Chapter 1

Beast Case Scenario

Chapter 1: Beast Case Scenario

Mid-June 2013

It wasn’t a dumpster fire. It was a dumpster inferno. In the parking lot of The Edgy Veggie, behind the fast food restaurant, three massive black shaggy dogs hurled themselves at the burning dumpster.

The pungent odor of the burning garbage mingled with the rotten egg smell of the hellhounds and even with the drive-thru window shut, the noxious, smoky odor drifted through the barely visible cracks.

The trio’s snapping jaws savaged the fiery trash. They devoured the blazing contents like their lives depended on it.

Two days ago, when Wendell Batty went to The Edgy Veggie to try out the vegetarian fast food joint’s new line of carrot hot dogs, he didn’t expect to encounter demonic dogs. Let alone ones gorging themselves on dumpster trash.

“Thanks for coming back, Wen,” said a stick-thin human-passing fire Elemental wearing an Edgy Veggie uniform and a name tag that read Joey. “I didn’t think you would. So many people say they’ll do something, but never actually do. No offense.”

“None taken,” Wendell said.

“It’s their third time here this week,” Joey said.

His face was studded with white pus-filled pimples, his eyes were bloodshot and watery, and every few minutes, violently purple snot dribbled down his chalky white face — telltale signs of a fae drug addict, just like Wendell’s twin brother, Wylan.

“The police are starting to think it’s arson,” Joey continued. “They’ll want to do an investigation, and shit guys, I need this job. My DONHE case manager is on my ass enough as it is.”

The Department of Non-Human Entities was the legal organization that kept all of the creatures and monsters across the United States in check.

If Wylan was urgently looking for help, Wendell knew he’d want whoever was there to do just that.

It was what had Wendell break his keep-your-head-down-don’t-get-involved-in-other-people’s-shit rule that kept him safe. That kept him from becoming another one of the thousands of dead werewolves.

“Have you tried anything to get them away?” Wendell asked Joey.

“Uh, no! Look at them!” Joey cried. “If I go out there, I’m dead meat.”

One of the hellhounds got too close to another. He snarled and snapped his teeth in warning.

This time, Wendell didn’t come alone. He recruited his best friend, Aurora Dark, to be his backup.

“We’re not sending you out there. Don’t worry,” She said reassuringly.

“I need to get them into the center, right there,” Wendell pointed at the chalk-drawn spot in the parking lot. It was several feet away from the fiery dumpster. “Once we get them into the boundaries I drew, they won’t be able to escape.”

When they arrived less than half an hour ago, Wendell drew the boundaries for a witch’s containment spell. He meticulously followed every step of the ritual while the hellhounds scarfed down on flaming trash.

It wasn’t easy to do while in the vicinity of three murder mutts capable of ripping his face off his head. But because he was a werewolf and had accelerated healing, he insisted on doing the deed. Aurora, for all her courage, was a squishy, easy-to-kill human.

“I need to bait it now,” Wendell said as he held up a heavy tote bag.

He broke another one of his stay-safe-head-down rules. He went to the Midnight Market, a hub for all things monster and non-human, to get everything he needed to capture the hellhounds. From a custom witch-crafted containment spell to a demon attractant whiskey, candle, matches, and a bowl to put it in.

Not only was Wendell’s pride hurting, but his wallet was too.

“I’ve got your back,” Aurora said steadfastly. She had two diversions ready to go if the hellhounds decided to launch an attack against Wendell.

They practiced them in Wendell’s backyard the day before to the point where they could do it in their sleep. It was good. Better to be overprepared than underprepared, Wendell always said. He was a former Boy Scout after all.

Outside, the putrid smell of the fiery dumpster and hungry hellhounds hit Wendell like Wylan’s punch to the face did. With one hand, he held the bag of everything he needed to lure the hellhounds into the containment trap. The other, he clapped over his nose to smother the stench. He was really feeling the effects of his werewolf-enhanced sense of smell.

The sounds emanating from the dumpster matched the stink. The guttural noises of the damned dogs and the metallic clanging and banging from the sides of the dumpster served as a shield, muffling the sounds of Wendell as he crept into the middle of his chalk-drawn boundary.

He put the dish down, sloshed the drink into it, and lit the candle with a strike of the special match. He lowered the candle and poked the flame into the liquid. The liquid inside caught the spark and blasted up a column of fire. The contents inside bubbled and boiled as the blue-white fire burned.

Wendell whistled a loud, piercing whistle.

The three hellhounds froze. In unison, they growled and spun around to face Wendell. Their black lips peeled back to show quivering, saliva-dripping, yellowed teeth.

“Drink up!” With a swift kick, he pushed the burning bowl to cover the tiny chalk asterisk he had drawn.

All six of their red eyes locked onto the dish, and their snouts loudly sniffed the air. They yipped, grunted, and snapped their teeth. Wendell sprinted out of the boundary at the exact moment the trio charged forward.

With eyes only for their burning brew, they jostled together in a row, their thick black tongues greedily lapped up the blue-white flames. Completely checked out from Wendell, and clueless to their fate, the hellhounds were focused only on fighting for a chance to slurp up the burning brew.

The water that sprayed out from their aggressive drinking flecked the fur on their faces with tiny flames that burned for a moment, then flickered out into lines of hazy black smoke.

Wendell recited the containment spell words. Sheer, shimmery waves, like heat haze over roads on a scorching summer day, rose. Instead of thickly solidifying like a glass box, the tall barrier that encased the hellhounds into the space Wendell drew had the texture of spider webs and glittered like Christmas tree tinsel.

Just like they rehearsed the night before, Aurora used the restaurant phone to confirm to the owner of a cryptid sanctuary that all three hellhounds were contained and ready for pick up.

“She’s finishing up with wrangling a rogue Kelpie in upstate New York. Do you think they’ll be fine like this?” Aurora asked skeptically as she followed Wendell back to his car.

“The Crenshaw witches know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t give me a dollar store containment spell,” Wendell said, wiping his glasses. “I trust them.”

Even though his lycanthropy sharpened his vision, Wendell still chose to wear his glasses, just like he did back when he was twelve.

“Breakfast for lunch?” Wendell pitched as he sat into the driver’s seat.

“You’ve earned it,” Aurora said, sliding into the passenger’s seat next to him, breathing easy for the first time during this Operation Stop the Hellhounds.

At the Crescent Diner, as Wendell and Aurora claimed their favorite booth, Dani, came around the corner. Her glossy brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail and tied off with a ribbon.

“Banana chocolate chip pancakes and soy bacon?” Dani asked Wendell as she adjusted her apron and readied her order pad.

“Maybe I wanted waffles and soy sausage,” Wendell grinned.

“Don’t get too wild and crazy on me, Wen,” Dani smirked. “Your usual Aurora?”

Aurora nodded, and Dani scribbled both of the orders onto the pad. Even though the head line cook, Dani’s younger brother, knew Aurora’s and Wendell’s orders by heart, the diner kitchen was always bustling at this time of day.

“Something’s going on, Auri. It’s not normal for hellhounds to spend time in human areas, let alone for them to scavenge and dumpster dive like they’re starving stray dogs,” Wendell frowned.

“Do you think it has anything to do with that special Super Blood Moon that’s coming next month?” Aurora asked. “There hasn’t been a moon like this one in … how long?”

“Twenty years,” Wendell said solemnly, rubbing his foot against his left ankle.

Maybe he made a mistake helping Joey with the hellhound situation. It was just that Joey reminded Wendell so much of Wylan. But now maybe he’d be paying for it.

“So how’s it going with Saoirse?” Wendell asked, desperate to get the subject far away from estranged twins, demonic dogs, and blood moons.

Dani came back with a huge platter of homefries and drinks for Wendell and Aurora.

“Yeah, how is that going?” Dani echoed.

As usual, Dani played matchmaker and was the one who tried to hook Aurora up with Saoirse.

“It’s over. Over before anything started, to be honest,” Aurora sighed. “She’s a Selkie. It never would’ve worked out anyway. They never stay in one place for long, and there’s no way I’d keep her coat under lock and key. It’s too messed up. Plus, I may or may not have caught her doing some very illegal things.”

“Please don’t tell me you reported her to Wedge and DONHE,” Dani groaned.

There were different DONHE divisions in each state, and one of the top officers in their state, Connecticut, was Officer Aoife McLaughlin Wedge.

“I miiiiight’ve worked with her on said case,” Aurora said.

“You did not!” Dani groaned.

“Speak of the devil,” Wendell muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Dani groped around the counter by the register and wildly spritzed herself with peach-scented perfume.

“She’s a banshee, not a bloodhound!” Aurora whispered.

“Still!” Dani spritzed herself more. “Can’t be too careful.”

Dani was an unregistered were-cat. It was something that Wendell and Aurora knew and kept between the three of them. The second DONHE got word of Dani, Dani’s life would never be the same again.

The outlook might not be as dire if Aoife knew Aurora and Wendell were best friends, but it wasn’t a chance Wendell was willing to take.

He hurriedly scooted out of the booth, pushing both drinks and homefries in front of Aurora. He slid into a different booth a few feet away, busying himself with wiping his glasses and pretending he was looking through the vast menu.

“We got her,” Aoife said, sliding into Wendell’s spot in the booth opposite Aurora, none the wiser to the werewolf that just vacated it. “Saoirse O’Sullivan is in custody.”

The Selkie wasn’t just Aurora’s failed date.

Saoirse was an artist with a penchant for making sculptures out of the natural coastal materials and trash she picked up from the beaches around where she docked her houseboat.

A self-professed gallery enthusiast, Saoirse also had a case of sticky fingers and a taste for stealing art. With her shameless, unapologetic thievery, she nearly made off with some ancient pottery that was on special display at the local museum, where she hosted a mini gallery showing.

Dani lingered a few feet away. If she had cat ears in her human form, Wendell knew she’d have them perked up and rotated towards where Aurora and Aoife sat.

“She had a compartment to smuggle the pottery in her houseboat, didn’t she?” Aurora asked.

“Ye were bang on. It was exactly where ye said it would probably be. Ye didn’t step foot on it? Not even once?” Aoife asked suspiciously. Her perpetually ruddy cheeks took away some of the seriousness of her expression.

“Not even once,” Aurora said.

Aurora was mildly clairvoyant. She inherited her supernatural sight from her grandma, who also worked with DONHE before her death.

Every time Aurora was supposed to go over to the houseboat, Saoirse kept blowing her off. Aurora kept that to her and Wendell though. Aoife didn’t need to know about her conquests. Especially the ones that woefully failed. Which, honestly, was all of them lately.

“Well, as much as I appreciate yer cracking citizen detective work with Saoirse, next time report the hellhounds to us. Yes. I did hear about that,” Aoife said, twisting her curly, ginger hair into a tighter bun.

“A friend was in trouble,” Aurora said innocently, “And I knew the cryptid sanctuary had the space for a pack of hellhounds.”

“Aye, that’s all well and dandy, Aurora, but ye need a permit to do witchcraft in areas with a highly concentrated human population. I’d say The Edgy Veggie’s parking lot fits that assessment, don’t ye?” Aoife said, pointing a bobby pin from her hair at Aurora before sticking it back into her bun. “Some might say ye’d be interfering with DONHE.”

Despite her words, there was a twinkle of amusement in Aoife’s blue eyes. “Mind yerself, Aurora. Something strange is brewing out there,” she said, rising from the booth and making her exit.

Wendell counted to a hundred to make sure the banshee officer was actually gone. He scooted out of his booth and slid back into the bench across from Aurora.

“Well, that was intense,” Dani said. “You were just thanked and threatened in the same breath.”

“She’s right, though,” Wendell said, tapping his lip in thought. “Not about needing a permit. Witchcraft rules and permits don’t apply to werewolves. I don’t think DONHE believes we’re smart enough to know how to do them and get the materials. No. Wedge’s right that something strange is happening. I can feel it.”

* * *

Back at Wendell’s house, Aurora gathered up her things from the night before. Turns out having sleepovers with your best friend when you’re both in your thirties is just as fun, if not even more, than it is when you’re in your teens.

“Mary messed with your curtains again,” Aurora giggled, trying to fix them.

“She’s relentless. She doesn’t listen to a word I say either,” Wendell rolled his eyes. “She’s a lot like Wylan in that way.”

“How is he?” Aurora asked gently.

“I haven’t heard from him since he broke in, robbed me, and punched me in the face on our 31st birthday last year. He even stole my birthday cake,” Wendell said dryly. “He’s out there somewhere making more terrible decisions and setting his own dumpster fires left, right, and center. I don’t care if I never see him again.”

Wendell did care. A lot. But it felt better in the moment to take a leaf out of Wylan’s book and take a fuck-you approach.

“Hey, Wen, speaking of seeing someone you’d rather not,” Aurora froze in front of the window with the curtains she fixed. “Why is your husband peeing in your backyard?”

“Ex-husband!”

“He finally signed the divorce papers?” Aurora gasped.

“Almost ex-husband,” Wendell sighed. “Let’s see what he wants this time.”

Wendell and friends will return in Chapter 2 on Friday November 7th!