Warm water, the feel of clean, sharp metal against the skin. Five days of growth shaved off. Soap, all these luxuries that were now allotted to him, this was decadence that was so rare these days. The population of Lycanthropes in the world had risen. Even the sight of the freshly made bed made James Harmen feel that he had died and gone to heaven. But he was very much alive, his shoulder ached, his knees needed rest, and his eyes were carrying more luggage than Jennifer Lopez. This shave, the warm shower, and a feeling of security, all new feelings, all feelings that James new to be fleeting. It had been too long since he felt comforts to actually hold comfort for him. The times hunting for weeks without sleeping indoors, eating whatever rodents and road kill that fell into his path, these were the times where he felt ease.

The past hunt came to him. It had been only three days ago. Time passes so quickly these days, as age creeps to his body his mind skips seconds, but as he noticed with those few friends he had over the years, this happens to all humans. Still thankfully he was a human. Those inhuman acts that he carried out, those were for the greater good. Killing entire families of Wolves, even the children, who only fed on the doggy bags of their parents, would one day take human lives. This was the good, and it was greater to the Hunter than letting age take a hold and kill the prey softly over decades.

It was a small place, with a name that couldn’t be pronounced unless you actually lived there. The country had a bad infestation, the Vampire population was not the issue, Milo had been in two years before and wiped them out. Now, as one predator had been vanquished from the land, the next one down the food chain had come forward. To create dominance in the country, they had increased their numbers by four hundred percent. It had risen to the stage that six members of the ‘legitimate’ state Government were of the Lycanthrope variety. They were the easy kills, silver arrows from James’ crossbow, killed while human. Part of James knew that not only were these statesmen Wolves, they were also threats to the leader of the party, General Madas, who had won election when the other candidates decided to drop out of life. Since his election though he had taken a step back from killing his opponents, after all, the next election he wanted to win fairly. God would not be able to help the people should they decide not to vote for him.

Hardest part of the kill was the rural community, their numbers were more hidden. Tracking a pack is only useful if you can kill their leader first. Killing the head of the pack is vital. If great numbers of the pack are killed and the leader left alive, through research of Professor Iliad, it showed that the pack leader would strike out, viciously and force the change in any who crossed his path. So far James had counted fifty Wolves in this one pack alone, with another four or five groups of similar or lesser number. Take the greater out first, the rest will follow.

Lonely nights are the biggest factor in being a Hunter. If you yearn for company, or good conversation, then you should take another vocation. Three weeks posing as a Military Media Officer, a title that had a background should anyone wish to check into it. It was well known that Media Officers were harmless arms of the present regime, and also out of bounds for attack or changing. Due to the constant foreign body internal and external scanning. Madas had somehow and for some reason become paranoid, and insisted that all those who were under his command be tested.

Lycanthropes appear human, but in their veins is the truth, the hybrid blood that is easily distinguishable between human blood, and no Vampire would ever claim it to be their favourite poison.

Being classed as a Media Officer, or their true name Propaganda Enforcer, gave James a protection from the pack. They would have loved to kill him, to send the outsider back to the General in parts that were unwanted. But should an Officer from the regime of Madras go missing, or be killed, then the place of their death would be put under a microscope. This the Pack did not want.

The head of the pack, the town butcher, was clever, and it took James a time to find him. Where the circumstances allowed, James preferred to kill Wolves in their human form. When killed in human form, the fragile nature of the body would cause them to fall and die. Taking a shot, when in Wolf form, was more dangerous. Should distraction come and force upon him a miss, then the beast could move quickly out of the line of fire, in human form, James could reload and take the kill before the biped move out of sight.

The Butcher, as he liked to be called, so much so that he forsaken his Christian name. Another reason that held hatred from James for the beasts of the blood, they hardly ever stuck with their normal names, they believed that they were given a gift, and names like Alan, or Norman, were not worthy for their curse. Now the man who cut the meat of the village kept out of sight, when not hunting as a Wolf. Twice did James come into his small, clean butchers shop and seek to talk to him, but an assistant would always be there to say that the man was out on deliveries.

Outside the hotel, the Warlords waited, they had to be patient with Harmen, they knew that although his speciality was their enemy, he could still put up a fight. Their orders were clear, to kill Harmen, without attracting the notice of human’s. The death of Tobias had put a strain on the council, their leader was dead, and worse was the fact that a ‘Joe Public’ human had done the deed. It would take until two a.m. for there to be sufficient lack of human activity, then the Warlords would strike. They were the most animalistic, and violent of the Vampire species, but also the most loyal.

The deliveries were not as normal as an everyday butcher would make, The Butcher, would deliver human meat to his pack, quickly and quietly. There were members of the pack that couldn’t bring themselves to take a life. This practice was understood and accepted. James knew the meat was being delivered and by The Butcher, but he could never get a tail, the trail of the man, the wolf was non-existent for him to pick up. Frustrating was not the word for it, it was dedicated fuel to the flames of James’s hatred for the beasts.

A man, everyday normal man, steps into the lobby of the hotel, but he does not go to the front desk, he does not seek to check in. A comfortable sofa, off right from the main door of the hotel, was his perch. Earlier a beast, just for a while, now he was his normal human self. The leader of the Irish pack.

Time passed. The reports that were a necessary for James to send in to the General had started getting to him. There were reports, or subtle orders, from the General himself, to step up his investigation. Pressure was showing on the clam exterior, and pressure causes mistakes. A third time to The Butchers place of business settled it. In James’s mind when the lad behind the counter said that The Butcher was out of town for a few days, James knew what his next course of action was to be.

Late. A moonless night, darker than any other night of the year. Dressed in the colour of darkness, masked from identity, James went to work. This night he could not spare time to distinguish who was beast and who was human. The whole village had to come down, buildings, people, and animals of human appearance. Silver bullets, used sparingly, fire and demolitions, used more frequently. Soon James was standing in the middle of Hell, the flames making the air tempiture raise to a level which was new for the cold Country. The Butcher’s shop was the last thing to be blown, and James waited for a moment to see if the animal was inside. Screams and the smell of roasting animal flesh took control of the air, but none of the Villagers left their homes. Most died through smoke inhalation, others faced the death of burning rather than meet the searing metal from the Hunters gun. No movement came from the Butcher’s shop. The flames grew high into the night. It was the first time that James had taken such drastic action.

The hours passed by, the smell grew from one of roasted meet, to that of lingering death. In his time in Europe though, James had noted that he had smelled worst cheese’s. As the village turned from quaint to cinders, James removed his mask, no one was alive. Slowly his muscles began to ache, a nights work done. Finally a report to General Madas that would actually have interesting lines on it. This was not a night of pride for James, he had never lost control of the hunt like this before, and in his mind, he vowed, never to lose control again.

As the sun came forth, as James walked out of the village, knowing that he hadn’t removed all the threat, a Wolf came. One bullet left. A change from beast to humanity, The Butcher, stood now humanly naked in front of James. The Wolf man was shattered emotionally, his body freckled with animal hair, well defined muscles starting to relax. Around the charred remains of his village he surveyed, looking for a sign of life. They were all dead, human and wolf alike. The Butcher’s eyes finally met James’s, the hatred from James met with total sadness from The Butcher.

James was used to packing, his clothes were already in his hotel room wardrobe within ten minutes of him checking in. Now it was late, He had been laying in bed for two hours, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Resting on the small window ledge outside, the Warlords, uniformed in darkness, balanced with the grace of swans floating on water. They knew that it was still too early, but the scent of the hunter inside was intoxicating to them.

There was a limited number of times that James could play back in his mind what had happened under Madas’s orders. The only time that he had let a wolf go free, the gun was cocked, ready to fire. The animal, in human form, had touched a part of his soul, the sadness had tempered his hatred for the beast, for enough time for the Butcher to slip away. As far as the General knew, all the Wolves of the Village were dead, James knew that he had to let this one slide, his desperation to wrap up the situation in the Village caused the death’s of real people, normal bloods had died. Fire and steel, a faceless aggressor, children, men, and women. The media had found out that the Village had been destroyed, and keen to avoid questions, Madas tidied the whole thing up. There was a bonus for James, not only was the Wolf population gone, but it turned out that none of the people there had supported the General’s rise to power. Harmen would have liked to stay, get his mind back together, but a call came, his brother had been killed, and a new force was aiming to take control. Iliad had not given James much information, only that this time, the unnatural force was stronger than Lycanthrope and Vampire together.

The General, through unofficial sources, gave James the use of the State Jet, and Harmen was on his way to Dublin.

Leading him to a restless nights sleep, the echo of screams in another language, the smell of human flesh, and a choice, an instantly regrettable choice, to let The Butcher live. Sleep was never so far away before. The shadow’s, in his mind, and outside his window, they plagued him like he knew they would. From his touch down at the airport, he felt eyes on him. The Island of Ireland, he had planned on visiting, to catch up with Milo, but now his brother was dead. James needed answers, needed to know how it happened, to bring the remains home.

As much as Frank wanted to see the killer of his kind be torn apart by the Warlords, he couldn’t stay on the sofa. Security at the hotel had started to take more and more notice of him. Checking his wrist watch, and seeming to be frustrated, Frank left the hotel, but not the grounds.

These Warlords, tall, broad, and not a hair on their heads, these Warlords knew that they were facing a formidable opponent. But their reputations were lacking, and to take out a hunter would raise that stake in their names. Rosan, the larger of the two Warlords, was more than happy to let his charge, Tolaris, enter the room first.

Tolaris, forty years a Vampire, had practiced killing a Hunter for Thirty of those years. Surprise was a vital element of the attack, and more vital to walking out undead. The Harmen name spoke fear to them, and it was rare that fear came into the minds of their kind, that was more for the normal Vampire. Tolaris, using his Warlord strength went through the window, and landed with all his mass on the bed.

But James was not there, the bed was empty. Rosan entered, with much less vigour than his junior. Tolaris got to his feet and smelt the air, seeking the scent of the hunter. The bathroom door, closed with the light on behind it, took Tolaris two seconds to break the door down. Rosan remained in thought. They had watched the room for a time, waited for the Hunter to fall into sleep, he didn’t have time to move. As Tolaris came out of the bathroom, it took Rosan less than half a second to realise that Harmen was not in there. Their breathing was becoming deeper, this was not right to them.

Hanging from a repel rope, attached to the roof of the hotel, James hung outside his hotel room window, and pointed the small compact crossbow towards the heart of Tolaris. The elder Warlord, Rosan, sensed the presence of Danger, but Tolaris was unaware. An explosion of ash, and body parts too ignorant to ware down from the arrow that shot straight through his heart.

Rosan spotted the hanging hunter outside the window. James was reloading, trying to get the next arrow into the groove. But the Warlord had other ideas, his quickness left James no chance to reload. The weight of the Warlord caused the repel rope to give from its holding, it could not take the near four hundred pounds of the Warlord on top of James’s own weight. The two of them started a short descent to the ground. Training and the thought of being taken out by a Vampire, even a Warlord, caught James on to roll in the air. The Warlord grappled with James, but still James turned around enough to make sure that he was on top, and the Vampire would be used to lessen the impact.

On the ground, the dirt and dust rose up as the two combatants hit the ground hard. Even with using Rosan as a landing softener, James still hurt, the vibrations of the impact ran through his bones. But he was not as bad off as the Vampire, James knew the sound of bones breaking, and by the noise at the moment of impact, the Vampire had broken everyone of his bones. Stumbling to his feet, James knew that he only had a short time to kill the Vampire, a Warlords regeneration is greater than that of a normal street level Vamp. Behind his back, James kept a machete, just in case a Vampire, or lycanthrope would get too close. Before taking Rosan’s head, a stirring in the trees and bushes caught James’s attention. Someone was watching him. Was it another Warlord, waiting to strike. No, the wind carried a more familiar whiff with it.

Frank moved, he knew the Hunter was on to him, he knew that the moment the Vampire was dust then James Harmen would come after him. He had no time to change to his wolf state. He had to use this time to get away. Frank moves from shadow and leaf, and stands looking at James for a moment.

This wolf as man, James wondered why he hadn’t changed to attack, but the Vampire was stirring back to health, the bones growing, joints falling back into place. The Hunter lowered his blade to get his swipe right. It took two chops into Rosan’s neck to get the head off. When James looked back to spot the man who would be wolf, he was no where to be seen.

With the Vampire as dust, the voyeur lycanthrope disappeared, and a body that needed to be relaxed, James looked up at where his room was. A small part of him knew that he’d have to pay for that damage, but he had made it through alive. On his walk back around to the reception, James took his credit card out of his pockets. “Don’t leave your room without it.” A joke to himself, and still it made him laugh. Apart from the joke, the only thing on his mind was sleep, and he hoped that he would get a new room, while the other was being cleaned.