Chapter One

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Chapter One (Newell)

Note: This is kind of a given, but. I'll say it anyway. This is part of a series! The very beginning starts with The Love Bite.

I have a very special talent and it's not one I would like to pride myself in.

It just happens so often that we've decided to call it a talent, or maybe we should call it a habit? Either way, it's not something I'm very fond of, but it never lasts long.

"Spit it out, you damn brat!" Another kick upside the head was delivered and I swore I felt my brain rattle around inside my skull as a steel toed boot connected with my forehead. I hit the floor on my back for a second before rolling over as I tasted blood in my mouth. I let it trickle out as I lay on my side, breathing hard. I blinked a few times to clear my vision, then looked up at the three men who glared down at me, baring thick canines that indicated they were not vampires or oni, but very unfriendly werewolves that wanted something back.

This happened often, when someone happened to catch up with me that I forgot I had wronged and it wasn't my fault I had forgotten the theft of the infamous Grey gun from the museum that was guarded by werewolves. I had taken it with full intention of returning it, but Vladimir happened to get a hold of it and kept the damn thing.

Of course, my dear old friend had made the mistake of not informing the security that he had it in his custody, so now, years later, I was paying the price for sticky fingers.

"Where's the gun, you little shit?" The larger werewolf demanded. He was an oversized punk with a beer belly that he seemed to pride himself in as he puffed his chest out, glaring down at me over the pouch. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"How many times must I repeat myself? I do not have your filthy pistol. Vladimir has it." I responded heatedly, squirming my hands in the tight rope that kept them prisoner. I was just seconds from it coming loose, but if they kept kicking me around at this rate, I'd have no bones to move. The werewolf curled his lip and sneered down at me. He reached out and caught me by the back of my jacket, jerking me onto my feet and snarling in my face. I made a face of disgust and coughed at the horrid stench of wet dog food and snails.

"Oh, please don't do that, I might vomit." I managed in disgust. His face screwed up and he snarled, backhanding me so hard that I hit the floor and rolled for a second before my back hit a shelf of paint cans that rattled and fell to the floor. I hissed as purple and blue paint splattered across my face and hair and the front of my new Calvin Klein jacket. The werewolves burst out laughing at once, one of them happily snorting between gasps for air. I rolled my eyes, gritting my teeth as I glared at a drop of purple paint dripping from my bangs and down my nose.

Xed, hurry up and get here before I attempt suicide.

"That was great, Jed," One of the werewolves snickered at the beer belly one, "Maybe you should paint the walls too." Jed grinned a toothy grin at that, walking over to me and grabbing me up by the collar of my jacket. I hissed and snapping my teeth at him, but he swung me around and slammed me into a wall. I groaned in pain as my head collided with the concrete wall, sending a splitting headache through my skull.

I hit the floor, breathing hard. I got up on my knees slowly, closing my eyes tightly as I heard an extra heartbeat. It moved quick, fast, and angrily. I relaxed now, leaning against the wall as I caught my breath. As I did so, I could hear the sound of a werewolf caught off guard, the kicked puppy sound echoing through the warehouse. The other two scrambled to help him, but the sound of breaking bones and blood splattering everywhere followed. I waited until a shadow fell over me before I opened my eyes and tilted my head back to look up at Xed, who stood over me.

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