Sirius —

They often say, "A new day brings new beginnings," but for me, it's the night that holds such promise. While many people lay their heads down for rest, there are those like me who embrace the night, discovering the different ways in which the world lives and breathes.

“You, Sirius?”

I looked up to see a man awkwardly observing me, sizing me up. He seemed to be in his mid-forties, with mutton chops framing his face, a thick mustache, and a stubbly chin. His curly hair resembled that of the Lieutenants.

His description matched, for the most part, except for the doofus look on his face. 

“You‘re late.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were supposed to be here last night; now we are here ten-plus hours later.”

“What’s with you? Ever heard of a day off?”

“Last night, we aren’t talking about no day.”

“You sure are a stickler, eh?”

Time is easily lost, even for me, so I get it. But a whole day? I’m not in the best situation to move freely during it, so yes, I am a bit annoyed we are having this conversation tonight instead of the last.

“This way.”

We strolled up the stairs to the room where I still had a key card. My eyes fell flat as we entered the shabby safari-themed room.

Fuck.

Pushing past me, Frank eyed the scene. It left me hanging my head low. 

“Oi, is this some kind of joke? Where is he?”

“He was supposed to be right there! In the tub,” I answered.

The place was clean—spotless even—better than when I checked in. The black ink that was Hummings’s blood that stained the walls was all gone, too. It is a cheap motel with two stars at best, yet from the looks of it, they had exceptional cleaning services and complimentary body disposal.

“Do you have any idea how important that evidence is?”

“Please tell me about it,” I spat sarcastically.

“Damn runt. Kids these days have no respect.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It wasn’t a secret.”

“Tsk, whatever. What now?”

“I don’t know…” Truthfully, I had no idea what to say. Whoever cleaned this up and took Hummings’s body was thorough. They had made sure not to leave a single trace.

“He was so terrified,” I mumbled. “Scared to say a word. Then when that ring around his neck appeared and he—”

“Whoa, there. Hold on. You didn’t mention any of that to Woody. Ring? What ring? Did it look anything like this?”

Frank pulled his phone out to show me a picture. It was a bit blurry, but for the most part, the symbols, lines, and intricate markings were very similar to those that appeared on Hummings' neck when he spoke about something he clearly wasn’t supposed to say. 

“Yeah… Who is that?”

“A damn problem. Did the mate say anything?”

“He mentioned something about a curse…”

“Curses, huh?”

Frank surprised me as he explained some information he had been researching. Curses, to put it simply, are acts of dark magic. In this case, this was an example of a hex, a formulaic set of symbols placed on an object or a person.

“So what, voodoo? Witchcraft?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yeah…” Frank answered hesitantly. “It might very well be that. Witchcraft.”

He crossed his finger over his chest to make a cross before bowing out and turning for the door.

“Are you serious? You believe in that stuff?”

“Aye. It’s no children’s game.”

“You sound like my grandmother. Should I pour salt over my shoulders and at the door, too?”

“If that is her advice, then yes. She sounds very wise. Tell Woody I said hi, I am out.”

“You’re out?! What do you mean?” 

“You heard me. Witchcraft is some nasty stuff to deal with. No way in hell do I want to be here if this be true.”

As he opened the door, two individuals stood in his way. Their shadows towered over him.

Before anyone could say anything, Frankie was sent flying across the room, his body crashing through the wall and into the room next door. Meanwhile, I felt a sudden pressure, followed by a sting. A force kicking me back and sending me to the far wall. One of them had fired a shotgun square into my chest. My vision blurred as I coughed up blood. Digging my nails into the carpeted floor, I tried to crawl to cover in hopes of healing when another loud bang bellowed.

A hole in my shoulder left me simply lying there in a pool of blood.

“Hello, love. Sorry to barge in, but umm, you seemed to have caused us a bit of a problem. The girl you were talking to when you came by—she is one of the favorites. You mind telling us where she is and why she ain’t show up to work?”

“Ghrbbll-ghhhh.”

“Ah damn, I think I might have grazed her mouth.”

“Told you to let me hold onto the gun.”

“No, you did not.”

“Yes, I did!”

“Whatever, I suppose we are going to have to try again when she heals up and—”

“What?”

“Where’s her friend?”

“Ahhh…”

“Don’t look at me like that. Check on him. He might have some answers.”

In there need to talk too damn much, I managed to heal enough to get to one knee.

“Whoa, that was faster than—”

The moment he pointed the shotgun in my direction and fired, I was ready. The blast deflected, bouncing into the wall. The sight caught them both by surprise.

“How did she do that?” One asked, stunned.

The next shot struck the ground just as I launched my strike, creating an opening that allowed me to unleash a flurry of punches, finally prying the weapon from his grip. He absorbed each hit without flinching, forcing me to engage him head-on.

As we shuffled back and forth, trading jabs, he shifted his weight forward, leaning heavily into me. His sheer size made me stagger, giving him the perfect moment to lift me up and hurl me through the wall effortlessly.

Coughing away the dust, I rolled my shoulders and rose to my feet. A swift kick buckled his stance, and a second blow to his left side brought him to his knees—right at the perfect height for a well-timed swing aimed straight at his head.

“OUUUUUCH!” I yelled, clutching my knuckles. Taking a second look, they were bleeding. Punching him hurt. Like really fucking hurt.

“Plated silver skull, love. Long time in the business.”

“You’re taking forever. Can I join?” the friend asked, standing by the entrance.

“Shut up and get her partner.”

“Just let me handle this. You’re taking too long.”

For no reason at all, he started to tear at his shirt, his nails digging into his skin to peel it back. It flaked off before dissolving, its bones cracking and twisting to contort to new weight under its newfound shape. His teeth sharpened with his nails as he dug at the exposed bones. The skin that healed over was covered in fur.

Standing upright on two legs was a beast. More wolf than human, as its eyes glared at me before letting out a howl. 

“Oh, for the love—”

I blitzed my way to the bathroom, closing the door behind me, barely managing to escape a flurry of claws that sliced through the bed like butter with a hot knife.

The beast continued clawing and howling, prying for any possibility of reaching me through the door. The flimsy thing didn’t last long as one sank into my leg.

“Argggggggh!”

Before I knew it, I was yanked out like a rag doll, my grip barely catching onto the wolf’s partner. The two of them kept prying me off, taking potshots. Amid the chaos, I managed a few punches and kicks to keep some distance. It was rough, but in the scuffle, I wrestled the shotgun away, priming it before firing off several rounds.

The tinhead didn’t have any metal shielding his heart; one blast was all it took to put him down for good. As for the dog, well, my only choice was to keep pumping it full of silver rounds.

That held it off just long enough for the shotgun to jam. The moment it did, the snarling beast seized the opening, driving its claws into my ribs and hurling me out the second-story window straight onto the pavement below.

I rolled over just in time to see the beast leap down, jaws wide. I threw my arm up to block the bite, gritting my teeth as it tried to tear my arm from its socket. I heard a sickening pop, the muscles giving way. With a well-placed knee to its chest, I forced it back, leaving it dazed.

Then, suddenly, a pair of headlights flared behind us. I flattened myself against the ground as the car barreled forward, slamming the creature through the wall of a first-floor room.

Clambering out from under the wreckage, I struggled to my feet, a satisfied grin spreading as I saw Frank in the driver’s seat, unscrewing the cap of a flask to take a sip.

“That was one tough son of a bitch.”

“That’s werewolves for you,” I chimed. “But I thought you were leaving.”

Leaning against the car door, I popped my shoulder back into place before removing one of the wolf’s long claw-like nails from my side. The rest of my wounds quickly healed.

“A witch is one thing,” Frankie said in between his little sips. “But a dog, that is something I can handle.”

He got out, loading a revolver with silver bullets. He aimed, but I slowly lowered it, telling him not yet.

“You serious?” he asked.

“What are you so worried about? It sounds like you have experience with werewolves. So relax for now.”

“Tsk, fine, whatever; I got some stuff to keep him tied up in the back.”

As I turned, Frank jolted in my direction.

“The backseat, not the boot.”

Who calls it that? Just call it for what it was—the trunk.

With some cuffs and metal wiring, we tied up the beast, who, now unconscious, resembled a man whose face was all too familiar. This one and the dead man upstairs were no strangers at all. Taking to a chair myself, I plopped down to sit, ready to question the bouncer from the Smitten Kittens.