Excerpt: Hypocrisy

He held the rifle tightly, knuckles white from the tension in his hands. He wasn't shaking, he wasn't quivering; he was too far gone for any of that. But if one looked closer, his chin was quivering slightly and his quiet breaths were hitched and shallow.

"Dath?"

He looked up at his uncle's voice calling him. "Yeah?" The word didn't come out sounding right through his constricted throat.

"It's time. Come on."

"Right." Dathan nodded and stood up, forcing his legs to not shake. He had to run to keep up with his uncle's longer stride, and it was a good thing he had learned to make his feet fall softly on the ground, otherwise he was sure he would have gotten a good shaking for making too much noise.

They caught up with his father, who held up a fist for them to stop immediately when he saw them. Dathan's uncle held out an unnecessary arm to catch him if he overstepped. His father gestured for Dathan to come to him.

So he went, bringing his ear to his father's mouth. Even so close, he had to concentrate immensely to hear what his father was saying.

"Dath, he's going to walk by in a few minutes." He gestured at the opening in the the bushes where one could stick a rifle through. "Try and make it a head shot." Dathan swallowed forcefully through the rock in his throat and nodded. His father clapped a hand to his shoulder. "This is all you, Dath. I know you can do it." Hearing the words was comforting, if only a little.

He leaned in, seeing the space clearly through the bushes. Slowly, he brought his rifle to his face, aiming for head level. Kill the fear, he told himself. He'd never make a head shot if his hands were shaking.

It was a lifetime before Dathan saw movement; the instant he saw the outline, he froze. No! he screamed at himself. Don't freeze! Be ready! The shadowy figure came forward, moving agonising inches at a time.

Clear shot, Dathan chanted. Clear shot, clear shot, clear shot... He raised the rifle slightly, getting ready for the shot. He lined up with the target's head. Just a little closer... And then the moment came. His head moved right into Dathan's range. His finger put gentle pressure on the trigger, making sure that the man wasn't going to bolt.

Now...

Even silenced, the sound of the gunshot was overpowering. It took a split second for Dathan to realize that he'd missed, and hit the target's shoulder instead. The man took off running before the shock of a bullet hitting him could even sink in. Dathan didn't dwell on how he had missed, instead tearing after the man instantly. He dropped his rifle and reached for his handgun clipped to his side, already fully loaded.

The man trying to make his escape was clearly feeling the pain now, becoming more uncoordinated as the pain started overloading his control of motor functions. Dathan would be able to catch up.

It was jarring to get out of the woods and find himself in a clearing in the middle of the forest. Dathan instinctively ducked in the case of an attack, but nothing came. Quickly, he got back up, holding his gun ready and scanned the clearing.

He saw the man at the edge of the field, kneeling and holding his shoulder. He couldn't be sure, but Dathan thought he saw the man trying to stop the bleeding. Not the best time, Dathan thought, but brushed it off for being distracting.

He stole up on the man, but the man still heard Dathan coming and turned around, attempting to stand up. Dathan quickly turned the safety off, and pointed the gun straight at the man's chest.

White in the face (though whether it was from fear or blood loss, Dathan couldn't tell), the man noticed the gun and then looked Dathan himself up and down.

"Oh, Emmett," said the man, startling Dathan by mentioning his father. "Breaking him in quickly, aren't you?" The man didn't seem to be talking to Dathan, but just to the man who wasn't there. He seemed to be strong enough to take his mind off of his bloody shoulder, though he was clutching it with the opposite hand.

Without saying anything, Dathan kept the gun trained on him, circling at a safe distance. The man noticed this and smiled strainedly. "Kid, if you're going to take the shot, take it." His smile widened when Dathan's hands started shaking. "I'll bet my life you've never killed before." He seemed amused by his own irony.

Dathan couldn't stop his hands shaking. He didn't want to take his eyes off of this man, but how was he supposed to shoot when he couldn't calm down? Stop shaking!

The man walked towards Dathan until his chest was flush against the barrel of the gun. Something was very, very wrong. Back away! he told his body. Why are you standing still? The man leaned in even closer until Dathan bent the arm holding the gun and allowing the man into his personal space.

"Hm," said the man, grinning now. "That'll get you killed." If it didn't actually happen, he would have never dreamed it, but then, the man reached and affectionately ruffled Dathan's hair. He felt the warm blood from the man's hand sticking to his scalp and hair. "Next time you let someone this close, you'll be dead. Okay?"

The man looked up then, bringing his hand back to the shoulder which took the bullet. "Emmett's watching," he said quietly. "I'd do something very quickly if I were you." The man looked down again and then the pain seemed to be gone. "I'm Patrick Moriarty. It's nice to finally see you in person, kid."

"W-what?" said Dathan, his voice cracking and high.

"You've got to shoot me," said Patrick, as if it were obvious. "If you don't, Emmett or Matthew will; I can't outrun them now. But if you're not the one to shoot me, then..." He shrugged with his good shoulder. "Well, I stopped trying to predict Emmett a while ago."

"What are you saying?" asked Dathan, raising his shaking hand to aim at Patrick's chest again.

"I'm saying shoot me," said Patrick, now frowning with impatience. "Emmett won't let us stand here forever."

"I - "

"Do it!" snarled Patrick suddenly, jumping forward and making Dathan start with something he refused to call fear. It was reflex that pulled the trigger in that second. This gun wasn't silenced. Dathan was temporarily deaf and when he came to his senses a few seconds later, Patrick was on his knees and about to fall.

"Good kid." Beyond any human's ability, the man managed to speak with an enormous cavity in his chest carved by a bullet. He fell forward on Dathan and he caught Patrick's head at his abdomen. He dropped his gun to hold Patrick's head and look at him. His eyes were still open, and Dathan felt sick.

A hand from behind dropped on his shoulder and Dathan gasped, dropping Patrick. With a strangled shout, Dathan shot upwards, gulping air and held his trembling hands to his temples. Cold sweat dripped from his face and made his shirt stick uncomfortably to his torso. He reached over to click on a light, and felt bile rise in his throat. He clasped a hand over his mouth and bolted to the bathroom. He spent the next several minutes emptying his stomach into the toilet, the repetitious heaving clawing his stomach. Even when his stomach was empty, he kept dry-heaving, until finally, he felt less nauseous.

He leaned over the toilet and groaned, dropping his head onto his forearm. Again...

When he felt strong enough to stand up, he cleaned up and went back to his bedroom. Seeing the time, he decided it wasn't too early to start the day and he changed out of his night clothes that were now stinking with sweat. He took a shower, made coffee, checked his email and his messages, all according to his ironclad morning routine.

One of the messages related to work. "Uhm, hello, Mr. Samuels. This is Andrew Wyatt calling from Tyndall, Manitoba. I have a... a sort of problem and I was given your name when I went looking for help. A guy named Matthew Young recommended you...? To be straightforward, there's a werewolf, who's threatened me and my girlfriend. If you could come out and help, that would be great. If you want to discuss payment, my number is 204-###-####. I would really appreciate hearing back from you."

Dathan noted the time the call came in (yesterday at 5:30 eastern time), and looked through his other messages.

There was another one from Meira: "Hey, Dath, I guess you're out on a job or something, but can you call Mom? She hasn't heard from you in so long, she's threatening to hold back this month's payment... Anyway, see you later. Love you."

He snorted, knowing as well as Meira that Mom would never hold money back, especially when she thought her baby couldn't survive without their support. The sun was peeking into his window now, and Dathan opened the blinds, considering. He had until the end of May to get his license renewed... Yeah, he had time.

Dathan listened to Wyatt's message again and wrote the number down. He dialed.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Andrew Wyatt?" said Dathan.

"Yes, who is this?"

"This is Dathan Samuels, I got your message. I hear you need a hunter...?"

"Ah, yes, yes I do. There's this werewolf, Lyle Allen, who I used to get along with but then he started getting... A little..."

"Crazy?" supplied Dathan, scribbling notes.

"Er, not quite," said Wyatt. "Just a little... scary."

"So he wasn't before?" asked Dathan, an amused twist to his lips.

"No," said Wyatt. "He was as harmless as a puppy."

"Well, puppies grow up," said Dathan. "So why haven't you gone to the local authorities?"

"They're busy with their own problems," said Wyatt, casually offhand. "I hear it's something to do with the wyvern population getting a little too close to home. And anyways... You know, the authorities don't officially condone..."

"Ah," said Dathan. "So is Matt serving over in Manitoba then?"

"Yeah, he's with the rural force and said if I wanted a solution, I should call you."

"I see. So, about payment..."

"Ah, yes," said Wyatt. "Do you have a rate?"

"How about you tell me what you think is reasonable," said Dathan, "and we'll go from there."

"I was thinking two grand."

"Make it twenty-five hundred and you've got a deal."

"That is definitely possible," said Wyatt, and gave Dathan his address and directions.

"Alright," said Dathan, finished writing the necessary info. "I'll be on the next flight to Winnipeg."

***

Dathan left the Winnipeg James Armstrong Richardson International Airport at 7:00 am central time, and headed north out of the city in a rented pick-up truck. It was a short drive to Tyndall, and he made a short stop at the gas station. Inside, he picked up a large coffee and made conversation with the cashier.

"So I hear there's wyvern trouble further north," he said.

The man (whose nametag read Brett) nodded. "The rural cops have basically left skeleton crews in their areas. Everyone who can is up north; it's all happening 'round Portage la Prairie."

Dathan nodded, pretending only casual interest. "Anything happening around here?"

The man seemed to almost laugh, but caught himself. "I was going to say 'are you kidding', but actually... Yeah. There's some werewolf hanging around. No big deal, though."

"Why not?" asked Dathan, eyes narrowing.

"Well, he's one of the mavericks for sure, but he hasn't been making a lot of trouble." Brett shrugged.

"Huh," said Dathan. "That's rare for a maverick, isn't it?" He had started frowning almost against his will and he was struggling to wipe it from his forehead.

"I guess," said Brett noncommittally. "I never saw the big deal, as long as they don't bother us. And hey, I'd rather we have a werewolf making trouble than a vampire."

"Hm," Dathan grunted, disregarding the cashier now. He paid for the coffee and left for Wyatt's place. He pulled up and after double-checking the address, knocked on the door. He listened to someone pad to the door and the clicks of a number of things being unlocked.

"Mr. Samuels?" The voice came from the sliver of the person Dathan could see through the crack between the door and the threshold. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," said Dathan. "Andrew Wyatt?"

"Yes," said Wyatt, sounding relieved and opened the door for him to step through. "Come in."

Dathan hurried for Wyatt's sake, but looked around suspiciously. "It's sunny out," he said to Wyatt. "Would this friend of yours attack in broad daylight?"

"Huh?" Wyatt seemed distracted while closing the door and relocking the main bolts, and needed a second to think about the question before waving it off. "Oh, no, no, I'm sure he wouldn't dare. All this is just for later, in the evening, the night. It's just neither of us have gone out yet."

"You and your girlfriend?" asked Dathan, and Wyatt nodded.

"Okay..." said Dathan. "Before we talk about anything else, can I assume he won't even move until it's dark out?"

"Um, yeah, I guess," said Wyatt. "Probably planning. I doubt he's anywhere but the bush right now."

"Okay, then I have time." Dathan looked around the foyer area and fidgeted. Wyatt caught the hint.

"Oh, sorry," Wyatt said. "Take your shoes off, come in. Gwenny!"

"Yeah?" A woman's voice came from upstairs.

"Dathan Samuels is here!" Wyatt called up.

"I'll be right down!" she yelled back.

Wyatt turned to Dathan and shrugged apologetically. "She'll be a little bit; can't stand to see other people without looking 'presentable'. Anyways, coffee?"

Dathan considered the last third of his coffee cup. "In a little bit, thanks. Can I sit?"

"Yes, please do," said Wyatt, getting the coffee maker fired up. The two sat quietly, conversing about the wyverns up north again until 'Gwenny' came downstairs. After a good twenty minutes, she walked into the kitchen, and immediately shook Dathan's hand. It was a strong handshake.

"So, Mr. Samuels," she said over a cup of coffee. "How long have you been hunting?"

"Since I was about seven," said Dathan, taking a long draught. "My first major trip was when I was eleven, though."

"Oh, wow, you've been doing this for a while now," said Gweneth (as she said her name was). "So, how old are you, anyway...? Nineteen? Twenty?"

Dathan laughed, feeling his face heat up. "No, I'm, uh, sixteen."

That took them both by surprise.

"Only sixteen?" asked Wyatt, now frowning.

"But you look so - " said Gweneth.

"Older, I know," said Dathan, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to stop blushing. "I get that a lot. It helps."

"But," said Wyatt. "I was kind of - hoping - "

"Mr. Wyatt," said Dathan. "I know what I'm doing. I've been doing this for nine years. The government gave me a (senior) license; don't you think that speaks for itself?"

"It is hard to get that kind of (clout)," said Gweneth, with the air of someone reminding their boyfriends of something for the tenth time. "Remember Robert? It took him forever to get even his basic license and he was twenty when he applied."

"I guess," said Wyatt, grunting. "Well, I trust that you've earned your license there. As long as you take care of Lyle for me, that's good enough."

"Good," said Dathan firmly. "Now, tell me about this Lyle."

The couple spent the next couple hours explaining everything relevant they could remember about their werewolf friend, sustained by multiple cups of coffee. Wyatt looked drained by the end of it. The sun was high in the sky when Dathan looked out the window.

"Well," he said. "That should do it for now. Thanks for the coffee."

"You're leaving now?" asked Gweneth, seemingly surprised by his abruptness.

"Yeah," said Dathan. "I've got to go set up. I'll come back once I've taken care of Lyle." He leaned over and dropped a card on the table in front of them. "This is the number for my satellite phone. Call me if he shows up, or if you have any concerns."

"O-Okay," said Wyatt, taking it. "I - goodbye, then."

"Mm."

Dathan put on his shoes, his jacket and went out to the truck. He dug through his backpack and travel bag, making sure that everything he needed was there. Then he scanned the horizon, looking at the 'bush' Wyatt seemed so sure Lyle was hiding out in. It was a good, long distance away, and Dathan decided he'd be better driving to it.

So at the edge of the trees, he got out and started poking around, looking for any signs that there was a werewolf anywhere close. It was another few hours before he found something. What looked like a regular man's bare footprint stamped into the mud, long past the time when Dathan could see the edge of the forest.

Without making a sound, Dathan checked that his gun was still secured to his hip. Reassured, he followed the tracks, looking for more.

The sun was nearly set when he found what he thought was Lyle's impromptu base of sorts. He looked around the little camp, but found only hours-old traces of activity. Dathan dug around the lean-to and found some old papers. Glancing through them, he saw that they were personal, and left them alone. There was no plans or maps or anything.

Dathan took a look at the sun, and then down at his watch. Getting close on seven... He should go; it was obvious no one was here. He left a few surprises in case Lyle managed to make it back here in one piece, and turned to leave.

He jogged back to his truck and was about to get in when he saw a figure in the distance, heading towards town. He swore and climbed in, starting his engine. As he drove across the fields, he checked his bullets through the bumps, making sure they were silver. The light wasn't yet bad enough that he couldn't tell. He fingered the clips around his waist and drove around the figure.

As he got closer, he could tell the person wasn't running, just seemed to be briskly walking. If that was Lyle, he was a bit better than Dathan expected.

Dathan parked the truck on the main street, locking it and making sure he had everything he needed at the ready. If this was going to take more than a few bullets with a handgun or some stabs with a knife, then Dathan didn't want it to be any more complicated than unlocking his door and grabbing some explosives.

Then Dathan took a walk on his own. He walked up and down the main streets, checking the horizon to see when Lyle got close enough. In a little while, Lyle approached one of the food joints and Dathan followed him a few minutes later, but didn't go in. He stood around, making sure that Lyle wasn't leaving the building from some other exit, and then settled.

After a good half hour, Lyle left again and headed in the direction of Wyatt's house. A little ways behind, Dathan followed. As soon as Wyatt's home was in view, just on the outskirts and far from the center of the little town, Dathan picked up his pace. Lyle heard the crunch of the gravel behind him and walked faster.

Dathan started running, and Lyle changed course entirely from going to Wyatt's house back to the bush. Dathan felt much better about fighting a werewolf when there were no other humans around, and relaxed a little. While running, he grabbed his gun and turned the safety off.

When he thought he was a safe distance from the town, Dathan aimed and fired. It missed, and Lyle kept running. Dathan scowled. A full-grown man could run faster than this, to say nothing of a fully-grown werewolf. Lyle was leading him somewhere. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to keep following.

Lyle led him to the edge of the forest, but didn't go in. He turned around and frowned at Dathan.

"Why're you following me?" he asked.

Dathan merely got the next round ready.