Glamour Bites

Harper Linton had a presence that demanded attention, even from across the room. I could see it and I knew that every other person in the room could see it as well. I could also see that it had nothing to do with preternatural abilities and everything to do with his voice and his looks.



He was only a few years older than me with short cropped black hair. He had black squared rimmed glasses that framed intense hazel eyes that made me think he was hunting as they scanned the crowd. He was thin, but athletic looking, and even at the back of the large auditorium and surrounded by sweaty bodies I could smell fresh wood shavings coming off him. There was only one way that he could smell so much like nature, so inviting to my senses, and I wasn’t going to jump to that conclusion just yet.



As I kept keen, steady eyes on Harper, looking with the vampyre powers inside me, the rest of the band began to trickle onto the stage from their little break. The drummer came on first, drawing my attention to him, quickly going over the file on him that I had read through earlier, comparing everything in it on him to his appearance, as I had done with Harper.



Gabriel Taylor was also a few years older than me, no surprise there, with a clean shaven baby face. He had longer hair than Harper, it barely grazing his shoulders and hanging in his face, but it was the same shade of black as the lead vocalist’s, both probably from a bottle. His chocolate brown eyes held excitement as they scanned the crowd, briefly glimpsing me in the back corner close to the exit. Like Harper, he smelled of nature, though his scent was more of damp dirt and caves.



I had a brief moment to contemplate what creature the young drummer could be based on his scent when the guitarist, and Gabriel’s brother, Matthew Taylor, walked onto the stage, instrument in hand. His scent was the first thing you noticed. It was a heavy smell like air just after a heavy spring or summer shower, almost overpowering. When you got over the overpowering scent of him, his appearance became clear. His hair was a dirty blonde, almost light brown, shaggy as he hung around his shoulders. Heavy stubble, not quite a beard, was on his face, making him look as rough as his eyes made him out to be.



And what roughness he had in his eyes. They met mine, piercing, predatory. My hand went to my gun instinctively just as the last member of the band came onto the stage. Ian Donne had a familiarity to him. His hair was ebony black and spiked an inch or two above his head. Even from across the room I knew that he was taller than the others, looking to be able six foot two, or three. His dark complexion held in the familiarity I felt for him, but I gasped audibly as I saw his eyes. They were hazel, but that didn’t even do them justice. From the pupil to the rim of his iris there were almost luminescent green streaks, making his eyes pop out at the crowd.



I stood at the back of auditorium at the loss of words for the person I now recognized in from of me as a childhood friend of mine. He had changed his name, yes, but no one could hide those eyes. It wasn’t until I noticed who he was that I caught his scent. As a child, when he was known as Donovan Carlisle, he had always smelled like dirt and little boy, but the scent of wet leaves and earth coming off him wasn’t something any human could have about them.



As the music began, Ian leading them off, the room erupted into applause and I took the opportunity to sneak out of the exit near where I was standing. I cleared the crowd outside who hadn’t been able to get tickets and slipped into a side alley, laying my head back against the wall. My hand rested on my gun as I started to think, trying not to panic.



They were Lycans. All four of them. And one of them had been a friend of mine! What was I going to do? First, I had to determine if they were a threat to the humans around them. They were entertainers and never scheduled concerts on the night of the full moon. So therefore, not a threat.



Next question, what were they? In order to understand your prey, you must know what you were dealing with, so I closed my eyes and “tasted” their scents in my head. It was a time consuming event and only vampyres and Lycans had the ability to do this, so I knew I could do it, I just hoped I had time before the concert ended.



As I had in the auditorium, I started with Harper, “tasting” his scent in my head. With the scent in my head, I opened my mind to what animal would have the rich scent of carved wood. Images flooded my mind and I was suddenly lost in the prairies and forest of Africa, chasing gazelle. Harper had to be a leopard of some kind, either spotted or black.



I turned to Gabriel and the scent of caves. I had an urge to sleep and knew he was a bear without going deeper into it, heading into Matthew without even waiting for the transition. I went from being into a deep dark cave into the sky, soaring as the wind rushed through my wings. Wings? A Lycan hawk? There hadn’t been one of those known in centuries.



I shook my head and calmed my nerves, before turning to Ian. Earth and wet leaves filled my nostrils as my thoughts turned to him, but I didn’t get the same images I had gotten with the other boys. I was taken back to when I was younger and Ian was known as Donovan. Back to the simpler days when Aunt Sarah was alive and I was happy. He would come over to the house every day and we would run into the woods and follow the old wolf trails, basking in the wilderness around us.



That was it though, wasn’t it? He was a wolf. He had always loved the animals and made came dangerously close to where they hunted, always wanted to have something to do with the wolves that roamed around the woods. His room, his wardrobe, his everything had had something to do with wolves. It was so obvious, I felt stupid for not thinking of it before.



I stepped away from the wall and looked toward the back entrance of the auditorium where they were performing. I could use my US Marshall Badge that all bounty hunters were given to get into the back entrance, but what would I say? You have to get out of the country or I’m going to kill you? That didn’t seem like the best thing to say to someone you had pretty much adored as a child.



I sighed and looked back at the entrance of the building. A crowd of people were coming out which meant that I didn’t have enough time to decide what to do properly. It was now or never, and Mike wasn’t one to wait for never.

I took a deep breath and tried to pull the tight black leather vest I wore down over my midriff, with no success, pulled my jacket tighter around me, and slipped my badge into my hand.



Walking to the back door, I opened it with out preamble and flashed my badge at the guard, telling him it was official business. He let me through without a fight and I was pointed toward the guys’ dressing room. It wasn’t until I was five feet from the guard that the true realization of what I was about to do hit me. What the hell was I going to say to them? Guess it was too late to be asking myself that now.