Cassandra stepped outside and shut the door behind her. The yellow fog had dissipated and the stars were bright.

  The stars are unnaturally bright. Hmm…I guess they are naturally bright. It’s the unnatural light pollution that makes them appear dim. This is how they should look.

  The only sounds were the muffled conversations of the men inside the shop. She left the courtyard and went to the front of the house. She stepped onto the road and closed her eyes. Her sense of hearing was unnatural. The Kai’Den didn’t just increase her auditory ability, she was able to tune the frequencies that she could hear. Having sensitive hearing, alone, would be painful against the loudness of the modern world. Out here it was eerily silent. She closed her eyes and spent a few minutes modulating frequencies. She started at the upper range. If it weren’t urgent, she wouldn’t scan so high. At this frequency, most sounds are piercing and unpleasant. She didn’t stay in the higher frequencies long. All she was picking up were the painful mating chirps the male crickets make by drawing one wing along the other.

  Cass slowly scanned lower. She picked up some rustling creatures, the purring of a few content cats, and a dog lapping up some water. She went even lower and tuned out the low tensile whines of the massive oaks resisting the slow breeze. Her head oscillated as she honed in on various noises. She cupped her hands behind her ears to condense the intercepted soundwaves. She scanned left to right then stepped around and scanned some more. She heard so much, but she didn't detect the sound she was looking for. She was about to give up when something caught her attention. She faced the sound and lowered her range.

  Bingo!

  Cassandra sped off toward the sound of male voices.

  I hear ya…both of you.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Robert closed the trailer door and latched it. He wished Dillon would quit bullshitting with Dunn. The ebony-skinned drol’ka made Robert’s skin crawl. Dunn was a full quarter Drol’ka’Choth. Both of his parents were the product of an original Drol’ka’Choth father mating with a human mother. Dunn’s features were ghastly to Robert. The drol’ka had a long upturned nose that was almost bat-like. His large flared nostrils allowed a clear view into the dark holes that disappeared into his nasal passages. His smile didn’t curl upward. It stretched back toward his ears and resembled the closed mouth of a python. Dunn’s jawline was elongated, as it jutted straight down from the temple, before its sharp angular turn forward. Unlike humans, the Drol’ka’Chot jaw did not hinge in front of the ear, but a few inches below it; allowing the mouth to open horrifyingly wide.

  Dunn was a predator. He embraced his Drol’Ka’Choth ancestry. He was proud to be at the top of the food chain. He expended no energy trying to hide what he was. His thick black hair was a knotted, tangled, mess of dirt and crusted blood. The Drol’ka”Choth fed by opening their gaping mouths and tearing deep into the flesh. They clamped down and let the blood flow into their enormous mouths. It was torturously painful for their victims. Drol’ka’Choth had two sets of canines, like most carnivores, but theirs were long and needlike; designed to puncture deep and keep their mouths anchored into their prey. Unlike other predators, they did not chew and had no molars. Their incisors protruded outward, slightly; slicing into flesh and funneling blood into the mouth. The more the victim fought, the more the blood would flow. It was an extremely messy process and would leave the drol’ka drenched in blood.

  Dunn never washed himself. He wore the stench of old blood and viscera like a trophy. While most Drol’ka’Choth kept their faces clean-shaven, Dunn’s long beard hung from his face in a mixture of matted locks and blood-crusted tangles. His parabolic ears were cartoonishly large and they flared out and rounded forward. Dillon said it was why they could hear so well. Robert stepped around the side of the trailer and saw Dillon and Dunn shaking hands. Dunn was nearly a foot taller than Dillon’s six-foot-four-inch frame. He inherited the proportions of his Drolk’ka’Choth father. His arms were long and hung nearly to his knees. His thighs and calves were thick but tapered into narrow knees and ankles.

  Dunn turned, planted his right foot, and launched straight up to the roof of the two-story warehouse they stood beside. He nimbly landed on the squared parapet of the flat roof and twisted his shoulder back toward the pair.

  “Remember, Durant. Five days. Thirty, not twenty, this time,” Dunn reminded Dillon before he locked eyes on Robert. “If you’re short, I will consider other forms of compensation.” Dunn opened his maw wide and ran his grotesquely long tongue around the edge of his mouth before he turned and launched himself out of sight.

  “How can you stand to be so close to that monster?” Robert asked Dillon.

  “Shut the hell up, Robert Dale,” Dillon whispered. “He could still be nearby. You know how well they can hear. He’s already looking for a reason to eat your ass.”

  “Sorry, Dillon, he just creeps me out…and I don’t like how he looks at me. Like I’m food.”

  “Jesus Christ, Robert, to drol’ka like Dunn, you are food,” Robert reminded his half-brother. “Hurry up and get in the truck. We gotta get on the road.”

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Cassandra waited until the enormous drol’ka left before she started back. She wasn’t worried about Dillon or the other one seeing her, but she knew how powerful Drol’ka’Choth eyesight was. Whoever the other drol’ka was, he wasn’t a low-level foot-soldier, like Dillon. Cass could tell he was close to being full-blood. If he was in the area, her little band of survivors shouldn’t be.

  She kept to cover until she could turn down a side road. Once she was sure nobody could see her, she sprinted off. She knew she should have been back, by now, but she had tracked the duo in the semi to the warehouse where they unloaded the captives. She was about to rush in; the prospect of saving so many lives overpowered her normally cautious temperament. Then the Drol’ka’Choth appeared and she knew it was a lost cause. Not even Jamal would take that gamble.

  That was the frustration that came with this eternal battle against the drol’ka. The Kai’Dan had a limit to how much power they gave a human. They relied on numbers over raw power. In the grand scheme, that was true, but in a singular contest, the first few generations of Drol’ka’Choth were superior to even the Pen’Kai. A full-blooded alpha Drol’ka’Choth would wipe the floor with a dozen Pen’Kai.

  Fortunately, alphas were very rare. There were less than a hundred known to exist, ever. Cass doubted there was one within a thousand miles of them. Half-bloods were more numerous. The last estimates guessed them to be around a few thousand. Quarter-blood and eighth-blood were estimated in the tens of thousands. She figured Dillon was around an eighth drol’ka, maybe a sixteenth depending on the expressions of his genes. Percentages less than an eighth weren’t tracked, but there were millions of those. Most, however, lived their entire lives as any other human would.

  Cass sped on, as fast as she could.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “Thirty? THIRTY, DILLON?” Robert yelled.

  “Don’t yell at me, Robby!” Dillon warned.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “You heard Dunn! He expects thirty people, this time. We were lucky to take him twenty, and that was pure luck. We were limping back, preparing to be pleading for our lives, when we lucked upon that old lady with four surviving grandkids. Now he wants us to find thirty, in five days?”

  “Listen. This time is different. Durant is much larger than these rural towns. It has hospitals, apartment complexes, and a regional university. Thousands of people live in the area. Plus, the Indian casino and an Indian hospital. You heard what Dunn said. It’s all about the Native Americans. They are the ones most likely to survive this. Durant is crawling with Choctaw and Chickasaw people. Thirty will be a breeze!” Dillon assured Robert.

  “I don’t trust him, Dillon. He only said thirty, because he wants us to fail. He hates the fact that you run around with a human; brother or not. He thinks you are weak and he wants to drain me to teach you a lesson!”

  “You don’t have to worry about it. If we don’t get the thirty, we will just hit the freeway and drive. We will just disappear.” Dillon assured his little brother.

  “Promise?” Robert asked.

  Dillon reached over and patted Robert’s back. Robert looked over and smiled.

  “Have I ever let anybody fuck with you, Robert Dale?”

  Robert shook his head and stared at his feet.

  “You’re my little bro. You know I don’t care about having different dads. You’re my brother, and family comes first.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Dillon.”

  “Always am. Someday, you will remember that. It will save you a lot of worry.”

  Robert slowed the truck and made the turn onto Highway 48. He shifted through the gears and set the cruise control.

  “Durant is about an hour away, Bobby Boy. Why don’t you catch a nap? Rest those eyes, a bit. We will need them when we start the hunt.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Robert agreed, before he rolled out of his chair and crawled into the sleeper cabin behind them. “Wake me when we get close.”

  “You know I will.” Robert answered back.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Cass had just made it back into Tupelo, when she heard the low rumble of a tractor-trailer coming up the highway. She turned off the road and sprinted up a block, before turning back and heading south again.

  Damn! I have to get back in time to warn the group. If they catch us in the open, things will get ugly.

  As she ran, the sound of the truck grew closer. The highway ran right past her place. She kept thinking about the group being outside, waiting on her when the drol’ka drove by. Jamal didn't tell her that he was going to wait for her. If Dillon rolled up on her people, unprotected, they didn’t stand a chance. She pushed her legs even harder. It was not enough. The truck was gaining too quickly. Even with her augmentations, Cass couldn’t outrun the semi.

  Think. Think. What do I do? I won’t make it home, in time. Think, dammit! Ok. I could cause a diversion. No! I can’t. If Dillon sees me, he will come for me. If he comes for me, I must lead him away from the group, again. I could intercept him and fight, but I’m not sure I can beat him. If he kills me, Barry and the others won’t last long out here. FUCK! Think. Think. Okay…Jamal is the trump card, here. He’s either there, or he isn’t. He’s our only shot. I’m gonna yell. It’s only, what, a few thousand feet. Jamal will hear…if he’s there. It’s my only option.

  The rumble of the approaching truck grew louder as Cassandra ran. She jumped and came down with both feet slamming into the hard asphalt. She had to take a dozen rapid steps to keep her momentum from sending her into a forward roll. As soon as she stopped she breathed in and filled her lungs. With all the strength she had, she yelled.

  “JAAAMAAAAAAAL!”

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Dillon reached over and paused the Rolling Stones cd he was listening to.

  “Did you hear something, Bob Zombie?”

  “No, I didn’t hear anything, except you singing the wrong words to “Painted Black”.

  Robert flicked the switch that controlled the passenger-side window. He pulled his foot off the gas pedal as the window hummed downward. He strained to listen for any outside noises but didn’t notice any.

  “I could have sworn I heard a yell, or scream.”

  “It was probably Mick Jagger. I’m sure the bombs took him out and now his spirit is screaming in agony as you butcher his music.” Robert joked.

  Dillon smacked Robert’s arm with the back of his hand.

  “What the hell, man? I was kidding.” Robert whined.

  “Don’t make jokes at me, Robert Dale. You know better. Not to mention, you don't get to correct me, and not even know the name of the song. It's called "Paint it Black", bro!"

  “Fine. Whatever. You don’t always gotta be violent, ya know?”

  “That’s funny, coming from the guy who gets his rocks off by torturing people. You know, I’m sure your victims are wishing you didn’t always have to be violent. Like, when you're making all your shallow cuts or chopping off different pieces of their body.” Dillon retorted.

  “That’s not the same, and you know it. First, they aren’t my goddam little brother, and second…they deserve what they get. They're all dirty, lying, whores. I’m doing them a favor by ending their lives.”

  “Then why not just slit their throats and be done with it? Huh, Robert? If you care so much about 'doing them a favor', why not make it quick?”

  “They don’t deserve what I do for them. They have to be cleansed before they can be released from their wretched mortal coil. That’s what I do for them. The pain is the cleansing penance for their sins!” Robert preached.

  “Nope. They are just women, and you’re just fucked up.”

  “Shut the hell up, Dillon. You are a heathen and just don’t understand my calling.”

  “You know, I don’t think it’s your fault. I blame our momma. She didn’t hold you enough, Robert Dale.”

  Robert sat forward, his anger boiling up, and started to reply, but a loud thud came from the top of the sleeper cabin. Both men jerked at the sound that rocked the cab of the semi. A figure dropped down and crumpled the hood of the truck as it planted its foot and leaped off to the side. The truck sped along, so they couldn't see what it was. Dillon pressed the brake as hard as he could, without locking up the brakes and potentially causing the trailer to jackknife. When the truck stopped, Dillon looked over at Robert and asked him what the hell just happened.

  “I don’t know!” Robert replied.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  After she screamed for Jamal, Cass immediately began running, again.

  Shit! They’re even closer now. I hope it worked. It has to work. Come on Jamal. Come to me, Come on.

  She kept running. She kept waiting to see Jamal come bounding toward her. She needed him to come into view. She willed him to materialize before her. She half expected to manifest Jamal to come around the corner.

  She heard a loud bang, then another one. She jerked her head to the left, in the direction the truck was approaching from. Her first thought was Jamal had heard her scream and came to take care of the semi. She quickly realized Jamal would have no way of knowing the semi was a threat. She stopped and turned toward the sound. Just as she turned to her left, she caught a speeding blur zip by on her right side.

  He is here!

  Cass spun back around.

  “Thank God! Jamal. I was afraid you had left, already. Or didn’t hear my scream. We gotta hurry up and…”

  “I thought I smelled a rat, back at my warehouse. But I guess I was wrong. You’re no rat. You’re the raven that’s been messing with my supply chain.”

  The blood drained from Cassandra’s face as she turned to see the towering nightmare before her. For the first time since the Kai’den recruited her, one hundred sixty-seven years earlier, Cassandra Sanger felt true despair. Standing before her was the Drol’ka’Choth from earlier. In that moment, she knew that not even Jamal could save her…but she couldn’t help but call for him, anyway.

  “JAAAAAAAA…MAAAAAAAAAAAALLL!”