Epilogue
Brody
Michigan sucks. Travel twenty miles, and it’s an entirely different landscape. One minute you're in something resembling civilization, and the next it’s like being back home in butt-fucking middle of nowhere South Dakota.
And for some reason, it seemed like Bay City couldn't decide which of those things it was.
Some parts, I could get the charm. The downtown area was quaint, right along the river with a moderate amount of foot traffic.
But me, I wanted the big cities. I fucking craved them.
New York and Chicago were great while they lasted, but unfortunately for me, the things that go bump in the night preferred lower population locales.
Which, weird, considering most of them ate people.
My boots barely made a sound as I walked down a busted sidewalk beneath flickering street lights on the west side of town.
I zipped my tactical vest up to my chin, fighting the oncoming winter chill that was only made worse by the lake effect.
My GPS had me two blocks away from my destination—a cheap apartment building I’d gotten the name of from a server at the nearby Applebee's.
Empty since the last guy who rented it suddenly called off from work and never came back. According to the landlord, he had no space for rent, and when I’d swung by earlier to ask the downstairs tenant some questions, she'd claimed no one new had moved in.
Which meant the landlord was hiding something, or the guy I was looking for had paid up his rent for a few months at least.
My phone vibrated in my hand as a message came through, making my stomach twist.
You got anything yet? Dad’s getting pissy. Get a move on, little bro.
Gritting my teeth with a growl, I punched in a response.
Fuck off, Clay. I don't need you breathing down my neck. I know what I’m doing.
I smashed send, then shoved my phone in my pocket, spotting the ratty building I was looking for. “Alright, Hudson. Give me something.”
Slipping around the back of the building, I glanced over both shoulders, making sure no one was watching. I scanned the rickety white balcony on the floor above, looking for a sturdy place to climb when my phone buzzed against my hip. “Oh my god, fuck off, Clay.”
It was my first solo hunt ever, and my obnoxious as all hell brothers couldn't even leave me to it. Grabbing my phone, I glared at the screen.
Just tell me what you're working on, dude. Give me something. You know how he gets.
Blowing out a sharp, irritated breath, I replied.
Hudson Garland. Guy up and disappeared a couple months ago. Found wolfsbane growing over shallow graves along routes between his workplace, his apartment, and the library.
I slid my phone back in my pocket, then leapt, grabbing the balcony railings and hoisting myself up.
With little effort, I made it over the banister, dropping onto the peeling, stained wood of the balcony.
I gave a tug on the sliding door, hardly daring to hope it was unlocked.
To no surprise, it wasn't. This guy was either running or fighting, which meant he would've been cautious.
Framing my face with both hands, I peered into the apartment, looking for anything suspicious.
Scattered notebooks lay strewn across almost every surface. Empty takeout boxes were stacked on the small kitchen counter. Nothing of value seemed to have been left behind, though.
As I stepped back, I caught sight of my own face, reflected in the glass.
My dirty blond hair shot out at weird angles from being trapped under my helmet all day, and I could use a shave.
The dark circles under my eyes made the pale scar that slashed through my brow and down my left cheek stick out like a sore thumb.
I fucking hated that scar, and I hated the boy that was weak enough to earn it.
My pocket buzzed again, and I banged my forehead against the glass.
Garland? Brody, call it off. Get your ass home now.
“What?” I breathed, screwing up my face as I replied.
Fuck that. I’m onto something, and I’m finishing the job.
I set my jaw, trying to decide if there was a way to break into Hudson's apartment when my phone started ringing.
I answered. “I’m not leaving, Clay. Piss off.”
“Dude, I’m fucking serious,” my brother hissed. “Come home.”
“Nope.” I leapt from the balcony, landing with perfect grace and strutting back onto the sidewalk toward my bike.
“Brody, you're sticking your nose into serious shit here,” Clay snapped, sounding just like our father. “The Garlands are witches.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “Wait… as in Garland Garland? The ones who—”
“Yes, the ones who created the northern wolves.”
“Fuck!” I groaned, throwing my head back. “That doesn’t track. Why would the wolves here attack the witches that created them?”
Clay went dead silent on the other end.
“Clay, tell me what you know,” I growled into the phone.
“You did your job, little bro,” he said, tone going flat. “Come home.”
“I’m not dropping this until you give me a good reason,” I snarled, stalking my way back to my parking spot. “I’m twenty-four years old, Clay. I've been hunting since we were kids. Tell me what the fuck you're hiding and quit treating me like a goddamn child.”
After a moment’s pause, I heard my father’s voice in the background, making my skin prickle. “Tell him.”
“Fine,” Clay sighed. “Dad’s been looking into a massive drop in the wolf population up there. Further north. Place called Felcove.”
“Felcove?” The name rang a bell in the back of my head. A memory surfaced, an endless roadtrip through canopies of trees that went on forever with Mom in the driver’s seat.
“You went there with Ma once to visit Aunt Jen,” Clay said, sounding a little bitter. I had always been Mom’s favorite. Precious baby Brody, just like how they insisted on treating me even now. “Musta been seven or so. Probably don't remember.”
“I do,” I mumbled before jogging across the street to my bike. “We have a cousin up there, don’t we?”
“Tyler, yeah,” Clay muttered, something dark in his voice. “And… we think he’s got something to do with it.”
“What?” I straddled my bike, leaning over the handlebars. “How? He’s a normie, isn’t he?”
“Dad?” Clay called, further from the phone.
Suddenly, the receiver rustled. “Brody, we think something real bad happened to your cousin,” my father said, low and grating, making my heart hammer.
“Right around the time these wolves disappeared, your Uncle William did too. Far as we can tell, Tyler’s still there, but he ain't livin’ in his dad’s house.
A couple wolves the Bannon’s picked off had a lot to say about some old asylum out there smellin’ like blood and somethin’ evil. ”
“Evil?” I asked softly, my eyes searching the asphalt. “Evil how?”
“Sickly sweet, said it made their stomachs turn.”
My eyes went wide. “That’s how wolves used to describe—”
“Vampires, yeah,” my dad interrupted. “It’s never been proven, but old rumors say the Garlands created more than wolves. If you’re right about this witch being involved, that might be the piece we were missin’.”
With a shaky exhale, my hand went to the ignition. “Dad… let me go.”
“No,” he said sharply. “This thing took out over two dozen wolves. You get your ass home.”
“Please! Dad, I can—”
“You do what I fuckin’ tell you to, boy!” he snarled.
My fingers curled into a fist, shaking as my nails cut into my palm. If I could take out a vampire, the only known vampire still on this side of the world—I’d be a fucking legend among hunters. No one would ever treat me with kid gloves again.
“What?!” My dad snapped over the line, and I heard my brothers mumbling in the background. “Shit!”
“Sir?” I responded, still shaking with my desperate desire to defy him, but properly trained to be his perfect little soldier.
“Alright, you wanna prove yourself?” he asked. “The Gates are missin’. Me and your brothers gotta head over to Little Rock.”
My face lit up. “You mean—”
“Reconnaissance only,” he growled. “You get your ass to Felcove. You lay low. Do not make contact with your cousin. And if you see that Garland boy, you stay the hell away from him, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Check in tomorrow at twenty-hundred hours sharp, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Dad ended the call before I got the words out. I tucked my phone back into my pocket, a huge smile spreading over my face as I kicked the starter on my bike.
Breaking the speed limit without a care, I whipped my way out of that weird little town, hit the highway, and raced my way north.
I'd trained my whole life for this. I'd clocked more field time than any hunter my age, gotten the kill on more freaks than either of my brothers. Anyone who knew my family knew that the Valentines were the best of the best.
Dad couldn't be too mad if I had no choice but to slay a vampire in self-defense.
I was going to put Tyler Hargraves in the fucking ground. Family or not, once you become something that wicked, the person you were is dead. What remained was nothing but evil wearing my cousin’s face, and I was going to stop that curse from spreading.
I was going to be a goddamn hero.