Stupid. That was all he could think of, the only reason he could reason the were not realizing when it was cornered and taking silently off. The were was just plain stupid.
Or suicidal.
Instead of running, like the were should have done, the stupid beast just plomped its butt on his truck and started munching away! Caleb had never claimed any sort of mastery over his temper, but just watching the were on his truck had blood boiling behind his eyes until all he could see was red. Before he even registered what he was doing, his eyes were scanning the area, preparing for the fight that was now surely inevitable. He was actually more like a were in that way- in his mind, the next step after polite requests was always blood shedding.
The block above and below this particular strip was empty of sidewalk traffic- it had already gotten too late for tourist-y meandering, and most people would either be wanting a movie theater or a mall to spend their evening, both of which could only be found in the next town over. This was good for two different reasons: first, there would be no witnesses/human collateral damage to become involved in their duel; second, there were no human-guised wolves around to come to this were’s aid. Just like their forest-dwelling brothers, werewolves live and travel in packs, and are notoriously hard to beat because they never traveled without at least one of their pack mates within easy and visible distance to help in a fight. The fact that this one was alone must have meant that it was a lone wolf, pack-less and partner-less. Which only meant good things for Caleb.
He certainly had weapons on hand- two more of those same thin and easily concealable blades were tucked in either of his pant cuffs, along with the one in his hand and the one he had already used; regular guns were all but useless against some of the foes he went up against, but there was a customized gun tucked in the small of his back against his waistband. Unfortunately, the holy-water and silver-nitrate capsule bullets that were custom-made for both vamps and weres, respectively, were somewhere in the trunk of his car. Other than that, he had steel-capped baton, knuckle-braces, and a wad of chewed gum in his back pocket. Not what he would have chosen if he had known he was going to go head-to-head with a pint-sized werewolf this morning, but he had survived worse situations.
Besides, some of his weapons he was saving especially for his prey.
Caleb took a few steps forward, slowly and smiling like the deranged idiot he secretly guessed he was, his right hand reached for the baton hidden under his jacket…
And then the clinic door opened.
Doc’s back was to Caleb, and for a split second, he considered knocking him out to keep him out of the way of the fight. But then Doc noticed the were on his truck, and the old man rolled his eyes. “What the hell are you doing up there? Get off! Now! Before I tell your keeper you’ve been getting into trouble again! Go!”