Winter in the city was always so depressing it seemed. Everything had a grey rather steely Quality to it, from the crushed rock salt coding all of the cars to the snow that had turned into slush And soaked through the careless trespassers' socks. Even the sky looked grey With an overcasting of clouds clinging to it and threatening to start snowing at any moment. People hurried down the sidewalks, Shoulders hunched in and dark clothing blending them into one Never-ending mass, only adding to the gray atmosphere that hung thick Over everything.

But then, like a fish swimming to the surface of murky water, a splash Of color appeared, coming in the form of a bright blue knitted hat. Only adding to the effect was the fact that a rather tall man was wearing it, making the hat stand out among the crowd by a handful of inches. The man himself was mild in comparison to his head adornment however, With average pleasant features that didn't make him immediately stand out, while still managing to come off as somewhat handsome. Like everyone else, he Was wearing a dark coat, an almost black gray wool That came down to the tops of his calves, Underneath of which was a bright white button up shirt. This was carefully tucked Into a pair of neatly pressed black slacks. Simple, durable Black shoes finished the ensemble, obviously chosen to cope with the weather rather then be fashionable. But unlike everyone else, he actually seemed to be comfortable with the snow, even if his expression was slightly grim.

William Grant, As the man was known, Was in and Of himself an anomaly. That was part in Parcel something that came along with being a werewolf, he supposed.

He had once been like the people walking around him, weak, Oblivious by choice or design to the supernatural world, and completely human. He had had a family once, had just started to get his first grey hairs and had begun to develop laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. But then his own naivety had been shattered when he and his family had been attacked. He, his wife, and his three young children had gone on a hike, enjoying some time away from the city out in the wilderness. He hadn't seen where the werewolf had come from initially, But it had killed the youngest of his children before he had had the chance to react. A Walkingstick and a rock. That was what he had been able to use to break several of the creature's bones, horrified by the strength and sheer impossibility of refusing to die under the attacks the beast showed. Eventually, he had had the opportunity to retrieve a knife from his bag, The creature's clause having ripped through the fabric and spilling the contents across the ground. He hadn't known then that the silver coating the blade was the ultimate factor that had saved his life. His family dead around him, the rogue werewolf having long since run away, Joseph had lain in the dirt awaiting his own death, an arm pressed over his stomach where it had been ripped open. He hadn't been able to save them and he welcomed death.

Only he didn't die. William had eventually woken up in a bed that was placed in a room with bars across the high Windows and bars where a door should have been. Two men were there, waiting for him to wake up. They explained to him what he had become, tried to impress upon him the changes that he had gone through. At first, he hadn't believed them. Until one of the men changed into a wolf before his eyes.

William had quickly discovered that he had been picked up by some members of the local werewolf pack and the Alpha intended to bring him into the "family", As he called it. He had resisted at first, not wanting to embrace being a monster. But time, Friendship, and acceptance had eventually worn him down. And he had spent the last 80 years within his new family, learning how to control and become one with his wolf, keeping the secret of his existence.

Recently, that secret had begun to change. After years of counseling and debating, the elders of his kind had agreed, along with some of the other supernatural creatures that lived in the world, that it would be better for their survival if some of their numbers came out to the public. Human technology and science was progressing to the point where it was becoming near impossible for the supernatural world to stay hidden for much longer. If they preemptively came out, this would hopefully be a sign of nonaggression to the human population. They wouldn't all come out at once, no. The werewolves would reveal themselves first. Some secrets still had to be kept after all. But those of higher power carefully selected those beneath them to be The front of the revelation, the face of the species. William hadn't really expected to be one of those chosen. But his Alpha had come to him, informing him that there was a special assignment that needed to be done, something that would form positive relations with the humans, and for some reason, William was the chosen candidate. He hadn't been happy with it, but there wasn't much arguing when your Alpha gave a direct order.

He had, he found out, the unpleasant task of not working alone. Some other poor soul had also been recruited for the assignment. But William hadn't been given very many details about who this would be. All he knew was that they would be someone sent by the FBI. He hadn’t even gotten a name. Because of the lack of information, he had chosen to wear a distinctive hat, making himself purposefully stand out so that the other person coming on this investigation could find him, Informing his Alpha that he would be doing so. And then he had gotten on the plane that had taken him to this snowy city.

Now, standing in the middle of Central Square and blinking up at the oppressing looking clouds overhead, pushing back the memories that had surfaced, William Cradled a large cup of hot chocolate in his hands as he waited for his partner to arrive so that they could discuss their upcoming assignment. The heat That radiated through the plastic cup to his fingers felt nice as he shifted his weight Back onto his heels while he Waited, carefully scanning the crowd of faces that ever changed around him for a glint Of recognition that would come to his chosen partner's eyes. He Would quietly sip At the sweet creamy liquid and offer intense stares to those who showed far too much interest in him and most likely his hat without the acknowledgment of Understanding of Who he actually was. At that point, they would either walk away rather hastily, casting nervous glances over their shoulders, or Return his stare With a slightly unsure And rather dazed Expression, before walking away with puzzlement Afterwards. It Didn't bother him in the slightest. Shrugging His broad shoulders with a small rustle of silk lining, his light blue gaze Continued to sweep over the sea of people that ever changed around him.

Taya Turner sat in the passenger side of her partner’s Hyundai Accent.The silver-gray car idled at the curb as it waited for its driver to return. The gentle purring of the engine was lost on the woman inside.
What few rays of sun made it through the cloud cover shone in her shoulder-length hair. It caught on its artificial highlights in the otherwise brunette strands. Her soft, tan features gave her a slightly more youthful look than her actual twenty-four years.
She absently tapped her chin with the end of her favorite pen. She stared down at the papers and photos scattered in her lap, reviewing the file of one William Grant for the hundredth time.
No matter how many times she read through it, it still seemed more like a fantasy than an actual profile. Just like everything else since the start of the Werewolves Interpolation Reveal. Or, as everyone called it, W.I.R. Most people said it had to be a hoax. Some crazed group of maniacs who thought they were Lycans, and took it to the next level with impeccable special effects. Others clung to the belief of it like a lifeline.
All Taya knew for sure was that since its start, it’d caused nothing but trouble and no small mountain of paperwork and investigations. Fights had ensued. W.I.R. supporters had crawled out of the woodwork, while others made it feel like the Salem Witch trials on repeat, swapping witches for werewolves. Whatever these people—human or otherwise—had been expecting, it was mass chaos.
Since the ‘reveal,’ she had hoped to land a case involving the so-called wolves, to discover the truth behind the matter for herself. And now, she had one. Well, it was more that he had an assignment and she just happened to be his partner, but still. It was her case by proxy.
But it wasn’t the kind of intel gathering case she’d hoped for. No. This was a homicide case. Her first murder case as an official FBI agent. And William Grant, acclaimed werewolf, was to join them in the investigation.
Her partner had muttered it being something about solidifying the blurry lines between truth and fiction in the public eye. If the government could work with and validate the werewolves’ existence, then maybe the citizens could, too. Or, better yet in his opinion, realize it was as fake as alien crop circles and return to their normal lives.
Regardless, what mattered most, was that they solved the string of homicides and disappearances as quick as possible. The sooner they found the killer—or killers—the better.
Taya’s hazel gaze strayed to the outdoors. She glanced to the café they had stopped at.
Gray, contaminated snow huddled against the building as if it feared someone would come shovel it away. Frost lurked at the edges of the storefront window. Inside, she could just make out the back of her partner’s head towering at the front of the line. His black trilby hat added a couple inches to his height. Beyond him, a flustered barista hurried about behind the counter.
Thankful he was almost done—and feeling a bit sorry for the barista—Taya returned her attention to the file.
If none of it was fabricated, then, by all accounts, William Grant should be dead. Or, at the very least, bedridden in a home for senior citizens. Yet, somehow, he looked even younger in his recent, out-of-state driver’s license photo than he did in the ones supposedly dated from nearly eighty years ago.
The sleeves of her burgundy coat rustled lightly as she picked up the photocopy of the old, black-and-white picture.
A family all dressed in their Sunday best posed in front of a park’s statue. A forty-three-year-old William Grant stood beside a rather pleasant-looking woman trying to keep her bonnet from flying away. Their children, three boys between the ages eleven and sixteen, each looked bored and ready to get on with the day. A normal, happy family. A family destined for tragedy, if the reports were to be believed.
She swapped it for the more recent photo. Besides being in color, it looked as if someone had Photoshopped the black-and-white one, cleaning up the signs of aging. He looked somewhere around his late twenties, give or take. And unlike in the family photo, his eyes looked haunted instead of happy. Like they’d seen more than their fair share of sorrow, the weight of seemingly existing outside of time making his smile drawn. No matter what way you looked at it, though, he looked completely human.
Though she trusted tests had been run to rule out tampering with the original from the 1900s, there was every chance the similar appearance and name was simply a biological coincidence. Like another Nicolas Cage conspiracy.
Still staring at the pictures as if she could spot some kind of tell he was a werewolf, she reached for her travel mug from the cupholders in front of the center console. She brought it to her lips.
She paused, taking a grateful moment to inhale the rich aroma of sugar-afied coffee. Anything was better than the earthy yet minty scent of sage filling the car. Sage and cinnamon. She’d started to think of it as her partner’s signature scent, so had expected it the first time she rode with him. What she hadn’t anticipated was its intensity in such a condensed space.
The sage, she figured, had something to do with dispelling evil spirits. But the cinnamon? It was too natural smelling to be a cologne. She’d even done a quick search for a spice ball or something under the seats when her partner wasn’t looking, but hadn’t found anything. She’d resigned to the suspicion he bathed in it.
She slowly sipped at her coffee. Her attention shifted back to the file.
As much trouble as W.I.R. had caused, her curiosity and excitement threatened to get the best of her. She smiled around her mug’s lid. The detective side of her wanted to know the truth about the whole thing. Though she wished it was under different circumstances, the opportunity had still dropped right into her lap.
Maybe there really was something to the whole, ‘beginner’s luck’ thing.
She glanced up as her partner strode past the windshield. His black, wool overcoat only enhanced his rather ominous appearance, its tails flaring out slightly behind him.
He hastily entered the car. The chill of the outdoors chased out the warmth inside, making Taya shiver. She reached to turn up the car’s heat.
“Blasted winter,” he growled. He scowled as he tapped off bits of slush from his shiny, cap toe shoes. Satisfied he wouldn’t dirty the pristine interior, he fully settling into the driver’s seat.
Everything about Eli Archer’s features was pointed. His high, prominent cheekbones. His long, thin face and slender chin. His beak-like nose that looked like it could easily take out someone’s eye if he turned too fast. Taya couldn’t help but wonder if he was a distant cousin of a crow.
He took a long swig of his warm drink as if trying to drown his frustrations of winter in it. Years of practice kept his nose from poking a hole in the lid.
“Long line?” Taya asked absently, refocusing again on the file. Whatever he’d gotten, the new scent of something citrusy joined the array of smells in the car. The strange mix threatened to make her stomach churn.
Eli grunted. He placed his cup in the holder closest to him. His icy blue eyes narrowed as he noticed the file. His scowl seemed to deepen, but it was hard to be certain; his resting face itself was always either a frown or a scowl. Taya wasn’t sure if his facial muscles even knew how to make a smile.
“What, don’t have those memorized yet?” he snapped. He took hold of the wheel, black leather gloves covering his hands.
Taya shrugged, doing her best to brush off his tone. In the nearly two weeks she’d been his partner, she’d started to think of that as his normal, neutral attitude. She’d heard that she was the senior agent's twelfth partner in half as many months, and was determined to show it would take more than his attitude to scare her off. She might be a newbie, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle bad manners from an arrogant senior.
Besides. The man needed someone who could actually deal with people without sending them off in tears just from introducing himself. Which, according to the stories, had actually happened a few times. Once to one of his now transferred partners.
“What can I say? I like to be prepared.” She sat the photo down and straightened the papers beneath it. “Current circumstances aside, this whole W.I.R. thing is interesting.”
Archer snorted derisively as he adjusted his rear-view mirror. A couple crystalline pendulums hanging from it glittered dully in the gray light. A four-leaf clover preserved in resin hung roughly around their center.
“What do these people stand to gain from this?” she mused more to herself. She tapped her pen against her chin again. She took a last look at the pictures at the top of the thick stack of papers behind them. “Is it the publicity? A desire for chaos?”
“Whatever they want,” Archer interjected bitterly, “they can all drown in the River Styx for all I care.”
Taya closed the file and clipped her pen onto the folder. “I don’t get you.” She returned her travel mug to the holder and popped open the glove compartment. “You’ll give Styx the benefit of the doubt, but you won’t consider that maybe these people aren’t entirely malignant?”
He glared at Taya, the piercing effect enough to make the strongest of men wither beneath it. Somehow, his eyes always grew steelier when he was upset. Which, really, was 90% of the time from what Taya could tell.
She shoved the file into the glove compartment, carefully avoiding looking at him.
“You’ve seen the mess these idiots have caused,” he growled. He flicked on his blinker to rejoin the stream of cars on the road. “Trust me, Turner. It can only get worse from here. I guarantee those murders are just the start. The sooner this whole werewolf mess blows over as an elaborate prank, the better. For everyone.”
“Plus less paperwork to deal with?” Taya’s brows rose.
Archer snorted. The side of his mouth and nose raised with the noise, forming the closest thing to a smile Taya figured he could manage. “That too.”


If there was one word to describe Eli Archer’s driving, it was ‘insanity.’ The man knew how to weave between traffic in the perfect way to make cardiac arrest a real danger to his passengers. But at least it got them to their destination on time.
He parked a couple blocks away from Central Square. Killing the engine, he heaved a sigh.
Taya unbuckled, thankful to have finally come to a stop. There was no way she’d ever get used to his driving.
Archer pulled the keys from the ignition. A gray rabbit’s foot swayed from the keychain before he shoved them in a pocket of his overcoat.
As Taya sipped on a pair of knitted gloves, their red a shade brighter than her coat, Eli finished off his drink in a single long swig. He tossed the empty cup into a small trash container in the back seat. He swapped it out for a briefcase, then opened his door.
Taya grabbed her mug, and the two left the warmth of the car. Eli paused to pick off a piece of lint from his overcoat, then joined Taya at the sidewalk. He carefully avoided the snow bank, scowling down at it as if his ire alone would be enough to prevent it from soiling his gray suit trousers. For the sake of the snow bank, Taya hoped it worked.
The two headed toward the cobbled square. Archer’s shoes tapped sharply against the sidewalk, his long steps measured just right to avoid stepping on the intentional cracks in the cement.
Taya rushed to keep up. Each of his long strides equaled nearly two of hers, his head rising almost six inches above her own. The bells of a church rang faintly in the distance, chiming out eleven o’ clock.
As always, Central Square was packed. Voices rose into the air by the dozens. People came and went, hurrying about on break or changing shifts. The two agents scanned the area, searching for a stationary face matching William Grant’s photo.
An extra splash of color amidst the sea of darker and neutral colors caught Taya’s attention. A man with a blue stocking cap stood near a fountain at the center of the square. His gaze searched the crowd. Though his side faced them, she felt certain he was the one they were here for.
“Archer,” she nudged him lightly and nodded to the familiar man.
Eli followed her gesture. Without a word, he headed toward the splash of blue, Taya at his heels.
“William Grant?” Archer asked as they neared, his voice flat and as chilly as the wintry outdoors.
Taya suppressed a groan at his tone as the agents stopped in front of the blue-capped William. Contrasting her partner’s expression, she offered William a smile in silent greeting. Side-by-side, the two agents looked like the living version of the Comedy and Tragedy Masks.
Archer pulled his badge wallet out from an inside coat pocket. “I’m Agent Archer,” he said, opening the wallet to show proof of the statement.
Taya mimicked him, showing her own credentials with her free hand before replacing them in her coat.
“And this,” he nodded to Taya, “is—”
“Agent Taya Turner,” she introduced herself, her voice light.
Archer glared down at her for her interruption, but she ignored him. A skill she found she was getting rather good at.
She smiled warmly as she offered William her hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grant! Though, I wish it was under better circumstances.” Her smile faltered, gaining a hint of sadness.

With his gaze regularly skimming over the crowd, William’s eyes had just glanced in the Direction of a digital clock display hanging in the window of one of the nearby establishments when his attention was snatched by the flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye. As he looked, his attention immediately focused on a little girl in a blue and yellow dress, her curls tied back with a yellow ribbon. Each of her hands were occupied by one each of her parents hands, the couple smiling at her and one another as they strategically lifted and lowered her to and from the ground as they walked, all three of them giggling. A pair of boys trailed them, the Younger of the two chatting enthusiastically with his brother about what sounded like a video game they had gotten the opportunity to test. William’s expression softened for a moment, before deepening with sadness an instant before he could pull his stoic mask back into place. With one last glance at the girl and her parents, he forcibly made himself go back to watching the crowd.

And then a powerful smell reached his nostrils, overpowering all others and making him instinctively want to wrinkle his nose or sneeze. Resisting the urge to do either, William had just glanced in the direction that he thought the smell was coming from when a rather neat and orderly looking man stepped up to him and spoke his name in a cool no nonsense voice. Briefly studying the sharp hawk like features, the Blue eyes that resemble chips of ice, he then looked towards the woman at his side, genial smile playing around her lips and Hazel eyes that was so much different than her partner‘s. Because the two had to be partners, if both recognized him. Confirming his suspicions, the sharp man reached into an inner pocket and pulled out an FBI badge, The woman doing likewise a moment later. With this establishment of identity, he finally nodded his head once to confirm his own, responding to the question he had heard when his name had been spoken. Looking from Agent Archer, As the man identified himself, to Agent Turner, a brief hint of amusement glittered in his eyes at her interruption before he hid it once again.

“Simply William will do just fine,” he responded to her in a deep even bass, taking her hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “Though I agree about the circumstances being less than desirable. Shall we find somewhere to discuss the matter further? Or would you prefer to stay here?“ he directed this last question towards Archer, who’s frigid demeanor might give the impression that he preferred being outside in the middle of winter rather than seek refuge in a store or restaurant.

Official introductions complete, Taya released William’s hand with a nod.
“I’d prefer to have done this at the office,” Eli answered William’s questions through an almost growling sigh. “Fewer civilians.” His gaze followed a few oblivious passersby, eyes narrowing slightly.
Taya spared her partner a glance.
“But,” she drew out the word as she looked back to William, “I know a good diner near here. Usually not too busy this time of day,” she added, looking to Eli, “with a back room they’d probably let us use, so we could talk in private.” She turned her head back to William. “And good food, if you’re hungry.”
Eli sighed. “Very well.” He gestured with a gloved hand for her to lead the way.
Taya nodded, then headed toward a side road leading from the square. She walked quickly through the streets, eager to get out of the chill of the day. Eli followed, his posture and dour expression a ward against small talk.
Various shops lined the street. Displays in storefront windows added an extra splash of color between winter’s monochromes and the rust-colored bricks of the building strip.
She paused just long enough to open a door beneath a weathered sign reading, “The Flying Cow.” A bell decked in holly jingled as she entered.
Behind her, Eli eyed the sign’s cartoon of a winged purple cow crammed between sandwich fixings and burger buns. Frowning and brows raised skeptically, he followed Taya inside.
The aroma of fries and cooking meat filled the warm blast of air inside the diner. Taya took a deep breath, enjoying the smell she hoped would drown out Archer's herbal scent for a while. As she had promised, only a handful of people occupied the mismatched chairs and purple upholstered booths. A few paintings drawn by local artists hung from the beige walls.
A man in his early twenties stepped out from the kitchen, his shock of hair so red it had to be dyed. A waitress with a tray piled with drinks and plates of food balanced in her hands followed him out.
“Taya!” The man’s face lit up with a smile as he looked to her. “It’s been a while, doll—” his term of endearment cut off, turning into an awkward clearing of his throat as he noticed Eli behind her. “Er…”
“Hey, Alex,” she answered, unphased as she stepped toward the counter. “Think we could use your party room for a while?” She nodded to where one of the back walls gave way to a folding door.
He blinked and looked back to Taya. “Yeah. Yeah, sure!” His smile returned a bit tentatively. He quickly gathered three menus from behind the counter.
Alex cast Taya a curious, knowing glance, but said nothing as he led the way into the back room. He placed the menus on the table in front of three of the nearest chairs.
“Luce’ll be in shortly to take your order.” With a last glance to Taya, silently warning her to expect questions the next time he saw her, Alex left, sliding the door shut behind himself.

The briefest of smiles flickered across William’s face at the mention of being hungry, as if The idea we’re connected to some sort of private joke. Werewolves were usually always hungry to one extent or another. Higher metabolism, the wolf‘s need to be active driving them to regularly exercise, both probably played a factor. And if there were injuries to heal... Well, he’d inform both agents of the need to keep a wounded werewolf properly fed if and when the situation ever arose.

Stepping to a nearby trash can as Agent Turner started off towards The diner she had in mind, William dropped his nearly empty cup inside before taking up the rear position of the group. He didn’t mind being in the back, it gave him the opportunity to observe both of his companions freely as well as keep an eye on their surroundings. Unoffended by Agent Archer’s obvious standoffishness, William focused that much more of his attention on those passing by, his nostrils subtly flaring as he took in scents. Luckily, despite Eli’s heavy aroma, he was able to pick out details of those they passed.

Amid the smells of various soaps, wet fabric, body odor, and food, a distinctive scent consisting of a musk and spice mixture caught William’s attention, his head automatically turning a fraction towards the other werewolf. Their eyes met for a moment, a subtle inclining of heads in acknowledgment passing between them, before the other had gone by. Glancing back towards the FBI agents to see if either had noticed his brief encounter, he found his attention immediately focusing on Taya as she pulled open the door to what looked to be a burger joint.

The smell of french fries, cooking oil, hamburgers, and Greece enveloping him as William followed the two agents into The diner with only a brief lifting of one eyebrow for the unusual mascot, he instinctively cast his gaze around the interior, mentally taking note of who was there. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he reassured himself of the absence of anyone other than humans before waiting politely for Taya to make her request of her friend. With permission to use the semi private party room secured, he followed after the redhead and paused just inside the door way to get another look around. As The man eventually left, he step towards the table, pulling out one of the chairs and gesturing in an invitation for Taya to sit, tucking the chair in after her. He then circled the table, settling into one of the chairs facing the doorway while simultaneously shrugging out of his coat and draping it over the back of his chair. Reaching up, he pulled off his hat at last, revealing slightly wavy chestnut hair cut short with a soft crackling of static that made him grimace briefly. Flattening what he could of his slightly disheveled hair, William dropped the hat onto the floor next to him without a second glance before picking up his menu and scanning over it.

After only a moment of the three of them being alone, the promised waitress appeared, dark brown hair pulled back away from her face, a smile already in place upon her lips. Stepping up to the table, she pulled out a small notebook and pen, clicking the latter and glancing between each face. “Welcome to ‘The Flying Cow!’ My name is Lucy and I’ll be happy to serve you this afternoon. I can start you off with some drinks, unless everyone knows what they would like,“ she said in a cheerful tone, automatically looking towards William before shifting her gaze instead to Taya when William looked pointedly in the agent‘s direction.

Taya glanced around the large room, double checking they were, indeed, alone. Tables meant for four were shoved together near the back to create a single, long table. A couple others like the one the trio were assigned to strategically dotted the area around it. Purple trim decorated the walls and more paintings supporting local artists hung in satisfying, even intervals. Shelves lined the top of the room, displaying a slew of bovine knickknacks. A door labeled, “Emergency Exit,” created the only other exit to the room.
Eli, his natural scowl tugging downward slightly, let out a slight sigh and chose a seat that would let him keep both doors and his companions in sight. He sat his briefcase down, leaning it against the legs of one of the chairs, then shrugged out of his overcoat. He straightened his black tie against his gray suit jacket then took his seat.
Taya gave William a smile in thanks as the man pulled out a chair for her. She mimicked her male companions in removing her coat, draped it across the back of her chair, and sat.
A moment of silence fell between them as Taya glanced through the menu, already knowing what she wanted, while Eli examined it with a sharp, condescending eyebrow raised.
When the waitress entered, Taya placed her menu down. When the other woman’s gaze turned to her at William’s insistence, recognition flashed in her eyes.
“Hey, Luce!” Taya offered, fidgeting with the edge of the menu. “I’ll take the daily special. Side of fries. With a coke.”
“Sure thing!” Lucy beamed, pulling out a notepad and pen. She quickly wrote the order down, then turned to Eli. “For you, sir?”
“Just a cup of tea,” he ordered coolly. He held the menu out to her to take, not really looking at her. “Mint.”
Lucy jotted it down with an enthusiastic nod. If his tone bothered her, she didn’t let it show. She took his and Taya’s menus, tucked them under her arm, then looked back to William, awaiting his order.
Once received, she left with the reassurance she’d “get those drinks right out,” then left the trio alone once more.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Eli bent toward his briefcase. “I trust you’ve been briefed on the current situation, Mr. Grant?” he intoned. The gentle click of the locks on his briefcase springing open rose from beside his chair.
Taya suppressed a sigh. Straight to business, then.
Eli placed a classification folder on the table in front of him. The FBI’s logo stood out on the front of the brownish folder. Though thinner than the one Taya had been browsing through, she was confident she knew its contents.
Eli rested a hand on the folder and looked to William for his answer, the agent’s thin, spindly pointer finger tapping on it lightly.

Gaze once again returning to the menu as the waitress‘s attention focused on Agent Turner with an expression of recognition, William deliberated with a few of his options as he listened to first Taya and then her partner easily place their orders, both ready with their answers. Not wishing to hold things up, especially with Archer being involved, by the time Lucy had looked back to him, he had chosen perhaps not his first choice of food, but something acceptable.

“I’d like two of your double cheeseburgers, a double order of french fries, and a strawberry lemonade, please,” he requested smoothly, holding out his own menu with a polite smile.

He caught The briefest hint of surprise Flickr across Lucy‘s face before she managed to cover it up with another smile of her own. Watching her leave, William couldn’t help but feel somewhat amused. He didn’t eat out very often, but when he did, he always got a small kick out of The wait staff‘s reactions to his usually larger than average order. His trim appearance didn’t lend the impression that he could eat that much. As he had reflected on earlier, werewolves needed a lot of calories to keep them going. Smile fading back into a more reserved appearance, his blue eyes returned to the FBI agents, wondering where their conversation would go next.

Eli apparently wasn’t one for small talk, or beating around the bush, getting straight to the point by asking William about his knowledge on the situation as he reached for his briefcase as soon as the waitress was out of the room and withdrawing a manila folder stamped with the FBI’s logo and tapping it with one of his thin fingers. Taya didn’t look all that happy to be jumping straight into the crux of their meeting, though she didn’t outwardly object. William could almost hear her desire to sigh and had to work on not releasing one of his own. Leaning back in his chair, he scrutinized the severe man for several seconds as he considered how best to answer.

“...Just William, if you don’t mind,“ he finally reiterated, though he felt as if it was probably a waste of time. When it came to Eli, ...Agent Archer, at least. Pressing his lips together in a momentary hard line, he continue Don without giving the other an opportunity to respond. “More or less, yes.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but William held up a hand quickly, gaze flicking to the door. a few seconds later, the door in question opened, revealing Lucy coming back with their assortment of drinks. Adopting a polite smile as the waitress approached, he accepted his drink with a murmured word of thanks.

“Here’s that strawberry lemonade for you,” Lucy was saying as she separated out the drinks, placing each in front of the intended owner, “your coke Taya, and your mint tea sir. Is there anything else I can get you?” she then asked, tugging a couple of straws from the apron around her waist and setting them on the table before glancing around.

No, thank you,” William responded after a moment in his smooth baritone, keeping his polite smile in place until Lucy had nodded and once again left the room, promising to return as soon as the food was ready. As soon as she had left however, the smile faded, turning into a rather grim expression.

With a rather deep sigh, William picked up his glass, ignoring the straw and taking a sip. He seemed to contemplate the flavor for a moment before setting his cup back down carefully on the cardboard coaster. He then ran his thumb under one eye as if tired.

“I was told that there are at least seventeen missing or dead people at last count,“ he said soberly, some of the names and faces he could remember passing through his mind. “The bodies of the victims that were recovered showed animal like mutilation and in some cases... partial consumption. Like whoever had killed them took a few bites.” His mouth twisted into a deeper scowl, as if The very idea was disgusting to him. And truly, it was. To some werewolves, hunting humans was part of the fun of being what they were, but for the majority, including William, hunting humans was an abhorrent act no better than murder.

Eli’s eyes narrowed in the short silence that fell as William collected his response. The tapping of the agent’s finger quickened impatiently, a short, nearly imperceptible pause every third tap. When the other man finally responded, Eli’s perpetual scowl deepened at William’s repeated name request.
Taya glanced to William and cleared her throat, trying to indicate for him to answer the more pressing matter. Though she’d learned to deal with her partner’s personality quirks—and couldn’t help but enjoy, to at least some extent, how much William’s presence seemed to agitate Eli—she’d rather spare William from dealing with more of Archer’s attitude than necessary.
Eli snorted at William's vague answer to his question.
Taya opened her mouth to kindly voice the unspoken request for elaboration from William, when the supposed werewolf raised a hand, cutting her off.
Eli’s icy blue gaze flicked toward the door, following William’s nearly immediately. His tapping paused. His head bent forward slightly in suspicion. Taya swore she saw his gloved hand twitch for the gun hidden beneath his jacket at his belt.
“Is everything—?” Before Taya could finish her question, the door opened, drawing her attention. Her brows raised as Lucy entered with their drinks balanced on a small tray. She looked to William, intrigued curiosity glittering in her eyes.
Taya gave a distracted smile in thanks to Lucy as the waitress placed her drink in front of her. The agent glanced subtly toward the door, trying to figure out if William’s prediction was a trick of observation or a show of the supposed super hearing rumored to be possessed by werewolves.
“Privacy,” Eli snapped in answer to the waitress. “If we need something before their orders arrive, we’ll find you.” He waved dismissively at Lucy, shooing her toward the door.
Taya glared at him, but he ignored it as blatantly as he did the waitress’ indignant expression.
“Sorry, Luce,” she offered, giving the other girl an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind him. I’m still working on his people skills.” She knew it was unprofessional, but the indubitable reprimand that awaited her for it would be worth it. Business or not, there was no reason to be rude to servers.
Lucey gave her an uneasy smile.
“Excuse me?” Eli growled, looking to Taya. His glower only confirmed she’d be getting an earful the moment they were alone.
It was Taya’s turn to ignore him. “This is more than enough,” she tapped the top of her glass, “thanks! Like he said, though, it’d be great if we could get a bit of extra privacy once our food’s done,” she reiterated, as if giving an example of the polite version of Eli’s demand would help it sink in.
Taya watched Lucy leave. She stared after her for a moment, taking note of the slight shadow just visible beneath the door as the waitress walked away. A hint of disappointment dusted over her. So that must have been how he’d known Lucy was coming. Of course.
Her attention shifted back to William as he sighed. His demeanor had completely shifted, as if the weight of the case they’d met to investigate had finally settled on his shoulders. He looked genuinely troubled.
Taya took the moment to unwrap her straw and put it in her own glass. Eli pulled off his right black leather glove, revealing a jagged scar in a rough X on top of it. Using his freed fingers, he pinched the tab of the teabag steeping in his mug. He bobbed it around in the steaming water, finally putting a small effort in hiding his impatience at the wait for a full answer from William.
When, at last, William elaborated on his vague response, Eli gave a grunt in confirmation. Taya nodded solemnly. The weight of that number alone made her heart sink. And was yet another reason the bureau had grown more than willing to ‘help bridge the gap between human and the rumored werewolf’ on this case. Any little bit helped. Even if it meant using crazy to find crazy.
“Eighteen as of today,” Taya corrected dismally.
“Anthony Cormack was found similarly mutilated in an alley behind his office building,” Eli picked up for her. “The janitor discovered him around five this morning while taking trash out. The coroner’s estimated his time of death to be around three a.m., but the recent temperatures make it difficult to be certain.”
Eli slid the folder across the table to William. A folder housing a detailed summery of each homicide and potential related kidnapping.
“It’s believed he tried to fight back; forensics found some hair trapped under his fingernails,” Eli continued, sitting back in his chair. “They’re testing it as we speak.” He lifted the dripping teabag from the mug and placed it at the edge of the plate beneath the cup. “A detail about each murder that’s been kept from the public is each victim’s heart was missing. I suspect they were taken as a trophy, or as proof of the kill.”
Taya suppressed a shudder at how impassively Eli spoke about the man’s death. No remorse. No obvious compassion. It simply was to him, just another case, another body, another murderer to get off the street. She knew he’d taken on a record amount of cases, but to grow so calloused to it that it became something as casually discussed as the day’s weather was unimaginable to her.
“Or to further prove a point,” Taya added, disgustedly. “It’s a part of certain werewolf lore. Which is where you come in, William. If they’re trying to mimic a werewolf attack—or if it is werewolves doing this,” she added awkwardly, gaining a snort from Eli, “then you’re more qualified to make that call.”

As Agent Archer had snapped at The waitress‘s polite question, William had felt a surge of anger lick at his insides. Werewolves were notorious for having hot tempers, himself included, and the man‘s disrespect towards a woman pressed all of the wrong buttons. Consequently, the anger had his beast stirring, the wolf rising to his eyes in swirls of golden yellow that broke up the blue. But before the color could completely overcome his irises, Taya had run interference, smoothing things over as best she could with Lucy. Jaw tight, William focused on breathing slowly in and out through his nose as he worked to calm himself. By the time The other woman had finally left, it had mostly worked. The gold had faded from his eyes at least. And then the weight of the situation closed in on him again, snuffing out the last of the anger. That was when he had adopted his dark expression and sighed.

The news of yet another victim deepened the look of concern on William‘s face, his eyes turning slowly from Agent Turner to her partner as the latter divulged some of the finer details. As the folder was pushed across the table in his direction, he hesitated for a moment before picking it up with a look of someone who would rather be doing anything else. Running his thumb across the logo stamped on the surface, he finally opened the file.

Anthony Cormack’s information started on the top page, a photograph of the middle-aged man smiling vaguely up at William from above a list of his basic vitals. The werewolf studied the face for a few moments, The receding hairline, The wrinkles just starting to form around the eyes and mouth, before he turn the page over. Written details of the crime scene came next and he quickly skimmed over the information, searching for any clues of involvement of his kind. Unexplained animal tracks, scraps of fur... There didn’t seem too be anything that obvious, but that wasn’t to say that there weren’t other indicators elsewhere. Searching for further details, William turned the page and froze, his stomach involuntarily clenching.

’...Could have done without The crime scene photos until after I ate,’ he thought grimly, teeth clenching harder together unconsciously.

It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with death, he had been through war and actively hunted and eight animals as a wolf, and everyone saw blood and violence on television and in movies these days, it was just a different experience seeing photographs of actual murder. Brutal murder, in the case of Anthony Cormack. Trying not to focus on any of the details, the torn flesh, the exposed organs, William moved on quickly to the next victim.

Next came the summary of a young man, Michael Shilling, Who had been discovered in an empty field near some warehouses on the edge of town. After him was a missing persons account for one Margaret Stone, a woman just entering her senior years by evidence of her silvering hair, last seen a week ago. Scott Marks, a teenager found torn to pieces behind a movie theater followed the summary of the attempts to locate the missing woman, But was quickly overshadowed by the file on Nadia Ortiz, whom they had only been able to identify by the examination of her dental records...

There didn’t seem to be any pattern that William could discover. The ages, races, genders, and even builds widely varied. He tried to think why he, of all people, had been sent to help with this investigation if he wasn’t even able to spot any patterns or clues. Working to keep the scowll off of his face, he flipped to the next file and almost felt like he had been sucker punched in the stomach.

Learning yet another piece of information regarding the missing hearts distracted William from the stab of pain that had suddenly lanced into his heart as he had looked into the face of a woman with soft caramel colored hair, her gentle smile knowing and familiar. Tearing his gaze away from the Dead stranger that looked so much like his wife, hoping his grief wasn’t outwardly visible on his face, he leveled his blue eyes on Eli’s impassive expression. Before he could become too disgusted by the mann‘s lack of feeling, Taya drew his attention with a comment of her own and he willingly looked towards her.

There were stories of werewolves taking hearts? That was a new one to him. Walking away with organs sounded more like the doing of a vampire then a werewolf, something of which humans didn’t know anything about. And William wasn’t going to be the one to reveal their existence. Narrowing his eyes slightly against the thought, he instead used The distraction to push away the remnants of pain still lingering in his chest and readjusted his position so that he could set the open folder onto the table, carefully making sure to flip a few more pages over to Hyde the caramel haired woman‘s face.

“I’m unaware of any such stories,“ he admitted, running his thoughts over everything he had ever learned about werewolves since becoming one. Granted, they were probably a few details even he wasn’t aware of, but he thought he might’ve heard if a wolf liked keeping trophies of human victims. “It might jog my memory if you tell me some of the details of the lore in question, but I might be of better help if I had the opportunity to examine the body myself. Werewolves have a distinctive scent, if this was the work of a werewolf, I’ll be able to smell them.,” he added as The thought occurred to him. His sense of smell was definitely an advantage he had over the human investigators after all.

Taya leaned back slightly in her chair, watching as William reluctantly accepted the file. His reaction to it served as a reminder of his questionable experience. It was curious that the director had agreed to this particular arrangement. After all, according to the files she had read on the supposed werewolf, he wasn’t exactly the most qualified in law enforcement.
Not on paper, at any rate. He'd moved around a lot, shifting from precinct to precinct, his station changing with every couple moves. Only time would tell how much of it was real. If nothing else, someone had certainly gone through a lot of trouble to fabricate a paper trail that fit a lifestyle for an immortal werewolf.
She picked up her glass of Coke and stirred the straw through the ice. Realizing where William was at in Cormack’s section as he went to flip the page, she inhaled and reached slightly toward him to get his attention.
“Oh, you may want to—” But her warning came too late. William had turned the page. Taya swore he turned a bit green at the crime scene photos that stared back at him. “Wait for the next page,” she finished with a sad, apologetic smile, glad that the angle of the folder prevented her from seeing the photos.
She’d already seen the real thing this morning. Even thinking about it now made her stomach churn. The first time she’d seen one of the victims in person, she’d lost her breakfast. Not her proudest moment, but Eli had demonstrated the first signs of actual humanity toward her in the form of silent understanding.
She’d been skipping breakfast ever since.
Even this time, she could barely stand to see the carnage. She’d quickly used the excuse of talking to the deceased’s coworkers who had arrived at the building.
She’d seen pictures of a lot of different crimes at the academy, but nothing could prepare you for the real thing. Especially when the ‘real thing’ meant maliciously savaged. On the upside, she supposed, if she could get through this case, she could get through anything.
If William really was a werewolf, she was surprised he wouldn’t be desensitized to such gore, picture or otherwise. That he wasn’t, however, was almost a relief. She stole a quick glance toward Eli at the thought.
The man took a slow sip of his tea as William looked through the folder. His eternal frown deepened into a scowl, and he stared into the steaming liquid with distaste. Gripping the mug by the rim, he lowered it back to the plate like meat gone bad at market.
Eli placed his elbows on the table and laced his fingers above the cup. His posture imperiously straight, his gaze settled impatiently on William.
Taya, too, refocused on the supposed werewolf. Her head cocked slightly as she caught deeper emotion flash through his eyes, and he turned from one case file quicker than the others.
She tried to steal a glance at the name or at least the placement in the file, making a mental note to figure out what had spooked him, before her comment gained his attention.
Eli snorted at William’s admission. “If you are what you claim, I’m surprised you wouldn’t keep closer tabs on the lore that floats to the surface,” he scoffed.
“It’s a touch more of a modern piece of lore,” Taya interjected quickly, hoping to draw William’s attention away from Archer and diffuse a situation before it could potentially arise. “It’s something that’s been popularized by recent media.”
Eli raised a knowing eyebrow at her.
Taya cleared her throat at the silent accusation that she was well versed in the said media. “According to it, it’s a compulsion that werewolves have. It’s never really specified why, but there are plenty of fan-based theories. Then, there’s another media source that claims that if a werewolf… well… eats the heart of their sire, they would be cured of lycanthropy.”
Eli steepled his pointer and middle fingers. “Thus, I’m sure you can understand why we wouldn’t want that little particular to go public.” His head shifted down in an unspoken warning to William to keep quiet about it. “Hollywood fabrication or not, we don’t need people jumping to the conclusion that someone’s hunting for their sire,” he snorted at the word, “and that those dead were werewolves. There’ve been enough witch hunts as it is,” he finished, his voice a dark, disdainful accusation.
Taya groaned inwardly at his tone, and hastily picked up the conversation.
“As for seeing what’s left of Cormack’s body…” Her voice faltered. “That won’t be a problem. We still have him and a couple of the more recent victims at the morgue.
A sickened, haunted look in her hazel eyes, she met William’s gaze. Her voice was softer than she intended as she continued. “But know that the pictures…” She glanced down toward the file, open, thankfully, to a page of text. “They barely do the damage justice. On any of them. They’ll be cleaned up at the morgue, but I need you to understand what you’re getting into here.”
She met his gaze again, trying to convey the horrors he was getting himself into. Whatever his true age, whether he was a werewolf or a deranged human, he still deserved to have a fair warning.

Of all the agents they could have sent, they just had to send the least personable human William had ever met on the face of the earth. Taya could only run interference for so long, but eventually the tension between he and Agent Archer was going to come to a head. He’d probably end up getting shot at one point, but that would only serve to enrage him all the more. Staring the man down for several seconds, William Took it as a small victory when the other finally looked away. Granted, it had been mostly because of what his partner had said, but he would count the instance as a victory nevertheless.

Eyes turning to Taya, he hoped his expression softened as he intended it to do, William looked introspective for a moment. Resisting the Resurging urge to growl at her partner, he instead directed his response to Agent Turner.

“If such lore has been published, I’m sure there are those higher up than me that are aware of it. But trust me when I say,” a wry smile briefly twisted his lips, “if there was any cure for this curse, every wolf would have been made aware of it. Some struggle more than others, but we all wish it could be otherwise on some level. Regardless,” he continued, briefly looking back towards Eli, “I won’t pass the detail along.”

‘Not to mention that I would be first in line if such a method existed. And then finally, I’d be free to join Cathy and the boys,’ he added silently to himself, his expression briefly growing somber.

Eyes trailing back to the file as The conversation shifted to the visit to the morgue, William caught a hint of the fear scent that Taya unconsciously exuded, though it was muted due to being only from a memory. Still, it had his blue eyes returning to her hazel ones, a stab of sympathy going through him. On impulse, he reached out across the table and took one of Taya’s hands and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I understand. You don’t need to worry on my account,“ he said softly, holding her gaze for several seconds before giving her hand another gentle squeeze and leaning back in his chair. A sad smile touched his lips then. “Our food is on its way, If you still have an appetite after all this.”

And indeed, not mini moments later, Lucy stepped back into the room, a large tray balanced expertly before her. She approached swiftly, apparently making an effort not to infuriate Agent Archer this time, and began dividing the food.

“Here’s that special for you Taya,” she chirped cheerfully, setting a plate down in front of the young woman, “and here’s your double double sir,“ she added with a brief giggle as she set down a pair of plates in front of William.

The smell of hot, fresh, food had William‘s stomach automatically growling in anticipation and it was hard for him to not instantly pick up the nearest cheeseburger and begin eating. He instead made a polite comment about how delicious everything looked when asked, smiling briefly as he collected a few napkins from the dispenser.

“I also brought some extra drinks four y’all so that you won’t need to be interrupted,” she added, the nearest hint of snap in her words as she briefly glanced towards Eli before she gave the other two a beaming smile and started out of the room with a wave. “You no where to find me if you need anything. Enjoy!“

As soon as The door clicked behind Lucy, William‘s gaze flickered to Taya, even as he resettled the file back onto the table from where he had slid it into his lap. After confirming she had taken her first bite, he finally picked up the nearest cheeseburger, the half paper wrapping on it crinkling. He took an experimental bite first, But it was quickly followed up by a second larger mouthful. Taya had been correct in asserting that the food was rather good here. Much better than he had been anticipating.

As he tried a couple of the french fries, William asked one of the questions that had occurred to him while he had been perusing the files. “Other than their hearts missing, are there any other similarities between the injuries? Do they know if they were made by straight edged weapons? Saw tooth? Or does it look more... animalistic?“ Alright, Maybe not the most cheerful of topics to discuss over a meal, but he was sure it would make Agent archer happy, or some equivalent of the emotion, to have him pursuing the matter at hand rather than make small talk. He cast Agent Turner an apologetic glance.

A spark of triumphant relief flicked inside Taya when William looked from Archer. Though it seemed forced at first, his glower lightened as he directed the answers to Archer’s questions at her instead.
From her peripherals, she swore she saw Archer smirk dryly, but it was so slight it could’ve been a trick of the light. Or an irate twitch at the tea.
She blinked down in surprise when William reached for her hand in a reassuring gesture. Was she that obvious?
She offered him a grateful—if not a touch embarrassed—smile at his reassurances. Once he freed her hand, she stirred the ice in her Coke with the straw, but stopped when William continued.
Curious, she looked to the door, wondering if he was using the same trick as before, but she didn’t get the chance to tell. Lucy returned and, with practiced swiftness, placed each of their orders in front of her customers.
“Looks divine, as always, Luce!” Taya complimented as the other woman presented her plate.
Chipotle sauce was drizzled artistically over a wrap cut in half to show its mix of meats, glistening with grease and other juices. A generous heap of fries waited beside it. She eagerly picked up one half of the over-sized wrap and bit into it, glad for the distraction from the current macabre topic.
If Eli caught the sass in Lucy’s tone, he didn’t show it. His attention shifted to the cuff of his suit, and he picked a speck of fuzz from it as Lucy left. With a quiet, impatient sigh, he cupped his hands around the warmth of his mug.
He began tapping the cup, part of his nail clinking lightly against the ceramic as William tucked into his artery-clogging feast.
“You’ve got an impressive appetite, I’ll give you that!” Taya glanced to William’s spread.
She suppressed a sigh as William brought the conversation’s focus back to the murder cases. She returned William’s glance with an easy shrug. That was, after all, why they were there. The opportunity of lunch had been an unexpected bonus.
Archer’s head tilted in a subtle nod. It was as much of a form of approval as anyone ever got out of the man. And a half-step in a better direction. At the very least, Taya hoped it would prevent the next murder victim from being either Archer or William. She doubted The Laughing Cow would appreciate that kind of attention in the news.
“They’ve all been animalistic.” Eli stopped tapping the cup. “Based on the patterns of the wounds, most of the damage appears to be caused by claws and fangs. Forensics have identified some saliva found on the victims as belonging to a canine, but were incapable of narrowing down the breed. As they so eloquently put it,” he added with a sneer, “it appears someone collected drool from various dogs and stirred it into one mixture.” Disgust pulled at Archer’s face at the thought of someone going through the effort of collecting dog drool.
Despite the topic, Taya licked her lips and turned her attention to a packet of mayonnaise at the edge of her plate, trying to hide a grin. The man could walk through a gruesome crime scene without a second thought, but then cringed at something as simple as someone gathering saliva.
She ripped the packet open, and squirted it's contents onto the plate beside the fries. Dipping a fry into the unusual choice of sauce, she munched on it as Archer continued.
“The only other DNA found on the victims have been bits of fur. Again, they’re canine, but we've run into some issues there as well. They’re mostly gray or tan, but they couldn’t be definitively identified. We assume this is due to either human contamination, or abnormal degradation, if not both.”