A Tangle With Werewolves

By Reese Currie

Creighton Zee is a man who has been disenfranchised by the injustice in his world. Tired of his life as an office worker, he becomes a sort of private investigator and revenge broker.

After accidentally discovering the existence of the paranormal, Zee himself is discovered by "Jack", a shadowy government official whose job is to keep the reality of the paranormal from the average Canadian citizen.

In this first episode of the series, Zee takes a case in an unnamed village in British Columbia where there have been suspected werewolf attacks. It is his job to end the threat, without tipping off John Q. Public that such a thing as a werewolf has ever existed outside of folklore.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reese Currie
• Release date: Dec 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301508600

Reese Currie

Reese Currie has had the creative writing bug in his soul from a very young age. Now in his middle age, he is finally releasing the floodgates on his passions, including his passion for fiction writing.

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A Tangle with Werewolves

By Reese Currie

Copyright 2012 by Reese Currie

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter One

My name is Creighton Zee, and my job is one of my own making. Today's job was to be one of heavy handed diplomacy. Very heavy handed.

I knocked on the door, and when the subject opened it, I said, Mr. Devereaux, we need to talk.

Do I know you? he asked.

No, but I know you, and I know Lynne.

He started to slam the door in my face. I sprung forward with all my force into the door, knocking it open and knocking him sprawling. He started to get up and I simply kicked him in the face. He was down for the count. I nudged his head with my toe to make sure his airways were clear, shut the door behind me, pulled a chair over and sat down. I drew my revolver and held it in my gloved hand, pointed in a safe direction. I'm in early middle age and I really didn't feel like fighting with some young guy. The revolver was a Ruger GP100 .357 magnum, loaded with .38 Specials I hoped not to have to use. If I did have to use it, I wouldn't have to worry about leaving shell casings in this man's home.

He started to stir. He looked up at me, and I showed him the gun. I'm not really interested in any more fighting, Jake, I said. I've got a message for you from Lynne, about how you've been stalking her and how it's going to end right now.

That lying bitch, Jake Devereaux said.

I shook my head. I checked out her story, Jake. I don't just believe people who come in my door looking for help. She was able to prove to me that you have indeed been stalking her. The police weren't willing to help her, so here I am.

When my lawyer hears about this— Devereaux began.

Your lawyer? I snickered. You don't have a lawyer, Jake.

How would you know? he spat.

I'd know because I know all of your financial transactions for the last nine months, and you don't have any legal bills at all.

You looked at my bank records? he asked, incredulous.

You looked at Lynne's, so I figured that was fair ball, I said. You've also been tracking her through GPS on her cell phone—I turned that off, by the way. You've had your friends drive by her friends houses looking for her. You've called her cell and left threatening messages. You're kind of being a twit, Jake. And now you've gotten yourself out of your league.

He frowned. I could take you if you didn't have that gun, he said.

You might be able to at that, I replied, but I do have a gun, Jake, and I wouldn't lose any sleep over using it on you if I had to. That's why you're out of your league.

He looked poised to try it.

If you want to get shot, that's okay, I said. Lynne didn't pay me enough to shoot you, but because you're such a nice guy, I might just give her a freebie.

You'd get caught, he said. They'd trace your gun.

I glanced at the revolver. I liked it, but it was far from irreplaceable. This is only a six hundred dollar gun, I said. You think I'm going to let myself get caught for six hundred bucks? I don't think so. I'd just leave it with you. Do you see that you're kind of caught here? Let's stop being hostile and be reasonable.

He relaxed his body a little, and I lowered the gun back into my lap.

Okay, I said. Now, it's no fun being stalked, Jake. You're a handsome guy. You can get another girlfriend easily. Why are you giving Lynne so much grief?

I hate her, he said thickly.

I've been divorced, I said. I won't get into details, but she and the unjust family court system in this country have given me way more reasons to hate her than you've ever had to hate anybody, but these days, I just don't care. She doesn't occupy my thoughts much at all; she's just a bad memory. Every time I ever had to deal with her, it was an unpleasant experience for me, so why would I dwell on her? Now if I was being an idiot, and stalking her, and giving her all of my attention, I'm sure I'd be miserable all the time, like you are.

The things she did to me— he began.

Are immaterial, I finished for him. And best left in the past. Jake, you got out of this easy. She hasn't come after your home, here, she hasn't come after money at all, and you guys lived together for two years. She could potentially get half of everything, or even more than half. You guys were common-law; that's probably enough to get you into the dragon's den that is the Canadian family court system. They'd take everything you have but the dick they hate you for, and give it to her. I guess my problem is, Jake, she hasn't been threatening you in any way, not even the ways that are legally available to her, and here you are threatening her, and it has to stop, and it has to stop now.

He sat and fumed.

Jake, I'll tell you what. When I asked her if she wanted me to kill you, she looked all shocked and said no. It would have ended all of her problems in an instant. She said you didn't deserve that. She just wants you to stop. I didn't tell him that if Lynne had wanted me to kill Jake, I wouldn't have helped her.

So you can't kill me, he said.

Oh, no, that's not the case at all, I answered. No, if you don't leave her alone, this becomes a matter of protecting my reputation. See, I have a reputation for making people do what I say. If you mess up that reputation, I'm going to come back here and mess you up.

Mess me up, he repeated.

In a serious way, Jake, I added. In a picking up bits way. This is a .357 magnum, Jake. I don't mess around. In fact it was evenly loaded with .38 specials and .357 magnums on this particular mission, so that my first shot would be a .38, my second would be a .357 magnum, the third would be a .38, and so on. The .38 is to make a person stop what they're doing. If they don't stop what they're doing, the follow-up .357 is to stop them permanently.

He sat, and I sat.

I'm sensing you don't believe me, Jake, I said. When people don't believe me, sometimes I blow off a kneecap or a testicle to prove that I mean what I say. Do I have to do that in this case?

No, he said quickly.

So here's the deal, and your life is on the line if you break it. Not one more phone call. Not one more drive-by. Not one more peek into her bank accounts, social networking, anything. No contact with her, no spying on her, no involvement of any kind with her ever again.

I could call her and apologize, he said.

If you do, I will come here and kill you, I said. Not one more call, Jake. Deal?

He said nothing.

Deal? I repeated.

What if I say no? he pouted.

Then I kill you right now, I replied. She doesn't want me to, but I'm just not a man to trifle with, Jake.

He sat. I felt a nibble of frustration but put it aside. He was an ignorant young boy who didn't know anything about anything, who thought he was a big fish in the world. In reality he was an arrogant little nothing, that nobody would miss if he didn't make it through this negotiation.

Going once. Going twice, I said, raising the gun.

Deal! he shouted.

I covered him and got out of my chair. I'm walking out of here now, Jake, and this little conversation we had never happened. If I get a sniff that you've welshed on our deal, you die. If there is any retaliation of any kind, you die. If I hear anyone hurts her, I'm going to assume it was orchestrated by you, and you die.

And if I report all of this to the cops? he said.

Guess.

I die.

Bingo. You're a smart boy.

He sighed. I just wanted to get her back.

I'm not sure in what sense you mean that, Jake, whether you mean revenge or a rekindled romance, but it's never going to happen either way. If you take revenge, I will take revenge. And romance? You killed any chance of that yourself the first moment you started stalking her. Give it up. Move on. Live your life and be happy. Leave her alone and you have nothing to fear from me at all.

What if she calls you and said I stalked her again, but I didn't?

Now that was a question that indicated to me that he was thinking the right way now. I know from personal experience that some women can be quite vindictive and will make false reports. I will have to know for sure that you could have done it. She doesn't strike me as the kind of girl who would make a false report, but I would make sure there was a reasonable possibility of truth before I'd come get you.

A reasonable possibility of truth? he asked.

Not enough to get you convicted in court, but enough to demonstrate to me that it happened. That's the deal, Jake. If you wanted better terms than that, you shouldn't have stalked her in the first place.

I opened the door, and left some parting advice. I'd recommend that you live in a different province from her. She's already moved, so you don't have to do a thing to change that. Stay out of her province, and her city, and you'll be fine, unless you call her or send someone else. If an associate of yours does something to her, I'll know it was you.

I produced a card out of my left pocket. "If you must go into her province, call this number and leave a message saying why, when you'll be there, and how long you'll be. That's an answering service. They don't know who they work for, they just have a code name. Don't lose that number. I check up on things occasionally and if I see you have credit card charges from that province, and something happens to her, I will assume it was you and take action. If I have a call from you, I'll investigate first.

We're done here, if you don't have any more questions, I said. He shook his head. I closed the door quietly and heard it latch, holstered the gun, and walked toward the car, my ears keenly listening for any sounds behind me. When there were none, I got in the car and drove away. Hopefully Jake Devereaux would leave Lynne Pritchard alone now. If not, my next visit to him would not entail any conversation.

Chapter Two

The town official sat nervously on his seat, toying with his hat in his hand, his eyes somehow watery behind his small lenses, his mouth drawn almost to a pucker under a sparse moustache. He was waiting for the word to register with me. I saw that he wouldn't continue to speak of his problem unless I gave him some prompting.

Werewolves, I said.

You don't believe me, do you? he said. That's what I told them, that you'd never believe a story like this.

I'm aware of their existence, I replied calmly. I suspect that they're real; though very rare in this day and age. I've never heard of them in British Columbia, but then, I'm from the east coast, obviously. I raised my hands to indicate the restaurant that we were sitting in, which was on the east coast.

You flew all this way to tell me you have a problem with werewolves, I added, hoping to get him talking again. How do you know?

He swallowed hard. A missing child has turned up, gnawed by an animal.

Could have been regular wolves, or coyotes, I pointed out.

The mother who reported the missing child claimed to have seen the abduction, he answered. She described a werewolf. He sighed deeply before continuing. The police figured her boyfriend of the week had probably killed the boy, and she was covering up with an insane story, and that the child would show up eventually, assuming he was too lazy to bury him. They did conduct a search, and they found him after a couple of days. He was partially eaten with wounds similar to unusual wounds we've been seeing in livestock in the area.

I thought about that for a moment. How did you prevent Mom from making a stink? I asked.

Apparently, the police told her that if she went around talking about werewolves, she would be demonstrating diminished capacity and could have her other children taken by child services.

The old fashioned way, I said, closing my eyes and resting my head on the high back of my chair. I silently reminded myself that the reason I work for municipalities on occasion is it protects their people, and someone has to pay for me to be able to do that. I had yet to meet many politicians I liked at any level, municipal, provincial, or federal, but there were a few who had learned to listen and not immediately jump to coercion to silence any potential embarrassment. Very few. Hazards of a democratic system, I suppose. Those who ran for office either had to be very dedicated to public service, or very dedicated to getting their hands in the till. No one else applied.

Tell me about the livestock, I requested.

What is there to tell? he asked.

Were there many dead animals that weren't eaten?

I honestly don't know, he replied. I didn't really concern myself until the child.

So, who polices your town? Is it the RCMP, or municipal police?

It's a small village and some surrounding farmland, protected by the RCMP. In fact, someone in the RCMP gave your name to our local office when the topic of werewolves came up.

I knew my name must have been passed along by Jack, whose last name I did not know. I doubted that even Jack was his real name. He would not have passed my name along directly; the word had probably gone up the chain of command in the RCMP, to whatever government organization Jack worked for, and back down again. Jack called in favours from time to time for overlooking some of my other activities. If Jack was involved, my answer already had to be yes; the only no that would prevent my involvement would have to come from the town council.

There are those in the government that value my discretion, I commented. How does the RCMP want to handle it? Do they want to be involved directly, or stay out of it, or be a resource?

They can't officially admit that there is such a thing as werewolves, the town official replied, his face reddening somewhat.

Of course not. My question is whether they will be cooperative, and what involvement they want to have.

I'll have to check on that, the official admitted.

I'm not coming to fight werewolves without my own guns, I replied. I need to know how reliable they are, how they've been maintained, how they operate, how accurate they are, where to hold them to hit targets with accuracy. The RCMP can be uptight about guns, so I want their permission to bring mine, signed by whoever is in charge of the RCMP where you are.

All right, replied the official.

"Truth be