He growls deep in his throat. “Still not proof.”

  “I’m hauling everyone back there to help me, so you might just get all the proof you want, mister.”

  “Hauling... as in now?” he asks.

  “Unless I’m mistaken, they’re in grave danger.”

  “Am I coming, too?” asks Pax.

  “Nope. Since I’m going to need Tammy, you’re staying with Auntie Mary Lou.”

  “Please?”

  “That’s a hell no. Sorry, kiddo. And to answer your question, Kingster, I don’t know how they plan to catch one, let alone kill it. But something nefarious is in the works. I’m sure of it. Well, kinda.”

  Kingsley rubs his eyes. “You want us to trek into the woods on the basis of a kinda?”

  “That’s where Tammy comes in. She’ll be able to help me see deeper into their plans, even through whatever shield they use to block it from me.”

  “But it wasn’t intended to block you, right?” asks Allison. “It was meant to block the Bigfeet from knowing their plans.”

  “Bigfoot,” everyone says in unison.

  “Sheesh,” says Allison, reddening a little.

  “Since Tammy will already be out there with me, I might as well bring the whole lot of you. Something hinky is afoot in those woods. A very big foot.”

  “I see what you did there,” says Tammy.

  “Thanks, baby doll. Pax, take my hand.”

  She does. I summon the patio area of Mary Lou’s backyard. Hidden from prying eyes. Pax and I make the jump. I knock on my sister’s back door. She answers with only a slightly stunned expression; after all, this isn’t the first time I knocked on her back door. I hand Paxton off to her and say, I’ll explain later. Mary Lou takes her newest niece by the hand and asks if she wants some ice cream. Pax squeals.

  Back in my living room, I have Tammy fetch her jacket and grab an extra one for Allison, too. All present are wearing sneakers, including Kingsley, though I suspect his won’t stay on for long. We all hold hands, and I summon the single flame again. I picture within it a particularly dense grouping of trees just outside of camp... and we make the jump.

  Operation Bigfoot Rescue has commenced.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  It’s mid-day.

  We’re in a shadowed nook that I spied yesterday, distinctly remembering this would be a fine hiding spot for a Bigfoot wanting to spy on our camp. Which I think he just might have done.

  “So what’s the plan, Sam?” asks Allison, peering through the branches and seeing the camp beyond... a camp that is just now showing signs of activity, with the coming on of the second shift.

  “For starters, it might be best to stay hidden.”

  “For how long?” asks Tammy, tucking her hands deep into her winter jacket.

  “That, I don’t know,” I say.

  “It is a little chilly, Sam,” says Allison. “We should probably come up with a real plan.”

  Kingsley looks up into the trees, his long hair falling below his shoulders as he does so. He’s wearing an obnoxiously expensive pair of jeans. Truth is, they have to be well-made to contain those thighs of his. Looking at him now, yeah, my main (and only) squeeze is considerably smaller than the Bigfoot I had just spoken with. Compared to his fellow man, Kingsley is a beast though... and with all his hair, I hope these yahoos don’t think he’s the Bigfoot.

  Tammy giggles, obviously following along.

  “That Bigfoot is way bigger than Kingsley,” she says, keeping her voice low, despite her speaking the truth. No need to get Kingsley jealous or worked up, or whatever issues men have with ‘size.’

  I say to Allison, “We need to know what they’re planning, if anything.”

  “If anything?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure they’re planning something. But I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”

  Tammy steps forward. “I see what you saw in that guy’s head, Mom. It’s seriously messed up. That Bigfoot is being hung upside down to drain its blood—wait, did you see what’s under the Bigfoot?”

  I do my best to recall the memory of the flash from inside Terrance’s mind, and shake my head. “It’s already growing fuzzy, but I think I see something under him.”

  “What’s fuzzy for you is clear to me,” says Tammy, winking. “It’s still clear as day in your memory, if you know where to look. But yeah, there’s a dark cauldron or pot under him. They’re collecting its blood, Mom.”

  “But why?” asks Allison.

  “Only one reason to collect,” says Kingsley.

  I nod. “To drink it.”

  “You’re telling me this Terrance guy is, what, a vampire?” asks Allison.

  “I don’t think so. I could read his mind, even if they were false memories,” I say. “Likely the money behind this whole operation is a front for a vampire... or maybe even many vampires.”

  “But why?” asks Allison.

  “The ultimate prey?” suggests Kingsley.

  I shake my head. “Probably something in its blood that the vampire suspects—or somehow knows—is beneficial to him.”

  “Like premium enriched super high grade blood?” says Allison.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Then why bother with this bogus expedition?” asks Tammy.

  Kingsley snaps his fingers, perhaps a little too loudly. The sound of it echoes throughout the forest. “Sorry, my bad. Damn sausage fingers. Anyway, I just realized the vampire or vampires behind this whole operation probably implanted the false memories in whatshisname—”

  “Terrance,” I say.

  “Right, Terrance. And likely compelled him to follow through on all of this.”

  “Like hunting a Sasquatch against his will,” adds Allison.

  Kingsley nods. “Yeah, it all makes sense to me. But the question is...”

  “How do they intend to capture and kill a Sasquatch?” says Tammy, finishing my thought aloud. Damn, she’s a master mentalist.

  “Let me scout around,” says Kingsley. “See if I can find anything.”

  “Be careful,” I say. “They have this place criss-crossed with all sorts of lasers, trip wires and cameras.”

  He winks. “I’ll be careful. I have a sixth sense about these types of things.”

  “About laser grids set up in the forest?”

  “Something like that. Plus...” He points to his eyes. “Better than the average bear.”

  “Well, keep your phone handy, buddy. Tammy, Allison, you two wait here. I’m going to scout overhead and look for Terrance.” I look at my daughter. “Do you have any suggestions of where I should look?”

  Tammy turns this way and that, then points to the north. “There is a group of people in that direction. A few miles away.”

  “Can you get a reading on their thoughts?”

  “Not yet. Just a little outside my range.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Be right back.”

  And just as I sprout my black wings, a black wolf emerges from behind the thick trunk of a massive evergreen. Apparently, Kingsley had disrobed in secret while we had been yapping. Yeah, for a big guy, he can move pretty damn quietly.

  “So much for keeping your phone handy,” I mumble.

  The wolf’s wild yellow eyes stare seemingly into my soul, then the creature bounds off into the woods.

  Leaping and beating my wings, I’m soon airborne, even if a half dozen smaller branches of the surrounding trees crash down to the forest floor. I note Allison below, magically shielding herself and Tammy from the falling detritus.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  It’s the middle of the day, so we have to be smart.

  Then again, there’s also about, on average, eighty to a hundred feet of trees separating me from the ground; that is, until there isn’t. Meaning, there are also open spaces here and there: rocky terrain, rivers, empty fields... all places where someone might have a clear view of me.

  And so what if they do? Zap goes their memory of a flying mama with black wings.

  Meanwhile, I keep on the lookout for Terrance and his daytime crew. No, I don’t know for certain they plan on killing a Bigfoot. But that image in his head was about as disturbing as anything I’ve seen.

  Had they come across a body for science, that’s one thing. Had a hunter shot one, thinking it was a bear, that’s another thing.

  But to use me and all these good-hearted, well-intentioned researchers to actively seek out a Bigfoot to capture and kill it and drain it for food—for some vamp’s sick pleasure (or whatever reason he or she might have) doesn’t sit well with me.

  Or at all, for that matter.

  The Sasquatch I’d met was more human than most humans... and had warned me of Wally’s true intentions. Certainly doesn’t deserve to have his throat slit and drained of all blood. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that a vamp is overseeing this whole charade of a research trip.

  I’m certain the others aren’t in on it. I know a thing or two about mind control. Takes a lot of energy and planning to coordinate this many people in one spot. Much easier to control the one in charge, who then will direct the others without the need of further mind control.

  Which gets me thinking...

  Blood coagulates quickly last I checked, though it can be sealed away in packets (as I know all too well).

  But... collecting the stuff in buckets suggests to me that someone might be feeding on it right then, right there. Like, there doesn’t appear to be a collection and packing system going on. Of course, this is all based on an image in Terrance’s mind... likely derived from the real plan the vampire instilled in him. The plan had crept through the man’s subconscious, likely because he, Terrance, had been against it from the get-go. Except Terrance is helpless to deny the vampire his or her wishes.

  And what the vampire wished for was the blood of an apex predator.

  Perhaps the vampire himself (or herself) is in dire need of such blood. How and why, I don’t know. Maybe they ran afoul of some curse of some sort, and the blood of a Sasquatch might be the cure all.

  I know, I know. Sounds silly even to my ear.

  Still, silly or not, someone has a reason to kill one of these things, and likely feast from it. I suspect the reason why is less important than stopping the process altogether. Unfortunately, I can’t call the vampire in question a sick bastard. Hadn’t I killed and feasted on a neighbor’s cat at some point? I had, at my weakest.

  Perhaps I’m dealing with a similar vamp... someone at their weakest and hungriest. And meanest and nastiest.

  Someone who has invested a lot of time and energy coordinating this trip.

  I suspect, because of the effort and money involved, this is less a case of a hungry vampire, and more of a case of... what? Apex bloodsucker hunting an apex hunter? I read a short story once about a vampire hunting a Bigfoot. Didn’t go well for the vampire, if I recall. If this is the case, then why isn’t the vampire up here? Why allow others to do the dirty work for him if this is an ego trip?

  The answer is simplicity itself: a vampire can’t hide his own intentions. As such, a Sasquatch would know something is in the woods with blood on the mind; however, a vampire can hide the intentions of a human.

  Let Terrance and his crew find the most likely place to capture a Sasquatch, then the vampire swoops in and finishes the job. Sort of reminds me of those trophy hunters who snag a lion at a privately controlled game park. Hunter arrives with a gun. Old lion gets trotted out. Said hunter pulls the trigger from the safety of an oversized tourist bus, kills lion. Hunter gets some weird satisfaction from killing the King of the Jungle. Or, in the lion’s case, the King of the Retirement Home.

  For now, I continue flying just over the endless sea of evergreens, scanning and listening with all I have. Unfortunately, I’m much too high to reach out for minds to read.

  I do my best to listen, but the flapping of my wings and the wind whistling over my ears makes it impossible to pick up on footfalls, the rustling of branches or the snapping of twigs. When I spy a small clearing consisting of flattish, moss-covered rocks, I aim for it. Moss-covered indeed. I slip immediately upon landing, and use both my wings and cat-like reflexes to keep from falling.

  “Graceful, Sam,” I mutter, retracting my wings.

  It’s the middle of the day. Though the sun is out, it’s playing peek-a-boo with a smattering of quickly moving clouds. Do clouds move that fast in southern California? Briefly mesmerized, I watch the long stretches of gray cumulus zoom across the sky. As I do so, it occurs to me I’m hearing growling form not very far away—followed immediately by the mother of all cracks and sharp canine yip.

  If I’m not mistaken, something just got killed.

  As I zero in on the sounds, the yipping turns into growling. Okay, maybe not dead. Curiously, a far deeper growl seems to respond.

  Oh, this can’t be good.

  I lock onto the sounds, jump to my wings and take to the air.

  ***

  It’s Kingsley, shaking his big shaggy wolfie head.

  Pretty sure he’s shaking his head because something threw him against that mid-sized tree, now presently broken near its base.

  And what that something is emerges now from behind what I had assumed was a thick trunk. Instead, it’s a fairly small trunk, and he hadn’t exactly emerged from behind it. He had been the trunk—or what I had assumed was the trunk.

  Translation: a helluva big Sasquatch bears down on a helluva big wolf, presently still shaking the stars from its head.

  What Kingsley has done to earn the wrath of the Bigfoot, I don’t know, but before I can begin my descent down, Kingsley is already shifting back to his human form. His very naked human form.

  I tuck in my wings in and aim down. Kingsley pushes himself up to his hands and knees, shaking the cobwebs out of his head, his shaggy hair hanging down. The Sasquatch pauses, blinks. Yes, I can see him blinking from up here—big white eyes in that dark, furry face of his. Clearly, it doesn’t know what to think of the wolf that’s just turned into a man. And no, I’m not sure if it’s the same Sasquatch I spoke to earlier. Seems a bit smaller, actually.

  Seeing the two hairy humanoids nearly side-by-side, it’s obvious just how much bigger the creature is than the man. And Kingsley is pretty much the biggest man this planet has to offer.

  Meanwhile, Kingsley stops with all the head shaking and rises to his feet, his naked, perky butt facing towards me. Whatever ill intentions the Bigfoot had seems forgotten in that moment. Also, the closer I get, I can confirm it’s not the same Bigfoot from earlier. This one, if anything, is also shaggier... long, tangled fur hanging from its elbows and backside.

  I pause mid-dive, pulling up, not sure what my next move is here. If they are at a stand-off, then it might be a good idea to leave well enough alone. Kingsley, unfortunately, is in survival mode, perhaps thinking he really is in danger. And, really, something that big, hairy and muscular bearing down on you would put the fear of God into anyone.

  As I hover there in mid-air, wings beating, Kingsley begins shifting again.

  This time growing bigger... and bigger... and bigger.

  Uh oh.

  Within seconds, Kingsley throws back his shoulders, tilts his head up, and lets loose with the mother of all roars. Hell, even my bowels nearly turn to water. In response, the Bigfoot does the same, as loud or louder—and the two creatures charge each other.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The two monsters slam into each other, bounce off briefly, then grapple old-school style. The Bigfoot is about a foot taller than the wolfman. Kingsley’s claws more than make up the difference.

  I land nearby, retract my wings. Truly, this is a scene out of a nightmare.

  The wolfman (aka, my honey), chomps down hard on the Bigfoot’s shoulder. The apeman roars and spins... all while the wolfman hangs by his teeth and claws, all hooked into meaty flesh. The spinning works, sending Kingsley crashing into yet another tree. Except the trunk of this behemoth is easily three times as thick as the previous tree and barely sways from the impact.

  Not long ago, while confronting a menace under Orange County—a massive, horned creature who roamed a labyrinth of corridors—I had watched Kingsley turn into the wolfman at will. Turns out, when his life is threatened, he can make the necessary change to fight back. Funny it took this long to realize that. Better late than never. That said, it’s a bit strange to see Kingsley’s wolfman in the light of day, even if the daylight here is a bit overcast.

  The wolfman, I know, is not Kingsley. In fact, Kingsley is likely watching all of this unfold in the shadowed recesses of the wolfman’s mind. No, his dark master has taken full control of the wolfman. As such, I doubt I can reason with it... an entity who seems all fury and little sense. And yeah, he is the thing that craves rotting corpses.

  But the Bigfoot I can reason with. I hope.

  I give it a shot; after all, the last thing I want to see is Bigfoot drive its over-sized foot into my honey’s head. Nope, can’t have that.

  “Stop!” I yell, running out into the open. Not as fast as I know the Sasquatch can move, but fast enough to stop another collision between the two beasts.

  They both stop, even if I’m not entirely certain they can understand me. In his wolfman form, I know the entity who possesses Kingsley can telepathically speak to me, which seems a bit off, considering I have no access into Kingsley’s mind ever. But, hey, I don’t make the rules. Some creator out there likely does. I just follow them.

  Luckily, the word “Stop,” does have the desired effect, for now.

  I work my way between the two hulking beasts. Hot breath swirls in the space I stand. Who in their right mind would stand between an angry Sasquatch and an even angrier wolfman? I guess the answer is... little ol’ me.