Of Wolf and Man (version 2 Chapter 1

Micheal Casselman thought he had lived a hard life over the past twenty years.  When he was twelve his mother and father were brutally murder by hunters, leaving him orphaned.  He spent six years bouncing from foster home to foster home, turned away by families not really quite able to handle a child with his unique abilities.  He was picked on and teased through out school, first for being small and meek, then once puberty hit, for being so over six and a half feet tall and muscular.  The first real show of compassion he received was when his best friend, Afriag, asked his father to help him.  Due to Demitri Valmont’s intervention Micheal was awarded his family home at the age of 18, but it had become a rundown and hollow shell of the home he remembered.  Micheal had problems finding a job at first, which made it difficult to keep food in his house, let alone have the lights on.  But he even overcame that finaly opening his own garage at the age of 19 on his land nearest to the highway.  Still at 20 the only family he really had was his few friends, and even then he was alone amongst them, what with being the only werewolf in the low country of South Carolina.  All those seem to be non-issue today after the week long hell he stared at the casket in front of him, the one holding the youngest brother of his best friend.

         Micheal sat staring at the long silver box hover above the grave in front of him.  Demitri had insisted he sit with the family, stating that William was as much his brother as he was Afriag’s.  The black Armani suit that had been given to him by Demitri felt uncomfortable, and confining around his near seven foot form.  His cursed himself for not tying his hair back as the wind picked up causing it to whip around wildly.  His blue eyes stared straight forward as he tried to ignore the conversations his highly sensitive ears picked up. Mourners muttered about his best friend’s absence, and his placement at the proceedings.  Even he wondered at what Afriag could be doing that was more important than his youngest brother’s funeral.  Micheal could not help but fill a cold chill when he’d glace at the face of the mourning father beside, not due to rage or pain but to th lack there of.  Demitri’s face was a black slate, no emotion what so ever showing as the pastor drolled on about death at some early age.  William’s other brother Omen was all to readable rage and tourment practacly a tangible essence bleeding off of him, but from Demitri there was nothing, as there had been since the body was found a week ago, though had it not been for the nose of one werewolf it may never have been.

         The sun was unusually warm and the early November day, but this was South Carolina, so was the weather ever really normal.  The small cemetery was just off Brick Chimney road in Georgetown South Carolina, about 60 miles from the Valmont home on Daniel Island, but Demitri said it was tradition and that William had always loved it here.  He remembered at times going with Afriag to take William to see the boats in the harbour during the summer.  And the time they had all taken a ride on the Jolly Rover a old tall ship kept historically accurate for tours of the coastal and in-land waters.  There were exactly the same tours in Charleston, in fact more of them, but William was obsessed with the history in the town just sixty miles north of his home.  The town that would now be his final resting place.




         In his mind Micheal tried to piece together the events that led to this tragic event.  How could the intuitive and inteligent twelve year old boy he had watch growing up with his friends be the same mangled body he had pulled from the marsh three days ago? Why hadn’t he been able to do more, he was a werewolf right? Why didn’t he find William when there was still time to save him? 

         William had always been one to follow routine, so it set everyone into alarm at the fact he was missing for more than a hour with no cause.  Micheal and his friend Simon began running around town checking all the bookstore while Afriag and Omen, went searching cemetarys.  William had a tendency to get lost in his studies and as his history class had a report due on the civil war they thought maybe he was doing grave rubbings, something Simon had turned him on too.  With in hours the police were involved and Micheal was trying to pickup a trail. 
On the second day Micheal followed Williams scent from the last place he had been seen it was difficult because with so many people around he couldn’t change into a wolf, and the k9’s the police officers used were easily distracted. The police were just as easily distracted and it wasn’y long before Micheal was able to shift forms and begin a real search.  Simon stayed close by in his van so that should anybody notice a huge wolf roaming the streets of downtown Charleston, he had a place to hide and put his clothes back on. Still the sent kept leading him to dead ends as if some one was trying to mask the true location of the child. 
         Afraig was driving the van on the fourth day when a breeze from the harbour blew in carrying the sent of William and also the sent of death.  Simon called 911 claiming they had seen someing in the marsh while crossing the Ravenel Bridge while Micheal and Afriag raced towards the northern coast of the harbour.  Micheal stoped short realizing that he didn’t hearing Williams heartbeat, but as strong as he was he couldn’t stop Afraig, almost his equal in size and strength, without hurting him.
         He watched in horror as his friend pushed through the reeds to find the corpse of his twelve year old brother bruised and beaten and butchers.  Micheal tried to identify every scent, but it was difficult to pick just one around the tattered body.  Afriag droped to his knees sreaming at the top of his lungs rage ebbing out of his every pour, then rose and bolted through the reeds mutter something about revenge.  Micheal stayed behind and waited until the police and Demitri arrived before solemnly climbing into Simons van and then when no one could see breaking down.  A sense of both loss and Failure had washed over him, and at first he blamed himself for not being fast enough, yet he knew there was nothing he could do.
A week had pasted since that day under the bridge, a week with out answers and Afriaig’s absence was an ominous black cloud looming off in the horizon.  Demitri, being the south richest man, had spared no expense hiring every bounty hunter, private detective and mercenaries he could find to track down the killer for him.  He kept waiting for his phone to ring with news that something had been found, by the police or his son or even his hired men, but nothing answer had came.  Instead it seemed that 3 more people had gone missing with out a trace, all of them young males.  Though it seemed no bodies had turned up.
Reality came crashing back as bagpipes began drolling out the mournful song while the casket was lowered.  He wanted the answers that no one else had, he wanted to avenge Williams’s death, he knew some one had done this and was probably doing it now.  His hand was fumbling crushed the side of the steel chair as the rage fueled up with I him.  His nails slowly beginning to change into claws.  Thankfully as he felt he would lose control of his change a calming presence washed over him, and a small feminine hand found a resting place upon his shoulder.  He looked up to see the beautiful green eyes and flowing red hair of Rose Carson, staring back at him.