《Good Dog of Bremor》 Chapter 1 The round in the chamber of his ¡®Smile¡¯ was worth three hundred pounds, or maybe more. Logan had only three of those. It had been crafted by Sir Harry Smith as Duncan¡¯s gift for his last birthday. Sir Harry had been working with the Bremor clan for a while already, so Logan knew the prices roughly. Prices weren¡¯t a problem, despite being quite a sum of money; it was rather the long, long list of orders for Smith¡¯s masterwork crafts. He would have waited for ages to get those deadly babes if not for Duncan. Hell, if not for Duncan, he wouldn¡¯t even have considered charmed bullets, preferring something more permanent, like a gun, a blade, or an amulet¡ªbut not a ring. His fingers grew thicker during a shift. Logan was a shifter, which made him good in melee fights, with claws and fangs extended. More fangs than claws, in his case, as his spirit was the wolfhound. But he definitely wasn¡¯t a fan of biting unless he needed to. A few bastards he had tried tasted horrible. One nasty werewolf had even made him throw up. Anyway, usually, he started with a gun or a knife. But not tonight. The special round was in the chamber, and a rival bloodsucker was directly in the line of his barrel. Logan was really tired of this hunt and awfully homesick. He had already made some quick but harsh and shortsighted decisions. Decisions that could make him rather unpopular with the local police. Such as intruding into an apartment and forcing the owners to drink a sleeping potion¡ªbecause that window was the best position he could arrange quickly. He wasn¡¯t proud of that. The bitch he was hunting had drawn him through six ¨C darn it, six ¨C counties in twenty-two days. And she was just a teacher! That rank couldn¡¯t cause him much trouble in a fight anymore. It would take a master vampire to make him uncertain about the outcome. And if she were a master, he wouldn¡¯t have hunted her alone ¨C or someone else would have been sent to hunt her. Though he¡¯d had a couple of fights with masters ¨C hell, even grandmasters, if participation counts ¨C he¡¯d survived, but he wasn¡¯t eager to repeat the experience. Last month, he¡¯d hunted down two werewolves roughly equal in power to the bloodsucker he was aiming at. Flea bags didn¡¯t have a rank system, as they used to gain power too fast. The man whose neck Logan snapped in Rigside was four months old, and the woman he caught in Eggleston was six months old, counting from their initiation. Just a couple of years ago, Logan wouldn¡¯t have even considered hunting them. Technically, he didn¡¯t consider anything; he was ordered to. The clan council had decided he was ready not only to hunt them but also to "provide support" for young warlocks. Meaning to wipe their arses and hunt prey for them so they could claim a trophy for Ferrish. Logan had some issues with the clan patron (long story), and he was cautious around the Ferons (an even longer story). Therefore, having Macy Feron as his subordinate was frustrating. And with Macy came Tim Boily. Apparently, there was a promotion ¨C buy one, get one free. Tim was a Boily (no issues with Boilies), and he was a shifter, so there were no patron-related issues. But he was a wolf shifter, and Logan was a wolfhound. That created some tension. Logan once again found himself irritated. Something was wrong. He briefly considered some sort of charm effect but dismissed the thought. No, it was his anxiety. Down below, there was a semi-decent restaurant; the vampiress was cautious enough not to choose a truly notable place. There she was, having a fake dinner with her real dinner ¨C a fat guy with a fat wallet. Logan supposed she wanted his money as much as his blood. Thus, she needed to play the full game: theater, dinner, then his apartment or a hotel, and finally, murder. She needed to make it clean, maybe even hide the body to buy herself some extra time for escape. Logan had already missed his chance near the theater; there had been a high probability of multiple casualties, and this spot was almost perfect. He was in the corner apartment on the third floor, with the window closest to the corner half-open and firmly fixed in that position, lights off. Across the crossroad, less than three hundred meters away, were the restaurant doors and a parking place fifty meters farther. Supposedly, the ¡®loving couple¡¯ was going to leave the restaurant through the front doors, turn their faces to the parking place, and their backs to Logan and his rifle. That was the most expected outcome, in which Logan planned to put the bullet under her fancy hat. Less expected ¨C almost unbelievable ¨C was her escaping through the back door. Macy and Tim could have been waiting there if Logan hadn¡¯t sent them home on the fifth day of the current hunt, when they had become more of a burden. That particular vampire wasn¡¯t a fighter; she was the sneaky type, an annoyingly cautious and clever specimen. This left room for surprises. You can¡¯t plan for surprises, only react. And that had Logan waiting, teetering on the brink of making mistakes ¨C if he hadn¡¯t made them already. The doors opened, and Logan held his breath, focusing... No, not them. He relaxed again, letting his thoughts wander. He hated hunting vampires; they were too slick. Logan preferred simple, straightforward werewolves. This was a job for Duncan! Well... maybe not. There were sometimes too many casualties and too much property damage when he was involved. Someone also had to save him from time to time. That was McLily¡¯s job half the time. Oh, right ¨C our Significant boy could easily handle the job with all his powerful illusions. Logan sighed. McLily definitely could handle the fight, but he was good at spying, not tracking. Evan! Cousin Evan could do it. But using him on such a target was like shooting flies with a shotgun. Logan sighed again and let out a quiet, almost silent whine. His inner dog was bored to death. The restaurant doors opened again, and no... It was another couple of happy visitors. Logan¡¯s thoughts shifted to the couple slipping onto the couch to his left. They wouldn¡¯t be so happy after waking up. At least they were going to be okay. Or maybe not? It looked like the wind was getting a little rougher close to midnight, creating a chilly draft in the room. They might catch a cold, but Logan couldn¡¯t close the window, move them, or even cover them with a blanket. Not now. His thoughts wandered freely while his body remained still in the chair under the dining table, which he had moved closer to the window. He couldn¡¯t just stick his rifle out of the window, so Logan had arranged his sniper nest deeper in the room. Doors again! Suddenly, it was them: a fat wallet in a gray suit and a typical gold digger in a blue dress with a silly hat. Logan held his breath. His heart made three quick thumps and started beating slower, slower, slower. He activated his silence amulet, and all sounds disappeared. All but his own heartbeat ¨C an illusion created by the rushing of blood through his veins. As expected, the pair of ''lovers'' turned toward the parking place. Logan quickly glanced at the street ahead. His enchanted bullet had incredible penetration characteristics, and Logan was careful not to shoot someone¡¯s leg off in addition to the bloodsucker¡¯s head. And it had to be the head or spine to be sure. Don¡¯t believe silly tales about the heart. They have a completely different organ in that place. Fortunately, it was late, and not many people were on the streets. The closest man moving toward the pair adjusted his path to pass by and got himself out of the bullet¡¯s trajectory. The vampiress, hanging on the man¡¯s left elbow, leaned toward him and said something in his ear. He shook his head back, apparently laughing, and leaned back, causing her head to freeze in one position for a moment. Logan pulled the trigger. ¡®Smile¡¯s¡¯ stock pushed against his shoulder, the barrel spat out a fire burst, which went unmarked in total silence while down below¡­ The bullet flew through her head and embedded itself deep in the sidewalk pavement. Her head exploded, flesh and bones scattering, and Logan hoped there were plenty of brains, too. Otherwise, things could still turn ugly. Logan cycled the bolt, ready to send another, less fancy bullet forward. He definitely could have used a better look before his instincts kicked in. That silly hat and voluminous hairstyle distorted the visible proportions of her head. The hat stayed on, even as the fat man pushed her away. She hit the ground hard, like a sack of potatoes, and lay there motionless for five long heartbeats. Perfect. Only then did Logan deactivate his amulet. The screams erupted. The fat man, his face covered in thick vampire blood and other substances, sounded like a pig at the butcher''s. Beneath that mess, he might have suffered skull fractures, and his complexion suggested he might also have a heart attack soon ¨C an unfortunate casualty, given all the effort Logan had put into avoiding them. So, he decided to keep half an eye on the fat one while cleaning. There was also some random guy actively vomiting not far from the corpse. Well, there was no danger in that. Logan left the rifle on the table and approached the window. He had used forks to prop the sashes in their current position. Now, he had to remove them before closing it. The window frame creaked in protest, then released the cheap metal with a couple of protruding splinters. Logan had to remove those too before shutting the window. Then he checked on the fat man again (still screaming, no heart attack yet) and placed a blanket over the unconscious couple. There was a proper procedure for such situations. Logan was supposed to call the police and deal with the local special squad, but he was too tired for that shit. So, instead of the police, he picked up the receiver and dialed a number for a long-distance call. For a change, there was no usual hissing or clicking, and the line was unusually clear. After several beeps, someone picked up on the other end. ¡°Hello there,¡± a woman''s voice said. Damn, the connection was good this time. ¡°It¡¯s Logan. I finished the job,¡± he said in a tired tone. ¡°Oh, hi, Logan. It¡¯s Chloe,¡± she said. ¡°Feron,¡± she added after a couple of seconds. Bollocks! Logan frowned. He had no issues with Chloe personally¡­ ¡°Hi, Chloe.¡± ¡°So... any problems there?¡± she asked. ¡°Yes... about that... Actually...¡± Logan stopped to chew the fat. ¡°I just shot her dead, and I didn¡¯t have time for proper preparation.¡± ¡°Casualties?¡± ¡°No! No-no!¡± Logan assured her. ¡°The other part. No authority involved.¡± ¡°Nothing unusual. You guys always do that,¡± Chloe said, indicating that hunters often deliberately ignored local authorities until the job was done. ¡°Ye-e-ep. I would love to continue ignoring them. It was a very long three weeks. I¡¯m freaking exhausted.¡± ¡°Logan, you know I can¡¯t give you permission for that, right? It¡¯s late, none of my bosses are still in, and there¡¯s no emergency to call them. Am I right? No emergency?¡± ¡°Definitely no emergency,¡± Logan reassured her, and an awkward silence hung in the air for another dozen seconds. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll call straight to your uncle,¡± she suggested. ¡°Yeah,¡± he chuckled, ¡°like that¡¯s gonna help.¡± His uncle, Brice Kincaid, Earl of Bremor and head of the almighty Bremor clan, was a firm believer in separating work and family. ¡°Well¡­¡± ¡°Wait! Can you find McLily?¡± ¡°The Significant one?¡± ¡°Right. Let him try his posh shit-talking on the local police. If I can¡¯t avoid it, it may significantly reduce my time in custody.¡± ¡°Time in custody? Are you sure there¡¯s no emergency?¡± ¡°Definitely none!¡± Logan repeated and took a step toward the window to check on the fat guy. He wasn¡¯t screaming anymore, just standing there. Apparently in shock, but with no signs of a heart attack. ¡°Just one ugly corpse,¡± Logan said. ¡°I¡¯ll try. You know how good he is at making His Significance disappear if he wants to, right?¡± ¡°Ha, tell me about that. Thanks, Chloe.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Logan¡­ Bye then?¡± ¡°Yeah, bye.¡± Logan hung up the receiver, grimaced, and rubbed his face to let his emotions out a little. Another look at the window confirmed that the fat man was okay. Though, at this point, the crime scene was getting a little crowded, and Logan took a moment to spot him. Two constables, clearly recognizable by their custodian helmets, were trying to deal with the crowd. Logan sighed, tilted his head back as if he was going to howl, but instead, he picked up the receiver again and dialed the police. ¡°Police. What¡¯s your emergency?¡± a man¡¯s voice responded this time. ¡°Shooting at¡­¡± Logan abruptly realized he didn¡¯t know the address of the place. He leaned towards the window, attempting to read the sign on the restaurant. From his position, he could only see the flank and the upper side of the sign. It was totally unreadable. Logan tried to recall that brief moment when he drove past the establishment. There had been big golden letters above the window casing, none of which stayed in his memory. Another mistake.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Sir?¡± Logan sighed again. ¡°Shooting near the restaurant. I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s called. A couple of your constables are here; someone should report soon if not already. The woman killed was a vampire, and I had a warrant to do that.¡± ¡°You killed her, sir?¡± The policeman¡¯s voice tensed. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Can you¡­¡± ¡°Logan Gregor Kincaid. Bremor clan.¡± ¡°Hunters,¡± the policeman said, his voice losing a decent half of its tension. ¡°Yes. Can you please send your special squad for me?¡± ¡°Sure can do, Mr. Kincaid.¡± ¡°Perfect. I¡¯ll be around and show myself when they arrive.¡± ¡°Oh, you may¡­¡± ¡°Believe me, I can recognize your guys,¡± Logan said before hanging up. Last year, he had seen so many civilian-clothed special squads and secret service guys that it had become second nature for him to identify them without any magic. Next, he took a small notebook and a pen out of his pocket, tore out a sheet, and wrote: "Sorry for the window!!! Don¡¯t worry about the rifle; the police will come and take it soon." Apologies couldn¡¯t repair the window, and they¡¯d need a couple of new forks, so Logan added two ten-pound notes on top of his words and left them on the table near the rifle. He left the apartment, descended the stairs, and paused for a moment in the lobby to pull out a rolled newspaper from an open mailbox full of papers, mail, and other junk. Someone apparently hadn¡¯t checked it in a long time. Logan looked at the paper. It was the local weekly publication. The date: August 22, 1938. Two weeks late. Any important news would have already reached Logan¡¯s ears. However, there were crosswords ¨C two pages! If they allowed it, it might occupy Logan for a bit in the cell. Number one across: "In this position, they are certainly not free-handed." Eight letters. Logan frowned and stopped. He even took a superstitious look around. ¡°Bollocks,¡± he said, continuing to move. ¡°It won¡¯t be ¡®tied¡¯ but ¡®manacled.¡¯ Yep, definitely ¡®manacled.¡¯¡± Number one down: "One of the zoological family." Six letters; starts with ''m''. Hmm, ¡®mammal¡¯? Logan wasn¡¯t sure about that. While reading the questions, he left the building and moved to the closest pedestrian crosswalk at the corner. He crossed the road to appear on the sidewalk parallel to the one with the corpse. It was already quite crowded, but Logan couldn¡¯t hide himself among onlookers without magic. He was at least half a head taller than the tallest man there and definitely had the broadest shoulders. It wasn¡¯t so noticeable while he stood alone slouching. He found himself a shadowy spot behind a beaten old sedan and leaned his back against the wall just as several more cops appeared. A patrol car arrived with two more constables and a detective to manage the mess. Logan took out his pen and wrote down "manacled" in the puzzle. He wrote down nine more words, including "mammal," before the special squad guys arrived. Just like Logan, they parked their Martin on the parallel sidewalk, further to the left of him. They didn¡¯t go straight to the crime scene, preferring to take a look around first. While doing that, one of them immediately spotted Logan. There were two of them: the big guy and the lean one. Both checked that their jackets were open in an instinctive manner, ensuring quick access to any weapons hidden inside. The big guy was a little smaller than Logan himself; he had to be some sort of shifter. It was him who spotted Logan first. His eyes narrowed, professionally scanning for any sign of danger. Logan smiled and waved at him. The big guy said something to the lean one and moved forward. The lean one stepped onto the road a couple of seconds later, positioning parked cars between himself and Logan, with his partner slightly to the side of the straight trajectory. Warlock or wizard? Definitely a ranged fighter. Logan would use the same tactic when working in a pair with Duncan or McLily. The big guy stopped a few meters away, a distance they could each cover in a fraction of a second. ¡°Sir,¡± he greeted with a smirk. ¡°Nice evening, don¡¯t you think?¡± Logan rolled his eyes. This was exactly why he hated local special squads ¨C too many jerks with fragile egos. ¡°Logan Gregor Kincaid,¡± he replied. ¡°Skip the bullshit and show me your badge.¡± Logan noticed an orange glint in the man¡¯s eyes. The shifter was clearly restraining his aggression. That was a good sign. So Logan added, ¡°No offense, mister. I¡¯ve had a very long three weeks hunting that one.¡± He nodded toward the crime scene. ¡°But I¡¯m ready to cooperate, so let¡¯s skip the bullshit and deal with it quickly.¡± Still, Logan couldn¡¯t afford to be too polite. Fragile egos, remember? If they thought all that mess was made by some wimp ¨C implying Logan ¨C it would turn into real torture for both sides. The shifter considered his options and finally flipped open the left side of his jacket, revealing a crowned badge pinned to his inner pocket and a gun in a shoulder holster. ¡°Sergeant Thomas Rennie, Police Special Squad,¡± he announced. He didn¡¯t mention the Hereford Constabulary, but Logan decided this wasn¡¯t the time to split hairs. ¡°Good,¡± Logan said with a curt nod. ¡°Now, I need you or your partner to bring the detective here as a final precaution before I hand over my weapons. Let him write down my name in his notebook. Oh, and I can also provide him with the vampire¡¯s name.¡± ¡°Jonny,¡± the shifter called over his partner. ¡°Call the detective, please.¡± ¡°Are you sure, Thom?¡± Jonny asked. ¡°I can give you my gun first,¡± Logan offered. ¡°Please do, sir,¡± Thom agreed quickly. Logan slowly placed the pen in his mouth, rolled up the paper, and held it in his left hand. Then, using the same hand, he flipped open the left side of his jacket. With two fingers of his right hand, he slid his modified Webley MK VI out of its holster and extended it to Thom. Thom took the gun. ¡°What¡¯s on the other side?¡± he asked. ¡°Just a knife,¡± Logan replied, then flipped open the right side of his jacket. ¡°More like a freaking sword!¡± Thom exclaimed. Logan rolled his eyes demonstratively. Sure, his knife wasn¡¯t small, but calling it a sword was clearly an exaggeration. ¡°Let¡¯s call the detective, and I¡¯ll give it to you,¡± Logan said. ¡°Jonny,¡± Thom repeated. Jonny turned his head toward the detective and began to stare. Inside the crime perimeter, cleared of the crowd, the detective was talking to the fat man. The man had already wiped his face and suit clean of vampire remnants using towels from the restaurant. The job was far from thorough; he clearly needed a good bath and a couple of shots of whiskey to clear his mind. The detective was using the man¡¯s still-shocked state to gather as much unfiltered information as possible, scribbling notes in his notebook. In the middle of the process, the detective abruptly jerked his head and looked around until his gaze landed on Jonny, then shifted to Logan. He nodded swiftly, snapped his notebook shut, and said something to the constables. One of them reached into his pocket for his own notebook and continued taking witness statements, while the detective left the established perimeter. ¡°Nice,¡± Logan said to Jonny, still trying to guess whether he was a warlock or a wizard. Seeing some magic would definitely help, so Logan worked on opening his Third Eye, though with no results yet. As the detective crossed the road and approached Logan and his guards, a couple of gazes in the onlookers'' crowd turned their way. A photo camera flashed with a recognizable sound. Logan instinctively jerked his head and waved his rolled-up newspaper in front of his face, trying to spoil the frame. Luckily, none of the special guys considered that a threat. ¡°Hey!¡± Jonny spotted the man right away and pointed a finger. ¡°You there!¡± ¡°Hereford Tribune!¡± the photographer answered. Logan unrolled his newspaper to cover his face just before the camera flashed again. ¡°Stop it!¡± Jonny ordered. The photographer replied with some nonsense like, ¡°People have to know!¡± Then something popped, and the same voice exclaimed, ¡°Fuck!¡± Logan cautiously peeked over the top of the paper. The man was viciously shaking his camera, trying to put out the fire. It wasn¡¯t hard to guess what had happened. ¡°Next will be on the lens!¡± Jonny warned. Logan noticed the lens was still intact; only the bulb on the flash had burned out. ¡°You can¡¯t shut the press!¡± the photographer snapped, with a tone that reminded Logan of Olivia. Burke¡¯s girlfriend. A cousin of his. Those words were total bullshit; Olivia just liked to poke her nose into other people¡¯s secrets. Logan knew how to handle people like her. ¡°Hey,¡± Logan said. ¡°Let¡¯s trade those pictures for a juicy story.¡± ¡°No way,¡± Jonny cut in. ¡°I know that moron!¡± ¡°That¡¯s not gonna stay a secret forever,¡± Logan reasoned with him. ¡°Do you want your photo on the front page?¡± ¡°You definitely don¡¯t!¡± Jonny smirked. Logan shrugged. He definitely didn¡¯t! That kind of exposure would make hunting a nightmare. ¡°So what¡¯s all this about?¡± the detective asked, and the reporter pricked up his ears, inching closer. ¡°You! Stay there!¡± Jonny barked at him. ¡°Theresa J. Rollan,¡± Logan said loudly, pointing toward the crime scene. ¡°Shu-u-u!¡± Jonny hissed, while the reporter swapped his camera for a notebook, scribbling down the name. The detective quickly put two and two together. ¡°County Ross survivor?¡± he asked quietly. The reporter didn¡¯t catch that and took a step forward. ¡°Ah-ah!¡± Jonny wagged his finger at him, and Logan simply nodded. ¡°Shit!¡± the detective muttered. ¡°I thought that story was over.¡± ¡°I wish,¡± Logan sighed. ¡°We hunt most of them down, but there are still a couple scattered across the country.¡± ¡®A couple¡¯ was quite an understatement, though the detective didn¡¯t need to know that. The reporter tried something else that set Jonny off again. ¡°One more time, I swear¡­¡± ¡°She was a runaway vampire,¡± Logan interrupted the special man. ¡°Shut up!¡± Jonny snapped, but Logan ignored him. ¡°He was going to be her dinner. Special squad set up an ambush, and it worked perfectly.¡± Jonny raised his eyebrows, but the reporter didn¡¯t notice. ¡°It¡¯s pretty messy!¡± the reporter commented. Thom gestured toward the fat man. ¡°And that¡¯s all the damage done,¡± he said. ¡°Now, make yourself a nice photo,¡± Thom added, pointing again to the fat man. The reporter hesitated, then stopped. ¡°And you are?¡± he asked Logan. ¡°We¡¯re done here,¡± Thom cut in. ¡°Sorry for the mess,¡± he added, addressing the detective. Then he gestured toward the car, and all three of them headed there like old friends. Though¡­ ¡°I¡¯m taking the back seat this time,¡± Jonny said. Once they were in the car, Logan pointed to the building behind the crossroad. ¡°Remember that. Third-floor corner window. I left my rifle there. And my Cooper is further over there,¡± he added, pointing to the left. ¡°3935 on the plate. Keys¡­¡± He dug into his pocket for the keychain and handed it to Thom. ¡°The corundum there switches general protection off so you can drive away. But be careful, there¡¯s still a lot of stuff you can¡¯t touch! You hear me? No touching!¡± His diary was the main concern. It was hidden in a secret stash in the back left door. Every hunter had one and trusted it with their story. It was a kind of death insurance for the clan, ensuring they would avenge his death. Logan wasn¡¯t a diligent writer, but he still revealed a lot of sensitive stuff to the paper. ¡°We got it,¡± Thom reassured him. Still, both squadmen decided to take him into custody first. They drove a couple of blocks away before starting the conversation again. Thom was the first to speak. ¡°You said that we did it.¡± ¡°It was an apology. You can always deny it.¡± ¡°I believe we won¡¯t,¡± Thom chuckled. ¡°Yeah, I believe that too,¡± Logan agreed. ¡°You¡¯re still going to custody first.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Logan frowned. ¡°Can you at least leave me the paper and the pen?¡± ¡°What for?¡± ¡°Crossword puzzles. It¡¯s always boring in there.¡± ¡°No can do. Sorry, man. No writing instruments allowed in custody ¨C in case you start scribbling some nasty magic formulas.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need a pen if you can do that,¡± Logan objected. ¡°My cousin once was manacled in a vampire¡¯s basement. They used special bulb manacles that fully covered his fists. He escaped by drawing formulas on the floor using his big toe as a pen and butt sweat as ink.¡± Both squadmen took a moment to process the information. Jonny was the first to break. ¡°Butt sweat?!¡± he asked, incredulously. ¡°They kept him naked and high on drugs,¡± Logan explained matter-of-factly. ¡°Sounds like a tall tale,¡± Jonny said skeptically. Logan shrugged. It wasn¡¯t the craziest thing Duncan had ever done. ¡°All I¡¯m saying is, I¡¯m more of a physical type. Magic and I aren¡¯t friends.¡± ¡°You could use some sleep,¡± Thom suggested. ¡°You look tired.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been running on stimulators for the last four days. If I fall asleep, you won¡¯t be able to wake me up until Friday. And there are a lot of questions that need answering.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll try to figure something out,¡± Thom said, a hint of compassion in his voice. Chapter 2 McLily worked his magic. Not the real kind of magic ¨C like when he stays unnoticed behind you for hours or makes your food look like a frog just before you bite into it. This time, he didn¡¯t rely on illusions. Just his trademark posh and arrogant bullshit. ¡®Significant,¡¯ his nickname, was the clan¡¯s way of mocking him, but over time, it began to ring true. You can¡¯t mock the Earl¡¯s assistant and expect him to help you get out of custody. This time, McLily¡¯s ¡®magic¡¯ protected Logan in a strange way. His captors were stunned by the reception their boss arranged for him. No cell at first, no interrogation room. It didn¡¯t even resemble a typical interrogation; instead, it felt like a casual inquiry, with tea and biscuits served as they sat on a comfortable leather couch inside the local PSS chief¡¯s office. The special squad governor was unexpectedly polite yet thorough. Logan kept himself occupied with biscuits, working through a basket or two. Somewhere between the first and third teapot, he ran out of stimulants. The borrowed power left him completely, and from then on, everything became a hazy blur. He woke up with enormous pressure on his bladder, finding himself in a cell but on the chief¡¯s couch. The door was open, and it was midday on Tuesday ¨C not Friday, as he had half-expected ¨C thanks to the tea. After tending to his bodily needs, he wrapped up his business with the PSS ¨C it took some time ¨C and headed home. Late in the evening, Logan drove his Cooper through six counties in six hours, most of the journey cloaked in darkness. He arrived home just before sunrise, the sky tinged with gray and faint pink over Avok. Parking his car near the new five-story building, mostly inhabited by young families, he sneaked into his apartment unnoticed. Inside, he paused at the crib where his sweet Joanna lay, sleeping peacefully. Logan suppressed the urge to hug the baby and quietly undressed, trying to slip into bed without waking anyone. But this didn¡¯t sit well with Jenny. His wife, who only slept soundly nestled against his chest, had developed trouble sleeping after being kidnapped by werewolves. As Logan slid his hairy leg under the blanket, Jenny shuddered, her eyes snapping open wildly. Before Logan could speak, she retrieved the Bulldog revolver from under her pillow, aiming it squarely at him. Logan instantly grabbed the gun, blocking the hammer. ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± he whispered urgently. ¡°Logan, honey! It¡¯s Logan.¡± ¡°What the hell, Logan!¡± she whispered harshly. ¡°Stop sneaking home like that, or I swear I¡¯ll shoot you one day.¡± ¡°Love you too, honey,¡± he whispered back, kissing her forehead. She released her grip on the gun, and Logan placed it carefully on the nightstand before attempting to get comfortable. ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± Jenny asked angrily. ¡°Just one kiss? You haven¡¯t been home for a month!¡± ¡°I¡¯m exhausted,¡± Logan tried to excuse himself. ¡°And I¡¯m on the verge of reporting your behavior to the women¡¯s committee.¡± Logan winced. Dealing with the committee was a nightmare for married clan men. ¡°I¡¯ve never laid a hand on you!¡± he objected. ¡°You¡¯ve done worse. You¡¯ve practically abandoned me! You missed Joanna¡¯s birth, and I can literally count the days you¡¯ve been home since then. She¡¯s turning a year old next month!¡± Jenny¡¯s whisper grew harsher and louder until she caught herself and hushed, worried she might wake the baby. Logan froze, but Joanna stayed silent. Before Jenny could unleash her frustration again, Logan pulled her closer with his left hand, gave her a long kiss, and squeezed her breast with his right. ¡°Uh! Uh!¡± Jenny squirmed. ¡°Milk! Bullocks, Logan!¡± A couple of thin milk streams sprayed onto him, the blanket, and the bedsheet. ¡°Sorry!¡± he said quickly, releasing her. Both of them sat up, fumbling with pillows to clean the mess. ¡°You¡¯ve done nothing wrong,¡± Jenny said, leaning toward him and pressing her forehead against his unshaven cheek. ¡°Sorry about that. I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m not fully awake yet.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be,¡± he said, hugging her. ¡°It¡¯s what? Four? Five o¡¯clock in the morning?¡± ¡°Love you,¡± she said and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. ¡°Get some sleep.¡± "It would be much more satisfying if I knew you¡¯re not angry at me anymore." ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± ¡°Really? Show me!¡± Logan stretched his legs, grabbed Jenny, and made her sit on his hips. Then he fell back on the pillow. ¡°I¡¯m too tired, but you seem to have some extra energy.¡± Jenny chuckled, being pleased, and made herself comfortable. ¡°Logan Gregor Kincaid,¡± she said, ¡°you¡¯re such a lazy dick.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m happily married.¡± Simple words, yet they brought joy to Jenny. She put in some extra effort with her hips to prove him right ¨C perhaps a little too much. They ended up waking Joanna, but it turned out for the better. Logan had the chance to cuddle his daughter before falling asleep. He slept all day, waking up late at night out of hunger, with Jenny nestled on his hairy chest. He moved her easily, finding her calm and sleepy this time, murmuring something as he did so. She woke up later and followed him to the kitchen as he wolfed down the feast Jenny had prepared for him: a giant black pudding, a basket of freshly baked buns, roasted chicken, tomato bean stew, and several bottles of locally brewed beer. Jenny stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, smiling at his wolfing. ¡°You¡¯re gonna choke yourself,¡± she remarked. ¡°It¡¯s delicious!¡± he munched, clenching his teeth on the wing, crushing chicken bones and easily chewing them. Then he took a bite of a bun, a spoonful of beans, and a piece of pudding, washing it all down with a generous sip of beer. ¡°Love you, honey!¡± ¡°Really? You should show me that,¡± she joked. ¡°Seems like you¡¯re the one with some extra energy tonight.¡± Logan froze for a moment, then took a sip and wiped his hands and mouth. He left the table. ¡°You haven¡¯t finished.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll finish later,¡± he said, lifting her up. He moved towards the bedroom but stopped and put Jenny down. ¡°We¡¯re gonna wake her again.¡± ¡°Are we?¡± Jenny asked. ¡°Yes,¡± Logan answered. Jenny pointed to the couch in the living room. Logan considered it and shook his head, instead pointing to the child¡¯s room. It was still half-empty, with only a commode and a couple of shelves. Logan sneaked into the bedroom and returned with a blanket. ¡°I¡¯m a married woman,¡± Jenny chuckled. ¡°I hoped the times when we did that on some sheet in a dark, empty place were long gone.¡± Logan returned her joke. ¡°We can make it on the kitchen table, like all the young parents are supposed to. But you¡¯ll have to wait until I clean it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not fond of waiting,¡± Jenny said, taking the blanket from his hands. Then they had a great night. Much better than they did in her father¡¯s garage. The next day, Logan woke up before noon, feeling okay for the traditional visits. They ¨C Logan, Jenny, and Joanna ¨C had lunch at her parents¡¯ and supper at his. Duncan once said to him that taking more than one visit per day was a mortal challenge for him. But Duncan was a wizard, not a wolfhound shifter. Logan had no trouble stuffing himself with the food both mothers prepared for him and drinking all the alcohol the fathers offered. It usually made him a little clumsy for a short while, but it was the best time and place to be clumsy. It felt almost like being in heaven, eating Mom¡¯s pies and listening to her arguing with his sisters. Though it was an idealistic picture with missing pieces. Duncan was the first one, but Duncan was safe in Farnell as far as Logan knew. Then there were ¨C or were not ¨C Burk, Evan, Sally¡­ The last one was unexpected. Sally preferred hospital jobs, and yet she and Kris, her husband, had started actively hunting again, leaving their son with grandparents. Not with Evan, Sally¡¯s father, because he hunted even more than Logan these days. All the clan warlocks had gone rogue, searching for new trophies for their patron. Another Big War was in the air, and they tried to gain more power as soon as possible. Logan was a shifter, not a warlock, so he didn¡¯t depend on Ferrish¡¯s pittances. All he needed to gain power was good training.Stolen story; please report. He resumed it the next day, starting with something simple: running. He picked the task of changing the gemstone accumulator at the closest power spot, took his knife, rifle, and backpack, and ran into the Bremor woods. After three weeks of driving, the cool breeze was a welcome relief, though it left him sweaty due to the previous lack of activity. The spot he chose was the closest one to the clan living areas ¨C the Ancient Stones ¨C imbued with earth magic. It was also the oldest one, and held sacred meaning for the clan. The flow of magic in the area caused the ground to become rocky and unstable, shifting large rocks around, swallowing some, and spitting out others. Although not immediately noticeable, the slow process proved useful to the early clan members for burying their dead. They developed a short and crude ritual, using simple words that allowed the earth to swallow the body quickly. Gemstone accumulators were discovered later, after the cemetery had already been formed. The use and the profit were too significant to let it remain just a magical graveyard. Logan first paid his respects to his ancestors by spilling a little whiskey on the stone-hard ground. Then, he gathered all the corundums, citrines, and quartz charged with earth magic. They were scattered all over the largest rocks, with a few of the rocks deliberately left vacant for meditation. However, Logan only knew of Duncan, who used to meditate in that area. One of the covered rocks shifted during the night, causing half of the gemstones on its top to slip to the ground. Most of them were half-sunk into the rocky ground already. Logan pried them out with his knife. According to the list, two were missing with no trace on the ground, and Logan considered it unproductive to dig around with his knife. He replaced the batch with the empty gemstones from his backpack and then headed home. In the past, he could practice shooting on the run. However, in the current atmosphere of heightened alertness, any shooting within the shooting range would alarm the clan members. After all, patience is one of the most useful characteristics for a hunter, and he had restored most of his during his rest. Additionally, the run was quick enough for him to still make it to the shooting range after submitting the charged batch of accumulators. Returning home, he felt a familiar faint whiff of expensive cologne in the lobby. He knew that cologne, and McLily knew he would recognize it. There were four hunters Bryan could visit here. As far as Logan knew, the other three were currently out of town. ¡°Take it easy,¡± Logan thought. ¡°It could be just a friendly visit.¡± Logan hadn''t been to the pub yet, and McLily was one of his best drinking buddies. Though it was much easier to arrange a meeting through the telephone. It wasn¡¯t a good sign, especially since McLily''s cologne was the strongest at Logan''s door. It was definitely a bad sign. ¡°Honey, I¡¯m home!¡± Logan said, putting a fake smile on his face. McLily¡¯s smell was also inside. They exchanged a few kisses and engaged in some meaningless small talk before Logan asked, "No one called me?" "No," Jenny answered quickly. "And no one came in?" "Ar-r-rgh!" Jenny growled, almost like a dog shifter would. "I suppose you sensed him already." Jenny hated McLily, as it was usually him who brought Logan his hunt orders. "He asked you for a pub tonight." "It¡¯s just a pub, honey." "It better be just a pub, Logan! This month, you are staying home! Am I clear?" "Yes, ma¡¯am." "I¡¯m not f-f...reaking joking, Logan!" she said furiously. "When we got married, we had a deal ¨C you hunt one-third of your time, not nine-tenths!" ¡°No, that was way before. Before werewolves kidnapped you!¡± ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s why I want you to be here for me and Joanna!¡± ¡°Honey!¡± Logan looked straight into Jenny¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯m going there because I don¡¯t want them to come here. I¡¯m there to eliminate the threat before it grows!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯m stupid, Logan Kincaid! I know this isn¡¯t just some local bickering; the war is coming! And when it does, you will leave us for years!¡± That was a direct hit. Logan couldn¡¯t bear her gaze and turned his eyes away. ¡°We need to get stronger.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a warlock, Logan. Those hunts don¡¯t make you stronger. They make you tired! They make you weaker! You told me you wanted to open your Third Eye. When was the last time you meditated?¡± It had been about four weeks ago. Logan preferred not to answer that question. ¡°Do you remember who saved you?¡± ¡°You did.¡± ¡°No-o!¡± Logan shook his head. ¡°First of all, it was Duncan. He came up with a crazy plan when I was whining and crying around. Then there were Bryce, Bryan ¨C whom you hate so much ¨C Nicholas, and many others, even bloody Sean Feron! I owe them, Jenny, with yours and Joanna¡¯s life. That means I owe them my life! I owe it to Bremor! If I can help the clan get stronger, I¡¯ll do it. Besides, when I go, Chloe and Tim will stay here. Your further protection will depend on them.¡± ¡°Yeah! After they protect their own families.¡± Logan tilted his head in disapproval. Yes, they will worry about their families first, just like any normal person would. But they¡¯d do everything possible to protect other Bremors. Jenny sighed. ¡°Sometimes I wish you were a simple accountant like your father,¡± she said and hugged Logan. He chuckled, hugging her back. His father was the clan head accountant, with professional connections spread deep into His Majesty¡¯s Treasury and wide across the Earth. He wasn¡¯t gifted, but he definitely wasn¡¯t simple. Gordon Muriel Kincaid wielded millions for the clan¡¯s benefit while still living in the same old house his father bought him as a wedding gift. Gordon was a humble man in his home life, which somehow deceived Jenny, but he was a real Bremor hunter in the world of finances. After some sweet hugging, Logan dialed McLily¡¯s home. With no answer, he had to call the Earl¡¯s secretary, as our Significant already had a little cabinet next to Bryce¡¯s, but no personal secretary yet. She set the drinking at 9 p.m., because ¡®mister¡¯ McLily was busy up to 8:30 p.m. Logan arrived there at 8:50 and took a seat at the bar. Eugene McLal, the owner and bartender, poured him a pint and asked about his last hunt. A couple of guys sat and stood closer to listen to the story. He kept it short, finishing in twenty minutes, just before McLily hurried in. His tweed suit was a little rumpled, just like his tired face. ¡°Logan,¡± he greeted, waving a thin paper folder in his hands. Just spotting it, Logan immediately dropped a couple of F-bombs in his mind but kept his face calm, just nodding, so Bryan continued. ¡°Pals, Eugene¡­ As usual.¡± ¡°Give your liver a break, boy,¡± Eugene said. ¡°It¡¯s not like you have a big choice here,¡± McLily responded. ¡°It¡¯s not like you should have dinner here every night.¡± ¡°Bollocks, Eugene.¡± Bryan was tired and angry ¨C not the best mood to listen to unwelcome advice. Eugene raised his hands in surrender, then poured McLily his pint. ¡°Your table is free,¡± the bartender said. ¡°Bloody hell, Bryan!¡± Logan said. ¡°A personal table in a pub? Isn¡¯t that a bit much?¡± ¡°Shut up, Logan,¡± he said, pointing with his paper folder toward the stairs. They sat at a corner table on the second floor, tucked behind the empty pool tables. No one was shooting tonight. McLily took a sip and slid the folder to Logan. ¡°No!¡± Logan said firmly and slid it back. ¡°I just got you out of the cell.¡± ¡°It only took you a couple of minutes on the phone, while you¡¯re asking me to take another week- or maybe month-long hunt.¡± ¡°Nope. I¡¯m asking you to spend a couple of minutes reading this.¡± It felt like a trap. McLily was good at guiding his interlocutors into sophisticated traps. ¡°Bollocks!¡± Logan said. Opening the folder felt like taking on another job. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± ¡°No,¡± Logan said. ¡°Tell me.¡± ¡°Sar County,¡± Bryan said and opened the folder himself. He ran his fingers through the paper forms, handwritten sheets, and photographs held together with paper clips. Bryan pulled out one large photo and slid it to Logan. ¡°Kathy Tower.¡± Logan sipped his beer and took a closer look. It wasn¡¯t a girl¡¯s picture; rather, it was a close-up of a mortal wound. The photographer hadn¡¯t cared for her face; only half of it was visible, with one glassy eye and half of her mouth with lips curved in horror. Her pale, bloodied neck dominated the center of the frame. The bite marks were messy but not lethal. Human jaws weren¡¯t so good at penetrating skin. However, there were also several thin, closely spaced, almost identical deep holes, suggesting that the murderer may have missed the carotid artery and had to bite again. ¡°It¡¯s a nestling,¡± Logan said, meaning, Why do you need me for this shit? Nestlings were newborn vampires: weak, unstable, and inexperienced. Without proper training and care, their chance of survival was close to zero. Shit, even the sun could easily burn them to death. Bryan nodded while sipping his beer. Eugene¡¯s daughter brought him a big plate full of fatty fries and sausages. ¡°Another beer,¡± he asked while his mug was only half empty and pounced on the food with enthusiasm that reminded Logan of himself. ¡°Jeez, Bryan. Do they feed you at all?¡± McLily didn¡¯t look unfed. He had even gained an extra pound if you looked closer. ¡°Bugger off, Logan,¡± he said, choking on food. ¡°Back to the deal.¡± He tossed Logan another photo of a happy young family: the young man, the dead girl, and the baby in swaddling. ¡°The man and the baby girl are missing.¡± Logan shut his eyes tightly. Raging anger surged in his stomach, and a low growl escaped his mouth. He felt his fangs ready to extend and pierce, his face on the brink of transformation. The despair of those days when he thought he had lost Jenny and his unborn child hit him hard once again. Somewhere in Sar County, a desperate bastard crouched, sickened by his transformation. He had murdered his wife and was now inevitably bound to harm his own baby. They always kill those who love first. In their sick craving for love and blood, it¡¯s almost impossible to distinguish between the two. ¡°Fuck you, Bryan!¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± McLily chuckled angrily. ¡°Hearing that a lot these days.¡± ¡°She¡¯s probably dead already.¡± ¡°Probably,¡± Bryan nodded. ¡°Send someone else.¡± ¡°You were in Sar; you worked with Kaufmann and Hemsworth.¡± Logan remembered Summer Hemsworth. She was a low-ranked agent in the Secret Service. ¡°Who the hell is Kaufmann?¡± he asked. ¡°Dave Kaufmann.¡± ¡°Hell no! I¡¯m not going to work with a vampire.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not. Just stay in touch. He is your vampire liaison there. You will work with Tim and Macy.¡± ¡°Are you f¡­!¡± Logan found himself pissed off. ¡°She hasn¡¯t claimed a vampire trophy yet, and it¡¯s going to be an easy hunt.¡± ¡°Easy? Secret Squirrels, bloodsuckers, a missing baby, so I assume there¡¯s a lot of press involved too. And not only do I have to hunt down a vampire, but I also have to manage it with the help of two overconfident youngsters.¡± ¡°You managed it well in Eggleston.¡± ¡°Fuck you, Bryan,¡± Logan said, throwing the photos back into the folder. He stood up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. ¡°Don¡¯t forget your reading,¡± McLily said, closing the folder and lifting it up. Logan snatched it out of his hands and left the pub.