Weapons chattered and their deadly stingers hissed through the air. In the glare of the spotlights from the water, men on the beach staggered and fell. Their boat exploded and threw a ball of fire into the night sky.

The heat splashed against my snout and I melted into the shadows.

Johnson ran across the sand toward me. Tufts of sand erupted around his feet.

No, Johnson was mine. My front paws clawed at the ground in anticipation.

When he was close to the brush, he screamed and fell to his knees, wounded by a bullet. Another beam ensnared him, the two shafts of light holding him like pincers.

I yelped in distress at losing my prey. Bounding from the shadows and onto the edge of the beach, I lunged for Johnson and leaped into the brilliance surrounding him.

Our eyes met and his opened wide with terror. I wanted him to whimper and wet his pants in fright. I locked my jaws on the garment around his neck and dragged him into the brush, my vampire-wolf strength easily handling his weight. His human odor swirled through my nose, bringing the smell of warm blood, insect repellent, gasoline, and terror. Johnson grasped my foreleg and I shook him until he let go.

Wild and noisy shooting surrounded us. One of the lights sweeping over us went dark. The second light swung across the beach to follow the men dashing from the burning boat and toward the brush.

Hurriedly, I pulled Johnson deeper into the undergrowth. Branches and stiff reeds scraped against us. Letting go, I stepped away, not sure of what to do next. I needed him to answer my questions, and, as a wolf, I couldn’t hold a conversation in English. I doubted he would wait patiently while I transmutated back into a vampire.

Johnson brought his legs under him and kneeled. He clutched his side and grimaced with pain. In a pathetic human gesture, he clung to the bag of money strapped around his neck. He gazed at me and back to the beach, looking amazed that I had saved him. His aura blazed with frightened confusion and then with angry determination.

He brought his hand weapon up and fired at me. I sprang to one side. He lurched to his feet. I readied to pounce on him.

The flying machine roared over us. The thumping of its wings pounded my ears. A bright light stabbed through the trees and dazzled me. I leaped into the shadows. When I turned around, Johnson was gone.

The flying machine circled above, the wind from its whirling wings beating the treetops and scattering palm fronds. Its light hunted for prey. A swarm of bullets snapped at the brush.

I darted through a dark grove of tangled vines. I sniffed deeply, turning my snout from side to side. To my left, I found the meaty scent of Johnson’s blood.

Mindful of the flying machine, I kept low and padded out from the vines and through a thick patch of tall grass.

Up ahead. The red haze of a human aura. Johnson.

I sprang into a gallop. Johnson’s scent grew stronger.

As I bounded over a fallen log, I saw Johnson running to where he had left his boat. He clawed at branches whipping against his face. I circled to ambush him.

Johnson reached a clearing and slowed to a limp. He looked over one shoulder back in the direction of the shooting. The flying machine hovered over the fighting. Its beam of light sliced through the night.

I crept into a black hollow between two palmettos and waited.

Johnson emerged from the clearing and came straight at me. He limped, favoring his right leg. He held the money bag tight against his chest while a stain grew on the side of his torso. Moonlight glinted off his weapon.

I flexed my legs and bared my fangs. The muscles on the back of my neck tightened and the fur bristled.

Johnson stopped. He looked about, as if realizing that he was being watched.

Silently, I stepped forward, closing in for the attack.

Johnson’s shiny eyes searched the gloom. The two black orbs of his pupils locked upon me. He raised his weapon in my direction.

“What are you?” he whispered to himself. Adrenaline and desperation tainted his scent.

Being a wolf, I couldn’t answer.

Johnson winced, his expression distorted with confusion. He adjusted his grip on the bag.

I put one paw forward.

Johnson motioned with his weapon and I stayed still.

I stared at his neck.

Johnson’s aura shimmered with deliberation, as if he was wondering what to do about me. His aura flared, signaling an attack.

I jumped away. His bullets pumped at the brush and the blasts slapped my ears. I bounded around him, weaving back and forth to confuse him.

His weapon went silent. I lunged and jammed my paws against his chest. His arms beat my flanks. My teeth snapped at his throat, tearing flesh and tasting delicious blood.

Johnson fell. I tumbled over him. I set my jaws for the final bite. Something hard thumped against my skull and I staggered away, momentarily dazed.

Johnson crouched, keeping the weapon high over his shoulder to use as a club. Blood seeped from his neck.

I circled, looking for the chance to strike again. Like any wounded animal, Johnson was desperate and still dangerous, but so was I.

The flying machine returned, a noisy blur of wings and flashing lights. Its noise beat my ears and shook my insides. The beam of light speared Johnson. He bared his clenched teeth and looked like a cornered rat.

Holes appeared on his chest. Blood sprayed into the light. Johnson fell backward, his legs twisted beneath him. His aura burned with terror and pain, glistened vainly for an instant, then vanished.

My best lead in this case was dead.

A shaft of light hunted for me. I slunk back and hid until the flying machine left.

I sniffed Johnson’s body, now a lifeless, bloodied heap.

The humans in the flying machine had cheated me. I snarled at them, frustrated. Angry.

In the distance, lights swung through the brush, silhouetting a line of men and their weapons against the glow of the burning boat. The fighting on the beach had stopped, the last echo of gunshots disappearing into the night. Above, the flying machine circled with the chop, chop of its wings drumming against my ears.

I didn’t have much time to search Johnson, and I couldn’t do so as a wolf.

I lay in a smooth patch of sand. Closing my eyes, I summoned the transformation back into a vampire. My legs stretched from their sockets, elongating and twisting as pain surged through my bones. Skin burned where fur retracted into flesh. The worst of the agony was when my snout blunted and my skull and jaws re-formed.

I opened my eyes. The pain ebbed and my muscles relaxed. As I gazed about, the world seemed emptier, the sounds duller, the smells fainter.

Naked, I rolled to my hands and knees.

The line of men moved closer. Radio calls and static crackled through the night. The helicopter hovered above, shepherding the group with its searchlight.

I crawled to Johnson’s body. I pulled the satchel with the money from his shoulder, opened the bag, and thumbed the pads of hundred-dollar bills, estimating a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. No sense in wasting the cash. I looped the satchel’s strap over my head. Searching his pockets, I found a magazine of ammunition, cigarettes, a lighter, keys, a coke spoon, coins, and his wallet.

A loudspeaker boomed over the island. “This is the United States Drug Enforcement Administration and the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office.”

The Sheriff’s Office? Johnson, the stupid criminal bastard, had betrayed his own. This death might have been a favor.

The loudspeaker continued: “You are surrounded and outgunned. Put down your weapons and come out with your hands behind your head.” The message was repeated in Spanish.