With Lodemai’s best sentinels lying in their own ash we were free to start the search for Peter. Tyler called up a few of his connections to try and track down his lost brother’s location but came up with nothing, except that there had been a strange number of random disappearances in a trail across the continent. Tyler realizing that his brother was probably lost to him, in some freak fertile rage, decided on Peter’s death. Zero believed that the only way to track down and kill Peter was with the nose of a lycan which Tyler agreed with.

According to him there was only one lycan who would be willing to help us, a humanity sympathizer named Wendigo. Luckily this legendary werewolf was in a place of power as the leader of the Silver Fang. The only real problem with approaching the great white lycan was the fact that a year ago Tyler killed a good friend of his, Lupus leader of the Black Mane, which made it hard to predict what his reaction might have been. This did not delay our meeting with him. Tyler called a few of his contacts and tracked down Wendigo’s current location. He was meeting with other pack leaders in a werewolf housing bar called “Craft Mark” located somewhere in Great Britain.

Tyler and I were the only of the group to walk into the Craft Mark. Inside there were two people, a bar tender and a man sitting at the bar with his back facing us. The floor, tables, ceiling, bar, and seats were all made with the same dark colored wood, polished to a sparkle. The bar tender scowled before going back to his business serving the customer another drink.

“Hunters I presume. I could smell your stink a day ago,” the man sitting at the bar said, before turning around in his stool to take a look at us. He was well dressed wearing a grey suit with a white under shirt and black tie to complement it all. His hair was black and gruffly groomed and his eyes shared its color. He took a shot of newly served whisky before speaking again.

“Do not think I can not smell the other three out there, two human males and a female dhampir. The woman has a mixture of ancient blood running thick through her veins. She must be Zero, making you the infamous Tyler and you Veation. Yes, I have heard of your past and current deeds and I must say that I am a bit impressed. You can call me Facetis leader of the Craft Walkers. But before we get too acquainted and I decide to rip the flesh from your bones, I must ask. What the hell are you doing in my bar?” the lycan said only making smooth jesters with the glass in his hand and elbow propped on the bar counter.

“I have come seeking Wendigo. Not for any bounty I assure you, just in need of a favor,” Tyler said calm and collected as always.

“I do not see what business you have with talking to the white one after killing Lupus. Shit, I can’t even see why you are talking to me but it isn’t my place to judge. I will take you to Wendigo and promise no werewolf under my command will harm you but I make no promise for Wendigo. That is his place,” Facetis said right before the bar tender dropped a massive plate topped with a stack of raw steak by his side. The well dressed lycan picked up the plate and began moving toward a set of doors located in the back of the bar.

“Follow!” I trailed behind Tyler, keeping my hand on my sword’s handle, ready to draw it at any sign of danger. The room we entered was dimmed but I could surprisingly see through its shade. The room was a long hallway lined with couches on each side. On the right there were classy clothed individuals who resembled Facetis in attire and movement. On the left sat a group who were dressed a bit homelier compared to their counter parts facing them. As we walked, our guide tossed the slabs of raw steak to the spectators. Some landed on the ground, others on laps. Their eyes gleamed and reflected light giving them a pale moon-like appearance as they drooled over their meal. With both hands they gripped them showing no table manners at the very least. They tore through the slabs with strong fists, biting viciously into the tender red meat with extended inhuman canines. We walked pass the feeding horde to a reinforced steel door. On either end, lying aimlessly as though on guard, were two fully transformed werewolves. Facetis patted one on the head, showing friendship, before signaling us to enter the steel door.

The room we found ourselves locked into, had been molded together with concrete, giving it an eerie trap-like appearance. It was darker than the hallway room before it. My nerves were a bit rattled but I had been to many “sit downs” so this was not anything new. From the shadows as though just entering from some invisible door, came a strong black man, whose skin had a gleaming complexion as though he had been rubbed down with cocoa butter. Scars from ancient history tattooed his entire body with stripes, which reminded me of Donavon.

“I did not expect to see you so soon, especially after slaying such a close friend of mine. Your stupidity and dumb luck as a head hunter are legend but such a gift as luck can not save you from your lack of judgment forever,” the dark man said in a low voice backed by power, giving away his identity.

“I come to ask you a favor,” Tyler stated trying to get to the point.

“A favor? How dare you come into my chamber with two lycan packs at my command to ask a favor? You take up a bounty for that nosferatu wench and expect me to lend an ear? Tyler, my boy, you are a fool. The only favor that will be dealt from my will to you is the chance to walk out of here and find another place to die,” the werewolf lord answered before taking a minute to hear the proposition. Tyler decided to mention the “favor” anyway.

“Yes Wendigo, Lupus the Black Mane is dead and I killed him but there are more pressing matters about us. I know the pack leaders sense it, or smell it, or taste it or how ever you lycan know everything. There is an abomination out there killing innocent people,” Tyler shouted into the stern face. The expression on Wendigo’s face dropped. Silence filled the room as he slowly slipped into conscious thought.

“I find it strange that a man, whose life is devoted to killing people for money could speak of death with even an ounce of sympathy. Yes, I have heard and sensed the coming of another abomination and I have also been informed it is your dear brother. Ask me this favor quick before I decide it is not worth my time.”

“I need you to lend me two of your best noses so that I may track down my brother. I do realize that if this is permitted by you I will be expected to kill him, which I am completely prepared to do,” Tyler stated with a quivering voice. The shape shifter paced back and forth. I could tell he was battling himself, wondering what decision to make. He turned to look Tyler in the face.

“So be it. I will bring this issue up for review to the council in our next moot. The meeting will be complete in three days, so stick around. I will find you and notify you of the council’s ruling. That is the best I can do.”

After a short goodbye, Tyler and I left the bar to meet up with the others. We told them of the events, which took place inside the Craft Mark. Other than Tyler, we were all relieved that we had some time to finally get some rest, taking dominion in an extremely expensive hotel. My suite had a personal bar, which was strange since there was a public bar on the room’s velvet carpet. I took a few shots of whisky and lit a cigarette knocking my ash on the silk bed sheets. A black envelope with trimming which shimmered a metallic yellow was pushed under my door, catching my attention. I picked it up and with my drunken eyes saw that is was addressed to me. Inside was a letter with only “Meet me on the third floor in an hour, I will always be watching you”, written on it.

My eyes drew up from the letter to look upon the door, someone was knocking. Standing in the hallway completely out of character, wearing a red satin dress, was Zero. The dress extended to the top of her knees. Her hair was tied into a bun, held together with crimson ribbons. I could smell liquor lingering about her, mixed in with a lovely scented perfume.

After taking a trip to the elevator, I found myself sitting at the bar smoking another cigarette with Zero smiling at me. It was strange. I had never seen her like this nor had I heard of such behavior through her reputation. The bar was illuminated by hundreds of dimmed florescent lights. The lights shone from the ceiling like star-shaped diamonds. On stage some drunken bitch sang about how her husband left her with five kids for some crack whore but I was not really listening. The hundred lights could be seen reflecting off of Zero’s eyes. We talked about our lives at little bit but that was not very interesting. Bounty hunters keep to themselves; it is a defense mechanism.

“How long you been in the business?” She asked before downing a shot of vodka.

“You mean bounty hunting?” I stacked on another question.

“Yes.”

“I am not very sure. I suppose a long time. It is just that I cannot really remember much before that, just a flashback here and there. What about you? I mean being immortal and all; you must have been doing this a long time,” I asked and answered just to keep the conversation going. She fell mute, looking almost embarrassed or nervous. I quickly recovered from the awkward position I had placed us in, with another question.

“Is it possible for me to get your real name?”

“You can call me Alice,” she drew out with her fangs and pushed to me with her lips. Alice stared seductively at me, which translated into reality as “she had too much to drink”. I fought my drunkenness off, telling myself “You never go to bed with a vamp”. She walked off leaving her skirt trailing behind her as though in a breeze. She looked at me one more time signaling me to follow and then she was gone. I did not follow, just sat there and ordered another round of drinks.

On the stool beside me appeared a darkly dressed youthful man. His black hair stretched to his shoulders and his being was draped in a long black trench coat. I looked at him through the corner of my eye; I could see he was staring at me, which made me a bit uncomfortable. My head turned toward him, my vision drunker than Listerine.

“Why the fuck are you staring at me!” I shouted. My first impulse after taking a look at him was that he was a vampire or more specifically a sentinel assassin sent by Lodemai. My hand reached into my jacket to grab my pistol. My arm automatically aimed up connecting my eye sight with his head, and the barrel of my gun in-between them both but he vanished, leaving me pointing a gun toward a bar stool.