Of Supernatural Origin

One: Will

One

Will

Will stepped back, looking down at the cork board. It had all her leads pinned to it, connected with electric blue string. The werewolf was taking a path, unlike a usual one. It was heading south along New Hampshire. First Berlin, then North Conway, and to Madison, where it'd bitten her mom. From what she could tell, its next stop would be Laconia. Cracking her neck, she slid the cork-board back into a spot beneath the trunk. There it was almost undetectable in a snug compartment. She had the handle covered with a bag containing clothes and toiletries. No one could tell it was there at all.

She slammed the trunk of the Jeep and got in the driver's side. As it was early spring and still chilly, the top was up and so were the windows. Will's red-and-white Westerman High letterman jacket draped over the seat. This left her in a black tank top, jeans, and black combat boots. She leaned back, speeding up once she got on the highway. She filled the hour-long drive to Laconia with classic rock and bad singing, all on her part.

                                                                                        ***

Two days later and she was sneaking into an abandoned old house, silver knife in hand. The place was almost all wood, except for the glass windows. Some of the back windows got boarded up. However, most were normal, to present a nice front to the public. On the outside, the house was still rather pleasant, a beautiful shade of ivory with dark blue shutters. Inside, it was a much different story. All the salvageable furniture was gone. This left a decrepit couch, a three-legged table, and the fireplace. It still held old, rotted wood and smelly ash.

It was day, not night, so the werewolf wasn't transformed. Will was counting on that. She was also counting on the monster being here. Despite the lack of furniture, the house's fireplace would provide heating. Also, it was a secluded place, as the nearest building was a storage unit five miles away. No one would discover a murder here for weeks.

There was nothing downstairs except rat poison and mold, so Will went upstairs. She stayed close to the wall, where the stairs would be the least creaky. She walked up the first few without incident, but the fourth one let out a loud creak. Dammit, now I'm caught, Will thought, but she kept moving. The rest of the stairs creaked, but much less.

After climbing the stairs without getting attacked by a heart-eating monster, it was time to walk down the hall. It was lit only by light from the other rooms. Most of the doors were open, except for the one at the end of the hall. It was different from the others as well. 'Whitewashed' described the other doors, but this one was dark brown. It was smattered with cracks and the odd bullet hole. Had she been less focused, Will would have wondered about it.

Knife at the ready and soft steps becoming even softer, Will walked towards the door. She reached out and twisted the handle, relieved when it didn't make a noise. She pushed it open, and came across something she didn't expect.

She found a boy by the name of Conner, hunched over in the middle of the room. He pressed his hand to his side, trying to stop too much blood from flowing onto the wood floor. A 9mm Browning pistol lay a few feet away from him, light glinting off the end. The window was broken where the werewolf jumped through and ran away. Will ran over to him.

"What the fuck happened?" she asked, pressing the silver knife against his arm. He looked up at her indignantly. Conner was trying to convey 'I'm bleeding, if you haven't noticed, and your help's needed. But no, you put a knife on my arm instead' but he failed. Will shrugged. "Just checking."