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here.”
    Jack shook his head in confused irritation.   He might not be an experienced hunter, but he knew a few things about werewolves.   They didn’t ignore anyone, especially not the former vampire named Jack Creed.   The smell of vampire still clung to him like a second skin.
    Jack asked, “Why did you bring me with you?   I thought we were going to do this together.”
    “What made you think that?”
    “Back at the house you said we were going to do it your way.”
    “We are.   My way is for you to stand next to the car while I kill a few werewolves.”
    Ian dropped the duffel bag on the ground before he took several steps forward.   Jack did as he was told even though he thought the whole thing was ridiculous.   He walked backwards until there was enough space between them to drive a truck through.   It was then Jack realized his uncle didn’t have a weapon in his hand.   He opened his mouth to yell a warning, to remind Ian that he was unarmed.   The sound of oncoming violence distracted him.
    Growls and snarls floated on the night air.   Three wolves watched them from the other side of the field.   As if in mutual agreement the werewolves began to run, coming straight for Ian.   They changed at midpoint from wolves to men, yet continued to travel on all fours until they were almost on top of Jack’s uncle.   It would have been funny seeing grown men in suits running like dogs if not for the seriousness of the situation.
    In the final seconds before reaching Ian, they stood erect.
    Some werewolves preferred to fight in canine form while others enjoyed using their fists instead of teeth.   Either way they could use their invisible claws.   Either way they were dangerous.
    Jack went to his knees and dug inside the bag for a weapon, frantic.   He dragged a dagger free while keeping both eyes on Ian.   For a great hunter Ian seemed unprepared.   Jack opened his mouth to yell to Ian that he had a weapon for him.   The words stuck in his throat.
    Ian hit a werewolf in the chest with his open palm.   The beast cried out in pain.   Ian’s hand glowed as if it was on fire.   The fire spread, burning the werewolf.   Clothes and flesh were eaten away by hungry orange embers.   The embers worked like tiny locusts, feeding on everything they touched.   The werewolf turned black, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.   It fell in a clump of filth at Ian’s feet.
    Nothing Silver could do to a werewolf matched this man’s power.   And Jack had thought Jersey was scary.   Perhaps it was time to redefine the word.   Ian Carver was beyond terrifying.
    Jack moved backwards and considered running for home.   He could lock the doors, barricade himself inside.   Of course Ian wasn’t a vampire or even a werewolf.   It was possible he could burn his way through the door.
    True to his word, Ian killed the three werewolves without breaking a sweat.   After he finished, he approached Jack with a somber look in his eyes.   He was waiting for Jack’s reaction.   He stopped a couple of feet away as if he didn’t dare get any closer.   Maybe he was waiting for the questions to begin.   There should be a zillion, but...
    Jack was speechless.
    Ian bent down and retrieved the duffel bag.   He went to the car and got inside without a single word.   The engine revved to life.   The headlights hit Jack, blinding him so he couldn’t see Ian’s face behind the dark windshield.   Bugs danced in the light.   Jack swatted at the ones closest to his face.   He experienced the urge to run once again, stronger this time.   If he was smart, he would use his vampire-speed to reach the house before Ian.
    What if Ian could run fast?
    Feeling defeated, Jack climbed into the passenger seat.   He took his time in shutting the door.   His seatbelt remained unfastened.   It wasn’t a good idea to strap yourself into a car with a person who burned werewolves to death.   He might need to make a quick exit.   He wanted