As Grud drove around the residential neighborhood looking for a good spot to dump the truck, he also had his eye out for a suitable patsy.

Old humans were the best for what he needed, especially those with weakening minds. They were the easiest to thrall. And if the mind manipulation caused them damage, some human aging brain disease would get blamed instead of anyone looking for a supernatural cause.

Not that the Brotherhood cared about such things. But Grud was on his own and wasn’t sure how long he would need to hide in an old human’s house. A grown child might call and notice their parent’s mental ability dropping too quickly and come to investigate. But if the parent was already suffering from age-related brain disease, they would think nothing of it.

He spotted his victim from a mile away. The old human was walking a large dog. Or rather the dog was walking him, which meant that the human’s house was close by. The way the guy was shuffling his feet, he couldn’t have walked far. The dog was no problem either. Grud knew how to manipulate the animal’s tiny brain too. They were easy. One terrifying image planted into its brain and even the largest dog would cower before him.

He parked and waited.

The good thing about driving the old clunker was that no one paid attention to a gardener’s truck even if they’d never seen it drive through their neighborhood before. Gardeners came and went unnoticed the same way servants used to in rich people’s houses.

It was such a shame he had to get rid of it.

Since Grud had made sure not to kill the guy he’d stolen the truck from, he wasn’t worried about the human police chasing after him. A stolen vehicle was not a priority for them the way a murder investigation would have been.

Nevertheless, the gardener was going to report the truck missing, and the license plate number would be entered into the police database.

It was better not to take the risk of being spotted driving a stolen vehicle.

Grud didn’t have to wait long for the old man to reach his house.

As the old man turned into the driveway, an equally old woman opened the front door. He waved at his wife and unhooked the leash from the dog’s collar. Tail wagging, the dog trotted to the front door and pushed his head under the woman’s hand for a pat.

The man stopped by the mailbox, took out a stack of papers, and then followed his dog.

Perfect.

Both old-timers seemed to be in functioning condition. The woman could cook for Grud, and the man could run errands. And after he showed the dog who was the boss, the animal would probably stay out of his way.

Lifting the gardener's phone from the passenger seat, Grud snapped a picture of the house so he could find it later.

Mortdh, he was such a fucking idiot.

He wasn’t going to keep the gardener’s phone and lead whoever was looking for the guy’s vehicle right to the house he was going to appropriate.

First, he trashed the picture he’d taken and then scribbled the address on an old receipt he’d found in the glove compartment.

The real challenge would be to find the right place to get rid of the truck, the phone, and the gardener’s wallet—somewhere that could hide the vehicle, but at the same time be walking distance away from the old couple’s home.

After driving around the entire neighborhood twice, Grud realized that there was no such a place. No supermarket to hide the truck among all the other vehicles, and no wooded area to hide it behind bushes.

On his third round, a ‘for sale’ sign caught his attention.

The house seemed vacant, and what’s more, its garage was at the back of the property with a long driveway leading to it. He could park the truck in the backyard of the house so it would be hidden by the structure and not visible from the street. And if he were really lucky, the garage wouldn’t be filled with stuff, and he could park it there.

Thank Mortdh, his luck held.

The garage door was unlocked. Grud lifted it with ease, drove the truck inside, and then pulled the door closed. Unless potential buyers wanted to inspect the separate structure, there was a good chance the vehicle wouldn’t get discovered until the house was sold.

Getting rid of the smaller items was much easier. He smashed the phone with a rock, dug a small hole in the ground, and buried it there together with the wallet.

The last hurdle was to get to the old couple’s home unnoticed. He still had no shoes and looked like a homeless vagabond. Luckily, the feature he hated most, his tightly curled hair, prevented his unkempt beard from reaching down to his chest. It hadn’t got trimmed in months and was one messy tangle. His hair was in no better shape.

After he thralled the old couple and sent the woman to cook him a decent meal, he was going to take a long hot shower and trim that jungle. The best thing would have been to get rid of it all together, but Grud still hadn’t made his final decision regarding the Brotherhood.

Just in case he needed to go back, it was better to at least leave some stubble. Mortdh’s teachings specifically forbade shaving. Males were supposed to take pride in their manliness and not try to look like females. Showing up with a smooth-shaven face was almost as bad as showing up wearing a dress.

Grud brushed the dust off his clothes. Other than adopting the right attitude, it was all he could do about his appearance.

Instead of slinking along the shadows, he decided to jog to the old couple’s house. Holding his head high and pumping his arms, he looked like any other human out for a run, only barefoot and a little shaggy. Fortunately, there was no shortage of weird humans, especially not in this area. He’d seen a bald male wearing red lipstick, and a homeless man holding the latest smartphone. A shaggy male running barefoot shouldn’t raise anyone’s eyebrows.