When I entered my uncle’s house, I headed directly for his office. This wasn’t the house I grew up in. After my great-grandfather retired, he gave his house to my uncle. He said it was important that he have a more official place to oversee the clan. My aunt wasn’t thrilled about giving up her house, but she didn’t push back.
On entering the office, I found my great-grandfather and my uncle waiting for me. They were discussing something intently but stopped as soon as I entered. Though I had the distinct impression that it was me they were discussing, I didn’t press anything. The business of the leaders of the clan wasn’t my business.
“I’m packed and ready to go,” I said as I stood a respectful distance from them.
My great-grandfather, the once patriarch of our clan, peered at me through his spectacles. His face was weathered and lined, a testament to the wisdom he had acquired over the years. His once-vibrant eyes now held a somber gaze, as if burdened by the weight of countless decisions.
“This is different from all the other missions we’ve sent you on, Bailey. You won’t be working alone or with another member of our clan. A lone hunter asked for assistance and all the information he gave about the werewolf he’s after made us think it was possible this is the wolf that killed your family,” Uncle Peter replied solemnly.
Though I’d made some flip comments earlier about the information going back and forth between several wolves and a single wolf, the look in Uncle Peter’s eyes told me this was much more serious. He really thought this was the wolf who killed my sister and parents.
I looked at my great-grandfather. He was stone still, just watching over everything with that cool expression he often had. It felt like one of his tests. Great-grandfather always told me I was too emotional, too irrational. I needed to stop feeling and start thinking. He would tell me it was the reason I still hadn’t found my family’s killer.
But now, as I stood before him, I could sense a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, the kind that made me wonder if there was more to his strict demeanor than met the eye. Perhaps, deep down, he understood the pain that had driven me all these years.
“I understand,” I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within me. “If there’s a chance to find justice for my family, I won’t hesitate. Just tell me where to go.”
“Is that your heart or your head talking?” my great-grandfather asked.
“My head. My heart wants to go in, guns blazing, and shoot anything that moves. On the other hand, my head is saying I need to get all the information, find out what is needed of me, and complete my task. It will serve a dual purpose of getting justice for my family and helping out a fellow hunter to protect the world from the monsters,” I replied.
My great-grandfather nodded approvingly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Very well, Bailey,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of pride and caution. “You have learned well. Your determination is commendable, but remember, emotions can cloud the mind when it comes to matters like these. Stay focused and rely on your instincts.”
Uncle Peter stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm, reassuring. “Bailey, I’ve arranged for you to meet the lone hunter in question. His name is Ianto Thornwood, and he has been tracking this werewolf for weeks. He believes the wolf might be a threat to humans in the area where it’s trying to settle.”
“Am I working under an alias other than using the family surname?” I asked.
“You will be. The Thornwood clan was wiped out by that wolf pack that hunts hunters. Only a handful survived and none of them stuck together afterward. I don’t know the names of the survivors, but I don’t want him finding you if something goes sideways. It’s better if he comes after the clan. You will be called Marilyn Damson, after your cousin who we lost recently in a raid. Use Mari’s name well, Bailey,” Uncle Peter told me.
He handed me a manila envelope with my cousin’s ID and a file folder containing pictures and pages of information. I looked at Mari’s ID. She and I looked similar. She was about five years younger than me and wasn’t able to have kids, so she started hunting early. We were close.
Of the people in the clan who could be related to me by blood, Mari was one of my favorites. I missed her. She used to tell me that she knew my family was proud but also that they didn’t want this life for me. She wanted me to leave as soon as I got my revenge. Mari was saving up to go with me, too. I hated that she was gone.
“Mari would have wanted you to take on her name. She wanted you to be successful.”
I nodded as I looked into the deadpan photograph on the little piece of plastic. There were a few other cards. Credit and debit cards under Mari’s name to help me pay my way while I was hunting. I would leave behind anything that identified me as Bailey Walker and would only be Mari Damson until the contract was done.
The weight of the responsibility settled on my shoulders as I took a deep breath and tucked the envelope securely into my jacket pocket. Uncle Peter’s words echoed in my mind, urging me to stay focused and rely on my instincts. This was it. The moment I had been waiting for. The moment to avenge my family and bring justice to those we had lost.
With renewed determination, I turned to Uncle Peter and nodded. “I understand, Uncle. I’ll assume the identity of Mari Damson and do whatever it takes to find this werewolf and stop it from causing further harm.”
Uncle Peter’s eyes softened with a mixture of pride and concern. “Be safe. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
I smiled softly at him and nodded a final time. My great-grandfather huffed. That made me almost smile more. It was such a familiar sound that I couldn’t help the urge.
With a wave, I left the office and went to load my car. I would leave tonight and grab a motel room in a few hours. I wanted to get to Michigan and finish what that monster started twenty years ago.