, just half the people in Europe, the rest of the planet was unaffected."

"But that's horrible."

"Why?"

"Why? Did you just ask me why killing innocent people is horrible?"

"Oh, Sweetie, this was the Middle Ages, no one was innocent."

"Really?"

"Yeah, back then people were killing each other all the time for no real reason whatsoever. You wanted land? Kill the landowner. You wanted someone's wife? Kill the husband. It didn't matter because the people in power were the most corrupt Humans in the land."

"You make it sound like a terrible time."

"Oh, it was terrible for the peasants but it was downright paradise for the wealthy. If you had access to resources you could do virtually anything without regard for anyone's well-being because there was no concept of well-being or human rights as they have today."

"Really? What did they believe in?"

"They believed in their inherent superiority, at least the wealthy did; the poor just believed in eating, sleeping, toiling, and dying."

"That's awful."

"Only to the peasants."

"So the Satan let loose the Plague."

"Yes, and everyone forgot all about their jealousy of the rich because the Plague doesn't discriminate, it kills everyone."

"And this got the Satan off the hook?"

"For the time being, yes. But everyone could see we had a problem which needed solving."

"You needed to go underground."

"Exactly, Sweetie, you're just so smart. We realized we could no longer go about doing things the way it'd been done before because the population was beginning to suspect we might exist and were becoming afraid."

"And that was a problem because...?"

"Because fear is a two edged sword, it can cause obedience or its opposite, revolution. Humans are quite unpredictable when scared; they can acquiesce, they can secretly plot your undoing, they can outwardly balk... my goodness, they can do all those things at the same time and it becomes quite confusing for us because we don't have a reference for their feelings."

"Because you don't know fear?"

"Uh-huh, I love teaching you because you grasp things so fast. Yes, we don't feel fear so we don't know what a person who does feel it is likely to do. Now, fear does tend to work in our favor most of the time but it only takes once for a Catastrophe to happen."

"A Catastrophe?"

"Yes, the death of a Vampire."

"Not a Werewolf?"

"No, Werewolves are replaceable, Vampires are not."

"Why?"

"A Werewolf can't make others, Johnny" George interrupted.

"Huh? But I thought Werewolves and Vampires were mates."

"They are but, well, look at it this way. If there were ten Vampires and one Werewolf it would be possible to sire ten Superiors but if there were only one Vampire and ten Werewolves? Well, let's just say after the bloodshed there'd be a lot less Werewolves and still only one possible birth."

"So Vampires are more important than Werewolves?"

"Oh yeah, Vampires are much more valued than we are. I guess it would be the same for Humans if they could only sire one time" George said.

"Hey, guys?"

"Yes, Phillip?" responded George.

"Could you could finish the conversation on the road? Bob and Steve are beginning to molt."

Chapter 12

The ride back to my apartment was relatively smooth considering we carried two previously dead salesmen in the bed of the pickup, two Werewolves in front, two Vampires in back and me, gleefully in the middle of the luscious ladies. I say 'relatively' because of something I asked.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Earlier on the boat you said something about there not being anyone like me for a long time, remember?"

"Yes."

"What did you mean?"

"I meant you're unique. As far as we know there's only been one of your kind in all of history."

"One of my kind?"

"Yes" the gorgeous red-head responded.

"What kind is one of my kind?"

"The Cloaking kind."

"I'm lost."

"Well, it's a long story but I'll try and explain it the best I can. You see, it happened before the Middle Ages. We were bloodletting during our hibernation and began experimenting with using Human's for the process when we had a little problem."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"Did you say you used Humans for hibernation?"

"We use their blood, yes."

"I thought you only needed Human blood during your pregnancies?"

"True."

"Then... Oh!"

"We don't really like to spend the time bleeding ourselves so we let the Humans do it because they don't heal quick and it's a lot more practical."

"But...?"

"But what?"

"Um... never mind."

"Okay, so during one of our pregnancies a problem occurred."

"What problem?"

"A problem with a pair of twin Wolves."

"Twins?"

"Yes."

"Weren't Stephanie and Isabella also twins?"

"Yes."

"What's with the twin thing?"

"It's our normal breeding process."

"Huh?"

"We usually give birth to multiple litters."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's probably a natural evolutionary process since we only give birth one time."

"Huh?"

"If we didn't sire multiple children we wouldn't survive very long as a species."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense; so what happened with the pair of twins."

"Johnny, do you know what twins are?"

"Copies of each other."

"Yes and no. Twins is merely the term used when two embryos are growing inside a mother. Now, those twins can come about from one of two ways; either the mother produces two eggs which are both fertilized by the father or one egg is fertilized which then splits in two. It's the last kind which is actually a twin because it has the exact same genetic makeup as the other egg. The first kind, where the mother produces two separate eggs, is not technically a twin because the genetic makeup of the eggs is different. "

"Okay."

"You're that kind."

"What kind?"

"The second kind of twin."

"I'm a what?"

"You're a twin."

"I'm a twin?"

"Yes, and an exceptional one."

"I have a brother?"

"Yes."

"Holy Mackerel, I never would've guessed."

"You're an orphan aren't you?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"Because if you weren't, you wouldn't exist."

"Huh?"

"You're forbidden to exist."

"Forbidden by whom?"

"The Superior Council."

"Who's the Superior Council?"

"The leaders of the three Clans. The highest authority we Vampires and Werewolves submit to; actually the only authority we submit to."

"Why would they forbid me to exist?"

"Because you're the reason they exist."

"You're losing me here."

"Sorry, okay back to where we started. Early on, one of the Vampires gave birth to twin Wolves which wasn't unusual except for the fact one was so much larger than the other it was remarkable the little guy survived."

"Why?"

"Because while in the womb Wolf-pups are even more savage than outside. When a Vampire has multiple Wolf embryos they'll fight for the nutrients of the mother. Now, normally the Wolf pups are of relative size and health so the litter is born without one Wolf necessarily any better off than the others but sometimes one embryo is a bit smaller than the others and it generally doesn't survive the process."

"Huh?"

"There have been afterbirths where the born-dead baby Wolf has been found with its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Man, you people have amazingly bad social skills."

"Yes, we do. So anyway, the Vampire in question gave birth to two Werewolves who looked absolutely nothing alike. One was a large child with an immediately domineering attitude while the other was small and docile. It looked as though the smaller one would eventually die if left alone with the larger infant because the larger one was so much more aggressive."

"Baby Werewolves are aggressive?"

"Very much so."

"How aggressive?"

"They attack on sight."

"Attack what?"

"Everything. A baby Werewolf will attack anything and everything they encounter without regard for their welfare or the possible outcome."

"Mean little suckers."

"Yes, they're born without fear and are genetically perfect so they are, in essence, little killing machines."

"Are they any good at it?"

"No, they don't get good at killing until they grow teeth."

"Oh."

"So, Yin and Yang were separated..."

"Excuse me? I don't mean to cut in but..."

"But what?"

"Yin and Yang? Seriously?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because Yin and Yang are like, Asian action figures or something. I thought they just meant the opposite of the other?"

"They do. Yin and Yang were the complete opposite of the other which is precisely where I'm going with this story."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'll shut up now."

"It's not a problem. Yin and Yang were brought up in isolation because everyone believed Yin would kill Yang if they were left together. Now, we usually begin introducing young Werewolves to others of their kind around the age of four but were reluctant to do so with Yang because he'd shown no abilities to ward off even the smallest Werewolf at the time; but we felt it was necessary to see if he was going to survive, so we did, and were astonished at what we saw."

"What did you see?"

"Yin did not kill Yang, they even got along together. Now, this was unheard of and we probably would've ruled it an improbability until something else happened."

"What?"

"Okay, now remember, this was a long time ago before cribs and crayons and other things which keep toddlers occupied. So, on the first day of Confrontation little Yin and Yang were brought to the cave and placed in the pit one at a time. Yin was thrown in first and he began doing exactly what we thought he'd do; squaring off with the first Werewolf he encountered and those two went at it like little baby Werewolves do, scratching and biting and all that other stuff. The attendants were pleasantly surprised but not shocked because even though they had a feeling Yin was going to make a fine and upstanding Werewolf it's still possible for disappointment; anyway, he did fine and fought like a tiger. Now, when it was time to toss Yang into the pit there was a bit of apprehension because he really was a lot smaller than the other Wolves; but they threw him in because if he couldn't take care of himself with a bunch of baby Wolves what chance would he have with an adult pack? It was then the world of Vampires and Werewolves changed forever" Trudy said.

"What happened?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Huh?"

"Absolutely nothing. The attendants threw Yang into the pit and not one Wolf attacked him, not one, and the other baby Wolves even quit fighting each other."

"That's a good thing isn't it?"

"No, it's not, at least not for Werewolves it isn't. Werewolves need a hierarchy, without it they would go about killing everything in the world, maybe even Vampires if they decided they no longer wished to mate with us. Remember, they're much stronger than us and infinitely more aggressive, it's what makes them so cute" the beautiful red-head said while glancing at Phillip in the front seat who could've been made of stone for all the attention he was paying us.

"And their hierarchy begins in childhood?"

"Yes, more specifically in the pit of the Confrontation Cave where they first begin to understand which of them is going to grow into the strongest. Now, it was pretty obvious to everyone who'd seen Yin he was definitely going to be an Alpha male because he was the largest baby Wolf anyone could ever remember seeing; but Yang, well, the opinion on him was he wouldn't live to see five."

"That's horrible."

"Why?"

"Because it's horrible. It's like some sort of deranged baby cock-fight."

"No, it's not, because the babies are too young to actually do any real damage. Remember, we heal at an advanced rate so there's no real danger to the baby Wolves; except in this particular case."

"I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"I knew poor little Yang was going to get killed. He dies doesn't he? That mean old baby Yin kills him, doesn't he?"

"No, Yin did not kill Yang."

"Thank God."

"He killed the other baby Wolves."

"What?"

"The attendants were mystified as to why the baby Wolves weren't fighting so one of them was sent off to get a Clan Elder and then the other got a little distracted by a handsome Wolf who'd taken a liking to her, she turned her back on the little batch of kiddies and when she turned around..."

"When she turned around...?"

"When she turned around Yin was finishing up with the last of the baby Wolves."

"Finishing up?"

"Tearing the final head off."

"Oh my God!"

"Yes, it was an incredible scene. Four decapitated baby Werewolves lying around in the Pit of Confrontation with Yin stalking around like he wanted more and Yang just sitting there on his cute little tushy acting like nothing happened."

"That's... that's..."

"What?"

"You know, I don't really have a good word for it so never mind."

"Okay, so after the incident the Elders decided they needed to find out exactly what transpired so they set up another round of Confrontation except this time they used some older Werewolves because Yin had already gone through those of his own age; except they put Yang into the pit first this time."

"Oh no."

"It's not what you think. When Yang was put onto the pit the young Werewolves quit fighting right away, well, not right away exactly; they were still fighting but they seemed to lose their enthusiasm and just went about punching and kicking and other sorts of nonsense. But when they threw Yin into the arena things got even spookier."

"Spookier?"

"Yes, spookier. It seemed whenever Yin and Yang were placed together in the Pit of Confrontation the other Werewolves would become tolerant of one another."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Probably not, but it was a spooky thing and quite unheard of at the time and, to be honest, unheard of ever since."

"So what happened?"

"Well, this is where it got a little, morose, for lack of a better term. One of the Elders, we don't know which, suggested maybe the Wolves weren't fighting because they were being observed so they all got up, left the cave for a few minutes and returned to find every Wolf accounted for except two were without heads."

"I'm assuming Yin and Yang were not those two."

"You assume correctly; Yin and Yang were fine, as were the other three Werewolves standing in the Pit. Now the Elders were fascinated and wanted to know how it was possible for two young Wolves to behead two older ones so they set up a makeshift spying hole where another elder who hadn't been present before would hide while the others would once again leave. The other Elder was called in, they left, and returned to find only Yin and Yang with their heads attached."

"I can't believe you're telling me this."

"Why?"

"It's not putting you in the best light."

"Why?"

"Why? Oh I don't know, maybe because you're leaving defenseless children in a pit with known mass murderers?"

"They weren't defenseless, they had the same opportunities and weapons as Yin and Yang; namely their hands, feet and teeth. And we don't actually have a word for murder."

"You don't have a word for murder?"

"No, the closest we get is opportunistic."

"Okay, a bit barbaric but okay. So what did the spying Elder see?"

"That was the fascinating thing. When the other Elders left, Yin and Yang immediately began moving toward each other and then turned their attention to one of the Werewolves on the perimeter of the group. They slowly and methodically moved around until Yang was in front of the youth while Yin took up a position behind him and then..."

"And then?"

"Yin ripped his head off."

"Oh my God!"

"Yeah, pretty cool huh? But that's not what the most amazing thing was."

"Trudy, that is not 'pretty cool' but please go ahead and tell me what was so amazing."

"The other Werewolves."

"What about the other Werewolves?"

"After their initial reaction of shock and then preparation for self-defense they relaxed and became tolerant of Yin and Yang again."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean, after a short period of time the other Werewolves let their guard down and Yin and Yang went about doing the exact same thing, one at a time, with Yang walking up in front of a lone Werewolf and Yin sneaking up from behind and ripping his head off."

"You can't be serious."

"I am serious. Why do you keep asking?"

"Because I keep expecting you to tell me you're joking."

"Nope, I'm not joking."

"Wow! So Yin and Yang were some sort of tag-team assassination duo?"

"Uh-huh, but the really weird part was the relationship between the two."

"Really? The weird part was their relationship, not the premeditated murder?"

"No, the premeditated opportunities were just what Werewolves are designed to do. You can't blame them for using the gifts they were born with but their relationship towards each other was what baffled us for ages."

"Okay, what was it about their relationship which baffled you?"

"Yang was in charge."

Chapter 13

Anyone who 's ever lived in Dallas will tell you there are two things by far the most memorable; the restaurants and the heat. Other parts of the country have their own flavor of the culinary delights they specialize in and I'm not about to disparage the wonderful Cajun spices of Louisiana or the bountiful seafood available on the upper east coast but for overall greatness one only has to visit Big D to enjoy the most mouth-watering meals this great Earth has to offer. Why, you ask, is Dallas such a great place for dining?

LOTS OF COWS?

Because no other place has incorporated another country's cooking into their own recipes' and made them unique. Texas has Tex-Mex food and it's quite possibly the tastiest food there is. Meat, cheese, sauce and bread (tortillas if you want to get technical) are the mainstays for the Tex-Mex diet with rice and beans thrown in for gastric pleasure. Okay, I know not everyone agrees Tex-Mex food is greater than sliced bread but I should point out we don't necessarily need sliced bread so the analogy is moot.

MOOT?

It means irrelevant, and the only reason I can think of for people choosing other foods over Tex-Mex is sometimes it can run to the spicy side of life. This isn't because the chefs are trying to destroy one's taste-buds, no, they are merely enhancing the flavor of the wonderfully quenching sweet-tea which has evolved alongside the great southern dish. But some people can't seem to handle the exotic heat coming from the kitchen, which is perfectly alright, but if they think the food's hot then they've really got a surprise coming when they encounter the outside temperature. Any time of day during six months of the year Texas is mind-blowingly hot; so hot the soles of shoes have been known to melt on sidewalks. This heat phenomenon is not unexpected to the great people of the Lone Star State, no, they have learned to adapt and overcome. You need to go to the store?

UM, NO?

Turn the truck on, crank the air-conditioner up and wait in the comfort of your living room until the vehicle cools down enough for life to survive. You need to go to the supermarket for food?

NO, WHY DO YOU KEEP ASKING?

Buy only enough to fit in the cab of the truck, a cab previously air-conditioned, never the bed of the truck. Why?

I HAVE NO IDEA.

Because...

"Oh my God, they're cooking!" Phillip yelled.

"Crap! Get them out of there!"

"Alright, who didn't see this one coming?"

Yep. We'd covered old Bob and Steve What's-his-name with a tarp and sat them against the cab in the bed of the pickup but we forgot one small detail; metal conducts heat and we put nothing under the former salesmen.

"I thought they'd be okay. They just got off the bottom of the lake for crying out loud!"

"Dang it!"

"What?"

"His leg's stuck. We need a spatula or something."

"Johnny, do you have a spatula?"

"No, sorry."

"How can you not have a spatula?"

"I don't know, Phillip. I just don't have one, okay"

"Well, okay, it's kind of weird though. How do you cook hamburgers?"

"Like everyone else in the civilized world; I give people money to do it for me."

"Yeah? Which one's your favorite?"

"Well, I'm kind of partial to the double meat cheeseburger at..."

"Boys!" Trudy said.

"Yes, Mistress" we both responded.

"Rip them out of there and get them upstairs!"

"Yes, Mistress."

Texas heat does have its advantages though, one of them being a complete lack of people outside during the hottest parts of the day which is why no one saw us lugging Bob and Steve What's-his-name up three flights of stairs to the blissfully cool apartment of mine. It was cool because I was going missing so why would I turn off the air-conditioner?

GOOD POINT.

Thanks.

"Sit them on the couch" I said.

"Where's the couch,?" replied George who had Bob over his right shoulder.

"Right there next to the window" I responded.

"What, you mean the pile of clothes there?"

"The couch is under the clothes, George."

"Oh, man, you really need a maid."

"I can't afford laundry detergent; what makes you think I could hire a maid?"

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Phillip?"

"Do you have any towels around?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Because Stevie-boy here is leaking on your floor."

I rounded up some towels, tossed my wardrobe back on the floor where it belonged and we sat Bob and Steve on the couch.

"Are they going to do something?" I asked.

"Not right away. They'll need a little help before they give up what they know" said George.

"What do they know?"

"We'll know after they tell us" he replied.

"Oh."

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Vivian?"

"Why do you have a Victoria's Secret catalogue?"

"Okay, everybody out. I need about fifteen minutes to clean up around here and I don't want you around while I do it, okay?"

"Okay, but I don't understand why you'd have a woman's undergarment magazine around? Oh, were you thinking of buying something for a certain someone in your life?" the cute little blond blood-sucker asked.

"Yes, Vivian, that's exactly what I was going to do. Now, you four get along and grab some lunch while I get to tidying up."

"Okay, everybody, let's give Johnny a little privacy. We need to run down to the pharmacy anyway and I think we could all use a little nourishment" said George.

The four of them left and I began my wild tornado clean-up which consisted of throwing everything not bolted down into one closet or another. Everything in the refrigerator I tossed in the garbage and I had the place looking pretty spiffy if I do say so myself; except for the bathroom which I had never previously cleaned and, apparently, needed some sort of chiseling machine to remove the residue from the shower tiles and toilet bowl. How can water, the cleanest stuff on earth, possibly leave behind something impossible to remove?

IT DOES SEEM ODD.

Yes, it does.

I was working on the countertops of the kitchen when I glanced up and noticed my two previously living co-workers watching me from their perch on my previously un-slimed couch.

"Hey guys, how you holding up?"

No response...

"What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"

... then a crawfish emerged from Bob's mouth.

I was awakened to the beautiful face of Trudy standing over me with a worried expression gently asking if I was alright.

"Yeah, I'm alright, it's just that I saw..."

And I was immediately on my feet because there was no way I was letting one of those nasty little lake-dwelling, tongue-eating crustaceans anywhere near my prone body. The thought of the freaky looking crab-cake having the opportunity to take a pinch out of me with his one-inch claws still gives me the creeps.

"Hey, Johnny, we brought you a double-meat cheeseburger; you hungry?" asked Phillip.

Surprisingly and unequivocally, yes.

"What did you get at the pharmacy?" I asked after wolfing down the burger in record time.

"A syringe and some other stuff" replied George.

"A syringe? They sell those?"

"No."

"Then how did you...?"

And both Vampires disappeared into thin air except for their clothes which were still there, standing upright without a body to be seen.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot the whole vanishing thing. Hey, I bet it comes in real handy when you want anything at one of those boutiques, you know?"

They were looking at me strangely.

"You know; just walk on in to one of those high-priced clothing stores and..."

They were still looking at me strangely.

"What?"

"That's stealing" said Vivian.

"Well, yeah but, I mean, it's not like they don't rip off their own customers; you know? Come on! A four hundred dollar handbag? How's that not ripping off your customers? Am I right? Huh? Come on, Phillip, a little help please."

"That's stealing" he replied.

"Oh, okay, you too. So I guess it's okay to use people as some kind of pregnant feeding tube but you draw the line at stealing from a bunch of rich designers who employ malnourished children from third-world countries to make stilettos, huh?"

"It's not the same" said Trudy.

"You're dang tooting it's not; stealing is much kinder."

"No, that's not what I mean" she said.

"Oh? What did you mean?"

"Stealing is taking from someone, something they would not otherwise give freely."

"Yeah, so?"

"The people we use to feed our pregnant Vampires willingly do so."

"They what?"

"They willingly give themselves up."

Have you ever gotten yourself into an argument you really wanted to get out of?

WHENEVER I TALK TO YOU.

Shut up. You know you're beat but can't seem to find the way to admit defeat and give in. Now, my guess is we really didn't want to be in the argument in the first place. Maybe we were just adding to the conversation or we thought the other person was joking and we'd say something absurd to make the joke even funnier only to find the other person was dead serious and had the facts to back up their point of view.

"What do you mean, Trudy?"

"The Humans we use today are willing participants in the blood giving process."

"Why would they willingly give their blood?" I asked.

"Because most of them have nothing left to live for" she replied.

Most arguments, I believe, are merely mental battling devices used to determine if you can string together enough coherent statements as to make your side at least appear intelligent. It doesn't matter if you actually believe in what you're arguing for, it's only the appearance of having thought out the process and having a good answer to support whatever side you happened to have chosen. Why do I believe this?

BECAUSE YOU'RE EXTREMELY CYNICAL.

Because an argument can only occur if there's more than one possible answer to a question. No rational person is going to argue sand tastes good. Now, we both know you've met people who'll argue the sun doesn't really exist or there's a justification in the hunting of whales but these people are just argue-addicts. They'll pick the other side of an argument out of pure habit probably before their brains even realize what the subject matter is merely because they like to hear themselves talk and they're usually good at it. Very, very frustrating people.

"They have nothing to live for?" I asked.

"Most of them don't" she answered.

"What does that mean?"

"It means most of them have terminal illnesses which have no chance of a cure or remission and they willingly give up their life-blood to help our species deliver our prodigy."

"Why would they do that?"

"Some of them are in pain, some of them feel like a burden to their children and some of them wish to receive what we have to offer."

"What do you have to offer?"

"A second chance" she said.

"A second chance?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to make me pull this out of you one question at a time, Trudy?"

"No, sorry, sometimes I forget you don't know who you are."

I chose not to respond to that cryptic sentence and instead waited for her to explain how in the world getting your blood sucked out of you to help a Vampire's embryo cope with her oversensitive immune system would, in any way, lead to a second chance.

"Johnny, the blood the Humans give allows the unborn child to grow without needing to fight the Vampire's immune system which views the child as an invader. We readily admit we previously took Humans unwillingly and used them for sustenance and we're sorry, well, as sorry as we can be for using another organism to provide life for our next generation. Anyway, that was in the past and now we use willing subjects and in return we give them a taste of our blood."

"A taste of your blood?"

"Yes, after the transfusion the Humans are afforded the opportunity to receive some of the pregnant Vampire's blood in exchange for providing their own. It's a win-win opportunity, something which very rarely happens in a person's lifetime and we're almost never rebuked with the offer."

"What does Vampire blood do to Humans?"

"It allows them to hold off death for as long as the blood is viable. It eliminates all pain and suffering while it's in circulation. It is, in fact, a second and last chance to do anything they wish and are physically capable of before the blood runs its course."

"How the heck does it do that?"

"Well, death and life, pain and pleasure are all ruled at the molecular level. Cancer is a mutated cell unable to perform it's necessary function. Heart disease is the result of damaged cells unable to contract and therefore unable to deliver the blood necessary for the survival of the other cells down the circulatory line. Vampire blood consists of cells and antibodies which stop any more growth and spread of the damaged or mutated cells."

"So what, they heal the people?"

"No, they put the process of death or misery on hold."

"For how long?"

"For as long as the Vampire blood remains in their circulation."

"So they could technically stay alive forever?"

"Well, forever's an impossibility, eventually the carbon you're made with will decay but for the sake of argument, yes, they could technically stay alive for a very, very long time."

"What's the longest anyone's ever stayed alive?"

"That's what we're here to find out."

"Huh?"

"Bob and Steve. If you've known them for three months then they're definitely in the running for the longest surviving Zombies on record."

The advance of medical science may very well be perceived as this generation's greatest accomplishment if the information revolution doesn't win instead. For as long as people have been around they've been looking for ways to do two things; stay alive and pain free. The medical revolution brought about these two desired resolutions and it changed the very fabric of society but not always in ways viewed as beneficial. It's true people live much longer and can be kept relatively pain-free but there's a catch; someone has to pay for it. It'd be nice if the medical sciences were abstract, cut off as it were from the other motivating factors which propel societies but, unfortunately, it's not so. Medical science relies on the same thing all the occupations in the civilized world rely upon; money. Now, in a utopian society I'm sure there'd be plenty of people ready and willing to spend their entire lives looking for ways to benefit the medical community for a pittance and some of these angelic souls even exist today in the commercialized world but there are nowhere near enough of them to accomplish what the carrot did for the advancement of medicine in our generation. The carrot was money. The donkey chasing the carrot was scientists and doctors. The recipient of what the donkey carried was society as a whole. What the donkey carried was life prolonging, pain-eradicating drugs and surgical procedures the people have been clamoring for since they first learned a toothache is one of the most miserable experiences a person can go through and people, no matter what they say, really do want one more day.

"What are you doing with that needle, George?"

"Getting blood."

"Why are you...? Vivian, what are you doing?"

"Rolling up my blouse sleeve."

"Why are you...? Oh crap!"

Fainting at the sight of blood is a misnomer in my case. I have no problem with the sight of blood; it's when it's sucked out of a person's arm using a needle where I have a problem. I think I'd make a horrible drug addict.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"Are you okay?"

"Is George still sucking blood from Vivian?"

"No, he's done."

"Then I'm okay" I said standing up and...

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"Are you okay?"

"Is George still injecting Bob with Vivian's blood?"

"No, he's done."

"Then I'm... hold on... is anyone getting any blood sucked or injected?"

"Oh, well, you might want to wait one more second then."

"Thank you, Trudy."

"You're welcome, Johnny."

Chapter 14

All disease is curable because, by definition, disease is the absence of ease which is the preferred state of being for all living creatures. Medical science may not have found the cure for a wide ranging group of ailments but it doesn't mean they cannot be remedied. Sometimes things are described as diseases when they are not. One good example of this are the two dimensions of Diabetes. People with Type 1 Diabetes are born with it and don't actually have the disease of Diabetes, they are Diabetics. Other people develop Diabetes, usually through overeating, and they do have the disease because their bodies previously experienced life without it.

"How long do we wait?"

"Not long."

Diabetes is a horrible ailment afflicting a vast number of people and the saddest part is most brought the condition upon themselves. They didn't mean to and I'm not about to suggest they deserve what they got because what they got was a life-killing, joy-sucking, time-wasting, painful needle-injecting problem which medical science hasn't been able to solve. Diabetes is the term used when someone's muscles cannot access their blood-sugar properly. Muscle is the engine of the body and blood-sugar is the gas; both are useless without the other. There are many theories as to why the access problem exists but there is only one medical solution; injection of insulin.

"They appear to be more animated."

"Yeah, it shouldn't take much longer now."

Insulin is the gas truck which delivers its cargo, blood-sugar, to the gas station which, in this case, is the muscle. Once there the gas-truck driver must have a hose with a nozzle which fits perfectly into the receptacle of the underground gas tank. If he doesn't have the hose and nozzle he can't deliver his blood-sugar or, and this is much more likely, the receptacle on the underground gas tank, the muscle, is difficult to access because of overuse or faulty maintenance or any other man-made problem.

"Okay, girls, it's time to leave the room" George said as he picked up the sack he'd brought from the pharmacy.

"Why? They're not going to care" responded Vivian.

"It's not appropriate, Mistress" he replied.

"I cannot believe you're making us leave" she said.

"Out, Mistress" he ordered.

If the receptacle on the muscle is troubling to access then the driver has one of two options; he can drive around the block and hope someone else has better luck or he can crank his clamp down on the receptacle so hard it will work for him but might be harder to access in the future.

"Help me put these on them, Johnny"

"What? You've to be kidding, George."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Truck drivers deliver cargo for a living. They don't get paid to haul the cargo around; they get paid to deliver. Once they've delivered their cargo, though, they have a dilemma; one very large container with nothing in it and a very expensive vehicle to operate. Smart cargo drivers make sure at their delivery drop-off spot there is something which needs to be hauled away, usually waste from another underground container, so they load up their cargo container with the waste and deliver it to the waste site.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

"You'll be happier you did, trust me."

"Fine, I trust you, I just wish he'd quit staring at me while I'm doing it."

Once at the waste disposal site the cargo driver does what cargo drivers must do if they're to maintain the integrity of the cargo container they're entrusted with.

"There she blows!"

"I bet they feel a whole lot better."

"I'm going to need a new couch."

The delivery of nutrients is but one of the two functions of the circulatory system; the other is the removal of waste. Both are needed for the survival of each and every cell of higher forms of life and if there is a problem with one there will be a corresponding problem with the other. For people with severe Diabetes, they cannot deliver the necessary blood-sugar to the working muscles. The sugar is then transported to the kidneys for removal but the kidneys weren't built for that; they were built to remove waste, waste from muscles which used blood-sugar to do their job, so the kidneys eventually fail. Once they fail people need dialysis; a process by which their blood is removed, cleansed and returned to them by a machine.

"Okay, let the girls back in."

"Shouldn't we put their pants back on."

"No, we'll need to change their diapers again pretty soon."

Bob and Steve looked like a pair of undersized Sumo wrestlers with sports coats, ties, white shirts, diapers and spittle running down their chins; not exactly what I'd have considered optimal informants but, then again, I'd never actually been on the questioning side of an interrogation. I was on the answering side of an interrogation once and it went something like this.

"Where were you at noon?"

"In class."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"The class."

"Why was your car seen leaving a gas station without paying for the gas?"

"Because it was thirsty?"

"Don't be a smart Aleck ."

Who was Aleck and how annoying was he whereby people would coin a phrase demeaning his intelligence?

HOW WOULD I KNOW?

The car in question was indeed my vehicle and I have no doubt my friends did fill it up and drive away without paying for the gas but I had no proof and they denied it so there I was sweating out an interrogation from an otherwise kind officer who, I'm sure, had about a thousand things more important to do than chase after a bunch of hooligans who pilfered seventeen dollars of gas from a convenience store more than willing to overlook the whole 'proof of identification' thing when selling cigarettes to underage, wanna-be tough guys.

"Are they going to talk?"

"If they still retain the ability, yes" answered George.

"How do you know if they have the ability?"

"I'm going to ask them."

"Oh."

"What did you think I was going to do?"

"Oh, I figured you were going to ask them, I was just curious is all."

Of course I didn't think he was just going to ask them. I thought I was about to witness a real-time torture session involving Werewolves, Vampires and Zombies all within the comforts of my living room. It was going to be like some macabre movie experience where the bad guys get what's coming to them by a hero who's had just about enough of the good-guy stuff and decides to do what really works; the bad-guy stuff.

I LOVE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS.

Everyone does.

"What's your name?" George asked.

"Bob... Simpson."

"Who do you work for?"

"Indust... Industri..."

"Say that again."

"Industrial... Products..."

I've heard many times torture doesn't work but I'm skeptical about the claim because of one very obvious reason; if you threaten me with torture I'll give up my information faster than you can get whatever device you're thinking of using on me.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"This is going to take a while isn't it?"

"Yes, probably quite a while."

"Could you do me a favor then?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Well, earlier you said I don't know who I am, could you explain that for me?"

"Sure. Let's see. Oh, yeah, do you remember when we were talking about Yin and Yang?"

"The sadistic little beheading baby Werewolves?"

"Yes, those two. Well, you're kind of a modern day Yang."

"I'm a modern day baby Werewolf?"

"No, and technically neither was Yang."

"What was he."

"He was everything Yin wasn't."

"That's a pretty wide and vague description."

"I know, I'm trying to think of a good way to put this so please forgive me if I insult you, I truly don't mean to."

"Okay."

"You're a Supplicant."

"A Supplicant?"

"Yes, I'm sorry if it hurts your feelings but I can't think of another..."

"Trudy?"

"Yes?"

"I have absolutely no idea what a Supplicant is so my feelings are perfectly fine."

"Oh, good, I don't think I could stand it if I hurt..."

"Trudy?"

"Yes?"

"What's a Supplicant?"

"The other half of a Superior."

"A Supplicant is the other half of a Superior?"

"Yes."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Okay, it goes like this. When a Vampire has a litter it's generally because she's produced more than one egg so she births more than one prodigy but sometimes it's because one or more of her eggs actually divide but the result is the same; multiple births. Now, either way the number of actual live children depends upon the health of the fetuses; if all are healthy then all will be born but if one or more are unhealthy then the remaining fetus' will deny the unhealthy ones the nutrients to survive. Got it so far?"

"Yep, survival of the fittest at the embryo-age."

"Yes, exactly, the strongest and healthiest survive. Now, this has been the rule in every case with the exception of one, or two, if you are what we think you are."

"A Supplicant?"

"Yes. One half a pair of twins who were unequal when it came to health. Namely, one was strong while the other was not."

"Okay, I'm a weak twin, so what?"

"So, you should've perished, Johnny, your twin embryo should've eliminated you."

"Great, now I'm not only weak but have a stronger brother who's wanted to kill me before I was born."

"He didn't want to, Johnny, he was compelled to."

"Fine, either way I die. So why am I still alive? Do I have an incompetent murdering sibling?"

"No, you were able to do what only one other has been reported to have done."

"What was that?"

"You hid."

"I hid? What, in the womb?"

"Yes, when you were an embryo you did what was required in order to survive and became hidden in a way as to be undetected by the Superior embryo. At this time we believe you became the Supplicant embryo allowing the Superior anything it desired in order to escape it's notice. As you developed a sort of symbiotic relationship also arose between you, the Supplicant, and your twin, the Superior. He no longer viewed you as a threat to his survival and a truce was struck whereby you were afforded the gift of life at the expense of perfection."

"So my twin is..."

"Perfect."

"And I'm...?"

"Not."

Some people are born with intrinsic value society has deemed worthy of admiration. These people are found in all forms of occupations ranging from Medicine to Mathematics to the Fine Arts. If you have a skill which sets you apart from others you will be afforded the opportunity to acquire wealth, prestige and power others lacking desirable skillsets will not. What you do with your skill is entirely up to you but before you go out there and toot your own horn, remember; society can, at any time, change its mind about whether they value your particular acumen.

"What's your name?"

"Steve..."

"What's your last name?"

"Steve..."

"Who do you work for?"

"Steve..."

"Crap. I think we've got a dead one here" said George.

"Can I try?" asked Phillip.

"Go right ahead" answered George.

Phillip got right up in front of Steve What's-his-name, stared him right in his one remaining eye, and asked in rapid fire...

"What's your name?"

"Steve..."

"What's your last name?"

"Steve..."

"Huh? I guess it just doesn't work. Hey, do you think maybe his last name's Steve?"

"What, you think his name is Steve Steve?" asked George incredulously.

"It's possible" replied Phillip.

"Anything's possible, Phillip, you passing eighth grade math for example."

"Or you getting up after I knock your..."

"Boys!" interjected Vivian.

"Yes, Mistress" they responded.

"Shut up!"

You've got to love a species which allows the physically weaker but emotionally fitter half the right of governance.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What happened to Yin and Yang?"

"Well, they were deemed too dangerous to live together so were brought up in separate enclaves and raised as any other Werewolves which consisted of learning how to hunt, fight and track wild game. Now, this was great for Yin because he was born with the abilities to do those things so he ate up his schooling but for Yang it was probably a horrible experience. He was incapable of bringing down even the smallest of prey and utterly useless at fighting or tracking so he became part of the background, camouflaging himself again in order to not rile any emotions and cause harm to himself. I believe it was during this time he began his planning."

"His planning?"

"Yes, Johnny, Yin and Yang would reunite and the world of Superiors would..."

"Crap!" yelled Phillip.

"What's wrong?" asked Vivian.

"Oh, nothing's wrong, Mistress, it's just Stevie-boy here, well, let's just say what I yelled was more a description than anything else."

"Oh, gross!"

"I'll get the diapers" said Trudy.

"Hold on..." I said and was going to follow with the question 'What in the world of Superiors was going to happen?' when...

"Hello? Anybody home?"

... Nat Hallowed, green Alien Detective, walked into my apartment.

Six-hundred square feet sounds like a large amount of space until you enter the place when it's empty. The first time I saw my apartment it was nothing but white walls, clean kitchen appliances, beautiful beige carpet and it looked like a hamster would get claustrophobic. For some reason putting things inside a small enclosed area actually makes it feel larger. Maybe it's because it gives you a reference to view how tall your walls are or how wide your floor is but, whatever the case, after I put my futon, card table and television in the twelve by twelve foot space allotted for them it actually had the place looking like a domicile. I couldn't invite anyone over, though, because I really only had the one futon and unless she wanted to snuggle on a first date the only other places she could sit were on one of the fold-out chairs or the floor. Now, the floor technically would've been a better viewing location if she wanted to watch television because it's where I dumped the two-foot square juggernaut of plastic, glass and wiring because I had no other furniture to speak of. The spectacular viewing she would've been afforded consisted of the four major networks and an amazing number of Spanish language channels available over the air because even in my delusional state of denial there was still no way I could justify spending any discretionary income on any form of entertainment which didn't involve the words happy hour, two-for-one, or matinee. I'd gotten quite used to my little oasis in the greater Metroplex of Dallas/Fort Worth and didn't see any reason to change my surroundings even justifying it to myself by labeling it minimalist furnishing because of a restaurant I'd heard of which opened under the theme Asian Minimalism. The theme caught my eye because I thought it might've been the most brilliant business plan I'd ever heard of. Not only do you serve extraordinarily small quantities of food at an exorbitant price but you have customers who're already prepared to pay outrageous sums for the tidbits of ort which would need to sustain them until they could sneak away from their significant other in the middle of the night to hit up whichever fast food restaurant was in a three mile area so they could satisfy their bewildered stomachs which had been expecting something larger than a grasshopper and two peas for the price of a used mini-van.

"Johnny, nice place you've got here" the green detective said.

"Thanks" I replied because I didn't know how to read sarcasm on visiting Aliens yet.

DO YOU KNOW NOW?

That, itself, was sarcasm you nitwit.

"Nat!" Vivian exclaimed as she ran the two feet needed to jump in his arms and hug him.

"Hello, Vivian" he replied with a wide smile.

"Hello, Nat" said Trudy.

"Hello, Trudy" he responded as he set Vivian down and went to hug her.

"Uh, Trudy?"

"Yes, Phillip?"

"The diapers?"

"Oh crap."

"Exactly."

I went over to shut the front door the detective had left standing ajar because I'd never been one to waste which I didn't have; in this case money to pay for the air-conditioning bill I'd already subconsciously decided to forget about because I was going missing. It doesn't make any sense now but at the time let me tell you... alright, it didn't make sense then either but I just don't like to see precious resources squandered away and I also didn't think it would be a good thing if one of my neighbors happened to drop by and saw two obviously distressed individuals wearing diapers sitting on my couch being peppered with questions by two seven-foot men while a pair of runway models and a six-foot tall, bug-eyed, green-skinned Alien looked on from my kitchen. The fact neither I nor any of my neighbors had ever once visited the other was beside the point.

NEVER?

Nope. Couldn't have picked them out of a lineup.

"Hello, George."

"Hello, Nat."

"Any luck?"

"Maybe with Bob here, he seems to have retained a little bit of neural ability but the other one...?"

"Brain dead?"

"Yep, the only thing he can say is 'Steve'."

"Steve..." came the automated response from the poor guy on the couch.

"How sad. What're you going to do with him?"

"I don't know? Toss him back in I guess."

"What?" I said from the kitchen area by the front door which was easily audible in the living room where they stood because six-hundred square feet really is nothing more than an oversized closet.

"What?" George looked at me questioningly.

"What did you say you were going to do with Steve?"

"Steve..." said diaper man.

"Put him back in the lake" replied George.

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's just not right."

"Not right? The man's a Zombie."

"So?"

"So, he's dead."

"No he's not, he's sitting right there on the couch talking."

"Talking? All he can say is 'Steve'."

"Steve..." Steve said.

"It's still not right, George, maybe he can make a comeback."

"A comeback? He's only got one eye, Johnny."

"So? Lots of people have only one eye."

"Really? Have you ever met anyone with only one eye?"

"Yes."

Of course I've never met anybody with only one eye. The closest I've ever come to meeting a person with one eye is when I met this lady with a lazy eye and it was a very weird experience. She had one of those eyes which would drift up and to the side as you were talking to her so you tried to ignore the whole thing and concentrate on what she was saying by looking into her one good eye, which was eyeballing you with sincere interest, but she had a weird kind of affliction because while you were looking at the good eye it would start to drift up and away and the other eye, the bad one, would become the good one. You would shift your attention back and forth between whichever eye was eyeballing you at any particular time so it became like watching a tennis match with no end while carrying on a conversation you couldn't follow because you were constantly wondering where to look.

"Well, then, what do you want to do with him?" George asked.

"I don't know, don't you have a Zombie resting home or something?"

"No, we don't have a Zombie resting home" he replied.

"Well you should" I retorted.

"George?" said Vivian.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Let's worry about what to do with Steve later, okay?"

"Steve..." Zombie Steve said.

"Yes Mistress. Hey Nat, did you bring your fingerprinting kit with you?"

"Of course, it's down in my truck. Do you want me to get it?"

"Yes, please."

"No problem. Hey, Johnny, you want to keep me company?"

"Uh... sure" I responded.

We opened the front door to my apartment and I'll be darned if we didn't encounter the rarest of sights in my little part of North Texas; my actual neighbor leaving her apartment the exact same time we were leaving mine. I was caught in the strange area where what your first instinct tells you to do is the exact thing your second instinct tells you not to do. In this case my first instinct was to retreat inside and slam the door shut like I was an introverted hermit but my second instinct told me this would only confuse and possibly scare the poor woman who might then think I was a serial cat-hoarder and either call the police or, worse yet, the apartment manager. So I stood there in a state of un-decidability until I was pushed from behind by the green detective out onto the stairs where my sweet little neighbor lady was looking at me with bewilderment and a smile. I smiled back because I'm not a jerk...

YES YOU ARE.

... and waited for her to shriek in horror at the sight of the invading Martian from Heaven when, to my amazement, she merely smiled wider, nodded her head and proceeded down the three flights of stairs to the parking lot below.

"She didn't...?" I said.

"Nope."

"But... why...?"

"Because she sees me as a regular Joe."

"Huh?"

"I look Human to other Humans."

"Oh? Oh yeah, I guess I should've figured it out on my own, shouldn't I? I mean, you couldn't just walk around looking all green and bug-eyed and not cause a stir could you?"

"Nope."

"How can you do that? I mean, why can I see you one way and others see you different?"

"Because I'm a molecular hologram."

"You're a what?" I asked.

"A molecular hologram" Nat answered.

"What's a molecular hologram?"

"An image projected onto molecules to give it shape and form."

"But you're standing right here."

"No, I'm not, I'm actually on Heaven."

"You're on Heaven?"

"Yes."

"Then what am I talking to right now?"

"Me."

"But I can touch you. How can you be in two places at once?"

"Think of me as an advanced video conferencing device."

"An advanced...? Oh, you mean one of those video phones where you talk and see the other person at the same time?"

"Exactly, only a little more advanced."

"This is incredible!"

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing but don't worry, you'll be doing this pretty soon."

"Really?"

"Sure. It's just a matter of time. You've already got the idea down, all you need is the science to go from video to holographic to molecular holographic."

"So.. um... okay, what can you do?"

"Most of the things my physical form could do if I was there."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh, except die, of course."

"You can't die?"

"My hologram can't die."

"This is totally freaky."

"You'll get used to it. Hey, you think maybe we should move on down the stairs and get my kit from the truck?"

"Oh, yeah, that's probably the right thing to do."

So me and the molecular-holographic, green-skinned, bug-eyed detective went down the three flights of stairs to the parking lot where his tricked-out police truck was parked.

"Hey, Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Can I drive your truck?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I've seen you drive."

"Oh."

Driving has always brought out the worst in people. In the beginning, when only a few could afford cars, it brought out their arrogance and sense of superiority over the poor shmucks still schlepping around on foot or horseback. As vehicles became more common it brought out their pent up aggression and it remains so today. I guess it only makes sense since, quite frankly, the only place where a four-foot five, ninety-pound person can vent their frustration is in a two-ton motorized piece of steel and fiberglass with the horsepower to run down a cheetah and the moxy to spin out on its dead carcass afterward. I, like everyone else, become a different person when I get behind the steering wheel because there, unlike the outside world, I don't have to take responsibility for acting like a maniacal despot demanding everyone respect my wishes and get out of my way. If, for some reason, I do come across someone who takes offense to my road-hogging ways I merely keep on driving because, unless the other person happens to be going to the exact same location at the exact same time, I will never need to answer for my actions; unless, of course, they've got a gun.

"Is that a shotgun?"

"Yep."

Memo to self: Do not tailgate large truck with green-skinned, holographic Alien inside.

"Okay, found it. Let's get back and figure out who those two were" he said, which sounded a little sad considering he used the past tense for the Zombie salesmen.

The idea no two people have the same fingerprint has always been difficult for me to get my head around. Has anyone actually done the research?

I DON'T KNOW?

And what kind of research would it be?

FINGERPRINT RESEARCH.

Would you fingerprint everyone in the world?

YES.

What about the dead people?

OH, YEAH, I GUESS THAT WOULD BE KIND OF DIFFICULT.

Uh-huh, some people might balk at digging up Granny.

We entered the apartment and for some reason the sight of my two fellow salesmen tickled my funny bone. They were sitting on my couch staring straight ahead with their hands folded on their laps, wearing diapers.

"Can we please put some pants on these two?" I asked.

"You can but you're just going to keep pulling them off unless you don't mind them sitting in their own waste" said George.

"Tell me again why they keep peeing and pooping?"

"They were under water for quite some time so their cells didn't get any new blood and they were torn apart so their circulation couldn't get rid of their waste. When we put them back together and gave them Vampire blood their circulation began getting rid of everything which had accumulated. It's going to take them a little time to get rid of all the used energy."

"How exactly did they survive down there?"

"They're Zombies" George replied.

"So?"

"So, they're already dead. The Vampire blood keeping them alive is not like regular Human blood, it isn't being produced by them. It was inserted into them as a stopgap to keep their individual cells alive. Essentially, each cell in their body is working as an independent unit using the energy from the Vampire in order to stay functional. When the Vampire blood runs its course and isn't replaced they'll die for real."

"And how long does Vampire blood work."

"About three weeks if they're whole; three days if they're not."

"Three days?"

"Yes."

I looked at Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with a mixture of sadness and annoyance. I couldn't think of a reason why they ended up as they did but, then again, I didn't really know who they were. I'd only known them for three months and for at least three days of those months they'd been walking around as a bunch of Zombies. I felt somewhat betrayed by the two human jigsaw puzzles.

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? IT WAS YOUR IDEA.

Yeah, but I didn't know it at the time. It was kind of coming back but was still hazy and wouldn't have made any sense if it did.

"Hey, Johnny, you want to give me a hand?"

"Sure, Nat, what do you need?"

"I need you to hold Steve's hand..."

"Steve..." Steve said.

"...so I can fingerprint him"

"Oh, okay" I said and reached down to grab Steve's hand when...

"Ow! He just bit me! Crap, he won't quit! Yaaaagghh!"

"Okay, okay, hold on a minute; let's see if I can just...."

His teeth were latched onto my right hand while the rest of his body was leaning back against my couch but his teeth, now unattached to his gums, were attacking my wrist like some deranged holiday prankster gift.

"... got them!" Nat exclaimed in a victorious way.

"Oh my God! I've been bitten by a Zombie! I've been bitten by a Zombie!" I kept saying as I ran around my apartment in a frenzied way looking for and receiving absolutely no help from the giggling Vampires and Werewolves who stood around doing nothing.

"What are you all laughing about!"

"Oh... sorry, Johnny" Phillip said before laughing again.

The pain had subsided rather quickly and I found myself shaking my wrist not to relieve any discomfort but to remove the spittle the previously living, chemical supply salesman had left behind.

"What's going to happen to me? Oh my God! I'm going to turn into a Zombie aren't I? I'm going to start moaning and trying to eat people's brains, aren't I? Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my..."

"Johnny!" Trudy yelled.

"What?"

"You're not going to turn into a Zombie."

"I'm not?"

"No, you're not."

"Then... then... oh" I remember replying because I had absolutely no reference to rely upon when being told by a Vampire I wasn't going to turn into a Zombie.

"Let me see your hand" said Trudy.

I held my right hand away from my body as far away as I could and waited for the prognosis I was sure was coming; she was wrong and, yes, I was indeed going to turn into a moaning, brain-yearning, walking dead-man.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"You can open your eyes."

"I don't want to."

"Open your eyes."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you are eventually going to need to open your eyes."

I really didn't want to. Separating what I wanted from reality had always been easy for me. I merely closed my eyes and pictured things as they should've been. But the good-looking redhead asked me to, so I did, and was astonished by what I saw.

"There's no bite mark?"

"No, there's not" she replied.

"How's that possible?"

"You've evolved, you're healing powers have advanced."

"This is so cool!"

"Yes, it is."

I stared at my wrist in utter fascination as though seeing it for the first time and probably would've remained so, acting like some lunatic on LSD, if it weren't for something George said.

"Oh, crap!"

I looked over to where he was and saw...

"I pulled his hand off."

... George standing with Steve's hand in his. Well, not his hand exactly, his whole left arm. I would venture a guess, and it's only a guess mind you, Stevie-boy wasn't fully healed from the tearing apart he got from Phillip but it didn't seem to bother him for he was just sitting on my couch without his left arm and teeth, drooling like an English bulldog with my blood running down his chin, wearing diapers.

"That's okay, George, let me just get his index finger while you've got it there... that's it... just roll it around on the ink there..." said Nat.

While George and Nat were doing their detachable hand fingerprinting thing I had a little time to ask Trudy something.

"Trudy?"

"Yes?"

"What's happening to me?"

"You're evolving into what you were meant to be."

"What's that?"

"A Superior."

"I thought I was a Supplicant?"

"You are, but a Supplicant is also a Superior. You've got the genetics of a Werewolf, you're body just suppressed the links in your code to survive in the womb with your twin."

"My code?"

"Your genetic code, everyone is ruled by it."

"How did my code suppress it?"

"Like anything else, it shut off the switch."

"Huh?"

"Every cell in your body carries a genetic code, a blueprint as it were, telling the cell exactly what you are to look like, how tall you are, what color your hair is and all the other mundane stuff which makes you who you are."

"Okay."

"Every cell carries the exact same information as the other cells; it's just a heart cell performs the functions of the part of the code relating only to it. It has the information to be a hair cell, for example, but doesn't use it because it's a heart cell and not a hair cell. Now, within the code are many bridges and pathways which can be opened or closed depending on the individual such as whether someone is born with, let's say, blindness. The eye cell has the information to be a perfectly functioning seeing instrument but somewhere in the code a bridge has been shut off and the necessary chemicals needed to perform its function never reach it because they're told not to."

"So my code chose not to turn on the Werewolf cells?"

"Something like that. The Werewolf cells you're talking about are pure and perfect cells used to make muscle tissue or fibroblasts or..."

"What are fibroblasts?"

"Healing cells which repair tissue."

"You mean the ones which let Phillip get shot in the head and live?"

"Yes, and the ones which let you get bitten by a Zombie and not have the bite marks to prove it."

The genetic code will change everything but it is so vast and complicated information technology is needed to grasp even the smallest of details so medical science and computer technology are working hand in hand on the process whereby genetic deformities will one day no longer be an affliction.

"Okay, done with Stevie here..."

"Steve..." the hand-craving Zombie cannibal said.

"... let's get Bob's fingerprints" Nat said.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What happened to Yin and Yang?"

"They took over the Superior world."

"They...? Oh, I've got to hear this one."

"Sure, but where was I?"

"I think you were at the part where they were growing up separately and Yang was doing some planning or something."

"Okay, well, Yin and Yang were separated during their childhood because we couldn't very well leave them together if they were going to kill every baby Wolf so Yin was raised in the warrior class while Yang was taught differently. Forgive me if I get a little cryptic here because not a whole lot is known about Yang during that particular time. It appears he was brought up in more of a Vampire kind of way; you know, learning how to influence others, how to govern groups of Werewolves, how to blend into the background and other stuff. Yin, on the other hand, we've got a lot of information on because he was catching the eye of every Werewolf and Vampire in the area."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why was he catching their eye?"

"Because we're pack animals, we live in small groups and the more powerful your members the more powerful your group. Our clan system consists of hundreds of different families all ruled by Vampires but it's the power of the Werewolves which dictate the power of the Vampire. If a Vampire has in her family a very powerful set of Wolves then her family will be accorded a higher place in the hierarchy. Now, Yin was an extremely unique Werewolf, one who'd never been bested in combat and was therefore desired by all the Vamps in the clan but he was also an extremely aggressive so the Vamps needed some assurance he wouldn't come in and kill their existing Wolves."

"They do that?"

"They can if they're powerful enough. They almost never do because they need all the allies they can get in order to keep their families safe from other families wishing to move up the hierarchical ladder but there's no rule stating one Werewolf in a family cannot challenge another Werewolf at any time."

"And Yin...?"

"Was capable of challenging any Werewolf anytime, anywhere and winning easily."

"He was that tough?"

"He was beyond tough, he was perfect."

"I thought you said all Werewolves were perfect."

"They are, but there are differing levels of perfection. Take you for example; at your size and weight perfection would be every cell you had functioning without flaw. Now, let's say it's so. Do you think you'd stand a chance against Phillip in a fight?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"If I had a bazooka."

"Really?"

"Oh, come on! You're not going to even consider the fact I might be able to take him if I had a bazooka?"

"Have you ever fired a bazooka?"

"Okay, never mind, I get your point. My perfection is no match for Phillip's perfection. There, I said it, are you happy now?"

"I don't know about happy but I am euphoric."

"Oh, yeah, the whole Dopamine thing."

"You heard about that?"

"Uh-huh, Phillip really wanted to try out his stupid 'high on life' comment."

"He really has been trying to use it in a sentence for a long time. Well, anyway, Yin was being courted by just about every Vampire but at the same time the Werewolves in those Vampires' families were secretly plotting against Yin because they knew he would come in and dominate, if not kill, whichever Wolves were in the family."

"How were they plotting?"

"They were spreading rumors."

"Rumors about what?"

"Yin would not accept Vampire authority."

"Ooh, that's sneaky."

"Yes, and totally false as it turns out but at the time nobody knew any better so Yin, the greatest Werewolf ever conceived, was left without a mate which caused him to be a Beta Wolf which led him to seek a mate in another clan which would eventually bring him to war with the clan who raised yet rejected him."

"What?"

"He found a mate, joined another clan and returned to conquer all."

"Cool!"

Chapter 15

Law enforcement has become a profession populated with the same varying degrees of individuals present in the larger society; some honest, some not, some intelligent, some not, some Human, some...

"How long until you get the results, Nat?" I asked as I walked the Alien detective out to his awesome truck.

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On whether these two have ever been fingerprinted before."

"Well, let's assume they have. How long till you find out?"

"Probably by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. Why? Does it seem like a long time to you?"

"Yes, for some reason I thought you could get the information in a second or two."

"We can, but we're not on Heaven."

"You are."

"Well, yes, but I'm not allowed to assist them that way."

"Why not?"

"Because they're limited only to the information they could relatively achieve on their own. Current law enforcement doesn't have the ability to simply input a fingerprint and instantaneously get a result therefore neither do they."

"Oh."

"And if I were to help them by using Heavenly technology who knows what they'd do."

"What are you talking about? Those guys are the nicest people I've ever met."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Then you really need to get out more."

"That wasn't very nice."

"I'm sorry, but remember who we're talking about here. Those are Vampires and Werewolves and they're not above killing you, me or anyone else who happens to get in their way. Johnny, what do you think is really going on here?"

"Some sort of power struggle?"

"Yes, Johnny, a power struggle; a power struggle involving powerful families in a powerful clan. The family you're with is an extremely adept one. They've been maneuvering for ages through their hierarchy and are, or were before Peter got killed, near the very top. To make it a little easier to understand think of their clan as a corporation with a board of trustees sitting at the top. The board consists of three families who've risen through the ranks to hold the power they have today. Below the board are upper management which is where the LeTorque stand and below them are varying rungs on the ladder with families constantly trying to move up by bringing other families down."

"So the people who killed Peter are...?"

"A family who saw an opportunity to move up the ranks in their bloody corporation by killing Peter North and thus removing some of the LeTorque power by eliminating one of their powerful Wolves."

"Peter North was a powerful Werewolf?"

"Peter North was an extremely powerful Werewolf."

"How powerful?"

"Powerful enough to maneuver his family into a position to challenge for a seat on the board."

"But you said there were only three families on the board. Would they allow a fourth?"

"No."

"Oh, hold on, that means..."

"Yes, it means one of two things is really going on. First, an opportunistic family took a very dangerous chance at moving up in their corporation or..."

"Oh no."

"... a family on top saw a potential threat and decided to do something about it."

Cities traditionally have been forced to grow up due to their popularity which increased population, causing overcrowding and congestion which meant the leaders of those cities had to hire people to design a system of transportation to move the population around in order for the city to function. Unfortunately, the people they hired were also the people who decided other people would just love their roads designated by two different monikers. Yeah, I'm still mad at the double freeway-naming thing.

"What the...?"

"Easy, George, just take a deep breath and..."

"Who designed this city?"

"I don't know, but there's nothing you can do about it now so..."

"I just need to go there! Look, Vivian, you can see the stinking tower right there!" he said while pointing out what we obviously could see on our own without the help of the ticked-off Werewolf motorist who'd somehow managed to make the wrong decision at every point of importance while traversing the silver and glass city of Dallas.

"I can't believe I have to do this!"

"It says you have to" said Vivian.

"But the tower is right there!"

"It's a one-way street, George."

"Well, it's the wrong one-way!"

Cities have always started off as little domiciles where, for some reason or another, a family or group decided to settle in and put down roots. After a while more people joined and they had themselves a nice little village where many different families lived and many little houses were built. Those houses were enjoyed by their families as places for eating, sleeping and sometimes gathering. To gather, people had to transport so common pathways were made by the passing of hoof and foot which led to the paving of those pathways until finally...

"I cannot freaking believe this!"

"Just calm down now, George, there's no point in getting upset."

"It's making me get back on the freeway! We were ten feet from the stinking tower and it's making me get on the freeway!"

I guess it's not really the transportation designers fault because cities took a long time in building their infrastructure and existing places of interest needed incorporation into any roadway design so a simple grid was probably not feasible for many older cities.

"There's no off-ramp!"

"I'm sure there's an off-ramp, George, we just haven't... oh... there it was!"

"There it WAS?"

"Yeah, it looks like we were supposed to be in the other lane instead of..."

"What the...?"

"Oh no."

Speed is the common desire which brought about the freeway system. Speed with which to get from point A to point B in the fastest time possible to get done what needed to get done. Now, freeways themselves usually travel the majority of their distance over land no one wanted to stop and settle so most of the time people travel as fast as the law of traffic will allow until they arrive at their destination. But Texas has numerous other cities, they all like to visit each other, they all have freeways connecting them and those freeways all have one thing in common; a single destination.

"Which one?"

"I have no idea."

"Seriously, Vivian, which one?"

"I don't know, George!"

"My God! Who designed this?"

I don't know when it became commonplace to have every freeway intersect at one specific point but it seems a little bit of reasoning should've entered the cranial regions of those confounded freeway designers.

"Hey, Joe?"

"Yeah, Stan?"

"I got ten freeways here all going to one place. You think I should break up some of the intersecting points, you know, have the Northern and Eastern freeways meet one place and the Southern and Western ones at another?"

"Nah, just make them all meet at the same place."

"Won't that be a little dangerous, Joe?"

"Why, Stan?"

"You know, because a lot of them are going to be changing freeways right then and there might be a little confusion and anxiety involved when a thousand cars are all making different decisions at the exact same time?"

"Oh, don't worry about it, I'm sure they'll all slow down and be courteous to each other."

"You know, you're right, Joe, people are always rational and courteous while driving."

Intersecting freeways are always anxiety producing challenges to people and the reason is simple; if you make a mistake the consequences of the wrong decision are way out of proportion to the deed.

"What did that sign just say, Vivian?"

"Now calm down George..."

"What did it say, Vivian?"

"There's no reason to get upset, George."

"Vivian... what... did... it... say?"

"It said Waxahachie, George, somehow we've entered Waxahachie."

We turned off at the next exit and stopped at a fast food place for a bite to eat; and to let the maniacal Werewolf driver the chance to calm down before he decided to go all demolition derby on the other insanely mystified tourists who also happened to find themselves in a town whose name seemed to be a mocking reminder they'd been beaten by the scheming little freeway designers.

"Hi, what can I get you?"

"Five double-meat combos" replied Phillip.

"Okay, for here or to go?"

"For here."

"Okay, do you want that all on one ticket or should I break it up?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want that all...?"

I think it was about then the poor cashier looked up from his register and realized what he was talking to; well, not what he was talking to but the size of what he was talking to.

"Oh... I'm sorry, sir, that'll be $38.07."

After the rest of us had given our orders and gotten our food we sat down to a good old hamburger-inhaling contest which Phillip won hands down because George kept crushing his cup of cola and had to keep asking for another from the terrified clerk who, quite smartly, wised up and placed about twenty spare ones on the countertop so he wouldn't need to interact with the enormous Werewolf.

"So, we're just going to spy on them?" I asked.

"Yes. You and Vivian are going to case their lobby and see if she recognizes anyone" George said.

"Won't they recognize her?"

"She'll blend into the background and you'll be cloaking her scent so they won't be able to."

"But what if they recognize me?"

"You're not going to look the same," he said.

"I'm not?"

"No."

"What am I going to look like?"

The downturn in the economy caused a lot of people to reevaluate what they would and would not be willing to do in order to provide for themselves and their families. Many professional people took a pay cut and went into occupations where their education and experience were of no use but where there was, at least, a paycheck. This had an unfortunate consequence, though, because the people who previously did those jobs now employing the professionals had to look for employment elsewhere, usually further down the employment chain, which caused people below them to look for work even further down until...

"This is embarrassing."

"I think you look cute."

"I do not look cute, I look foolish."

"Foolish is cute, Sweetie."

I was dressed as a clown. Fuzzy red wig, blue and white makeup on my face, a big red rubber nose, huge body suit tailored to make my girth... girthy... I guess would be the word, stupid long socks, and the largest pair of loafers in Texas.

"It's a thousand degrees in this suit."

"You can handle it, Sweetie."

Every guy knows women manipulate us to do things we would outright reject if asked from another of our own gender. We further know the prettier the girl the more outlandish the manipulation can become. We further, further know we are completely and hopelessly defenseless against this blatant form of exploitation because we illogically think somehow, someway, doing those incredibly self-deprecating things might get us into the good graces of the goddess asking for the humiliation. I was no different.

"Everyone is looking at me."

"It's because you're dressed as a clown, Sweetie."

"This is so embarrassing."

Dallas is like most modern cities and it's built accordingly with residential houses relegated outside of its downtown proper and replaced with apartment and condominium dwellers. Why?

I DON'T KNOW?

Really? Every time I ponder a question?

I'M SORRY. IT'S JUST, WELL, KIND OF A HABIT I GUESS.

Because, like other cities, Dallas has borders so it has limited real estate. Since the most desirable places are usually within walking distance from entertainment and work the downtowns which hold work, entertainment and housing demand a high price to pay. The steep price of land got developers to look up and since the price of air has remained relatively low for the past, oh... ever, those developers built tall skyscrapers which could house people and businesses at a price allowing them to build their own houses someplace as far away from those obscenely overpriced alcoves as possible. Now, those skyscrapers have been developing right along with society and have adapted to the changing designs and materials employed by the architectural community, designs which grew higher and material which shown shinier.

"I think I'm melting."

"You're not melting, Sweetie."

"Seriously, Vivian, I think my face is melting."

"Oh, quit exaggerating. Here, let me take a look and see if... okay, hold on a second."

Glass skyscrapers dominate the skyline of Dallas and they come in many different colors which from far away give the place a sparkling look but, when you're on foot, in the summer...

"What's that smell?"

"Um, just a second, Sweetie, I need to..."

"Is that my nose? Is my nose melting?"

Glass is reflective. Now, this may not seem a big deal to people in more northerly climates but down South the sun shines bright, and hot, and it doesn't take much for the heat to become a problem especially when it's further enhanced by more heat coming from sunlight reflected off glass from thousands of windows on dozens of skyscrapers onto a population walking its concrete foundation until...

"How bad does it look?"

"Well..."

"Come on, how bad?"

"We may need to try a different approach."

"Really? Here, let me see your mirror. It can't be that...?"

I looked like Ronald McDonald lying on an autopsy table being dissected by a group of first year medical students who were blind.

It wasn't the makeup per-se which was the problem; it was the perspiration. I was sweating at an alarming rate because I was dressed as inappropriately as possible for a visit to the concrete, steel and glass downtown of a city not exactly known for its visitoral embrace. Dallas became a city because it was located on a rail line. It has no natural resource which would cause people to sit up and take notice. It has no mountains, had few lakes until the great hole-digging began, resides as far away from the coast as possible and has one general temperature of hot with the occasional freeway-closing ice-storm thrown in to keep it interesting. The rail-line which made Dallas what it is also gave it its purpose, namely economic, which seeped into the very fabric of society to the point where the greatest tragedy to ever hit the town was molded and reshaped into something of a cottage industry of economical ingenuity.

"This is where they shot the president" remarked Vivian.

"Yep."

"Is that a museum?"

"Uh-huh."

"For what?"

"It's a museum about the shooting."

"That's kind of morbid."

"Uh-huh. And they charge you to go in."

"They charge you to visit a museum dedicated to the shooting of a president?"

"Uh-huh. Makes a lot of money too."

Deeley Plaza is the name for the area where President John F. Kennedy was shot while visiting Dallas. For those who've never visited it's an odd place, not because of the subject matter but because the actual assassination spot is readily available to the public at any time and is still employed for its original purpose. JFK was shot in the head while riding in a car traveling on a street which is very much in use today. The actual location where the bullets ripped through his head are marked with X's on the pavement and tourist regularly are seen posing on top of them. The location where the assassin shot from has also been relegated a tourist attraction and it is perhaps this location which has always left me mystified as to why people assume the nutcase could not have done what he did. The prevailing theory goes like this; JFK was riding in the back of the car and the assassin waited in secret for the right moment to unload three rounds into the president's head. Those who don't believe the theory say there is no way the assassin could've done what he did in the time he had to do it. They believe the shots would've been too difficult for one man to accomplish; essentially, the shooter was too far away. If you believe it was too difficult please visit Deeley Plaza, I have, and I believe I could've thrown three tomatoes and hit pay-dirt on at least two of them from the location of the assassin's assault. It is literally within a stone's throw of the X which marks the spot where another president was un-elected through gunfire.

"How long are we supposed to wait?" I asked.

"Trudy said they're on the way. Hey, what are those people doing?"

"It looks like one of them wants to get his picture taken."

"Why is standing in the middle of the street to do it?"

"Because that, Vivian, is the exact location where the president got shot."

"But isn't it kind of dangerous? I mean, I just saw cars whizzing by."

Yep, that's right, the most historically important event to ever tragically visit the great city of Dallas is not isolated or roped off; no, it's marked with an X on a public roadway cars travel on in order to enter the freeway one block down the street.

"Is your phone ringing, Vivian?"

"Oh yeah, thanks, I got a little distracted there."

She got distracted because she was waiting with baited breath to see if the body count on the X was going one visitor higher if the moronic poser didn't step off the street before the next group of future freeway enthusiasts ran him down.

"Hello?" Vivian answered her phone.

"Uh-huh" she said a second later.

"Oh my" she said next.

"Really? Waxahachie again?" she finished.

We decided to meet at Bloody Mary's because it was much closer to the downtown district than my apartment and it would give Vivian and me a place to rest while George, Trudy and Phillip once again returned from their forced visitation to the beautiful town just south of Dallas. It was a little difficult picking up a cab because I looked like a band member in the Killer Clown Posse but Vivian was still stunning and once we figured out all I had to do was wait about fifty feet away from her, she hailed one in about a minute, made the unsuspecting cabdriver wait until I entered and away we went.

"Vivian?" I whispered.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"What if there are other Werewolves waiting for us at Bloody Mary's?"

"Don't worry, they won't attack us."

"Why not?"

"It's forbidden."

"What's forbidden?"

"It's forbidden to kill a Vampire."

"But I'm not a Vampire, Vivian."

"Oh, oh yeah, cabdriver! We've got a new destination" she called out and then grabbed her phone to inform the others of our change of plans.

Chapter 16

Vivian and I arrived back at my apartment and went upstairs to see how the two Zombies were getting along. It turned out Zombies get along quite well when left alone because they get to do exactly what Zombies like to do.

"Holy crap! They're eating each other!"

"Okay, okay, let's just separate them first. Sweetie, can you hold this?" she said while handing me Steve's right foot.

"I knew we shouldn't have left them alone" I said while simultaneously trying to hold onto Steve's foot while removing Bob's right hand from Steve's mouth and pondering how it got there since we hadn't put Steve's teeth back in after the previous hand munching incident.

"Now Bob, you let go! Bob, let go of that toe right this very second!"

We got them separated and began the process of digital reorientation by placing Steve's big toe back on his foot and forcing Bob's hand back on his arm bone. They resembled a pair of deranged mannequin who couldn't decide whether to pose in suit and tie or adult diapers.

"Okay, Sweetie, I've got this. Why don't you go shower and change" Vivian said and I readily complied.

After showering and dressing I re-emerged a new man, walked into my living room and...

"Johnny, are you okay?" came Trudy's voice from above my face.

"Is Vivian still injecting them?" I said from the floor.

"No, she's done."

"Then I'm okay."

Zombies are, apparently, a very hardy species, able to survive even the most grueling of ordeals and keep right on chugging ahead with whatever task is asked of them but they have one minor flaw; unless they receive Vampire blood they will fade away. Furthermore, if they are injured they will also need a new transfusion if one wants them to return to duty in the same manner as when they started so Vivian, the kind hostess she was, decided to give Bob and Steve a little more of her blood in order for them to once again have full access to the appendages God gave them.

"Hey, Johnny."

"Hi, Phillip."

"The clown thing didn't work?"

"No, my makeup ran and my nose melted."

"That's too bad."

"Hey, what time is it?" I asked.

"About five."

"Five? Wow, I must've really fainted there."

"Yeah, Vivian said she could've woken you up but decided to let you rest for a while."

"What took you so long to get back?"

"We stopped and ate."

"George took a wrong turn again, didn't he?"

"Yep, ended up in Garland."

The good thing about being friends with Werewolves and Vampires is you don't need to watch what you eat. You know how it is when sometimes you're hungry but don't want to eat because the person you're with is on some strange diet?

...

Oh, not going to interrupt this time?

NOPE.

Well, with Werewolves and Vampires you don't need to worry because they eat anything, anytime, anywhere.

"This is a really good burger" I said.

A grunt is the response I got from the four Superiors as they kept right on eating. Even the Vampires could've cared less about chit-chat at the table which is, I think, the best way to combat hunger; just eat the dang thing away. Okay, it might not be the best example for a population whose obesity rate outnumbers the percentage of brunettes in number but, for a person who likes their burgers without all the fluff and flutter of conversation, eating with a bunch of admitted murdering blood-suckers has its advantages. We finished about fifteen minutes after we started the plate of twenty.

"What do we do now?" asked Trudy.

"We can go back after dark when it's not so hot and try again?" I responded.

"Nope, it won't work then. We're trying to catch them as they go about their everyday duties and during the middle of the day is by far the best time. If we sent you in after dark it'd look a little suspicious with a clown handing out free pizza coupons at night and all" said George.

Uh-huh, that was our plan, dress me as a clown and enter the lobby with Vivian doing her disappearing act and me wandering around handing out free pizza coupons to whomever I encountered. It may not have been the most devilish of ideas but I think it might've worked because it happens every day in a city the size of Dallas. Businesses need to advertise but advertising costs a lot of money so businesses come up with different ways to advertise and one of those ways is to get people who need an income to do things considered hazing if a fraternity did it. Businesses have people dress as silly creatures in order to get potential customers to look their way and, once they do, give them even more reason to enter their stores by enticing them with free stuff. It's a sort of bait and switch; come on in, get a free pizza, here's our phone number, call us anytime. It works too! It just sucks to be the poor, out-of-work, acting-school graduate who tends to wind up dressed as an eight-foot chicken standing on the side of the road twirling a sign at passing motorists which subconsciously reads "I really screwed up!"

"And you don't think me wearing a mask would work? It definitely wouldn't melt."

"No, Johnny, too dangerous. They'll be watching for someone who looks like you just in case we didn't..."

"Kill me?"

"... yes, kill you. If anyone enters their business with a mask they're going to want to see who's underneath and if they find out it's you...?"

"They'll kill me?"

"Well, maybe not kill you, maybe they'd think you were acting alone and just capture you. But if it were me and I had a Cloak in my lobby...?"

"You'd kill me?"

"Yes."

"There's a lot of scenarios where I get killed here, George."

"Yes, Johnny, I know. We're trying to come up with one which doesn't."

So we sat there discussing varying ways to get me inside the lobby of the building housing Commercial Property Management Incorporated so Vivian could go super-commando and discover which of the greedy little underling families had taken the ripe opportunity to splatter the brains of the adulterous, Bloody-Mary loving Werewolf previously named Peter North who now went by the descriptive moniker of Worm-food.

"... no, that won't work."

"Why not?"

"If he's stuffed inside a soda machine his cloaking powers will be muffled and Vivian won't be able to..."

It was the first time I'd actually really conspired to do something. It's always struck me as odd large portions of the population don't believe in conspiracies and people who do get labeled 'conspiracy nuts'. Well, count me in as one of those nuts. It seems absurd to believe someone born with the innate desire for power or money would balk at conspiring with others of their ilk to acquire it. We all conspire. When we go to buy a vehicle we conspire with each other to get the salesman to lower his price by planning beforehand how we'll act and what we'll say to achieve the goal. And you know what? He's conspiring with his boss against us to sell his vehicle for the highest price so he can keep his job and buy a trip to Aruba or something. It's natural to conspire. We were born to conspire. It's just some are better at it than others.

"Seriously, Phillip, a tree?"

"Yeah. Johnny could hide inside the foliage while Vivian checked out the lobby."

"How are we going to get a tree inside the lobby?"

"We could get it delivered."

"By who?"

"The tree-delivering people."

I believe the term 'conspiracy nut' was coined by a wise conspirator who knew something all of us know but are reluctant to admit; we love being smarter than the other guy. When someone believes they've been wronged but can't prove it because they don't have the resources to get the proof and they air their grievances to the world we all, naturally, become the arbiter of fact in our own minds. We look at those facts as they're presented to us, ponder the possibilities, and come to the most self-satisfying conclusion possible; the guy's a nut. Why? Because the wronged party is always an individual and the thing he's accusing is invariably a large organization. We as a society have allowed large organizations to become commonplace so we have a vested interest in them being good, outstanding, law-abiding groups who'd better not violate our trust in them. If they do we get mad. Why do we get mad?

I DON'T KNOW?... SORRY, I'LL BE QUIET.

Because we feel we've been duped. We don't like to get duped because getting duped means someone outsmarted us. We don't like to get outsmarted because we like the idea of outsmarting the other guy, not the reverse. So when some lone individual comes up to us and says something we've allowed to exist is doing wrong we become defensive and do the only thing which will allow us to maintain our belief we are too smart to be duped; we call the guy a 'nut'.

"That's actually not a bad idea."

"Yes, it is."

"No, Johnny, it's not. It's got just the right amount of incredulity to make it believable and they can't ask you to reveal yourself without making a scene."

"It's a horrible idea."

"Think about it. Even if, for some reason, they ask you to take it off you can always deny them and walk right out. There's no way they'd take the chance of detaining you because if you turned out to be real and went to the media the Clan Elders would expel them for bringing unwanted attention to themselves."

"I'm not doing it, George."

"Please, Johnny" said one.

"No chance, Phillip."

"Please, Sweetie" said another.

"Now look here, Vivian, just because you've got those big blue eyes doesn't mean..."

"Please" said the last.

I've come to the conclusion women don't rule the planet because they don't want the aggravation. If they wanted to rule all they'd need to do is bat their eyes and say 'please' a couple of times and, if I am any representative of my gender, we will comply happily.

"How long before they get back?" I asked.

"I don't know? It's probably not a common item around here" Trudy answered.

"What's Phillip doing?"

"Putting Bob and Steve to work."

"Doing what?"

"Cleaning your bathroom."

I was sitting on the floor with Trudy because we both decided Zombie fluids were probably beyond even modern-day dry-cleaning techniques. George and Vivian were on their little shopping spree and Phillip was supervising the diapered Zombies with the removal of hard-water stains.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Tell me more about Yin and Yang."

"Sure, where was I?"

"Yin couldn't find a mate because of gossiping rivals and Yang was like Rudolf who couldn't play any Werewolf games."

"Good one."

"Thank you."

"Okay, Yin went off to find a mate while Yang remained behind. It's believed Yang had a secret benefactor who understood his unique relationship with his brother because he survived."

"Huh?"

"The other Werewolves didn't kill him."

"Oh."

"So anyway, Yin left and began his search of a mate which led him to the east where the second of the three clans resided."

"Oh, hold on, could you back up a little bit."

"Sure, where to?"

"Um, okay, I don't know where but could you explain the whole three clan thing?"

"Sure, there are three clans and they govern their territories with absolute authority. The first governs Europe and Africa, the second governs Asia and Australia, and the third governs the Americas."

"What are their names?"

"We don't designate them by name because it would entail picking one family to represent all which would result in a bloodbath."

"Oh, then how do you designate them?"

"Numerically."

"Numerically?"

"Yes; First Clan, Second Clan and Third Clan."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

"Well, I was thinking it would be a little more exotic."

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

"So, to continue, Yin went east in search of a mate and met up with Second Clan almost immediately."

"How'd he do that?"

"Well, he was pretty much killing everyone he came in contact with so word got around."

"Oh."

"Uh-huh, he was probably still a little upset at being snubbed and all so he met up with Second Clan and was immediately challenged by the largest Wolf in the pack. After ripping that Wolf's head off he went about challenging and beheading the lesser Wolves and probably would've put an end to the Werewolf population in Asia if the Vampires hadn't come to their senses and promote one of their most gifted as a mate to Yin."

"They promoted someone?"

"Uh-huh. The Vamp in question was still in training but she showed great potential and they were starting to run out of Werewolves so she got promoted early and offered as mate to Yin."

"Kind of like an arranged marriage?"

"Well, if by arranged you mean some sort of agreement was reached then, yes, it was arranged."

"You don't think arranged is the right word?"

"Well, arranged implies there was a meeting of the minds and in this particular case the only minds who met were of headless Werewolves which happened to bump into each other when Yin tossed them aside."

"Why didn't they just gang up on Yin?"

"Because they were fighting for a mate and their hierarchal order in whichever family they joined."

"So if two of them ganged up on Yin...?"

"It would be viewed with displeasure by whichever Vampire they were fighting over and deemed unsorted by any other mated pair when considering whom to join with to make a family."

"How do you make families?"

"Three pair of mated make up a family."

"Why only three?"

"Because any more and we start pairing up and killing each other."

"Why don't two mates get together and kill the third."

"Because then a family of three mated would see a weakness and kill the family of two."

"What about single Wolves and Vampires, can they join the family?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because the other Vampires and Wolves who were mated would constantly think the single ones were trying to take their mate."

"What would happen then?"

"They'd be killed."

"There sure is a lot of killing involved."

"Yes, we were born to kill."

"I'm starting to see that. So, what was her name?"

"Who?"

"The Vampire Yin was to be mated with."

"Her name was Merry Li."

There was a disturbance coming from the bathroom with a lot of splashing and grunting so we quickly regained our feet, raced through my bedroom and peered in the bathroom door to find Steve hunched over the toilet bowl with his right arm plunged as deep inside the nasty porcelain depository his arm would allow while Phillip stood over him screaming...

"Just open your hand, man!".

Bob, for his part, was standing in my shower with a brush making small circles on my previously unwashed tile interior. He, unfortunately, must've not recovered enough brain activity to actually grasp the task at hand because instead of cleaning one area and enlarging it he was making numerous little circles and my shower wall appeared as though a depressed polka-dot fairy with a thing for moldy grey had decided to decorate.

"Phillip, what's going on?" I asked.

"Steve, here..." Phillip began.

"Steve..." said the toilet-bowl cleaning Zombie.

"...stuck his whole hand down the drain hole and can't seem to grasp the concept of letting go" Phillip finished.

"Well, did you tell him to let go of whatever he's holding?"

"Of course I did but he doesn't seem to get it."

"Okay, let me try."

"He's all yours" Phillip said and moved to let me near my previous work-mate.

"Steve, it's Johnny..."

"Steve..."

"Unclench your hand, Steve."

"Steve..."

"Unclench your hand, Steve."

"Steve..."

"Okay, this guy's a moron."

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"Do you mind if I try?"

"Go for it. I think I need to use it soon and I'm not sure I can if Steve..."

"Steve..." moron Zombie repeated.

"...has his hand stuck in there."

"Phillip?" Trudy asked as she moved up next to me so both of us stood over Steve.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"How did you tell him to perform this chore?"

"I don't understand the question, Mistress?"

"Did you tell him in a long-winded way or with only one word?"

"Oh, well, let's see... I handed him the scrubbing pad and just told him to scrub."

"Okay" she said while reaching down and grasping hold of Steve's free left arm.

"Steve" she said.

"Steve..." he answered back.

"Attack!"

And that dang Zombie lunged at me with everything he had which wasn't much, thankfully, because Trudy had his only free upper appendage grasped firmly in her hand. It didn't stop him from trying though; he tried to bite me, he tried to kick me and the whole time it was going on I was backpedaling faster than a guy who answers honestly the question of "Do I look fat in this?". At about the time I stepped fully outside the bathroom interior Steve figured out how to open his hand and let go of the scrubbing pad which allowed him to follow through with his orders of insanity by snarling and lunging at me with all he was worth.

"Crap! He's got my foot!" I screamed.

"Look at him go!" Phillip screamed.

"Stop!" Trudy screamed.

And he stopped. I was lying on my back and could feel my heart racing at the speed of sound. I was breathing like an asthmatic and had a former fellow employee leering at me from his prone position on the bathroom floor where he'd ended up after trying to catch me and do whatever it was Zombies do when they catch you.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What the heck was that?"

"I had to use a simple command."

"A simple command?"

"Yes."

"And you couldn't come up with something better than 'attack'."

"Um, no, I'm sorry but I couldn't think of anything better off the top of my head."

"Really? You couldn't think of 'itch' or 'scratch' or, I don't know, 'wave'?"

"No, all I could think of was 'attack'".

And the insane little brain-eater went after me again, clawing his way up my leg one nasty little toilet-water drenched hand at a time.

"Holy...!" I screamed.

"There he goes again!" Phillip screamed.

"Stop!" Trudy screamed.

And he stopped again but this time he was halfway up my torso, eyeing me with those beady eyes of his, just waiting for the word to attack and get some sort of Zombie payback on the only guy left standing from the sales team of old Bob Simpson at Industrial Products.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Could you very quietly and calmly get Steve..."

"Steve..."

"...off of me!"

Apparently the code word to get Zombies with brain damage off people is 'stand' and further apparently the way to avoid using your toilet bowl for what it was made for is to have same brain-damaged Zombie attack you thus relieving you, literally, of the need to use said toilet.

"I'm so sorry, Johnny."

"Trudy, would you please take Steve..."

"Steve..."

"...and Phillip and go into the other room so I can change."

"Sure, come on you two."

She closed the door and I sat on my bed for a second trying to catch my breath and come to grips with the fact I was almost eaten by a man wearing a navy blue jacket and diapers. I kicked off my soiled garments and went into the bathroom to clean myself. The place was a wreck with toilet water on the floor and my bathroom rug tossed willy-nilly in the corner but I didn't care. All I wanted was to wash away my worries so I grabbed the shower curtains and...

"Phillip!"

"Sorry, sorry" Phillip said as he rushed back through my bedroom to enter my bathroom and...

"Come on Bob."

...take the remaining Zombie by the hand and lead him out.

By the time George and Vivian arrived back at my apartment we were all settled in my living room with Phillip, Trudy and me sitting on the floor while the two Zombies took their rightful places on my soiled and unusable futon.

"Hey guys, we brought food" exclaimed Vivian in her adorable way.

"Ooh! What did you get?" replied Trudy in her just as adorable way.

"Pizza."

"Thank God!" exclaimed Phillip and I in our imitation of what cute girls would adorably say if they weren't cute and not girls.

Pizza may be the second best food group after Tex-Mex and I think the reason is as obvious as the nose on your face. They contain, at their core, the exact same ingredients of cheese, sauce, bread and, if you so desire, meat. By the way, the nose on my face is not obvious to me, it's very hard for me to see without crossing my eyes and giving myself a headache. Who thought of that saying?

UM...ER...?

Probably some amazingly rude individual who had a friend with a large honker who was then so overcome with humiliation he punched his rude friend back in his nose so the stupid saying would make sense.

I love pizza because of its simplicity; just slap some dough down, spread a little tomato sauce around, add cheese and whatever else you've got laying around and... Bang!... ready-to-eat meal with utensils not only optional but generally frowned upon.

"Did you guys find it?" Trudy asked between bites.

"Uh-huh" replied Vivian.

"Where'd you find it?"

"Just up the street and it was on sale!"

"Really? How lucky can you get?"

"Tell me about it. First, we went to that big mall, you know the one..."

Probably the third thing Dallas is known for, after its restaurants and heat, is its shopping. There are thousands and thousands of stores dedicated to the one overarching theme the great city was founded on; spending. They spend on everything from apples to zip ties. If it's made they have it, if not, they'll make it. It probably stems from the fact Dallas doesn't really have a background to rely upon when coming up with ways to describe their great city. New York has the fast and frenzied feel of a city on the go, Las Vegas has gambling while Los Angeles has beaches and Hollywood. Dallas has an airport. And it's not actually wholly owned by Dallas. Fort Worth has half the bragging rights to the name but I don't think it's really all too fair. Why?

I DON'T KNOW? ALL RIGHT. I'VE GIVEN UP, AND I'M JUST GOING TO ANSWER!

Because Fort Worth already has a claim to fame; they're 'Cow Town, USA'. Now, it's not exactly a name I would've picked to sum up my town's overall ambiance but, then again, it's unique. If someone asks you where you're from and you answer "Cow Town, USA!" well, quite a few people are going to know exactly where you're from and have a general feel as to what culture you were brought up in. If someone asks a person from Dallas where they're from and they answer "Dallas" the only reference the other person's going to have is the place a president was shot, a football team or some awful television show from the last century which painted the people from Dallas in the most negative light imaginable. The show was called 'Dallas' and it represented a group of people who, if they actually existed, would've either been run out of town or shot dead by an angry mob of Dallasites tired of being lampooned as a bunch of spoiled, selfish, money-hoarding parasites with the ethics of Scrooge and the kindness of Hitler.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, George?"

"Why is Steve staring at you?"

"Steve..." came the voice from the couch.

"Because he's a really lousy houseguest, George."

Chapter 17

We finished eating and began our preparation to find out which family decided to make a move on the LeTorque which consisted of me and George returning to Bloody Mary's while Phillip, Trudy and Vivian went to buy outfits at a clothing store Vivian had seen when she went shopping earlier. I asked why she didn't buy them when they were there before and she explained when she was there earlier she was merely shopping, this time she would be buying. I accepted her explanation because she said it with such authority I thought maybe I didn't understand the correct definition of shopping.

WHAT IS THE CORRECT DEFINITION?

I'm still not sure.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Earlier, Vivian and I were going to Bloody Mary's and she said it'd be okay because if there were any other Werewolves they wouldn't kill her because she's a Vampire."

"So?"

"You're not a Vampire."

"I know."

"What if we come across some other Werewolves?"

"We'll kill them."

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny."

"What did you mean by we?"

"You'll be fine, trust me."

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"You missed the turnoff."

"Son of a...!"

Dallas at night is a completely different place than by day and I say it knowing everyplace at night is different than by day. What I mean is; because of the way Dallas is governed, at night it becomes something better than most other cities who proclaim themselves a nightlife destination. First of all, Dallas doesn't believe in the annoyance of neon signs proclaiming to the world they have "Girls Girls Girls". No, everyone knows it has girls so proclaiming them to others would be ludicrous. Secondly, Dallas doesn't believe in doing what other cities have done and have only one entertainment district, no, Dallas has four and they are as different as one can get. One is quaint, one is cool, one is commercial and one is edgy. The four areas are called 'Uptown', 'Downtown', 'Lower Greenville' and the previously mentioned 'Deep Elum'. If you're wondering which one is cool or quaint you'll need to visit them yourself because they're constantly shifting due to who's in charge of their respective descriptions; young people. Young people think old people are uncool and their definition of old is anyone who's voted more than twice so young people change their preference of nightlife according to what was popular a few years back which makes it unpopular today. The lifecycles for these four boroughs of beverage intoxication go from edgy to quaint to cool to commercial and no amount of advertisement or promotion has been devised which can change the natural order of things.

"Okay, Johnny, I need you to drive around the block a couple of times."

We'd pulled up about a half-mile from Bloody Mary's and George stopped the truck so we could switch places while he crunched down in the back seat to remain as invisible as a seven-foot Werewolf could under the circumstances.

"You're sure this is going to work?"

"Trust me."

Do you think successful people became so by following the instructions of others whose only advice was "trust me"?

NO.

Good answer.

"Okay" I said.

Which proved why I was not successful.

"What am I looking for?"

"Anyone who looks suspicious."

Deep Elum at the time was edgy so his advice was helpless. Every person we passed had something about them screaming "I'm suspicious!" from tattoos to blue hair to pants riding so low around their hips it seemed they were preparing to mark their scent or leave a calling card at any moment. The edgy establishments are what the commercial establishments once were and it is the prospect of enormous wealth which keeps proprietors of those unique watering holes in abundant hopefulness. If an edgy establishment gets the reputation of quaint then it makes money and becomes cool. From there it's a glorious ride up the money train until the place hits its peak and becomes commercial. At commercial the nightclub is literally printing money but there's a catch; it's the end of the line. What a place makes in the limited time as commercial is what the owner pockets for a lifetime and, make no mistake, the profits generated by a successful club can keep a smart owner on easy street till judgment day. So why aren't there lots of examples of successful proprietors living the good life?

BECAUSE THEY'RE STUPID?

No, because those innovators of entertainment do not own the brick and mortar which house the golden goose; the landlords do. As a club becomes successful and its lease runs out the amount of the new rental agreement will reflect the popularity of the club; the more successful, the higher the rate. It's a fine balancing act the proprietors must make when treading into those territories because if, God forbid, their club all of a sudden is deemed uncool, and they still have a lot of lease left, then the club owner will be pouring his profits from the previous years of hard-liquor distilment into the hands of the landlord who will evict the loser the second a payment is late.

"Hey, George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Who is Stephanie?"

"I told you. She's Peter's mate or, I guess ,she was before he got his head blown off."

"What's she like?"

"She's beautiful."

"I kind of guessed that."

"No, not physically beautiful although she is, more like beautiful in her approach to the family."

"Huh?"

"She's our Matriarch."

"So, what, she makes all the decisions and stuff?"

"She could. She might be the most powerful Vampire ever. It's within her prerogative to do so but she doesn't. She allows all of us to speak our minds and gives us time and space to compromise. Not all Matriarchs do. In fact I can't think of any others who have."

"What do the others do?"

"Issue orders and demand loyalty."

"But she doesn't?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because she can't predict the outcome, none of us can."

"Huh?"

"Our system of family is set up so a Vampire is in charge but she is elected by the Wolves."

"You vote her in?"

"No, we fight her in."

"Okay, I'm not following you."

"When a mated pair begin searching for a family there's usually a relatively easy hierarchy to follow with the dominant Wolf's mate chosen as the Matriarch. Usually the other Wolves accede to the demands of the dominant one and take their place accordingly with the second strongest Wolf's mate as second in charge and the third, well, third in charge. A dominant Wolf is an Alpha and there's really only so many to go around so in virtually every instance of family bonding the hierarchy is set and the family is whole. But every once in a while there are too many Alpha's to go around. Now, we Wolves are born to kill and we're bred to fight so when two Alphas get together the bloodbath which ensues could paint a town red."

"I'm still not following you."

"Peter was an Alpha."

"Okay."

"So am I."

"Okay."

"And so is Phillip."

"Okay, so what does that have to do with...? Oh! Well, then who was in charge?"

"Peter."

"But I thought you said you were all Alphas?"

"We are."

"Then why was Peter in charge? Did he beat the two of you in a fight?"

"No, he submitted before we could fight."

"Huh?"

"Peter came to me and did what I thought he could not do; he conceded any claim to be Alpha. He then went to Phillip and did the same."

"Then how did Stephanie get to be the Matriarch?"

"Vivian and Trudy picked her."

"I thought you said the mate of the Alpha was the Matriarch."

"I did."

"But Peter conceded."

"True."

"Then how...?"

"When Peter conceded the only two who could claim the Alpha were me and Phillip. We were both ready to battle when it dawned on Vivian and Trudy what Stephanie's plan really was."

"Which was?"

"To have me and Phillip inflict enough damage on each other when Peter reinstated his claim of Alpha neither one of us would be able to challenge him successfully."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't the two of you just rip him to shreds."

"First, I'm not sure we could and, second, the girls got together and made a very interesting proposal."

"What was that?"

"If we cooperated we could stake a claim as Clan Elders."

The area known as Deep Elum looks, tastes and feels like a rundown warehouse district which was converted into a low-rent nightclub destination which is all true except the low-rent part. It's located on the east side of downtown and is basically a bunch of older buildings who've seen their better days pass them buy and is traversed by one-way roads which lead to freeways in whichever direction one travels. It's dark, dingy, dirty and, during daylight hours, depressing; but at night the place comes alive.

"Slow down, Johnny."

There are many differing people who visit the confines of Deep Elum because the culture doesn't discriminate, it allows anyone with the ability to do so the opportunity to come down and partake in the eclectic lifestyle of those on the edge.

"Take a right."

Those people can take many forms from gothic anti-establishment to preppy Wall-Street mimickers to...

"Stop."

... Werewolves.

"You smell one, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Where is he? Oh, is he the guy right over there?"

"No, that's not him."

"Are you sure? Because he sure looks like he could be one."

"Johnny, the guy's got a Mohawk."

"I know. A man-eating, head-ripping-off Mohawk."

"Johnny, it's blue."

"Uh-huh. Makes him even scarier looking."

"Do you remember when we told you we try to blend in with the local populace?"

"Yes."

"A blue Mohawk isn't a blending-in look."

"Oh."

"He's over there, Johnny."

I looked to where he indicated but didn't see anyone who gave off the Wolf-man vibe, just a group of teenagers hanging out on the sidewalk in front of a dive which catered to the harder rock of the musical genre, two homeless men discussing whatever the homeless have to discuss and a hot-dog cart with a vendor sitting upon the low concrete wall the cart was parked before. I couldn't see the vendor well because he was hidden in the shadow cast by the cart's umbrella overhang which was under a streetlamp.

"It's the hot-dog man, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yep."

"You're going to kill the hot-dog man, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"When?"

"Now."

He opened the back door of the four-door pickup truck and exited the vehicle on the opposite side of the vendor as I climbed over the front seat and exited the passenger side. We were about three-quarters of a block away and, shielded by the truck, we made our plan.

"What are we going to do?" I asked.

"You're going to walk up and order a hot dog while I sneak around from behind and take him out."

Uh-huh, freaking Yin and Yang style.

Now, I know this may come as a surprise but I didn't remember participating in any assassination attempts except on video games or in my dreams where I offed just about everyone and everything within a one-mile square radius. This time was different because of two very important details; first, the guy was alive and, second, so was I. Which meant two very distinct possibilities were about to occur; one, he was going to die or, two, I was going to die. I don't particularly like the idea of dying which might've been the reason why what happened... happened.

"You got any spare change?" one of the homeless men asked.

"No" I responded.

"You don't have even one dollar?" the other homeless man asked.

"No."

"Well, thanks anyway" the first said and I responded with a nod as I kept moving towards the hot-dog Werewolf.

"Hey, are you going inside there?" one of the teenagers asked indicating the all-night shop located next to the hard-rock club which catered to the selling of all things tobacco related.

"No" I responded while still moving toward my destiny with death.

"Well, could you go in there and buy me a pack of cigs? I forgot my driver's license" he said.

"No" I told the youth who looked all of fourteen.

"Why not?" he said.

"Because I'm going to buy a hot dog" I said which was the wrong thing to say.

I was within earshot of the hot dog stand and knew it because after I made my statement to the underage smoker the shadow of the Wolf stirred at the mention of his tasty product; but not only him, oh no, someone else heard it also.

"Hey, I thought you said you didn't have any money?"

Yep, homeless wino guy heard it.

"What?" I said innocently.

"You said you didn't have any money" he said accusingly.

"I'm sorry, I only have enough money for my hot dog" I replied with what I thought was a brilliant comeback considering I was making it up out of thin air.

"Hey, if you buy me a pack of reds I'll give you a dollar and you can give it to him" the zit-faced annoyance said.

"Why don't you have him buy your cigarettes?" I said disbelieving I was having the conversation at all.

"Because I'm not allowed in there" smelly, drunk, homeless guy said.

"You see? It's a win-win situation for everyone" zitty smoker-boy said.

"No it's not, I don't get anything" I responded by stating the obvious.

"You'll get to keep your hot dog money" the second homeless guy said by way of joining the conversation.

"What?" was my confused reply.

A right cross was his answer. As I was falling I remember thinking the old guy had a pretty good punch and I probably would've left it at that except they didn't want me to leave it at that; they wanted me to leave it without my hot-dog money. So as I lay there on the ground, valiantly huddled in the fetus position, getting pummeled by two homeless winos and one zit-faced freshman I kept thinking 'This is not how I pictured the life of an assassin' and I probably would've given them my hot-dog money if not for my guard dog.

"That's enough!" I heard George's voice say.

"What? Who the heck are...?" one of the winos began.

"Holy crap!" the second wino said.

"I'm out of here!" zit-boy said.

And the pummeling stopped as quickly as it began so I opened my eyes and saw George holding the homeless guy two feet off the ground by his tongue.

"Watch your tongue!" George said to the man who was kicking his feet, waving his hands and, I believe, trying to scream for help but I can't be sure because the seven-foot Werewolf had ahold of the man's yelling appendage.

"Johnny, are you okay?" George asked.

"No, I'm not okay, I just got mugged" I replied.

"Is anything broken?" he asked.

I was about ready to tell him I thought my jaw, ribs and pride were but then realized I was in absolutely no pain whatsoever.

"Huh? That's weird."

"What's weird?"

"I'm not hurt. I don't feel even the slightest bit of pain."

"Well, that's a good thing right?"

"Heck yeah, that's a good thing!"

"What do you want me to do with him?" George said indicating the wriggling man in his clutch.

I was thinking about having my Wolf rip the guy's tongue right out of his mouth but couldn't because the man looked so pathetic I would've never forgiven myself. He resembled a catfish being shown off at the weighing-in ceremony, wiggling and squirming while George held his tongue with his eyes bulging out and pleading with me in a way which silently screamed "Please throw me back in!".

"Let him go."

"You sure? No one would ever miss this guy."

And Wino-guy's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Yeah, let him go."

"All right."

George set the man down by his tongue but before letting go he bent down, looked the guy square in the eye and said "You just got your second chance, there won't be a third."

Homeless wino's can run real fast if motivated properly.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Where's the hot-dog guy?"

"In the hot-dog cart."

We wheeled the hot dog cart around the back of Bloody Mary's and George fished in his pocket for a set of keys he used to open one of the back doors to the place. We wheeled the cart inside and I realized we were in the room where all of the backup liquor was stored.

"I'm in Heaven" I said.

"No you're not, Nat's in Heaven."

"You know what I mean, George."

"Yeah, I'm just kidding. It's pretty impressive, isn't it?"

He wasn't kidding, it was impressive. There was just about any type of liquid refreshment one could want if they wished to alter reality a bit; from sweet schnapps to smoky whiskey, from white wine to gold tequila, there was every delicious drop of life-killing swill in attendance. If, by some odd coincidence, you happen to find yourself trapped in the back room of Bloody Mary's during the second coming of the Apocalypse you might want to consider Rumplemintz; a peppermint flavored liquor with just a hint of coffee bean served ice-cold so it's cool to the tongue but shocking to the throat as it delivers its searing liquid down the esophageal pathway. You'll probably wind up face-down in a gutter when you meet your maker but you'll do so with minty-fresh breath.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, George?"

"Could you give me a hand here?"

It seemed whenever I heard the phrase I was handling other people's extremities and this time was no different. The Werewolf stuffed inside the hot dog cart was as large as I pictured and there would've been absolutely no way for him to fit inside the push around cart if not for his head missing, which George removed from the bun warming compartment as I pulled out the last of the Wolf from the underneath storage bin.

"Man, he's big" I said as I finally got him sprawled out on the floor of the liquor paradise.

"Yeah, that's Joseph."

"You knew him?"

"Oh yeah, I've known him most of his life."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry."

"What for?"

It should have been as obvious as the nose-on-the-face thing I was sorry he had to kill a man he'd known before but it was obvious to me it wasn't obvious to him thus further reinforcing my previous opinion the nose is not an obvious thing.

"I'm sorry you had to kill your friend."

"He wasn't my friend."

"No?"

"No, we Wolves don't have friends."

"What about Phillip?"

"He's my family."

"So?"

"How many family members grow up to be friends?"

"Oh."

I got his point. Most family members grow up and see each other only a few times a year. Oh, they love each other and would probably fight for each other but they generally don't remain friends and I think this is so because of one small detail; they knew each other when they were kids. Kids are cute, kids are innocent, kids are the future and kids are also the most sadistic little buggers in the world to other kids. They taunt, tease, poke, hit, spit and claw at each other with such regularity it's a wonder they ever get out of elementary school. When families have kids they generally do so within the span of a decade so the children tend to grow up around their siblings during the formative phase of their lives, a phase which consists of rumor and gossip-mongering which would put the Hollywood paparazzi to shame. It's obviously not their fault, their brains are still growing and all, but it tends to leave a bad impression on the smaller kids who're generally the recipients of all the claptrap so it's probably not a wonder when those children grow into adulthood they have a little reluctance to fully trust the sibling who once gave them a wedgie so high they walked around like a rodeo cowboy for a week. They probably don't even remember the incident, relegating it as unnecessary and useless information but it undoubtedly still left a bad aftertaste like when you try broccoli for the first time; you don't need to remember the actual flavor of the vile vegetable to know you don't particularly trust it's culinary promises.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What are we going to do with Joseph here" I said indicating the headless Werewolf.

"Cut him up and toss him away."

The inside of Bloody Mary's was a pulsating experience of bass and treble which shocked the recipient upon entrance with flashing lights and sinewy movement from shadowy places the eye couldn't catch at first glance. We moved through the thin yet expanding crowd of future intoxicants and made our way to the main bar located near the north entrance where, once seated, we were immediately met by a bartender who could've been a pinup poster.

"Good evening, George."

"Good evening, Jennifer."

"What can I get you?"

"Just water, and get my friend here anything he wants."

"Yes, sir. Hello, sir" the stunning blonde said to me.

"Hello" I replied back.

"What can I get for you?" she asked.

"A Bloody Mary" I responded before even thinking about it.

"Would you like salt with that?" she asked and I nodded I would.

I don't know where or when the first Bloody Mary was concocted but it must've been a shock to the first recipient of the strange looking cocktail. It's basically tomato juice and vodka with spices and other orts thrown in as the preparer deems fit but, for some reason, it works. I don't think on my most experimental of days I would 've decided I had the yearning for a vegetable slurry of red paste and pepper and I definitely wouldn't have topped it off with a liquor which has the taste equivalent of spiced spit but, then again, I'm not the most inventive of individuals.

"Are you trying to put us out of business?" George asked.

"Huh?"

"The Bloody Mary, I told you we don't make any money off of it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, should I get something else?"

"No, don't worry about it, let's just see how you like it" he said with a strange grin on his face.

"What...?" I began to ask.

"Here you gentlemen are" the beautiful blonde server of everything good said as she set our drinks in front of us.

"Thanks, Jennifer" George said.

"You're welcome, George, can I get you anything else?" she asked.

"No, thanks" he said.

"Okay, just yell when you need anything."

"Thanks."

He grabbed his water, turned to me and said "Bottoms up."

I clinked his glass of water with my glass of Bloody Mary, lifted the eight ounces of liquid relief to my lips, sipped, swallowed and searched desperately for the nearest restroom.

I returned to my barstool after visiting the public defecation center to find George sitting there with an innocent expression on his face.

"You knew that would happen" I said.

"What?" he said with a look of feigned ignorance.

"Don't 'What?' me, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Oh, you mean the vomiting thing."

"Yes, I mean the vomiting thing."

"Well, Phillip warned you alcohol wouldn't work anymore."

"He didn't tell me I would puke my guts out."

"He didn't?"

"No, he didn't, and please get that cheesy grin off your face."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"I know."

"What the heck happened?"

"Your body won't tolerate alcohol anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because alcohol is a poison. Your body will no longer allow you to put anything in it which has a negative effect on it."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"What about pizza?"

"Pizza has nutrients."

"But..."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"But I don't want to get used to it."

"Sorry, it's part of the deal."

"What deal?"

"The deal where we allowed you to blood-bond with us in exchange for your life."

"Oh, that deal."

We walked around Bloody Mary's for a while so George could visit the other bartenders and also get a feel for who was inside the place, namely, whether or not there were any other Werewolves or Vampires roaming around. I took my Bloody Mary from the main bar and secretly poured it out in one of the trashcans because I didn't want Jennifer to think I didn't like her concoction of instant stomach upheaval because, you never know, maybe one day me and her would make little Johnnies together and I didn't want something like a little regurgitation to spoil it.

"Hey, Johnny, I want you to meet Ralph, he's our bar manager" George said.

He then introduced me to the strangest looking man in the club. I say 'strangest' because he was the only person except for George and I who was dressed even moderately resembling a normal human being. He had on a suit and tie which pretty much set him apart from every other delinquent frequenting the establishment who seemed to think they were on special assignment from military intelligence and a dress code was something to be analyzed and broken.

"Pleased to meet you, Johnny" Ralph said as he shook my hand.

"You too" I said.

"Johnny, me and Ralph need to take a look at the books. Do you think you'll be all right for a while?"

"Oh, sure, go right ahead" I said with a tip of my soda I'd obtained in order to remove the taste of bile from my throat.

The two walked away and I sat down at one of the few tables available in the place. It wasn't so much the place was full, far from it, for it was still only nine o'clock but the place wasn't designed to be a hang-out-and-be-seen kind of place; no, it was a drum-pounding, guitar-screaming, bass-thumping, synchronized cacophony of sight and sound which was both mesmerizing and thrilling at the same time. Still, it was only nine o'clock, so the only people hanging out in the place were the leftovers from the happy-hour which had started back at four o'clock, which left the die-hard ones, the ones who didn't know when to go home, the ones who were now so drunk anyone they saw who even remotely resembled the people from the outside world who'd made them come to the inside world of happy-hour to forget the outside world were fair game.

"Hey" the drunk slurred.

"Yes?"

"Do I know you?

"No."

"Oh, I thought I knew you."

"Well, you don't."

"Oh, okay, it's just that you look so familiar. Oh, I know. Do you know why you look so familiar?"

I really should've seen it coming but I was new to the place and didn't have a good feeling for the kind of people who frequent nightclubs at the in-between hour of nine so I went along and said...

"No."

"I just left a turd that looks just like you in the toilet."

You see, it wasn't my fault it started but it was my fault it ended.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, George?"

"Nice punch."

"Thanks, George."

"Johnny?"

"Yes, George?"

"Come with me."

We snaked our way through the nightclub until we came to a back door at the rear of the establishment. George knocked once then entered.

"Johnny, me and Ralph have been doing a little talking and he told me something I think you'll find interesting."

"Oh?"

"Yes, go ahead Ralph."

"Well, we were talking about Mr. North and how he was frequenting the nightclub as of late..." he began.

"Uh-huh" I said not sure where he was going.

"... and, well, he wasn't frequenting it alone."

"Uh-huh" I said because I still wasn't sure where he was going with it.

"He always sat down, drank his Bloody Marys and waited for his guest to arrive."

"Uh-huh" I said and nodded in the way the uninformed and ignorant do when acting as though they have a clue what's going on.

"Tell him who his guest was, Ralph" said George.

"Well, like I said, I never got her name. "

"That's okay, tell him what you told me."

"Well, she would come in and sit next to Mr. North and I believe they'd discuss business, or at least she would, but it was kind of obvious Mr. North had other ideas because he'd really down his Bloody Marys while she was here. I mean, it got to the point where we had to stock a whole bunch of those bottles in the cooler in case he showed up..."

"Why did you remember her, Ralph?" George prodded.

"Oh, because she was extraordinarily attractive and had the most amazing eyes I've ever seen."

"What was so amazing about them?" I asked.

"They were purple" he replied.

We were in the back storage room and George was finishing up disposing of Joseph the Werewolf hot-dog vender when something occurred to me.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Why didn't Peter get sick?"

"Huh?"

"Why didn't Peter get sick if he was drinking all those Bloody Marys?"

"Because they were virgin Bloody Marys, Johnny."

Peter North was becoming an enigma to me because who in their right mind would willingly choose to drink a concoction of pureed hamburger toppings without the promise of alcoholic bliss accompaniment?

"George?"

"Yes?"

"You dropped a foot."

The drive back was uneventful except for one thing... direction. It's relatively easy to get turned around in a large city, all you do is make a few rights, a few lefts, and pretty soon you've lost all bearing as to which direction is north. Now, sometimes this is of no concern such as when a city has a tall landmark of some kind, like a mountain which the traveler can use to orient himself or herself accordingly, but Dallas doesn't have a landmark.

"George?"

"Don't ask."

"I've got to."

"Johnny, don't..."

"What direction are we traveling?"

"I... I don't know?"

I sincerely hope any future road-sign designers are taking into consideration the idea of directional markings. It really wouldn't be hard, merely indicate in what direction the road is heading on each particular sign. I don't even think it'd be expensive because what are we really talking about here?

AS USUAL, I HAVE NO IDEA.

The price of, at most, nine letters?

NINE LETTERS FOR WHAT?

As far as I know prisoners are still responsible for making the signs so the labor cost should be pretty minimal. I'm not asking the road-designers themselves because they've already shown their true colors and I don't think making things easier for the commuter is anywhere in their plans but road-sign designers?

OH! STILL ON THE FREEWAY THING, HUH?

Maybe there's hope.

Chapter 18

We arrived back at my apartment around eleven o'clock after taking the scenic tour of North Dallas and were met by the trio of Phillip, Vivian and Trudy as we entered.

"Hey, Johnny, check this out."

"What is it, Phillip?"

"Steve learned a new command."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, watch. Okay, Steve... Burp!"

"Burrrrrp" said Steve.

Bob and Steve were sitting on their purloined spots on my sofa wearing diapers with the expressions of complete indifference on their faces. The fact one or both had been in on the premeditated murder of Peter North did not lend me to see them as anything more than pawns in a game they lost.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Always."

"There's Chinese takeout in the oven."

Chinese takeout is not food; it's dessert dressed up in dinner clothing. If the Chinese give the rest of the world nothing more than their incredible takeout then they can still pat themselves on the back for a job well done. I grabbed one of the cartons of deliciousness and began devouring what was inside before even attempting to discern what it consisted of. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway because in all my years of consuming the sumptuous ingredients I've never once found a flavor wanting.

"Did you two find out anything at the club?" the green-eyed goddess asked.

"Uh-huh" I replied while slurping a noodle.

"What?" she asked with those tasty lips.

"Melissa and Peter had been meeting at Bloody Mary's for months."

Her eyes immediately went cold and she made her way into the living room. I don't know if Phillip had ever made her mad but I'm guessing he didn't for the sole reason he was still breathing.

"Get up!" she demanded.

Bob stood.

"What is your name?"

"Bob Simpson."

"Who is your master?"

Nothing.

"Who is your master?"

Nothing.

The next thing she did ruined any chance I might've had at saving my futon; you know, maybe reupholster the thing, bring it back to life in a way. She tore Bob's head off which left Zombie goo all over so even if I could find a reupholsterer I don't think I could ever sit on the thing again.

"My God!" I said between mouthfuls.

"Mistress?" said Phillip.

"What!"

"Oh, nothing, it can wait" he said which I thought showed shrewd intellect.

"Stand!" she commanded to Steve.

Steve stood.

"What is your name?"

"Steve..."

"Who is your master?"

He lifted his gnarly hand and pointed directly at Vivian.

She told Stevie-boy to sit and walked away to confer with Vivian in my bedroom while Phillip, George and I stood there in a somewhat confused state of disbelief after the red-headed Vampire removed the noggin of the last salesman who ever tried persuading Peter North into changing cleaning supplies.

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What just happened?"

"She tore Bob's head off."

"I saw that. Why did she tear Bob's head off?"

"I have no idea."

"Are you going to ask her?"

"Nope."

"Okay, George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Do you know why she tore Bob's head off?"

"Nope."

"Well, do you think we should put it back on?"

"I'm not doing it."

"Well I'm not either. Uh, Phillip?"

"Don't even ask."

So there we stood, three grown men refusing to replace the thinking stone on the torso of the Zombie. A torso, I might add, which kept reaching up with its hands to feel for its head which was lying face down on the floor in front of my previously impeccable futon. A futon which now had a stain the size of a basketball made by Bob's previously living brain fluids.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

"Hey, Nat, how's it going?" I asked because by then I was pretty much unfazed by visiting extraterrestrials.

"It's going pretty good, Johnny, how are you all...? Whoa! What happened to old Bob?"

"Trudy ripped his head off."

"I can see that, any idea why?"

"Nope."

"Huh? Okay, well, I've got a little bit of information on the old headless Zombie there. Want to hear it?" he said while indicating Bob with a nod of his head.

"Hear what?" came the reply from Vivian who was leading Trudy out of my bedroom to join us.

"The information I found on old Bobby-boy " the detective said.

"Oh goody, what'd you find out" she quipped excitedly.

"That Bob was not exactly the most upstanding citizen in the world. He was in prison for eight of the last nine years and was pronounced dead about three months back."

"Prison?" George asked.

"Uh-huh" Nat answered.

"What was he in prison for?" asked Trudy.

"Arson."

"Arson?" George asked.

"Yep, it seems our headless friend was a fire-bug."

"That doesn't make any sense" said George.

"Why not?" asked Nat.

"Because why would an arsonist show up pretending to be a salesman and help kill Peter?"

"Hold on." I said.

"Yes?" George asked.

"You think Bob was in on it?"

"In on killing Peter? Yes."

"But I thought, well, I guess I thought Bob was just doing what he was told."

"Bob's a Zombie, Johnny, so is Steve..."

"Steve..."

"... and Zombies don't do anything other than basic tasks unless ordered by their controlling Vampire. They also won't do anything they wouldn't have done willingly if they were alive. Since they were there, they were in on it."

"Oh" I said.

"But why would Bob willingly attack Peter?" George asked.

"Maybe, because of why he burned the building down" said the detective.

"Why did he burn the building down?" asked George.

"Because it was the last thing standing between him and millions of dollars."

"Okay, you're losing me, Nat" said George.

"George, the building old Bob there committed to ash was the Reformatory for Wayward Youth."

"The Reformatory...? Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because you own it."

"Oh, yeah, I remember now. Some nutcase burnt the thing down about... Hold on. Bob's the nutcase?"

"Yep."

"And why did he burn it down?" George asked while peering more intently at the fool who lost his head.

"To get what was underneath it."

"What was underneath it?"

"Liquid gold, petroleum, just waiting for the market to wise up and raise its prices so it could be sucked out of the ground and sold to a thirsty population of traveling wayfarers for a nice tidy profit."

"But didn't we rebuild the Reformatory?"

"Yep, but not there. You bought a nice, new, shinier place closer to home. It actually worked out better for the kids because the new place came with a stable and horses the kids can ride and take care of."

"So what does this have to do with Peter's death?"

"Well, I'm guessing it's what you did with the land, George."

"What did we do with the land?"

"You built a prison. You built a prison and ringed it with oil rigs which are this very second pumping out millions of dollars of dinosaur fossil fuel."

"Oh crap" said Phillip.

"But not only that, George, you're also using the prisoners to maintain those rigs and the taxpayers are paying you to do it."

"Oh, no" said Vivian and Trudy.

"Yep, you're really stepping on some pretty big toes here."

"I'm going to kill him! I'm going to dig up his rotting carcass and kill him again!" said George.

"Excuse me, Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What're you all talking about?"

"I'm talking about power, Johnny. What you've stumbled across is the biggest power grab this clan has seen in ages, and I mean ages, because I can't think of a time since the Division when someone has attempted to do what our friends here have done."

"But we didn't know, Nat" exclaimed George.

"Do you really think that's going to matter to them, George?"

"Who is them?" I asked because I was starting to get a little worried and I at least like to know what I'm worried about.

"The Clan Elders" Nat answered.

"What about the Clan Elders?"

"Johnny, I think you need to take a little walk with me, okay?"

"Sure, if it's all right with you guys?" I said as I looked to my new family members.

"Oh it'll be fine with them, Johnny, they're going to need a little time to digest what I just said and you asking a lot of questions would probably get a tad annoying; right guys?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Johnny, we'll be here when you get back" said George.

So me and the bug-eyed, long-necked, green-skinned, molecular-hologram of an Alien from Heaven posing as a detective on Earth departed my apartment leaving behind two Werewolves, two Vampires and two Zombies.

"So, uh, what's going on, Nat?"

"Johnny, our friends in there are playing a power game which is both extremely cunning and immensely dangerous. Have they told about their clan structure?"

"About there being three clans with three families at the top of each?"

"Yes, they like their threes and, staying with the theme, they also organized the power structure of those families in the same way."

"I don't follow?"

"What are the three most necessary things in life, Johnny?"

"Sex, drugs and rock and roll."

"No, not sex, drugs and rock and roll. The three most necessary things in life are food, shelter and security."

"Okay."

"That's how they organized themselves."

"How who organized themselves?"

"The clans. The families which make up the clans are separated according to their unique skills in one of the three necessary things in life; food, shelter or security. In the case of the LeTorque they entered the realm of Shelter whereby they own and manage real estate. Other families specialize in the production of food or the production of weapons or any other subset of those three necessary things. Now, at the top you've got the three respective families of each unique skill which the lower families agreed are the best at what they do. Take a corporation for instance. At the top of the corporation you'll have someone in charge of a specific sphere of influence such as a Director of Finance, Director of Research or any other numerous directors a corporation needs in order to run effectively. Are you following me?"

"I think so. One of the three families at the top is in charge of food, another of shelter and the third of security?"

"Yes, Johnny, good boy. Let's use Shelter as an example. At the top is one ruling family. Now, below them are all of the other families engaged in Shelter whether selling houses, building skyscrapers or managing office towers; it doesn't matter, as long as it comes under the purview of Shelter they're under the family at the top of the ladder called a Clan Elder."

"What if their occupations overlap?"

"Good question, and it's precisely why the three are set up the way they are."

"Huh?"

"Before the Division, there were..."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"What's the 'Division'?"

"It's where the clan members got together and divided themselves according to the necessary things in life. Before, the clans were ruled by whichever family had the most power. Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to judge who has the most power if a family is engaged in a whole variety of different occupations because while one family might be terrible at growing wheat they might be really good at making swords. There was a lot of bloodshed when they were choosing according to overall power because, well, you had to make a persuasive argument about why some guy was such a doofus at one thing and why you were so much better at another. All that name-calling led to a bunch of heads rolling and finally three of the wisest and strongest families got together and proposed they set up a board of trustees, as it were, where three families would rule over the three trades which made up the necessary things in life. Now, as to your question of overlapization..."

"Overlapization?"

"Yeah, I just made that up, so anyway, as to your question of overlapization, it does occur, quite frequently I might add, but the Clan Elders merely decided they would vote on it. If a family is engaged in an occupation whereby they're overlapping into another occupation the Elders vote on which occupation the family will be situated under and designates it so."

"And that works?"

"Yep, it works quite effectively actually."

"What if the family doesn't like the designation?"

"Very astute. Yes, it does happen from time to time because one family might think they have a much better shot at the top job if they were in one field over another and, if so, they can relinquish the occupation which falls under the category they don't want and be reassigned, but it almost never happens."

"Why not?"

"Because the other two top families whose occupations weren't chosen would see it as a possible buildup by the third and unite to destroy the lower family."

"What? Why?"

"The clans are ruled by whichever families receive the most votes, Johnny. The top three vote getters, no matter their occupation, are the Clan Elders."

"But what if, say, no Security family was voted in?"

"Then one of the three families voted in would be in charge of the Security Tribe."

"Would they be any good at the job?"

"No, they probably wouldn't, it would be stupid to put a family in charge of an occupation they were not qualified for and while my friends in there may not be the most brilliant species in the universe they most definitely aren't the dumbest. But the problem solved itself pretty rapidly because those little buggers really do like to split themselves up into smaller, tighter groups. So the three trades rapidly became what defined a family. If a family was in the 'Food Tribe' then they would become intensely loyal only to others in their trade. So anyway, anytime two Clan Elders see a third is increasing its family membership to the point where there's even the slightest hint it could vote in two Elders, the two other tribes rectify the situation."

"And by rectify, you mean...?"

"Assassinations and beheadings."

"My goodness they do a lot of beheading" I said.

"That they do" replied Nat.

"And why is it always beheadings?"

"It's the only way to stop a Superior, well, the quickest and surest way at least."

"Can't they just cut their arms and legs off?"

"They could but it wouldn't last."

"Why not?"

"Because remember how these guys heal. If you cut their leg off they can just jam it back on and in a matter of a minutes they'll be walking again."

"What if they threw the leg into a fire or something?"

"Well, that would work except for one thing."

"What's that?"

"Remember their immune system and how efficient it is?"

"Yes."

"Well that immune system works in two ways; it can either reject something it doesn't view as a positive or it can accept and overpower something it does."

"Huh?"

"Superiors can use the body parts of other species and adapt it to their own."

"Huh?"

"A Werewolf or Vampire who's lost an extremity can attach one from another species if the extremity is of relative size."

"Huh?"

"A Werewolf who lost his leg, Johnny, would rip off a Human's and make it his own."

"Oh."

Parking lot are good places to talk. Maybe it's because of all the fresh air, maybe because you're moving while you're talking, maybe because there's so many new and interesting vehicles parked in them but, whatever the case, they make for good conversation places.

"Nat?"

"Yes?"

"So, um, why were the four of them upset over the prison and oil wells?"

"Because those two things will give them a trilogy and no family has successfully accomplished the feat since the Division was conceived."

"What's a trilogy?"

"It's a blending of the three occupations in such a way there's no clear choice which one is superior."

"But I thought you said the Clan Elders would just vote on it?"

"They would if they could."

"Huh?"

"Johnny, the family you're with is one rung below the Clan Elder, they've been enormously successful in their business and were a real threat to gain a seat on the Counsel if they decided to put it to a vote but Stephanie always resisted. I guess because she wasn't in any rush and they were building their corporation into one giant powerhouse. But Peter, well, I guess he had other plans because what he set up might be the most daring power grab ever."

"What are you talking about?"

"Commercial Property Management is a vastly wealthy enterprise and Peter just took the company and tripled its value; at least it's how the other families might see it."

"Huh?"

"Johnny, what's a prison?"

"A place for housing criminals."

"Uh-huh. And what section of the necessary things in life is the control of prisoners likely to fall under?"

"The Security one?"

"Yes, and what is oil?"

"Fuel?"

"Uh-huh. And what section of the necessary things in life is fuel a part of?"

"I don't know?"

"Yes, you do, under the three choices of Food, Shelter and Security where would you put fuel."

"Probably under Food."

"Good, and what is the current occupation of the LeTorque?"

It dawned on me what he was getting at. Peter had found a way to incorporate all three occupations under one roof with those same occupations overlapping themselves within the simple arraignment. A prison could be viewed under the Security occupation but it also could be viewed under Shelter. The oil rigs could be seen as either Food or Security depending on one's viewpoint.

"But it's only a few wells and one prison."

"The Superiors don't necessarily put much stock in the amount of money a company makes."

"They don't?"

"No, they've been around long enough to see companies rise and fall like the tides. What they view as important is the cleverness of a company, the potential for further success, and I've got to tell you when the other families hear about what Peter North did they might view it as a remarkable and vote-worthy thing."

"They might have voted the LeTorque as Clan Elders of Shelter?"

"No, they might have voted the LeTorque as Clan Elders of all."

"I thought you said they divided themselves into three groups so they wouldn't have one family leading them?"

"No, I said they divided themselves into groups because they couldn't decide on which family was worthy to lead them."

"And you think...?

"I think Peter North was trying to stake a claim as Clan Elder of all."

"Would it have worked?"

"It's quite possible. Actually, I think it was even more than possible, I think it was probable."

"Why?"

"Because they would've seen quite clearly what Peter's real motive was."

"What was that?"

"War... Peter was going to take them to war, Johnny."

Chapter 19

Apartment complexes are all the rage since the housing market plunged and I don't necessarily see them losing any ground in the near future. As civilizations advanced, transportation modernized and what was once only the fancy delusions of exotic dreaming has now become possible for just about anyone with modest means. Transportation has allowed people to visit exotic places and, if they so desire, move there and take up residence. But when people move they need to sell their old home if they owned one or rent it out to some stranger who may or may not be worth the trouble to hassle for rent. So a lot of people are putting off buying a home because they don't necessarily want to make the leap of faith required with a thirty-year mortgage. Apartments fill a void allowing people who aren't sure if they're going to make someplace permanent the opportunity to try it out and, if they don't like it, move away as quickly as possible through breaking their lease by either buying it out or turning in the keys at the office complex and slinking off in the middle of the night. Either way, you're not getting your security deposit back because the apartment complex has no incentive to do so and they're pretty sure they're never going to see you again; so why would they?

WHY WOULD THEY WHAT?

What are you going to do?

I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT?

Hire a thousand dollar lawyer to get your five-hundred dollar deposit back?

OH, OKAY, I'VE GOT YOU NOW.

"My God, what's that smell?" I asked.

"I don't know but it seems like it's coming from your place" Nat replied.

We raced up the remaining flight of stairs to my apartment after we'd decided enough time had elapsed for the group of four to get a handle on what they were up against.

"Hello! What's going on!" I yelled as I burst through the door and was immediately hit with a stronger version of the horrid stench.

"Out of the way!" yelled Trudy as the she and Vivian raced out the door I entered.

"What's wrong, girls?" Nat asked as the two lovely vixens of Vampirism raced by holding their cute little respective noses.

"It's Bob!" Vivian yelled as she proceeded down the stairs at a rather remarkable rate for a woman of such small stature.

"What about him?" Nat yelled at her back.

"He's on fire!" we heard as she hit the ground floor and started inhaling large gulps of fresh, Dallas air.

"He's what?" I remember asking at the exact same time I heard a loud splash coming from my bathroom.

"It's okay! He's out now!" I heard Phillip's voice come from the same place as the splash.

"Watch out for his arms, Phillip!" George's voice yelled as I rounded the corner to enter my bedroom adjoining the bathroom.

"What? Where are his...? Oh, so you want to play rough do you?" Phillip answered as I finally entered my room and saw...

"Oh... hey, Johnny."

Phillip standing over Bob's headless torso holding its arms behind its back as the thing kicked its legs like a two-year old throwing a tantrum. George was standing in the shower.

"Hey, Johnny, um... yeah, we had a little mishap with old Bob there" George explained.

"A mishap?"

"Yeah, I think that's what you'd call it; wouldn't you agree, Phillip?"

"Yeah, a mishap sounds about right, George."

"What the heck are you two talking about?"

"Well, I think Phillip can explain it better than me."

"No I can't."

"Would one of you please tell me what's going on?"

"Okay, it's like this. We were discussing what we were going to do, you know, with the whole prison and oil-rig thing and, well, we forget to keep an eye on Bob so we think he might've fished around long enough to find his head and then, I guess, he got a little confused as to where he was going..."

"Because he didn't really have his head on straight" chimed in Phillip.

"Yeah, so we think he made a wrong turn at the kitchen and sort of put his head down for a second..."

"Probably to orient himself better" piped Phillip again.

"Uh-huh, to orient himself and, well, he put his head on the burner, Johnny."

"He what?"

"He put his head on the burner; you know, the one keeping the egg-drop soup warm" said George.

"It was probably an honest mistake" said Phillip.

"Uh-huh, you know the old guy's been through a lot lately what with getting his head ripped off twice so it's probably not a surprise that he would get a little... um... what's the word...?"

"Confused?" Phillip said.

"Yeah, I guess confused about covers it. Johnny, Bob got confused and accidently caught his head on fire."

"He caught his head on fire?"

"Yep, you know it could probably happen to anyone under the circumstances considering..."

"He... he... caught... fire?"

"Yeah, yeah he did. He lit his head on fire and spilled all of the egg-drop soup. I'm really sorry about that."

"Me too" said Phillip.

"Where's his head?" I asked.

"In the toilet" Phillip answered.

"In the what?"

"In the toilet. We would've put it out in the kitchen but Bob's torso grabbed its head and started running around like... like a guy with his head cut off" explained George.

I moved further into the bathroom to stand next to Phillip so I could get a look into the porcelain bowl and see what'd happened to the unfortunate man.

"It's in here?" I asked pointing to the toilet.

"Yes, it was the only place I could think to throw it in under the circumstances" said Phillip.

I looked down at the egg-white cylinder, lifted the lid and saw the head of Bob staring back at me in confusion. His eyes were darting left and right while his mouth kept opening and closing like an earthbound gold fish.

"Is he still in there?" asked Phillip.

"Where else would he be?" I replied.

"I don't know? It's just..."

"It's just what?"

"Well, I flushed him a couple of times."

"You flushed the man?"

"Yeah, he was spitting toilet water at me."

"Sigh."

Yep, that's right, I sighed. I'd gotten to the point where the severed, scorched, drowned and flushed head of a former colleague would cause only that smallest of reactions.

Nat got a call he was needed back at the station and left so I walked around the apartment to get a better grasp of the situation. In the living room I found one of my fold-out chairs lying on the floor and the newspapers and magazines which once sat on it scattered around. There were cups lying on the kitchen floor and whatever liquid had been in those cups was also on the ground, on the bottom drawers, on the refrigerator, and anywhere else liquid could possibly go when a headless Zombie holding his flaming cranium decided to make a break for it. The egg-drop soup covered the entire range-top and my toaster oven, which I'd picked off the floor those many hours ago, was now back at its rightful place in my sink. Steve was still sitting on the couch.

The fire alarms hadn't gone off because I'd removed those ear-shattering noisemakers after the first time they decided to announce their presence to me about one month after I moved in. I knew I wasn't supposed to and I wouldn't have if there were any way to shut the things down after I'd discerned there was no fire and they were doing their screeching-beeping thing for no reason whatsoever. The fire safety people will undoubtedly be upset with me but I ask them this; where's the manual override? And not the stupid little button which shuts the unbelievably loud sound off for two minutes or so. No, the one which says there is no fire and the things are just malfunctioning. And why do they always malfunction in the middle of the night?

HUH? ARE YOU ASKING ME?

Is there a timer in there?

A TIMER IN WHERE?

Are the fire-safety people mad if you don't donate to their charity?

OKAY, YOU'RE JUST DOING THE RHETORICAL THING AGAIN, AREN'T YOU?

If that's the case, tell us! You'll get more donations than a Vegas call-girl. Okay, okay, I'm sure it was the batteries but, then again, I have my doubts; why?

I DON'T KNOW?

Because they all go off at the same time! What are the odds of that?

SLIM?

I use my TV remote about, oh, a million times more than my fire alarms and those batteries never go bad at the exact same time. Are you telling me one fire alarm is talking to another fire alarm?

MAYBE.

Okay, well, that actually makes a little bit of sense.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"I'm sorry about your apartment."

"It's okay, it wasn't your fault."

"Well, yes, actually it was."

"Huh?"

"I pulled his head off, remember."

"Don't worry about it. I wasn't getting my security deposit back anyway."

"Don't be so sure."

"Huh?"

"We own this apartment complex."

"You what?"

"We own this complex; we own hundreds of these complexes."

Land is the great equalizer among the wealthy for the simple reason it is finite. Unlike every other product land has no competition. Fuel can be purchased as either petroleum, natural gas, coal or any other of the rapidly expanding substitutes. Food is so abundant and varied there are cottage industries designed to actually make money off eating less of it. Gold has silver, houses have condos and guns have knives... but land? Land has land.

"What was Peter thinking?" George said.

"We know what he was thinking, George, he was thinking we could be the Elders" replied Vivian.

"But Stephanie would never have allowed it" he said.

"That's probably why he met with Melissa when he did, because she's hibernating" she said.

"Well, what do we do now?" he asked, and nobody responded.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Yes, Sweetie?" Vivian responded.

"Where exactly do you stand right now?"

"Well, Sweetie, we're kind of in limbo. Technically, we're still in charge of our company but since we can't get into our offices without a fight, and we can't win the fight because they'll just play defense, it's only a matter of time before whichever family now residing in our offices will make a claim of ownership. Once they do the Clan Elders will have no choice but to accept their claim and relegate us unattached."

"Why would the Clan Elders accept their claim? They basically stole it from you."

"Because it showed a great deal of planning and preparation to do what they did. They attacked us in our own home, killed one of our Werewolves and occupied our occupation. No Superior could overlook the brash eloquence of what they did because it doesn't matter how they did it, only whether they were able to pull it off or not."

"So the ends justify the means?"

"The ends always justify the means."

"What happens next?"

"Well, we either accept our fate and start to rebuild our family, find a way to remove whichever family has taken what was ours, or prove to the Counsel they cannot handle the duties they stole."

"Do you think it's possible?"

"What?"

"Proving to the counsel they can't handle their duties?"

"No, I'm afraid not. We set up Commercial Properties to be virtually impregnable to decline."

"How could you do that?"

"We own the land the properties sit on."

"So?"

"So, land is the most valuable commodity there is, Sweetie."

"Okay, but doesn't land drop in value?"

"Sometimes, in the short term, but as long as the population keeps growing land will keep its value."

"Because it's a limited resource, right?"

"Exactly. Land is a limited resource people must have in order to survive. Since they must have it they must pay for it and since we own it we get to decide what they pay."

"But couldn't someone buy land near yours and rent it out cheaper?"

"Sure, and if they have the resources we've built up and can lower their prices long enough, they get to win."

"Huh?"

"Sweetie, if someone comes in and tries to undercut us then we're going to undercut them. Now, we've got a significant amount of money in the bank so we could probably keep it up for a couple of decades if we wanted to and when the other person decides enough is enough we'll buy his land and raise our prices back up. Remember, land doesn't go anywhere, it doesn't run out and it never goes out of style so we'll recoup our losses and eventually restock our coffers."

"You don't think proving they're incompetent and can't handle their duties is possible?"

"Oh, anything is possible, I'm just saying it's not probable."

"So, you either need to remove the other family or accept your fate and become... what did you call it?"

"Unattached; it means we'd have no affiliation with any occupation and would need to choose one."

"And I don't suppose they'd just let you choose the same occupation and start near the top again? I mean, you've already proven you're up to the task."

"No, they wouldn't. Oh, we could choose Shelter again, sure, but we'd start at the bottom just like every other unattached family does."

"Does it take a long time to get to the top?"

"It can take forever, Sweetie."

We decided to call it a night and I was surprised I wasn't tired for I'd been up for over thirty-six hours but felt like I could go on indefinitely. Phillip explained because I was getting enough food my cells were perfectly fine and my body didn't need to slow down to charge back up. The girls took my bedroom and I didn't even need to do the whole 'please take it, I insist' thing which is a socially annoying nonsense developed for some reason or another, I guess to make the guest look magnanimous in declining what the host is offering only to relent after the host 'insists' even though everyone knows it's a charade and they were going to take the thing anyway. I think a good way to put an end to the time-wasting exercise is to do exactly what the girls did and just say 'Okay' when I offered my room, which left me a bit perplexed as to what to do next because I honestly didn't have a single other blanket or pillow in the place except for the ones residing on my bed. The pillows on the futon were out of the question. So there we were, three guys on the floor, one Zombie on the couch and another in my closet, duct-taped so his torso couldn't move, with his head in a decorative gift-bag I'd received from someone I didn't remember containing a gift I had no recollection of for an occasion which slipped my mind.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Trudy said you owned this apartment complex."

"That's true."

"Well then, I've got a little confession to make."

"We already know, Johnny."

"Know what?"

"That this isn't your apartment."

It's actually not hard to fall off the face of the Earth; just stop paying your bills, quit driving and sublease an apartment. If you lose your job the first two naturally take care of themselves but the third needs a little help and a pinch of luck. My luck came from the fact I have a last name shared by about ten million others and the help I received came by way of a friend of mine who'd decided a life of crime was an attainable goal. He was wrong, of course, but it didn't stop him from giving it his best shot which got him arrested and sent to prison before his lease was up on the brand new apartment I decided to take over from him while he was acquainting himself with the breed of life who go by the names of Pit-bull, Bull-dog and Ice-pick. His first name was Jason and his last was the same as mine so it was actually quite easy to take over his place by paying with money-orders instead of checks. You might think the people receiving those money-orders would maybe check the names, put two and two together and surmise I was not Jason but you'd be wrong for two reasons. First, you don't necessarily need a legible signature on a money order for the other party too cash it and second, the other party could care less who sent the money-order as long as the blessed thing cleared whatever financial institution they sent it to. Why would my friend allow me to assume his apartment and take the chance I would burn the place down you ask?

BECAUSE HE WAS A STUPID CRIMINAL?

Because he was in prison and knew once he got out he was as likely to find the Abominable Snowman as he was to get any apartment complex not located in the deepest slums of Dallas to rent to him. How did I pay the rent without a job?

PROSTITUTION?

I sold my car.

"How did you know it wasn't my apartment?" I asked.

"You told Vivian your address when you first met her" George replied.

"I did?"

"Uh-huh."

"She really is quite persuasive, you know."

"Oh yeah, I know" he replied.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What's to keep Steve..."

"Steve..."

"... from attacking us in the middle of the night?"

"I never gave him his teeth back."

"Oh, goodnight, George."

"Goodnight, Johnny."

"Goodnight, Phillip."

"Goodnight, Johnny."

"Goodnight, Steve."

"Steve..."

Chapter 20

The next morning began with my usual fare of coffee and more coffee. I'd never been a big breakfast eater even after the breakfast people kept repeating their unending mantra of it being the most important meal of the day. Why?

BECAUSE IT GIVES YOU ENERGY.

If we've got an obesity problem in this country wouldn't it make sense to skip the easiest skippable meal?

NOT REALLY, YOU SEE...

Besides, I like to sleep after meals and I hate to cook. Why would I wake up and do the one event which makes me want to turn around and hit the sack again?

WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO HIT A SACK?

But it didn't mean I would ignore a meal if it were available.

"Foods up!" yelled the scrumptious red-haired Vampire.

"Thank God! I'm starving" said George.

"Yummy! Pancakes!" cheered Vivian.

"Good" said I.

Phillip said nothing because he'd been sitting at the card table with a fork in hand salivating like Pavlov's dog for the previous ten minutes. Vivian and Trudy had awoken at the unimaginable hour of five to run up to the local supermarket and pick up the ingredients necessary to make the golden-brown fluffy circles of everything good. The fact they had to purchase not only the ingredients but also the cookware and utensils necessary to make and eat said ingredients did nothing to stop their enthusiasm for doing the job and getting it done right. I love Vampires! And I love maple syrup! Who would've thought tree sap would be so tasty?

BEARS, BEES, SQUIRRELS, BIRDS...

Shut up.

"So what's the plan?" I asked with enthusiasm because the emotion is very contagious.

"The same as before" replied George.

"Oh" I replied as my enthusiasm died.

"It's going to work, Johnny" Phillip said.

"I know, it's just..."

"It's just what?" asked Vivian.

"It's just, well, I haven't done anything like this before and I hope I don't let you all down."

"Oh, Sweetie, don't worry about it, you'll be fine; and if you fail we'll all be dead so it won't matter anyway" she replied with a smile.

That pep talk did not help one bit.

We finished eating and cleaned our plates which consisted of throwing them away because they were plastic. If plastic is made from petroleum and petroleum is where we get gas then wouldn't it make sense not to make things out of plastic so gas would cost like, what, ten cents a gallon?

SOUNDS REASONABLE.

Unless plastic is just a byproduct in the production of gas. If that's the case those guys are making some serious coin!

"Okay, were heading out" said George as he and Vivian made for the door.

"Tell Nat I said 'Hi'" said Trudy.

"Okay, we should be back in a couple of hours, call us you need anything" said Vivian.

They left to meet up with the Detective and find out more of what they could about the land deal involving Peter North, Bob Simpson and Steve What's-his-name. They couldn't do it at my place because I had none of the equipment necessary for information gathering such as a computer, home phone or even a telephone book. I, like the rest of my generation, no longer used anything other than a cellphone because, quite frankly, home phones became nothing more than an inconvenient annoyance about a decade before. The home phone companies messed it up and they've got no one to blame but themselves. If your product does nothing more than allow total strangers the opportunity to bug your customers at the most inappropriate times then the product is destined for the junk heap. Maybe it's because they saw the future and realized they would no longer be necessary so they made the most money they could in the time they had left. Maybe it's because they didn't judge Human reaction correctly. Either way, once they let the telemarketers in, they were out.

"Okay, Johnny, come with me" the red-headed, green-eyed Aphrodite said.

"Aw, do I have to?" I replied like a thirteen year old spoiled brat.

"No, Johnny, you don't have to, it's up to you" she replied.

Now, we all know it was not up to me. Okay, intellectually one could say it was up to me but the reality of the situation was the opposite. There was absolutely no way I was going to tell a women who looked like Trudy I was not going into a room with her and let her do whatever it was she wanted with me. I wasn't made that way. I was made in the image of Average Man and Average Man will do exactly as Beautiful Woman wants even if Average Man thinks Beautiful Woman is a complete lunatic.

"Okay, let's get this over with" I said and saw out of the corner of my eye Phillip grinning because he knew exactly what the reality of the situation was.

"Okay, sit right here" Trudy said and I complied.

She pulled out her necessary equipment and began working on me.

"Is this going to hurt?"

"No, it's not going to hurt."

"Is it going to take a long time?"

"Probably."

"Then can you tell me more about Yin and Yang while you're doing it?"

"Sure, where was I?"

"Yin met Merry Li."

"Oh, yeah right. Well, this is actually kind of the good part of the story because... do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I believe it can happen, sure."

"Well, it happened with Yin and Merri Li. From what I hear it was a remarkable set of circumstances which set up what was to be the greatest retribution my kind has ever witnessed because Merri Li wasn't originally a member of Second Clan, Johnny, she was actually born Merry of First Clan, an illegitimate twin Vampire of the Elder Wolf and a Vamp looking to make her way up the hierarchy."

"An illegitimate twin?"

"Yes, she was one of the daughters of a Wolf and Vampire who were not mated. The Vampire in question was named Joan and she was extremely ambitious but she had no wish to bide her time and work her way up the ladder to Matriarch so she chose a different route; a root she would later regret but a route nonetheless."

"What route did she choose?"

"She chose to take a Wolf who was already mated and conspired to remove the other Vampire and take her place at the top of the clan. This was before the Division and single family rule was still imposed. Nat told you about that right?

"What, the Division?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, he told me."

"Well this was right before then and Joan tried to speed up her plans to be Matriarch but, unfortunately for her, she misjudged the Werewolf's motives and got herself killed."

"How did she get killed?"

"She was burned at the stake."

"Hold on! Are we talking Joan of Arc here?"

"Yes, have you heard of her?"

"Of course I've heard of her, everyone's heard of her. Why would you think...? Hold on. Have you been talking to Phillip?"

"Of course, Johnny, we're mated, we always talk."

"And he told you...?"

"Yes, and if it's any consolation I didn't think a Liberal Arts degree would become worthless either."

"Thank you. You know, they really should explain it to incoming freshman."

"I agree, it's only the correct thing to do. So anyway, Joan had Merry and went to challenge for the Alpha's hand in mate-hood..."

"The Alpha?"

"The Werewolf who impregnated Joan; Merry's father."

"Okay, go ahead."

"So anyway, Joan went to challenge the Alpha's mate but was rebuffed when she arrived."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"I thought you said Werewolves and Vampires mated for life?"

"I did."

"Then what's with this 'challenging the Alpha's mate for his hand' thing?"

"We are mated for life but it doesn't mean we cannot take another mate if our mated dies."

"Huh?"

"If a Werewolf sires two young from two different Vampires he may choose to be mated with one or the other, or he may choose to mate with neither, either way he has to choose to be mated. Now, since our society is Matriarchal in nature a Werewolf would be a fool not to choose a mate because then he would find himself a Beta and never work his way up the hierarchy. The same is true of a Vampire."

"Why? It's a Matriarchy isn't it? Doesn't that mean Vampires rule?"

"Yes, it does, but remember the Matriarch of a family is the mate of the Alpha Wolf, a Wolf who is chosen by the other Wolves in the family so, in essence, the Matriarch is chosen by the Wolves."

"Okay."

"So, when Joan came up to challenge for the Alpha's matehood two things could have happened; he could have accepted Joan or he could have kept his mate."

"Why didn't his mate just kick the cheater out?"

"Who, the Alpha?"

"Of course, the Alpha. Why didn't his mate just kick him out or get the other Wolves to kill him or something? She was the Matriarch after all."

"She could've but then she would've been giving up what he had to offer."

"What did he have to offer?"

"A family and the Matriarch itself. Remember, the Matriarch is the mate of the Alpha Wolf so if she chose to kick him out she would no longer be mated to the Alpha, an Alpha which led the family in power at the time. So, in essence, if she chose to rid herself of him she would be giving up her position of power, something she did not wish to do."

"So the Alpha held all the cards?"

"Yes and no. You see, he was still mated so he could not pick Joan unless his mate died."

"What?"

"Joan would need to kill the Alpha's mate if she wished to take her place."

"That's barbaric!"

"Yes, it is."

"Hold on, why didn't The Alpha just kill his mate?"

"Because it's forbidden. Vampires are too important for the survival of the species to allow Wolves the right to kill them. Every Wolf in the clan would've gone after the Alpha if he had attempted it."

"So what happened?"

"The Alpha spurned Joan, Joan became furious and led an uprising against him, he retaliated by accusing Joan of being a witch and Joan was burned at the stake by the very peasants she'd been leading in the revolt."

"What?"

"This was the beginning of the middle ages where every peasant was living hand to mouth in horrible situations so Joan, a little mad and justifiably so, took advantage of the situation and began leading a revolution to overthrow those in power which, unfortunately for her, consisted of quite a few Superiors who decided it was bad enough they were being attacked for their prosperity but it was even worse being attacked by one of their own. So they allowed her to win a couple of battles..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

"Yes?"

"Why would they allow her to win a couple of battles?"

"To set the stage for her defeat. Understand the time we're talking about; everyone was walking around looking for the boogeyman to blame for all their ills. Well, what's better than a witch if you can't find a boogeyman? And what better way to prove she's a witch than to let her win some battles against impossible odds and then plant the seeds she did so with supernatural help? It didn't help her cause she went transparent a couple of times so when it finally appeared as though she was actually going to pull it off and the peasants were happy because they'd proven to the mean old rich people they needed more food and were willing to do something about it the Superiors got together, gave the peasants what they wanted and planted the seeds of doubt the person leading their rabble was, in reality, a witch who'd achieved her glory through evil ways."

"And the peasants bought it?"

"Yes, and burned Joan where she stood."

"'That's awful!"

"What?"

"That they would burn her for being a witch."

"Well, she was a Vampire. They may have gotten the classification a bit wrong but they were right she was employing supernatural abilities."

"Oh, yeah, I kind of forgot about the Vampire thing. So what happened to Merry and her twin?"

"They were sent off to Second Clan to be raised as their own?"

"Why?"

"Because they were Vampires and therefore forbidden to be killed"

"Who said anything about killing? Why didn't they raise them in one of the other clan families living there?"

"Because Isabella forbid it."

"What? Who? Hold on. Isabella Satan?"

"Yes, Johnny, Matriarch of First Clan."

"Then the Alpha was...?"

"Lucifer Satan; Alpha Wolf and Elder of First Clan."

Dallas has lived with a reputation it no longer resembles; a bunch of white cowboys walking around with six-shooters on their hips punching cattle. I myself have never seen cattle within the confines of Dallas but maybe I've been looking in the wrong places. Maybe they're hiding low, biding their time, until they can sneak out and exact a little revenge on the men in the ten-gallon hats who apparently were using them as sparring partners. I also haven't seen a lot of strapped-down firearms while wandering the great city. Maybe they too are in hiding, although why you'd need to hide if you're carrying a loaded weapon is beyond me. Maybe they're afraid of the cops, who probably don't like to see cow-assaulting, ten-gallon-hat wearing men walking around their fair city looking like John Wayne in a spaghetti western. I don't know. But I do know I've seen white men... and white women... and black, brown, yellow and whatever other color Humans can come up to differentiate themselves. Dallas is one of the most integrated cities in the world and it's because of one very important thing; commerce. Dallas was built on the economy and if there is anything which is true it's people of all races and genders like the color of money. So they come to Dallas because it offers what many other cities do not; a place where there is no inherent culture except for commerce. So if you produce commerce you are more than welcome to join in. Why does Dallas have the reputation it does?

PROBABLY BECAUSE OF THAT STUPID TELEVISION SHOW.

Because we were on the wrong side of a war and we lost. We chose the slavery side and have been living with the ignorant decision for generations. Do we have bigotry?

I HEAR YOU DO.

You're dang poopin' we do! What big city doesn't?

GOOD POINT.

Doesn't make everyone down there a moron.

"Wow! Looking good, Johnny!"

"Shut up, Phillip."

"Did you do something with your hair, Johnny?"

"Shut up, George."

"I think you look good, Sweetie."

"I don't know how to respond to that, Vivian."

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"Good luck."

Vivian and I were trying out something new the great city of Dallas had recently begun to offer; public transportation. We were riding the rail-line which had opened near my apartment about six months before and were taking it to our downtown destination. We figured even if we missed our drop-off spot we would still be able to beat the time it would take for George to do so by truck and freeway so we paid our money, hopped aboard the light-rail train, sped away and sat back to watch the view as I peppered Vivian with about a thousand questions about what I should do or say if confronted with a question I had no ability whatsoever to answer.

"What if they ask my name?"

"Just smile."

"What if they ask what I'm doing there?"

"Just smile and give them a card."

"What if they threaten to shoot me?"

"Just smile, give them a card and run away."

"Thanks for all the helpful advice there, Vivian."

"You're welcome, Sweetie."

The light rail we were travelling on was a new concept for Dallas because the city had never really tried to do anything different than build more freeways in order to deal with the problem of urban congestion. Dallas' population exploded around the same time the interstate highway system was being built so the city merely used what the federal government was providing for free and grew up around the confounded pathways of tourist torture. Now, the good thing about Dallas at the time was it was abundant in the one resource necessary for those concrete raceways; land. Dallas had land available for its expansion in any direction and, if it chose to do so, could easily have grown to be one of the largest cities in the world but about the same time the interstate highway system was being built another, somewhat related item came into play; suburbia. The interstates allowed people who wished to use the abundant resources of Dallas for their occupational and recreational pleasure the opportunity to do so without the added inconvenience of paying for it. Now they could travel to work at a central location where their productivity could remain high because they were surrounded by other businesses they either worked with or sought to learn from and return home at night to a community which didn't need to burden itself with the costs associated with having businesses in their midst's. They didn't need a whole lot of roads, they didn't need a large police force, they didn't need a bunch of firemen and they sure didn't need a hospital when they had one a mere twenty minutes away by freeway.

Okay, Dallas should've been forward thinking in their view of what the future would entail, but it wasn't, so instead of annexing the land around it and paying the farmers and ranchers the blackmailingly large sums of money they demanded for their acres of dry grass and dirt, Dallas allowed some downright ingenious private developers to come along and give those farmers and ranchers just about anything they wanted because they knew the weary workers of Dallas would happily fork out a tidy sum of money for the privilege of living as far away as possible from the growing population of immigrants and laborers who were flowing into the city daily. Those suburban communities grew into towns and eventually cities and they are what make up the bulk of the population people imagine when they think of Dallas today. Now, please don't think I look poorly on the people of suburbia for doing what they did for it was, after all, the intelligent thing to do. I mean, why pay for a hospital if you can use your neighbor's for free?

I WOULDN'T.

I wouldn't either. So the governing counsel of Dallas either couldn't or wouldn't pay for annexation so the outside suburbs grew and voted themselves cities with the ability to tax their citizens for the use of police, firemen and roadways. Uh-huh, the exact thing the people were running away from was following them there; other people.

"We're here, Sweetie!"

"I hate this idea."

"But it'll work."

"Doesn't mean I can't still hate the idea."

It is a vast and varied group who make up the population of Dallas but, by far, the largest growing sector comes from those of the Southern Hemisphere. It kind of makes sense since they share a southern border and all and, I've got to say, I'm looking forward to whatever culinary delights the new neighbors from down the way are bringing with them. But they don't only have Mexicans and El Salvadorans and Venezuelans, no, they also have a wide variety of people from other parts of the world.

"Vivian?"

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"If this doesn't work...?"

"It'll work ."

"Yes, but if it doesn't would you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Johnny, what?"

"Would you please look up whoever was my guidance counselor in college and punch them in the face for me?"

"You got it, Sweetie, now let's get in there and catch us some bad guys."

Chapter 21

Many people assume because they are in what is sometimes referred to as 'The Bible Belt' most everyone down those parts is of the Christian faith. Now, they definitely do hold mostly to the 'Word of God' written lo' those many years ago but, like I said before, they've gotten a whole boatload of brand new immigrants and they brought with them their own cultural ways; different culinary delights, different accents and different clothing styles.

"Good morning, Ma'am, can I help you?"

I nodded and handed him my card.

"Oh, it's a buy-one get-one free gift card. Is this for me?"

I nodded.

"Why thank you" the security guard behind the desk in the lobby of the tower housing Commercial Property Management said.

I was wearing what I believe is called a saran, or burka, or whatever it is you call the full robe including head scarf some women from the Middle and Far East wear. It was blue, it was hot, and it was perfect for my undercover persona of an aspiring entrepreneur handing out buy-one get-one free coupons to promote her new Indonesian-Australian restaurant. I was completely covered except for my eyes and hands and it was those two body parts Trudy had applied make-up to in order to change me from a hairy ape into an exotic woman from overseas. The only thing she couldn't change was my voice but we overcame it through the use of the coupons and the universal sign language every foreigner uses in order to get their point across.

"Oh, you want to hand these out?" he asked.

A whole bunch of pointing and gesturing until the poor sap finally guesses correctly.

"Well..." he began and I could tell he wasn't all too sure he could allow someone to hand out meal vouchers in his lobby so I did the only thing I could think of to get him to come around to my side of things and let me hand out my papers promising low-cost tasty tidbits; I put my hands together in the 'Please?' position and silently begged.

"...I guess so; but I can only allow it in the lobby, okay?"

I nodded my head and bowed a couple of times to show I understood what he said and appreciated his support then I stood up straight, turned around, and began chasing down every one of the unsuspecting people roaming the lobby at nine in the morning to hand them my coupons. Now, I hope none of those people ever tried to find my restaurant because it didn't exist. George and Vivian merely had them printed up at one of the thousands of copying places hanging on by the tips of their fingers since the advent of the internet and its amazing array of easy, one-stop shopping which included everything copier related when they visited Nat.

"Oh, hello, Ma'am. You want me to take one of those? Okay, thank you very much."

Was what I heard from just about every person as I went about thrusting my fake documents of Philippian-Australian cuisine into their receiving hands. I was actually having a pretty good time because, for some reason or another, everyone was exceedingly polite to me. Maybe it was the fact I was posing as a woman, maybe because I was wearing the eastern equivalent of a nun's habit or maybe it was because I was impersonating the kind of individual Dallas wants to attract to its great city; entrepreneurial go-getters. But it was probably because I was giving away half-price meal tickets.

I had sized up a couple of businessmen in suits as my next potential customers and was making my way toward them along the south side wall when I heard...

"Pssst."

...and stopped dead in my tracks.

"Pssst, Johnny, it's me" came the invisible voice from the wall to my left.

"Vivian?"

"Of course it's Vivian, who else would it be?"

"I don't know? It's just, you know, you kind of freaked me out right then."

"Sorry, but, Sweetie, I need you to slow down just a little bit."

"Huh?"

"The coupons, I need you to hold onto a few of those."

"But those guys are perfect customers, Vivian, look at them; blue suits, red ties. They're exactly the type of people we want to frequent Phill-Aussie-fries."

"Phill-Aussie-fries?"

"Yeah, I kind of gave the place a name; you know, make it sound more authentic and everything. I went with the basics, just combined..."

"I know what you did, Johnny."

"What do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

"What do you think about the name? I was thinking about calling it Aussipeans but I couldn't figure out how to spell it. Should I put a hyphen in or..."

I stopped talking because I heard a quick intake of breath.

"Vivian?" I whispered.

"Shhh" I heard back.

I shushed because it's what one does when an invisible Vampire tells you to shush and I was going to look in the direction she was looking except I couldn't see her so I had no clue as to what direction it would be, so I turned my head and saw... a Werewolf.

It's weird how you all hide in plain sight. You're so big you can't possibly be missed but you seem to have this ability to blend in with your surroundings. In this Werewolf's case he managed to make it all the way to the security guard's desk without me seeing him do so. He was talking to the nice guard who'd been kind enough to let me hand out my promotional coupons for Phill-Aussie-fries and he had his back to me so I couldn't see his face but the sheer size of the man was enough to qualify him as Wolf; so I stood there, staring at his back when all of a sudden I noticed the security guard nodding his head and pointing his finger at me.

"Oh crap."

"Just be cool, Sweetie."

"Oh crap."

"Okay, he's coming this way so just remain calm..."

"Oh crap."

"...and remember; don't say a word."

The goliath covered the distance of the vast lobby in two steps and stood before me as I did my best imitation of a petrified immigrant lady handing out two-for-one coupons in order to promote the newest taste-bud sensation to take the Americas by storm; Phill-Aussie-fries.

"Ma'am?"

I said not a word, just stood there staring across the lobby towards the two men in business suits who'd appreciate a little koala and grub-worm shish-kabob while the Wolf stood looming over my right shoulder.

"Ma'am?"

I refused to acknowledge his presence, even intending so much as to walk away from him and give those two hard working businessmen the coupons they so readily deserved but was thwarted in my actions by the Wolf who moved to stand directly in front of me.

"Ma'am?"

I looked up into the eyes of the beast and prepared for the worst.

"Are these your coupons?" he asked indicating a coupon I guess he got from the security guard or someone else because I surely would've remembered if I'd given him one.

I nodded my head in acceptance, yes, those were indeed my coupons and saw something flash ever so slightly over his right shoulder as I prepared to be disrobed and eaten for my part in the longest running conflict the world had ever known when...

"Do you have any more?" he asked.

... I was stunned speechless. I had fully prepared myself for the death which awaited me but instead was being treated with the kindness and courtesy an entrepreneurial restaurant owner from the South China Seas deserved.

I nodded my head and reached into my pocket to pull out some more of my precious coupons when I noticed the arrival of the elevator, an arrival signaled by a bell, and then the doors opened to reveal...

"Oh crap."

... Melissa.

"What did you say?" the Wolf asked.

I tried not to say anything but knew the cat was out of the bag because my voice could not have been mistaken for a woman's. He was beginning to peer at me more intently but that wasn't what I was really worried about, no, what I was really worried about was Melissa who was staring at me from across the lobby like she knew me, staring at me in the way people do when they know they recognize someone and are trying to draw it out of their memory banks. Then her eyes opened in realization followed by her lips parting to begin issuing my death sentence when...

"Run, Johnny!"

... a knife appeared and severed the Werewolf's throat; severed it so cleanly, in fact, it was able to be ripped from his shoulders and carried away. How do I know this?

BECAUSE YOU WERE THERE?

Because as I was running for my life I looked over my shoulder and saw the Wolf's head following close behind in the invisible arms of the Vampire Vivian who saved my life.

Okay, invisible is the wrong word to use because it implies the person is clear and that's not what she was; she was opaque. As we ran down the streets of Dallas her appearance kept shimmering and changing according to the background scenery. One second she was white as the walls of the lobby housing Commercial Property Management Incorporated and the next, she was a shade of dark blue as we raced past one of the mirrored skyscrapers which stood as a monument to the use of glass as a building material. She really would've been able to run right past people without them noticing if it weren't for one thing.

"Oh my God!"

"Holy...!"

"Was that a head?"

The bloody head of the deceased Werewolf she refused to drop. We ran straight, we turned left, we turned right and I probably would've kept running all the way to Oklahoma if Vivian hadn't yelled...

"Stop!"

... so I stopped and turned around in the direction of her voice to see her vague outline against the beige wall she was leaning against, a vague outline without garments because clothing doesn't help one when they're trying to blend into the background by using their skin's natural pigment abilities, so I could just about see her au natural and was doing my best to appear nonchalant when...

"Give me your robe."

"What?"

"Give me your robe, Sweetie."

"My robe?"

"Yes."

"But... but..."

I couldn't think of a good reason not to and I blame myself to this day for not having more foresight and imagination. I handed her my robe and she put it on, reached into its pocket and pulled out her cellphone she told me to hold before we entered the Tower of Death as I like to call it.

"George, we're at the corner of Houston and Fifth" she said and hung up.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Vivian?"

"Could you go through that dumpster and find a bag for me please?" she asked while pointing at the trash receptacle.

"Um, sure, but why?"

"I need something to put Daniel in" she responded while lifting the bodiless Werewolf.

The ride back to my apartment was a strange mixture of serenity and adrenaline. I'd just run for my life after impersonating a small businessperson and witnessing the beheading of yet another Werewolf but was now seated in the rear of the pickup truck while George and Phillip rode in front leaving me, once again, with the two Vampires of my dreams.

"It was Daniel?" asked George.

"Uh-huh" replied Vivian.

"Man, he's had a tough time lately" he said.

"Yeah, getting your head cut off does that to a person" I added.

"No, Johnny, not that."

"Huh?"

"Daniel lost his mate about a year ago to blood poisoning."

"Oh."

"Are you sure it's him?" Trudy asked.

"Yep, got his head right here. You want to see?" she said.

"Ooh, ooh, I do" said Phillip.

"Here you go" she said as she handed him the paper bag containing the Wolf's head.

"Huh?" Phillip said.

"What?" George said.

"I expected him to look bigger for some reason."

"Well, he's missing his body so you probably don't have a good point of reference to compare him to" George replied.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Oh, hold on, I know! Hey, Johnny, whose head is bigger?"

I looked up to see Phillip holding the head of Daniel next to his and awaiting my verdict as to whose was bigger.

"His is."

"What? No way" Phillip said and actually looked quizzically at the severed Wolf's noggin.

"Yep, his head's definitely bigger" said George.

"Huh? Hey, do I have a small head, Trudy?"

"No, Phillip, your head is perfect sized" she said, and he seemed pleased, so he put the head back in the bag and sat back to enjoy the ride.

"Hey, George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Was that...?"

"Yes, Johnny, it was."

"Then we're..."

"Yes, we're back in freaking Waxahachie again."

We arrived back at my apartment at the same time Detective Nat Hallowed did so we pulled up, hopped out and did the 'Hey, Nat' greeting all Aliens get when visiting my domicile. We entered my apartment and Nat started to catch us up on what he gleaned from his investigation into the financial wheelings and dealings of Peter North.

"I'm going to wash this make-up off" I said.

"Why?" George said which I ignored.

"You look sexy" Phillip said which I also ignored.

I walked through my bedroom, entered my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I resembled a transvestite superhero with smeared eye make-up due to my dash away from the tower which made it appear I was wearing a bluish mask around my eyes. I sighed, reached to turn on the hot water in the sink but stopped because I heard a rustle coming from my walk-in closet. I walked over, opened the door and saw... Bob's butt sticking in the air with the rest of his torso bent over so his neck and shoulders were in the decorative bag containing his head.

"Hey, stop that!" I yelled for what reason I had no idea but it seemed he was doing something devious so I did and I'll be darned if the dang thing didn't straighten up lickety-split with the bag still on its shoulders and its back facing me. I don't know if it retained any brain function or not but it appeared to be trying to hide in plain sight by not moving and standing stock still in order to remain unseen. I reached up ever so gently, quietly grasped the bag and yanked it off to reveal... Bob's head staring back at me with a shocked expression on its face; a head facing backwards.

He was looking at me with his beady eyes and I could tell he had some semblance of who I was because he began screaming at me; you know, in the shrieky way Zombies do after they're ripped apart. But he was shrieking at me backwards and I guess he didn't retain enough brain activity to both shriek and move correctly because after shrieking he tried attacking but kept running into the wall at the rear of the closet because he couldn't figure out his head was on backwards. His hands were still duct-taped so I didn't need to worry about them but his torso had found enough leverage to partially loosen the tape around his legs so he had the ability to kind of do a shuffle; like when your pants are down around your ankles and you need to get something a little too far away but you don't want to take the time to properly pull them up so you stand up and shuffle until you've gotten what you wanted. Uh-huh, that's what old Bob was doing except he was doing it into a wall. He would get this determined look on his face, shriek like a banshee and then shuffle into the wall behind him, or in front of him if you're using his torso as a directional reference. He would shriek, shuffle, hit that wall, stumble back, get a confused look on his face, take a second and repeat the whole process again.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Phillip?"

"What are you doing?"

"Watching Bob run into a wall."

"Oh, can I watch?"

So we stood there, two grown men watching another grown man go from a determined maniacal killer into a confused one all in the span of about three shuffles. Over and over again we watched and I've got to admit I started to root for the old guy, sort of hoping maybe, just maybe, he could get his head on straight and figure out his feet were on backwards but, alas, he never did and the last thing I remember about the greatest salesman Industrial Products ever employed was him shrieking and shuffling before Phillip gently shut the door.

"What'll happen to him?" I asked.

"He'll wear down and die away" Phillip replied.

"He won't come out of the closet?"

"No, his head's not on right."

"So, we're just going to leave him in my walk-in?"

"Yep."

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"If I ever become a Zombie, promise you won't let me end up like that."

"I promise."

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"I didn't mean I wanted you to rip me up or anything. I was thinking along the lines of letting me pass away in a lawn chair or something."

"Oh, yeah, that's what I was thinking too."

"Thank you for lying to me, Phillip."

"You're welcome, Johnny."

Chapter 22

We walked back into the living room where the others were gathered around my card table in deep discussion. Steve was sitting on my futon, content as could be, with diapers and a silly grin on his face. For some reason I got the impression he knew old Bob was stuck in a bad place and it pleased him somehow but I don't know it for a fact and I could've been influenced by his earlier attempts to eat me so I might not exactly be impartial with my opinions on the wishes and desires of Stevie-boy, diaper-Zombie-man.

"Bob burned the Reformatory down in order to get access to the land?" I heard Trudy ask as Phillip and I reentered the conversation.

"Yep" said Nat.

"But, didn't we own the land?" she asked.

"Nope, Bob did, or rather his family did, but at the time his mother was on her death bed and Bob was the sole heir. There was a lien on the property but I guess his mother figured the lease money would eventually take care of that" he replied.

"So we leased the space from them? Why would we do that? It doesn't sound like something we would do" she said.

"It was a joint venture between your company, Bob's mother and the State. Bob's mom would lease the State some land to house its Reformatory as long as an independent contractor actually ran the place. I guess she didn't trust the State too much because of the way her son had been treated a few years before."

"How was he treated?" she asked.

"He was imprisoned?"

"For what?"

"Tax fraud" Nat replied.

"Tax fraud?"

"Yep, old Bob decided to run a little scam using the same land. He put up a whole bunch of little huts he then rented out to the migrant workers who came by to work the fields in the area. Since those hard working souls were from across the border and didn't have the necessary paperwork to work those fields the farmers and ranchers always paid them in cash. Now, those people needed some place to lay their heads at night so Bob decided to build his make-shift migrant hotel and charged them a nice little sum of money in order to stay there; a sum of money paid for in cash so there was no record of the transactions. Since there was no record of the transactions Bob didn't pay any taxes on the income he received. Now, old Bob had a pretty good thing going; his land was off the beaten path, his customers were rather shy about telling the authorities where they worked or lived and he was making money he didn't report because it was all cash. Yep, old Bob was living the high life but it didn't last."

"Bob got greedy, didn't he?" said Vivian.

"Yep, Bob got greedy. He saw an opportunity to rid those hard-working farm hands of even more of their money by opening up a convenience store where they could buy food, beer, cigarettes and whatever else visiting laborers needed to make their lives a little more bearable. Now, he might've gotten away with it if it hadn't been for one small glitch in his plans he didn't account for."

"What?" I asked.

"Bob forgot other people lived in his town and would become curious as to why their new-found customers were no longer spending cash in their stores. The rumors were running wild but since Bob's land was so isolated no one knew what to do about it until someone reported Bob and then the town really got upset with him. Isn't that a hoot? The people weren't mad at Bob for taking money from illegal migrants, heck, they were all doing it; they were mad because he was denying them the right to do so."

"How many years did he get?" George asked.

"Ten. But with good time and parole he got out in two. But it was during those two years this story really gets interesting."

"Oh?" said Trudy and Vivian together in their cute little enraptured way.

"Yep, while in prison Bob met another inmate who also happened to be there for fraud but on a much larger scale than Bob's. This inmate was in there for taking money from investors and fooling them for years their money was in good hands."

"Huh?" Phillip said.

"This particular convict ran a pyramid scam, Phillip. He would get people to invest huge sums of money in his scheme, pay them a yearly dividend which made it appear their money was making even more money for them and bought everything from a boat to a vacation home in South Padre."

"What was his scam?"

"Oil wells. He was a land appraiser who had investors believing the land he owned had oil beneath it. They invested a minimum of one-hundred thousand dollars and received a ten percent dividend on their investment every year for five years running until the whole thing blew up in his face."

"How'd it blow up?" George asked.

"The housing market burst. Those investors, well, many of those investors also invested in housing and when it took a turn for the worse they lost a lot of their valuable income so they went to this convict and asked to get their principle back. Now, this convict was a pretty smart guy and what he'd been doing was taking ten percent of the investors' money as his own and putting the rest in banks so he had enough money in reserve to pay back some of the investors but not if everyone wanted their money at the same time."

"Huh?" Phillip said.

"Going a little fast for you, big guy?"

"A little" Phillip replied with a sheepish grin.

"Well, it goes like this. This convict got someone to give him one hundred thousand dollars. Now, he took ten thousand for himself which left ninety thousand dollars in the bank. He promised the investor a ten percent return on the hundred thousand dollars every year so he needed to send them a check for ten thousand dollars once a year. If you do the math it meant he had nine years of money to run through before a single investor's principle was drained to nothing. Add in a whole bunch of other investors and he had a cash reserve in the millions. His only real problem was reporting all the income to the government which would get taxed and which left him with a little problem; namely, sooner rather than later his whole gig would be up. But he found a way around the little problem."

"How?" asked Vivian.

"He actually bought some land with oil under it."

"Really?" said Vivian.

"Yep. He found it on a little piece of property he'd surveyed previously which showed the possibility of oil. So he bought the land, did a sonar survey and found it did have a small reservoir of oil. But next to his land, on his neighbor's property the sonar revealed a much larger reservoir; so much larger, in fact, his initial lie to the investors turned out to be the truth. He really could get them a ten percent return on their investment if he could just his hands on his neighbor's property."

"What did he do?" she asked.

"Well, he tried to buy the property, of course, but the owner wouldn't sell. Turns out the property had been in the family's hands for generations and they wanted to keep it that way. So this convict, the one Bob met in jail, was sitting on land which was pretty valuable but next door, one property line over, was a bonanza of oil just waiting to be sucked out of the ground."

"And he couldn't get to it" said George.

"Nope, not as long as the owner wouldn't sell. But then something came up which gave him the possibility of acquiring the land."

"What was that?" asked Vivian.

"The neighbor whose land was sitting on all that oil, well, her son fell afoul of the law and needed money to put up a defense in order to avoid jail time."

"Hold on. Are you talking about Bob?"

"Uh-huh. His neighbor was Bob's Mom, and Bob got arrested for running his lodging and beverage business. Now, his mom didn't have the money to hire a bunch of lawyers for him but her neighbor came to the rescue; sort of."

"How's that?" George asked.

"He said he would put up Bob's bail money and fund his defense if she would sign over the lease to her land."

"Did she do it?" asked Vivian.

"Nope. She thought it was too much of a risk. I mean, she had to know Bob was guilty, it was on their land after all but the neighbor, the convict Bob would meet later in jail, offered her a second option."

"What was that?" George asked.

"He would fund Bob's bail and defense if she would put up half of her property for collateral. He even said he wouldn't try and take the property as long as she could make payments to him over a twenty year period of time. I guess she thought about it and it isn't really all too certain by the court records if she would've accepted the contract but then something came up which virtually guaranteed she would."

"What?" George asked again.

"Commercial Property Management came forward and inquired if she would lease some of her land to them to run the Reformatory for Wayward Youth."

"Oh my goodness" said Vivian.

"Uh-huh. Bob's mom now had a sure way to pay back her neighbor, Bob's future jail-mate, so she happily took his offer and placed half of her land as collateral if she couldn't pay; all the while knowing she could because she was guaranteed lease money from Commercial Property Management. It was a no-brainer and she thought maybe, just maybe, Bob could beat the case against him."

"But Bob didn't" said George.

"Nope" replied Nat.

"And somehow ended up in the very same prison as his neighbor who funded his defense?"

"Yep. The housing market went bust and the neighbor's initial investors wanted their nest eggs back and when he couldn't hide from them any longer the authorities busted him."

"And that's when he met Bob?"

"Yep, and that's where it really gets interesting."

"How?" asked George.

"The neighbor was Steve."

"Steve..."

The people of Texas are great believers in the concept of individual rights. It's been passed down for generations and ingrained in the very fabric of Texas culture; from the right to bear arms to an individual's right to use those arms to blow away anyone who threatens them on their own doorstep. This belief in individual rights is most manifest in the idea what one makes is solely up to the individual alone; it's no one else's business how much or how little another person earns so there is naturally a slight mistrust within Texans when someone or something tells them to give up some of their hard earned money so others may benefit. The most obvious example is in the form of taxes. Now, they won't go so far as to say taxes aren't necessary, no, because the great people down in the southern paradise admit it is necessary to fund things like infrastructure, space exploration or the military for national security but they draw the line when it comes to other things they see as an infringement upon an individual's liberty. Government is one such organization viewed through wary glasses; the larger the more wary. They see any entity which tells them how to disperse their money as an affront to their own God-given rights. It doesn't matter if it's for the homeless, a bureaucracy, or even their own private security; the people down there believe, and could very well be right, the individual is in a much better position to produce an outcome more advantageous to society than a large group of government nannies ever could.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"How long till Nat gets back?"

"I don't know, when he gets called away on a case he's not really in charge of his time schedule."

"Then I have a question for you."

"What's that?"

"Before, when you were talking about Merri Li being sent to Second Clan, well, I was just curious; was there a Third Clan already here in America? I mean, could they have even sent her over here because, if I'm not mistaken, they didn't really know America existed then, did they?"

"Good question, and the answer is 'no' and 'yes'. She could not have been sent to the Americas because we had not yet delegated a clan for its rule but the two other clans certainly knew the Americas existed because our northern brothers had been raiding the coastline over here for centuries by then."

"Oh."

"Do you want to hear more about Yin and Yang, Johnny?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay, Merri Li was sent to Second Clan and taught the ways of the Vampire. She was an exceptional student and very strong in her natural gifts; so strong she was already being looked at as a potential mate to a Wolf who showed promise as an Alpha."

"You can measure a Vampire's gifts?"

"Well, I don't know if measure is the correct term for it but we can surely tell when one Vamp is more gifted than another."

"Some Vampires are stronger than others?"

"Yes, as in everything there is difference in perfection. A good example is Bob and Steve."

"Huh?"

"Bob and Steve. Both men are Zombies so both received Vampire blood when they were turned. Now, after we put them back together Vivian gave them some of her blood in order to help them re-animate. When her blood was added to the existing Vampire blood it acted as a sort of kick drive to get them started but there was one thing which was different; do you know what it was?"

"Bob was a bit healthier?"

"Yes, Bob was healthier. Now, at first I thought maybe it was because Bob was naturally healthier than Steve when they were turned even though Bob was a bit older. It happens sometimes, people at a younger age catch a terminal disease before a person who is elderly but it doesn't happen often and I was a bit curious but things have been happening rather quickly lately so I guess I passed it off as Steve being a sicker person when he was turned. But then something else happened?"

"You asked them who their master was."

"Yes, I asked them who they owed their existence to and you know what I learned?"

"You could rip Bob's head off with one tug?"

"No, I already knew that. I learned Bob and Steve were turned by two separate Vampires."

"How?"

"Because whichever Vampire's blood is the strongest is the controlling Superior. Now, those two had been torn up and thrown in the water for almost a full day before we fished them out so the remaining Vampire blood was running low and it probably regressed a bit but Vampire blood is viral in nature so even a tiny drop of a strong Vampire's blood will override the weaker one. When Vivian lent her blood to Bob and Steve she should definitely have been the controlling Superior."

"Is Vivian a strong Vampire?"

"Vivian was one of the few picked as a possible mate for George , Johnny, and George may very well be the strongest Wolf in the clan; so, yes, Vivian is a very strong Vampire."

"So then...?"

"Whichever Vampire turned Steve is weaker than Vivian."

"And...?"

"Whichever turned Bob is stronger."

"Which means...?"

"The Vampire who turned Bob is mated to an Alpha and if she is stronger than Vivian then he's probably stronger than George."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That's kind of depressing."

"Well, I guess it would be if I knew what depression felt like but, in any case, it's something to consider as we move along in our little adventure here."

"So what happened to Merri Li?"

"She was offered the opportunity to be mated with Yin."

"Offered?"

"Yes. Vampires choose, along with Werewolves. Neither can be mated unless both choose to do so."

"But you said she was fast-tracked out of Vampire school so she could mate with Yin and stop him from killing all the other Werewolves?"

"True, but either could have refused the other."

"But they didn't."

"No, they didn't, they took one look at each other and knew they were meant to be together. So Yin took Merri Li as his mate and things probably would've gone back to normal except for one small detail."

"What?"

"Yin challenged for Clan Elder immediately."

"Well, you could see that coming."

"No, I don't think you understand. Yin challenged for Clan Elder without forming a family. He took on the entire Clan Elder Family alone. Well, he had Merri Li of course but, in essence, he was alone."

"Did he win?"

"Obviously he won or we wouldn't be talking about him now but he paid a horrible price."

"What?"

"He lost Merri Li."

"She died?"

"No, but she refused him the one thing mated pairs need in order to survive after death."

"Excuse me?"

"She refused to sire his heir, Johnny. She realized what Yin was could not be allowed to exist beyond him."

"What was he?"

"The end of our species."

The federal government is looked upon as a necessary evil down in the south and it's probably because any form of government trumps the very idea of individual rights because government is, at its core, the arbitrator of what those rights are. If the government says you may not drive a vehicle then no matter how proficient you are behind the wheel, unless you wish to tempt jail, you may not drive. It is viewed as a necessary evil because they're not so ignorant as to not recognize some very bad apples exist in their midst's and would abuse those rights by trampling others to further their own gain. They allow government to govern but they don't like it so they choose to allow local governments the most power over them so they can keep an eye on the greedy little vote-getters and put an end to their over-pompous views of themselves before they bring about the entire extermination of their society.

"Why did she think he was the end of your species?"

"Our species, Johnny, you're one of us."

"Okay; why did she think Yin was the end of our species?"

"Because he was too perfect."

"Are you trying to be vague, Trudy?"

"No, I'm trying to be precise. You see, Yin was everything Yang wasn't. He took every perfect quality and kept it as his own, essentially hoarding the best attributes of a Superior and allowing the worst to flow to Yang. The Heaven's bred us to be perfect but even they aren't Gods so while we may be Superiors we are by no means perfect and some of our genetic code is imprecise; except for Yin's, which was precise because he gave the imperfect to Yang and therefore became as perfect as we could be."

"So Yin was a perfect Werewolf?"

"Yes."

"Why would it make him the end to your, err, our species?"

"Because perfection implies superiority and the Heaven's designed us to subjugate the inferior."

"Huh?"

"He was compelled to kill us, Johnny."

"What?"

"He was bred with the genetic necessity to eradicate the one species who posed a threat to his superiority; his own."

"He was?"

"Yes, like I said, we were born to kill."

Government is the parent of the family, it's the authority and can decide what's permissible and what's not. It's this aspect of inferiority which rankles the southern spirit for no one likes to be told what to do.

"What happened when she told him she wouldn't give him a child?"

"Yin did what all men do when their will is thwarted."

"Which was?"

"He lashed out."

When we're told to do something we may either accept or reject the order. If the governing authority who issued the order is strong enough we may pay a price for our insubordination but if it's not...?

"What did he do?"

"He went to war with First Clan."

"Wow, he had a bad temper."

"Yes, he did."

"Why didn't he just... I hate to say this, but why didn't he just get another mate or kill Merri Li?"

"Because she was the Matriarch."

"So?"

"So, he only had authority over Second Clan because she gave it to him, without her he was merely the most powerful Wolf in the Clan."

"But without him she wasn't the Matriarch."

"True."

"Then... okay, what happened?"

"He led Second Clan to war with First Clan and the resulting bloodshed left the countryside in ruins."

"Do you people do anything which doesn't involve the destruction of others?"

"No. We were designed to be Superior and by definition it means we subjugate all others and that subjugation invariably means we kill those who would thwart our will."

"Even bunny rabbits?"

"Yes, Johnny, even bunny rabbits. If for some reason the rabbits got together and decided to reject our authority we would put an end to their furry little existence once and for all."

Chapter 23

Government is viewed as a necessary annoyance to the people of the great state of Texas and so, since they are a polite group of guys and gals, they allow it to operate with as much impunity as they can tolerate but sometimes it goes too far; like when it tried to mandate people on motorcycles must wear helmets. Okay, we all know helmets are probably a good idea but it isn't the point. The point is people ride motorcycles to get the feeling of freedom and the feeling is tempered somewhat when one's brain case is enclosed inside a hulking piece of fiberglass. The freedom is further dampened by the fact they didn't choose to put the stupid thing on, someone else mandated they do so. So they ignored the law and elected officials who wouldn't impose the judgments against them for doing so. How did they get them elected?

BY VOTING?

They got the motorcycle riders to rally against those who would keep their stupid helmet-laws in place. How did they win?

BY ELECTION TAMPERING?

By pointing out the obvious. The opposing side of the helmet-law controversy was always people who drove cars and they didn't really have a dog in the fight; because what was the law for?

TO STOP BRAIN SPLATTERING?

It was to protect motorcycle riders from themselves. But what do people in cars care if others on bikes decide to take a chance with their lives and ride with the wind blowing through their hair?

BEATS ME?

Who are they harming?

FLYING INSECTS.

If they get in a wreck they might leave a skid mark on the underside of the car they ran into but other than that, who cares?

"So Yin went to war with First Clan?"

"Uh-huh."

"Did he win?"

"Yes, but just barely and only because of a remarkable chance meeting."

"A remarkable chance meeting?"

"Yes. Remember, Yin had been beheading Second Clan Werewolves for quite some time before becoming Elder so when he led Second to war with First he was doing so with an inferior complement of Wolves. Now, normally this would've been a rout but with Yin in charge what would have been a normal victory for First Clan turned into a narrow one for Second. He was paying a heavy price for each victory, though, because when Wolves fight they do so understanding the winner will be the one who keeps his head. While Second Clan was winning each battle they were losing the war because First had more Wolves and would eventually overpower Second so Yin decided he needed to change the circumstances and he took the war to the heart of First Clan by challenging their Elder Family to a fight for all."

"You can do that?"

"Not normally, no, but these were unusual circumstances. While First was in a position to eventually win they were losing each individual battle and thus depleting their Wolves at an alarming rate. When Yin issued his challenge the Elder Family had no real alternative than to accept his challenge."

"Why?"

"Because it was just him, Johnny, he was still leading Second Clan without a family."

"So?"

"So, he would be taking on First Clan's three leading Wolves by himself."

"Three against one?"

"Yes."

"Hold on, what about Merri Li? Where was she during all of this?"

"She was with Yin, but Vampires do not fight in wars, we're too important to lose in something as unimportant as governance."

"So unimportant...? We're talking about the leader of your people here, aren't we?"

"Yes, but a leader leads only so long as they live and even though Yin was superior over all others he was not omnipotent."

"Omnipotent?"

"It means unbeatable."

"Oh."

"So Yin issued his challenge and the First Clan's Elder Family accepted. They met at the Pit of Confrontation and it was there the fate of the world changed."

"The fate of the world? Isn't that a bit melodramatic?"

"Melodramatic?"

"Yeah, I learned it in acting class."

"And you took the class for...?"

"It was a requirement for my major. Okay, look, I readily admit it's a defunct degree and a horrible occupational choice but I at least learned to lie convincingly."

"And you do it well, Johnny."

"Thank you, Trudy."

"So anyway, Yin went to the Pit of Confrontation and faced off against the three Wolves of First Clan. It should've been a rout but something occurred which changed all of that..."

"Hold on; should have been a rout, how?"

"First Clan's Wolves should've easily defeated Yin."

"Why? Yin had beaten Second Clan's leading family of Wolves, hadn't he?"

"Yes, he did. But First Clan's Elder Wolf was something of a phenomenon. He was, before Yin, the most dominant Wolf the world had ever known. So he, along with his two Wolf-mates, should've put an end to Yin's ambitions of world domination before they could ever come to fruition."

"What happened?"

"Yin met Yang."

"He what?"

"Yin met Yang. Yang was the torchbearer for First Clan."

"Torchbearer?"

"Yes. In the Pit of Confrontation a torch is carried to symbolize the fire inside the Clan Family's hearts; it also symbolizes the light to lead the way."

"Okay, that's really melodramatic."

"Yes, I know. But anyway, Yang was the torchbearer for Fist Clan so he was inside the Cave of Confrontation when the combatants entered."

"Why was Yang the torchbearer?"

"Because the First Clan Family was the one who sheltered him."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because the First Clan Family was his."

"Huh?"

"The First Clan's Matriarch sired him."

"But... that means..."

"Yes, Johnny, Yin was fighting to the death the Wolf who gave him life."

Laws were made to be broken because those laws were made to stop something which was occurring. Now, just because something is deemed illegal doesn't mean people will quit doing it; on the contrary, people will find extraordinary ways to keep doing the activity because there is a certain segment of society which values their contribution. Take drugs, for example. We can all see the horrible consequences which occur through drug use but it continues to be a plague on society to this day. Why?

BECAUSE THEY FEEL GOOD?

Because drugs alter reality and, for some people, reality is not something they wish to face.

"So what happened?"

"Yin faced off with the three Wolves of First Clan and fought, I guess, what would be called a defensive battle. He wouldn't allow the other Wolves to attack in a way which would produce an outcome but he also wasn't furthering his ability to do so either. If it would've gone on any longer than it did whatever energy he'd stored up would've depleted and he would've been at the mercy of the Wolves before him."

"But something happened, didn't it?"

"Yes, something did."

"It involved Yang, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did."

"What was it?"

"Yang dimmed his torch."

"That's it? He dimmed his torch?"

"Yes, it's told in tale and it goes like this: The cave was naturally dark so torches were used to light the proceedings. The gallery was filled with those whose lives depended upon the outcome. The combatants were the best the two clans had to offer and the fight began; three on one, two extraordinary, two not. It became clear early on the fight would be a protracted one for the lone individual was fighting a game of survival instead of conquest. Everyone in attendance believed the three would beat the one and it appeared only a matter of time before the outcome was settled, but then something happened; a torch was doused and a Werewolf followed soon after. Now, it was two on one and the situation changed dramatically for one of the two seemed not to know where the one was. In every shadow the one lurked, biding his time until... one less Wolf. Now there were only two, he and the other who stood between him and total domination. He waited, he stalked and, when the time was right, he attacked."

"What happened?"

"Yin spared the other his life."

"Why?"

"Because the other was mated to the Vampire who sired him."

"Then what happened?"

"Yin sent the other and his mate into exile."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Where was exile?"

"Here"

"What?"

"The America's, Yin sent them to where they couldn't challenge him and they founded what would later become Third Clan."

Sometimes things happen faster than one would expect; like an avalanche which begins with a rock rolling downhill but the momentum of it and its fellow conspirators cause a cascade effect and the outcome is merely a foregone conclusion.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, George?"

"Nat called."

"What did he say?"

"We've been challenged."

It seems the world has its own ideas as to what it wants to happen and the various species are merely pawns in its game of life. Every subset of Superior from Werewolf to Vampire to Human to me has its own view and it's guided by the one prevailing principle we all have in common; selfishness. We are inherently selfish. We do what's best for us because we have no other rational alternative. Why would we do something worse for us?

WE WOULDN'T.

Some would argue we'll put aside our selfishness for our children but I would argue our children are merely replicas of ourselves and since we know we will not live forever doing what's best for our children is, in essence, a selfish act done to promote our own legacy.

"How long till we get there, George?" I asked.

"A couple of hours."

"What's going to happen when we get there?" I asked in general.

"We're going to be judged, Sweetie" said Vivian.

"Judged?"

"Yes, the other family has made their claim to our occupation and we'll be afforded the opportunity to make a case for our side."

"And what will your case be?"

"That we're in as good of a position as they are. They killed Peter but we killed Daniel so, in fact, we're equal in strength."

"But you're not ,are you?"

"No, we're not, we're still without Stephanie."

"So you're one Vampire down."

"Yes, Sweetie, we're one Vampire down."

"Who's the other family?"

"The Ramos family" said George.

"How do you know?"

"Because Daniel was a member of their family" he said.

"Then you know who Melissa is?"

"No, we're still unsure. Daniel lost his mate last year so, I guess, Melissa is her replacement."

"How did Daniel's mate die?"

"She died of blood poisoning."

"Blood poisoning?"

"Yes, she was in hibernation with Daniel's child and received Human blood which was tainted and it killed her."

"I thought you were immune from disease?"

"Our blood gives us the immunity, Johnny, but when a Vampire goes into pregnancy she's drained of half her own blood and given Human blood so the unborn may survive" said Trudy.

"Don't you have safeguards to prevent bad blood from getting in?" I asked.

"Yes, we do. The Food Tribe owns many blood banks and they're in charge of insuring the blood for birth is untainted" she answered.

"But they somehow messed up?"

"Yes."

"Wasn't there an inquiry?"

"Oh yes, there's always an inquiry when a Catastrophe happens" Trudy said.

"Who was in charge of the inquiry?"

"The tribe of the Catastrophe."

"The tribe of the Catastrophe? Really? Are you always going to speak so cryptically?"

"Yes, it's what we do..." she began.

"I don't" said Phillip.

"...when we want to be smart and keep an open mind about something" Trudy finished.

"Oh, I meant, I don't, err, like it when others don't speak cryptically because it makes them sound descriptive and that's just dumb; isn't that right, George?"

"You should know, Phillip."

"Yeah, I should know...hold on. Should know what?"

"Phillip?" Trudy said.

"Yes, Mistress" Phillip responded.

"Please let me finish my story."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Thank you. Johnny, the tribe in which the Catastrophe occurred holds the inquiry because they don't trust the other tribes."

"They think the other tribes go around killing Vampires?"

"It's been known to happen."

"I thought you said Vampires were off limits?"

"They are now but only because of what happened before."

"What happened before?"

"Yang and Merri Li were killing them."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, Yang and Merri Li performed more Catastrophes than had been seen since the Great Flood, Freeze and Starvation" Trudy said.

"For goodness sakes, why?"

"Because the Vampires were conspiring to rid themselves of Yin by doing the only thing which would relieve him of his power."

"What was that?"

"Killing Merri Li."

"How would killing Merri Li...? Hold up. The whole Matriarchy thing, right?"

"Yes, without a mate a Wolf may not be anything but a Beta. If Merri Li were removed then the Matriarchy would be up for grabs and the Vampire of the strongest Werewolf would rule."

"But what would keep Yin from taking another mate and just reclaiming power?"

"His love for Merri Li. It was obvious to all Yin thought little of any Vampire except Merri Li. He believed, and was correct in his belief, he was Superior to all Superiors, essentially a breed apart and his distrust and loathing of all others was as obvious as..."

"Don't say it."

"Don't say what?"

"Never mind, I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Okay, well his hatred for his own kind led the Vampires to conspire to kill Merri Li and remove him from power but they had to get near her so they came up with an idea they thought would work; enlist the aid of one of their own."

"Who?"

"Yang. He'd been raised by First Clan's Elders so they thought he'd help them in their scheme to rid themselves of Merri Li and thus remove Yin from power."

"But he'd just helped Yin defeat the Elder Family Wolves."

"Yes, true, but they thought he was merely being strategic" she said.

"Huh?"

"They thought he was playing the same power game they all were and he'd sided with Yin in order to raise his level of authority. When he was without Yin he was the weakest of all and was treated as such. He was, in all respects, a slave to the Elder Family who'd sheltered him but with Yin he was something else."

"What was he?"

"Ultimate power. Without Yang, Yin was still the most powerful Werewolf ever conceived, but with Yang, Yin was perfection. Yin could rule with absolute knowledge no one could ever challenge him because no one could ever sneak up on him. He was already unbeatable in single combat but knew without Yang guarding his back, as it were, eventually some lucky Wolf would come up from behind and tear his head off. Remember, he had no other family to watch his back so without Yang's cloaking ability he would've ruled with paranoia."

"They asked Yang to turn on his brother?"

"They didn't just ask, they enticed him also."

"With what?"

"With what they thought he wanted; a family of his own."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. They thought he would comply with their wishes if they offered him a Vampire."

"I thought you said Vampires had to agree to be mated?"

"They do."

"You also said Wolves fight in order to be chosen."

"Also true."

"But Yang was the weakest in the Clan, right?"

"Yes."

"Then what self-respecting Vampire would willingly choose to be mated with the weakest member of the Clan?"

"As it turns out, all of them" she replied.

Chapter 24

Selfishness is an odd little emotion because of its effect according to its implementation. It can be the downfall for many if employed in ways viewed as negative to society, such as robbing another at gunpoint, or it can be a windfall to others who use it to advance an idea which is beneficial, such as air conditioning. Selfishness is what gets many people out of bed in the morning to gain something, be it money, a new car or the accumulation of power. It doesn't matter the reward, it's the selfish act of the individual which drives them to receive the reward which has led to so many discoveries of both profound and destructive proportions.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Aren't you running low on gas?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you stop at the gas station we just passed?"

"Did you see the price he was selling it for?"

"Yes."'

"Well, it's ten-cents lower in town."

"But we're driving away from town."

"So? Not every gas-station owner outside of town is a price-gouger."

Of course, he was wrong and we kept right on driving past all the other outside-of-town gas-station price-gougers because he just couldn't let himself get taken for the extra two dollars it would cost him to pump his twenty gallons of gas. Why do we take umbrage at some things we view overpriced and not others?

UMBRAGE? YOU'RE GOING TO USE THE WORD 'UMBRAGE'?

Yep, take perfume for example. In what universe does a few smashed up rose petals cost more than a microwave oven?

ANDROMEDA.

Seriously, the microwave oven now costs less than a bottle of scent from Europe. What are they putting on their flowers over there?

EXTRA SUNSHINE.

I know this because I was trying to wine and dine a young lady a few years back and had neither the food nor the cooking equipment with which to do so; the wine I had in abundance just in case. So I went down to one of those super-super-markets, you know, the ones larger than the very factories used to produce the goods they sold. Inside I found a microwave oven and on the way to the counter I saw a bottle of perfume. Now I, being a wise and cosmopolitan kind of guy...

REALLY? WISE AND COSMOPOLITAN?

Yes, wise and cosmopolitan. I thought it might lend a little credibility to my mystique if I showed off both my culinary skills with the strange little food-zapper and my unique skills as a mystery shopper. I lumbered up to the register with my microwave and bottle of perfume, the cashier scanned them and I about had a seizure. The perfume was three times the price of the microwave. An amazing invention which somehow cooks meat without fire was three times cheaper than some leaves off a plant grown in manure.

"I'm not helping at all."

"Yes you are, Johnny."

"No I'm not, Phillip, you and George are doing all the work."'

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"I was thinking maybe I could steer."

"Vivian's already doing that," said George.

"Then maybe I could make some sandwiches?"

"Trudy's doing that" said Phillip.

"Well... then..."

"Just keep pushing, Johnny, I'm sure there's another gas station somewhere over this hill."

Small towns are what make up the bulk of the Great State of Texas and it's those little oases of tranquility which have given them their reputation as a kind and good-naturedly folk, not the big cities. In big cities one can be as rude and ignorant to the plight of others as they wish because the odds of crossing the other person's path before they've had the chance to forget what a selfish jerk you were is infinitely small. Not so in small towns. In small towns you run into the entire population about once a week so being rude is not the best idea because most small town folk I've met grew up in those towns, so they already know everyone, and if you are rude to one then word gets around you might be rude to all, thus they aren't rude; and unlike big cities they have firearms and the willingness to use them.

"Hey, folks. You need a lift?" the farmer in the truck asked.

"Nah, we're okay" said George.

"Thanks, but we've got it handled" said Phillip.

"Heck yeah, I need a lift!" said I.

I rode alone because George wouldn't leave the pickup, so neither would Phillip, which made the Vampires self-conscious and Steve, who we had wrapped up in blankets in the back, was not an option; so it was just me and farmer-man with a gas can. The ride to the nearest gas station was twenty miles and since we were in a farmer's pickup truck it took us forty minutes. I think I might like to live in a small town someday because it seems people from those towns have a good handle on what's important in life; namely, nothing big-city folk believe is important. They don't put much stock in the car you drive or the clothes you wear as long as both are relatively clean and up to the task at hand. In my farmer-taxi-driver's case he was wearing overalls and driving a truck painted various shades of prime which gave him a country-boy vibe except he looked sixty, listened to opera and farmed emus. Yep, he raised those overgrown birds from Australia. Turns out sometime in the last decade a cult emerged in the health conscious communities and emus were considered downright good eating because their meat was fat-free or something.

REALLY?

Yeah, apparently tasty too.

GOOD TO KNOW.

So anyway, my farmer-guy decided to branch out and invest in those flightless giant chickens and said he made a pretty good living at it too. They sold for over ten times what it took to raise them, laid eggs for your breakfast and had another quality which made them exceptional game stock.

WHAT WAS THAT?

The inability to recognize a baseball bat as their means of destruction. He said he'd walk right out into the pasture when it was time to thin the herd, take a good stance, spit on his palms to get a better grip and just swing away. Turns out emus have a head about the same size as a softball with a long skinny neck supporting it so killing them was like playing avian T-ball.

AWESOME!

Yeah.

"You need a ride back?" he asked and I didn't really have a good answer. I mean, obviously I needed a ride back but when he asked me I thought to myself maybe it was the way of the country-folk; you know, sort of one-way rides and all. Maybe in small towns they were so polite to each other he thought I would invariably catch a ride back by someone going the other way. I stood there in my indecision, not sure which way I was going to answer his question when...

"Johnny!"

... big-eyed, long-necked, green-skinned, molecular-hologrammed, Alien Detective Nat Hallowed hollered my name.

"Nat! What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to the Judgment, of course" he replied.

"How did you..?"

"Are you going to be okay, sonny?" the Babe Ruth of Emu-ball said.

"Huh? Oh, sure. Thank you very much for the lift, sir. Can I pay you for your trouble?"

"Oh, it was no trouble; I was heading this way anyway. I'm going to sell some of my pickled-emus-feet in Austin."

"Oh, well, good luck with that."

"You have a good day" he said while driving off and to this day I wonder if I might've just missed out on the best business partner Phill-Aussie-fries could've ever found.

"Nat!"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Oh! Oh yeah, we've already done the whole greeting thing. So, um...?"

"You want to know how I knew you'd be here?"

"You knew?"

"Yes."

"How? Oh, the chemical monitoring thing, right? Look, Nat, I'm sure your intentions are all well and good but I'm not sure I like the idea..."

"Not by chemical monitoring, Johnny."

"No?"

"No. I knew you'd be here because this is the main freeway between Dallas and Austin and George is incapable of spending money he might otherwise save so he wouldn't fill up in town because he might find a better deal on the road, which is impossible because of the price-gougers, so he would need to stop somewhere around halfway and this, Johnny, is halfway so..."

"He ran out of gas, Nat."

"... or that too. Hey, you want to get a burger before we go and pick them up?"

"You think we have time?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, because they're pushing a two-ton truck and probably a little anxious to get to the Judging."

"They can't start the proceedings without them and the exercise might get their minds off their worries for a while so, in reality, we'd probably be doing them a favor."

I love Aliens from Heaven who lie to themselves to justify burger-eating!

"Hello, gentlemen, what can I get for you?"

"Ooh! Do you have any emu burgers?" I asked.

"No, we don't have any emu burgers."

I was disappointed I couldn't partake in the gastro-intestinal delight which is the emu. If you haven't seen an emu; think ostridge, only smaller. It's nothing more than a long-legged, skinny-necked turkey-burger just waiting for you to walk up and deliver it to your esophagus with one well-placed swing of a Louisville Slugger. I'm telling you, the thing was born to be eaten. Heck, if it weren't for the feathers you could just grab its neck and legs and go to town like you're eating corn-on-the-cob. You know what else looks tasty? Penguins. Think about it. They're already shaped like a drumstick and you know they couldn't outrun you. Heck, you probably wouldn't need anything more than a nine-iron to...

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Nat?

"Are you going to order?"

"Huh? Oh no! Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes, Johnny, and I think you're scaring the poor waitress."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I'll have two jumbo-burger combinations, please."

"Okay, will that be one check or two?"

"Huh?"

"Will that be one check or...? Oh! I'm sorry. What can I get for you officer?"

We sat there eating our two-pounds of cow-flesh and tater-fries with the gusto deserving of men on a mission to save Werewolves and Vampires from other Werewolves and Vampires.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Nat?"

"Did you bring Bob and Steve with you?"

"We brought Steve, Bob's in the closet."

"Why is Bob in the closet?"

"Because his heads on backwards."

"Oh, okay, well, at least you brought one of them."

"Why?"

"Because they're kind of integral to our little adventure here."

"Really? How?"

"Johnny, what do you know so far?"

"About what?"

"About what is going to happen at the Judgment."

"Oh... um... absolutely nothing, Nat."

"Okay, our friends out there are going to be fighting for their lives."

"Hold on, I thought they said if they lost they would just be demoted?"

"Well, that's partially true, but after they got demoted they would most assuredly be killed."

"What? Why?"

"They're too powerful a family. Any family above them would plot their destruction on a daily basis because it'd be the only rational thing to do."

"Why?"

"Because this has been foreordained since the instant Stephanie proposed her plan to Vivian and Trudy."

"What has been foreordained?"

"The LeTorque would rule."

"Okay, I've been meaning to ask; why are they called the LeTorque?"

"It's Stephanie's name and she's the Matriarch."

"Okay, so then, um, I'm confused."

"Yes, I can see. All right, when Stephanie proposed Peter, George and Phillip set aside their rights to declare themselves Alpha she set in motion a chain of events which could only lead her family to the position of Clan Elder."

"Why?"

"Because all three Wolves are Alphas, Johnny."

"Is that unusual?"

"Unusual? It's unheard of. Never has there been a family with two, let alone three, Alphas. They weren't designed that way. So when the three of them agreed to set aside their rights to Alpha they got the attention of every higher family in the Clan."

"Huh?"

"The other families in the Clan have been working to thwart the LeTorque since they formed their union."

"Then how did they move up the ladder?"

"By being better at what they do than any other family. The other members of their tribe may plot and connive against them but when it comes to placing families in the hierarchy, well, it's impossible to overlook their success and vote against them unless you're willing to accept the consequences."

"What are the consequences?"

"Being viewed as ignorant and according your family the place on the ladder where the ignorant reside."

"At the bottom?"

"Under the bottom. Any family seen as placing their own interest above the tribe is viewed as a traitor."

"What happens to them?"

"What usually happens to traitors?"

"Oh."

"Uh-huh. So the LeTorque have been maneuvering for eons up their tribe's ladder and are now one rung away from realizing what's been foreordained from their inception."

"Clan Elders?"

"Yep, but not only Clan Elders. Like I said before, since they're such a powerful family and Peter was able to set up their prison and oil-well business in such a way it overlapped all three occupations of the necessary things in life the LeTorque can make a claim of complete clan supremacy."

"How? I thought the families only voted for members of their same tribe?"

"Yes that's true; at least it has been till now."

"What's changed?"

"Remember when I said the other families in the clan have been working to thwart the LeTorque from the beginning?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I meant that literally. Every family in all three tribes of Third Clan have been working against the LeTorque since they formed their union and they were still able to pull off their little overlapization plan."

"Really? You're still going to use that word?"

"Heck yeah, it's a good word. So anyway, if and when the LeTorque finally decide to put themselves up for consideration as sole Clan Elders the other families would almost be honor bound to vote for them. I mean, if they've been working against them for so long and they were still able to hatch their little scheme how could they, in all honesty, not give them the title?"

"But Peter's dead?"

"Yes, Peter's dead, Stephanie's in pregnant hibernation and another family has taken their occupation."

"The Ramos family."

"Yes, I know."

"What? Then why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm forbidden to interfere. Oh, I may help out with things they could readily find out on their own but I may not actually side with one family over another."

"Why not?"

"Because we bred them. We bred them to be superior and with it comes a little competition. If we were to choose sides then we'd be altering the very thing we're trying to discover."

"What are you trying to discover?"

"What's superior to the Superiors?"

"That's kind of cruel, Nat."

"Why, Johnny?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact you're using them as guinea pigs in your little world-cultivating thing?"

"We gave them life."

"Only to watch them kill themselves."

"Well, it wasn't my idea."

"Whose was it?"

"My father's; Art."

"Your father's name is Art?"

"Yes."

"Your father Art, who lives in Heaven?"

"Yes."

"And your last name is Hallowed?"

"Yes, Johnny, I know, it sometimes gets a little mixed up when..."

"Your father Art, who is in Heaven, and Hallowed be his last name?"

"Look, I think we're getting a little off track here; what say with stick with helping the LeTorque?"

"Okay, but I bet your Dad gets a little kick out of Sunday mass, doesn't he?"

"He's unbearable, Johnny, he struts around all day like some prized rooster or something."

"Sorry about that."

"Yeah, thanks,."

"You're welcome."

"Hey, I think it's about time we give our friends a break, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess we should go and pick them up."

"Pick who up, Sweetie?" I heard and turned around to see the stunning blonde Vampire walk up to our burger-eating man-booth.

"Vivian?"

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"How did you...? There's no way..."

"There's no way what?"

"There's no way Phillip and George could've pushed that truck twenty miles in an hour and a half?"

"Really? I'm standing right here. Hi, Nat."

"Hello, Vivian, you look gorgeous as usual" the detective said as he rose to give her a hug.

"Nat!" Phillip yelled as he joined us.

"Hello, Phillip" the detective said with a smile.

"How are you doing?"

"Well, I can't complain, I've got a job I love and a truck..."

"Hold up!"

"Yes, Johnny?" Phillip asked.

"How the heck did you push a truck twenty miles in an hour and a half?"

"We didn't" he said while Vivian sat down with a seductive grin on her face.

"Then how'd you get here?"

"A tow truck."

"A tow truck?"

"Uh-huh."

"You called a tow truck?"

"Nope, he was in the area."

"A tow truck was in the area?'

"Uh-huh" he said with a goofy smile.

"Why was there a tow truck in the area, Phillip?"

"Probably because of the pile-up, Johnny."

"What pile-up?"

"The thirty car pile-up."

"Okay, stop messing with me. What happened?"

"Well, Trudy yelled she'd finished fixing our sandwiches so George and I sat down to eat when some cars ran into each other."

"How'd the cars run into each other, Phillip?"

"Well, I don't know for sure because we were sitting facing away from the road but I would guess it was due to a little rubber-necking."

"Rubber-necking?"

"Yeah, you see, the way we figure it happened was when Vivian got out to stretch her legs someone, and remember we're not pointing fingers here, but someone must've taken his eyes off the road for a bit and, well, here we are."

"Someone? How does one person taking their eye off the road lead to a thirty car pile-up?"

"Okay, it might've been more than one person. All I know is I heard one car screech its tires and then 'Bang!' so I assume it was the first car to get into the wreck."

"Okay."

"Well, that's where it got a little weird because there weren't any more screeches, just a whole lot of banging."

"Huh?"

"They were ramming themselves into each other, Johnny! It was like some weird bowling match or something where one car would be sitting on the road and here'd come another just racing along and 'Bang!' he would plow into the car which had just plowed into another."

"Oh my God! Was anyone hurt?"

"No, we were far enough off the road to..."

"Not you, Phillip! The people in the cars."'

"Oh, I'm pretty sure they were hurt. You can't go ramming your car into another one and not expect to get hurt, can you?"

"But then how...? Why...? Why would a tow truck take you instead...?"

"Because of Trudy."

"Trudy?"

"Yup. When Vivian finally realized what was causing all those cars to hit each other she joined us on the other side of the truck. Now, after about fifteen minutes or so a whole bunch of ambulances showed up to cart those awful drivers away and with them came a couple of tow trucks. Well, to make a long story short, Trudy asked if the tow-truck guy would tow our truck here, he said 'Yes!', so here we are."

"He just said 'Yes'?"

"Uh-huh."

"You didn't threaten him?"

"Nope."

"Why would he tow a truck not in the wreck?"

"Have you looked a Trudy lately, Johnny?" said Nat.

"Oh, I guess that kind of makes sense."

Chapter 25

If you happen to be a small business owner specializing in the food industry you might want to consider advertising to the Superiors of the world; why?

BECAUSE WE EAT A LOT?

Yep.

"That'll be $247.14" the waitress said.

"Keep the change" George said after handing over three C-notes.

"Thank you very much, sir" she gushed because a fifty dollar tip is still worth something no matter what the cable companies say. Who in their right mind comes up with the prices the entertainment industry demands?

THE PUBLIC?

Oh... well okay, that's actually a pretty good answer, But do they not know how blessed they are to be working in a field which values genetic beauty over intelligence?

PROBABLY NOT.

I once heard this actor go on about how long his days were and how strenuous the artistic process was... Really?

I GUESS IT COULD BE STRENUOUS.

... Strenuous?

SURE. YOU KNOW, MAYBE THEY'RE WORKING ON AN ACTION MOVIE OR SOMETHING.

... how about lugging around a wheelbarrow loaded with wet cement for a day you arrogant, self-righteous, modern-day court jester...

OKAY, GOING ON A RANT AGAIN.

... you lie for a living you over-inflated egomaniac! And quit telling us to give to your stinking charities! We know they need the money but we don't have the money! You have it, Sherlock! So give some of it back! You sorry little...

WHOA!

Sorry, sorry, got a little off-track there.

YOU MIGHT NEED SOME THERAPY.

Blow it out your...

"So what did you learn, Nat?" asked George.

"Where did I leave off last time?"

"Bob and Steve met in prison."

"Oh yeah, isn't that weird? Two neighbors sitting in prison together for essentially white-collar crimes. Oh well, the world's a strange place. So anyway, while they were there Commercial Property Management was teaming up with the State to build the Reformatory for Wayward Youth which had suddenly gotten access to even more land than was previously on the table."

"Huh?"

"You took Steve's land, George."

"We did what?"

"You took Steve's land. After he was found guilty of fraud Commercial Property Management was named executors of the property to see if you could get anything of value for its sale so you could reimburse your clients who had been the largest group of victims in his little pyramid scheme."

"Hold on! I don't remember selling any property around there?"

"Because you didn't."

"Huh?"

"You kept his property. It's still listed as owned by Commercial Property Management."

"But you said we were listed as executors to recoup our client's money."

"Yep, and according to the records of the Court you paid your clients and, surprisingly, all the other dupes of Steve's Ponzi scheme, up front, with money of your own and took possession of the property for you to resell if 'deemed necessary and profitable' for you to recoup your losses."

"And this is the property adjacent to Bob's?"

"Yep, the other one with oil under it."

"Crap!"

"What's going on?" I asked.

"It looks like we knew there was oil under the land, Johnny."

"Why?"

"Because otherwise we would've sold it."

"Huh?"

"If we were given the land as executors to repay our clients we would've done so unless, for some reason or another, we found out the land was more valuable than what the investors were owed; then we would have done exactly as it appears we did which was settle with them and keep the land."

"Is that even ethical?" I asked.

"Were not in the Ethical business, Johnny, we're in the Shelter business."

"Oh."

"What else did you find out, Nat."

"You also took Bob's mom's land, George."

"Yeah, I kind of figured we did since we've got a prison and oil-rigs on the spot; how did we do it?"

"You were awarded it by the Court."

"The same Court which awarded us Steve's land?"

"Nope, a different Court. This Court found Bob guilty of arson and murder and awarded Commercial Property Management Incorporated the deed to the land to recoup its loss of the Reformatory it so graciously built for free."

"Murder?" George asked.

"Yep, Bob's mom was in the Reformatory when it went up."

"Holy cow!" I said.

"Yes, Holy cow, Johnny. She had moved in to one of the rooms next to the nurse's office. It seems she was having more and more difficulty getting around in her home and felt more comfortable living near someone with medical knowledge. It worked out well for Bob because when he got out of prison for his illegal hotel network he got to live in his mom's old home all by himself."

"Where were the kids?" I asked.

"What kids?" Nat asked.

"The Wayward Youth?"

"On a field trip to Big Bend National Park."

"All of them?"

"Yep. Every one of them including teachers, counselors and just about everyone else associated with the place."

"The nurse too?"

"Yep."

"How could they afford that?" I asked.

"They had a generous sponsor."

"Oh, no" said Trudy.

"Yep, Commercial Property Management again, Mistress."

"So... okay, so what happened?"

"Well, it turns out Bob was seen leaving the crime scene by an anonymous witness who called the police when she heard the place had been lit on fire. It turns out it was a good thing because the detective on the case was prepared to let Bob go since he had a pretty darn good alibi."

"What was that" the beauty with flame-colored hair asked.

"He said he remembered watching the live late-night news and told the detective what the entire program was about. Since the detective knew the fire started in the middle of the show and Bob was so vivid in his recollection he was going to rule Bob out. The detective didn't believe it was possible for Bob to have taped the end of the show, ran back home and watched it after he started the fire."

"Why not?" asked Phillip.

"Because the first fire engine reported when they got on the scene they were met by Bob and they arrived only minutes after the news program ended."

"And Bob's mom's house was too far away?" I asked.

"Yep, on the other side of the ranch, a good ten-minute drive over rough terrain by daylight, let alone at night."

"And the Reformatory didn't have a television inside."

"Sure, they had lots but they only subscribed to basic service and it didn't carry the news channel he was watching."

"What basic service doesn't cover all the news channels? Heck, as far as I can see it's about all they..."

"It was a sports-news channel, Johnny."

"Oh. Never mind."

"So Bob didn't do it?" said Phillip

"Well, that's the way it was looking until the detective got the phone call."

"What did the caller say?"

"That she saw Bob near the entrance to the front gates of the Reformatory a mere minutes before it was reported to have caught fire. She remembered because he'd been wearing one of those ten-gallon hats cowboys wear and she thought it looked odd since she couldn't recall seeing him wear one before."

"But she didn't report her name?"

"Nope, but they found a ten-gallon hat in Bob's truck."

"So Bob did do it?" asked Phillip.

"It looked that way to the court of law when they locked him up and threw away the key."

"But you don't think so?"

"Well, I can't get over what the detective thought about it being impossible for Bob to have committed the act if he could remember the nightly news so vividly. The time-line doesn't add up and, well, there's one other little detail I find interesting."

"What's that?"

"There was an outside video-camera recording the whole thing."

"Really?"

"Yep, it showed the perpetrator in a ten-gallon hat pouring liquid on the place and striking a match to ignite the inferno."

"So they had video proof of the arsonist?" I said.

"Well, not exactly" he responded.

"What do you mean?" asked Vivian.

"Well, Mistress, when the perpetrator lit the match to do the deed a funny thing occurred with the image."

"What, it got blurry?"

"Nope, it showed everything crystal clear. The poncho covering the figure, the hat on the figure's head, the gloves on the figures hands, in fact, it had virtually every detail one could wish for except..."

"Except what, Nat?" I blurted.

"Except when the match was lit and a face was shown only a shadow appeared."

All Texans believe in the sanctity of innocence until proven otherwise. Unfortunately that sanctity doesn't extend to those who were previously found wanting in their actions. If you are convicted of any crime you are automatically declared guilty to commit another. It doesn't matter if you drove drunk and are now on trial for rape, the fact you were guilty of one will undoubtedly lead to your conviction in the other. It's even worse for the offenders in the black community. Why?

I DON'T KNOW?

Because we, like every other species on the Earth, don't like to admit when we're wrong. We were wrong about slavery and went about denying it for centuries. We set up programs benefitting our black brothers and sisters with the hopes of assuaging some guilt but we never actually paid any penalty for the crime committed. Should we pay some sort of past-wages due?

YES.

No.

I MEANT, NO.

The people our ancestors wronged can never be compensated for denying them the very thing which sets this country apart from others; that an individual has inherent rights. The people of today cannot be tried for the sins committed by their forefathers but we could stop imprisoning their children at the idiotic rate of one in four if they happen to be male. Why are we putting young men behind bars and then deleting them from society?

BECAUSE THEY BROKE THE LAW.

We all break the law, Sophocles, we break it hundreds of times every day; whether it be jaywalking or speeding or, if you go with the conservative point of view, surfing the internet for a hand-held companion...

REALLY? THAT'S ILLEGAL?

... because, make no mistake, once you've sent a man to prison you've effectively cut off any chance he has of providing for his family. There's absolutely no justification for this. Is it because they once sold a weed to a bunch of teenagers?

SELLING A WEED IS A CRIME?

As far as I can tell the past three Presidents admitted smoking the stupid plant. Why not disallow them the right to govern?

OH, OKAY, I'M CAUGHT UP NOW.

Why are they ruining people's lives because they've been selling a product their own leaders readily admitted purchasing?

BECAUSE THEY'RE CRUEL.

And hypocrites.

"It's time to go" said Vivian and we all got up.

"I'm not feeling very confidant" Phillip said.

"Why?" George replied.

"Because we look like a bunch of heartless oil-exploiters who can't guard our own house."

"Oh" George said and no one thought to add anything else because, really; what else was there to add?

"Are you coming with us, Nat?" asked Phillip.

"Nah, I think I'm going to sit and eat a pie."

"Okay, but could you do me a favor when you get the chance?" asked Trudy.

"Yes, Mistress, of course; if it's within my power to do so" he answered.

"Would you check on this, please?" she asked while handing him a slip of paper.

He glanced down at the note, nodded his head to indicate to the lovely Vampire he would indeed be able to do whatever it asked, she smiled back and followed the other three Superiors as they went out to get in the pickup truck.

"Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Do you think they have a chance to win?"

"Oh, yes, Johnny, I do"

"What are their odds?"

"Odds for what?"

"What are the odds they're going to win?'

"Oh, I would never bet against them."

"But what are their odds, Nat?"

"It depends, Johnny."

"On what?"

"On you."

Chapter 26

The final leg of our trip was driven in relative silence because everyone was considering what Nat bestowed upon them, I say relative silence because...

"Trudy?" I whispered to the delectable red-head sitting next to me in the back of the pickup truck.

"Yes?"

"What happened to Yin and Yang?"

"We don't really know."

"You don't?"

"No, Johnny, we don't. After the Great Purge..."

"The great what?"

"The Great Purge. The time we recognize when Yang and Merri Li killed a hundred Vampires."

"They killed a hundred?"

"Maybe, we don't really know the exact number but a hundred's a pretty good estimate."

"Wait a second. Didn't you say the other Vampires offered Yang a mate in exchange for killing Merri Li?"

"Yes and no. What I said was the Vampires in First Clan made Yang an offer they thought he couldn't refuse and, technically, they were right."

"What was the offer?"

"If he conspired with them to kill Merri Li he could have any Vampire he wished."

"And he agreed?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"Well, this is where it gets a little murky because those who were present haven't really been forthcoming with their knowledge and..."

"Hold on."

"Yes?"

"Haven't been?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'haven't been'; it implies they're still around."

"Yes."

"What? They're still alive?"

"Oh, sure, why wouldn't they be?"

"Because it was like two hundred years ago or something."

"Uh-huh."

"There are Vampires around who were alive when Yin and Yang were around?"

"Uh-huh."

"Quit saying that."

"Saying what?"

"Saying 'uh-huh' like it's an easy concept to grasp."

"But it is, Johnny; we Superiors live the lifespan we were designed to live."

"What lifespan is that?"

"About two-thousand years, give or take a hundred."

"Two-thousand? Are you kidding?"

"No, why would I?"

"I don't know why, but it sounds pretty incredulous."

"Why?"

"Because people don't live that long."

"Sure they do. Well, they don't now but they did and still could if there were no disease."

"What are you talking about? People live like, what, a hundred years if they're lucky?"

"Yes, now they live a hundred years but it wasn't always so. In fact, there's written proof man can live a thousand years or at least come close to it."

"Huh?"

"Abraham, he lived eight hundred years."

"What, the guy in the Bible?"

"Yes."

"But it's just a parable isn't it?"

"Johnny, ask yourself, in all the holy texts where did they ever get specific?"

"Um, when they talked about God."

"No, they didn't. They never gave any specification as to what God looks like did they? The closest any of them came was the Christians who said Jesus was made in the image of God. What's an image, Johnny?"

"A reflection?"

"No. it's a vague term used to describe something which resembles something else. It's purposely used to emphasize what is being discussed is not, in reality, an exact representation of what it's supposed to reflect."

"Huh?"

"The Holy books are vague. They're written as stories and parables so modern man can relate them into his life. It would be foolish for a text to be written in such a way future generations could not do so and the Holy books are not foolish."

"But, you just said they were vague."

"Yes, they were vague in order to get their point across; Follow these rules and eternal salvation can be yours."

"So, how does that prove man can live a thousand years?"

"They were vague in virtually every subject of menial importance except age, Johnny, in that they were pretty specific."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why would one write a book explaining the meaning of life and start out by describing a lifespan the readers would immediately reject as impossible?"

"I don't know, to prove a point, I guess?"

"What point?"

"That man used to live a long time?"

"They could've used three hundred years. In fact, they could've used any number of years under the eight-hundred mark and been more readily comprehensible to the reader at the time but they didn't, they stuck with their eight-hundred years and the readers believed them. Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because they inherently know they were meant to live longer."

"Oh."

We drove along in further silence until I remembered...

"Trudy?" I whispered.

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What did Abraham living eight-hundred years have to do with Yang's decision to murder Merri Li?"

"Nothing, it was merely a point I made to prove Humans could, and should, live longer."

"Oh... Trudy?"

"Yes?"

"What happened to Yang and Merri Li?"

"Well, the Vampires made Yang their offer and he agreed to it. He brought Merri Li to a secluded garden and waited for the Vampire to arrive..."

"Which Vampire?"

"The Vampire assigned to sneak up behind Merri Li and remove her head."

"Oh, that Vampire."

"Yes, that Vampire. So anyway, Yang did as he was bidden and waited until the Vampire assassin was right behind Merri Li and then..."

"Hello, my friends."

"Holy...!" I screamed.

"Hello, Nat" the others said.

... the floating head of Nat Hollowed appeared on the inside of the front windshield of the truck.

Religion has always been fascinating to me because I don't really know where I stand on the subject. Now, down there in the Lone Star State they generally follow the Judeo-Christian form of observance but it doesn't mean they don't allow others to practice what they preach; heck no, they let them believe whatever they want as long as it doesn't involve cutting the heads off chickens or other kinds of foolishness except rattlesnake worship, I guess, because they've got themselves a downright weird set of individuals who practice some kind of snake-worshiping and every once in a while one of them gets bit which gets on the news and makes everyone look like a bunch of insane snake-herding cowboys picking up their God and poking it with a stick. I don't know where those people got the idea a rattlesnake was anything other than an avoidable creature but they did and they make the nightly roundup every time their slithery Demon-God sticks his fangs in their skin.

"I found the information you were looking for, Trudy" said the floating head of Nat.

"Oh?" the lovely Vampire responded.

"Uh-huh."

"What did you find out?" she asked.

"I'm guessing the very thing you suspected, Mistress."

"What? What did you suspect?" Phillip asked while turning his head around to get a better look at his mate.

"I suspected we knew who Steve was the whole time."

"Huh?"

"It seemed a bit of a coincidence we'd somehow let our clients get involved in a Pyramid scheme which would eventually come back to benefit us."

"Oh, so did we, Nat?" asked Phillip.

"Yes, Phillip, you did. You employed Steve as a land surveyor for a few years before his Pyramid scheme took off."

"Crap" said George.

"And did he ever survey the land for us?" asked Trudy.

"That, I cannot tell you, Mistress."

"Why? It's in our records so it should be accessible to us."

"Because you're no longer in possession of your occupation, Mistress, so the information is now not readily obtainable."

"That's okay, Nat, I've got a pretty good idea what happened."

"Really?" asked Phillip.

"Yes" she responded.

"Then could you tell me because I don't have a clue what's going on" I said.

"Thank you, Johnny, because neither do I" Phillip declared.

"Let's play the detective game!" chirped Vivian in her utterly adorable enthusiastic manner.

"The detective game?" I asked.

"It's a game we play to see if we can get our heads together, look at the clues and determine a possible outcome" said Trudy.

"It's a horrible game, Johnny" grumbled Phillip.

"I love the detective game!" exclaimed Vivian.

"Okay, what do we know so far?" asked Trudy.

"We know the Ramos family has possession of our occupation..." said Phillip.

"Got it!" yelled Vivian.

"What, already?" asked Phillip.

"Uh-huh."

"But...? I just..." said Phillip.

"Okay, Vivian, go ahead and tell us" said Trudy.

"But...?" stuttered Phillip bewilderedly.

"Okay, we've got two pieces of land, both with oil under them and one prison sitting on top, right?" said Vivian.

"Yes" replied Trudy.

"We employed Steve as a land surveyor before he built his Pyramid scheme, right?"

"Yes"

"Then obviously we had Steve do a land survey otherwise he wouldn't have requested the sonar survey"

"Um, sorry for butting in, but...?" I said.

"Yes, Sweetie?" asked Vivian.

"Why would it be obvious you had Steve do a land survey?"

"Because of the sonar survey. It involves some pretty expensive equipment and you don't request one unless you have proof there might be something underground which needs discovering."

"Oh, and you think Steve discovered something during his land survey?"

"I know it, Sweetie."

"How?"

"Because there's a big prison ringed with oil wells pumping out his discovery this very minute."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense."

"Now do you know why I hate the detective game, Johnny?"

"Yes, Phillip, I do."

"Okay, so he requested the sonar survey and that's why we're in the position we are today" the blonde Aphrodite finished.

"Huh?" I said.

"You see, Johnny, the game makes no sense" said Phillip.

"Why would his requesting the sonar survey put you in the position you are today?" I asked.

"Because of who did the sonar survey, Sweetie."

"Okay, I'll bite. Who did the sonar survey?"

"Can you tell us, Nat?"

"No, Mistress, I may not."

"That's okay. Nat, how many sonar survey companies are registered in that county?" asked Vivian.

"Three, Mistress. Sonar Incorporated, Sonar-Survey Incorporated and Land Surveyors Incorporated."

"Oh crap" said George.

"What, George?" I asked.

"Land Surveyors Incorporated" he said.

"What about them?" I replied.

"Who's listed as the majority owner of Land Surveyors Incorporated, Nat?"

"There's only one share holder, George."

"And that is?"

"The Ramos family."

We were driving down the stretch of Interstate 35 which was now called only Interstate 35 because, I guess, Mr. or Mrs. Stemmons didn't do enough to earn the double moniker on the whole piece of grey asphalt and it no longer carried the added extra title of Interstate 35 East because somewhere about forty-five miles south of Waxahachie, Interstate 35 East merged with interstate 35 West and became just Interstate 35. Yep, not only do the freeway-namers give one roadway two names; they also, in their infinite wisdom, give two roads one.

"George, how fast are you going?"

"I don't know... ? Um, let's see; ninety-five."

"What's the speed limit?"

"Ooh, I know" Phillip said while raising his hand.

"We're not in class, Phillip."

"So, do you want the answer, Johnny?" Phillip asked.

"Sure."

"It's seventy."

"Uh-huh. So why are we blowing past the number like it didn't exist, George?"

"Because speed limits are stupid."

"Seriously? That's your answer; because speed limits are stupid?"

"Yes."

"Okay, first of all speed limits can't be stupid because they don't have brains and, secondly, they were put in place to keep crazy people from killing sane people with insane driving."

"But there's no one on the road?" he said while passing six cars.

"No one...? You just passed a bunch of...?"

"They didn't count."

"What do you mean they didn't count?"

"They didn't count. They were all bunched up like a school of fish or a pod of whales or something so they don't count."

"What? That doesn't even make sense."

"Yes it does."

"Phillip, did that make any sense?" I asked.

"Um, what part , Johnny?"

"Phillip said he didn't think it made sense either, George."

"No he didn't."

"Well, he would've after he thought about it."

"Then let him think about it."

"Think about what?" Phillip asked.

"Never mind, Phillip. Okay, so if you just ignore speed limits then what's to keep everyone from doing it?"

"Engine size."

"Engine size?"

"Uh-huh. Some of those vehicles out there couldn't beat a go-cart off the line."

"So as long as you have a big enough engine you can just drive as fast as you want. Is that your line of reasoning?"

"Yep."

"What about traffic tickets?"

"I don't get them."

"What do you mean you don't get...?"

And right then, as if on cue, a highway state trooper flipped on his lights and came tires a-spinning from the cozy little nook which had been his ambush-in-waiting site for impatient drivers with eight cylinders or more of dead-dinosaur burning fuel rushing through their injection ports.

"Okay, execute Operation Ticket-Master!" George ordered.

The vivacious Vivian slithered over the console separating the two front seats, grabbed the wheel from George and began steering at the same time George somehow managed to get his bulk off the driver's seat to change locations with her. As soon as they'd finished both Phillip and Trudy did the exact same sequence of events leaving me sitting between two smiling behemoths while the loveliest ladies I've ever seen sat in front.

"May I help you, officer?" the blonde of dreams said.

"Do you know how fast you were driving, Ma'am?"

"I'm sorry officer, I'm taking my two brothers and their friend home to Austin and I need to get me and my sister back to our massage parlor."

"Your massage parlor?" he asked while ogling the two women of seduction and charm.

"Yes, we do Swedish massages and foot rubs and, oh, other massages I can't seem to remember right now. I'm sorry; I get a little nervous around men in uniform."

"Please don't be nervous."

"I can't help it. I need get the boys home and us back in time to heat up the bathing pool."

"The bathing pool?" he asked and I swear I could hear his heart begin to race.

"Yes, it's something my sister thought up. You see, me and her oil up and get in the bathing pool so we're all nice and hot then we have our customer get in so we can begin easing his tension."

"And does that... uh... work?" he queried with sweat flowing down his forehead.

"It seems to officer. We haven't tried it on a policeman yet, but... Oh! Would you like to give it a try?"

"Yes!" he actually yelled.

"Okay, is it all right if we go then?"

"Yes, but where is your massage parlor? I could be there by..."

I never heard the last of the young law enforcer's question because before he could finish Vivian had floored the accelerator and we left him standing there, mouth agape, in the sweltering Texas heat dreaming of body rubs and bathing pools.

"That's why I never get speeding tickets, Johnny."

"Yes, I can see that, George."

Austin is a cool town. It's probably the most artistic town in Texas when it comes to music and it's known for nightclubs. Named for a great man who must've done great things to have the greatest state in the greatest country name their capitol after him, Austin is both eclectic and laid back, rich in tolerance and low in sensibility. It has a small-town vibe with big-city money because two very important institutions call Austin their home; the University of Texas and the money-grubbing elected officials which make up the State Legislature.

"George, where are we going?"

"To the University."

"Why?"

"We want to find out a few things before the Judgment tonight."

"Like what?"

"Oh, little things, like why the State would agree to place a reformatory on someone else's land and let a private, for-profit company run the place for starters."

"Why don't you ask Nat?"

"Because what we're looking for won't be written down in any books."

"It won't?"

"Nope."

Austin is home to the greatest institution of higher learning in the entire universe; the afore mentioned University of Texas. Now, I'm sure a lot of other universities believe they have a claim to the title 'Greatest University in the Universe' but they're wrong. Oh, they might have a better Law or Business Management program but, hey, what are those things really worth in the long scheme of life?

LOT'S OF MONEY.

That's right, other than occupational success, not so much. But the University of Texas has what all others wished they had; the greatest college football team in the universe. Uh-huh, that's right, the University of Texas Longhorns. Burnt orange in color, fierce on the battlefield and boasting some of the hardest warriors their high schools could artificially graduate. They've got pride, they've got tradition and they've got the best darn mascot who's ever trotted out on the playing field; a big old bull of a steer they like to call Bevo. Horns ten feet wide and eyes the color of steel this massive bovine strides out of the locker room after giving his impassioned pre-game speech and takes his rightful place in the end-zone daring... JUST DARING!... the opposing team to try and put the pigskin over the line.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Where are we going?"

"To Sixth Street."

"But I thought you wanted to go to the University to get information?"

"I changed my mind."

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"You missed the exit, didn't you."

"Yes, I missed the stupid exit! Are you happy? You got me all worked up over the stupid speed limits and I missed the stupid University exit!"

"George?"

"What, Johnny?"

"You just missed the Sixth Street exit."

"Son of a...!"

Chapter 27

The heart of the nightlife district resides on Sixth Street, located a short taxi ride from either the University or the State Capitol Building; both institutions known for their hard-partying ways. Sixth Street is merely the name designation for the street, it means nothing else and is bordered by Fifth and Seventh which also have what Sixth contains: every form and make of nightclub imaginable. Now, I mentioned before the four distinct club areas which Dallas boasts because its governors decided to zone the city in such a way as to promote the four districts and I think it was a brilliant idea. Dallas is a large and sprawling metropolis where people have decided to settle down and do what Dallas was born to do; make a ton of money. Since they settle down they have children who've grown up there so they understand its geography and can at least partially understand its roadway system. Since they understand approximately where things are located in Dallas they have the ability to grasp the concepts of where each of the four nightclub districts are in relation to each other. Austin wasn't founded on commerce; it was founded first as the State Capitol and later integrated the University into its cultural makeup. Neither one of these cultural defining institutions leads one to think about settling down unless one is a hippy professor or a smarmy lobbyist because both institutions have one thing in common; a relatively short lifespan for those entering their sacred doors. Universities want you out in about four to six years and the people of the Great State of Texas usually want their representatives out in about, oh, one day after waking up with a hangover and wondering what in their inebriated minds they were doing when they voted the lying scoundrel of a cheat into office.

"I love Sixth Street" Phillip said with his excitable little boy-like charm dressed up in seven-foot murdering Werewolf clothing.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, I spent a lot of my college years down here" I replied.

"Is that why...?" the lovely Trudy began.

"Yeah, that's why" I ended for her.

"What? What's why?" Phillip inquired.

"Really, Phillip? Have you not been following along? He's explaining why after eight years..."

"Six" I corrected.

"...why after six years he could only graduate with a degree which offers virtually no chance of actual employment" the gorgeous red-head said by way of explaining something I'm not sure I agreed with but couldn't really argue with since I never took debate classes because I didn't need them to graduate with my degree in 'general knowledge' with a minor in 'lack of specificity'.

George and Vivian dropped me, Trudy and Phillip off on the preferred street of intoxication for the citizenry of Austin and while they went to the University to learn whatever it was they were looking for to thwart the will of the Ramos family and reoccupy their occupation it gave the three of us ample opportunity to partake in the establishments dedicated to the sole purpose of removing whatever tidbits of information the University had tried so expensively to impart on our younger generation.

"Ooh! A tattoo parlor."

"Do you really want a tattoo, Phillip?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Ooh! Maybe we can all get tattoos?"

"Why would we all get tattoos, Phillip?" I asked.

"So we could show people we all belong to the same family; you know, kind of like the old motorcycle gangs did."

"I don't want a tattoo."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I don't belong to a motorcycle gang and the sight of needles makes me faint?"

"It wouldn't work for us anyway, Phillip" said Trudy.

"Why, Mistress?"

"Because they take this tiny needle, dip it in ink and jam it into your arm about a thousand times. Unfortunately, we heal too fast for the effects to take hold so... Johnny?... Johnny?"

I awoke to the sight of the beautiful red-headed Vampire with wicked oratory skills leaning over me as I lay on my back in the middle of the sidewalk where I'd fainted at the mere mention of needles being jabbed over and over into my pale, quivering flesh of virgin skin.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Are you through with the needle poking story?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm okay."

"Hey, Johnny?"

"Yes, Phillip?"

"You want to go in there and get some lunch?" he asked, pointing out an establishment which was most definitely a nightclub, but this was the daytime so many nightclubs do what's necessary to survive when their main patrons are still sleeping off their last night's evening of debauchery; they serve the best darn lunchtime hamburgers ever invented.

"Heck yeah!" I answered because it'd been at least an hour since my last meal.

We entered what could only be described as a modern-day, wild-western saloon complete with a super-long bar, small round wooden tables and a bartender who appeared he'd been one of his own patrons the night before.

"Hi, folks, what can I get you?" he asked in the cool bartender way which makes you feel right at home and ready to drink some really strong man-liquor like scotch or whiskey or...

"I'll have an iced tea."

"Ooh, me too."

"Make it three and some menus, please."

I could tell he was disappointed and I couldn't blame him. He'd probably spent a lot of hours learning how to make drinks which would send people into a state of complete insubordination and he probably envisioned himself working diligently behind a thirty-foot slab of polished mahogany made for the express purpose of sliding a flaming cocktail down its lacquered exterior to the waiting hands of an experienced sot but, instead, he got us; sitting in barstools available because no one in their right mind would drink a concoction which would send them to sleep at the prime time of two in the afternoon.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked us after about five minutes.

"Uh-huh" Phillip said.

"What can I get you?" he asked.

"Three Triple-Meat Rodeo Burgers with fries, please."

"Okay. And what can I get for you, sir" he asked me and I knew right then that deliverer of substitute companionship for men who couldn't find dates was going places. The man had observational skills. He took one look at Phillip and decided a seven-foot individual would not order only one hamburger so he took his order and moved on to me. Now, you may be wondering why he didn't do the socially acceptable thing and ask Trudy what she wanted first?

NOPE, NEVER EVEN ENTERED MY MIND.

The obvious reason was because Trudy was doing the cute things girls do with a menu; she was reading the entire thing, word for word, in order to see if something jumped off the page and struck her as the best culinary delight available. This needs to stop. The taste buds and the brain are not on the same wavelength. We all know Spinach is good for us but our taste buds don't like Spinach. But sometimes those clever menu writers word things in just such a way we get confused. Maybe we do like Spinach after all? Maybe we've just never had it prepared the proper way? So, we give in and order what they're selling and we're always left wondering... Why? Why did I do that? I know I don't like Spinach...?

We finished eating and Phillip rose because he saw one of those video golf games; the one where you slam your hand down on this weird spinning orb and the imaginary golf ball takes flight on the screen giving you the feeling you actually could hit a golf ball if someone would give you the chance so you go to the driving range and discover you don't actually have the ability to hit a stationary egg perched on a toothpick.

I LOVE THAT GAME!

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What happened to Yang and Merri Li?"

"Where was I?" she asked.

"Yang and the sneaky Vampire assassin were about ready to kill Merri Li so the Vampires could remove Yin from power and Yang could take his pick of any Vampire he wanted."

"Good summary."

"Thank you."

"Okay, so Yang lured Merri Li into the garden and the assassin Vampire snuck up behind her..."

"Hold on."

"Yes?"

"I thought you said Superiors couldn't sneak up on one another because you could smell them or something?"

"We can detect their pheromones, yes."'

"What's a pheromone?"

"Basically, one's overall scent."

"Oh, okay, please go on."

"Sure, but I think you're forgetting one thing."

"What?"

"Yang's ability to render our scenting abilities useless. Remember when Yin and Yang were in the Cave of Confrontation ripping the heads off the other baby Werewolves?"

"Yes."

"Well, they were able to do it because Yang, while in the womb, developed the ability to render himself harmless to Yin in order to survive. Yang's blood, his pheromones, made it appear to Yin that Yang was essentially a part of him."

"So, what...? Okay I'm not following you?"

"Yin and Yang shared the same blood but Yin's blood made him a perfect killing machine while Yang's made him the opposite."'

"What was that?"

"Sedation. Yang's blood, his scent, calmed and tranquilized in a way Superiors not only did not see him as a threat, they couldn't even register others who were threats if he was in the vicinity. He was a Cloak, Johnny, same as you. The only one who could scent other Superiors in Yang's presence was Yin. Since they shared the same blood Yin was, in essence, scenting himself and thus impervious to Yang's cloaking ability."

"Let me get this straight. Superiors can smell others Superiors from a long way away, right?"

"Yes."

"So you can't get snuck up on."

"Yes."

"Unless Yang is around because his scent cancels out other Superiors' scents."

"Yes, well, now unless you're around but back then it was Yang, correct."

"But Yin could smell Yang because they had the same blood."

"Yes, Yin could identify Yang because they shared the same blood which allowed him to scent other Superiors when they could not scent him."

"Could we use sense instead of scent? It sounds like we're talking about dogs."

"Well, we are talking about Wolves but, okay, we'll use sense if you want to."

"Thank you , Trudy."

"You're welcome, Johnny."

"So, because I blood-bonded with you, you can sense other Superiors when I'm around even though they cannot sense you."

"Exactly."

"What's with this whole sensing thing? Why is it such an advantage?"

"Because it's the best long-range detector of danger."

"What about sight or sound?"

"You can hide behind trees and you can walk softly but you can't change your pheromones."

"What about perfume?"

"It only adds a layer of aroma; we can sense through those rose petals without a problem."

"Okay, it gives you an advantage, so what?"

"Johnny, all Wolves are top predators. Now, there are differences between them, sure, like which one is stronger or which is faster but they're still top killers on the planet. Now, the hierarchy was designed so the strongest Wolves would mate with the most cunning Vampires which would ensure the leaders of our clans would be the best among us. So in order to prove themselves Wolves square off and fight to see who the dominant Wolf is. You with me so far?"

"Yes, Wolves fight for their bride."

"And Vampires are chosen according to cunning and guile."

"Guile?"

"Cleverness."

"Okay."

"Well, what were to happen if two Alphas were to fight but one of them had both arms tied behind his back."

"The one with the free arms would win."

"Yes, and that's what Yang gave Yin; an advantage over every other Werewolf he didn't even need because he was already the most dominant Wolf in the Pack."

"So Yin was a Super-Wolf?"

"With Yang in his presence, yes."'

"What if Yang wasn't in his presence?"

"Then he would be the most dominant Wolf but, as was shown when he was fighting the Elder Wolves of First Clan for the right to rule, he could be bested by three Wolves at once."

"Wow, so what does this have to do with Merri Li?"

"Well, when the Vampire assassin was sneaking up on Merri Li she probably felt a little trepidation because while she could see Merri Li and hear Merri Li she could not scent Merri Li."

"Because Yang was there."

"Uh-huh. Yang was used to mask the presence of the approaching assassin."

"And...?"

"The Vampire struck, Merri Li ducked and Yang removed the assassin's head with a sword."

"What? Why?"

"Remember what they offered for his help?"

"Yeah, any Vampire he wanted."

"Well, he wanted Merri Li."

Trudy got a call informing her Vivian and George were done and on their way to pick us up so we got off our barstools, paid the bartender and hollered for Phillip to meet us outside. We then went out into the blistering hot heat which is a Texas afternoon and after a minute or so Phillip joined us.

"Did you break all the video-golf records?" I asked Phillip as he appeared from the bar and restaurant.

"No, not exactly" he replied in kind of a weird way.

"Not exactly? What does that mean?" I asked.

"You know what, why don't we walk a little ways down and wait for them around the corner?" he said as his eyes shifted back toward the restaurant.

"Around the corner? Then how would George and Vivian find...?" I started but didn't finish because...

"Excuse me, sir?"

... the bartender from the establishment appeared.

"Yes?" I replied.

"Not you, sir" he said and I turned to look at Phillip because he was the only other 'sir' in the group but he had his back to us which I thought was kind of rude since it was impossible not to hear the nice bartender who'd just fed us tasty meat-burgers.

"Phillip? Hey, this man wants you" I said and received no reply.

"Hey, Phillip!" I waved my arms and got ignored.

"Phillip! Yoo-hoo, Phillip! Down here! It's Johnny, Phillip!"

I probably would've kept on getting ignored if it weren't for...

"Phillip?"

... Trudy, green-eyed, red-headed Goddess of everything good and Vampiry.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"What did you do, Phillip?" she asked.

"It wasn't my fault, Mistress."

"I didn't say it was your fault, Phillip. Now, what happened?" she said politely.

"The machine cheated" he said.

"The machine cheated?" I asked.

"Yes, I rolled the little ball-thing perfectly and should've gotten a hole in one but the machine put me in a sand-trap instead."

"You don't think you might've mis-rolled?" I asked.

"No, I can't mis-roll."

"Really? That's so cool! Hey, we've got to go bowling some time, I bet..." I began but was cut off when...

"The machine can't cheat, sir."

... the bartender spoke.

Okay, to any aspiring bartenders out there you need to get a few things correct.

WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?

Be quiet, I'm feeling a tirade coming on. Okay bartenders, first, your job isn't really hard. You pour overpriced liquid brain-fog into tiny glasses which usually lead to projectile vomiting and unwanted child support payments. Second, you get paid well for doing so because you usually get ten to twenty percent of the total bill for slinging the absurdly expensive liquid of future regret and you spend about forty-five seconds per customer doing so. That's some pretty good money there! Third, you get a little bit of power because you're the one doling out what we want to buy and you can say 'no' by pointing at the stupid sign which reads 'We Reserve The Right To Refuse Service'. That's pretty arrogant, don't you think?

NOT IF CUSTOMERS DON'T COME FIRST.

Name another business which hangs a sign saying 'We Might Not Like You!'. So it's understandable if sometimes you get the idea you're pretty cool. Heck, you probably are because, after all, you got the job paying dentist's wages for doing cafeteria work but don't let it go to your head because...

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Are you going to kill the bartender?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet, Johnny."

... you might find yourself staring eye to eye with a seven-foot Werewolf who took offense when you challenged whether or not he was being truthful about putting his fist through your video game because it cheated him. How does a five-foot ten-inch bartender see eye to eye with a seven-foot Werewolf you ask?

HE GETS HIS HEAD REMOVED.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, sir... I must have been mistaken..."

He gets picked up by his hair, of course.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What happened to Yang and Merri Li?"

"Well, after Yang beheaded the assassin Vampire they went to Yin and explained what they'd done. Yin listened, pondered what the conspiring Vampires tried to do and forgave Yang for cutting the attacker's head off."

"He forgave him?"

"Yes."

"What did he need to forgive Yang for? He was only protecting Merri Li."

"Yes, but it's forbidden for a Wolf to kill a Vampire."

"But Yang wasn't a Wolf."

"Yes he was and so are you."

"I'm a Wolf?"

"Yes, and an exceptional one. Oh, you don't have all the physical gifts of your brothers but you're still a Wolf."

"Cool; um, so what happened next?"

"What had to happen."

"What was that?"

"The Wolves of First and Second Clan attacked."

Chapter 29

Nightclub districts during daytime are a little disappointing, probably because they were designed to be viewed by streetlamp instead of sunlight so maybe there's an architectural aspect which makes them appear dull when seen in full light or maybe it's because the owners of the place only come at night when the money is pouring in so they don't see the blemishes apparent during the golden hours but, whatever the reason, they tend to look drabby. The good thing about visiting them during daylight hours is parking's readily available.

"Hey, Sweetie, you ready to go?" the beautifully blonde Vivian yelled from the passenger side of the pickup as she and George arrived.

"Um, just a second and I'll check, okay?" I replied.

"Sure, Sweetie."

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Are we ready to go?"

The giant Wolf glanced at me then at the quivering bartender he was holding by the hair who was still stammering...

"... so sorry, sir... my mistake... so sorry, sir..."

"Yeah, let's go" Phillip replied as he tossed the dispenser of liquid courage back inside the establishment dedicated to the idea with enough rot-gut poison even the comeliest of women can find the man of her dreams.

We had a little time to kill so we decided to do what rational people everywhere do when they visit the greatest capitol in the world; we went to get Tex-Mex food! Okay, here's the rundown in order of flavorful delight for those who don't know what fine dining really is. First, there's the enchilada, second comes the taco, third the burrito and, bringing up the rear but by no means a last place finisher, the fajita. All are perfection if one wishes to savor nourishment and quell hunger. They can be eaten for breakfast, lunch or dinner and make fine snacks during those moments when you've got to eat but don't have the time. What do you do?

I MAKE THE TIME.

Why, you reach down in your pocket, pull out your taco, remove the protective sandwich bag and munch away. Now, if you're the type of person who isn't so careful with a taco in your pocket, well, choose the old enchilada as your snack-cake of choice. It's already soft and deliciously mushy so you've got yourself a south-of-the-border power-bar. Just think of the sandwich bag as the wrapper and move it down as you work your way through the ecstasy of the tortilla, cheese and meat delicacy. Now, some of you might be thinking the burrito is the perfect on-the-go-food for the man who has everything and you've got a point because it does already come in its own edible shell of tastiness but others might lean towards the fajita as a substitute for, let's say, a granola bar, and you'd be right also. You see, when it comes to all around super-flavor sensation Tex-Mex stands alone, atop of the food pyramid so to speak, as the undisputed champ of flexible-edible delight.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Are you going to eat that taco?"

"If you grab that taco you lose your hand."

"Okay, just checking, thanks for the heads up."

"You're welcome."

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Did you learn what you wanted at the University?"

"Kind of. We found out how we got the State to put a Reformatory on private lands and let us run it."

"Really? How?"

"We bribed them."'

"You bribed them?"

"Yep, we told the State Department of Housing if they could get permission from the landowner then we would fund the construction of the building and run the Reformatory with charitable donations only."

"Wow! That was nice of you."'

"Yep, kind of weird, though, since we're not in the Being Nice business either."

"How'd you find out?"

"We talked to the secretary of the Secretary of Housing and Land Development."

"The secretary of the Secretary?"

"Yep."

"Why not the Secretary himself?"

"Because the current Secretary is not a he, the Secretary's a she who's only been on the job for a little over a year so she wouldn't be any use to us if we're looking into something which happened eight years ago. The previous Secretary of Housing was a he and it was under his watch all this occurred. "

"Eight years ago?"

"Uh-huh. That's when we were awarded the contract to finance, build and house the Reformatory for Wayward Youth."

"I'm just curious; wouldn't a reformatory fall under the guidance of the Security Tribe?"

"No, Sweetie" said Vivian.

"Why not?"

"Because they're not convicts, silly, they're little kids who lost their way."

"Oh, um, okay, I forgot where we were."

"Thank God! So did I and I'm so glad I'm not the only one" said Phillip.

"We were finding out how we found out why we were able to build the Reformatory on private land" said Trudy.

"Oh, yeah, so how'd you find out?"

"We talked to the Secretary's secretary, Sweetie, haven't you been following along?" said Vivian.

"Apparently not. So you talked to the Secretary's secretary and she told you... Hold on. Why would the Secretary's secretary know more than the Secretary?"

"Because the secretary is a government employee, Sweetie, who works for the State so she has job security and seniority which makes her, in essence, the most knowledgeable person in the room at any given time" answered Vivian.

"And she was around eight years ago?"

"She's was around twenty years ago, those secretaries secretate for life" said George.

"Secretate?"

"Yeah, what else would you call what secretaries do?"

"I don't know... secrete? Oh no! That wouldn't sound good, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't" George said.

"Okay, so what did you learn?"

"We learned that the Secretary of Housing and Land Development had been going through a bit of a slump at the time. You see, the price of land had risen and the State was having a tough time finding places to put all their wayward children so when we came in and offered to help reduce the problem at no cost to them, well, he jumped at the idea."

"He really liked it, huh?"

"No, he actually jumped. The way the secretary put it he was a male cheerleader in college so when he got the offer he literally jumped over and over again. She said it looked like a person who needed to use the restroom but couldn't find the facilities."

"Yeah, I know the problem, you know what I mean?"

"Not really, Johnny, no" replied George.

"What? Really? Why, do you have some sort of warning device? Because I was thinking a little color coded strip on your finger would work pretty darn..."

"No, we don't have a warning device" said George.

"Then how do you...?"

"We suffer; we suffer in agony for horrible periods of time."

"Whew, I'm glad it wasn't just me."

"It's not just you. Why, I remember one time at this outlet mall Trudy wanted to go to; the ones where they've got all those pent up clothes who need an outlet I guess... well, they were still under renovation and..." Phillip said.

"Phillip" Trudy said.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I'm still eating."

"Oh, yeah, probably not the best lunch topic."

"So anyway, we were awarded the right to run the Reformatory around the same time Bob was being prosecuted for his temporary housing hut and convenience store scam" George began.

"Hold on. Did you say you got permission before you offered to lease her land?" I asked.

"Yep, apparently we knew right away there was oil under Bob's mom's land."

"Because you hired the company who did the sonar survey on Steve's land" I said.

"Uh-huh, but that's not all" George replied.

"Yeah?" asked Phillip.

"Yeah, the secretary remembered the meeting we had with the previous Secretary of Housing, the one where we offered to fund the construction and run the Reformatory, and do you know why?" he asked.

"Why?" Phillip answered.

"Because the person we sent apparently left a rather strong impression with the Secretary of Housing, so strong he walked around for days asking her if she'd seen the wonderful employee of Commercial Property Management, the one with the striking violet eyes."

"Melissa?" I asked, somewhat stunned.

"The very one" he replied.

"But that was eight years ago! She would've only been, what, sixteen at the time?" I said.

"No, Sweetie, Melissa's a Vamp, she'll appear in her twenties most of her life" said Vivian.

"Really?" I asked while peering.

"Yes, Sweetie, and stop staring, it's impolite."

"Sorry, I was just seeing if I could..."

"I know what you were trying to find and, no, I don't have any wrinkles and, no, I'm not telling you how old I am" said Vivian.

"So let me get this straight. Steve was a land appraiser before he got into his pyramid scheme business, right?" I asked.

"Yes" answered George.

"And he worked for you?"

"Yes" he answered.

"So, he finds land he previously surveyed and thinks there might be oil underneath. Hold on. Why would he wait so long if he knew there was oil underneath it?"

"Because it's not an exact science and it's pretty expensive to do a thorough sonar survey" he explained.

"So he waited because...?"

"Because he finally made enough money from his pyramid scheme to take the chance and do the sonar survey."

"Okay, so he hires..."

"Land Surveyors Incorporated."

"... to do the sonar survey and they discover oil but not only on Steve's property, also on his neighbor's, Bob's mom's land, right?"

"Uh-huh" he replied.

"And Melissa worked for Land Surveyors Incorporated at the time?"

"Yep, she was a brand new employee."

"Really, she was a young Vampire?"

"Nope" he replied.

"Huh?"

"She was recently unattached, her mate had been killed."

"How did he die?"

"He challenged an Alpha."

"He challenged an Alpha?"

"Yes, the Alpha was placed in charge of the investigation of a Catastrophe; a Catastrophe Melissa was involved in because of her previous occupation."

"What was her previous occupation?"

"Blood screener."

"She was a blood screener? Oh, hold on, you mean at the blood bank on Hillcrest where she and I worked together?"

"Yep, she was a member of the Food Tribe and was responsible for screening the blood of those who gave for pregnancy."

"You mean the pregnant Vampires in hibernation?"

"Yes, she was in charge of the blood which killed one of our Vamps. Peter was placed in charge of the investigation and determined it was Melissa's fault the tainted blood got through."

"What happened?"

"Peter brought the charge to the Council, Melissa's mate challenged Peter for her honor, the Council allowed it to happen and Peter ripped his head off in about thirty seconds."

"My God!"

"Yeah, he really shouldn't have challenged Peter but I guess he felt obligated even though they'd only been mated for a week or so and..."

"A week?"

"Yep, Melissa just showed up one day; said she'd gotten tired of the old ways in First Clan and wanted to see what all the fuss was about in the new world so she picked Food Tribe and began in the blood bank working her way up the ladder which was pretty impressive since she was still unattached and all."

"She was unattached?"

"Sure. What, do you think First would let a mated Vamp out of their clan?"

"I have no idea what First Clan would do, George."

"Well, they wouldn't let a perfectly good Vampire out of their clan, I'll tell you that."

"You think she's got some sort of shady background or something?"

"Maybe, but it doesn't really matter because Third Clan took her in and she began working at the blood bank, found her mate, got investigated and got unattached."

"Wow! Pretty bad luck."

"Even worse; because it turns out she wasn't responsible for the blood mix-up" George said.

"She wasn't?"

"Nope."

"Who was?"

"Well, no one really. It seems the blood came from a poor soul who was a little lost. You see, this particular batch of blood was scheduled to come from one of our nursing home residents, a nice little old lady who had lung cancer which, unfortunately, was too severe to do anything about. So anyway, Melissa went to visit the cute thing and did some blood work which indicted she'd be a perfect candidate for one of our hibernating Vamps so she offered her a chance to do the one thing she'd wanted all her life but had been unable to do."

"What?"

"Take a trip around the world on a cruise ship."

"Ooh, that sounds cool" I said.

"Yes it does, and you'd be surprised how many times the request is brought up when we offer it in exchange for their blood."

"So she took it?"

"Yep, and when the attending Vampire came to pick her up and take her to the transfusion, well, a little mix-up occurred."

"What happened?"

"Her roommate in the nursing home who was supposed to be in a coma apparently had a change of mind about remaining so. She awoke when Melissa was offering our perfect candidate the cruise around the world and decided she'd rather go instead."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes. The little coma-faker smothered our sweet little world-cruiser in her sleep and took her place instead."

"Didn't you have protocols to prevent something like that from happening?"

"Did we have protocols for little old ladies murdering other little old ladies so they could become substitute Zombies? No, Johnny, we didn't, it 'd never come up before."

"The Vampire who took her didn't have a picture of the correct old lady?"

"Oh yeah, she had a picture all right, it's just..."

"What?"

"Have you ever seen little old ladies? They look remarkably similar. You know, grey hair, thick glasses, a cute bewildered expression on their faces and those horrible moo-moo flowered dresses they seem to prefer. Well, the Vampire made the mistake of trusting the little-old-lady murderer and transfused her blood with the pregnant hibernating Vampire's and, well, it didn't end well."

"Why?"

"She had an auto-immune disease. Half the hibernating Vamp's blood was removed, replaced with hers and since the Vamp's own antibodies viewed the new blood as perfectly acceptable... "

"Why would it view the new blood as acceptable?"

"Because auto-immune disease is a tricky little bugger. You see, the immune system of these people is so ramped up it thinks the body is under attack from foreign invaders at all times. Now, this wouldn't normally be a problem for us because our antibodies would start to eliminate the confused antibodies before they could take hold and produce any negative side-effects but when a blood transfusion occurs and so much of the messed up antibodies are dumped into a Superior at one time, well, the Vampire's antibodies started to think maybe there was a foreign attacker so it looked around and sure enough there was another foreign invader inside, lying there siphoning off some of the Vampire's necessary blood..."

"The baby."

"Yep, so the antibodies did what they could and produced swelling and inflammation inside the hibernating Vamp in order to block off the blood flow and kill the infestation."

"How horrible!"

"It gets worse. The child in question was far enough along to recognize it was suffocated so it did fought back which resulted in an artery being shred and the subsequent blood loss which resulted."

"The Vampire couldn't repair herself?"

"Her body tried but the little unborn kept shredding and since no one knew anything was wrong, well, it was too late."

"So the Vampire was killed...?"

"By her own unborn child."

"My God! Well, did she get to take her cruise?"

"Who?"

"The little old lady. Did she get to take her cruise?"

"Did she get to take her cruise? Is that what you're asking? Did the little sadistic roommate-murderer and pregnant-Vampire killer get to take her cruise?"

"When you put it that way..."

"No, Johnny, she didn't get to take her cruise."

"Oh, did you kill her?"

"No, we didn't kill her, we put her back in her room and let nature take its course."

"Really? I would've thought you'd have killed her?"

"Well, we didn't."

"Really?"

"Okay, we might have helped her go a little faster but we didn't actually kill her."

"What'd you do?"

"We made her sign a 'Do Not Resuscitate' order and when she slipped back into a coma since she didn't have help breathing from a respirator she suffocated to death."

"Oh my God!"

"What?"

"You suffocated a little old lady!"

"No we didn't."

"Yes you did!"

"Okay, maybe we did but she deserved it."

"She deserved it?"

"She killed her roommate and one of our Vampires."

"But she was probably deranged!"

"Yes, she was a deranged Vampire murderer."

"She was a little old lady in a moo-moo."

"She was a psychopathic killer in a moo-moo, Johnny, big difference."

"Okay, so anyway, what happened?"

"Well, we felt a little guilty about beheading Melissa's brand new mate so Stephanie offered her a new one from a family below us in Shelter Tribe; the Ramos'."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"What?"

"Stephanie offered her a new one? The Stephanie? You're Matriarch in pregnant hibernation?"

"Our Matriarch in pregnant hibernation and, yes, she offered her a new mate."

"But, didn't you say you'd never seen Melissa before she entered your office?"

"Yes, the only ones in our family who'd seen her before were the ones placed in charge of investigating the Catastrophe."

"So then Peter...?"

"Knew who Melissa was when she entered his office."

"So then...?"

"I think Peter and Melissa were working together on the Trilogy. I think Melissa saw an opportunity to remove Peter from the equation and place her family, the Ramos, in a position to run for Clan Elders. I think Melissa wanted her new mate to challenge for the Alpha of Ramos and reign as its Matriarch which would, in essence, mean she would rule Third Clan."

"Who was her mate?"

"Daniel."

"Daniel? The Werewolf Vivian cut the head off?"

"The very same."

"But I thought Daniel's mate died...? Oh! You mean...?"

"Yep, the very same Vampire believed to have killed his mate was now his mate."

"And Daniel was okay with that?"

"Have you seen Melissa, Johnny?"

"Oh, yeah, never mind. So Steve hires Land Surveyors Incorporated who employ Melissa to do a sonar survey and... hold on... that means..."

"Yep." said George.

"So they knew..."

"Yep, the Ramos family knew the land sat on oil."

"And when you built the Reformatory?"

"They knew we were doing it to eventually acquire the land."

"And when you built the prison with oil wells?"

"They knew we were making a play at the Trinity."

"So they...?"

"Are making the same play; they want to rule Third Clan."

"So Stephanie...?"

"Brought to Shelter Tribe, the assassin of her Wolf."

Chapter 29

Austin has the State Capitol, it has Sixth Street, it has the Greatest University in the Universe and it also has the most rooting-tooting, country-western bar west of the Mississippi; the Lumberyard. Okay, it's not technically in Austin, it's in a little town just north of Austin called Round Rock but it's not pertinent to the story so just forget I brought it up. By the way, why name a town Round Rock?

WHAT ARE YOU GETTING AT?

Don't we inherently think round when we hear rock?

OKAY, I'VE GOT YOU AND, YES, I DO THINK ROUND WHEN I HEAR ROCK.

Why the emphasis on shape?

MAYBE THEY'RE GEOMETRICALLY INTERESTED?

They should shorten it. Think of it as a better conversation starter...

"Hey buddy, where you from?"

"Rock, Texas!"

"Wow! Cool name."

"Thanks; where you from?"

"Waxahachie."

"Oh... sorry."

"Yeah."

Country-western nightclubs are a strange mixture of modern morays and past culture. They bring young people together in a high-tech environment with sound systems which would put most rock concerts to shame but have an unwritten dress-code based on what cowboys wore in the days of yore. Go into a country-western nightclub at night and you'll find the iconic cowboy hat and boots worn on many of the lads in attendance. Both hat and boots were necessary tools of the trade for the grizzly ancestors of the open range because they were needed to stay upright in the stirrups and sheltered from both heat and rain. Go outside and walk around the neighborhood of those nightclubs and you'll find nary a hat nor boot covering anyone for they are no longer necessary in our air-conditioned, sheltered lives.

"George?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Do you need to follow so close to the car in front of you?"

"No, if the car in front of us would speed up I wouldn't."

"But we're in rush-hour traffic; that car can't go any faster."

"If that car would emphasize the point to the car in front of it and then every other car did the same we'd all go faster."

"But it's rush-hour traffic, there's just too many cars on the freeway."

"Doesn't mean we should all slow down."

"What? Yes it does, that's exactly what it means."

"No it doesn't, it means people who are exiting should've already gotten over so those of us not exiting wouldn't have to slow down."

"But...? What if they can't get over?"

"They should've thought of it before they started driving."

Have you ever been the passenger in a vehicle driven by a tailgater?

NO.

It's a horrifying experience; you sit there trying to be polite and not scream in terror as you hug the bumper of the poor unfortunate soul who happened to pick the same lane as the impatient moron you're driving with. You stare at your feet because looking up invariably brings even more terror as you go on the involuntary roller-coaster ride from hell with the person you had no idea was such a complete, selfish, arrogant jerk they would put not only their life at risk but yours and every other person's in the immediate vicinity.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"If I look up...?"

"Yes, if you look up what?"

"If I look up, will George still be two inches from the car in front of us?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

Why is there so much road rage?

THE ROADS ARE ANGRY?

Sigh.

Because everyone believes they're a good driver and everyone else isn't. It's probably due to the inherent selfishness we all possess. We get into enormously powerful machines with the ability to do what we could never think of; travel to grandma's house at the speed of lickety-split and woe be upon anyone who dares get in our way. After all, we know we're a good driver, we've been doing it since we were sixteen after all. How could we not be?

MAYBE YOU WERE NEVER ANY GOOD.

Surely the fool in front of us didn't receive the implied memo stating speed limits are only suggestions; maybe they need a little encouragement?

THAT'S PROBABLY NOT THE WISEST IDEA.

Maybe they're not paying attention?

YOU REALLY SHOULD SEE A PSYCHOLOGIST.

Let's just get right up on their bumper and see if we can help them... That's it.... Just a little faster nice little lady... Oops, watch out for the car in front... oh... Oh My!... That's got to hurt... Well, let's just keep on driving... Nothing to see here, people!... Yep, just keep driving along... la-de-da-de-da... Hey, what's that?... Oh, another driver who didn't get the memo... Well, let's just help them out...

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"How did Yin, Yang and Merri Li get out of their little predicament?"

"They went underground."

"What?"

"They knew Yin couldn't win against all the Werewolves of both clans. Oh, he probably could've holed up in the castle and fought them to a standstill with the help of Yang but he couldn't have actually defeated the number of Wolves who stood against him so he, Yang and Merri Li went underground and began plotting how to reclaim the Eldership."

"How'd they do that?"

"Merri Li began beheading Vampires."

"She...? I can't say I'm surprised but I am a little shocked."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't think she was the beheading kind."

"We're all the beheading kind, it's only matters if the circumstances allow for it or not."

"And their circumstances allowed for it?"

"Well, it was a little extreme, but effective and it did serve its purpose."

"Which was?"

"After Merri Li took the heads of one hundred Vampires the Wolves asked for a meeting with Yin to discuss how to resolve their differences."

"Seriously? Resolve their differences?"

"Yes. Why do you ask it that way?"

"Because you said Merri Li was removing body parts."

"So?"

"She was cutting the heads off people, Trudy, don't you think that's a little more than a difference of opinion?"

"Well, it might be at the very end of the difference spectrum but it's still the most effective way to win your side of the argument."

"By cutting your opponent's head off?"

"Uh-huh, stops the bickering right away."

"Didn't you say they got into trouble because they killed a Vampire? Why would killing more Vampires get them out of trouble?"

"The Wolves weren't revolting because they killed a Vampire, they were revolting because Yang killed a Vampire."

"So it's okay for a Vampire to kill another Vampire but not for a Wolf to do so?"

"Uh-huh."

"But isn't that's discrimination?"

"Yes, I guess it is. Not allowing one group of individuals to kill another group is a form of discrimination but it's a pretty slippery foundation if you're going to argue we should allow for it."

"Why?"

"You're going to argue not allowing Wolves to kill Vampires denies them equal rights?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Who are you going to argue it to?"

"I don't know, don't you have a Supreme Court or something?"

"Yes, we have the Clan Elders."

"Then someone should argue it to them."

"Someone should argue Wolves should be allowed the same rights to kill Vampires as other Vampires?"

"Yes."

"And they should argue it before the Clan Elders?"

"Yes."

"The Clan Elders who are headed by the leading Matriarchs of the most powerful families?"

"Um... yes?"

"The Matriarchs who are, themselves, Vampires?"

"Well. When you put it that way...."

"Vampires who'd be ruling their murderous mates should be afforded the right to rip their heads off if they so desired?"

"Okay, I see your point, my argument has a few flaws but..."

"But what?"

"I don't know, it just doesn't feel right, you know? I mean those poor Wolves seem to getting the short end of the stick here."

"Yes, they are, but it's for their own good."

"How's that?"

"Wolves are bred to kill. They might be good at other things like accounting or salesmanship, for example, but they excel at killing. Vamps, on the other hand are bred to breed. We are the safe-keepers for the continuation of our species so giving those born to destroy the power to end those who give life would be a rather shortsighted victory."

"You think the Wolves would kill the Vampires?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because we don't feel love, at least not in the way Human's do. We feel euphoria at all times so we don't have the emotion of love since we love everything equally."

"Huh?"

"Wolves do not have the emotional ability to overcome their innate need to conquer. They cannot put the welfare of others above their own because they don't retain the ability to love something greater than themselves."

"They sound pretty narcissistic."

"Narcissistic?"

"Yeah, giant ego-maniacs."

"Oh, yes, that would describe them pretty well."

"But Vampires aren't?"

"We are too, we just don't have the ability to do anything about it."

"But if you could...?"

"We would eat those Wolves for lunch."

The freeway system in Austin is a much simpler version than the one in Dallas, probably because the city is much smaller and therefore doesn't have the need for multiple freeways merging at one focal point. The city of Dallas has one such focal point dubbed "The Mix Master"; that's right, like a mixing bowl, and it's a testament to freeway-designing genius in the way it befuddles even the most dedicated commuter. But Austin doesn't have a Mix Master so the freeway designers needed to come up with something different.

"Hey, Joe, what're you working on?"

"Oh, hey Stan, I'm looking at the freeway in Austin and something just doesn't sit right with me."

"What's that, Joe?"

"Well, it just seems a little too easy, Stan."

"Hey! I know. Why don't you remove the service lanes?"

"Ooh, good one. Why didn't I think of it?"

"Hey. You know what else you could do?"

"What, Stan?"

"You could make the on-ramp, like, ten-feet long!"

"Ooh, I like where you're going there, yeah, ten-feet sounds good and, hmm, you know what else?"

"What, Joe?"

"I'm going to put the on-ramp about ten-feet past the stop lights they'll be sitting at."

"Excellent idea! They'll have to go from zero to sixty in twenty feet."

"Uh-huh, and without the service lane they'll need to pray the cars on the freeway will let them enter. What do you think, Stan?"

"I think we've got ourselves a winner, Joe."

Freeways have a huge flaw and it's not actually their fault; it's businesses fault. You see, businesses need customers to survive and freeways have plenty of potential buyers of everything product-related so businesses locate next to freeways. People work in those businesses so they build communities near them which eventually grow into cities which sit on either side of the freeways because why would someone only offer their wares to people travelling south after all?

THAT WOULD BE STUPID.

So freeways essentially run through cities, not by them. Think of a city as a house. Would you run your street through the center of your house?

YES?

No, you'd be a moron to do so.

I MIS-SPOKE. I REALLY MEANT NO.

You'd run your street by your house so you could exit onto your driveway and glide easily into your garage where you could relax and enjoy the calmness and serenity of your abode. But cities aren't houses are they?

NO?

No, they're tens of thousands of houses containing hundreds of thousands of individuals all located in a defined area which a freeway is cutting a swath through in order to get to other cities where it can do the same. Cities are located apart from each other so between them are vast stretches of land not populated by the teeming masses so people drive relaxed and effortlessly on them until they arrive at the next city where they are greeted with thousands of cars and trucks trying to enter the same hundred-foot patch of mortar and sand which are the foundations for those pathways of Human confusion, misery and rage.

"How did they resolve their differences, Trudy?"

"Huh?"

"Yin and the Wolves; how did they resolve their differences?"

"The Wolves asked for a meeting with Yin and he granted them one. Once there the Wolves offered Yin the Eldership of Second Clan again but he had to promise them one thing."

"What?"

"He would not rule with Yang at his side."

"What? What right did they have to even make the offer? It sounds to me like Yin, Yang and Merri Li were whipping up on them."

"They were at the beginning but after the one-hundredth Vampire lost her head the Wolves began placing themselves in protective circles around their Vamps in order to thwart Yin, Yang and Merri Li which gave them a chance of striking a lucky blow to end the three."

"Huh?"

"At the beginning of the rebellion Yin, Yang and Merri Li would use Yang's cloaking abilities to sneak up on an unsuspecting family. Once there Yin would kill the Werewolves by surprise while Merri Li would do the same to the Vampires. Now, this went on for months but eventually their little ploy was up because the flaw in their scheme was unveiled."

"What flaw?"

"Without Yang; Yin and Merri Li were vulnerable."

"Huh?"

"When the three attacked their final time Yang got too close to the action, was wounded and barely survived. Once the Wolves figured out instead of fighting Yin with all three Wolves they would fight him with only two and let the third take on Yang, Yin knew the game was up. Yang was no match for a Vampire let alone a Wolf and Yin figured, rightfully so I believe, his game of rule by assassination was over because sooner or later Yang was going to lose his head. So, he agreed to meet with the Wolves, pondered their proposal and after several hours came back with a surprising announcement."

"What?"

"He agreed."

"He what?"

"He agreed with their proposal but he brought up something else the Wolves of First and Second Clan hadn't thought of."

"What?"

"Technically he was still Alpha and Merri Li was still Matriarch of both clans."

"They were?"

"Uh-huh. Technically the Wolves of First and Second Clan were still subject to Merri Li's authority as Matriarch."

"So? They were obviously ignoring it."

"Yes, but they were doing so under the guise that Yin's forgiveness of Yang for the murder of a Vampire was a violation of Clan Law so they could therefore revolt without violating the same Clan Law."

"So?"

"So, Yin rescinded his judgment."

"He what?"

"He ruled he was wrong. He ruled Yang did indeed violate Clan Law and was to be punished accordingly."

"Oh my God! What a traitorous little..."

"Yang got away, Johnny."

"Oh! Oh, that's a much better ending."

"I know."

"How did Yang get away?"

"He walked."

"What? He just walked away?" I asked.

"Yes, he just walked away" Trudy responded.

"How?"

"Remember his talent; he had the ability of sedation, well, I guess acceptance is a better word for it. When he was within the vicinity of other Superiors they not only didn't see him as a threat, their subconscious didn't view him as much of anything. Now, when Yin issued his reversal saying Yang was, indeed, guilty of committing a Catastrophe the Wolves surrounding the meeting weren't paying much attention because, well, the only threat to them was in a meeting with their own representatives so Yang just walked right through them and was lost to time."

"Yin tipped off Yang, didn't he, Trudy?"

"That's one view, the other is Merri Li told him. Either way Yang got the head start he needed to escape."

"So Yin and Merri Li ruled both clans?"

"In a way, yes."

"What do you mean 'in a way'?"

"Well, do you remember Merri Li refused to sire a Superior with Yin?"

"Yes, she was scared Yin's children would eventually destroy the Superiors because of their own superiority."

"That's true. Why do you think she would assume it to be so?"

"Um, because he had super-blood?"

"Also true. But where did the super-blood originate?"

"I don't know?"

"In his DNA; in the very make-up of his genetic code."

"Okay."

"Where do we get our genetic make-up?"

"From cheap beauty salons?"

"No, not from cheap beauty salons. We get our make-up from our Sires, or parents as Humans call them. One half of our code comes from Vampire the other from Wolf."

"So?"

"So, why was Merri Li so sure an offspring of her and Yin would produce a superior Superior?"

"Because Yin had super genes?"

"He did have superior DNA but remember your genes are made up of both Wolf and Vampire. If a Wolf has more superior genes than another Wolf and he were able to copy himself exactly then, yes, his offspring would also have superior genes but it's not how it happens. Half the genes come from the Wolf and half come from the Vampire. So there would be a dilution of the gene if the Vampire were not as superior, correct?"

"I guess so, but..."

"But what?"

"But I'm totally confused now."

"Johnny, why did Merri Li duck?"

"Huh?"

"When the Vampire assassin snuck up behind to take her head, why did she duck?"

"Because Yang told her to?"

"In a way that's correct."

"Why are you being so mysterious with your answers, Trudy?"

"Because it's fun and I'm hoping you'll guess the truth."

"Okay, Merri Li ducked because Yang told her to right?"

"In a way."

"Okay, good enough. So, let's see, Yang and Merri Li, Yang and Merri Li..."

And then I got it. It must have been evident because Trudy nodded her head and said...

"Yes, Johnny."

"You mean?"

"Yes, Merri Li could detect Superiors in the presence of Yang."

"How? Did she blood-bond with him like we did?"

"'No, not like we did."

"Then how?"

"Their bond ran deeper."

"Huh?"

"They shared half the same genes."

"Huh?"

"Merri Li was one the twin illegitimate daughters of Joan of Arc."

"Uh-huh."

"Merri Li's Sire was spurned by her other Sire."

"Huh?"

"Merri Li's other Sire was also the Sire of the Matriarch of Satan."

"And...?"

"Merri Li was the half-sibling to Yang."

"What?"

"Yin, Yang and Merri Li were of the same blood."

"What?"

"The Wolf of Satan, Lucifer, begot all three of them."

Chapter 30

We arrived at the Lumberyard precisely at seven and were stopped at the entrance to the parking lot by what had to be a Werewolf in a black uniform sporting a wicked looking pistol strapped to the side of his right thigh. He held his hand up to indicate we should halt which we did because of said firearm, he glanced inside the truck, took one look at George and Phillip, lingered on the lovely ladies and glanced right past me.

"LeTorque?" he asked.

"Yes, Benjamin, you know it's us" replied George.

"You smell different, George" he said.

"Yeah, well you smell like..."

"George!" snapped Vivian.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Oh, never mind... Benjamin!"

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Let us through."

"Yes, Mistress."

We drove into the enormous parking lot and pulled into one of the spaces available. The lot was filled with the most amazing array of vehicles ranging in size from large to enormous which I was drooling over because not one of them could've cost less than sixty grand. We got out and I ogled.

"Is that a...?"

"Uh-huh."

"But it's got a...?"

"Uh-huh."

It was a military style Hum-Vee, completely black, sitting about five feet off the ground on a set of the meanest looking tires you've ever seen and mounted on top was a machine gun.

"Is that even legal?"

"It is for them" said Phillip.

"Who are they?"

"Betas from Security Tribe."

"Betas?"

"Uh-huh."

"But I thought..."

"Thought what?" asked Phillip.

"I guess I thought Betas would be loners; you know, biding their time to catch a Vampire or fighting in some ring somewhere to find their hierarchy or something?"

"Nope, we Wolves fight early to determine hierarchy. Afterward, if we aren't chosen as a mate, we get on with our lives until we are."

"Huh. Well I guess it makes sense. So, do you have to choose a tribe?"

"No, you can go it alone but it's a pretty risky proposition" he replied.

"Why?"

"Well, we're tribal in nature. Once we pick a tribe we become loyal to it. You see, we need to fight, it's in our genetic make-up to do so and a tribe allows us the opportunity to refine the instinct."

"Huh?"

"We get to fight other members of other tribes. We can fight them in single combat or in groups so it gives us the best of both possible worlds" he said in all seriousness.

"So if a Beta doesn't pick a tribe?"

"He usually loses his head."

"Oh. Hey! Is that...?"

"Uh-huh."

Green Alien from Heaven, Detective Nat Hallowed.

"Hey guys."

"Hey, Nat" we all said in sing-song harmony. Okay, it wasn't really sin-song and I was the only one who said 'Hey' but it would've been cool if we did, then we could practice other chorus jingles, record an album and off we'd go to the glorious skyscraper in the sky filled with lemon drops and soda pops; a place we in the biz like to call Nashville, or Hollywood, or wherever it is one goes to become a recording superstar making tons of cash and promoting their own clothing line. By the way, what is that?

WHAT IS WHAT?

Isn't making obscene amounts of money and being worldly famous enough for those people?

OH, THAT.

And why do we buy what they're selling?

BECAUSE IT LOOKS GOOD?

Do we really think some thirty-year-old pop singer actually had the time to go to clothing school between world tours?

OH, YEAH, PROBABLY NOT.

"Hey, Johnny?"

"Yes, Nat?"

"I need a few private moments with these four here. Do you think you could wait in my truck while I talk to them?"

"I guess so" I said looking and receiving their assent.

I moved through the parking lot towards Nat's giant police truck which became obvious once I got past the other vehicles which had been blocking it's view since it was the only one not colored some form of black. I got to the passenger side of the vehicle and was about to open the door when I felt a breath of wind hit the back of my neck which for some reason startled me so it turned and saw...

"Steve..."

... Steve, Zombie salesman of Industrial Products standing behind me.

"Aaah!" is what I think I replied because he startled me and by then he had horrible breath.

"Steve..." I began.

"Steve..."

"... don't sneak up on people!" I ended.

He didn't reply, of course, because he was still doing his whole aloof-Zombie thing so I turned back around to open the door when I felt another, slighter hint of a breathe on my neck so I again turned back around, this time a little peeved because diaper-Zombie-boy couldn't follow even the simplest of instructions and saw...

"Grrrr."

... a seven foot Werewolf holding Steve two feet off the ground by the collar of his blue sports coat.

The monster in question was dressed the same as Benjamin, Beta Security Wolf, and he had the same intimidating presence all seven-foot, two-hundred-fifty pound plus individuals possess which was one of incredible arrogance and complete faith they could do as they pleased because, well, what were you going to do about it?

I'D RIP HIS HEAD OFF.

In my case I was going to do nothing; just stand there and say a silent prayer to as many Gods as I could recall. When it comes to my ultimate demise I've found I like to hedge my bet, so to speak. Now, down in the South they trend toward Jesus as the Savior so the first prayer always goes to him but, after that, all bets are off. I will pray to any and every God my memory banks can pull up in a time of stress and I guess it's a matter of faith or lack thereof for the reason why. It's not a lack of faith in God per se, no, it's a lack of faith in the sources dictating which God is the correct God. I believe there's a starting point to everything so I naturally believe in a being, entity or divine spirit responsible for the original beginning but I find it difficult to overcome my doubts as to the irrefutable knowledge some espouse as to what the entity looks like and demands of us. Why do I doubt their sincerity?

BECAUSE YOU DON'T TRUST ANYBODY.

Because anyone claiming to have spoken to God in today's world would immediately be locked in the loony bin. Not those who claim to hear God, they're usually harmless. No, the ones who claim God literally showed himself and gave them information they should write down and pass on to others. It seems if our natural inclination is to disavow these people then why would we believe those whom we never met?

BECAUSE IT'S EASIER TO BELIEVE PEOPLE ARE RIGHTEOUS IF YOU CAN'T SEE THEIR FLAWS.

Maybe they were even loonier than the ones we have today?

IT'S POSSIBLE.

And I have one more slight worry which gives me more pause. What if the other belief is the correct one?

WHAT OTHER BELIEF?

The one where animals are sacred. What if we get to Nirvana and instead of a saintly Angel we're, instead, greeted by a cow?

OH, THAT ONE.

Or a chicken, or a fish, or whatever other creature we've been stuffing down our maw for the past thousand years or so. What are we going to do then?

"Moo!"

"Yeah, sorry about that, but, you see..."

"Moo!"

"Yeah, I hear you, but I just didn't believe them when they said..."

"Moo!"

"Oh, forget about it. Where's that Purgatory place I keep hearing about?"

So there I stood, stock still, as a Security Wolf confronted me while holding my Zombie, a Zombie with a stupid grin on his face, a Zombie with half a suit and diapers residing happily in the clutches of the enormous beast.

"Who are you?" he growled.

"Oh... um... Hi, I'm Johnny Johnson, nice to meet you" I said as I held out my hand.

"What are you doing here?" he said while ignoring my hand.

"I'm here to see the Judgment" I replied which was exactly the wrong reply because he tossed Stevie-boy about fifty-feet away and turned to rip my head off when...

"Stop!"

... Nat showed up.

The Werewolf spun around to confront the Alien who dared tell him to do anything and I stood there in complete terror as I waited to see the Wolf tear apart my green-skinned friend when a weird thing happened.

"Oh, hello, Detective" the Wolf replied.

"Hello, Butch" the detective responded.

"Is he with you?" the Wolf asked.

"Yes, Butch, he is."

"He says he's here to see the Judgment" the Wolf said and something in Nat face registered what I said was the wrong thing to say.

"Um, well yes, Butch, he is here to see the Judgment."

"Only Superiors are allowed; you know that, Detective."

"Yes, true, but in this particular case the young man is a..."

"I'm a...."

I started to say I was indeed a Superior, a Cloak in fact, when two things happened simultaneously. First, Nat's eyes widened in the way which gave the instant impression I was about to sign my death warrant and the second was I recalled something Trudy said a couple of days before.

"You're a what?" the Wolf growled.

"I'm a..." I stammered.

"He's a Zombie, Butch" Nat finished.

"Really? He doesn't look like a Zombie?" the Wolf said as he eyed me even closer.

"He just turned. Go ahead and cut him if you like."

"Now hold on a sec..."

The Wolf sliced me so fast two more things happened in such rapid succession my life was spared because of their speed. First, I never saw him produce the knife which sliced my right bicep to the bone, a slice so fast and deep I didn't have time to comprehend it, a slice so deep the nerves located near the surface were severed so fast the pain had little opportunity to reach my brain before...

"Huh? I guess you're right. Sorry about that, Detective."

... my body started to heal the wound.

"That's okay, Butch, you're just doing your job" Nat replied.

"Yeah, so what's he here for?" Butch asked.

"He's here to act as a witness in the Judgment."

"Okay, but you know he can't enter until the Clan Elders call for him?"

"Yes, I know, Butch. He'll be right here with me in my truck until they do."

"Okay, Nat" the Wolf said as he began to move off.

"Good night, Butch" Nat replied.

"Oh my God! I'm going to die! I can't believe I've gotten myself into this. How could I not have remembered...?"

"Shh! Quiet, Johnny. Wait till we get into my truck."

With shaky hands I managed to open the passenger door of the detective's truck and climbed into the seat, shut the door and waited for the bug-eyed, green-skinned, long-necked, molecular-hologram who was my friend from Heaven to join me.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..."

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Nat?"

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay, I'm anything but okay. I want to leave right now, Nat. Can we do that? Can we leave right now?"

"No, I'm afraid we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the Security Wolves would kill you the second you tried."

"But I'm already dead."

"No, you're not."

"Yes I am. I was about ready to tell him what I was and he would've ripped my head off, wouldn't he?"

"Yes, Johnny, if you'd said what I thought you were about to say he would have."

"Because I'm forbidden to exist, aren't I?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"I'm forbidden to exist by the very people I'm here to meet, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

"What's going to happen?"

"Well, the LeTorque are already in there preparing to plead their side of the case against the Ramos family..."

"What? They didn't even say goodbye."

"They're not gone, they're inside the building you're sitting in front of right now."

"They might as well be gone because the second I go in there I'm a dead man."

"Well now, let's not jump the gun here. Remember, the LeTorque are a pretty resourceful lot. "

"Resourceful enough to reverse a forbidden ruling?"

"Johnny, it's one thing to rule something forbidden, it's quite another to enforce it."

"Huh?"

"You already exist."

"So?"

"So, by definition you've rendered the ruling moot."

"I don't get you."

"Forbidden means not allowed to exist but you already exist so the ruling doesn't apply."

"What?"

"The ruling was put into place so no supplicant would be born in the first place. Forbidden stops the design, or building, of what is not wanted. But you're already here; you exist. Now, they may not want to keep you around and they can order you beheaded but they're walking a fine line if they do."

"Really? Why?"

"Because you're a Superior and a Superior has a few rights which aren't allowed to be violated."

"What are those?"

"Superiors cannot be jailed, Superiors cannot be fined and, most of all, Superiors cannot be put to death by anything but direct combat."

"So... what? If I go in there and they don't like me they'll tell some Wolf to rip my head off? What good does that do me? I'm still dead."

"Yes, true. If they were to rule you were to be tried through direct, single combat then you'd most assuredly be dead. But remember who we're talking about. These people form tight-knit little families which make up a larger tribe. Three tribes make up the clan and three clans rule their society."

"So?"

"So, while they believe in their inherent superiority they're also fiercely loyal to those they believe are part of their family. Basically, they view their family as an extension of themselves."

"So?"

"So, families stick together."

"And...?"

"If you're part of a family and judged deserving of death through combat your family is judged the same."

"So, if they judge me put to death they judge the LeTorque the same?"

"Yes."

"But I thought we were here to judge whether the Ramos family had the right to keep what they stole from the LeTorque?"

"At the beginning it may have been but... Hold on, here comes Butch."

"You're wanted inside" the Security Wolf said to me and began walking toward the entrance to the Lumberyard.

I looked at Nat and he smiled, nodded his head and indicated I should get out and follow the Wolf.

"You're not coming in with me?"

"No, I'm not a Superior."

"So, I'm going in there alone?"

"Yes, it's the way your people like it."

"Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"If I don't come out alive...?"

"Yes?"

"'Well, there's a Zombie in my closet at home and Steve's in the field over where Butch threw him."

"I'll take care of it, Johnny" he said as I exited the coolest cop-truck in Texas and as I made my way to the certain death awaiting me I heard on the wisps of the wind a Zombie's voice reply...

"Steve..."

The entrance to the country-western bar was the same as a thousand others, with two giant wooden doors opening outward so upon entrance you're immediately propelled into another world. The interior lighting was usually dimmed to prepare guests for a night of entertainment without the requirement of full sight because, as we all know, we look better in poor lighting since it hides our blemishes not only from others but also from ourselves.

SPEAK FOR YOURSELF.

On this evening hour, though, the lights were not even on so I entered the club without the aid of even a nightlight for guidance. The first thing I encountered was the wall located about five feet inside the wooden doors which swung shut behind me cutting out any early evening light available which led me to walk headfirst into what was in my path.

"Ow!"

Turning left I encountered the second obstacle on my journey to death; the enormous bulk of a Werewolf who'd been standing in the dark watching me run into the wall.

"Oof! Sorry about that" I said but got no reply, just a hand on my back propelling me forward to greet the end of my earthly existence.

The third obstacle was myself for the interior of the cavernous space was lit by torches which seemed so medieval I actually stopped short which was a mistake because the Wolf behind me did not, so I ended up face down on the thinly carpeted floor where I lay for all of one second before the ghastly beast lifted me to my feet with one hand while not even breaking stride.

The inside of the Lumberyard is vast; innumerable tables are scattered about in some kind of pattern I'm sure someone could make sense of and four separate bars are situated at the four corners of the place. The bars were each individually designed and all were huge. Around each of the mahogany tops surrounding the dens of liquid pleasure were about forty barstools. Inside the mahogany countertops was the promised land; hundreds of bottles offering sublime pleasure to the thirsty buffalo-hunters of the day who frequented the establishment when it was open to the public. It wasn't open then because I and my fellow LeTorque were being judged whether we were worthy enough to remain on this side of the golden curtain of existence.

The bars on the corners were unoccupied and numerous tables were located between them and the dance floor which was protected from the tables by a four-foot leaning-rail which a person could either saddle up to and watch the dancers go round and round or set their drink on so they themselves could go out and perform their own version of the modern day do-se-do. The three families making up the Clan Elders were located on separate sides, six on each, five seated and one standing; the Matriarch. Three Matriarchs stood, holding court on the two families inside the leaning-rail; the LeTorque and the Ramos. I stood at the south entrance to the dance floor and did not move. A hush had fallen over the Elders as I was brought down the aisle and I remember looking to see the one person who'd made the whole drama possible and there she was, to my right, as beautiful as ever and, in the light of the five torches signifying the families involved I swear I saw the amazing violet eyes of Melissa staring back at me.

"You may speak" the Matriarch directly to the front of me said.

"What should I say?"

"Say the truth" replied the Matriarch to my right.

"About what?"

"About why you are here" said the Matriarch to my left.

"Okay, I'm here because that crazy lunatic pulled a gun out of her purse and shot our prospective client in the head five times" I said pointing at Melissa.

Melissa merely smiled back at me.

"We know; but why are you here?" asked the Vampire to the front.

"To help out the LeTorque" I answered.

"How?" asked the Vampire to the right.

"By setting the record straight; Melissa cheated by using me."

"How did she use you?" asked the Vampire to the left.

Okay, this is where it got really scary. I was Forbidden but I existed. I didn't see any way out so I went with my gut and spoke the truth.

"She used my cloaking abilities to hide herself from the LeTorque when she assassinated Peter North."

"So?" said the front Vamp.

"So? That's cheating isn't it?"

"How is it any different from the LeTorque using you to remove Daniel's head from the Ramos family?" asked the left Vamp.

"Because she started it?"

"She used what was available to achieve a higher purpose, did she not?" said the right Vamp.

"What higher purpose?" I asked.

"The advancement of her family, Cloak" the one in front replied and I had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't on our side.

It was strange being grilled by torchlight at the edge of a honky-tonk dance floor by three beautiful Vampires who appeared to enjoy asking their questions by order. One second I was looking at the Matriarch to the front, then to the left, then to the right. It was making me a little dizzy and it didn't help that, except for the two glances by Melissa, none of the members of the two families being judged did anything but stare straight ahead at the front Matriarch.

"Well, I don't see where it really got her anywhere. I mean, it looks to me like the LeTorque evened the score with old Danny-boy's death, didn't they?"

The front Matriarch gave me a look of evil but I'd figured out the routine by then so I ignored her and looked at the left Matriarch instead.

"They have evened the Wolves, true, but they're still down one Vampire and so are one Superior short" she said.

"But that's not fair, Stephanie's in hibernation with Peter's baby" I said.

"No, I'm not" came a voice from the darkness.

The woman walking down the aisle accompanied by the Shadow Wolf was lovely, with auburn hair and the figure only supermodels seem to reacquire after childbirth, which was undoubtedly successful due to the proof she had cradled in the nook of her arm; the newborn Superior.

"Stephanie?" asked the front Vampire in a somewhat amazed voice.

"Yes, Isabella?" the Vampire I'd heard so much about but never met replied. The room began taking on the low hum which accompanies whispering from surprised individuals as the attending Superiors began discussing amongst themselves what was going on.

"Isabella? Isabella Satan?" I inadvertently asked in my shock at what was transpiring.

"Yes, Cloak, do you have a question of me?" the front one literally sneered at me.

"Um... no, Your Worshipness, I'm just a little shocked, I guess."

"Then keep quiet before I have my Wolf take your head" she snapped.

The whispering stopped.

"If that Wolf of yours takes one step toward Johnny, Mistress, you will be unattached before his second" George's voice boomed from the left side of the floor.

Dead silence.

"You would challenge me, you whelping of a cub?" came a voice from behind Isabella Satan as a shadow began to lift itself from the chair it resided in.

"I won't only challenge you, you toothless old cur, I'll put your head on a stake" George replied.

"Is a challenge issued, Wolf of LeTorque?" asked the Matriarch to the left.

"Yes" George responded.

"Is the challenge accepted, Wolf of Satan?" the Matriarch to the right asked.

"Yes" Lucifer replied.

"We rule the Wolf of LeTorque can challenge" Isabella Satan said although she sounded a little less sure of herself.

The whispering returned.

A Wolf, the largest in Third Clan, appeared at the side of his mate, Isabella, who looked upon me with complete and total hatred for all I was; not for what I had become but for what I'd been born to do. George was standing in the center of the dance floor which had taken on the very real semblance of a combat ring and the two families occupying the ring made room for the second most powerful Wolf ever sired to enter.

The whispering ceased.

The Wolf entered the ring and...

"Stop!"

... the voice of Nat Hallowed rang out through the club.

The Alien Detective strolled down the aisle to stand directly beside me as the two largest Wolves of Third Clan stood ten feet apart and appeared eager to see which of them was the better. Isabella's mate, the stories of nightmare, was everything as foretold; large, pale of skin, dark of hair with ebony eyes and a hint of a smile for it looked as though he was enjoying the idea of testing himself against his opponent, an opponent who was slightly smaller but no less imposing. George stood still, his eyes set in stone facing the Wolf who was once his hero but now his foe. His stance was ready yet relaxed and the air of confidence he gave off left the impression he knew exactly where he stood and was perfectly willing to test his foundation.

"You would interfere in Superior business, Monitor?" asked the Queen of Darkness, Isabella Satan.

"I must if the business has gotten out of hand, Mistress."

"State what you mean, Detective."

"The rules of the clan state if an Elder of the clan is challenged then the other two families making up the Three Elders must approve the contest. This has happened. But the rules further state the challenging family may only be accepted if they're in a position to challenge for Eldership. As of yet the LeTorque position has not been settled therefore this challenge may not occur."

"You would step in?" she asked in amazement.

"Yes, Mistress, I'm afraid I would."

The hissing of the crowed immediately reached new levels as I looked at the long-necked Alien in a different light. He wasn't physically imposing, in fact he was downright docile in both demeanor and appearance but when he stated he would indeed put an end to any violations of Clan Law something resonated from him which left no doubt in my mind as to whether he could do it or not. He wasn't stern, he wasn't angry, he was, in reality, sad. The look on his face showed he had no wish to do what he said he'd do but he would do it nonetheless and by the expressions on the enormous beings making up both the combatants and the gallery I could tell they knew exactly what the outcome would be.

"Then we have no choice" the Matriarch on the left said.

"We shall judge the LeTorque within the hour" the Matriarch on the right said.

"The Counsel will adjourn for one hour" Isabella Satan said.

We found ourselves back in the parking lot because no one wanted to sit in the dark inside a country-western nightclub while three Vampires ruled on whether their livelihoods were to be taken away from them. Trudy and Vivian were in conversation with the returning Stephanie, "oohing" and "ahhing" over the newborn baby while George and Philip were discussing battle tactics or something which left the poor detective from Heaven standing alone with me to answer my uneducated questions.

"Okay, what just happened in there?" I asked.

"The battle for Clan Eldership is taking place" he replied.

"Huh? I thought you said this was a judgment on whether the LeTorque would regain control of their business?"

"It is, but like I said, the LeTorque are not just any family. The other Clan Elders know the LeTorque are in a position, and have been for a while, to challenge their Tribal Elder Family for leadership. They came here expecting a showdown and they're more than happy to get one. The fact Peter pulled off his merging of the occupations only added to the tension."

"So this is really a judgment to see if the LeTorque become Tribal Elders?"

"Uh-huh. The other two Tribal Elder Families are waiting to see if the LeTorque make a challenge and, if they do, whether the challenged Elder Family will accept or accede. It appears they will accept."

"Huh?"

"The Tribal Elders of the LeTorque are the Satan, Johnny, and they just indicated they're more than willing to fight."

"So when George threatened...?"

"The Satan accepted."

"Then what's going to happen next?"

"Well, this is where it gets interesting. Remember, the Ramos family is challenging for the right of the LeTorque's occupation and since they hold the business currently they're in a good position to win. Now, they were in a better position, actually a dominant position, when they killed Peter and still had Daniel but it changed when Vivian took his head and it changed even more because of how it was done."

"Huh?"

"She did it using you. In the same tower Melissa used you to remove Peter; Vivian used you to remove Daniel."

"Why does that matter?"

"It matters because of what the Superiors value; strength and cunning. The Wolves are the enforcers so are judged for physical dominance and fighting ability but the Vampires are judged by intelligence and planning. When Vivian evened the score with the Ramos family she did it two ways; first, she removed the Wolf and second, she stalemated any advantage the Ramos had of claiming ingenuity by copying the very way they did their act."

"So, by using me to kill Daniel she tied the game?"

"Uh-huh."

"She used me?"

"They all used you, it's how the game is played."

"I'm not sure I like this game."

"It's a little late to go back now."

"Still..."

"Still what?"

"Never mind. Okay, so, what? They're voting on whether the Ramos or LeTorque win?"

"Yes, and it could all be over if they vote in the Ramos favor and deny the LeTorque a challenge."

"Why?"

"The LeTorque have shown their hand. If they lose the vote the Satan will most definitely move to eliminate any future threat to their leadership."

"What? They'll kill the LeTorque?"

"They'll kill Phillip and George. Without those two the family could not survive."

"Couldn't the girls find new mates?"

"Yes, but they most definitely won't both be Alphas. Remember, what Stephanie accomplished by getting three Alphas to agree not to challenge for leadership was, and still is, unique."

"So if the Ramos win, George and Phillip die."

"Well, you too, Johnny."

"What?"

"You're being protected by the LeTorque, without them you will no longer exist" Nat answered.

"But...?"

"But what?"

"What did I do?"

"You took your first breath."

"So, the LeTorque need to win for me to survive. Do they have a chance?"

"Well, they stood a pretty good chance before that event happened in there."

"The return of Stephanie?"

"Uh-huh. Her return evened the strength of the two families; actually it tilted the strength vastly on their side."

"Really?"

"Haven't you been listening? Phillip and George are Alphas. Now, they already stood a good chance of winning even though they'd be fighting with one fewer Vamp but..."

"Hold on."

"Yes?"

"I thought Vampires didn't fight in these conflicts? I thought they were too important to the survival of the species?"

"No, they don't fight in wars. And it's true they don't fight in these conflicts as well but all you need to do is recall two events you were in to know Vampires most definitely do choose their time and place to fight; it's just they're virtually never able to do so because they're no match for a Wolf."

"'What do they do in these conflicts?"

"They feed their Wolves."'

"They what?"

"These conflicts can last for days and there are no time-outs so usually what happens is the Wolves fight until exhaustion then seek out their mate to get nourishment so they can reenter the fray."

"Nourishment?"

"The Vampires give their blood."

"Oh my... Oh never mind, that's not even gross anymore, please go on."

"Well, the Vampires slice their wrists and their Wolf feeds. Now, when Eldership is at stake there are usually three Wolves fighting and three Vamps feeding so it's usually either a Wolf of exceptional strength or a Vamp with remarkable blood who ends up the winner but there's one thing to consider."

"What?"

"Wolves can obtain nourishment from any of their Vampires and since Wolves are remarkably similar to each other in fighting ability the ones who receive the most blood almost always win. Therefore, if one family is fighting with two Vamps while the other is fighting with three..."

"The one with three can last longer."

"And the one with two loses."

"Hey, what happens if the winning side only has one Wolf left?"

"Then the Vamps without mates will be deemed unattached and the remaining Wolf and Vamp will pick two other mated pairs from the families below them in their tribe. Those families will then pick among those lower until the ladder is complete."

"So an Elder family could possibly consist of only one pair of original members?"

"Yes, and it's actually the norm for these guys."

"Do they pick really strong Wolves and Vamps as replacements?"

"Not usually. They need to be careful because if they pick a Wolf stronger than the one in place, the stronger Wolf will challenge for Alpha and his Vampire will then become Matriarch. There's usually careful consideration placed on which Wolves to ask according to whether the top Wolf feels certain enough he could win a challenge but they don't want to pick too weak a Wolf or they risk a challenge of Eldership from a family below who might perceive the weakness as an opportunity."

"So, what're you saying? When it comes to families, Superiors are highly loyal but subject to change?"

"Uh-huh, when it comes to our friends, they will fight to the death for their family, whichever one they choose it to be."

"These people are weird, Nat."

"Tell me about it, Johnny" said the molecular-holographic Alien from Heaven.

"Okay, so with Stephanie returning the LeTorque are almost guaranteed to win and then they can challenge for Eldership, right?"

"Okay, I guess the first thing you need to know is the vote of the Elders isn't a vote in favor of one family succeeding another."

"No?"

"No, the vote is to allow one family to challenge another for succession."

"Huh?"

"The vote is among the Matriarchs and they value intelligence over brute strength so the vote of the Elders is generally whether the Vampires in the challenging family have been crafty enough to allow their Wolves to challenge for combat."

"Okay, I don't know what that means?

"It means since the Ramos currently hold the tower they are, de facto, the occupying family and thus in ownership of the office. If the Elders agree they are indeed in ownership then the LeTorque will be deemed unattached. Now, if that happens the LeTorque will immediately challenge the Ramos and another vote will be held on whether Vivian's beheading of Daniel was cunning enough to allow for them to do so. If they hold it was, two things will happen; either the Ramos' will accept or they will accede. If they accept then they fight, if they accede then they'll be cast off as unattached and need to reenter another occupation."

"Why would they need to enter another occupation?"

"Because of the stakes of the game. When a family challenges another family they immediately give up their previous occupation and must succeed if they wish to further their move up the hierarchy. If the Ramos' lose they will be unattached."

"Why can't they go back to their previous occupational status?"

"Because then families would be challenging other families all the time and business would suffer."

"Okay, let me get this straight. The LeTorque had the office until the Ramos took it; once that happened the Ramos had the office, right?"

"Yes, it doesn't matter how you got the office, only that you occupy it."

"And by 'office' you mean?"

"In this case the offices of Commercial Property Management Incorporated. Other cases might involve, say, a wheat production farm or a security consultants firm; it doesn't matter what the actual structure is only that it is representative of the family's occupational position."

"So even though the LeTorque were good at what they did and earned their place in the hierarchy the fact the Ramos family came in and took the place over when the LeTorque were preoccupied gives the Ramos control over the place?"

"Not exactly. Any change in occupational authority must be judged by the Clan Elders. In this case, the Ramos are claiming to have cunningly removed the LeTorque and thus should be allowed to keep what they've acquired. The LeTorque are challenging the claim."

"So if the Elders rule for the LeTorque?"

"Then the Ramos are through."

"And if they rule for the Ramos?"

"Then the LeTorque will challenge the Ramos using Daniel's death as their catalyst and the Council will vote on whether the LeTorque have a case for combat."

"And if they rule they do?"

"Then the LeTorque fight the Ramos for their office."

"And if they rule they don't?"

"Then it's been nice knowing you."

Chapter 31

The evening by then was fully night with a blackness startling in its emptiness. Texas has many open spaces surrounding its cities and at night a person can really appreciate what cities have done to the senses of a person who had ancestors living during a time without the modern anthills. There's a perpetual glow emanating from cities at all times, a low hum constantly filling the background for with any place attempting to house, feed and entertain so many guests there will always be an overlap with some guests asleep while others are awake. Cities are constantly alive, constantly churning out production and constantly assailing the senses of the very same citizens they attempt to secure within their boundaries. Communities on the outskirts of those cities enjoy some relief from the sounds, smells and sights of their concrete-surrounded brethren but all they need to do is face in the direction of their neighboring big brother to see the aura of energy emanating from the communal environment to know soon they too will be brought into its endless embrace.

"Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Why is it so dark in there? Don't they believe in modern electricity at these functions?"

"Yes, but they try to keep it minimal in certain cases. You see, they're actually quite the simple folk when you really think about it. Virtually everything they do comes down to a test of their survival skills, and they put lot emphasis on those skills, so when they grasp hold of a concept they feel has the basics they value they're rather reluctant to change with the times."

"What the heck was that, Nat?"

"What?"

"They're reluctant to change with the times? A concept they feel has the basics? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about tradition. What you saw inside was the clan's attempt at recreating the first Confrontation Cave."

"But that's not a cave."

"I know that."

"Why don't they just go to a cave?"

"They couldn't find one suitable enough."

"What? Are you telling me they couldn't find a cave to hold thirty or forty people?"

"No, I'm saying they couldn't find a cave with the technical ability to allow other families to watch the proceedings."

"Oh."

"They had to find a place secret enough for a confrontation to occur which wouldn't draw the eyes of Humans. These confrontations can be very important to the outcome of their society and they have many interested parties involved. Now, they previously held these confrontations at one place and invited all the interested families to attend but with the advancement of civilization came a greater separation of distance between members of each particular clan."

"Huh?"

"As the world grew they began living farther apart."

"Oh, and those families want to watch?"

"Well, remember, when a lower rung family challenges for a higher rung they give up their position in the hierarchy so every family below them is going to be moving up the ladder so to say, but there's a catch, because these fights tend to leave heads on the ground and those heads need to be replaced so..."

"So the lower families are watching to see which of their family members will be asked to replace the dead ones above them?"

"Uh-huh. When a family confrontation occurs deciding occupational status every family below is potentially at risk of losing a mated pair or two."

"My God, these people have a confusing social structure."

"Yep. It's constantly changing according to what one family decides is the best way for them to advance."

"But didn't you say the LeTorque have been the same since they formed their family?"

"Yes."

"How's that possible if they're near the top of the ladder?"

"They've won every challenge they've ever made. In fact, they're quite possibly the only family never to have lost a Wolf in a challenge. If you want I can check it out for you, it'll just take a second for me to..."

"Nat?"

"Yes?"

"That's not important right now. What I'm wondering is why didn't some family higher up who lost a Wolf in a challenge pick one of them as a replacement?"

"If you were an Alpha Wolf in a family above which LeTorque Wolf would you choose to battle? Because, make no mistake, whichever one you pick is going to challenge you for Alpha."

"Oh, and you said Peter was a powerful Wolf?"

"Peter was an Alpha."

"Okay, I get your point. I wouldn't want to fight any of them. So, if you're an Alpha above you don't want to pick an Alpha below unless you're sure you can beat him?"

"Yes. You want to pick one strong enough to be an asset in any future challenges but weak enough to not pose a threat to you as Alpha."

"Man, there's a lot of intrigue in these things."

"Yep, fun isn't it?"

"Well, except for the part about me getting killed if the LeTorque lose."

"Yes, except that part, of course."

"Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Where's Steve?"

"I put him in the electrical closet."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"Why?"

"He could electrocute himself."

"He's a Zombie, he'll just stand there until someone picks him up."

"Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"If I die please remember to get my Zombie."

"I promise, Johnny."

The scene in the parking lot was surreal. There were Wolves and Vampires standing around with nothing to do but wait and see what the Matriarchs were going to rule and after a while a sort of truce developed between them; so much so, they began intermingling with each other. The two remaining Ramos Wolves were talking with Phillip and George while the two Ramos Vamps, one of them being Melissa, were talking with Vivian and Stephanie. I guess the Clan Elder families held themselves above the LeTorque and Ramos but it didn't stop them from intermingling amongst themselves; if one didn't know any better they'd have thought a barbeque or church function was about to begin.

"Johnny?"

"Hi, Trudy."

"How are you holding up?"

"Pretty good. Nat was explaining what was going to happen next."

"Hello, Nat" she said.

"Hello, Mistress" he replied.

"Would you give us a minute, please?" she asked him.

"Certainly, Mistress, I think it's time I looked in our Zombie anyway" he said as he began walking towards the door at the side of the front entrance labeled "Electrical Room".

"Johnny, walk with me" she said, and I did, because I believe I might've mentioned her looks a time or two.

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Usually when people say 'walk with me' they want to talk."

"Yes, true, I do want to talk to you; I'm trying to find the right words."

"Okay."

"What did Nat tell you is going on here?"

"He said you might be challenging the Satan for Clan Elder."'

"Hmm... well, he's right; we will most definitely be doing so. But there's another matter being decided I want to speak to you about."

"What is it?"

"What to do with you."

"Huh?"

"The Clan Elders are scared of you."

"Scared? I thought you people didn't have the ability to be scared?"

"Not physically frightened, intellectually scared."

"Okay, you're losing me, Mistress."

"Sorry. The clan system, the three separate clans each divided into three separate trades was developed because of you, or rather Yang, but since you're essentially the same the point is too."

"Still not getting you, Mistress."

"The clans were designed to prevent what you can accomplish."

"What's that?"

"Total domination by one Wolf over all."'

"Huh?"

"The clans were divided into three so no Wolf could reign over all. They were further divided into trades so no Wolf could dominate even one sole clan but, with you, the separation doesn't divide so wide."

"Why?"

"Because you allow the Wolf to be what he wishes to be."

"What's that?"

"Alpha, Johnny, Alpha of all."

"Okay, look, I get where you're going with this but I don't see how it's even possible anymore."

"What's not possible?"

"That I give one Wolf the power to be king."

"But you do."

"How? There's thousands of Wolves and Vampires. How could one Wolf hope to prevail even if I could hide his scent?"

"Because of what it would do to our view of the world."

"What would it do?"

"It would make us kill Humanity."

"You'd do what?"

"We would no longer be able to tell if the species approaching us were Human or Superior. We would then rely on our basic instinct of survival and remove the threat before it removed us; in essence, your existence means we would declare war on Humanity."

"Hold on. Why would you do that? I mean. Okay, let's say for the sake of argument you're right and I did meet someone like Yin; why couldn't you just see us coming?"

"Because of modern medicine."

"Modern medicine?"

"Yes, modern medicine gives us the ability to change our physical appearance for short periods of time, at least until our bodies overcome the transformation surgery can provide."

"Oh."

"An Alpha Wolf with you would be able to walk up to any Superior and attack before they had any idea of the danger. An Alpha Wolf with you would be able to detect any Superior without himself being detected. An Alpha Wolf with you is the exact same species a Werewolf is to a Human."

"What's that?"

"Certain death."

"Oh my God! I'm dead aren't I? Those Elders are going to come back in and rule I'm to be exterminated, aren't they?"

"They could but I doubt they will."

"Why?"

"Because you're a Superior and if they sentence you to death it must be through combat and since you are part of our family it would involve us; so, in essence, one of the Elder families would be taking the chance they could beat us. Now, the Satan think they can but the others know they cannot for even though Phillip and George are young by Wolf standards they may very well be the most dominant Wolves save Yin and the Mate of Satan."

"So the Satan will be picked to take us on?"

"The Satan are going to fight us either way and I think they'd like to do it without your particular abilities involved."

"Huh?"

"Johnny, if you're sentenced to die you have the right to fight back. Now, with your abilities George and Phillip will be an almost impossible pair to beat because you get to choose the venue for the fight."

"Huh?"

"Modern or traditional. Old or new. Electric lights or torchlight. If they choose death for you, we will choose to fight traditional style with torchlight alone. The Mate of Satan barely survived against Yin; do you really think he would like to test himself against Phillip and George the same way?"

"But this isn't the same. They already know about Yang dimming his torch since Lucifer was the one in the fight after all?"

"Of course they do but, remember, Yin was fighting alone; Phillip and George will be fighting as a pair. If the Satan are so foolish as to choose death for you then they will fight by torch, Phillip or George will distract one of their Wolves and the other will attack from behind. It will be a slaughter."

"But it'll be three Wolves against two?"

"No, it'll be one Alpha and a pair of lesser Wolves against two Alphas; I like our chances every time there."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"So, okay, then I'm not going to be put to death?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny."

"That pep talk started off pretty poorly but I liked the ending."

"You're welcome."

"Trudy?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"You never said what happened to Yin and Merri Li."

"Oh, where was I when I left off?"

"Yin turned on Yang, Yang got away and Merri Li was their half-sister."

"Now I remember. Okay, when Yin ruled against Yang he removed any justifiable reason for the Superior's revolution and he and Merri Li were reinstated as Alpha and Matriarch of both clans but Merri Li was furious with him over his judgment in the matter for she felt it was a betrayal of blood. She refused to talk to him and actively sought to have him removed as Alpha."

"Good for her. How'd she do it?"

"She tried to get another Wolf to mate with her and then have him challenge Yin for Alpha?"

"What? Are you serious?"

"Uh-huh. Remember, she'd refused to sire an heir with him so while they were technically mated in the eyes of Clan Law they were not in the normal sense of the word. In fact they'd never shared a kiss because of her confusion over him."

"Huh?"

"Remember when I told you the first time they met it was love at first sight?"

"Yeah, now it sounds creepy."

"Well, it was love in a way. Both could sense something of themselves in the other. Now normally Human's would view this as love but since we Superiors cannot feel love for anything other than ourselves what they were experiencing was a reaction to their own blood, their own specific DNA, handed down to them by the same Wolf; Lucifer Satan."

"So it was brotherly and sisterly love."

"In a Superior kind of way, yes."

"What happened then?"

"Well, Merri Li could not find a willing Wolf..."

"Because they were all scared Yin might rip their heads off?"

"... because they knew Yin would rip their heads off. They weren't scared; they merely weighed their chances of surviving the conflict and none were ready to face the great unknown at the time."

"Did Yin find out Merri Li was trying to get him... what's the word...?"

"Overthrown?"

"I was thinking 'divorced'."

"We don't divorce, we are mated for life and only the death of one can separate the other."

"It saves on lawyers' fees, I guess."

"Yes it does and, yes, Yin did find out what Merri Li was up to."

"What did he do?"

"He tried the same thing as Merri Li with the actual process being different but the results remaining the same."

"Really? Always cryptic, Trudy?"

"It's how we talk, I'm a Vampire after all."

"Okay, so what happened?"

"Yin sired Superiors, the Vampires who birthed those children challenged for Yin's hand, he allowed the challenges to occur and Merri Li removed their heads."

"Merri Li chopped their heads off?"

"No, Merri Li tore their heads off."

"My God!"

"Yes, well, she was a bit upset with the challenges and all."

"What happened to the children?"

"They were raised by First Clan."

"Are any of them still around?"

"I suppose."

"I bet that's weird."

"What?"

"Being raised in a Clan ruled by the person who ripped your mom's head off."

"They were raised during the time of the Division so they didn't deal with Merri Li."

"Huh?"

"It was during this time the Division occurred. You see, Merri Li could not forgive Yin and he could not separate from her because to do so would remove him from Alpha of the Clans..."

"Hold on. I thought the Wolves of a family nominated the top dog and his mate became Matriarch?"

"That's true."

"Then how was Merri Li the Matriarch if it was just her and Yin?"

"Because it's not set in stone a family be made up of three mated pairs, it evolved because we Superiors cannot seem to do otherwise. Every time a group of mated gets together and tries to form a family greater than three pair the Wolves fight for the Alpha while the Vampires conspire in their Wolf's favor and the end process is always the same."

"What's that?"

"At the end of the day only three pair remain. Each pair makes allegiances with the other two in secret and a stalemate occurs because no pair can fully trust another."

"So how did Merri Li and Yin get to rule."

"Because Yin kept winning all challenges."

"How? You said he could beat two Wolves but three was problematic. I assume they were sending up a full complement of Wolves?"

"You assume correct, they were sending up three Wolves to do battle but, remember, a family above may pick mated pairs from those below."

"So?"

"So every time Yin was challenged he would pick two mated Wolves to join his family, fight the challenge and remain Alpha."

"What do you mean by 'every time'?"

"'Well, after the challenge Yin would behead the Wolves he chose to join his family."

"What?"

"After the challenge Yin would..."

"I'm sorry, I got that part. I guess what I really meant to ask was 'Why?'."

"Because Yin didn't like the idea of ruling by committee."

"So he just kept on killing the other Wolves?"

"Uh-huh, until three of the stronger families came up with the idea of the Division."

"Why'd they do that?"

"Because they were losing Wolves at an alarming rate. You see, Wolves like combat, they are born for it and Yin was no different. He would actually goad lower families into it by doing insane things like caressing another Wolf's mate or spitting in a Wolf's eye, stuff like that. Well, a Wolf is a Wolf so they would challenge, Yin would accept, pick another pair of stand-in Wolves and the end would remain the same; five less Wolves in the Clan."

"Why didn't the Wolves he picked to be in his family side with the other three Wolves during the challenge and kill Yin."

"Because they would lose honor."

"Honor? But Yin was killing members of his own family!"

"Wolves may fight within their own family, they just never choose to do so since the death of one Wolf would immediately provoke a challenge from another family with three. Essentially once a family is intact it must remain so unless it wishes to move down the hierarchy, not up."

"Okay let me see if I've got this right. Wolves fight for Vampires, then they fight to see who's in charge, then they fight to move up the socio-economic ladder, while the whole time Vampires are planning and scheming when and who their Wolves should be fighting;, is that about right?"

"It is now."

"It wasn't then?"

"No, back then there was no division of economy, just families of Wolves and Vampires aligning with some and fighting others to see who would lead the pack. Yin won, so he led. The problem was, under the system they had he was fighting Wolves who had no chance of beating him which took some of the pleasure out of the battle so he would challenge even more Wolves and behead them also."

"He seems selfish."

"Oh, we're all selfish. Usually our selfishness is balanced out by another's but in Yin's case his selfishness was insatiable and unbeatable so the three families came up with the idea of providing Yin what he needed without destroying the very society he was using to fulfill his desires."

"Huh?"

"Yin needed Wolves to fight but he needed the right Wolves, the ones who could challenge him, the ones who could possibly win. The three families came up with the idea of the three Tribes, strongest at the top, weakest at the bottom so Yin could challenge any of the Elder Wolves and meet their family in combat."

"And he picked his stand-in Wolves from...?"

"The bottom. The Wolves who were chosen to act as Yin's Wolf-mates were Beta's; unattached Wolves who hadn't yet earned their place in a family."

"And that worked?"

"Yes, and it eventually led to the Tribes being defined by their participation in the necessary things of life, their chosen occupations as it were, which evolved into what we have today."

"Okay, but...

A Wolf's howl broke the silence of the night.

"Time to go, Johnny."

"Already?"

"Yes. They've decided."

Chapter 32

The walk back inside was done in almost complete silence. Not a Wolf, Vampire or Alien said anything as they moved to hear the verdict of three Matriarchs ruling if the strange code of Superiors was followed by Vivian when she took the head of Daniel in retaliation for the assassination of Peter North. Nat had decided his presence was warranted considering the unique circumstances and since the Heavens can do as they please the Superiors had no choice but to allow him in. The nightclub remained the same, with no lighting except for the five torches burning but this time I looked around and saw what Nat hinted might be present; a camera set in the ceiling aimed at the dance floor so the lower families could tune in and watch the proceedings. I said 'almost' complete silence because as I was about to stand at my appointed location I heard one of the Wolves from an Elder Clan whisper "Can you smell anything?" to another Wolf who responded "Nothing" and a strange look came over their faces as they glanced at me. It wasn't one of anger, loathing, confusion or any of the other expressions I'd become accustomed to; no, it was one of interest. They appeared to be interested in me and I've got to admit it made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. There was no bailiff telling everyone to sit down and shut up. There was no raised bench from which the Matriarchs could sit on high authority to issue their verdicts upon those lower. In fact, there was no formality whatsoever, only a procession of Superiors walking in silence and either sitting in chairs or standing on the dance floor until the leading ladies of terror finally entered, walked to their respective places at the leaning-rail, looked out and said...

"We rule the Ramos own the Occupation" the Queen of Darkness said and an immediate hum began.

"The LeTorque challenge the Ramos for Occupancy" declared George immediately.

"We rule the LeTorque have the right to challenge" the Matriarch of the left said.

"The Ramos accept the challenge" a huge Wolf in their family declared.

"The challenge has been accepted, are the Ramos whole?" the Matriarch of the right said.

"We are not. We ask the council to accept Javier Rosales as Wolf of Ramos, mate to Melissa."

I turned around to look at what the rest of the gallery were viewing; namely, an enormous Werewolf led down the walkway by the Shadow-Wolf, stopping to stand directly next to me and Nat, reminding me exactly how much size I lacked in comparison.

"The Council accepts Javier Rosales as Wolf of Ramos..." Isabella Satan began from the front.

There was more activity from the Superiors in the background and I was wondering what was going to happen next when...

"... are the LeTorque whole?" Isabella Satan finished.

... I realized it was time for me to be judged.

"We are not. We ask the council to accept Johnny Johnson as Wolf of LeTorque, mate to Stephanie" said George in a strong and challenging way.

"What?" I said.

"Quiet!" said Nat.

"Did you say something, Cloak?" said Isabella Satan.

Have you ever said something you didn't mean to say?

NO.

I mean, actually say something you had no notion of uttering but for some reason your tongue decided it could not abide by your decision and decided enough was enough, it was time for some verbal sparring?

MY TONGUE DOES AS I TELL IT TO DO.

Well, that's what happened to me. I had no intention of asking "What?" but before my conscious mind could even process the information my subconscious interrupted and asked the question.

"Um... err... can I have a second, your Mistressness?"

"No."

"What? What do you mean 'No'?" I said.

"I believe 'No' is an easily understood answer, Cloak, even for someone of your unique stature" she replied.

"My unique stature? Why look here you little...!"

"Mistress?" interrupted Nat.

"Yes, Detective?" she replied while glaring at me with obvious hatred in her eyes.

"If I may be of help. I believe Mister Johnson is not properly acquainted with Superior decisions and I would like to take a moment and inform him of the proper etiquette to follow while in Council."

"We shall allow it, Detective, but any more outbursts from the Forbidden will be looked upon with grave seriousness."

"Thank you, Mistress" he said and led me up the aisle so he could speak with me alone.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Nat?"

"You know what's going on, right?"

"I believe I'm being married off to Stephanie."

"Correct."

"I don't want to be married off to Stephanie."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Well, for starters, they never asked me and, secondly, I don't know if I like the woman. Maybe she hates football? Maybe she likes to go to the opera? Did you ever think of that, Nat? What If she's one of those women who like the theater but doesn't want to go alone so she drags her poor husband along like some accessory or something? What if she's...?"

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Nat?"

"You have no choice."

"Huh?"

"You have no choice."

"What do you mean I have no choice?"

"If you choose not to be mated with Stephanie then you will die."

"Die? The LeTorque will kill me if I don't accept?"

"No, but they will no longer be able to claim you as one of their own and thus no longer able to safeguard your life."

"They won't?"

"Nope. If you decide you will not be mated to Stephanie then the LeTorque will disown you and then..."

"And then...?"

"The Wolves in this place will rip you to shreds, Johnny."

"Oh."

I was contemplating the situation as we returned to our reserved standing places at the edge of the giant dance floor and didn't like what I was coming up with. I've always been a little shaky when it comes to the issue of commitment, any commitment, whether in my personal or business life. I don't know what my problem is but I think it stems from the fact life keeps throwing curveballs at us all the time so we really don't know what's around the bend and maybe the grass is a little greener on the other side.

OR YOU'RE A COWARD.

That too.

"Have you explained the situation to the Cloak, Detective?" asked the Matriarch to the left.

"Yes, Mistress" he replied.

"And is the Cloak a willing participant?" asked the Matriarch to the right.

"Yes, Mistress" he replied.

"Then the Council accepts Johnny Johnson as Wolf of LeTorque" Isabella Satan, Matriarch to the front said.

I didn't know what to do so I stood there looking perplexed as the gallery eyeballed me with Wolfish leers and Vampire glares.

"Go join your family, Johnny" Nat said.

"Oh... oh right" I said and went to stand with them on the combat arena which masqueraded as a dance floor whenever challenging families weren't using it to behead Werewolves.

"As the challenged family the Ramos will set the stage" said Isabella Satan.

"We choose modern" said the largest of their Werewolves and I was wondering what it meant when a switch was flipped and lights illuminated the parquet flooring.

"What'd they do that for?" I whispered to Stephanie.

"So your cloaking abilities won't come into play, Dearest" she replied.

Okay, the 'Dearest' thing was a little forward if you ask me. I mean, we'd just gotten hitched after all. Heck, I'd only met the woman an hour before so you can forgive me if I was a little taken aback by her use of the word.

"Dearest?" I asked.

"It's a term of endearment, Johnny" she replied.

"I know it is, Stephanie, it's just..."

"It's just what?"

"It's just... well... a little early to be using pet names and such."

"Why?"

"Why? Because we just met. I don't know the first thing about you. For all I know you could be a murdering Sorceress who likes to kill her husbands..."

"I'm not a Sorceress."

"I know, it's just..."

"I'm a Vampire."

"Uh-huh, and I'm sure you're a darn good one too. It's just giving someone a pet name usually takes..."

And then I was talking to an empty suit. Seriously, an empty suit, which turned around, walked off the dance floor and fell to the ground. I turned around to get the reaction from my new family members but couldn't because two more empty suits were following the one Stephanie had been wearing and the two remaining Werewolves were staring intently at the opposing three Werewolves who were also standing around without their Vampires because they'd also done their invisible striptease act on their side of the dance floor.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"The battle has begun, Johnny" said Trudy's voice from behind the leaning rail.

"What...? Oh, crap!"

The movement was instantaneous and impossible for me to follow. I stood there because I could think of nothing else to do and nowhere else to it. I thought if I moved I might inadvertently trip into Phillip or George who were doing the heavy lifting of three while being confined to the limitations which comes with a third of their Wolf-pack being about as helpful as dust at an asthma convention. The feeling of action was all around me and I could almost make out one of the parties involved when...

"One's down" said Trudy's voice.

"Which one?" asked Vivian's voice.

"Javier" answered Stephanie's voice.

... a head came to rest at my feet. It was a large head and its eyes were still open so I don't know if he saw his death or not but I hope he didn't because, right then, I heard a wrenching sound and...

"Second one's down" said Trudy's voice.

"Which one?" asked Vivian's voice.

"'I don't know? They look so alike but I would guess it to be Steven" said Stephanie's voice.

Now, if you're wondering what a Werewolf battle-royal looks and sounds like you'll be disappointed in my description because I don't have one. That's right, other than the two heads of the Ramos Wolves I neither saw nor heard a thing. They were going too fast for my eyes to capture the images and apparently when Wolves fight they like to do so in complete silence because neither the participants nor the gallery members were making any noise whatsoever. Now, it might've been the fact I was trying so hard to concentrate and pinpoint a location of where the brawl was happening that I heard, after Stephanie's assessment of who the head belonged to...

"Steve..."

... the voice of my Zombie echo silently through the room from the back wall of the nightclub. It turned out the electrical room he was standing in had thin enough walls for him to hear through and when Stephanie said 'Steven' he mistook it for Steve and did what all good Zombies do; he repeated it back.

The activity which had been occurring at such alarming speed suddenly ceased and standing on the opposite side of the dance floor was the remaining Wolf of Ramos, silently gulping air and staring intently at the enormous visages of Phillip and George as they too stood stock still waiting for the inevitable, which happened before I believed the last Ramos Wolf wished for as I was watching him I saw determination settle in his eyes and a resolution to go out like a Wolf should when... the blurs of George and Phillip rushed by which left his torso standing for a moment wondering where its head went.

"And that's that" said Trudy's voice as her clothes were lifted by unseen hands and placed back on her body before she became visible again. The other two Vampires of LeTorque followed suit and soon it was as if nothing had occurred except for the fact there were two Werewolf heads lying at my feet and a third across the glossy wooden floor of the country-western nightclub. The Vampires of the Ramos family had reappeared and looked as though they mourned their loss of Wolf-mates about as much as a teenager misses acne. A hum grew in the crowed as those gathered discussed what had occurred.

"The LeTorque ask the Council to judge on their occupation" George said to the Matriarchs.

"We rule the LeTorque have the occupation" the Matriarch to the left said.

"Uh, Phillip?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"What's going on?"

"We've gotten our occupation back."

"Oh. That was it?"

"Uh-huh. We just had to kill the Ramos Wolves and we got our tower back."

"What happens now?"

"Well, I guess everything goes to back to the way it was before..."

He was going to say it would go back to the way things were before Melissa took the head of Peter North when something strange occurred; Stephanie walked over to where her infant child lay in its carrying case, lifted the child up and walked to the middle of the dance floor. The other Superiors in attendance must've also noticed the strange behavior because the room once again fell silent.

"Yes, Stephanie of LeTorque, do you wish to address the Council?" the Matriarch to the right said.

"Yes. I, Stephanie LeTorque, challenge Isabella Satan for her mate."

The room erupted in sound as the Superiors heard what Stephanie said.

"What right do you have to challenge me, Stephanie?"

"Why, Isabella, can you not look upon a child sired by your Wolf and not know it for what it is?"

The child in question was but an infant, not old enough for me to see whether it was Wolf or Vamp, but it had a good set of lungs because at the same time Stephanie questioned Isabella the child decided to wail, and when the child wailed the Wolf rose, standing his full height once again to look upon a member of LeTorque who would challenge Satan supremacy. Another strange thing occurred because for the first time I could actually feel the interest in every single Superior at the sound of the child; as though all of them were hearing something new for the first time, something different, something Superior.

"Is the child yours, Lucifer Satan?" asked the Matriarch to the left.

"The child is mine" he responded.

And the place went berserk. One second everyone was calm and collected, the next, Wolf and Vampire were rushing the edge of the dance floor as Isabella Satan literally flew over the railing and tried to slit Stephanie's throat with a dagger she produced from thin air. Okay, obviously she didn't actually produce it out of thin air but things were moving so fast it appeared she did. The only problem she had with her plan was in its execution for where Stephanie stood one second, nothing remained the next.

"Johnny, we'd better get off this dance floor" said Phillip as he lifted me off my feet and carried me like a football in the crook of his right arm.

"What's going on?" I asked once we were off the dance floor of death.

"Stephanie's child, the one we thought was Peter's, isn't Peter's."

"Whose is it?"

"Lucifer's" Phillip responded.

"Lucifer's?"

"Uh-huh."

"So what's happening now?"

"Stephanie has challenged Isabella for the right to have Lucifer as her mate."

"She can do that?"

"Yep. She's doing it right now."

I looked out to the dance floor but the only thing I saw were two sets of women's garments laying on the ground.

"She's doing what exactly?"

"She's fighting Isabella."

"Really?"

"Really."

"How do you know?"

"I can scent and hear them, can't you?"

I could get a good location as to their general location because, he was right, I could get a scent of where they were on the dance floor but I could hear absolutely nothing; just the silent murmuring of a crowd of onlookers watching an invisible death match between two lovely ladies of the night. I tried really hard to hear what the others were obviously capable of hearing but gave up after a couple of seconds because I was giving myself a headache. It was then I looked around and noticed something quite unusual; Lucifer Satan cradling the infant in his arms and looking on with obvious interest. I had no idea when or how he'd retrieved the child because the last time I'd seen it the infant was wailing in the arms of its mother, a mother who was subsequently attacked by his mate and was now dueling to the death for the right to rule by his side.

DID HE NOTICE YOU?

Who, the child?

NO, LUCIFER.

Oh, yeah, he noticed me all right.

WHAT WAS HIS DEMEANOR?

Indifferent.

"Phillip?" I asked.

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Who's winning?"

"I have no idea."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then why are you watching so intently."

"Because I'm waiting to see a head come off."

"Oh."

So there we stood, watching air and waiting for a head to materialize which would be unfortunate for the one it belonged to for it would mean the end of their ambitions.

"Vivian?"

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"Did you see this one coming?"

"What, that Stephanie would be having Lucifer's child instead of Peter's?"

"Yes."

"No, I didn't see this one coming, Sweetie, but it doesn't surprise me."

"Why not?"

"Because Stephanie has always been ambitious."

"Ambitious? I think having another mate's child and then killing her is a little more than ambitious."

"Oh, what would you call it?"

"Cheating, adultery, murder; stuff like that."

"We don't believe in murder."

"Okay, cheating, adultery and grossly opportunistic; how's that?"

"That's better. Look, Sweetie, I don't condone what she did but I can definitely understand why she did it."

"Why'd she do it?"

"For the Matriarchy."

"Really? It's so important?"

"It's all important."

"Huh. Well it doesn't seem like such a good deal if all a Wolf has to do is impregnate another Vampire and then you've got to fight to keep the lecherous traitor."

"Yeah, it doesn't look so good from that point of view but it does have its perks."

"Like what?"

"Like the most gorgeous mansion you've ever seen and a fleet of cars with chauffeurs... Oh!... and a walk-in closet so big you could actually furnish it and a shoe rack with over a hundred spaces. Oh, Sweetie, I hope she wins!"

"Who? Stephanie?"

"Of course, Stephanie. What, did you think I would root for Isabella?"

"Well, now don't get me wrong, I'm not one to judge but..."

"But what?"

"Well, don't you find it a little convenient Peter would be killed while Stephanie was presumably in hibernation with his child?"

"Well, yeah, a little bit..."

"And I'm assuming Peter wouldn't look all too fondly on his mate giving birth to another Wolf's cub."

"No, he probably wouldn't."

"What would he have done if he were still alive when Stephanie produced the child?"

"He would've been honor bound to kill the offending Wolf."

"And could he have done it? Could he have beaten Lucifer in combat?"

"Possibly, he was a powerful Wolf after all."

"Then why do you think Stephanie would've allowed Lucifer to impregnate her?"

It was a little difficult for her to keep up the conversation because she was constantly watching the dance floor where the invisible vampires were engaged in combat. I know you might be thinking since they weren't actually invisible, just blended into their environment, it would be possible to get a glimpse of their outlines but you'd be wrong. The nightclub lights were on only above the dance floor, the rest of the place was still in darkness and the ceiling space was beginning to fill with the smoke still coming from the four remaining lit torches burning, the fifth one having been extinguished with the death of the Ramos Wolves. The overall effect was one of gloom surrounding a square of brown polished wood which made it impossible to detect where the Vampires were at any time. My being there also added to the confusion because, except for those with my blood bond, no one had any idea where the combatants were.

"I think she might've been hedging her bet, Sweetie" said the lovely blonde Vampire.

"Hedging her bet?"

"Uh-huh."

"How?"

"Well, if she was really interested in the Matriarchy she could go about it two ways. First, she could challenge the Tribal Elder family for their seat, which in our case is the Satan, or she could entice the Alpha Wolf into giving her a cub and challenge the Matriarch herself for the seat, which is what is going on right now."

"So you think she enticed Lucifer?"

"Oh, I guarantee it."

"Why?"

"Because Lucifer's a Wolf but, more importantly he's an Alpha; maybe the most powerful one to ever exist save his prodigy, Yin."

"Why would that lead Stephanie to entice him?"

"Because he's a Wolf, haven't you been listening? Wolves like Lucifer are the easiest to entice because they can't see any consequences of their actions. They think they're unbound by any moral code because of the belief in their superiority over all. It would have taken Stephanie only a minute to entice Lucifer."

"But she had to know Peter would find out."

"Of course, but it would only enhance her chances at claiming the Matriarchy."

"How?"

"Because of the way our system works, Sweetie. You see, once she had the child she could claim the right to challenge for Lucifer and he could choose to go two ways with it; either admit or deny the child. If he admitted, well, that's what he did so the consequences are playing out before us..."

"And if he denied?"

"Peter would've been honor bound to challenge Lucifer to combat which would then draw in both families and Stephanie would still have the chance at her Matriarchy."

"Okay, let's assume Peter was alive and your family..."

"Our family, Johnny, you are one of us."

"Okay, let's assume our family won. Why would Peter choose to stay mated to a cheat of a Vampire?"

"Because he would be Alpha of Shelter Tribe."

"And that would be okay with him?"

"Well, he would've probably been a little upset Lucifer's child would still be alive but, unless it turned out to be a Vampire, he would've gotten rid of it."

"What?"

"He would've got rid of the child if it were a Wolf."

"That's barbaric!"

"That's the way of the Wolf."

"Okay, but Peter's not alive."

"No, he's not."

"So, then if Lucifer were to have denied the child she wouldn't have gotten the families to fight because Peter was dead, right?"

"Well, yes and no. If she had challenged and Lucifer rebuked her without her being mated it would definitely have ended her plans but..."

"But what?"

"But you're her mated now, Johnny, you would've been honor bound to challenge Lucifer."

"Excuse me?"

"You are her..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean I couldn't hear you; I meant I couldn't believe what you said."

"What's that, Sweetie?"

"That I would challenge Lucifer."

"But you would be honor bound to do so."

"Vivian, I can tell you right now, I would be anything but..."

I was interrupted by a hush which fell over the crowed. It's weird how a change of background noise in either direction can signify something important is about to occur and, in this case, it was the head of Isabella Satan coming to rest on the floor of the nightclub with an expression of complete surprise on her face.

"Well, this just got interesting" said Vivian.

I was going to ask what her definition of interesting was when...

"I, Stephanie LeTorque claim the Wolf, Lucifer as my mate."

"Does Lucifer, Wolf of Satan, accept?" asked the Matriarch to the right.

"I do" replied the Wolf.

"The Council recognizes Stephanie LeTorque as mate to Lucifer, Matriarch to Shelter Tribe of Third Clan" the Matriarch to the left said.

"The LeTorque challenge" George said immediately afterward.

"What?" I said.

"I told you, Johnny, you're honor bound to fight for your mate and, since we're family, we're bound also."

The gallery was in complete disarray at what had happened. Werewolves were moving their seats closer to the dance floor and Vampires were whispering among themselves at the numerous changes in circumstances which had befallen the Judgment.

"The Council rule the LeTorque have the right to challenge" said the Matriarch to the left.

"The Satan accept" said the voice of Lucifer without delay and his massive presence arose along with two other Wolves who towered over all save two.

If you're wondering why he chose to keep calling himself Satan it turns out if a Vampire has challenged another and both are mated then until the final outcome between the two opposing families are settled the previous titles remain in place. So we, the LeTorque, who had no one actually named for it were fighting the Satan, who were in a similar situation.

"As the challenged family the Satan will choose the setting" the Matriarch to the right said.

"We choose modern" replied the enormous creature.

"Johnny, get behind me" said George.

"Already there, big guy" I replied as I watched the five Vampires disappear leaving only clothing on the ground to mark their passage.

The tension in the room, if you can believe it, actually went up a notch or two as the three Wolves of Satan stood silently across the floor from the two Wolves of LeTorque and me, cowering behind the legs of George in an attempt to not only hide myself from the intimidating creatures on the other side of the makeshift ring but, I believe, to shield my own eyes from viewing them because at that point in my life I'd never been so sure of one thing; I was going to die.

The movement, as before, began without me actually witnessing it. I don't know if it was because of the speed of the combatants or because I had my eyes closed but when I opened them I could sense the general location of the Wolves, I just couldn't see them. Also, those general locations were really only guideposts because they moved so fast for an instant they would be in one place and the next, across the dance floor. It was a surreal experience because, to tell the truth, no one was in the slightest bit interested in me. Since the lights were on and the actual combat area clean of obstacles except for a few heads whatever advantages I brought to the table were nullified. I was, in essence, a bystander at my own execution. As time went on I began to get glimpses of the Wolves because even they slow down a bit when exhaustion sets in so every once in a while I could see why I'd been ignored. It was obvious George and Phillip together could've taken out the two Wolves accompanying Lucifer but with his involvement it became more of a chess match with Phillip or George trying to get to one of the two weaker opponents to even the odds, as it were, while Lucifer was busy either protecting one or attacking with another. I appeared to be safe for the time being because if any of the Satan were to make a move toward me they would be exposing themselves to Phillip or George and their lives would be forfeit.

"Trudy?" I asked the air behind me.

"Yes, Johnny?" she responded.

"Is this one of those exhaustion matches where whoever has the most Vampires wins?"

"It might be, I don't think anyone can get an advantage."

"They have three Vampires, Trudy."

"Yes, I know, Johnny."

"We only have two."

"I know."

"We need to change the odds."

"We cannot. Vampires are forbidden to enter the Confrontation between Wolves save to give nourishment."

"I wasn't thinking about Vampires."

"What were you thinking of?"

"Vivian?" I asked the air beside Trudy where the scent of platinum held sway.

"Yes, Sweetie?" she responded.

"How are your lungs?"

"My lungs?"

"Yes, can you yell loudly?"

"Yes... but why?"

"Because we have a secret weapon."

"What's that?"

"Yell, 'Attack', Vivian."

"Attack?"

"Yes, yell it and yell it loud."

"Okay... 'Attack!'"

Chapter 33

The lights flickered briefly, shut off, flickered again and then completely went dark as the Zombie in the closet attacked the only thing he could in order to follow the instructions of his master; the electrical switches in the room he was confined in.

The fight changed as the two weaker Wolves of Satan realized what was going on for Phillip and George immediately went to the shadows of the dance floor when the lights went out. You could see them sometimes, just barely, and I could tell the two weaker Wolves of Satan would sometimes lose track of them altogether but Lucifer never did. He was wary but vigilant as he began backing toward me, always keeping his eyes upon the two Wolves who suddenly beheaded one... then another... of the weaker Wolves of Satan. It was now only Lucifer versus the two Alphas of LeTorque and I could sense by the way his body reacted to the sudden change in circumstance he was going to do the one thing which might possibly give him some satisfaction so I reached behind me, grasped the only thing I could find to ward off what I knew was going to happen, and when Lucifer made his last desperate move, a move so fast I could not see it coming, he ran face-first into the torch of LeTorque held out in front of me like a long-sword of past ages. The shock wasn't nearly enough to harm the second greatest Wolf ever sired but it did slow him down for a second and, in the world of Superiors, a second is all it takes for as I was staring in fright at the giant maw opened in preparation of tearing my throat out the Wolf's head was ripped away by the third and fourth greatest Wolves ever.

"The LeTorque challenge for Eldership of Shelter" said George.

"The Council rules the LeTorque are Elders of Shelter Tribe. Whom is the Matriarch, LeTorque?"

Okay, the question obviously wasn't directed at me because there was no way anyone would believe I was the Alpha of the family and we were all looking at George and Phillip to see which one of them was going to claim the Alpha which, of course, was going to be challenged by the other and everyone was going to get even more of a show than they'd believed possible...

IS THAT WHY THEY NEVER CHALLENGED BEFORE?

Yep, the deal was to get to Clan Elder. They knew once there if they obtained it then all bets were off and the Wolves of LeTorque would indeed find out who was the true Alpha.

WHO DO YOU THINK WOULD WIN?

You know, I don't have a clue and I'll probably never find out because right then...

"I choose Johnny Johnson, Wolf of LeTorque, as my mate" came the voice of Melissa from the bleacher seats.

A general hum of activity once again encompassed the nightclub as Werewolf and Vampire alike were wondering just how many things could possibly happen in the space of about two hours in a country-western nightclub on the outskirts of Austin.

"The Wolf in question is already mated to Stephanie LeTorque" replied the Matriarch to the right.

"No, he's not" replied Melissa as she made her way onto the dance floor.

"State your facts, Unattached one" said the Matriarch to the left.

"He never willingly agreed" Melissa responded.

"Yes he did, the Council asked and he agreed he was willingly my mate" interrupted Stephanie.

"He did not agree, the Monitor agreed for him."

The hum from the crowd gathered increased as they began asking whether I'd actually agreed to be the mate of Stephanie. The answer was easy to obtain.

"Detective Hallowed?" asked the Matriarch to the right.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Did the Wolf, Johnson, willingly agree to be mated to the Vampire, Stephanie?"

"No, Mistress, he did not. I answered for him."

The hum grew louder and reached the level of audible amazement at their good luck of fortune to have been present at such a gossip-making occasion.

"Johnny Johnson, Wolf of LeTorque, whom do you choose as mate?" asked the Matriarch to the left.

I looked at both the lovely creatures of boyhood fantasy and I've got to tell you a guy couldn't go wrong picking either. The fact the guy was me only made the decision more implausible.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Trudy?"

"Do what you were bred to do."

"I choose Melissa as my mate."

"What?" Stephanie replied.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie, but I've got to do what's best for the family" I said.

"But I will give us everything" she said.

"No, I'm afraid you won't" said Melissa.

"Quiet! You don't even know what I'm talking about" Stephanie hissed.

"Oh, you mean this?" Melissa responded while holding up what everyone knew was coming but were afraid to face.

"Where did you get that?" Stephanie asked in a somewhat confused manner.

"From the safe of a great Wolf" Melissa responded as she made her way to stand next to me and the rest of my family.

"Who is the Matriarch of LeTorque?" the Matriarch to the right asked.

And this is where the rubber hit the road so to speak. They didn't have to do it, they held all the cards after all, but we'd agreed at the beginning and they really do have a strange sense of honor so...

"Johnny?"

"Yes, George?"

"I cede Alpha to you."

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Phillip?"

"I cede Alpha to you."

"The Matriarch of LeTorque is Melissa" said the Matriarch to the left.

... and then what had to happen, did.

"The LeTorque challenge for Eldership of Third Clan" said Melissa.

"The Council will rule" said the Matriarchs together and the place erupted in howls of delight.

We walked back outside to await the ruling and I retrieved my Zombie out of the electrical closet where he was still going to town on the circuit breakers and wiring and stuff. I believe I almost had the shortest reign as Alpha because I was about ready to let Steve out of the closet when Vivian stopped me as I was opening the door, which I had partially done, which gave the crazy diapered dead-man the excuse to attack something other than circuitry.

"Holy...!"

"Steve! Stop!"

The Zombie had reached through the crack, grabbed my neck and begin choking before the blonde of my dreams yelled her command.

"Johnny?"

"Yes, Vivian?"

"You've got to stop trusting Zombies, Sweetie."

We were joined by the rest of LeTorque including Melissa and Stephanie who was cradling in her arms the child of Lucifer; the cutest bundle of Werewolf terror you've ever seen.

I DOUBT THAT.

Seriously, he really is adorable.

THAT'S NOT WHAT HE WAS BRED FOR.

You know, you've really got a one-track mind.

I KNOW.

It wasn't a compliment.

"Hey, Johnny."

"Hey, Phillip."

"So... um... what do we do now?"

"I guess we wait for the ruling."

"Not about that, about..."

"Phillip!"

"Yes, Mistress" he replied to Trudy.

"Not now. Wait until we're out of range from..."

"Hello, everyone" said green-man from Heaven.

"Oh, hello, Nat" replied Trudy.

"So you actually pulled it off. I'm really proud of you guys, except for you Stephanie, I'm sorry for your loss of Matriarchy."

"It's okay, Nat. Melissa saw an opportunity I didn't see and ran with it. I can't be angry at her."

"Melissa?"

"Yes, Nat?"

"May I please see that piece of paper you're holding?"

"Oh, this?" she replied while revealing the one document which allowed LeTorque the opportunity to rule all.

"And this is real?"

"Yes, you may verify it, of course" she replied.

"I have to, Mistress, please forgive me for I do believe you, it's just..."

"It's fine, Nat. Here, go ahead and do your verifying thing" she said handing over the deed which once belonged to Bob's mom but now belonged to whoever was Matriarch of the family which ran Commercial Properties Management Incorporated. A deed to the land where a Reformatory once stood, a deed to the land which houses a prison, pumping out oil, allowing occupational overlapization to occur.

REALLY? YOU'RE ACTUALLY GOING TO USE THAT WORD?

Yeah, it kind of grows on you. So green Alien guy disappears and... pops right back in.

"Okay, it checks out. Congratulations, Melissa, you're in possession of one very powerful document."

"Thank you, Nat. So, do you think it will go our way?"

"I can't see why not? You're going to attempt a merger of the Clans, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah" she replied and I swear I saw a smile form on his molecular face.

I BET YOU DID.

Yeah, he's really been waiting for a long time for this so...

"Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

"Sure" he replied after getting approving nods from my Wolf and Vamp family who were standing around gawking at Puppy-boy.

WHY DID YOU DO THAT?

Do what?

ASK TO TALK TO HIM; IT'S DANGEROUS.

It's fun.

"What can I help you with, Johnny?"

"I was just curious; why do you want the LeTorque to win?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't want them to win, I'm not actually allowed to want them to win, it's just..."

"It's just what?"

"It's just, well, they're finally fulfilling their destiny."

"What destiny?"

"They're becoming Superior."

"Okay, that's pretty ambiguous there, Nat."

"Johnny, what do you think we've been doing on your planet this whole time?"

"I don't know?"

"What are the Superiors?"

"Werewolves and Vampires?"

"No, they're the ultimate killing machine."

"What?"

"They've been bred to kill. From the very beginning they've been bred to do one thing and one thing alone; dominate. Why do you think we would choose to breed that kind of species?"

"I have no idea."

"Because we're at war and have been since time immemorial."

"Time immemorial?"

"It means a really long time."

"Who have you been at war with?"

"Hell."

"Hell?"

"Yes. Heaven and Hell have been at war since before your species was even conceived."

"Hold on. Are you saying Hell is an actual place?"

"Yes. Well, it was an actual planet, still is in fact, but since the development of space travel Heaven and Hell have been kind of enlarged, as it were. We now consist of thousands of planets and have been at war with each other for so long we cannot remember a time when we were not."

"Who the heck are the Hell people?"

"The other half of us."

"The other what?"

"Our other half, Johnny, the other side of my species; the Hellions. They are what we are not."

"What are you not?"

"We are not them."

"Okay, that's being a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"No, Johnny, it isn't. My species has existed from the beginning and what you would perceive as normal traits, we do not. The Hellions are aggressive, we are not. The Hellions are possessive, we are not. The Hellions are insatiable, we are not. The Hellions are..."

"Okay, okay, I get it; the Hellions are bad people."

"Yes, and we've been battling them forever."

"So? What does this have to do with the Superiors?"

"They're our answer to Hell."

"Your answer?"

"Yes. We no longer possess the physical properties which allow for warfare, those were lost a very long time ago, so we use surrogates in our place."

"You what?"

"We use surrogates, Johnny, other species we've bred to counter what the Hellions have bred."

"So, what, you don't do your own fighting?"

"No, we're too advanced for that."

"And the Hellions?"

"They're too advanced also."

"So you make other little soldier-species do your dirty work?"

"We give them life."

"Apparently, you also give them Hell."

"True."

"So, then what is going to happen?"

"The LeTorque are going to do what they were bred to do."

"What's that?"

"They will combine the Clans and prepare for what must happen."

"What must happen?"

"The invasion from Hell."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, Johnny, why would I kid you?"

"I don't know? But this sounds, well, it sounds kind of cruel if you ask me."

"No, it's not cruel to allow a species to do what it was bred to do."

"Why didn't you just have them fight before?"

"Who?"

"The Superiors and the Hellion's breedlings."

"Breedlings?"

"Um, yeah. What else would you call creatures you breed?"

"Livestock."

"Okay, that's worse."

"I'm just kidding. The creatures Hell bred are called the Hoard and the reason we didn't have the two fight before is our Superiors kept getting better and better at killing. This planet's been evolving them to the point where they really are the most advanced form of combat species we've ever seen. Their evolution has astounded us at times, so much so, we allowed them to develop into what they are now."

"And what is that?"

"Victory. Victory for Heaven over Hell."

HE SEEMS TO BE A TRUE BELIEVER.

I certainly hope so because if he isn't this may not work.

WHY?

Because they have all the time in the world.

"It's time to go" Trudy said as she walked up to us.

"They've ruled?" Nat asked.

"Yes."

So, we went back inside the honky-tonk nightclub and...

"Nat?"

"Yes, Johnny?"

"There's only two Matriarchs ruling right?"

"Yes."

"What if it's a tie?"

"It can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because Melissa is the third Matriarch so if there's a tie she'll rule in your favor."

"Oh."

So we strolled up to the dance floor, took our places in the torchlight, and...

"We rule the LeTorque are Clan Elder of Third Clan."

... every Wolf howled.

Chapter 34

The ride back was pretty tranquil considering all we'd been through. George and Phillip were in front, Steve was in the trunk...

HOLD ON.

What?

THE TRUNK? SINCE WHEN DO PICKUP TRUCKS HAVE TRUNKS?

Oh, we weren't in the pickup truck. After ruling us Clan Elders we went and bought the coolest limousine you've ever seen. It was all black and sat about twenty with this awesome sunroof and a dang minibar in the back. We'd ditched our cellphones and went to the nearest clothing outlet to get new threads.

WHY?

Well...

"He can't hear us?" asked Trudy.

"Nope. My blood hides us from his beady little eyes and unless he's bugged every vehicle ever made, we're safe" I replied.

"Thank God! I didn't even think I could keep up that ruse any longer" exclaimed Phillip.

"You did a very good job, Phillip, I had no idea..."

"It was your idea, Johnny."

"Yeah, but that furosemide really did a good job on my memory. I had no idea who you were for a while."

"When did it start coming back, Sweetie."

"Oh, bits and pieces here and there but not fully until those two did their whole 'I choose Johnny for my mate thing'" I said while pointing at the lovely Melissa and Stephanie who were riding in the back seat with the Wolf-pup sleeping between them.

"Do you think he bought it?" asked Melissa.

"Who?" I replied.

"Nat. Do you think he believed us?"

"I'm sure he did."

"Why?"

"Because if he didn't we wouldn't be here right now."

"Where would we be?" Stephanie asked.

"Probably floating in outer space somewhere" I answered.

"Was it hard?" asked Trudy.

"Was what hard?"

"Forgetting."

"No. I didn't even feel it."

"Feel what? What are you guys talking about?" asked Stephanie.

"Oh, right, you were hibernating. Well, we knew we would need to keep injecting Johnny with furosemide so he wouldn't recover his memory, accidently slip up, and give away our little secret to Nat. So, whenever Johnny did one of his fainting spells we injected him before he woke up" said Trudy.

"So Nat doesn't know?"

"About your little bundle of joy having the powers of Lucifer and me all mixed together? No, I can guarantee you he doesn't."

"Because if he did?"

"He would eliminate him because he can't locate him so he can't control him. He only lets me live because I don't have the gifts of the Wolf and he really wants us to gather the Clans together so he can watch his little battle of Heavenly Superiors against the Hoards of Hell and the only way that's going to happen is if we can convince the other Clans we are the Superior family."

"Are we still going through with it?" asked George over his shoulder from the driver's seat.

"Yes, we must if we wish to survive what's coming."

"So they really are on the way?" asked Phillip.

"Yes, he so much as told me so."

"Okay, so then we go to war" said George.

"Yes, we go to war."

"Have you picked which one yet?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Who?" Stephanie asked.

"First Clan" I replied.

"Why First Clan?" she said.

"Well, two reasons actually, the first is we're no match for Second Clan right now..."

"But we will be when Daemon grows older" she replied with a smile.

"Daemon?"

"It's the name I've picked for him, Daemon LeTorque."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I thought it sounded appropriate since we're going to battle with Hell and all; you know, kind of a play on 'Demon'."

"Not bad."

"Thanks. So what's the second reason?" Stephanie asked.

"The second reason is we already have an ally in First Clan" I answered and saw Melissa respond by removing the blade from her purse.

"An ally? Who?" Stephanie responded.

"My sister."

"Your sister?"

"Yes."

"You have a sister in First Clan?"

"Yes. Well, technically, we have a sister in First Clan."

"We? Who's we?" she asked.

And I think it dawned on her right before it happened because her eyes grew wide and I heard a sudden intake of breath before her throat was slit.

"I'm we" answered Melissa.

HOW IS OUR LONG LOST SISTER?

Much better now that the two responsible for her mother's death have been removed. It's a shame about Stephanie, though.

SHE HAD TO GO.

Yes, I know.

SHE COULD NOT BE TRUSTED TO LET THE CHILD FULFILL ITS DESTINY.

I know.

AND SHE KILLED OUR MOTHER.

That too.

YOU DID WELL.

Thank you, Yin.

YOU'RE WELCOME, YANG.

XXXXXX

Thank you very much for reading this story. I would greatly appreciate any feedback, questions or comments you might have. I can be reached at the following address:

matthewrogers40@yahoo.com
