My Lord's Judgment (10 page)

As quietly as possible, he adjusted his
weapon of choice. His pride and joy was more than he needed to
shoot a buck in this region but he figured that at least nothing
would get away. If he hit the bugger, it would be a kill shot. Just
as it should be. Nothing was as satisfying as knowing that when the
trigger was pulled, the pray would be dead before they even hit the
ground.

As the hunter waded through the dew covered
underbrush, the smell of dirt and plants assailed his nose. He
breathed deep of the scent, the nip of the chilled air awaking his
senses like nothing else could. He pulled down his night vision
goggles from the top of his head and leveled them over his eyes.
Night was swallowing the woods and with the new moon, it was going
to be black as pitch out soon.

He'd been about ready to call the weekend a
bust when he'd heard movement about 50 yards from his station.
While searching the direction with the scope, he saw something that
confounded him. It looked like a dog, but much larger, almost the
size of a small pony. It had to be a wolf. He'd heard of coyotes
being in Virginia, but there hadn’t been reports of wolves for a
hundred years or more. Didn’t matter, he wasn’t leaving here
without a kill if he could help it, so he shot the beast. Now it
was time to claim his prize.

Pulling his rifle level to his shoulder, he
inched toward the rustling noise he heard, the random branch
smacking his limbs as he walked. As he stepped through the brush
and into a clearing, he saw the animal lying on its side, wiggling
as it tried to stand. He’d hit it alright, in the shoulder mere
millimeters from the clean, kill-shot it should have been.
Disappointment enveloped him. He was better than that. The animal,
still breathing, chest rising and falling quickly, forced out
short, shallow bursts of air. Removing the night vision goggles,
the hunter took aim and moved closer until he was looking down the
sights at the head, directing his next shot for the skull. Only,
before he could pull the trigger, the wolf started to change.

Right before his eyes, the muzzle shrank, and
fur started to rescind along the body- getting shorter and thinner
until it was completely gone. The hair rose on the back of his neck
as snapping and popping sounds emanated from the creature. The
limbs elongated, getting thicker, the shoulders wider.

The hunter's heart gave a kick and started up
a rhythm resembling machine gunfire. The weapon became heavy in his
hands, so he lowered it while gawking at the thing in front of him.
“The. Fuck?”

Within a few moments, there was a naked man
lying at his feet and the wolf had vanished.

He swiftly raised his rifle again, taking
aim. He didn’t know what the hell was happening, but he damn sure
wasn’t going to let that….whatever it was, attack him. It didn’t
look as if it was going anywhere, but he was taking no chances. The
gunshot wound was seeping blood, but was much smaller than it
should be.

“Please…” Amber eyes looked up at him,
begging for mercy. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“What the hell are you?” The hunter
whispered. There was no way that the thing in front of him was
human.

“I’m a man,” it groaned back.

Right
.

“No way. Tell me what you are!” He prepared
to fire. Was this an alien invasion? Or was it just that all of the
tales about werewolves were true? And if they were real, what other
creatures could be out there right now? Without his consent, the
hunter's eyes quickly scanned the woods before darting back to the
sight before him.

“Please..."

“Are you a werewolf?” He lifted his booted
foot and roughly shoved the underbelly of the creature, turning it
over onto its back. Damn, it really did look human. He would have
never known there was anything different about this fellow, had he
not watched the change himself.

“Are. You. A werewolf?” He spat out.

“No.” The creature gasped. “Shifter.
I…mmm…shifter.”

Holy crap!
He’d heard of that before.
Basically, the same thing as a werewolf; at least in his mind. The
thing wasn’t human, after all. In fact, it would be a service to
humanity if he got rid of it. His heart kicked again, but this time
from excitement. A flush of warmth suffused his body, chasing away
the cold.

Out of all the animals he'd killed all over
the world, he'd never shot himself a shifter. Shit, he never even
knew such a thing really existed until now.

And just in time.

Life was stagnant, boring. The satisfaction
from the hunt and a clean kill didn't carry the power it once did.
There was nothing new out there for him. Nothing except this.

Hunting was in his blood. He worked, and
hunted... and that was it. Everything besides making a living came
second. He was lucky enough to work for himself, so he was able to
travel the globe, searching for his next big kill. Alaska, Africa,
India, South America, all over the U.S. You name it, he’d been
there. First, deer hunting, but that got tired quickly. He moved up
to moose… and on and on. He’d just come back from his fifth African
safari with a nice set of elephant tusks; paid a pretty penny for
that shindig too.

What was a little pay-off money when it came
to excitement?

When his friends talked him into this
weekend, he was not really into it. Then those same friends left
earlier today, leaving him alone. They were a bunch of weakling
pretenders, who couldn't stand the cold, and couldn't stay still
for ten minutes without playing with their cell phones. It was
disgusting really.

That was all good now, though. He was the one
getting the special kill because of it.

This made is year. Heck, this was the
happiest moment that he could remember. No one he knew had bagged a
shifter before. He was the first - the greatest big game hunter in
the world.

“Please…” The creature begged again, pulling
him out of his reverie.

“Don’t worry," the hunter replied with a
smirk. "I’ll make this quick.”