The weekly meeting at the compound was something I looked forward to and resented in equal parts. It was the one time when all of the werewolf hunters in the area would come together. We could talk about our new discoveries, about our hardships, explain oddities. It was an opportunity to not feel so alone, so disconnected from the rest of the world. Because while others worked a nine-to-five with a sit-stand desk and a coffee machine, we faced the realities that werewolves were destroying our world and that was a lonely place to be.

But, on the other hand, meetings were seldom happy occasions. Where there was a fight for justice and safety, there was often destruction. And I knew the news that would be coming today before I even stepped into the little building that we so laughably called a compound.

It was a small house close to downtown. If you could call anything in a town less ten thousand 'downtown'. Armond and Dawn lived in the basement, and the main floor of their home had been converted in a planning space. Maps and photographs hung off the walls, each stabbed with pins or labeled with sticky notes. The kitchen was covered in disposable coffee cups, coffee whiter, store-bought pastries, and packaged snacks that had been with the group longer than I had. The place where there should have been a dining area was filled with two long folding tables with six chairs each behind them.

I did my best to smile at the members coming in through the front door. It was easy to divide the team up. Some rolled through the front door like they had brought the sunshine with them. All bright smiles and eager conversations. Those were the newer recruits, the category that Cassey would fall into. The second group was heavier, eyes lined with black from lack of sleep and mouths pressed into hard lines. That was my category. We were the ones who were still driven to change the world, but had realized that being a savior came with a high cost.

"Good week?" someone rumbled for beside me as I surveyed the room from a discrete place in the back.

I knew that voice anywhere. Milo had been with the team even longer than I had. He was the person who could see every job through. Those who were impressed by my skills were completely blow away by his. Though it wasn't official, he was the team leader. Steady and calm in the face of danger and so talented with knives. At one point, I had been thoroughly in love with him. He was the man who could save the world and my heart with those dreamy blue eyes and his laid-back attitude.

"Decent. Came back alive which is always a great success," I replied.

He gave out a little huff in response, watching the newest members with an intensity that he only he could possess. "How are your parents?"

"The same. No better, no worse. And your aunt?"

"Still in the decline phase unfortunately. She should plateau soon, though. We're guessing her initial contact was almost a month ago now, so she should be stabilizing soon. I guess the good thing is that we can move her into the care facility with my cousin. It's just bizarre that there are two in my family. And right when I was just about to step down." He said the last part as a whisper.

My head snapped in his direction regardless. "What?"

He glanced around the room, making sure no one would overhear. "We can't do this forever, Georgia. I've made my difference. At least, I like to think I have. I have a degree that I never used because this became a priority. I could be a teacher tomorrow. I mean, it's only a matter of time before I either get killed or end up with wolf-drain."

"But, how? How could you leave knowing that they are still out there?"

"We aren't ever going to beat them. You're crazy if you think less than two dozen people with silver weapons is going to be enough to bring down a whole species. We're just making a dent."

"But—"

"Come on, we're starting," he said, gesturing for me to sit at one of the tables.

Of course, I ended up beside excitable Cassey who just glanced excitedly from me to Milo with her wide eyes. Despite the fact that I used to blush madly at the mere thought of being with Milo, I was unsettled by his comment and fully aware that the man was married to his work and didn't have time for a single other thing.

Unless, he left of course.

"Alright, let's get into it," Armond announced from the front of the room in his gruff voice. He was an unremarkable man, short with a beer belly and a thick mustache that he assumed was more flattering than it actually was. There was never an ounce of emotion in his dark eyes when he spoke and today was no different. "Obviously, we are missing someone today."

The pit in my stomach that I had been ignoring suddenly opened up and I feared I was going to become physically ill. I knew. We all did. But hearing it was still awful.

"Quin was killed a few days ago." Not even the slightest pinch of sympathy from the man leading us, but I suppose after years of fighting werewolves, there wasn't much emotion left to give.

His thick fingers pinned two more photos to the board behind him. I squinted for a second, trying to decipher what he had posted. Red, black and green. Blood, clothes, grass. My hand flew to silence the horrified gasp about to leave my mouth.

Quin.

Quin's dead body.

"Quin was lucky. He was killed by those werewolf bastards. He didn't have to go through werewolf-drain syndrome. He didn't have to feel his brain slipping from him. A terrifying experience. Now, I know this must be hard on all of you. I imagine some of you were close. But let's use this as a reminder. Werewolves are killers. If they spot you, they will kill you. This isn't a game. You don't respawn."

I thought I was going to be sick. The realities of our work were grim. We all knew that. But never before had they done such an awful display. To see someone you cared for like that, covered in their own blood, torn apart, it was sickening. I averted my eyes but I knew that image would be seared into my memory for the rest of my life.

When Cassy instinctively reached for my hand under the table, I gave hers a squeeze. My eyes flickered to Milo who had yet to take a seat. He was expressionless. The only thing that told me of his emotions was the way his jaw worked ever so slightly.

"But, again, he was lucky. Those in your lives that have experienced werewolf-drain are blissfully unaware of what is happening to them. You will not be. You will know exactly what is happening. You will feel your mental capacity slip away from you. You will be helpless to stop it. All it takes is extended exposure. That's it. It could be hours for some of you and days for others. You will never know your tolerance until it is too late."

Cassey's hand jerked from mine, moving above her head. I almost rolled my eyes at the gesture. We weren't school children anymore.

"Yes," Armond grunted, not fond of being interrupted.

"I don't understand how werewolf-drain happens. How is it transmitted? Why does it seem to only affect certain humans? Do we know how we can grow our tolerance?"

Armond's eyes narrowed on her and I couldn't tell if Cassey was too kind to notice or entirely unbothered. "Again, it is a proximity thing. Werewolves are toxic to humans. Unfortunately, we don't have much information on it because it is so dangerous for us, but if you would like to be our test subject, then feel free to volunteer."

"Then shouldn't be all be opting to use longer range weapons?"

"Everyone is entitled to use whichever weapon they think they are most effective with and the safest with," he ground out. If she dared to ask one more question, I was sure he was going to snap. Thankfully, she was silent. "Now, back to the issue at hand. We are doing our part and that is nothing to be ashamed of, but we need to do something radical." He tugged a thick rolled and a massive map of Canada unrolled. "We are going to cut off the head."

A pin was stabbed into a nearby town. And beside the pin were three pictures. A beautiful Asian woman with hair darker than midnight. A blurry image of a man with auburn hair on the move. A stolen picture of a young girl.

I had studied those faces since I had learned what had happened to my parents. They were the only werewolves we had ever cared enough to photograph and know their human forms. I hated that couple as long as I had been hunting werewolves. I had prayed that I would stumble upon them in the middle of the forest one day and have the opportunity to launch and arrow into them. Or die trying.

King Ajax and Queen Keiko. Rulers of the werewolf species.

It was finally happening.

But from beside me, Milo softly whispered, "No."

"They are the only werewolves that we have studied long enough to identify them in human form. And we have reason to believe that they are close by. Here." He jammed his pointer finger into the map, right beside the pin. "We have no idea how long they are going to be here so we must act quickly."

"We can't," Milo blurted. We all turned to him, stunned by his impulsive behavior.

Armond's chin rose an inch as if he was squaring up with the best fighter in his squad. "We can. Cut off the head and the body will die."

"This is not a single organism! This is a whole species. Cut off the head and the body will revolt. How long do you think it would take thousands of werewolves to track down and kill fifteen or so werewolf hunters? I give it less than a week."

"We will go into hiding. You're being a coward. We have an opportunity to finally take the beasts down. Now is not the time for second thoughts. Who is with me?"

We all loved Milo. We all admired him. Me, perhaps more than anyone else in this place. But if there was a chance to bring justice. If there was a chance that all of my time and work wouldn't have been for nothing, I was going to take it. Slowly, I watched each individual in the room place their hand over their heart, siding with Armond.

I peered at Milo. Those eyes that I had thought were so dreamy were storming now. But he was leaving us. And this was my chance to make a difference.

I placed my hand over my heart like the rest of my team. 

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What is your favorite room in the house?