Larry Correia: Monster Hunter International

"And it was only through a whole lot of legal wrangling that he was given a special status," Julie said. "Earl is the only non-PUFF applicable lycanthrope in the world. And even then he is kind of on probation."

"But I thought werewolves were crazy, and violent, and just killed people at the drop of a hat," I said. I unconsciously rubbed my hand on my face, only to realize that my scar was no longer there. I lowered my hand, feeling stupid. "But he seems so in control." It all made sense though. The way he had defeated Darne so easily on the freighter. The way that he had fought in Natchy Bottom.

"Well… he's had a lot of time to work on it," the Boss said. "He has more control over his abilities than any other one that we know about. On the full moon, he still has to lock himself up, because he ain't got no choice but to change then. On the full moon, he just loses it, and it's all animal. He tears the hell out of things, but by morning he's fine. We got us a concrete room with a steel door in the basement of the compound. Built just for him."

"On holidays Milo throws a cow in the cell with him," Nate added helpfully, "kind of like a special Christmas dinner. In the morning we just hose it down."

"He used to lock himself up at the family estate. We had a little building out by the old slave quarters," the Boss said. "Had to build the new cell when he started to wear it out. He didn't want to get loose and hurt somebody when he wasn't in full control."

I knew exactly which little building he was talking about. It had given me the creeps at the time. All of those marks that I had thought had been made by a tool, they had been frustrated claw marks. "But there were millions of scratches in there," I blurted. "It had to have taken hundreds of hours to do all of that."

The three Shacklefords looked at each other, trying to decide what exactly to say. Finally Julie started to speak.

"Not hundreds of hours, but almost that many years."

"Huh?"

"Julie!" Nate said, looking over his shoulder to make sure the other Hunters were not in earshot. "You can't tell him about… that."

"Sorry, bro. In the last few days Owen has almost destroyed the universe twice to save me. I'm guessing that he can know about the family secret," she said politely. The Boss nodded for her to proceed.

"Earl isn't just a special case. He is the special case. As far as we know, he is the oldest living lycanthrope in the world. He is, quite literally, the king of werewolves. He was bitten back in the 1920s. Over the last eighty years, he has aged maybe twenty years. It took him a real long time to get the hang of it, and to keep from flipping out and killing people like a regular werewolf. That's probably why he smokes so much. When he doesn't get his cigarettes, he gets cranky. When he gets cranky, people get eaten."

"Gives a whole new meaning to nicotine fit," Nate quipped. His grandfather groaned. It probably wasn't the first time that joke had been made in the family.

"He changes his name every generation, always trying to keep his secret safe. Only a handful of us know who he really is. My family has protected him the whole time."

I thought back to the Shackleford family estate, and more importantly the wall of family portraits. There had been only one missing, conspicuous by its absence.

"Raymond Shackleford the Second," I said slowly.

"Yep. You're pretty quick for a bean counter. I like this young man, Julie, much better than your last boyfriend, but I digress. I was only a young man when he was bit, but we stood by my daddy," the Boss said. "Shacklefords take care of their own." The other two nodded. He pointed toward the road where some other vehicles were arriving. "Well, looks like we got some company. Come on, Nate, let's give these two a moment." He shuffled away, grandson in tow.

"So let me get this straight." I took Julie by the hand. "You hang out with your great-grandfather, who's some sort of mutant super werewolf. Your mother is a vampire. Your father was a mad genius who almost destroyed the world. Your grandfather is a half-crazed Monster Hunter with one eye and a stainless steel hook for a hand, and he's the normal one of the bunch." I took a deep breath. "Is that about it? Is there any other family weirdness that I need to know about?"

"No. That's pretty much it," she answered, looking a little sheepish. "Can you deal with that?"

I pulled her close. "Julie, at this point you could tell me that you sprout butterfly wings and a third eye on every second Tuesday, and I would still be in love with you."

"Good," she said with a grin. "Well, there's still my Uncle Leroy, but that's complicated… so that story is going to have to wait." She pointed at the horizon. There were several black shapes approaching. Helicopters. The Feds had finally arrived.

The Blackhawks set down in the blasted valley. The Apaches circled over the area. The Feds did not speak as they fanned out into the forest to stake out the fallen blocks of ivory debris. There were only a handful of MHI staff left at the scene, as almost everybody else had packed up and left. We found the Boss arguing with Agent Myers near the original National Guard position. The Guardsmen were mostly still there, though their lieutenant had locked himself inside the APC and refused to come out. Agent Franks stood off to the side, listening intently to the radio traffic as his men scoured the forest for anything of interest.

"It's over, Myers. We done killed the damn thing. Biggest PUFF bounty ever!" the senior Shackleford shouted. "See, we didn't need no stinking government help."

"Whatever, you old coot," Myers retorted. "This is our scene now. Turn in your paperwork to the PUFF office for approval. I don't care." He saw me approaching. "Mr. Pitt. What happened to your face?" Agent Franks looked up and scowled at me. Once again he was the ugliest man in our line of work. Haha sucker.

I ignored the comment. "It's over, Myers. The Cursed One is dead. His body's out there with the rubble. Along with that artifact." I pointed in the direction I thought most of the pocket dimension had landed in. "If you find it, I suggest you don't play with it. Just put it some safe place, and leave it the hell alone."

"That's our business now. Don't you worry. It'll be in good hands. Now get out," he ordered. "This scene is our jurisdiction."

"Fine, but I'm warning you. That box is a lot more than you can handle." I nodded at Franks. "A bunch of your men were killed in that cavern. Turned into wights. You had best see to them."

Franks nodded in understanding. I think that we had come to terms.

"Earl!" Julie shouted. She pointed toward the trees. "He's alive."

Sure enough, Harbinger came walking through the trees. Dirty, caked in mud, grass and leaves, dried blood matted over most of his body-he was totally naked, but did not seem to care. He walked past the Feds, most of whom stepped away from him, slightly fearful. He strode directly up to us, stopping only a few feet from Myers.

"Hey, Myers."

"Earl."

"Got a smoke?"

Myers nodded nervously, took out a pack, and handed over a cigarette. The senior agent handed over his lighter as well. Harbinger took a drag, and sighed contentedly. He looked like a nightmare wild man of the forest, but he did not care in the slightest.

"It's good to have lungs that regenerate," he said. "So, Myers, we've done your job. The threat's dead. The vampires are dead. I suppose right about now MHI is on your bosses' good side. I'm guessing we're square."

The Fed hesitated, not really wanting to answer. "I suppose so."

"Full access to fulfill our contracts?"

"Agreed."

"My teams can move freely?"

"Fine."

"Call off OSHA, the EPA? Fish and Game? ATF?"

"I'll see what I can do."