James’s Notes: And this brings us to the end of our story. Witcher Man means a lot to me. It’s the first longer piece I ever finished and the first I ever really enjoying going back and reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. And don’t worry, there are more stories about Daniel on the way. After all, there’s no rest for the Witcher Man.
“That was very impressive.” Wolfgang observed with a respectful inclination of his head.
“Not at all”, Dimitri replied. “He is very inexperienced and doesn’t know how to use his own strength yet. We will make sure that in time he finds his true power.”
Having almost accidentally killed myself trying to keep him from killing me, I admit there was part of me that wasn’t too keen on this guy discovering any more power. But that wasn’t fair, so I kept my mouth shut.
Damien, who was standing at his alpha’s elbow, piped-in. “He ought to be handed over to us to face pack justice.”
The looks he received from both Wolfgang and Dimitri were almost identically icy and full of menace.
Demetris voice was polite and calm but dangerous. “That will not be happening.”
“Of course not,” came Wolfgang’s quick reply. “We of course recognize your right to deal with your own, just as we would expect to deal with ours.”
The look he gave Damien promised a chewing out later. Possibly literally.
Wolfgang’s people went about securing the scene and making sure that no civilians would end up involved, as I helped Dimitri maneuver the unconscious man into his town car.
“I really appreciate you coming. I might could have handled him, but I probably would have had to kill him, and I really didn’t want to do that.” I sighed heavily, sliding into the passenger side of Demetrius car.
I really hated having to bum a ride, but my mini was still in the shop. That may have been a little optimistic, as there was a strong likelihood that my mini was totally junked and I would need a new one but I was still hopeful. In his backseat set the bag that carried my shotgun along with several drum magazines loaded with Willie’s special payload. It sat unused and thankfully unneeded.
“Think nothing of it, Daniel. I am glad I was able to find him. He can’t be held responsible for his actions. We’ve all been there. When the Beast first seizes you, it will drive you towards monstrous violence. The only time I’ve ever known of a loup-garou to make it through the change without hurting anyone is when there was no one there to hurt.”
“So you’ll be taking him back to Petravalt with you?”, I asked. Petravalt was The Enclave that Dimitri ran. A small village of loup-garou that was really more like a monastery. They all live in a remote mountain range in Eastern Europe where they practice controlling their rage, and, as Dimitri was an excellent example of, also learning how to harness it.
“Yes, I hope he will be able to find peace with us there. At least, he will be safe from himself and the world. So, Daniel, how is your garden doing?”
And that was how I dealt with what I put down in my journal as the Case of the Wolf that Wasn’t. No one died, at least not after I got involved, so I counted it as a major win. It turns out that the loup garu’s name was Simon Lancaster. Apparently he is an accountant, showing that the universe has a sense of humor. He sent me a letter from Petravalt. He wanted me to know how sorry he was for attacking me, and even offered to try to pay for a new car. I told him not to worry about it, and to focus on getting his life together. Luckily, he had no family to speak of, so this wasn’t as complicated as it could have been.
The young hunter who I turned into a werewolf is currently apprenticing with Ollie. He has him helping to run the gun shop, a subject he already knows quite a bit about, and learning how to be a free werewolf who answers to no one. Have I mentioned how much I love Ollie?
The tension between the werewolves and vampires has returned to a normal level. Since the giant death machine werewolf battle was the talk of the entire city’s supernatural community, there was no doubt that the murderer had not been performed by one of Wolfgang’s werewolves. Although the leader of the vampires did manage to stick Wolfgang with the cover up and clean up bill.
Oh well, I guess them’s the breaks if you want to be the top dog. Pun intended.
As for me, my life continues on at it’s usual erratic pace. I’m currently in negotiations with a Knocker I know about putting my Minni back together. Yes, it would be cheaper to replace it than to pay for fairy magic to fix it, but Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind.
My garden is truly a wonder. Radishes beat the soil into submission, making it nice and soft for the tomatoes more delicate roots, while the garlic and marigolds stand guard, sentinels against the insect hordes.
I’ve been plagued by Japanese beetles, an invasive species that is starting to play havoc, but they picked the wrong garden. My secret weapon is almost ready.
The tarantula in my office is in training to be my ultimate answer in natural pest control. I’m binding him with a minor guardian nature spirit. He’ll have a little more intelligence than spiders are accustomed to, as well as some physical advantages that will turn him into the spider equivalent of Superman. Think of him as a tiny guard dog with superpowers.
As for business, it continues to be good. Or at least as good as it can be, when all my business is by definition bad.
After all, you only call me when you’ve run out of other options. I’ll always be a last resort and I’m okay with that.
When all hope is lost, and you don’t know what to do, you can always call the Witcher man.