Werewolf Colony

By Monica Muniz

James Mason has a made a lucrative living selling antiques in his small Southern town. But his customers don't realize where he got most of his inventory; his family had killed werewolf clans in Eastern Europe for years, robbing them of their valuables. 

But now his past has come back to haunt him. There is a werewolf who wants revenge on the man whose family has ruined his own...and he threatens Mason's own wife and daughter...With his Green Beret friend as backup, the two prepare to defend their town from an encroaching horde of werewolves who want to reclaim what is theirs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jul 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201985097

Book preview

WEREWOLF COLONY

MONICA MUNIZ

table of contents

WEREWOLF COLONY

YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM A VAMPIRE

VAMPIRE ROCKERS

TO YOUR GRAVE

SHIT HOLE

TWO KILLERS & A HOOKER

THE SCREAMS OF GHOSTS

It was already shaping up to be a smoldering day, the swamp gases rising to create a hazy fog over the mouths of lazily snapping gators and barking toads, vying to escape the beasts’ massive jaws.

The morning creaks and chirps from the bayou barely registered as James walked across the boardwalk toward his storefront. He sought reprieve from the stifling heat that continued to roll in over the Mississippi and nothing could deter him from the welcome of air conditioning in his shop. He had long since become aware of the noises emanating from the deep, swampy parts of the county and in some small, perverse way, it reminded him of home.

Physically, Louisiana was nothing like Europe, at least not at first glance. Yet as James spent more time there, learning the culture and people, he realized why he had ultimately settled there to marry and start a family. The qualities were elusive but they were there and homely—or at least as close to home as he was going to get. There was never any real possibility of James returning to Hungary. Plaquemine was home now, a fact he had begrudgingly learned to accept over the past decade.

Perhaps it was he old-style buildings that graced the sleepy town, a throwback to the French heritage that had never quite been lost in the state. There had been several reasons James had settled there but anonymity had been the foremost. It had taken him five years of living there before he had trusted a woman enough to date but James was secure with the life he’d found now and he would not have traded it for anything.

His hand slipped into the pocket of his tailored pants and he withdrew the keys to the building, not noticing Lucy Andrews until she was almost upon him although how that was possible, he could not say. Lucy was not easy to miss in any regard.

Good morning, Jamie! she called, waving her hand as though he would have missed her otherwise. Are you open yet?

He tried not to openly shudder at the misuse of his given name. It had been difficult enough giving up his real name when he had moved continents. The last thing he wanted to hear was the likes of Lucy’s high, irritating voice bastardizing it more.

Stupid woman, James thought to himself while mustering a smile. Can’t you see I haven’t even put the key in the lock. Do I look open?

Instead of retorting all the foul thoughts in his mind, James turned his beam upon her and winked charmingly.

For you, Lucy, I’m always open, he told her genially, his faint Eastern European accent barely audible. It had taken years of practice to unlearn the thick, telltale brogue of his ancestors but James knew now that it had all been for naught. His paranoia had been unfounded.

Lucy grinned, her fat, pale face gleaming like a wet moon in the early-morning humidity. It was not an attractive look but James did not much care about her appearance. It was what was in her pocketbook that most excited the storeowner.

Oh thank God! Lucy breathed in dramatic fashion, a hand snaking out to take the door as James allowed himself inside the antique store. I haven’t been able to get those ruby earrings out of my head since I saw them yesterday.

You should have called me on my cell, James chided her gently. I could have easily run them to you last night.

Oh no, darlin’, Lucy tittered, putting a hand playfully on James’ arm. I still had to work on Rocky, if you know what I mean.  

She winked and James suppressed the urge to shudder entirely.

But between you and me, Lucy continued as James moved out of her grasp, I dreamt about them all night long.

Maintaining his fake smile, James nodded understandingly, his manicured fingers flipping on the interior lights as he moved back toward the counter. The fluorescent lighting did little to justify the antiquated treasures that James had sold for years. He had always thought about redoing the lighting but he knew in a town like Plaquemine, he was the only game. There was no other antique stores with which to compete. James never saw the purpose of spending money for no good reason.

Then they’re meant to be on your ears, he concluded wisely, ensuring all his attention was on Lucy. If they’re calling out to you in your sleep.

That’s what I told Rocky, she tittered, her high, girlish voice already grating on James’ nerves. She was obnoxious, overweight, and nosy but she was also the wife of one of the wealthiest men in town, not to mention James’ best customer. His business could not afford to lose the Lucy Andrews of town and so, he endured the halitosis and endless chatter.

And Leigh appreciates the pretty house on Magnolia Lane. It’s a small price to pay to keep the wife happy.

Let me wrap them up for you, James said, opening the display case where he had set aside the expensive jewelry, knowing full well that Lucy was apt to return. The woman could not say no and Rocky overindulged her whims. In the decade that James had been in Plaquemine, he had never seen Lucy refused a thing.

He had almost forgotten that he was with a customer, a silence falling between them as Lucy waddled through the store and he fixed his eyes on the box in front of him. If it had been anyone else, James would not have gone through such an effort to polish the stones and make an appearance. Almost finished, he heard an exclamation of surprise erupt from Lucy’s mouth.

Oh my!

The note of wonderment in Lucy’s voice caused James to look up. For a moment, his heart stopped beating in his chest and his faux grin vanished. He blinked, once, twice and then reacted.

Don’t touch that! he roared, almost hurling his body across the counter to wrench the heavy, silver sword from her hands. Stunned by his uncharacteristic reaction, Lucy stepped back and gasped, a hand to her throat in theatrical practice.

Jamie! she squeaked. What is it?

Why are you touching this?! James howled, unable to contain himself. More shock overtook Lucy’s face and she took another step back as if she worried about her own safety in the presence of such anger.

W-what? she choked. I-it was sitting right there.

He caught the look of wariness on Lucy’s face and immediately composed himself. 

Take it easy, you fool! Of course she doesn’t know what this is. Calm down!

Instantly, James took hold of his senses.

Of course, he laughed shakily, withdrawing behind the counter with the weapon. You just scared me. I’m sorry I yelled.

Scared you? Lucy echoed skeptically, cocking her dyed, blonde head to the side to peer at James suspiciously. Her two chins intermeshed with the gesture. I wouldn’t have thought a man like you could be scared, Jamie.

The flirty note of her words made James’ skin crawl but he again managed to find his beam as he met her eyes.

I was worried you might hurt yourself, he explained. That shouldn’t have been out for people to touch. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted so harshly.

Oh. Lucy seemed satisfied with the response as she waddled through the closely packed shop and stood before him. She offered him a conciliatory smile. That’s quite a piece.

Yes, James replied, purposely turning his back away and laying the sword on the counter behind him.

Is it Russian steel?

Hungarian silver, he replied without thinking. Inwardly, he cringed, clenching his jaw but he ensured that Lucy didn’t catch his reaction. The mere fact that the sword was sitting so close brought back a rash of memories he could have done without.

Interesting. How much is it? Lucy pressed. James jutted his chin toward her, gooseflesh erupting over his arms.

It’s not for sale, he explained.

Oh come now, darlin! Lucy tittered. Everything’s for sale if you offer enough money.

Not this.

Lucy pouted.

Why not? she insisted, her nearness sending James’ blood rushing dangerously through his veins.

Take a hint, woman! He wanted to scream at her but somehow he did not.

It’s a family heirloom, James replied honestly. And It shouldn’t have even been up here. I had in storage...

He trailed off, not wanting Lucy or anyone else to know where he kept his cache of antiques for sale. There were some character traits that he couldn’t leave back in the Old World and deep-rooted suspicion was one of them.

Oh. Lucy whined and James suddenly knew that he had a problem. When Lucy Andrews set her sights on something, she was not apt to give up easily. Are you sure? I don’t need to tell you that Rocky has deep pockets.

Yes. I am sure.

This time, James didn’t mind that his voice was hard. He wanted to ensure that Lucy did not enlist her boisterous husband and try to strongarm him into a sale.

Not that it would matter. I’m not up the Slayer for anything. They would have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

For a long moment, James’ green eyes clashed with Lucy’s but in the end, she seemed to sense that he was not budging.

Are you getting my earrings? she grumbled, folding her arms over her enormous bosom.

Of course.

James again busied himself with the sale but the sound of the bell at the front door stole his attention once more.

Sean stood at the threshold, dressed in camouflage, looking like the resident nutcase that he was. His faded gray t-shirt had stains on it, at least three days old and he stared blankly at his friend, his stubbly chin twitching.

Lucy’s neck stiffened at the sight of him. She looked toward James to see if he would ask the vet to remove himself and when the storekeeper did not, she decided to move herself.

Why don’t you just send those along to my house when you’re done wrapping them, Lucy muttered, wrinkling her nose at the rancid smell of the newcomer. I’ll settle up with you online.

All right, James agreed, watching as Lucy doddered through the tight space between Sean and the door. James breathed a sigh of relief to watch her go but now he had a new problem.

Good morning, Sergeant, James said with forced cheer. What brings you here today?

Wide-eyed but unspeaking, Sean strode inside the store, a bead of sweat forming along his hairline. It took everything in James’ power not to gag at the smell of him.

When was the last time he had a shower? I can’t even smell the day-old scotch on him through his stench.

Suddenly, Sean splayed his hands over the counter, leaning in to gawk at James with bewildered blue eyes.

They’re here. I can smell them.

A tremor of dread shot through James but he instantly dismissed it, knowing that Sean had a lot of issues, stemming from his time as a Green Beret.

Who’s here? James asked with a sighed, also meeting Sean’s eyes evenly. He raised an eyebrow purposefully. And have you been taking your meds?

Sean scowled.

Don’t patronize me, he barked. I’m a sergeant in the US Special Forces! I’m a—

I’m not patronizing you, James interjected quickly, holding up a hand to silence him. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.

I told you! Sean exploded. They’re here! They’re here, I can smell them!

James didn’t respond immediately, his jaw twitching slightly as he tried to imagine the probability of Sean’s assessment. Before James could think of a placating response, Sean’s eyes popped wider. He backed away and pointed at the sword.

You know they’re here too! he choked, complexion waning. That’s why you have that out!

No! James shook his head. No, of course not. I brought this out to clean. That’s all.

Sean eyed him suspiciously.

We’re supposed to be on the same team, you and me, he growled. No one else in this town knows what we’ve seen, about them.

We are on the same team, James assured him quickly. I just think that...

What?

I mean, it’s been years since we’ve seen on, Sean. You haven’t laid eyes on a Lycan since you were stationed in Europe and I certainly haven’t caught wind of one here.

Sean scoffed.

They weren’t going to stay in one place for long, he muttered, beginning to pace around the small store, his cheeks twittering like a nervous squirrel. I knew they would come. They’re coming. You’ll see.

Sean didn’t give James an opportunity to respond and instead spun to run from the shop, as though he was being chased.

For a long, silent moment, James could only watch, the relief he should have felt at being left alone overshadowed by the sincerity of Sean’s declaration weighing heavily on him. For Sean, the PTSD he had suffered fueled his fear of the creatures that inhabited Eastern Europe. His recollection of their existence was skewed quite a bit from the reality. The truth was Sean had nothing to fear from an influx of werewolves traveling overseas. For his part, James was certain that they already lived, under the radar and hidden from most humans. It was another reason that James had the swamp to sell his wares. The chances of any refined werewolves finding him there were slim to none.

Of course, his situation was very different than Sean, contrary to what the former soldier might think.

Sighing, James resumed his activities, one eye on the door as he waited for customers to arrive.

But first, he thought, turning back to the sword. I have to put you somewhere safe.

~ ~ ~

A baby wailed and a little girl tugged on her mother’s skirt.

Move it! Branson hissed, poking at the woman with the edge of his bayonet. She screamed out, the silver burning into her flesh. Into the truck!

Please! the woman sobbed, her fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Leave the kids. They haven’t done anything!

SILENCE! Branson howled in Hungarian, raising the butt of his gun to knock her on the side of the head.

STOP! One of the male wolves jumped to his packmate’s aid but as he moved a spray of silver bullets pumped into his body and he was dead before he could hit the floor. The baby in the woman’s arms fell harmlessly into a pile of leaves and James eyed Branson warily, a pang of guilt shooting through him.

Maybe she’s right, Papa, James mumbled, wanting to pick up the forsaken child. Branson’s face twisted into a characteristic sneer of fury.

She’s right? We should leave these creatures to grow up and come back seeking their revenge? Where is your head, boy? Get the little shit and throw him on the truck with the rest of them.

James dared not ask his father where he was taking the wolves. Instead, he did as he was asked and gingerly picked up the howling infant. The