The white convertible cruised the lonely road with its headlights off. It was a star-lit evening and Logan regretted having to do it this might. There wasn't any other option as he had to dispose off the body as quickly as possible to prevent the putrid odor wafting off; the body had been dead 3days now.

He could see the fenced out section across the road that was Fells graveyard and the vehicle slowly came to a halt. The trunk opened easily despite his shaky hands. A black body bag lay in it, he slowly zipped it open and glanced at the face, and his throat throbbed, he zipped it shut.

Adjusting his hoodie and grabbing a flashlight which he placed between his teeth, he carried the dead weight in the bodybag through the dead silence and littered graves.

He wondered why the cementary had such low gates and little security; Small town. But what type of sicko would rob a graveyard?

He found the perfect spot and let the bodybag land with a slight thud to the ground. Taking a shovel he'd brought along, he started the dig. Minutes passed and he knew he should've been perspiring heavily by now but he wasn't; special thanks to this Lycan curse, he sneered.

The pit was four feet deep and the body landed in. He checked at his timepiece,
Eight-Fortyfive.
Even then he could the effect of the pale grey moon that slowly lit the horizon. Anytime ow and he would experience the immense strength and transformation the lunar globe brought with it. That was when he heard the sound of screeching tires and a vehicle's engine. Shit!

Norman Henderson sighed tiredly while driving his black Metro truck on his regular night patrol. It was his shift today to do the night rounds. Today he had his son's company, Max for some strange reason had wanted to tag along and he'd cheerfully obliged.

"Patrolling doesn't seem so bad." Max spoke breaking his thoughts. He had his head out the window and was taking in the view while his dad drove.
Norman chortled slightly. "Yeah, it's a nice view for a couple of weeks," he said eyes on the road and then at Max. "Try repeating for a month or a year, that's when it gets boring."

"I could never get tired of this scenery." Max muttered while peering straight ahead. His eyesight blurred a little and then his range of vision expanded further than usual and he could see the streets and corners very clearly like through a camera's lens - if not clearer. He could smell something dead, something wasn't right. "Make a left!" He blurted in a trance like manner.

"What?"

"Fells graveyard now." Echoed Max while Norman swerved to make a late left turn. They drove for a couple of seconds before they could see Logan's illuminated convertible.

"What's this about?" Norman questioned.

"That's Logan's car. I'm gonna go check it out, your presence might startle him." Max spoke about to step out.

Norman stared at Logan's vehicle and at the distance they had driven. He took hold of Max's arm in an attempt to question him but instead met the steel grip of Max's hand.
"Oww." He groaned almost immediately.
"I'm sorry. Reflex." Max added apologetically while Norman nursed his hand.

"And what's a teen like you doing out here this late? How did you even know to look this way?" Norman questioned with a curious brow. Max shrugged both shoulders.
"Just a hunch."

The flashlight within his grasp was a facade as he realized weeks ago that he could see perfectly in the dark. He wondered if Logan might be experiencing the same abilities as he. All the more reason he had volunteered to tag along with his dad, and why he was trudging through Fells graveyard now - he had questions that needed answering.

The flashlight turned off when he was a little far in. His pupils were mere slits now with a purplish vision as the entire area came into view.

An open grave lay a few feet ahead of him. Freshly dug,  He bent to take a look into the grave when he noticed an abandoned flashlight and a leather body bag that lay there.

"Inquisitive much?" A startled Max turned to face a silhouette of Logan before he stepped into view. There was obviously something changed about him.
"No, just wondering why you're in a graveyard this late with a body." Max said between sniffs. He could smell apprehension and something else; was that dog scent!

"Just being a good Samaritan, that's all." Logan said brushing past Max and making to pick up his flashlight when he paused. Something seemed different about Henderson, he had changed too but not like he himself had.

"Doesn't seem like whoever's in that bag died of natural causes and we both know it." MX blurted.
"Henderson, this ain't your business," Logan felt his anger build. He hadn't felt so much rage before - all thanks to the Sapphire stone.

"It is when someone's life is snatched in cold blood. My dad is a patrol officer for Pete's sake!" Max said angrily. Logan had obviously killed whoever was in that body bag and he seemed to be okay with it.
"Go away while you still can," Logan said almost growling. His arms and feet snapped and extended in length ripping his white tee n blue jeans, claws protruded out of every nail and fangs replaced his teeth, all to Max's dismay. His body was a little furry in some places and he'd grown a tail but he still looked and stood like a man.

Max still stood, taken completely aback by what he was seeing. Logan had turned into a creature from folklore; a Werewolf! In a split second, his razor clawed arm slashed at him. His entire torso bent backwards avoiding the fatal blow as he did a back flip and crouched.

"This isn't you Enders." Max spoke then glancing quickly at the full moon. "It's the moon controlling you."He ran swiftly a little bit further with Logan tailing him.

He managed a quick jump over a large gravestone before Logan dived fast at him, pinning him to the ground. Max pushed him off with a quick punch to his side. He fell backwards before doing a quick get up, swooshing closer to Max, he whipped Max feet off the ground with his tail and then slashed across his chest.

A gunshot rang out almost seconds after Max had groaned in pain, startling Logan who just took off on all fours. The sharp beam of a flashlight illuminated the spot where Max lay, his T-shirt showed claw marks and blood seeped freely.

"Max!" Norman exclaimed at the sight, rushing to the spot to examine the wounds. "I gotta get you to a hospital. Give me your arm," they both moved slowly, Max groaned with each step. "Did you see what it was that attacked you?" Norman questioned after placing him in the passenger seat. He half blamed himself for letting Max go on his own. He started up the ignition and sped, passing a light grey Sedan along the way.

A quick image flashed across Max's mind; Logan's hand clawing him. He quickly shut it out. "It was an animal. A wild one." He finally replied, his eyes shut as he faded into unconsciousness.

Hours earlier

The Eagle crest Bar house seemed too quiet with only about seven customers left as the bartender cleaned up the tables. His meaty arm and knotted beard, coupled with his Mohican haircut all screamed ex-convict! Little wonder why he'd decided to seek refuge in so small a town. "You 'gonna place your order or what?" He asked gently but in a way others would've found rude.

The stranger seated across his serving counter glanced in his direction, green eyes that unnerved him. "No. I am perfectly fine." Olin replied just as gently. He knew right after he'd awoken that supernaturals would get their powers back, and it was only a matter of time before he found himself a Witch for a daylight spell. Those two kids had inadvertently played into Vernon's plans now they'd be anything but human.

His thoughts were distracted by the sight of the dark haired teen in a black hooded jacket, white tee and blue jean walking into the bar and straight for the counter, while ordering a drink. "Talk of the devil." Olin muttered inaudibly as he watched Logan down the vodka shot.

"... But I dropped a twenty?!" Logan mentioned in a shocked tone.

"Well it's double for underaged drinkers." The bartender replied gruffly with a dead gaze.

"I'm not underaged, I turned eighteen in April." Logan argued. The bartender gave him a proper scrutinizing look before he let Logan go. Logan turned to leave but not before noticing Olin watching him closely. He exited the bar in a few quick steps.

Olin waited a few minutes before adjusting his coat and taking his leave. Everything about him screamed ancient and he needed to blend in.

"Hello there, please I'm sorry to just jump in like this. I just need help with my car," called a young brunette in a blue blouse and a formal high waist skirt, with pumps as footwear. "Can you help?"

Olin's eyes slowed gazed past her to the light grey Sedan she owned. "Of course." He worked for a bit on her engine and fixed the problem in a couple of minutes. All thanks to driving and auto mechanic lessons in the '50's. "You are good to go." He added with an edge to his rich accent, making her grin brightly as she bit her lower lip.

"Want a ride to where you're going?" She said with a flirty expression. She slowly ran a finger down along the trunk of the car while maintaining eye contact with him.

"Only if you come along." Olin smirked, his green eyes peered hard at her making her blush. He held her chin with his fingers in a dead gaze. His pupils suddenly constricted as he compelled.

Do not scream or commit this to memory.

He caught a whiff of her scent when his nose grazed the skin at her neck. His fangs sank in and the blood slowly seeped down his throat, its effects showed as his pale skin turned a lighter shade. The lady just stared ahead with a plain expression like a puppet till he stopped feeding.

"I think I will take that ride now." He said when she gained her reasoning. She nodded with a smile as she got into the drivers seat and started the ignition.