Masked

CHAPTER 33 | a blast from the past

Central Park, New York

Daniel had lost count of the number of times he had been to New York over the years. He, and many of the other Werewolves who had witnessed the skyline for the first time from the deck of their ships after the long voyage to America, would always remember the city with fondness.

The city's port was the final destination for the four ships carrying the European Werewolf Packs on the migration from their homeland. The journey had been difficult for all of them, especially their wolves, who were forced to stay hidden from the skeleton crew.

They had paid enough to commandeer the ships for the journey, and not once did the crewmen question why they were carrying so few passengers compared to the capacity of the ships, nor why parts of the boats were off limits to them.

Nor were the packs short on live prey during the voyage. Their vessels were the only ones to dock without a single rat, mouse, cat, or other rodent. He followed the path that led out of the park, and looked up to the skyline. In one hundred and fifty years, buildings had been constructed, demolished, and replaced by bigger and newer buildings. Streets had expanded, and the hills he remembered could no longer be seen. New York had grown from a population of half a million Humans; to eight and a half million Humans and a smattering of Werewolves.

His pocket vibrated, and he reached for his phone. The display identified the caller as Murphy O'Neill. "Please tell me you have answers."

"I don't know where she is, but I can make some educated guesses," Murphy said. "I'm just about to get on a plane. I'll brief you when I land."

Daniel resumed his night patrol of the lower half of Central Park and the busy streets surrounding it. A measure of hope rushed through him. If Murphy wasn't sure he could track Elise down, he would have said so.

At least something was going right, which was more than he could say for this current crisis. The past two days had taken their toll on him. The outbreak in New York was very quickly spreading and escalating out of control.

The team who had been dispatched to monitor new Wildfire cases had sought help. They were unable to keep up with the outbreak and containment without exposing themselves. To make matters worse, the Human authorities had issued a nationwide first-responders alert for an Ebola outbreak. There was no doubt in his mind the disease was the result of Wildfire.

Besides all the Human deaths, local unaligned and rogue Werewolves, who had ignored the warnings, were now infected and terrorizing the streets. The danger increased at night when, in their virus-ridden state, their inner wolves sought comfort from the moon. So far, the progression of the virus, both within the Human and Werewolf races, was isolated to New York, San Diego, and San Francisco, with the majority of the victims in and around New York City.

While they couldn't intervene, or show their hand with the Humans that had succumbed to the deadly drug, they needed to address the outbreak within their own community. He and his team had dealt with the situation the only way they could, quickly, quietly, and efficiently. The infected Werewolves gravitated to either Central Park or to the abandoned warehouses in the Downtown area. He had called in reinforcements from the nearest packs to patrol the areas, locate, and apprehend the victims before they ran the risk of exposure.

Each infected Werewolf was given the same choice: a quick, merciful death; or a painful, prolonged one under guard and lock-up. The ones with a measure of sanity remaining chose the first option.

The destruction of his brother and sister Werewolves was taking its toll, and the weight had become heavy on his conscience. With each death, he found himself picturing a set of expressive blue eyes that helped him focus and deal with the burden that increased with each life he was forced to cut short.