Wanted (In More Ways Than One)

Ambush

Six days later, Steven Dartnall was found guilty of terrorism and was carted off to prison. Michael was hailed a hero for saving so many lives, but refused to accept congratulations since he wasn’t the only one responsible. He couldn’t explain who had helped him – mostly for the sake of Ezra Romero’s relationship with his so-called ‘friends’ – and the press made a far-fetched story about a special agent who was skulking in the shadows of Merseyside like a certain caped, comic book hero.

Ezra got a kick out of it anyway. He left a sticky note on Michael’s desk – no doubt after having flown through the vents in his bat form – and a doodle of a familiar bat-like superhero was sketched upon it, alongside the words ‘Special Agent Batmero’.

Now, it was the weekend and Michael was plodding through the woods in his canine form; relaxing after a rather stressful week.

He liked to think that he looked intimidating as a black wolf, but there were patches of browns and greys littered throughout his coat that made him more akin to an African wild dog than the ominous black wolf that featured in myths and legends. His fur was thick and soft and he was larger than the average wolf; none of which was any help in the summer months when the sun was at its hottest.

He stopped for a drink at a narrow stream. Werewolves technically didn’t need to transform at all and whilst the urge to transform under a full moon was strong, most werewolves could control whether they actually did. Children’s bedtime stories had given werewolves a bad name and Michael had never understood why humans assumed all wolves were vicious and out for blood when they transformed. Sure, they didn’t always make the best choices when under the influence of the moon, but that didn’t mean that they were aggressive.

Honestly, the last time Michael had given in to the urge to transform during a full moon, he’d spent three hours horsing around on the neighbour’s trampoline.

Although they didn’t have to transform, Michael found life as a canine peaceful and relaxing. He tried to spend at least a few hours each month in his wolf form merely to de-stress. He was mostly successful, although last time he’d suffered a run-in with a little girl who believed him to be a ‘big doggy’ and hadn’t left him alone because she wanted to pet him. It had taken some skill to dodge her parents.

The ear scratches had been quite nice though.

Michael’s tail wagged at the memory. He was a rather playful wolf despite being a serious man and the thought should have embarrassed him but, since there were no witnesses, it didn’t.

He shook himself, fur flying in every direction. He snuffled at the grass below because he loved its sweet aroma. Then, he stretched and began the trek home.

It was dark, but the air was still warm and Michael enjoyed the breeze that tickled his fur. An owl hooted above him and he raced after its white form, huffing when it perched on a branch and squinted at him.

When his car came into view, he transformed and brushed the dirt off his clothes. He still didn’t understand where they went when he morphed, but he refused to question the convenience of being fully clothed after a transformation sequence.

He reached into his pocket for his keys then paused when he felt eyes on him. His mouth drew into a thin line and he sniffed the air slowly, nose scrunching at the repulsive scent.

He whirled around with a snarl, only to be rushed by two men who definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago. They slammed him against his car and one wrapped a hand around his throat. He growled and clawed at one attacker’s face before kneeing the other in the crotch, and both men hissed and relaxed their grip on him just enough for him to throw his fists at their faces. 

They stumbled backwards and suddenly, a woman attacked him, shark-like teeth descending from her gum line to replace her human set. She was quicker than the men and she had her mouth by his throat faster than he anticipated. 

He curled his fingers around her throat and squeezed hard enough for her to back off, but the men returned for round two and smashed his head against the passenger door. He inhaled sharply, disorientated for a moment, and the vampires pinned him to the car and forced his head up until he bared his throat.

He struggled and the woman laughed at him before digging sharp nails into his cheek until blood trickled down his skin. 

“You had to save that Hunter, didn’t you?” she sneered. Her blonde hair was pulled into a pony tail and she wore skin-tight black leather. She was far shorter than her companions, but it was obvious that she was the leader and they were mere muscle.

Michael snarled and would have thrown another punch had the vampire on his right not rammed a fist into his stomach. He grunted in pain and the vampire to his left scoffed.

“Been a long time since I’ve tasted werewolf blood. Shame it comes in such foul-smelling packaging.” He wrinkled his nose and clawed Michael’s uninjured cheek for fun. The new wounds stung and Michael’s heart raced as he realised that he was running out of time to escape.

He bared his teeth in warning and kicked at anything he could reach. The vampire on the right groaned and doubled over, but the one on the left wrestled him to the floor and his friend quickly recovered and pinned Michael on his back.

The woman stalked closer and gripped his hair, yanking his head back painfully. She trailed a finger over his throat and smiled predatorily.

“Wolves shouldn’t stray from their pack,” she whispered before lunging for his throat.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing him whine even if they could probably smell his fear. He hoped that it was quick.

Suddenly, there was a startled shout and Michael cracked an eye open to find the woman absent. The vampires pinning him down stared to their right with looks of surprise and Michael quickly transformed and scrambled out of their lax grips. 

They whipped around, teeth descending in clear threat and Michael growled low in his chest, knowing he had an advantage in this form.

The men launched themselves at him faster than any human could manage, but Michael sprung out of the way and closed his jaws around an arm. He shook it like a ragdoll and the black-haired vampire screamed in agony as blood seeped from the wound. Michael released him and clamped his jaws around the leg of the brunette vampire, yanking him off his feet and dragging him over the ground until he, too, was screaming for mercy.

He briefly glanced to his left to assess the blonde’s position, only to find her straddling a young man with familiar features. She cursed and yelled at him and when she slapped him across the face, he threw his arms over his head, refusing to fight back.

Michael licked his lips, mind racing with confusion, but the vampires were on him again, shoving him to the ground and clawing at any part of him they could reach as they tried to latch onto his neck. He fought back just as viciously and bit deep into the brunette’s side before shattering the other one’s hand.

He yelped as the woman crept up on him and sunk her teeth into his shoulder and he swiped at her arm reflexively but failed to dislodge her. 

“Stop!” Ezra begged as he raced towards them.

Michael’s heart thundered in his chest as he twisted and bucked to no avail. The blonde dug her claws into his sides, leaving deep puncture wounds.

“Elizabeth, stop!” Ezra pleaded as he grabbed her shoulder.

One of the other vampires – the black-haired one – struck Ezra across the face with a warning flash of his teeth.

Ezra stared at him in shock before once again trying to pull Elizabeth away from Michael. The black-haired vampire quickly grasped him by the throat.

“Whose side are you on, boy?” he snarled.

Ezra struggled, gasping for breath. “Don’t,” he choked.

“All wolves deserve to die,” sneered the brunette and he kicked Michael hard in the face, making his nose pour with blood. “Especially those who protect Hunters.”

Michael began to tire as Elizabeth held on. Her nails bit deeper and dragged through his flesh and a pained whimper left his throat.

Ezra smashed his knuckles into his captor’s nose and once released, snatched a small, wooden-handled, silver blade from his pocket. He brandished it at the bigger vampire’s throat.

“I tipped him off,” Ezra growled. “I was the one who told him about Dartnall. He was only doing his job.”

The other vampires looked both shocked and outraged, but Elizabeth didn’t loosen her grip.

Ezra narrowed his eyes and abruptly grabbed Elizabeth’s pony tail and slid the knife against her throat. “Let him go, Liz.”

There was a moment where no one moved and Michael’s chest heaved with exhaustion and anxiety. Finally, Elizabeth released his shoulder, but her nails continued to rip through his flesh agonisingly slowly.

“You don’t have the balls, Romero,” she smirked. “We’re your nest. You wouldn’t dare.”

Ezra shook his head. “You’re not my nest.” He swallowed. “You’re not even my friends.”

The brunette snarled and punched Ezra across the face, but Ezra retaliated with a s***h of his knife across his cheek. The skin sizzled from the contact and the brunette yelped and clutched his cheek as it continued to burn from the silver. It wasn’t enough to incapacitate him, but he wouldn’t be able to use his powers to heal the injury any time soon.

Furious, Elizabeth surged towards Ezra, but he was faster and he sliced through her palm. Her skin bubbled and smoked gently and she recoiled with a wince.

Michael struggled to his paws and grabbed her leg before she had a chance to remember that he was still there. He threw her around for a few minutes before tossing her carelessly to one side.

The other vampires eyed Ezra and Michael warily, unwilling to approach either of them and Michael caught Ezra’s gaze for a moment, hoping to convey his gratitude and confusion.

Ezra gulped and nodded subtly to Michael’s car and, although Michael wasn’t sure how he felt about leaving Ezra to fend for himself against his friends, his fur was slick with blood and his body was beginning to protest at the agony flaring through it. He transformed and fumbled for his keys, legs a little shaky as he slumped into his car and slammed his foot down on the gas.

He flicked his gaze to his mirror, holding his breath as he watched all three vampires lunge for Ezra. Suddenly, a tiny, white bat appeared where Ezra had been standing and it flew into the woods at high speed, disappearing from view.

Michael exhaled and grimaced at the pain in his shoulder.

* * *

He would never admit to lingering in the station an hour past his shift because he was waiting for Ezra to call, but that’s what he did on Monday evening. When the phone finally rang, it was a relief. He snatched it up before the third ring and glanced around the room, grateful that it was empty.

“How are you?” Ezra asked, sounding tired.

“A little sore,” Michael admitted quietly, “but I’ll heal. Eventually.”

Werewolves healed quickly under normal circumstances. However, vampire attacks were not normal circumstances and healing time was slowed to resemble human healing ability. It would take weeks for the wounds to fade.

Ezra made a displeased noise and tension Michael didn’t even realise he carried rolled out of his frame. He closed his eyes. “You?”

Ezra huffed. “I’m fine. A couple of bruises but nothing major.”

Silence fell between them for a long moment before Michael finally shook his head. “You saved my life.”

Ezra remained quiet.

“Why?” Michael asked.

No response.

Michael sighed and toyed with the wire connecting the phone to the receiver. “I might not understand what made you do it, but I can be grateful. Thank you.”

“You were right,” Ezra whispered and Michael tilted his head in confusion.

“About them not being my friends,” continued Ezra in a small voice. “They didn’t care about me. They never listen to me. I tried to stop them hurting you and they attacked me without a second thought.” He exhaled loudly. “You treat me better than they do.”

Michael’s brows pinched together as he recalled the way Elizabeth had pinned Ezra to the floor and beaten him.

“Why were you out there, anyway?” Ezra asked. “You walked straight into their hunting grounds and it was like you didn’t even notice.”

“I didn’t,” Michael replied, somewhat surprised to hear that the woods was vampire territory. He’d never run into any of them before.

“You couldn’t smell them?”

“Not until they were right behind me,” Michael replied with a shake of his head. “Why were you out there?”

“Like I said, we were hunting,” Ezra said. “Deer. We split up to cover more ground and then I heard banging. Imagine my surprise when I found you.”

Michael huffed a laugh and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Once again, thank you. I’m shocked you saved me. You can’t be in your friends’ good books now.”

There was a weary sigh. “No. I’m not. I’ve had to relocate. Can’t exactly live with them now that they want to murder me too. They think I’m working with the police.”

Michael grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with your nest.”

“They’re not my nest,” huffed Ezra. “My nest is long gone. Still, I could’ve done without three more enemies.”

“If you give me their names and locations, you won’t have to worry about them,” hummed Michael as he slid his notebook closer.

Ezra laughed warmly and Michael smiled in amusement. “You always get what you want in the end, don’t you, detective?” Ezra teased.

“Worried?” Michael challenged, prompting a chuckle from the vampire.

“Still set on locking me up?”

“You’re a wanted man, Romero.”

“In what way?” Ezra purred and Michael blinked in confusion.

“Well... for stealing, breaking into multiple private businesses-”

“Never mind,” chuckled Ezra. “Got a pen? I’ll give you their names. First off, there’s Elizabeth Blackridge...”