Coimeadai

The next morning Justin, Travis and I went to meet with Dr. Mason, the curator of the museum. Standing in the small office filled with bits and pieces of cultural debris from centuries of history, Justin tried to explain,“The one this was meant for is a master lycanthrope”. “According to the journal of the last hunter, the master has far greater powers than the ordinary werewolf” he explained. “For one thing a master can change, at will, on any night he chooses, or he can control his change on a full moon. He can also control others of his kind, like an alpha wolf in a pack. The only thing he cannot control is that he changes back at dawn”. The group at the table was mesmerized. Justin continued “while he is still constrained by the night, he is also more in contact with his human side”. Justin stared at the relic, “the master is also more able to track a specific target, and that is why he is so dangerous. Any werewolf is dangerous, but the bloodlust makes them easy to trap or distract, and their rampages make them hard to hide” he said, “but the master will focus on his prey with a single mindedness and with more intelligence”. Dr Mason took off his glasses and sighed. “Dr Hixon, I am impressed with your research, but you cannot possibly expect me to believe that these legends are true” he said flatly. At that moment I knew this had been a mistake. Dr Mason continued “I took the liberty of doing some research of my own after you called, and I have discovered some different facts” he said. “I received word from a man who claims this artifact was stolen” he said, staring at Justin. “In fact, he has offered a reward for its return, and promises no legal action if he gets back his property” the old man said. “Oh shit, you told him we have it?” Justin asked. “Thanks for ending my life as I knew it” he said. Turning to me, “We have to get out of here now” Justin said. “Dr. Hixon, I would recommend that you return the relic, if not for the legal reasons, think of your career” Dr. Mason warned. Without a reply we left the room. “Well THAT was a waste of time” Justin mumbled as we hurried down the hall to the exit. Neither said it, but both of us were scared. Dr. Mason stuck his head out of his office and called out, “Dr. Hixon, Mr. Sorvine asked me to have you wait here. He said he would be here in a few minutes”. That stopped us in our tracks. Justin looked panicked. “Go out to the truck and wait for me” I told Justin. “You lock the talisman in the console of the truck and I’ll talk to this guy” I said. Justin hesitated, “Dad, be careful. This guy is dangerous” and then he hurried to the exit. I kept thinking about what I saw in the mirror of the bike. It wouldn’t be much fun to be inside a building with THAT.

  I paced the lobby of the museum while I waited. The polished floors must have seen countless students and faculty cross this space. But I wondered how many were worried about a werewolf. I saw a large black sedan pull to the curb outside and a well dressed man get out of the back. As he walked up the steps the car drove away. The man was tall with salt & pepper hair, cut stylishly. The dark suit he wore probably cost more than I made in a month. I guessed this was the one Justin wanted to avoid. I found myself searching for some sign of him being a monster. As he came in and started across the lobby he saw and dismissed me in the blink of an eye. I let him walk past me before I spoke. “Mr. Sorvine?” I asked. He stopped in mid-stride and spun on his heel. “I am Anton Sorvine” he said in a clipped eastern European accent. It was not quite german, but not far off that. He looked me up and down as if he were appraising my value at an auction. “I am Chris Hixon” I told him. “You wanted to see my son, but he is unavailable right now” I explained. “Mr. Hixon, your son has a very valuable piece of artwork that belongs to me” he said, looking defiantly in my eyes. “I hoped to be able to recover it without involving the authorities” he said. “I am happy to pay a substantial reward for the return of my property” he continued with a smirk. “I have been told the owner of the artifact was murdered” I replied, not breaking eye contact. “Mr. Hixon, I mean to have that artifact”, Sorvine said in earnest. “I am willing to pay handsomely for it and I would appreciate it if you convinced your son to sell it to me, but I will have it regardless”. The threat was obvious. It hung in the air like an odor. I resisted the urge to get in the man’s face. It had been too many years since I was in an actual fight. I also wasn’t sure if anyone on the local police force remembered me. In my younger days I was a bit of a wild one. Instead, without saying a word, I walked away. Meeting Sorvine was a complete waste of time. I had only gotten a few steps when he heard Sorvine say “Mr. Hixon, do not force this to become violent”. The European continued, “For it is a fight you and your entire family will lose.” he said. I spun on my heel and got in the guy’s face. I was so close I could smell something bestial beneath his expensive cologne. “Mr. Sorvine, I came down here in the hopes that an arrangement could be made” I snarled. “But threatening my son is not the sort of arrangement I will tolerate” I continued. “I will relay the information to my son and let him make the decision, but if you ever threaten him, or any of my family, again I will put you in the hospital” I said, leaning even closer. The European never blinked. In fact, I think he was hoping I’d take a swing at him. Without waiting for a response I turned and walked towards the entrance of the library. As I walked down the sidewalk I saw Justin and Travis waiting at the curb across The Quad. They were looking past me. I slowed and turned to see Sorvine come out of the museum behind me and wave his arm and then point towards my sons. A black Lincoln roared up from across the street and 2 men leapt out. I yelled a warning and started running across the quad, but I was too far away. Travis seemed stunned but Justin knew what was happening and stepped away from the car to face them. Justin was a large man, but these two obviously knew their business. As the biggest one came in fast, Justin swung a roundhouse that would have flattened him. If it had come anywhere near him instead of flailing in the air above his head as the man ducked and slammed a shoulder into Justin’s mid-rift and lifted him over his shoulder in one smooth movement. As the man turned, carrying Justin as if he were a rug instead of 250 lbs of angry young man, the second man stepped up to intercept Travis’ charge. The impact of the two found Travis on his back looking up at the man standing over him. The first man was having trouble breathing as Justin had wrapped one long arm around his neck. Now both men went after Justin in an attempt to subdue him. My sons are both big men, but they’ve always been academics and nerds, not fighters. Sorvine’s men were well trained. When he tried to help his brother, Travis bounced back from a kick in the chest. Then he found himself thrown across the hood of the Lincoln with a bloody nose and a twisted arm. I reached Travis’ attacker first. The man seemed confident, but I had seen more than my boys had. The man facing me tried to execute a spinning kick at my head. Those look impressive in the movies, but don’t work as well in real life. All you have to do is step in as they spin and shove them. The guy bounced off the side of the Lincoln. But he rebounded and went into a martial arts stance. I ignored the stance and snapped a straight punch to the man’s face. I prepared to swing again but instead found myself defending against a flurry of punches and kicks. I knew it was inevitable that one would get thru, and a snapkick caught me in the face. Just as one of the henchmen had Justin in a sleeper hold and the other was ready to bring his elbow down on my already bloody face, their attacker’s attention was snatched by a blaring horn, as a familiar pickup truck roared up beside the Lincoln and a blur flew out of the passenger door. “Daddy!” was the cry from the slender form as Katie launched herself at the stunned pair. Her hands in claws, she reached for the face of the guy kicking my ass. Ignoring me for the moment, he lifted his hands to defend himself. The misdirection worked as her foot connected with his groin in a kick that lifted him off the ground. She spun towards the other man as he reached for her and her foot struck out at his kneecap. The loud crack was followed by a whoosh of breath expelled as her clenched fist found his solar plexus. As her boyfriend Steven jumped from the
truck, Katie turned back to her first victim, now rising unsteadily to his feet. Still in pain from his groin he was almost upright when her first blow hit his head and snapped it around. She grabbed his shoulder and spun him towards the Lincoln. Katie then grabbed his hair and began slamming his head against the fender. By the time Steven reached her, the fight was over. One attacker was on the ground holding his leg and moaning. The knee was bent in an unnatural angle. The other was lying on the curb, his face a pulpy mess. An astonished Sorvine was watching from the top of the steps. With disgust, obvious even at this distance, he turned and went back into the building. Katie stood surveying the scene as her brothers stared in stunned silence. They could only stand gawking at their much smaller sister. I spoke first, “Sweetpea, where the hell did you learn to do that?” I asked incredulously. Steven seemed more surprised than anyone. Katie looked somewhat embarrassed as she