To Hunt a Killer

It was amazing to Dozmin how beautiful the city still looked to him, even knowing its seedy underbelly. The night sky was clear, the air as fresh as it could be, considering the thousands of vehicles clogging the busy streets. Smoothly easing his motorcycle between two luxury cars, he speeds up to get ahead of them.

The energy in the air stirs the primal part of him and he flexes his hands, his claws extending to pierce the leather grips of his handlebars. Twisting the throttle, Dozmin increases his speed, relishing the humid summer air whipping through his fur.

Weaving through traffic sets his fangs on edge and a satisfied growl rolls through him, drowned out by his beefy bike’s own mechanical growl. The spikes along his back rise with his pleasure, and he grins when he hears the hoots and hollers of pedestrians.

Two in particular catch his eye, but he barely has time to admire the female’s sleek coats before he zooms by them. He considers turning around and following them into the dingy bar they were waiting outside of, but tonight was not a night for pleasure. He was on a job, and the clock was ticking.

Dozmin sighs as reality kicks in, and the reason for this nightly foray steals back to the forefront of his mind. There’s been a murder and Dozmin was on his way to the scene of the crime.

The leader of the Nightrunner clan, Torm, has demanded the help of Dozmin. Speed was of the essence, as Torm was in a rage. Seeing as the victim was his own daughter, Avis, Dozmin couldn’t fault the old beast.

The uneasy alliance between their two clans has existed for many years and Dozmin was determined not to break it now. Torm and his crew ran much of the underground casinos and black-market trading.

Dozmin’s clan kept the chaos on the streets down, and as long as Torm kept his pack on a short leash, the two clans kept their noses out of each other's crotch.

The details of the crime didn’t sit well with Dozmin, and he didn’t want Torm tearing the throat out of the wrong warg. Besides, the rumour that a human had also been involved was bordering on preposterous.

But the rage in Torm’s voice had been very real, so the sooner Dozmin could put the pieces together, the sooner the city would sleep safer.

A blue sports car cuts off Dozmin, causing him to swerve into the next lane. Narrowing his eyes, he speeds up beside the offending vehicle, reaching out to run his claws over the driver's side window. The satisfying squeal of glass makes him grin, as does the outraged howl of anger as the driver whips down his window.

Whatever disparaging remarks the driver was about to hurl at Dozmin, dies on his lips as the old warg realizes who he’s pissed off. Dozmin snaps his jaws in warning, and the eyes of the driver widen in shock and fear. The Starjumpers, the name of Dozmin’s clan, might be peacekeepers, but they held an equal amount of respect and fear.

Recognizing the colours Dozmin’s wearing, the driver offers an apologetic flick of his ears before easing off the gas and slowing down.

Satisfied, Dozmin doesn’t pursue further action. He didn’t have the time anyway, even if he wanted to harass the careless driver some more.

The ritzy buildings and colourful shops disappear as Dozmin turns off the busier streets, making his way to the Grove. It was a quaint name for such an undesirable area, and it confounded him how Torm’s daughter ended up here.

As far as he knew, Avis kept her snout clean and well away from her father’s work. She had been attending an acclaimed school and didn’t run with the type of people that lived here. So why her body was all the way out here was unclear. “Well, I guess that’s what my digging is going to find out.” Dozmin rumbles to himself.

Pulling up to the address Torm had given him, Dozmin eyes the dilapidated building and the dozen or so wargs that surround the place.

All were Torm’s people, and none of them looked happy to be there. Dozmin had been explicit that no one was to enter the building and further contaminate any evidence that might be there. He could tell that the males were eager—too eager—to get a scent, and to hunt down whoever had killed one of their own.

The place looks abandoned, with empty lots on either side. A perfect place for a murder.

Stopping his bike several paces from the building's main entrance, Dozmin feels the hostility of the stares that are directed at him. Torm might have an uneasy alliance with Dozmin, but it didn’t mean the rest of his clan liked the situation. He also knew none would risk the ire of their leader by attacking him.

Striding towards the group, Dozmin lifts his head high and holds the gaze of Sigga, Torm’s second. Sigga was a brute of a warg, one of the biggest beasts Dozmin had ever seen. His shaggy grey pelt had seen better days and the scars that crisscrossed his muzzle, shoulders, and arms attested to his prowess in the arena.

He was not someone Dozmin was eager to pit his strength against. Thankfully, they were on the same side, at least for now. “Sigga,” Dozmin growls, nodding his head at the giant, before stopping a tail length away.

“Dozmin,” Sigga acknowledges, his voice a raspy growl. “We were expecting you sooner. Our clan is impatient to find the coward who did this.”

“And tear their throat out, no doubt,” Dozmin quips.

“No doubt,” Sigga replies dryly.

“Traffic was a bitch tonight, Sig. You know how it is on the night of a full moon. Everyone is out to have a good time. I got here as quickly as I could,” Dozmin rationalizes.

Sigga tilts his head, the glow of his piercing yellow eyes brightening slightly at the nickname Dozmin gives him, but he stays silent.

A warg of few words. Best not to piss him off too much. Grunting, Dozmin sidesteps the larger male and makes his way to the front entrance of the building. “Was your pack able to find anything before Torm ordered you out of the building?” Dozmin asks over his shoulder, noting the subtle growls and intense stares of the males surrounding him.

The air was thick with the scent of their anger. It wasn’t necessarily directed at him, but that could change quickly if he wasn’t careful. I’ll need to tread lightly through this bed of thorns.

“Breaker was the first one here. He was with the boss when Avis called, so acted the quickest,” Sigga offers, motioning a dusky warg forward.

Obviously not quick enough, Dozmin thinks sourly.

“Breaker, tell Doz what you told me,” Sigga says, slanting a narrowed eyed look at Dozmin. Guess we’re at the nickname phase of our relationship, Dozmin snorts before turning his attention to Breaker.

“Yeah, so uh, after Avis called her sire all in a panic, saying stuff about someone hunting her, her phone just cuts out. Boss was frantic, nearly bit my ear off when I didn’t move fast enough out the door,” Breaker says, his words ending in a nervous whine.

“Not that part brick head, the part when you got here,” Sigga snaps impatiently.

Breaker’s ears fold back in apology, another annoying whine escaping him. “Oh, yeah sure. When I got here, the place was quiet. I didn’t see any sign of a vehicle, Avis, or an attacker. My nose didn’t tell me anything either, so I thought maybe I had the wrong place.” Breaker slants a look at Sigga, before quickly glancing away, his ears folding back again. “That’s when I heard yelling. Two wargs by the sound of it. One was definitely female. It sounded like they were arguing, but I couldn’t tell about what.”

His words trail off and Dozmin notices Sigga’s hackles rise. Stepping in before the massive warg takes his impatience out on his only witness, Dozmin asks, “And that’s when you rushed into the building?”

Breaker looks pathetic as he slinks as low to the ground as he can without actually laying in the dirt. “N… no. I didn’t know who was up there! It could have been the Blood Moon clan for all I knew! I figured I would wait for backup.”

Sigga sneers at the male, his eyes promising retribution. “Keep going worm,” he snarls.

“But when I heard the scream, I ran as fast as I could up the stairs to the second level, I swear! It was too late, though. By the time I found the right room, the attacker had fled and Avis was down.” His eyes flick between Sigga and Dozmin.

Dozmin shakes his head, holding in a sneeze from the overwhelming scent of fear Breaker is giving off. He was right to be afraid. Torm was not likely to forgive him for his cowardly actions tonight.

“Did you follow the attacker's trail? Get a look at them at all?” Dozmin asks, even though he was sure of Breaker's answer.

“I… no… I didn’t. They were gone like the wind! And I had to focus on Avis, right? See if I could help her somehow!” Breaker’s eyes plead with Dozmin to understand.

Sorry, mate. Your fate is out of my hands. Dozmin thinks, as he eyes the smaller male with pity. “And, could you?” He asks, knowing of course that the cowardly warg hadn't been able to.

“No… the cuts were deep, her blood was everywhere. But she mumbled something before the Howling Mother took her home. She said, ‘It’s all a lie. Don’t trust Peter.’ At least I’m pretty sure that’s the name she said. It was kind of hard to hear her because of the blood pouring out of her muzzle. Ain’t that a human name?”

Dozmin ignores Breaker’s question as he abruptly turns and heads to the door of the building. “No one is to follow me inside. I don’t need more warg prints and scents mucking up the site.” He growls before shouldering open the door.

“Peter is most definitely a human’s name,” Dozmin whispers to himself, not liking where that bit of evidence pointed.

****

Taking the stairs two at a time, Dozmin's keen nose takes in the surrounding scents. Besides Sigga and Breaker’s smell, nothing but stale air and mouldy wood greets his nose. Avis and her killer must have found another way up to the second floor.

The smell of blood hits his nose halfway up, and Dozmin growls low in his throat as his hackles rise, a completely instinctive reaction to that odour.

It’s not until he’s within the small room that he’s able to distinguish the musky smell of the female under all that blood, as well as another confusing scent.

Ignoring that enigma for a moment, Dozmin focuses on Avis.

She’s laying on her side, a pool of her dark blood coating the floor beneath her. Dozmin leans over the body, his eyes roving her form for any clues.

She was a handsome female, her fur a light grey, bordering on white. He remembered many of the tabloids written about her. The gossip news had been in a frenzy over her obvious rejection of her father’s lifestyle, and her strides to distance herself from her clan.

“Then what the hell were you doing here, Avis?” Dozmin asks, his voice a low rumble.

Carefully, he examines her body. The deep slashes of claws across her chest and abdomen show an attack from a warg of considerable strength. A tuft of dark fur caught under one of her claws is also telling.

Taking that bit of fur between two of his claws, Dozmin brings it to his nose for a clear scent. Breathing deep, he growls in confusion. The smell was an odd mix of warg and something else he can’t clearly place. It was as if the warg attacker had purposely confused his scent.

It was a popular technique for criminals, so it didn’t really surprise Dozmin. But Dozmin was a tracker, which meant his sense of smell was especially refined.

He’s about to inhale the strange scent again when a faint rustling noise catches his attention. Stilling, he cocks his ears. It could have been a mouse; this place was probably filled with them. But Dozmin’s instincts tell him it’s not just a rodent.

The sound is repeated, even fainter this time, but enough for him to track. He’s silent as he creeps towards a small cabinet. Perhaps it was just a rodent, as no warg could hide in that space.

His claws extend as he reaches for the door and quickly yanks it open. With a yelp of surprise, a small human tumbles out, landing at Dozmin’s feet.

Stepping back, Dozmin snarls. Surely this could not be Avis’s killer? Taking no chances, he extends his claws to their fullest, and looms over the dirty figure who has curled up on itself on the floor.

He had nothing against the subservient species. In fact, he even supported the unpopular movement to end the human’s slave like status in the warg society.

But a criminal was a criminal, and if this little creature had something to do with Avis’s death, it would have to pay the price.

“What are you doing here, human?” His growl was deep and menacing. Maybe a little too menacing as it only causes the figure to curl up tighter, a small whimper leaving it.

Sighing, he eases back on his haunches. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “I’m willing to hear you out. I promise I won’t harm you while I try to figure out how you’re connected to all this.”

Its movement is slight, but when Dozmin remains still, the pile of ragged clothing shifts further and a dirty face with matted hair peeks out at him.

Dozmin didn’t interact with humans daily, but there were enough of them around that he knew this one was female.

“I didn’t hurt Avis. She… she was like this when I got here.” Her words are barely above a whisper. Leaning up onto her elbows, she glances over at the body.

The shudder that racks her slight frame is telling, as are the tears that slide down her cheeks, leaving a path in the dirt that covers her face.

Dozmin narrows his eyes, before leaning in and sniffing the human. The female jerks back, scooting on her ass until her back hits the cabinet.

“Why is your scent covered?” Dozmin asks suspiciously. She doesn’t answer him, instead she pulls her legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She keeps her head turned away from Avis’s body, obviously upset by it.

It may have made sense that the criminal had covered his scent, but not this human. The substance to hide one's smell was highly illegal, and not something her people should have access to.

Not unless she was in league with the killer.

It made little sense. But then he remembers what Breaker told him. Avis had mentioned the name Peter… a human name.

“What’s your name, human?” he growls.

She stares at him for a moment, her brown eyes wide. “Alice,” she mumbles.

Not Peter, but of course she could be lying.

Dozmin studies her. He needed more time. Needed to get her somewhere comfortable where she could get clean and remove that scent inhibiting substance. His nose would help him determine what was truth and what was lies.

Noise from the building's entrance has him snapping his head around. His ears twitch at the gasp the human makes, but he ignores her.

“Dozmin,” Sigga yells from the bottom of the stairs. “we need to move. Torm wants his daughter’s body brought back to the compound for the Howling. We’re coming up in two minutes whether you're done or not,” Sigga warns.

“Fuck,” Dozmin snaps. If they find the human here, they will kill her without a second’s thought. Or, worse, take her back to Torm where Dozmin will never get the answers he needs.

There was no way this little creature made those deep claw marks on Avis’s body, but she was connected in someway.

“If these males find you, they will kill you. I can take you someplace safe, and if you cooperate, you will be treated fairly,” he says quickly, stepping back to give her space.

“Will you try to find her killer?” she asks quietly.

“That’s the plan,” Dozmin states dryly.

Taking his measure, she nods slowly before getting up. She was small, barely coming up to mid chest on Dozmin.

“What do you want me to do?” she asks, warily looking back at the doorway.

“Is there a way down to the ground other than the front entrance?”

She nods. “The next room over has a fire escape. I can go down that.”

“Good. I’ll stall this group, then come around to pick you up while they are busy with removing the body.”

“And Alice,” Dozmin adds as she moves to the doorway, causing her to look back over her shoulder. “Don’t run… smell or no smell, I will hunt you down.”

She glares at him, but her eyes are resolute. “I want to catch her killer more than you do. I’m not going anywhere until that happens.” She lifts her chin before ducking out the door.

“Definitely not a mouse.” Dozmin grumbles as he watches her leave. Turning, he goes to deal with Sigga and his crew.

****