Wolf and Hood

1- Moonlight Madness

VINCENT WOLF suspected the weight of a life was about a large stone's worth – twenty pounds, give or take. That should do it.

He rolled the rocks into the dark frothy waters of New York's Hudson River with a large kerplunk. Watching the rope follow as he booted the oversized vulture tied to it. It hit with a satisfying plop. Inky feathers swallowed by the black water – two shadows reunited – as it disappeared, slowly dragged to the bottom.

Food for the fishes.

"Stupid buzzards." His brother Ryan kicked the second bird tied to another rock, teeth flashing in the dark with all the glee of two murderers, out for a late night dump at the docks. His mop of brown hair haloed by a boathouse light behind him like a violent angel.

They'd carried the bodies a short walk up from pier ninety-eight in the meatpackers district, just past where the boats pulled in. The midnight air tinged with the taste of salt and cod, as the toll of ship bells resounded in the distance. Lights flickered over the water like mechanical fireflies where ships anchored off piers on the far side of the river.

There was a time and place for these sorts of dastardly deeds – devilry under twilight and such. Decades of bloodshed and turf wars lay at the bottom of this watery boneyard, and now Vincent had added a few more. To any onlookers, dumping an over-sized bird carcass wouldn't be cause for alarm, beyond littering, and perhaps an animal rights protest. No one would know that they were magical creatures – shifters.

"Good thing these buzzards spent most of their time as birds. I hate it when they die in human form." Ryan wiped his hands on his dark jeans like they'd been diseased. "Foul, fowl." He snorted a laugh, impressed at his own witty joke.

Vincent was not. "We wouldn't be doing this at all if you'd been there to get the shipment when I told you."

"I was five minutes late!" Ryan whined. "And it's Roman's job anyway to grab the drugs. I'm busy making sure your company stays afloat with my big beautiful brain, okay? Just cause I have the muscles of a herculean god doesn't mean you get to abuse them." He wrapped his arms around himself in a display of scandalous mortification.

Vincent stared dead-pan. "I'm convinced you're adopted."

"I'll remember that the next time you ask me to dump a body."

"Hopefully, there won't be a next time."

New York City was home to several types of shifters: wolves, birds, bears, cats, the elusive dragons, and the odd variants – usually European – among other supernatural beings, that typically kept to themselves.

Most shifters preferred the woods of Colorado or mountains of Wyoming, any small town, really. But a stubborn few had stayed as cities and human populations grew around them, into concrete jungles. Finding solace in underground clubs and warehouses, where they could stretch their claws and fangs without fear or prejudice. Larger beasts adapted, shifting less and less, leaving the ledges of skyscrapers and back-alley streets to the birds and cats.