The Night Beat

with a lot of this knowledge in you -- at least, you were supposed to.
    I figured I’d screwed up Jack’s transition somehow, which wasn’t too much of a surprise. I’d never made another werewolf before. There had never been a need or an older, more experienced werewolf or undead was with me and made the determination. Since he’d joined up and made it through basic training, Ken had made all the transition decisions for our unit. I could understand why he was upset with me -- precedent alone said I’d overstepped my bounds, let alone the situation.
    “We need to figure out who the mole is.” I realized the base of my tail was what had shoved that statement out, not my conscious mind.
    Jack shrugged. “Could be anyone. Probably one of the ones you’re closest to. If I were going to bet, I’d put my money on Ken, Ralph or Monty. Though really, it could be any of them.”
    This didn’t make me feel warm and snuggly. “Maybe we don’t have a mole.” This was wishful thinking. I knew we did, and my tail agreed.
    “Oh, I’m sure we do.” He stroked my face. “But you can count on me. I’ve got your back.”
    “And I’ve got yours.” I couldn’t let it go, though. “But, wouldn’t we have spotted something , if we had a mole?”
    “Don’t know. I mean, our side has moles in the Prince’s ranks, right?”
    “I guess. I don’t work that side of undercover. Just the human side.”
    Jack gave me a searching look, like I’d seen him give a perp we knew was lying. “Come on, Vic. I’m on your side. We need to determine who the mole is, you’re right. So, does our side have double agents?”
    “Yes. But I don’t know who any of them are.” This was true enough that I could get it past Jack. I hoped.
    “So, they have double agents, too. And it should be someone we’d never suspect, right? Or else, they’re a pretty crappy double agent.”
    “I guess.”
    I didn’t want to stay on topic now, but Jack pressed on. “So, maybe it’s a like for like thing. Say it’s Monty who’s the mole. Who would be his counterpart on the Prince’s side? Or Ralph’s or Ken’s?”
    I considered this. “I have no idea.” I didn’t. I wasn’t clear on the Prince’s real hierarchy. You had your major minions and your lesser minions. But if they were set up like Necropolis Enforcement or not, I didn’t know for certain. Nor did it seem remotely relevant.
    “Is the Count the right counterpart to the Prince?”
    “Not…not really.” I rubbed my forehead. “We don’t line up like they do, I don’t think. Our leaders are the Gods and Monsters.”
    “You mean the beings who never show up when you need them?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Jack snorted in disgust. “Where were the Gods and Monsters today when we needed them? Nowhere around.”
    “They work through us, mostly.”
    “Right. Bang up job today.”
    “We’re all still here, and you said you didn’t mind being undead.”
    “I don’t. I just think that maybe our side’s not listening to the right leaders. Or rather, our leaders aren’t taking much of an active interest.”
    “They do. They’re always there when we really need them.” I considered mentioning that Yahweh and Usen had saved me when I’d really needed it but refrained.
    “Won’t matter.” Jack got out of bed, stretched again, shifted between human, wolf, and werewolf forms for a bit, then trotted to the bathroom. “Whatever comes, we’ll handle it,” he called as I heard the shower start.
    This was odd behavior on top of odd behavior, for Jack and for a newly turned werewolf. Canines weren’t enamored with bathing. We did it because it was expected of us, but a werewolf pack out in the field could and would enthusiastically roll in dung before they’d willingly take a bath. We were animals and animals liked to smell like they should, not like perfumes and soap.
    In the time I’d known him, I couldn’t recall Ralph ever trotting off to shower after a big battle. I never did it, either. We bathed daily, but because we had to fit in, not because we wanted to. But I could hear Jack, happily humming away, while the smell of soap wafted through this side of my apartment.
    The realization that something was wrong and I had no idea of what to do reared up and waved its paw at me. If Black Wolf had still been unalive, I’d have called him for guidance. I’d have done the same with any of his pack. But they were all dead, killed off one by one. It