Eugene took a couple of deep breaths, then prayed Shorty had meant what he’d said and could at least follow his own instructions.

  “Okay, Eugene, turn around. Let’s take a look at you,” Constantine told him. Eugene did a slow turn and everyone admired him. “Perfect.”

  “You got your guns?” Bob asked Eugene. He opened his jacket to reveal two 9mms inside a custom-made holster that blended with his suit. With a nod, Bob continued. “Now you are ready. You have enough tranquilizers to take out three of them easily. When things go wild, you two get in the car and get out. Got it?”

  Both Eugene and Shorty nodded in agreement.

  “Time to go. I’ll be your eyes in the sky from the Command Center. Give those fools hell,” Constantine told the group and took off.

  “We will be in position by the time you get there,” Bob told them.

  “Bob, wait. Where are Second and Fourth?” Eugene asked, expecting to find his peers before he left.

  “They are already in place,” Bob told him.

  “What? Why? They are not fighters,” Eugene replied a little louder than he expected.

  “No, they are not, but they are part of this team,” Bob told Eugene. “They refused to stay behind knowing you were on the front line risking everything. Now, we got to go,” Bob told him and rushed to his truck.

  Eugene’s lip quivered as emotions hit him straight in the feels. He hadn’t expected all these people to put everything on the line for him, but they had and he couldn’t have been more grateful.

  “Hey, Eugene. The suit and shoes are not just fabulous, they are also super practical,” Bartholomew whispered. “Shoes have silver plating in them, and the suit is the same material as Isis’s uniform. It will take a bullet and even spells,” he said with a wink. “Must hurry before Bob leaves me.” He waved as he ran towards Bob’s truck.

  “Bart, you are the best,” Eugene shouted at Bartholomew.

  “I know,” Bartholomew replied with a smirk.

  “Are you ready to make those punk pay?” Shorty asked Eugene.

  “It will be my pleasure,” Eugene replied and they both climbed in the DeathMobile.

  Shorty drove unusually slow to the park. Eugene was glad that Shorty had some boundaries. Death’s vehicle was the one line Shorty was not willing to cross. Eugene thanked God for that. He didn’t want Death to rip his soul apart for damaging his car.

  Wake Village’s baseball park was not that far from Reapers. They were at the location in less than eight minutes. Eugene was expecting to be nervous, but instead a strange calmness settled over him. Maybe it was the calm before the storm. He didn’t care. He was focused and ready for battle.

  Shorty pulled into the parking lot of the park to find several trucks and cars already there. Fortunately, the city wasn’t having any games, or this little meeting would turn into a massacre.

  Shorty parked as far away from all the other vehicles. “Here comes Big Bob,” he told Eugene.

  “It’s show time,” Eugene told Shorty. “Whatever happens, it’s been an honor working with you, Shorty. Thank you.”

  “E, please. This is not our funeral, so no need for speeches,” Shorty told Eugene. “Save the pretty words for our furry friends over there.” He pointed to the pitcher’s mound where four werewolves stood.

  “Let’s go,” Eugene told Shorty.

  The men stepped out of the car looking as smooth as Bond. Eugene strolled towards the pitcher’s mound with Shorty acting as his body guard. Eugene had to admit, they looked really good. They reached the mound and faced off with their enemies. There were three huge males and the angry female.

  “Impressive. You clean up well, little one,” the female told Eugene.

  His cheeks heated. He hated to admit it, even in his own head, but the female was stunning. “Business attire, what can I say?” Eugene said in a calm tone. “Let’s not waste any time. Where is my colleague?”

  “What? No small talk?” the female asked. “Aren’t you going to tell me how we are going to regret this?”

  “It seems you already know, so no need to restate it,” Eugene answered with a smile.

  “Oh please, you really don’t think the Horsemen will come to your aid. You are alone, little boy, and we are running this show,” the female told Eugene.

  “You and three linebackers are running things? Somehow, I highly doubt that,” Eugene told her. “Tell me, little girl, who is the leader of this pack. I don’t want to waste my time talking to underlings.” He played with his watch for extra emphasis.

  “Underling? You will pay for that. I run this pack,” the female told him.

  He responded with a raised eyebrow. Then, he kept his expression as bored as possible as he said, “Good for you. Who did you have to kill to get the job? I doubt your pack believes in equal opportunity programs.”

  “My brother,” the female answered. “That should tell you something. If I’m willing to kill my own family, getting rid of you won’t be an issue.” Hatred glimmered from her eyes as she stared at Eugene.

  “We weren’t expecting loyalty among your group,” Eugene told her, trying to add as much anger to his voice. He was trying to get her mad to reveal the rest of her pack. “Should we get this started, little Loba, or do you need to wait for the full moon.” Luckily, there wouldn’t be a full moon. He’d checked earlier. The last thing he needed was extra help for the other side when they already had a huge advantage.

  “You talk a big game, but you will still pay our price.” The female smiled and let out a high-pitched whistle to her pack.

  From the visitor’s side, two huge men dragged a hooded figured to the field. The man was dressed identical to Fourth, which meant one thing: they were never planning to release Fourth. Not when they already had someone ready for the switch.

  The two giants stopped next to their leader, dropping the fake Fourth in the middle.

  “Take the hood off. I want to verify he is not hurt,” Eugene told the pack.

  “Not until we get our loot,” the leader told him. “I’m not taking any chances. For all we know, you’re passing secret messages with your group and setting us up.” She eyed Eugene.

  “Shorty, call for the packages,” Eugene told Shorty.

  Shorty pulled out his phone and made a quick call. Constantine had warned everyone about werewolves hearing, so Shorty didn’t even bother whispering. Bob and the Triplets climbed out of the truck and walked to the bed of the vehicle. Bob had two large wooden boxes in the back. Bob and one of the Triplets grabbed one of the boxes, the other two Triplets carried the second. They moved quickly around the field and stood next to Eugene and Shorty.

  “Packages,” Eugene said, pointing to the really large boxes. “Now my colleague.” He pointed at the fake Fourth.

  “Not so fast,” the leader said. “I hope you don’t get offended that I don’t trust you, but let me see the goods. Open the boxes.” She waited patiently for the guys.

  Bob looked at Eugene.

  “Go ahead,” Eugene said like a true boss. He was having a blast playing the part, but the game was about to come to end.

  Bob popped the lid to the first box. The Interns had delivered. The top of the container was powerful heroine cut with cocaine and rat poising.

  “Hope you don’t mind if we test it?” the leader asked.

  “You don’t get near my stash until I get my colleague,” Eugene told her.

  “In that case, at least let us check the other box. Open the lid,” she demanded.

  Eugene was starting to hate her more and more. “If you wish. This is my present to you, with love,” Eugene said in a condescending voice, then he walked with a swagger to the other box and opened it.

  Eugene didn’t bother to look at Bob because he knew this part of the drill well. He stood to the side and popped the lid. Unfortunately for the little werewolves, instead of another trunk full of drugs, it was only carrying a fully loaded Bartholomew. Bartholomew opened fire on the werewolves as soon as the lid allowed him. Second had made a new compound to diminish the speed and strength of the werewolves.

  “You are going to die,” screamed the leader as she was covered with Bartholomew’s compound. “Kill them,” she ordered her packed.

  The linebackers next to her started shifting. The transformation was slow and even painful to watch. Whatever compound Fourth made had added an extra bonus. As soon as the werewolves shifted to their wolf form, all the fur fell off them.

  “Oh damn,” Eugene told Bartholomew as they watched the full transformation. “I don’t think that was supposed to happen.”

  Horror filled Bartholomew’s features as he took in the wolves as they twisted in pain right in front of them.

  “No!” the leader screamed, watching her bald wolves. “Now!” She howled to the rest of her pack.

  Eugene had no idea where they came from, but over forty werewolves surrounded them. Some were in men form, others in their wolf form, and a couple were still in between. Those were extremely scary because they had human legs with the upper body of a wolf. Not a good look at all.

  “Our turn now!” Bob gave the order and all hell broke loose.

  Over eighty men and women came charging up the field. From the rooftops, the snipers were taking out any wolf that got too close to Eugene. Bartholomew had jumped out of his box and was shooting at every wolf he found. Within seconds, hair littered the field. Eugene took out his guns and fired at everything. No way would he take any chances. Unfortunately, he was so distracted by the two wolves on his left that he missed the leader sneaking up on his right.

  “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” she told Eugene, grabbing him by the neck.

  Eugene struggled to get out of her grasp, but all he managed to do was turn himself around and face her. She wasn’t shifting to her wolf self, probably to avoid the same fate as her people. She still had super strength, and sharp claws that dug into him.

  “You have sentenced your colleague and yourself to death,” the leader told Eugene, showing him the most pointed canines he had ever seen.

  “Sorry, little lady, not today,” Eugene told her and landed the best punch ever.

  The leader doubled down in pain, staring at Eugene with shock. With a smile, Eugene showed her his hand, exposing the silver knuckles Bartholomew had given him. And he’d nailed the punch. It made him so happy he wanted to dance. He didn’t have time to celebrate, though. Another wolf instantly charged at him. Without thinking too much, Eugene turned around and landed a kick to the wolf man’s groin. It sounded like something broke, and Eugene prayed it hadn’t been his testicles. No man deserved that fate.

  “Oh. God,” the werewolf mumbled, cupping himself as he collapsed to the ground.

  “My bad,” Eugene said. He hadn’t walked into this with the intention of killing anyone, or destroying their manhood, but if it happened, not much he could do. Instead of inspecting the damage, Eugene rushed over to help the rest of the team.

  Constantine’s drone hovered over them, but since everyone was on top of each other, he couldn’t get a clear shot.

  Shorty was helping the Triplets tackle one large wolf. It took six men and women to take him down. Second and Fourth joined the fight and were spraying the wolves with a sleep formula. The wolves were so strong, it was taking multiple shots for the formula to take them out.

  Screams were heard all over the park, but no sense in worrying about that because Shorty had people to make sure no civilians came in. It also ensured none of the wolves escaped, so two birds with one stone kind of deal.

  Platoons worked together on the large wolves. They used everything they had available to them, from rifles and clubs, to baseball bats and sticks. A couple of the team members were taken down by a wolf, their arms and legs broken in the process. Bob had created a true army. When one of their team went down, four people jumped in to save him. Men were rushed off the field for medical treatment and more came in to back them up. Nets were thrown from trees and traps in the ground were activated. Werewolves were pushed in every direction, separating them from their pack. The wolves were dominated.

  The fighting did not take long—maybe twenty minutes. The Reaper team had taken control of the situation and Bob’s plan had been executed well.

  It helped that the wolves had underestimated them. Eugene had noticed some staggering and unable to shift properly. They had been drunk. But it didn’t matter because it only helped the team. Every small victory was a big one in his book. When the last wolf fell, he was hit with more sleeping compound.

  “Last one secured, Big Bob,” one of the Triplets announced.

  “Great job everyone.” Bob said.

  “What do we do with them now?” Bartholomew asked.

  “We will take care of that,” Fourth told him. “We need help taking them back to our lab.”

  “What are we going to do with them?” Eugene asked.

  “We can’t have a group of wild shifters attacking people and disrespecting the Horsemen,” Second told him. “You know the restricted level?” Eugene shook his head. He didn’t have access to the seventh level, but he’d always wanted to know what they did there. “That’s where we take our more serious experiments. Some brainwashing will be in order.” Second smiled wickedly.

  “Remind me not to piss you guys off,” Bob told Eugene.

  “Me too,” Eugene told him. “I don’t know what that level is, but it sounds scary.” He didn’t like the idea of brainwashing anyone, but he also didn’t like the idea of letting the wolves go wild either, so it was definitely the better option.

  “So, how do we move forty people to Hope?” Fourth asked as his gaze roamed over the comatose werewolves.

  “It might take several trips, but we can do it,” Bob told them. “We will need one of you guys on the trucks to make sure none of them wakes up while in transit. Let’s get started.”

  It was going to be a long night.

  Eugene was amazed how long it took them to transport all the werewolves to the lab. Even with Shorty driving one of the vehicles, it took the team six trips back and forth. That was the easy part. Once all the werewolves were in the lab, moving them to the sub levels took even longer. All the werewolves had to be secured in stretchers. Their clothes had to be changed. IVs had to be connected, and only then could the new patients be moved to a secure chamber.

  The werewolves were left under the care of Ninth. Eugene had always wondered what their senior Intern did all day. After watching him in the strange lab/hospital area, he didn’t want to know. He was sure this was a scene straight out of the X-Files. Seventh had told him they’d have to make some memory modifications, then they would apply behavior enhancements, but Eugene refused to ask any questions. He didn’t want to know, and he hoped by the time he reached this level of access, what was done there would no longer be a requirement.

  Unfortunately, it was ten in the morning by the time Eugene made it back to Reapers with the team. Second and Fourth had stayed at the lab to clean up and rest. Fifth had informed everyone that due to all their shenanigans during the week, they were behind with their drug making for the Fourth of July party. Eugene was supposed to return for the company car and get back to work ASAP.

  He didn’t argue. He knew he hadn’t been pulling his weight all week and that the Mistress wanted an awesome event. Seventh interceded on Eugene’s behalf and told Fifth all the party favors were done. Eugene had no idea how the old man did it, but they were actually ahead of schedule in production.

  With Eighth and Ninth busy with their new guests, Seventh was the senior member on staff. His word was the law, and he gave all the Interns the day off. Fifth was appalled until he realized that meant him as well. He took off running to binge on the BBCs Sherlock Holmes series. Fifth was addicted to Netflix. Eugene was given leave to swing by Reapers, pick up the hearse, and return to work in the morning.

  As he was heading out, Seventh told him how proud of him he was, which put Eugene on cloud nine. It was probably the reason he was still smiling as he crashed on the leather couch at Reapers. It was a good day. Nobody had died. Very few people were seriously hurt. The werewolves were contained. To make the day even better, he didn’t have to go to the club for the party.

  Eugene couldn’t be happier

  “Has anybody seen Shorty?” Bartholomew asked the group.

  Most of the people in the room looked dead. They were barely moving. Bartholomew sat at his computer, resting his head on the desk. Bob had curled up on one of the dining room chairs. In fact, the only one awake was Constantine, and he was wiping his face with his paws on top of the kitchen island.

  “He is moonlighting for Seventh,” Eugene told Bartholomew.

  “Doing what?” Bartholomew asked, his forehead scrunched.

  “He is our new transporter,” Eugene told him. “Well, him and the Triplets. After Seventh saw them, he decided they were a much more intimidating group of people than any of us put together.”

  “That is actually a really good idea,” Constantine told him. “It would be a sad day in hell for anyone who messes with that group.” He had moved to clean his legs when the door flew open.

  “I did it!” Isis came in the room cheering at the top of her lungs.

  “It’s about time you get back,” Constantine said in greeting.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be back Friday?” Bob asked as he raised his head from the table.

  “I was able to convince my little stubborn ghost to leave,” Isis told everyone, smiling from ear to ear.

  “You got him to move on to his next life?” Constantine asked, raising an eyebrow at her in that strange way the wrestler “The Rock” used to do.

  “I wish,” Isis replied, and Constantine frowned. “Relax. Let me explain. It seems my new favorite soul lived a horrible life and he wanted to make atonement now. He wants to warn the living of the consequences for their sins. Regardless, I convinced him to move to the bed and breakfast and leave the little house alone. That way he would have a better crowd.” She chuckled.

 

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