Dale looked up at the sky, the sun was setting behind the horizon. “Alright, what else do you need to know?” he asked quietly, practically mumbling under his breath. He then sat down on the grass and motioned for me to do the same. I sat down. “Let’s start with the obvious. Your wolf gives you more strength, speed, and heightened senses.”

I knew as much, but when it came to the heightened senses certain things confused me. “I know when someone is lying. With a hundred percent certainty. How is that even possible? Do lies have a scent?” I asked curiously. Hundreds of other questions were running through my mind. Dale was a werewolf, I could ask him anything about this mess. Maybe… Maybe he even knew how to turn me back into a human. Even as I thought that a bitter laugh rang through my head. I was beyond saving, even if the Beast inside me disappeared I would still be a monster.

“It’s a mix of things, including scent,” Dale said. “The person’s heartbeat, sweat, little movement out of the ordinary, that is all the wolf notices to spot the lie. It’s a survival mechanism. If someone is lying they are hiding something, in a pack there needs - needed to be absolute trust. You do not want the people responsible for your protection to be hiding something from you. So we learned how to spot a lie and as you might have noticed, it pisses the wolf off,” Dale said with a wide grin, showing his human teeth. It was not a smile. It was a warning. Do not lie to me, it said. My wolf felt rage at the implication. We would never lie to him. Not to Dale, not to pack. I shook my head and massaged my temples. Jesus, how long have I known this guy for? A day? Not even that. Why did I feel such a deep connection to him? The need to keep him close and protect him and care for him. Hell if anything I needed someone to protect me at the moment. He surely knew more about fighting Lazar than I did.

Perhaps I also needed someone to protect me from myself… I looked at the stars blinking to life in the dark sky. Would I hear Lazar’s calling again? Would I be able to turn away from the promise of blood and power? I hoped so. I prayed so.

As I looked at the bright moon, so still and ageless I could not help but ask, “What about the scent of evil? Why do I smell it? How can I even smell it? And why do I crave the blood and death of these people?” My voice was quiet, filled with shame and self-loathing. The loathing was not there because I knew I was a killer. I still could not bring myself to feel bad for killing those who smelled of evil. After coming back from war I had endless nightmares of all the faceless soldiers whose lives I had taken on the field. I hated being a soldier, I would have never joined the military if father didn’t insist. When I became a cop I had hoped to soothe two pains that way; my father’s need for his son to serve this country and my own need for justice without killing. At the end who had the right to decide who should live and who should die? The words seemed empty to me now. I gave myself that right and I did not see anything wrong with that. I was such a damn hypocrite…

“That’s… harder to explain,” Dale said, thoughts swirling behind his eyes. “We are not wolves, we do not hunt for food. We do not crave food as much as we crave the hunt. I only ever go running in places where the biggest creature I can catch is a deer, but my wolf does get irritated and restless so once in a while I have to go hunt down a bear, something that will fight back,” Dale admitted, rubbing his hand over his chest absently. Soothing the beast perhaps? “What you smell is not what I would call ‘evil’. It’s the smell of a predator. The smell of people who gave in to some animalistic - actually no something worse than animalistic instinct. They have become a predator one worthy of fighting, in the eyes of your wolf. That is why you crave that scent and the thrill of the hunt even though they have no chance of putting up much of a fight,” he grimaced sadly. “I think that Lazar sees every human being as evil, considering they have wiped out our kind. Some hunters actually killed off his pack years and years back, way before he was this crazy. I think that losing his pack made his mind snap. So maybe that is why he kills...”

I frowned. “No, that’s not it. He does see some people as innocent, he has told me as much,” I said remembering the bruised old man on the ground. Innocent life… “He craves power. Power to kill anyone he pleases. He’s a demon…” I whispered the last part.

Dale only watched me with concerned eyes before he sighed and got up. “Come on, it’s time to shift.” The Beast inside me very much agreed with his words, scraping restlessly at the thin barrier separating us. I took everything except my boxers off. I wasn't exactly comfortable walking in front of him completely naked. He obviously didn't have such a problem… I noticed a few scars on his side, right beside his pectoral muscles. Bite marks, faint but still there. I wondered if he got them from his Maker while getting turned. Would I truly bear Lazar’s scars forever? His mark?

The shift did not come like a wrecking ball, sending me to my knees today. Instead, it felt like a faint breeze offering relief from the hot sun of summer. The hot sun in my case being the depressive thoughts about my lost morals. I let it wrap around me and gave in to my wolf easily, my bones breaking and muscles ripping apart to accommodate him. The shift was surprisingly quick and soon all thoughts of morals were swallowed by the night itself…