Believe, Glynis Rankin [classic literature list .txt] 📗

Acknowledgements

I would like to especially thank Sean Patrick Lee.

He gave me his time, lent his expertise, and educated me with his editing skills.

I have learned so much from your insightful pen Patrick that I doubt I could ever repay you in a life time. So like you I will play it forward.

You were the answer to a prayer, thank you.

 

 

 

  

Prologue

“Woohoo! ”   An excited Texan's voice pierced David Manx's earpiece. “Time to lasso us a Werewolf!”  The FBI agent tried not to flinched at the sudden sound while he gazed over at what held his boss attention. 

 Special Agent in Charge Clyde Barton showed no emotion to the outburst; instead his brown eyes were captivated by the green door of room 236.

The motel was neither the best nor the worst of them that Agent Manx has seen in his years with the agency.  It’s different, because there’s just one vehicle occupying the parking lot at this late hour.

 The agents had positioned their trucks out of view of the motel but stayed in the general area to monitor the activity of the op. Barton directed him to park their black Explorer on the north side of the building, downwind and away from the motel. "We're ready on this end Boss."

The night was silent, when a cat shrieked before its telling hiss. Then someone, somewhere slammed a door. “Cats don’t like Werewolves,” the same voice told Manx as Barton led the way to the green door. “It’s that whole dog, cat thing.”

Barton flushed his long, lean frame against the wall. Those eyes  waited until Manx took his position on the other side.  He signaled ready with a nod with his hand on the knob.

Manx nodded back.

 Barton gave it a twist and the door opened without protest.  He frowned before stepping across the threshold.

A man had to trust if he’s going through a door with you, but Manx knew this wasn’t the case with Barton.  He knew this was his chance to redeem himself after the New Mexico job, perhaps his only chance.

  Six years as an agent, before joining ISBI, Barton and his team were schooling Manx in areas that they hadn’t taught him in the academy.  It’s as if he’s going through boot-camp again.

Barton’s reputation for fearlessness preceded him.  Because no seasoned officer went through a door blind with a rookie at his back.

Manx didn’t hesitate, he followed Barton’s led and step through the door.

                                                                                ~~

There’s nothing out of the ordinary about the narrow hallway that Barton took with a brisk pace. Unless you counted the long smears of fresh blood against the dingy white walls or the thick, red clots on the already stained carpet. Manx kept pace, not wanting to be trapped with a werewolf in a confined space.

The door had opened without a sound, but closed with a final click.  Why didn’t you catch the door, Manx chastised himself, that’s a rookie mistake. But self-consciously he knew why.

Barton turned. Even through the gas mask, Manx saw his stern scowl. Messages sent, he spun back to proceed down the hall.

The overpowering smell of decaying flesh seemed to seep into his mask to flood Manx senses. Staring at the amount of blood loss, he gagged at the imaged stench, but held it down. 

Barton stopped halfway down the hall, pointing to indicated which way he wanted Manx to go once things started.

Manx nodded, watching as the ASAC raised his hand to begin the countdown.   The sound of a squeaky floorboard broke the stillness and  accounted for the frantic  throbbing of his heart in his ears.

On three, Barton mouthed.  Manx braced himself.

The sound of shattering glass followed by a hard thud greeted him with the telltale hiss from a leaking canister. The room filled fast with a thick blue cloud of Wolf’s bane.

“Fuck!” someone coughed.

In a mad dash to flee the intoxicating fumes, the werewolf showed himself in the doorway, soaked in blood.

“He’s up!” Barton yelled.

The amount of Wolf’s bane spewing from that can should’ve put  Pauli Keys on his back, but he was up, staring at them with  hate  flaming  in his yellowish-green eyes.

“Feds.” The word disgorged from his distorted mouth along with blood and bits of flesh.

The plan had gone awry.

“Going hot!” the Texan chirped.

                                                                    ~~

The creature had surprised Manx in New Mexico, after the buildup about the frightening and vicious Werewolves. It was anticlimactic to see a disheveled, skinny man, who’s far shorter than Manx and much less intimidating than Barton had led him to believe.  That’s why he’d underestimated the creature, not this time.

“Damn Feds,” Pauli growled.

“You’re done Pauli,” Barton words muffled behind the mask.

 Manx kept his weapon drawn on the man that looked like an addict.

“I ain’t.”  He went low.

“Don’t do it, don’t!” Barton yelled.

 Pauli rushed them.

 They fired, but Pauli moved with the speed of his distant ancestor, their rounds whizzed by missing him by inches. He leveled through the agents as if a running-back, heading to the goal line. They were down, but Barton managed to fire again just as Pauli exited the door striking him in the arm.

“Eyes on?” He got to his feet, yanking off the mask, giving chase. Manx at his side..

“He’s heading for the rig Boss!”  the Texan told them.

They were already out of the room and running through the lot. "On him!'

 

                                                                         ~~

It was fear that kept Pauli going.

Coughing from Wolf’s bane in his lungs, he still managed to dart around trying to avoid getting hit again while racing to his rig.

“Stop Pauli!”  Barton  fired a, .45 caliber round laced with small amounts of quicksilver, just enough to slow down a werewolf, but not kill.

 One caught Pauli in the right shoulder. The force of Barton’s Glock would’ve dropped a man, but the werewolf just howled in pain. He stumbled forward a few feet, taking him off stride, but he got his bearings and was off again.

The silver slowed his progress enough to allow them time to catch up.

“Stop!” Barton yelled. He aimed the powerful weapon at the man’s head. Pauli continued to stagger forward. “I said stop!”

He finally stopped, holding his injured arm. “I ain’t done nothing’ wrong!” Pauli bellowed. He tilted to one side. “She was already dead, ain’t a man got to eat.”

“Tell it to someone who cares! Now turn around, time to go back.”

The man’s shoulders sagged.

“Slow Pauli; don’t make me shoot you again.”

To Manx, it looked as if Pauli would collapse from the silver and blood loss. The injured man bowed his head and nodded, his voice defeated. “Okay.”

Barton gestured to Manx.  

 Manx kept his weapon drawn,advancing on the werewolf slowly taking the thick silver handcuffs off his belt. He was a few feet away when suddenly Pauli turned.

“No!”  He made the move so fast that either of them had time to react.

 

                                                                 ~~

 

 Pauli ran straight at Barton. “I ain’t going back!”

The agent tried to fire, but his gun jammed.  “Shit!”   He hurried to chamber another round as the beast drew near.  “Put him down!”

Manx froze.

He stared in horror as the man’s human face transformed into a long narrow maul. In one leap, the man Pauli jumped over Barton’s head. What landed was a large hairy ferocious half-beast , half-man that ran on all fours toward the undergrowth on the side of the hotel.

Barton chambered another round and fired but missed the fast moving creature. “Goddamnit, he's running!”

Manx snapped out of his daze. “Got’em Boss.” He took a shooter’s stance, firing twice at the animal before it disappeared in the shadows of the brush.

“Status!”  Barton ran toward the undergrowth, Manx  flanked him.

The thicket grew darker the further they traveled.  They were hindered by the dense group of bushes and trees which the creature ran through with ease. Manx noticed with great dread that they were losing ground with each passing footfall. We’re going to lose him.

“We got him!” Another teammate’s voice spoke through the earpiece. “He’s heading straight for us.”

“Is he still lit in this form?” Barton voice was neutral.

“He’s bright as the morning jewel, Boss.” the Texan again.

They had managed to plant a tracker on the Werewolf in New Mexico despite Manx’s  failure to capture the creature. They followed the beacon as it led them across the country to this motel. Barton got local FBI agents to evacuate staff and residents without alerting their suspect.  To capture beasts with senses twenty times better than a wolf and much faster, Barton’s agents had become proficient at capturing them. Becoming the silence and stealth of a hungry cat.

“Be ready!” Barton told his team.

Manx matched his mentor’s pace until they reached the other side of the small undergrowth. He was eager to make amends for his past mistakes.  They emerged from the bushes and he realized it was over.

The silvery glow of the full moon splashed against the night sky in a beautiful fusion of light and dark that glimmered off the two black vans with government plates. They were parked a few feet from where Pauli, the man, laid on the ground nude, ensnared, and bleeding.

Other ISBI agents stood over the shrill man laughing and taking pictures of their prize like hunters on a safari, Manx reasoned with a sense of pang to his ego.

 

                                                                          ~~

 

Barton pushed his way through the group of agents. “How is he?”

“Unconscious, minor wounds that are already healing, he’ll live.” The Texan told him.

“The tracker worked even in wolf form?” Barton sat back on his haunches to check the implant.

“Like a charm Boss. Those Mason’s really know their gadgets.”

Barton stared at Pauli with a dispassionate eye. “Good job.”

Manx took a knee to catch his breath. Every FBI agent was fit, but he’d never had to chase after a werewolf before or any wolf for that matter.

He stared at Barton. It’s evident, in his heightened awareness, intense brown eyes, flushed skin, and controlled breathing, that this man loves the thrill of the hunt.

“This was easy Boss.” The Texan grinned.

“Like taking milk from a baby,” added another.

“Alright,  get him prepared for transport.” Barton got to his feet. “Seal off the motel, get a cleaner in that room; you know the drill.”

“Yeah Boss.” The agents rushed off to complete the tasks.

Barton turned to Manx. He got to his feet, fast.

The Special Agent approached him wearing his trademark firm expression. “Go, and let Medical take a look at you. They need to check for any scratches, bites, or cuts.”

“Yeah Boss.”

Barton paused. Manx knew he’d messed up again. There wasn’t any excuse for not doing the job, but seeing a 90 pound man, change into a 250 pound beast was something his brain couldn’t handle.

“You froze back there, just when things got hot.” Barton added.

“Sorry Boss.” He had no explanation other than fright.

“The job is dangerous enough without an agent freezing.”

Barton told him the first day, that he wanted to test how well he’d react in the midst of a real life situation. “It’s always best to see if a recruit