The trees were starting to thicken, exactly as they'd thought they would. They were nearing a group of Tiger shifters. The most important catch, the Siberian Tiger, the woman. Raymond didn't know her name, and he didn't need to. To him, she was just another catch. Prey to his Hunter.
He didn't do this job out of any real need. He didn't need more money, he wanted it. In the circles he ran in, Tiger skins were worth a lot of money. There was a certain type of Witch in particular, a Walker, that would be interested in these skins. The Walker's magic, allowed them to, when wearing the skin of an animal, change into that animal.
Raymond's lip curled in disgust. The supernatural world was abhorrent to him. He was born a part of it, and always wished he hadn't been. He was a Shaman. The spawn of a Witch and a Human man. He didn't know either of his parents, and for that he was glad. He barely acknowledged his heritage. The only thing it had done for him was make his job, very easy.
As a Shaman, he was practically a paranormal sniffer dog, always knowing what was around him. That was it though. He had seen one or two powerful Shaman's, with abilities, like a Witch or Warlock possess. He had never been one of them.
He moved through the forest with steady, sure steps, relishing the moment as they snuck up on one of the Tiger's. A large one, Bengal, he thought, was sunning itself by a small pool of water. The sunlight peeking from the trees to light up the area. They were so close, metres away, and the animal still hadn't noticed.
He levelled his tranq gun, ready to fire. He used a tranquiliser because it was always easier to skin them when they were still alive. Easier to force them to stay in one shape. He had a nifty concoction in his dart, DMSO, to help carry silver nitrate into the system. Silver wasn't fatal to shifters, or werewolves, or many of the things he hunted. But it could force their cells to stay in one shape, rendering their shifting abilities useless.
One of the team stepped forward, jumping the gun, their foot snapping a twig. The Beast stirred, head whipping up in their direction. Fuck! Raymond cursed under his breath. It didn't take a genius to know they'd been spotted. Within seconds of lifting its head, the giant beast was up and running, more agile than Raymond had thought.
He started to run after it, knowing he could never keep up, but he could track it. It would lead him back to the others. He watched it gain speed, an orange glow bathing it, when it jumped a log, it landed, no longer a Tiger, but a woman. A butt naked, red headed woman. She could still run like the wind.
Raymond peered into the distance, smiling in satisfaction as he noticed the blood streaking her side. She injured herself. Good. Easier to track. He turned, putting up a hand, letting loose a high pitched whistle. His team stopped on the spot. Good men. Some of them were Supernatural, and Raymond only allowed them to stay because they were useful.
He turned to the one small boy, with russet brown hair, who looked completely out of place. "Daniel, shift, track her." He nodded dutifully, stripping off his clothes. The boy was covered in an odd blue glow, and within the blink of an eye, he had changed. He was no longer the scrawny boy, but a large Bloodhound.
Raymond smiled. Those fucking Cats weren't getting away this time.