 
# **Contents**

Copyright

Olivia J Braddock: Dedication

G Thomas Martin: Dedication

Title Page

PROLOGUE - THE BEGINNING

Chapter One DECEMBER 20, 2010

Chapter Two A NEW YEAR

Chapter Three DEAD GIRL WALKING

Chapter Four REVELATION

Chapter Five ELEVEN DAYS OF MISSING

Chapter Six A BLOODY AWAKENING

Chapter Seven THE FORGETFUL GIRL

Chapter Eight ONLY TWENTY ONE

Chapter Nine WEREWOLF 101

Chapter Ten COFFEE WITH A SIDE OF LIES

Chapter Eleven FIST OF CALANEDH

Chapter Twelve FAMILY FEUD

Chapter Thirteen GOODBYE

Chapter Fourteen A ROGUE EXPLANATION

Chapter Fifteen DOWN RIGHT DIFFERENT

Chapter Sixteen FULL MOON RISING

Chapter Seventeen EPILOGUE - ROGUE 
AN AWAITED RECKONING

COVER DESIGN BY

OLIVA J BRADDOCK

NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL MEANS INCLUDING INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEMS, WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE AUTHORS. THE ONLY EXCEPTION IS BY A REVIEWER, WHO MAY QUOTE SHORT EXCERPTS IN A BOOK REVIEW.

THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS EITHER ARE PRODUCTS OF THE AUTHOR'S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

OLIVIA J BRADDOCK & G THOMAS MARTIN

WWW.SOLSTICEMOONSERIES.COM

Copyright © 2012 Braddock Media

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-9918217-7-8

Olivia J Braddock: Dedication

To my Mom, Dad, Sister, Brother-in-law, and my nephews Cal & Asher, you are my inspiration and motivation to succeed.

To G Thomas Martain, my Co-Creator, and friend. Thank you for helping me breathe life into this brand-new version of The Awaited Reckoning. I cannot wait to see where this journey leads.

Special thanks

Thank you, Lev Saeybin Scanlon, for your editing and proofing skills, as well as Laurel Adam, Lindsay Kowlchuck, Candice Woodward and of course, my Mom. Without your eagle eyes and creative input, this book would not be as polished as it is.

Thank you to my smashing friends and to the incredible people on social media who have supported this project. To all the friends who are no longer living. I miss you, and I wish you were still here with me.

Thank you, Eshu Martin, for information on meditation/Buddhism and the Victoria Police Department for answering all of our questions on crime scene etiquette.

G Thomas Martin: Dedication

To my spouse Bill: Thank you for always supporting my wild and crazy ideas. I couldn't do it without you.

For my writing partner Olivia: I never imagined being involved in a project like this, and I cannot thank you enough for including me. Together we can break the world.

**An Awaited **

**Reckoning**

By

Olivia J Braddock

&

G Thomas Martin

WWW.SOLSTICEMOONSERIES.COM
****

PROLOGUE

THE BEGINNING

45 A.D.

The lower hillsides were covered in a patchwork of vivid greens with hues of brass. His brow creased as Wylyn looked over the top wall of the hill fort. It was hard to believe that in all of this beauty, death lay just beyond his sight. Fear grasped at his gut. Knowing what the future may hold for his people, he turned and ran down the rock stairway and through a tunnel entrance into the ground below. Wylyn's vision quickly adjusted to the dimness of the underground passageways. The damp walls rushed past him as he raced through the dark cave.

After several minutes of running he was panting, nearly breathless as he came to a halt at the entrance to a large chamber. Wylyn stood, waiting patiently for the right moment to enter.

At sixteen the boy did not have the typical appearance of his fellow clansmen. Where the Dummonii people were proud warriors with muscular, broad builds, Wylyn was slender and lean; his features were almost delicate. In the past season he had shot up a full head taller than most of the other men of the tribe. The young man continually found himself slouching and tripping over his own feet as he adjusted to his new body. Unlike his father, Wylyn was shy, almost gentle, a rare quality for one of the Dummonii.

This civilization of brave warriors held their position in relative isolation at the southwest end of the island. In days past, emissaries would be chosen to accompany the clan's druids to visit other tribes in the region. The Druids would trade and collect rare ingredients for potions. If allowed, they would partake in the tribes' rituals and sacrifices to learn about their Gods. Now, the druids feared that the strength of their lineage and might of their God, Dumnonos, would not be enough to survive these dark times.

Over thousands of years, the Dummonii clan had never once worried about an oncoming force -until now. Brave warriors from other tribes had been arriving in their territory over the last few months, each bringing the same tales of bloodshed and horror. Their conquered villages were reduced into ash, bodies of their people violated, and monuments to their Gods destroyed. These stories began to poison the minds of Wylyn's clan, seeding their ferocity with uncertainty, and this uncertainty was now growing into fear.

They fortified their settlements with the aid of the refugees from the neighboring Durotriges. News of the battle at Mai Dun had confirmed the worst of the Dumnoniis' fears; it would not be long before they would lose their culture, their lands, and most terrible of all, their Gods. The Romans showed no mercy in their vigilance. Where their weapons could not reach mattered not. Instead of brute force, they would make camp around the villages and hill forts, cutting off all means of escape as they starved their adversaries to death before moving on.

Clan Chief Emrys Faol was in the midst of preparing his finest warriors for an attack on the raiding parties, positioned a day's march to the east. He hoped that he would incite fear in the Romans and secure more refugees to help bolster his defenses.

Wylyn always felt to be a disappointment to his father; his lack of eagerness for bloodshed and battle, and his inability to wield his sword without hesitation were only a few reasons Wylyn felt inadequate in his father's shadow. He stood near, listening to his father's brave speech. The way he was able to enthrall and inspire his men was almost magic to Wylyn. How could he possibly help? Expecting to be berated once more, he finally stepped into the large chamber. Silence met him as he entered, and as he looked upon his father, Wylyn caught a very unfamiliar glimpse in his eyes. No one would dare question it, but Wylyn could see how the recent weeks had changed him.

During events of great importance such as this, Wylyn's father would have been accompanied by the eldest of the druids. However, Wylyn was not surprised by his absence from the great hall. The old man was now the last druid of their clan and would be heavily guarded just like their precious lands. Instead, his father found strength through his most trusted warrior: the metalsmith towering at his side. As Wylyn approached, in the full hearing of the gathered clansmen, his father addressed him with respect, which he had rarely done before.

"My son, Wylyn, and the future ruler of our people. Tonight we leave for battle, and if our gods are true, we shall return in greater numbers. Striking a blow against our enemies will be the turning point in this war." He paused. Wylyn could tell his father was unsure how to continue. "If they so choose, I may not return, and _you_ must do what is necessary for the survival of our people. Do you understand?"

Wylyn nodded solemnly. Though he understood it all, this would be a dire time to confess that he was not ready, and believed himself incapable of such an onerous request. Emrys had very seldom ever laid any real responsibility on Wylyn since he began his approach to manhood. His father had lost faith in his son's ability to follow in his footsteps long ago and cursed the gods many a night to be damned with such a child. It was only the reassurances of the Druid that encouraged Emrys to give this responsibility to Wylyn. To think that their circumstances had come to this moment left the clansmen in despair, as if this frail boy could somehow rise to the greatness of the man they now followed into battle.

The Chieftain walked across to Wylyn, placing a heavy hand on his son's shoulder as he looked gravely into his eyes. His gaze intensified as though searching Wylyn's mind for a faint sign of a warrior's resolve. In a quiet voice, he continued, "You shall be ruler when I am gone. You must find your courage, find it for our people. Without it, our ways and our knowledge will be lost, and our gods forgotten." The Smith stepped to his father's side, holding a sword outwards. While Emrys took it, offering it to his son as he nodded gravely. "Stay and protect the Druid. I will have the Smith guard both of you. If we do not return, you must pull the remainder of our people to the north. The Romans and their evil gods cannot sustain themselves in those lands as we can."

With hesitation, Wylyn took the sword from his father's hands and silently accepted the duties of a man and a Chieftain. It was all the answer Emrys required from his son.

As a small child, Wylyn had seen a hill fort kissed by lightning. Despite the rain, its wild nature ripped across the sky, setting one of the large roundhouses ablaze. He remembered the way the air had felt then, vibrating with hidden power. Equal to that night, the air around him felt that way now as he gripped the hilt of the sword. The warriors of the Dumnonii gave a fierce and jubilant cry as their elder Chieftain turned to them, shouting, promising in the coming days to send the Roman hoards into the arms of death.

Before leaving, the warriors formed a circle and began chanting prayers to their gods. They asked for God Dumnonos to lend them his might to strengthen their bodies and lay a blanket of fear upon the eyes of their enemies. After the ceremony, the Smith and Wylyn watched the men follow his father out the gates and into the sunset across to the east. The young chieftain turned to the Smith when the group faded into the distance. "What do I do now?"

"Order, do not ask. You are the chief now so act like one. You command; and we follow."

The Smith was never fond of Wylyn, nor of any man or woman who could not wield a sword.

Wylyn nodded. He coughed to clear his throat and give himself a moment to think. "Take the Druid down to his chamber. I will take watch." Wylyn's voice cracked as he desperately tried to muster a sound of confidence.

The Smith simply nodded before he ushered the Druid back into the underground tunnels. Wylyn climbed to the top of the wall, looking back at the direction where his clansman marched off to. This time, there would be no slacking off or falling asleep on his watch. He was not sure how, but Wylyn was determined to make his father proud in his absence.

Come sunset the next evening, Wylyn's eyes began to sting. Bleary-eyed from a difficult day waiting for news of his father, he continued to stare out to the east. A hand grasping his shoulder startled Wylyn from his vigil. He turned with his sword, only to stop in mid-swing before the blade was an inch away from the Druid.

"You shouldn't be here! The Smith will have my head." Wylyn looked around. "Wait, how did you get past him?"

"I go where I must and when I am needed. I have been your father's advisor and his father's before him. Now I will be yours. First, you must tell me the thoughts plaguing your mind."

"I'm scared that my father will never be proud of me." Wylyn didn't know why but he felt as if he had nothing to hide from the Druid.

"Your father will be proud." The old man reassured him.

"How?" Wylyn never understood the riddles the old man had for his father, and now he would have to solve them for himself.

"In death, we see everything and have the ability to see the future of our lineage. He _soon_ will know the future that you will find when faced with the eyes of death."

It was anything but a riddle this time. Wylyn's grip grew tight around his sword. Without hesitation, he bounded towards the stairs and the main gate. "Open the doors!" he commanded the warriors left to stand guard with him and the Smith. They grabbed at the large wood log barring the gate, heaving it up over their heads to let it drop to the ground. Pushing the gates, Wylyn slipped through a small crack before they could get them fully open.

From high above, the Druid watched the boy sprint into the sunset after his father. "You will be too late," his voice whispering across the valley.

In the chill of the night, Wylyn was panting. His heart was pounding hard as sweat poured from his forehead down to his cheeks. Never once relenting to his exhaustion, Wylyn ran all night, leaving the Druid and the Smith back at the hill fort against his father's orders. He slipped through the darkened landscape, heading north along the path the Dumnonii war party would have traveled. The attack should have already taken place. Why was no one coming back along this route shouting cries of victory? Could the Druid be right? Wylyn started to succumb to the fear of his father's fate. It was true that he was no warrior, but he was not enough of a coward to send someone in his place.

Knowing that the Smith would safely guard his people and the Druid, his conscience was unburdened. Wylyn convinced himself that those remaining at the hill fort would feel safer with the Smith than with him.

Just before dawn, he came upon a field of tall grass swaying in the night's wind. The cool breeze carried the scent of slaughter; fresh blood and smoldering ash filled his nostrils and stung his eyes. His stomach lurched with revulsion and fear at the copper scent. Like a seductress preying on her victims, the first hint of sunlight blushed across the sky and warmed his cheeks. With false hope, Wylyn parted the long grass and stepped cautiously forward into the clearing. The innocent warmth of the sun betrayed him as it also revealed the slaughter before him.

Bodies of his clansmen lay scattered about the blood-soaked earth. The male bodies were headless; the women had been gruesomely torn apart in ways that told of a less merciful fate. Picking his way through the stiffening corpses, he searched for his father among the fallen. These were men and women Wylyn had grown up with, and now they were gone. Decaying meat for the crows and maggots.

It wasn't long until he found _him_. In the middle of the killing field, driven deep into the trampled earth stood the shaft of a broken spear. Wylyn's hands shook with anger as he stood face to face with the head of his father; a trophy on display and a warning to all who would pass by. The sun grew brighter and in the pools of blood around him, the orange reflection of the morning light was the only life left: it shone filling the empty eyes gazing back. He reached across himself, unsheathing the sword his father had given him. As he fell to his knees, Wylyn drove the sword into the ground and let his rage spill out in a startled cry.

He had not given the sword much of a look until now. The handle gleamed in the sun, its hilt magnificently carved in tribute to a God that had evidently abandoned him. " _Where is it?"_ Wylyn looked around him; frantically he clawed at the mud, shifting his body in different directions. His eyes searched rapidly around the clearing as he stumbled to his feet. Finally, he realized that the Roman demons had taken his father's body with them. They knew this would prevent the fallen Chieftain from ever making his way into the world beyond; this was just another sign of their cruelty.

Wylyn used the sword to stand before tearing it from the ground and sheathing it at his side. With both hands, he slid his fingers through the blood-matted hair of his father's skull, grasping and pulling, until he freed it from the spear. Faced with a long day ahead, Wylyn turned his back to the seductive warmth of the sun and began his journey home. Now more than ever, he needed the council of the Druid and the Smith. These men were his father's most trusted allies, therefore now his own.

Something grew inside Wylyn that bloody dawn. The sensation of energy in the wake of the lightning, the surge he felt as his father gave him his sword, now filled his body and soul with electricity he could not explain. With new strength and a hatred of the Romans, Wylyn pushed himself onward. He would make it his life mission to fight against their every advance into his lands. During the long march home, his hand never left the hilt of his sword, and the severed head of his father remained cradled close at his side. Wylyn knew what had to be done.

With no surprise to Wylyn, the great hall was filled with the remaining warriors and regional tribe leaders. A lookout would have spotted him coming across the valley heading home.

This time, it was not their silence that received him. This time, it was the shock and murmured chatter at the sight of their fallen Chieftain's head in the arm of his son. With long strides, Wylyn crossed the room to place the head gently on the throne. "The Romans are coming for us next." He turned, giving no room for anyone else to speak. "My father died protecting our people, and with my last breath, I swear to protect it with my own!" He looked around the room, meeting the gazes of speculation and uncertainty.

From behind Wylyn boomed a voice that shook the room. It was the last voice he expected to hear.

"I will follow you and pledge my life" spoke the Smith, with all the conviction he could muster.

His wife, another warrior, stepped forward. "And I."

Other warriors who had fought beside the Smith stepped forward pledging their fealty to young Wylyn.

Slowly the energy in the room shifted, and the people were filled again with frail hope.

"What about the Druid? What does he think of this?" A voice came from the crowd.

Behind the speaker, in the entrance, the old man slowly shuffled to greet Wylyn. "This was always the will of the Gods; this was your destiny. I always told your father this day would come."

Wylyn turned to the room. "Does anyone challenge?"

This time, when the room fell silent, it was in the form of acceptance and solidarity to their new leader.

"I accept your allegiance. We will honor our fallen when we've won for the Romans are coming. Every able-bodied person must help fortify the walls and prepare for war. I want a small group to take all the children unable to fight along the northern coastline and around the soldiers coming from the east."

Once everyone was set on their tasks and the room mostly emptied, he turned to the Druid, asking for private counsel and inviting the Smith and his wife to join them. On hearing this, the remaining tribes-people left the room to give them their privacy.

"Tonight, we go to the gods and demand help."

The Smith looked above at the ceiling as if Wylyn's words would bring punishment from above. Wylyn never took the Smith for a superstitious man, but his gestures spoke otherwise.

"We ask the gods for guidance and help; it is not for us to demand." The Druid spoke in a tone that suggested more of a question than a fact.

Wylyn's mind was made up. "They have no choice, and I will not give it to them. We have worshiped them for thousands of years, endless offerings, and blind faith. The Romans will destroy everything, and with that, our Gods will die. No one will be left to remember them if they do not help us now."

"Our death would mean theirs," Siobhan spoke in support of Wylyn.

The Smith silently nodded alongside his wife.

"Then you've agreed. We shall go tonight to the stone altars by the forest. Each one of you must call upon a god of your choosing. If they appear to you, only then can you place your demands and deal with the consequences of our actions."

The words of the Druid would not budge Wylyn's resolve. The gods will listen or perish with his people.

A chill breeze fell upon the land as the full moon rose in the darkening sky. The three clansmen stood before a central stone table, encircled by several towering sarsens. Beams of moonlight began to illuminate the beautifully carved details on the surface of the sandstone, as the Druid entered through them toward the table. Wylyn stepped forward, placing their fallen leader's head in the middle of the table while the Smith and his wife moved around to opposite sides, creating four points. The Druid took his oak staff and pushed it into the ground between the table and himself, chanting words to implore the gods to bear witness.

Siobhan took a dagger from her belt and sliced the palm of her hand. She placed her bloodied palm down against the stone, closing her eyes in concentration while calling to the Old White Mother Caridwen, the wise goddess from the lands across the channel.

The Smith followed his wife, cutting deep into himself from across the table. With his blood, he called upon Govannon the Smith God. In rhythm with his wife and the Druid, his chanting grew louder. The sound of their voices echoed across the valley and over the hills.

Now came time for their young Chieftain to make his offering of blood. Wylyn drew his sword. Placing it against his forearm, he swiftly sliced it open, exposing the muscles and tendons beneath. He called upon Dumnonos and placed the ornate sword toward the center of the table, pointing at his father's head. The blood gushed down his arm trailed along the edge of the blade.

Their blood flowed into and along the carved channels, towards the center of the table. The Druid's voice grew louder as he chanted. The pain lent itself to their cries as his voice joined with theirs, urging their gods who would live on in worship to answer to their loyal followers.

Wylyn shouted into the sky. "Our people have given you their fealty. They have given you countless sacrifices honoring you time and time again. They need your help in order to survive the dark days ahead. Grant us our requests: avenge my father, and we will continue our faith and life-long dedication to those gods who would come to our aid."

Wylyn's father's head now rested within a ring of blood, just as the trio and the Druid were wreathed by the ancient stones and stars that circled above. From within the eyes of the lifeless face came a blazing light, as though the moon itself had somehow fallen into their sightless depths.

Wylyn, the Smith, and Siobhan fell to their knees, stricken with a wave of energy cascading from the center of the table. A pale blue flame engulfed the head, before spreading down along the blood trails towards the trio themselves. Benign flames ignited from their wounds, traveling up their arms until it encircled them in an aura connecting them together.

The Druid lifted his staff from the earth to the night sky. "Behold!" he cried out as they raised their heads. In front of them were the gods made whole, floating above the flames. They would now voice their demands and in return, live with the consequences of this night for all eternity.

Chapter One

DECEMBER 20, 2010

Devon knew _that_ feeling presenting itself to her. A feeling that had haunted her childhood and most of her adolescent life. The feeling she hated most.

Moments ago, the passing treetops looked as if they were ablaze as the sun set over the mountains. Devon was now halfway through her ocean crossing from Vancouver back to the city she had just left. During her travels, Devon's mind would usually be captivated by the passing islands or entranced by the white and black foam trailing from the propeller blades of the massive ferry. Instead, she gazed numbly out upon the black water drifting past feeling lost. The crossing of the ocean between Vancouver Island and Vancouver was a secret love of Devon's. Her adopted father Mark, moved across the water to Vancouver just over two years ago for a new job, but she never was short of excuses to visit the mainland whenever she could. Most people dreaded the rising ferry costs or would complain about the whole two hours it took for such a short trip. Devon tuned them out; there was something about the distinctive West Coast scenery and the ocean scent that always excited her. Today she stood freezing on the empty deck, too anxious to sit inside and too impatient to get _there_. The blue hue from her cell phone screen lit up the inside of her hood as she checked the time. It was only six pm. Another two hours and she would be back in Victoria, the city that for the last seven years she called home. Her outgoing call list read nothing but the same number over and over, repeating down the whole screen with the name Derrick beside it.

Derrick was one of the first few people Devon met when she came to Victoria. His father and him lived next door to Mark in a small two-bedroom house. Derrick was only a few months older than her, and the first guy Devon ever felt safe enough to let past her web of trust issues. After the transient upheaval of her youth, she moved in with Mark at the age of fourteen, where Devon's life became exceptionally different. Finally, she was safe, allowing herself to start untangling her inner labyrinth. Finding a family in the home of her adopted father, building real friendships, and falling in love with Derrick left Devon in a state of detachment from her past. Now like an old friend, _that_ feeling reacquainted itself just two weeks before spending Christmas with Derrick. If that wasn't bad enough, Derrick ended their relationship with a cryptic email telling Devon that he no longer wanted her in his life and that he was sorry. With no response to her replies, Devon felt misplaced. Staying in Victoria, alone and surrounded by reminders of Derrick, was not an option. Not wanting to burden friends with her emotional baggage, Devon decided to escape the island and headed over to Vancouver. Her father's company was just the shelter she needed from this emotional storm.

Devon had never really experienced the dissolving of a relationship on this level. She dated a few boys in her mid-teens that ended because her heart was never truly invested. It wasn't until they were nineteen when Derrick finally told her how he felt. His confession, of course, was a relief to Devon since she had just initiated their first kiss. Even so, her pride was not the kind to send her running to confront him like some crazy ex-girlfriend. She had witnessed friends of hers that had dealt with jealous exes and swore she would never become one of them. The reason for her venture across the water back to Victoria was more severe than a broken heart or torn ego. Devon had received a phone call from a mutual friend who told her that Derrick has been absent from work for over a week and was not returning anyone's calls. For the seven years she had known Derrick, he had never taken a day off work. Even when he was sick, he would push through the day, to not let anyone down. That phone call was the final push into action, but the real driving force of her heart was being a month late. In the coming days, Devon would receive a call from the clinic to prove or disprove her results after an at-home pregnancy test showed positive. Devon didn't want to discus it with him on this visit. Instead, she decided to wait to find out if the pregnancy was real before saying anything to him.

_That_ feeling presented itself again: churning her stomach like the propeller churned the water below. An old friend, she trusted this feeling more than she trusted most people. This feeling was her protector, a warning that always held true. Devon spent most of her childhood in and out of foster care and had learned early what the outcome of this feeling would bring. The outcome was this; Devon was going to lose.

In a daze, Devon stepped off a curb. What seemed like moments before, walking onto the bus platform outside the ferry had vanished in a sea of memories. She didn't even recall the ride, or how she got here, but she pushed on making her way across the empty road. Having come from living on the streets of downtown Vancouver, Devon was accustomed to being surrounded by real skyscrapers. She never crushed Derrick's excitement when he talked about the view from his eighth-story condo. It wasn't nearly as impressive as some of the condos she had been in, but all that mattered was that he was happy. Derrick had never left Vancouver Island, not even to cross the water to Vancouver. In a way, Devon found beauty in his simple nature. The height of his building might not have impressed her, but still to this day she was never sure how Derrick was able to afford such an extravagant place across from the park, especially on a meager bank tellers salary. Since they worked together at the bank, she knew what sort of income he had. She chalked it up to Derrick's savings; he had always been frugal with spending. At least, he used to be frugal. In the past year, he also started investing in his wardrobe. Not just in the quality of his clothes but also his style had drastically changed. If it was anyone other than Derrick, she might think that it was some façade, but with him it felt like a genuine attempt at self-improvement. Regardless of the changes, he still remained the sweet guy she fell in love with years ago.

Devon stumbled, lost in thought instead of looking where she was going. Her eyes searched for signs of light from the windows where Derrick's condo stood. There was nothing to be found except the darkness covering the buildings' skyline.

Devon's dark hair whipped across her face, stinging her already blushed cheeks as she pulled her scarf up to shield them from the December wind. The city of Victoria was indeed Vancouver's opposite when it came to the bustle of city life. Sometimes the streets were so vacant of people during the winter months that Devon could imagine that an apocalypse had come and gone, and only she remained. She quickened her pace in hopes to escape the beating of her pulse, which closely matched the still-present churning of her stomach. It was futile; her chest tightened with each beat the closer she got to the condominium. Inside her mind, she held a fleeting hope that for once in her life she was overreacting.

The racing thoughts in her mind briefly silenced as she stood in front of the intercom. "Merry Christmas to me," she said aloud. Her hand hovered over the pin pad wishing for some reason to turn her away and head back to the ferry. Someway to block the pain in her chest and not give in to all these emotions. Eight... Zero... One... Her fingers did the work for her almost out of muscle memory than actual thought. The clicking of the buzzer kept ringing through its first cycle until Devon heard the final click followed by static. "Come on Derrick, pick up." Devon pushed the intercom code again as if somehow this would change Derrick's disappearance in the world.

Shivering in the evening air, Devon had gotten the attention of the night guard Jackson. With a smile, he stood up from his desk and adjusted his uniform before making his way over to the front door. A gush of warm air enveloped Devon when Jackson leaned out. Up until that moment, she hadn't realized just how cold she was from the trip over. Devon knew the buzzer was not going to get her anywhere and that her relationship with the doorman might be her way into the building. Jackson had kept her company on nights when Derrick was late getting home from work. They mostly entertained each other with small talk. Until recent months, when their conversations were dominated by his excitement of soon becoming a father. No matter what the topic of the evening was, they always ended up debating over which late night pizza place was the best in the city: Zombies or The Joint. Devon wouldn't exactly say they were friends; they were more like friendly acquaintances. At least enough to be one to help her out right then.

"Good evening Miss Andrews. Mr. Ashton is pushing his luck leaving a beautiful woman out here all by herself."

"Hey, Jackson." Devon put on a fake smile as she pulled her scarf down exposing her face to the doorman.

"You must be freezing out here. Why don't you come in and wait for Mr. Ashton?" Jackson opened the door wide as he usually did, waving her in with a smile.

_Yes! First obstacle achieved!_ The lobby was her's. Devon slipped past Jackson's large frame as he held the door for her. The height of the building may not have been that spectacular, but the developers certainly knew how to attract the up and coming wealthy when they designed the interior. The entryway was bright and airy. Miniature trees and shrubs surrounded a small indoor water feature while potted plants softened the corners of the lobby. Devon remembered being impressed when Derrick first brought her here that these were actual live plants, not the artificial ones collecting dust like in so many entryways in the city. In the summer, they would burst into a riot of colors and scents, helping the lobby feel warm and inviting.

Devon knew that what she needed was not part of Jackson's job, which left her unsure of how to approach him. If she was completely honest with him, he might not be inclined to get involved. _Who in their right mind would?_ She thought. The personal problems of tenants in the building were undoubtedly not his concern, and it may even go against some "doorman's code of conduct." Devon wondered idly if such a thing existed. One thing was certain, without his help, she knew she wasn't going to get any further. "Thank you, Jackson. Also, you know it's Devon, not Miss Andrews."

"I do like to be professional when I can be; there isn't much in this world that calls for it these days."

"Well said." Devon put her hand on his arm, trying to create a closer connection. She wasn't the flirty type, and tactics such as these made her very uncomfortable. Still, anything to reach the further ground. "Actually, I'm not really waiting for Derrick."

Jackson shifted uncomfortably by Devon's statement, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I was just in Vancouver visiting my Dad for a bit of pre-Christmas celebrations when I received a call from one of our co-workers. She said Derrick hasn't been in the last week, and when I tried calling him, there was no answer. Everyone's just _so_ worried about him, including me. I was hoping we could check on him to make sure he's okay." She removed her hand from Jackson's arm to wipe at her eyes. Devon didn't need to act in order to look desperate or on the verge of tears. A twinge of guilt weighed on her as she took a deep breath. It was half of the truth, and hopefully enough to get the desired results.

"Well..." Jackson paused looking around the lobby. "Of course, we can. I do have to stretch my legs and start my next set of rounds anyway. Come to think about it. I haven't seen Mr. Ashton in a few days."

Devon's heart sunk, and her skin turned pale as the blood drained from her face.

It was apparent from her expression that he had said something wrong. In a desperate attempt to fix it he nervously continued, "We can go up together. I'm sure it's nothing." Faced with a woman on the verge of tears, Jackson continued to stumble on his words. "We don't want to have to fill out a missing person's report or anything," he chuckled. There was a pause as Jackson searched Devon face for a slight smile to his bad joke. Instead, he brought a new sense of panic to her distress. "Oh my god...sorry, I'm not very good at saying the right thing sometimes. You can ask my wife, serious foot in mouth syndrome." His awkwardness got Devon to laugh for the first time in days.

"Thank you, Jackson. I really appreciate it."

Inside the elevator, she pushed the eighth-floor button repeatedly as the door slowly closed. Devon had to take a couple of deep breaths to try to calm herself as her chest kept getting tighter.

Her anxious behavior was enough to make Jackson start questioning things. "Is everything okay with you and Mr. Ashton?"

Dammit, Devon knew it wasn't fair to Jackson and that she couldn't hide what was going on any longer. The right thing to do was to let him have it in all its brutal truth if that's what he wanted. "Honestly?"

"Yes honestly," He replied.

"We broke up two weeks ago, and I think I might be pregnant."

"Seriously?! Devon I could lose my job!" The elevator dinged, and the door opened to the eighth floor. Devon hopped out into the hallway before he could change his mind about helping her. Jackson placed his hand against the elevator door keeping it from closing. He glared at Devon, hoping she would get back into the elevator but instead, she stood still.

"Please hear me out." She waved at Jackson, inviting him into the hallway with her. She could tell he was hesitant, and she knew she had to get it all out before he had a chance to stop her. "I really don't want you to get in trouble."

"But..." Jackson tried to get a word in.

She cut him off. "Work honestly has not heard from him in a week. He hasn't answered anyone's calls. If you could, just knock on the door and see if he answers."

"And then what?" Jackson said confused at what else to do.

"If he answers, then he's just hiding. I will walk away and not say a word," Devon said in the calmest tone she could produce. There was nothing else to be said; she did everything she could to convince him that helping her was the right choice.

Jackson stood there contemplating her request. "Okay, fine, but you can't make a scene. Please, this is my job we are talking about. Plus, I have a baby on the way, Devon. Promise?"

Devon put her hand on her stomach, knowing all too well what Jackson was feeling. "I know, I know. If it weren't important, I wouldn't even be asking. I promise, not a word."

He nodded as he reluctantly followed her into the hallway. "Ok fine. He's probably just hiding in his man cave licking his wounds for being an idiot. I love my wife, but to break up with you? That makes Mr. Ashton a first-rate idiot." Jackson headed down the hall towards Derrick's door while shaking his head.

The door to Derrick's condo was around the corner just out of sight from the other units. To Devon, the last few feet felt like she was facing the last mile of a marathon. After traveling most of the day to get here, now, for some reason, she came to a stop. The hairs on the back of her neck started to stand on end, followed by an overwhelming sense of dread and sickness. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to get back into the elevator. What was she hoping to find? That Derrick was in there, safe and just acting like a jerk, or that something terrible had happened to him. Neither option was the one she wanted, but she had to find out. Devon obviously was not the only one sensing it: the wave of dread that stopped her body from moving had also stopped Jackson from taking the last two steps towards the door. His posture stiffened, and Devon knew it was now or never. Fighting the feeling in her stomach, _that_ feeling which had been with her since she got the call from work, she pushed herself past Jackson and knocked on Derrick's door. Not wanting to get caught, Devon tucked herself against the wall just out of view of the peephole.

The sound of her fist rapping at the door was enough to snap Jackson's feet forward. He nervously cleared his throat before calling out. "Um, Mister Ashton? It's Jackson, the night watchman." He looked at Devon while mouthing the words _what now_? At the same time shaking his hands in the air, not sure about how to proceed or what sort of explanation he could give to justify this intrusion into Mr. Ashton's privacy.

"Noise," Devon whispered.

Jackson shushed her with his finger in the air "The neighbors called about a noise disturbance on your floor. Are you okay?" His statement seemed ludicrous, as the hallway was devoid of sound. Even the everyday busyness of other tenants was absent. Usually, she could hear the chatter of a television set, or the clatter of dishes coming from behind the doors of the other units. Instead, there was nothing. The eerie silence clung in the air around them.

Devon stepped closer to the door, placing her ear against it, attempting to hear something.

_Squish_.

"What are you doing?" Jackson whispered, reaching out to pull her away.

This time, she shushed him with her finger raised to her lips. "I think I heard something." Adjusting her footing, she fully turned in towards the door as she heard the strange noise again. _Squish_. She looked down; finally realizing the sound was coming from under her feet. Beneath her in the dark blue fibers was a stain of black slowly creeping across the carpet from the bottom of Derrick's doorway. Devon rocked her foot back and forth creating the squishing sound before pulling her boot away from the rug.

"Is it water?" Jackson asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, unsure herself. Devon crouched down to take a closer look, placing her two fingers against the wet part of the rug. As she slowly lifted them, her hand began shaking. "Jackson, open the door." Her words were no longer hushed.

"What? Are you crazy? I can't just enter someone's suite without cause."

"Open the door, Jackson." Now smeared with crimson, Devon lifted her two fingers above her head towards his gaze. "It's blood!"

"Shit!" Jackson fumbled with the ring on his belt, struggling to find the master key.

_That_ feeling held true. Devon snapped, frantically slamming her hands on the door; leaving bloody marks across it like a child's finger painting. "Derrick! Open the door, Derrick answer me!"

Jackson finally found the right key; he pushed Devon aside and slid it into the keyhole. Her body tensed when a cold blast of air met them as he pushed on the door. A square of light from the hallway fell through the frame, stretching across the floor. The balcony was open, winter wind playing with the gauzy curtains as the hue from the street lights below danced across the dim unit. Devon could make out the pool of blood trailing a few feet across the hardwood floor.

"Derrick!" she ran to him, slipping on the trail of blood and falling just beside his body. Derrick lay propped up against the couch slightly curled clutching his abdomen. Scrambling on her hands and knees, she tried to grip against the sticky wet floor, so she could kneel in front of him. There was a reek of musk in the air and amongst the tang of iron was a faint hint of Derrick's cologne: something he only wore for special occasions. As his dark blood soaked through her jeans and covered her hands. Devon steadied herself, placing her hand on his pale face. She was shocked at how hot his skin felt; he was burning up. Her heart leaped with hope. "He's alive!" She shouted towards Jackson. "Derrick please wake up! Oh god, what happened?" The only response he could muster was a slight moan as he tightened his arms around his waist. She looked back at Jackson, who was standing frozen in the doorway. His face had turned pale, and his hands were shaking.

"Jackson! Call 9-1-1!!!" Devon pulled Derrick's hands away to see where the blood was coming from. A thick gush poured out from the side of his stomach. His wound was massive. "Oh god!" Devon quickly put pressure over the wound, trying to hold back the flow with her bare hands. The attempt was useless as the blood leaked forth through her fingers, causing her panic. "JACKSON, GODDAMMIT HELP HIM!" Devon shouted, looking around for something better to use to staunch the flow, and with one hand, she started unwinding her scarf, hoping it would do the job. "Hang on, Derrick!"

Finally, the security guard managed to pull out his phone. His shaking fingers attempted to dial 9-1-1, as his gaze froze on the massive pool of blood.

Derrick's eyes opened slightly, just enough to peer up at her, searching vaguely. "Devon, noo." His voice was no more than a ragged whisper.

"Oh god, Derrick what happened?" The mask of Devon's shock waned, tears welled up as she began to cry. She leaned down to kiss his lips. "Help is coming. You have to hold on."

Derrick moved his head slightly up to whisper in her ear. His words leaked out in a gasped breath that sent a chill up Devon's spine. " _It's_ still here."

A low animal growl rolled across the room, vibrating through Devon's chest. The sound originated from the deeper recesses of the condo, somewhere within the darkness of the bedroom hallway. The hairs feverishly stood up on the back of her neck as the same feeling of dread from the hallway washed over her. Derrick's words rattled in her mind: _It's still here_. A thud from the doorway pulled Devon's eyes toward Jackson. His face was locked in terror, staring past her into the darkness of the condo. While the glowing light from his phone now lay on the floor. _"9-1-1. Please state your emergency?..Hello?"_

As Jackson turned to run from the unseen threat, something razor-sharp tore into Devon's shoulder, sending ripping pain down her arm. The force knocked her forward and, in a fraction of a second, she felt the sickening give of her right-hand plunge wrist-deep through Derrick's gut causing his body to convulse violently. The pungent odor of musk now heavily mixed with the metallic smell of blood had engulfed her as Devon's head collided against the coffee table with an awful sound. For a brief couple of seconds, everything around her went black.

"Ughhh..." Devon struggled to lift her head from the floor, as everything violently spun, and vertigo overtook her senses. Portions of clouded detail were all she could make out as the room blurred against the waves of disorientation. Just below, Derrick's body lay sandwiched between her blood-soaked jeans and the hardwood floor. Still dazed, she blinked hard several times, trying again to clear the fog from her eyes. Devon fought to sit up against the agonizing burn in her head and the deep gash on her shoulder. What happened...Derrick, she mumbled before sliding her left arm out to brace it against the floor. As she lifted her torso, her movement was stopped short as something constricted around Devon's other wrist, holding it in place. When she looked down, her focus returned only to find her mind grappling with the horror unfolding around her. Oh, god, no! The words rang through her mind as she pulled frantically, finding her hand was stuck deep inside the contents of Derrick's stomach.

His intestinal fluids sloshed between her fingers as his body jerked like a rag doll from each pull. Nausea swept over her; forcing Devon to swallow against the bile trying to erupt from the pit of her stomach. A new surge of intense pain ripped down from her clawed shoulder, causing Devon's right arm to pull hard, freeing her wrist from Derrick's corpse. Immediately a sensation of fire perforated out into the skin as she grasped at the widening gash on her shoulder. Unable to stifle the cry that burst from her lips, she found her voice overshadowed out by the screams erupting from the doorway. Jackson! Devon had forgotten all about the doorman who had aided her in the search for her now-dead love. His aria of screams and tearing flesh were short-lived as she heard a brutal crunching sound. In the silence that followed, Devon's mind wheeled as she held her stomach. That tiny life that may be growing was all she had left of Derrick, and she wasn't going to let this thing take their child. Fueled by a new surge of adrenaline, she pulled herself up using the side of the broken coffee table and bolted drunkenly for the patio. It was crucial to escape whatever was blocking the doorway, or her silence would surely be next.

She heard the thump of Jackson's body hitting the floor, whatever finished tearing him apart had now turned its attention on her. The wind blew the curtains wildly as she hastily crossed the threshold of the balcony. Devon's body turned while she pulled against the glass door, sliding it closed behind her. Whatever it was impacted the thick glass, sending a spider web of cracks splintering out in every direction. Devon continued looking towards the collision as the heal of her boot caught against a piece of floor mat. In a desperate attempt, she tried to correct her body, but the loss of balance was too severe. Unable to stop, she cascaded backwards, her body slamming hard against the cement wall of the outer balcony.

At the same time, the creature's bulk slid quickly down the glass as it crumpled to the floor.

With her right arm, Devon propped herself up against the cold concrete. Gasping in terror, she tried to see what laid beyond the window through the cracks in the glass. All she could make out was that it was massive. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck." Devon stuttered. Between panicked breaths, she began to coach herself aloud. "Get up! Get your ass up. Now!" As she pushed down on the ground with the palm of her left hand, a greater pain presented itself. This time, it spread further down her back and across her torso. A scream burst out from her lungs and her skin burned as if it were on fire. She inhaled a few breaths to steady herself before making another attempt. Instead of using her arms she used her legs to slide her back up against the cold concrete. Devon's hands guarded her stomach as she stood up, bracing herself against the railing. Back on her feet, she looked down for signs of people below. "Help! Help me!" she cried out, but no one was there to hear her. Frantically, she searched the balcony for anything to aid in her escape.

Suddenly movement beyond the cracked window startled her. The creature began to twitch. Adrenaline pumped harder, coursing through her body. There was only one direction she could go. Devon cautiously hovered over the side rail to peak at the neighboring balcony on the floor below. There it laid a possible answer of escape. The terrace below Derrick's suite stuck out a foot further, enough that Devon could see a small red patio set. If she could lower herself down onto the table, she might be able to get help from the people below, or at least get in through their balcony and escape down the stairwell. Having the use of only her uninjured arm, she hugged the railing with all her strength. Devon managed to slide her legs up and over and lowered as much of her body as she could. Strong winds caught the remnants of her jacket, pulling and shaking her body. No matter how much she stretched, she couldn't reach the table. When Devon attempted to see how far away it was, everything began to spin as blood loss and vertigo got the best of her, causing her eyes shut tight.

_THUMP_.

The sound jolted her back into action. Panicking, Devon knew she was out of time and that it was now or never. She needed more reach to get to the table, so Devon attempted to grab the cement lip below the railing with her injured arm. Maybe it would be enough if she could block the pain, but it was no use. Her foot was still too high off its mark, and she was slipping. The sweat from her hands re-slicked her bloody palm, and in a heart-stopping moment, Devon was falling.

The top of the table buckled as she crashed onto it, causing Devon to cascaded forward toward the center of the balcony. With no way of stopping her momentum, her body slammed hard onto the concrete floor, landing only inches in front of the patio door. In a futile attempt, she lifted her arm, trying desperately to reach the handle, but it was inches away. In her weakened state, she vainly punched at the glass door, hoping that someone inside would notice. That maybe someone would come to her aid. The blood loss caused by her wounds was too extensive; her body was failing. Dizziness overtook Devon, and her arm collapsed to the ground. Severely crippled on the floor, all the strength and willpower to go on had left her. Derrick was dead. Jackson would never see his unborn child, and Devon was sure that she and her unborn were soon to follow. At that moment, Devon looked into the sky's reflection against the glass door as a stream of tears poured from her eyes. The clouds parted, revealing an ominous red glowing disc now suspended in the night's sky to comfort her. Devon had never witnessed an eclipse, and she smiled in awe of its beauty. The reflection of its red ring filled the glassy surface of her eyes.

Several gusts of icy wind bit into her flesh, adding to burn she was already enduring. It felt as if the wind was ripping the skin from her body as she trembled and shook. Her heart began to beat hard and fast, pumping the pain to every crevice of her being, while her blood began to boil. An eternity of torment in mere seconds, followed by the sound of tearing fabric, made Devon whimper through clenched teeth. Muffling the pitiful cries with her hand, Devon did everything in her power not to scream. In her head, she begged for the pain to end, for death to reunite her with the man she loved. Steadily Devon's world began to fade as her heartbeat slowed, causing her to drift in and out of consciousness.

An explosion came from the balcony above startling her. Devon could hear the cascading pieces of glass skittering across the floor as the animal broke through. She closed her eyes as tight as she could while placing her hand over her mouth: maybe the animal wouldn't find her if she was quiet.

A loud THUMP shook the air around her. There was nowhere left to hide; the beast was there on the balcony ready to take it's third victim. With one last sliver of strength, her eyes opened, just long enough to take in the reflection of the creature hunched over her before trembling shut. The last thing Devon would remember was the animal's hot panting breath against the side of her cheek.

The van drove recklessly through the empty streets racing towards the scene. Briggs checked his gear for the hundredth time. It's not that he thought his equipment was out of place, or that anything was missing. This routine was just how he prepared for the action.

"Hurry up and wait," laughed one of his team members.

Unwilling to exchange in the banter with the man across from him, Briggs methodically checked his magazines to make sure they were full and correctly secured in their webbing. Once through that, he began checking his remaining gear: the non-lethal taser he was required to carry in its hip holster, handcuffs stored in thier pouch on his belt, and the multi-tool in his cargo pocket. To any outside observer, Briggs appeared to be calmly preparing for their entrance, but inside, he felt the charged energy that was always there before emerging into the unknown crime scene.

The duty of the Emergency Response Team, also known as the ERT, was to clear the area and to neutralize any hostile targets before the forensic teams entered. The little information Briggs had received over his radio consisted of a missing young woman and two male bodies. Inspector Gregson suspected that she might be in the suite below but did not give any reason as to why. As unlikely as it was, she very well could be the perpetrator they were looking for. Even if she wasn't, she likely witnessed something that could shed some light on what happened there. Briggs watched as the full moon passed the window of the van; he was sure that it was going to be a long and interesting night. It's not that he was a superstitious man; he just found that full moons would bring people's inner crazy out of the woodwork and onto the streets.

He looked at the rest of his team: each member followed suit doing the same check. Only young Johnson looked nervous, but Briggs knew that the kid could handle it. His nervousness reminded Briggs of his first tour of duty; back when he was with the military all those years ago. While no amount of training could ever adequately prepare anyone for what they may encounter on a mission, Briggs could tell that Johnson had what it takes to survive in life like this. It didn't hurt that the kid was also the best marksman he had ever seen.

ERT was never the first on the scene, so when the van finally pulled up at the entrance to the condominium building, he wasn't surprised to see reporters starting to gather out front. _Just what we need, more media circus in an already fearful city_. Briggs was the first to jump out followed closely by his team. His primary objective was reporting to Inspector Gregson. Hopefully by now Gregson would have more information before his men went in. Briggs could have just used the radio, but he wanted to speak with the inspector first before prepping his team. Without giving the reporters a second look, he walked past the cops guarding the front door and into the building's foyer.

Immediately the acidic, sweet smell of vomit struck him. Just to his right, bent over with his head between his knees was the patrol officer that was first on the scene. _At least, he had the good sense not to contaminate the crime scene,_ he thought. Other than the smell, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the entryway. Well, aside from the posh digs now surrounding them. This place was definitely not the ordinary crack houses his team was accustomed to entering. Briggs knew that he would never be able to afford a place like this on his salary. _Good thing I'm not in the ERT for the money_ , he chuckled to himself.

Briggs walked up to the first uniformed officer that he could see. "Where is Inspector Gregson?"

The Uniform looked up from his leather-bound notebook and proceeded to look nervous. "He just went down to the parking garage to interview the tenants of Suite 701." He blurted out, "I can radio down if you'd like Briggs, Sir, I meant, Sir. Sorry, Sir." The man rambled.

"If I wanted to radio him, I would do it myself. Just point me in the direction of the stairwell, will you." Briggs was direct and never one to worry about hurt feelings when it came to getting the job done.

The Uniform dutifully pointed towards the back of the lobby, in a tucked away corner. Residents living in this type of place rarely took the stairs, so there was little reason to dress it up. Briggs quickly told his team where he was going and that the residents of 701 had been located. If Inspector Gregson played his cards right, they could be entering the crime scene shortly. Either that or they'll be waiting all hours for a warrant with such flimsy evidence.

The lobby may have been upper class, but the parking garage was like every other he had seen: the standard concrete supports, and glaring neon lights. Even with the industrial fans doing their best to pump in the fresh air, there was a faint smell of oil and exhaust that would never quite go away. Just ahead, he could see Gregson talking to a pair of civilians. Judging from their attire, they were probably coming home from a night on the town. The age difference between them had Briggs guessing second wife or mistress. The male's body language was stiff and tense; Briggs could tell that the man was trying to assert his dominance over Gregson. _Yeah, good luck with that_. Gregson is no idiot, and no matter who you think you are nothing gives you an authority in this type of situation. Briggs smirked a little, knowing that Gregson would have none of it. The Inspector had known him a long time, almost as long as Briggs had been with the ERT. Over the years, the two men developed an understanding and respect for one another. He knew that this rich piss-ant wasn't going to get the best of the Inspector. As he approached the group, he could finally make out their conversation.

"What happened? You can't keep us from going up there!" said the man

Yup, this guy is used to getting his way, Briggs thought. He smirked a little more. Glad it was Gregson dealing with this guy instead of him. Briggs didn't have the patience to deal with an entitled man-child who seemed to think that the world owes him everything. _The world doesn't owe any man anything. It's earned_ : this was Briggs' outlook on life. If he interrupted them now, it could ruin the male dominance dance going on between the two men. He paused, just far enough back that neither of the civilians would give him a second look, giving Gregson the space he needed.

Without flinching, and ignoring the man's attempt to assert himself, Gregson continued to talk to the woman instead. It was a good play, he knew this would ruffle the man's ego by undermining his self-declared importance. "The quick explanation Miss," he smiled, "Your unit is situated directly below a crime scene. We have reason to believe that whatever went on in the above condo may have led down to your balcony. We are currently waiting for a search warrant to investigate your premises."

"Oh my god! That guy who lives above you!" The girl's words were high pitched and slightly slurred from drinking. She pushed on the man's arm trying to get his attention.

Gregson continued, focusing his questions solely on the woman as if the man's presence was meaningless. "Where were the two of you tonight?" Briggs knew there was no way that the woman had anything to do with the case, but she seemed the most likely candidate to help bring this issue to a close. This type of interview tactic was similar to finding the right pressure point to take an opponent down.

The man grew stiff. "We were at a movie downtown and then dinner. We have witnesses!" He exclaimed nervously.

Briggs could tell the man's mind was quickly reliving every bad TV crime show he had ever seen. His reaction was comical, yet Gregson's face stayed stoic as he finally turned his attention to the man. "These are just routine questions, Mr. Finning. Nothing more." He said before turning back again to the woman. "Were you acquainted with Mr. Ashton?"

The gaze of the man seemed more interested in the woman's answer then Gregson was.

"Just saying hi in the elevator... What? That's all I swear." She tried to reassure the man beside her by rubbing his arm.

"What if it did? What if, somehow, it got into _my_ suite?" The man dropped his arms to his side, finally showing real concern for his situation.

"Sir, we cannot divulge any information on the current case at this point. However, if you were inclined to give us your permission to enter your condo, we could move this along. The sooner we have access to your unit, the sooner we can assess the situation."

"How long will that take?" Finning questioned.

"The entire building is on lockdown. As it stands, no one will be entering the building or their homes for the next 12 to 24 hours as we sweep for evidence."

"Where the hell are we supposed to go tonight?" Finning's frustration began to rise, as he realized just how powerless he was.

"Just let them in Jim so we can leave. I want to go somewhere warm!" The young woman whined, stomping her feet like a petulant child.

Right on cue, Gregson had played his part masterfully. All he had to do was wait for the man to give in to the woman's demands. He could tell she was accustomed to getting her way in the end.

"Fine, whatever you need." The man pulled out his keys from his pocket, fumbling with them as he detached his door key before forcefully placing it in Gregson's open palm. "Can we go now?"

_God bless the predictable nature of a man's need for a pretty girl,_ thought Briggs.

"Sure, you two can leave." Gregson gripped the key before snapping back at the young officer who still stood patiently off to the right. "Get these people's information and don't forget to get them to sign an entry form before they leave." Having what he needed, Gregson turned to head back to the main lobby. To his surprise, he saw Briggs grinning behind him.

"So, I guess I can greenlight my guys for entry?"

"You pass your last psych eval, Briggs? Because that type of grin has no place at a murder scene." He tossed the key over to Briggs. "And yes, let's get this over with quickly. We've got a missing woman..."

"So, who's the girl?" Briggs cut him off.

"No one has a goddamn clue. She was seen on the security cameras in the lobby heading into the elevator with the doorman, and according to the building's surveillance videos, she never left. If she's suffered the same type of wounds as the other two, it's doubtful that she's even alive."

Before entering unit 701, Gregson made sure to brief the ERT fully on the situation. They knew the blood coming through the ceiling was a mix of doorman Jackson Penn and the tenant Derrick Ashton. The coroner's best guess was that some kind of animal bit the tenant and gruesomely ripped apart the doorman. From the photos already taken upstairs, both Gregson and Briggs were not remotely convinced. Both men were seasoned hunters and knew that nothing this close to the city had the ferocity and strength to inflict that much damage on an adult human male. The doorman's head was partially severed from his body, and his torso shredded into pieces. But where was the missing girl? Was she the killer or just another body now waiting to be discovered? The only evidence of her being there were smaller shoe prints left on the hardwood floor and some bloody handprints around the scene that were too small to match either of the male victims. Whoever or whatever it was, had smashed its way through the sliding glass panel, leaving some sort of dissolved residue and a few bits of hair. This information gave some support to the possible animal theory but not enough. The way the balcony door had broken outwards and no signs of blood found in any of the stairwells provided a second theory. Gregson suspected that the killer, animal, or missing woman may still be waiting just beyond the door that the ERT waited patiently to breach.

With the team now upstairs, Gregson swiped the radio headset from the table and placed it in his ear, switching over to the same channel as the ERT. "I'll be watching the security feed from the lobby. There's a camera set up in the hallway by the unit door. Briggs, get your team in place and wait for my order. I want you and Johnson to go in first, followed by Dixon, Forbes, and Daniels. You know the layout. Five officers in and the rest of you wait in the hallway. Only enter if backup is needed. I repeat, _only_ as a backup. I don't want the scene contaminated, or forensics will have a field day." Gregson sighed, relieved merely to be moving forward with what he already felt to be a long night.

Briggs' team was the best of the best. He had been in the military a decade before the fifteen years he was currently serving with the Victoria Police force. After three tours overseas, a desk job or cruiser wouldn't have been a comfortable transition for someone who had seen as much as he had.

Tall and lanky, Johnson was the newest member to join the ERT in the last year. Unlike Briggs, Johnson had only been with the Victoria Police for five out of his twenty-five years on this earth. Briggs had been mentoring the young man since he joined the ERT and was confident in Gregson's choice to send him in as second. Briggs told him that if he went military, Special Forces would be an excellent place for a guy who possesed the skill for the kill. He failed to notice how this statement had always made Johnson very uneasy. Gregson hoped Johnson's marksman skills wouldn't be needed, and that it was just a blown over table from the winter storm.

It didn't take them long to get into place, poised in the hallway with weapons angled, ready to go as soon as the word was given. Briggs pressed on the mic for his radio headset, "Ready."

Gregson's voice crackled in his ear. "Affirmative. ERT team, you are cleared for entry."

Briggs called out, "This is the Victoria Emergency Response Team. If anyone is in there, please make yourself known."

The only answer was the slow drip of blood pooling from the ceiling above the doorframe. He tried a second time. "I repeat this is the Victoria Emergency Response Team. If anyone is in there, please make yourself known. We are armed and ready to enter. This is your last warning, lay down on the ground with your arms behind your head and do not resist or you may be shot." Still, there was only silence.

Briggs stepped into position, covering Johnson's left beside the doorway. Johnson held out the key and hovered it over the keyhole as the rest of the ERT held position; their weapons poised at the ready. Everything in the hallway was dead still. Not even their breaths could be heard as they stood frozen with anticipation. As Briggs gave the signal, Johnson slid the key into the keyhole, turning it as he pushed open the door with the speed and grace he was known for. Briggs covered him as the five-person team rushed the interior, spreading out from room to room. The tactical lights mounted on their guns caressed every corner and crevasse, exposing all areas that one would hide. Less than 30 seconds in Briggs could hear his team calling out. "Clear." "Clear." "Clear." "Clear." He followed suit standing in the middle of the condo's living room. "Clear."

The space around them was dark and silent as the men stood patiently waiting for the next command. No matter how much time had passed, the memory of muscle and mind never forgot the routine or that rush of adrenaline that comes from the unknown possibility of death. This feeling was something they all lived for, and why each of them found a home in the ERT. Briggs' psychiatrist told him that it was a close parallel between the criminals and killers they faced and himself. In his case, his conscience kept him on that thin line of being a killer for good instead of a killer for pleasure. Either way, this is where he felt truly alive. He tugged the handle of the balcony but received no movement.

Suddenly from the darkness of the other rooms, he heard Johnson give a sharp, startled cry. "We have movement!" he shouted into his headset.

Instantly Briggs was bounding over an ottoman, his tactical light bouncing as he breached the door to the master bedroom. He stood in the room with his weapon raised and his finger on the trigger. Inside, he found Johnson waving his arms repeating "No action, there is no action in the unit. Stand down backup." By this point, it was too late. The other ERT members, who were in position down the hallway, rushed into the unit behind Briggs.

"Just what the hell is going on up there?" Gregson's voice demanded, ringing through into Briggs' earpiece.

Briggs quickly assessed the room, seeing Johnson dusting himself off while Forbes did his best to shield a smirk. He let out his breath lowering his gun. "Just a couple of ERT members chasing shadows," Briggs replied. "The unit's interior is clear. No sign of entry or disturbance. The balcony door is locked from the inside. Just on our way to check it out now."

With no further leads, Briggs knew that Gregson was looking down the barrel of a long night of paperwork and more unanswered questions. Was this linked to the killings in the summer? Was it just some random animal attack? If so, what kind of animal, and how the hell did it get into the eight-story condo without the security feed catching it? Also, where the hell was the girl from the security camera? Gregson's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Cut the crap and clean it up."

"Yes, sir." Briggs was already pushing his way into the living room as the rest of the ERT formed in behind him.

_Flap, flap_.

A sound made Briggs and the rest of the ERT tense. Silently they repositioned themselves amongst the furniture. Briggs readied his gun while taking the front position beside the balcony door. Johnson moved to his left, holding up his fingers for the countdown before mouthing the words "One, two..." On three, he pulled back the curtain as Briggs's light flashed around the balcony.

His eyes could not wrap themselves around the images flooding back at him. A second later one of the ERT members flicked on the balcony light exposing the grotesque display for all to see.

To his left, Johnson stumbled back before slumping down onto an ottoman. Stammering nonsense, the poor kid tried to comprehend what he just witnessed before his body hunched forward to throw up onto the beige carpet. To think that something so nightmarish was shielded from them by the thin layer of the balcony curtains.

Briggs cursed into his headset.

There was red everywhere. The balcony was a slaughterhouse.

_Flap, Flap_ came the sound again.

Pressed up against the bottom of the glass door, flapping wetly was what appeared to be the right side of a human face. It pulled back and forth in the wind clinging to part of a blood-streaked scalp. Large pieces of pale skin, mucus, and clothing lay heaped amongst a pool of crimson blood.

In all his years in the military and with the ERT Briggs had never encountered anything like this. It looked as if a person had brutally shed its skin; large portions retained enough detail to tell that this was definitely at one point a human being. A sick thrill of dark fascination passed through him: knowing that there were still new experiences in a world where he felt he had seen it all.

As he kneeled, Briggs found himself mesmerized by the empty sockets of the deflated face. The ERT waited in silence as he spoke into his headset. "We are going to need forensics in here. We found the girl."

Chapter Two

A NEW YEAR

_The intense fear for her life began to drift away slowly._ A warm breeze now replaced the heat of the animal's panting breath on her cheek. It was easy to tell that the night's sky had also changed. She was able to feel the heat of the sun against her skin, coupled with a glow that radiated light behind her eyelids." Devon's arms began to loosen, letting go of the protective grip around her abdomen. As she began to relax she inhaled deeply; the strong scent of grass and earth flooded in, and the last of her fear vanished. No longer did she feel the physical pain or mental anguish that had overtaken her moments ago. Blurred hues danced across her eyelashes as they fluttered open, blinking several times to focus. Devon continued to lay on her stomach, keeping her body still, as she looked around to see if the beast was gone. There was no sign of the creature in front of her. Instead of the cold concrete patio, blades of dewy grass tickled her cheek. As she felt her strength returning, Devon pushed herself up on her side, steadying herself to get a better look at her surroundings. What she saw captivated her; Devon was sitting in a circular clearing encompassed by towering oak trees with just enough room between the trunks for Devon to glimpse at the landscape beyond. Patches of green grass and rolling rock studded hillsides stretched out in every direction with no signs of urban life anywhere. The branches had naturally woven together, forming an tight circle of green above her.

Even her clothing had changed; instead of her blood-soaked jeans and winter attire, her body was shrouded in a white cotton dress. A feeling of deja-vu overwhelmed her. Devon tried to place her whereabouts, yet she couldn't seem to draw anything from her memories. Why had she felt so afraid? Despite the beauty, something about her surroundings felt wrong, as though she wasn't supposed to be here.

Devon ran her hand down the softness of the gown and along the blades of grass, a vision swam before her eyes that caused her arm to flinch. For only a brief second, she not only saw but felt her hand sink deep into a gaping abdomen. She could see the corpse below her, with the blood spreading out around the hardwood floor. The flood of images brought her back to what had happened. "Derrick!" Devon had forgotten. How could she forget? Disturbing sounds of Jackson being torn apart also slipped their way into her mind. Overwhelmed by a mixture of fear and solitude, the two realities around her began to collide. In a panic, she rose to her feet, spinning around to search for signs of danger. How the hell did she get here? And more importantly, where was _here_?

High above, the once golden sunlight darkened quickly into a red glow while a terrifying display unfolded. All around her became littered with fallen soldiers, piled high, glistening wet with blood. The tang of iron wafting on the breeze made the bile roll in her stomach. These visions were not coming from anything she could remember and disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. A sharp pain pierced her forehead, shooting down her neck and across to her shoulder. Devon anxiously pulled at the neckline of the white gown, inspecting the spot where the beast had torn her open. Each finger touched only smooth skin; the gaping wound was gone, they were all gone. There was no blood. All of the injuries that she remembered from that night had _vanished_.

Devon took a few deep breaths, getting control over her fear. Panic began to slowly diminish into confusion while she tried to make sense of how she got here. What was this lingering feeling of deja-vu? Where did a vision of a battlefield come from? Even the air was too warm to be December: where was the biting cold of winter that burned her cheeks?

Could it all have been a nightmare? Had she imagined the horrific evening? Hope filled her, could Derrick still be alive?

The wind picked up, swaying the tops of the trees around her. At the end of the clearing, was a massive oak towering high above the rest. She hadn't noticed it before and was fascinated by the patterns formed by the deep grooves in its trunk. Drawn to it, Devon crossed the clearing, watching a face slowly emerging from within the impressions of the bark. The creases became wrinkles, and the wood crevasses molded into long braided hair that draped down to the bottom of the tree, creating its roots. She reached out her hand to touch them when a strong wind rushed across the clearing from behind her. All of the tree's massive branches swayed violently, joined by the other trees around her. Devon was forced to shield her eyes as beams of light broke through pockets in the leaves, temporarily distracting her.

"Hello."

She jumped, looking back to see who had spoken. There, at the other end of the clearing was a small, fair-skinned boy with dark hair. When Devon turned to greet him, a deep sense of disorientation came over her. The child was dressed all in white, and his shirt had rope lacing up to the neckline, slightly open. His attire appeared to be the same material as Devon's gown. With her best guess, she figured he could be no older than six, possibly five.

His expression was open and innocent. The boy tilted his head up towards her as he gave her a shy smile. Devon looked back to find that the face of the old man in the bark was gone, along with the strange feeling drawing her to it. Only she and the boy remained in sight.

"Why... Hello there," she said, as the same mix of deja-vu and solitude she felt earlier had returned. Still, the boy only continued smiling, cocking his head from side to side like a small pup.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked. "Is your family around?"

"Yes," He answered without hesitation.

"Yes, you know where we are?" Devon was not sure which question he was answering.

The boy nodded his head as he looked out around the clearing. Squinting in childish contemplation, he seemed to reach a vague conclusion. "I think this is a memory."

His odd statement made sense to her when she thought about it. What she was experiencing must be some kind of dream and not the waking world. With slight trepidation, Devon brushed aside her rational thinking and began to let go. Not only her grasp of familiar logic but the pain of the real world that she was grateful to be away from.

"I don't think this could be my memory." She said looking around for a familiar landmark, something that might remind her, but there was nothing. "I'm sure that I've never been here before."

Something pulled at the back of her mind as she said the words out loud. A sudden sense of guilt as if catching herself in a lie. "Maybe I have?" Devon crossed the grass and slowly knelt to meet his gaze.

"So, what do you think?" She asked him. "If this isn't my memory, then is this a dream?"

"Both I think," The boy said, shrugging his shoulders.

Devon took his answer at face value. She had a feeling that he knew more about this place than she did. Everything around her was so vivid, more real than any dream that Devon could recall. Was she in a coma and this some sort of hallucination? Maybe she was dead?

She searched the boy's face for an answer, studying him. He was very delicate, almost androgynous in nature. It was his eyes that caught her attention the most, peering out from underneath the shaggy brown hair that hung loosely over his pale forehead. They were dark with streaks of vibrant green detail, surrounded by flecks of gold that reflected in the sunlight. There was also something profound in his calm demeanor that seemed to surpass his age.

Devon felt maternal, in a big sister kind of way when it came to children. She was always the one that would protect the other kids in the foster homes; the ones who were too young to defend themselves. Still, Devon felt something more for the boy as she resisted the urge to wrap her arms protectively around him.

"So, who are you supposed to be in all of this?" Devon was curious about what the boy represented to her mind. "Another memory?"

The boy blushed at her question, keeping his eyes on hers. "No, but that is not important now. This is your mind, and I am just a visitor."

Devon reached for him as her vision shifted again. This time, the clearing transformed into a white-tiled room, and her outstretched arms became drenched in blood. Unnerved, Devon faltered, before placing her hands on the boy's shoulders to steady herself. As quickly as the image had come, it vanished, drifting away and leaving her with a sense of dread. If this was a dream, what would be waiting for her when she woke up?

The boy's smile dimmed as if the same ghastly vision had crossed his eyes. Without dropping his gaze, the boy took her hands off his shoulders and held them." "It will be all right. When everything is at its darkest, that is the moment when true change can happen. When it does, it will be your choice on how you will change it."

His words reassured Devon; her sense of dread left her as quickly as the clouds that passed overhead. Devon leaned forward and kissed the boy's forehead. "Thank you. Still, I feel as if I know you."

The boy smiled back "You do, but not yet."

Devon's eyes flashed open. The sun's rays, the clearing, and the boy were gone. This time, she knew that she was awake. Her vision had already adjusted; the whole room illuminated by the night sky shining in through a wall of windows to her left. Around Devon were several large down pillows cradling her body, propping her up in a strange four-post bed. Unlike the clearing from her dream, Devon felt no sense of familiarity. She knew she had never been here before. The walls were completely covered in wood paneling which matched the sizable bed that held her. From above, decorative metal plates glistened from two large glass lamps, one hanging above her and the other by the large metal door.

"Hello?" Her voice echoed in the large room. Devon sat up, sliding her leg out the side of the blanket draped across her. As she glanced down, she realized that someone had dressed her in the same white gown she wore in her dream. These two things made Devon very uneasy. She lightly performed a quick self-examination on her shoulder and body. Just like her dream, Devon's shoulder was unharmed, not even a scratch. This time she slid herself to the edge of the bed before placing both feet on the floor to stand up. In a further check she lifted the gown above her knees and found no bruising or scars anywhere. With everything she experienced trying to escape the condo, how was she not hooked up to some form of life support machine? If this was a hospital room, it was unlike any she had ever seen.

"Hello?" She called out again. Devon could hear no signs of life except the settling of the house; floorboards creaking beneath her, and the draft seeping through the sealed windows. These were sounds she usually would not have noticed, and she briefly wondered why they were so present to her ears. Devon assumed it was a side effect of medication wearing off or waking up from having slept all day. But if she was on medication, wouldn't she be hooked up to an IV drip?

On her wrist, Devon felt something give a slight tug as she dropped her arm. Rather than the standard loop of marked plastic she had expected, she wore a metal bracelet. In the moonlight, she could see symbols carved beautifully all over the band. Devon had no idea what these symbols meant as her fingers traced over the cold surface. With a few slight movements, she rocked the bracelet back and forth, feeling its weight. The edge of the bracelet had no connecting point that would allow her to remove it. Without a clasp, Devon tried to pull it off, only to discover that it wouldn't budge no matter how tightly her fingers scrunched together for the narrow hole. After struggling with it for several minutes, her frustration worsened the harder she fought. Finally, Devon resigned, taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves as she stared at the bracelet resting against her pale wrist. She decided to set the task aside, knowing she couldn't remove it now without possibly injuring herself.

There wasn't anything else she could do but continue her inspection of the large room. At the same time, Devon wanted to make sure that she was utterly alone. The room didn't appear to have any closets, and the only furniture she could see was the oversized bed and a dresser in one corner. Finally satisfied that no one else was with her, Devon moved closer to inspect the metal door. Where the door handle should have been, Devon found a large circular disk bolted in its place. Realizing that she was locked in made Devon panic. Her anxiety began to rise within her as she fought to keep control of her emotions. Just to her right was a small round object attached to the wall. Assuming it was some sort of call button for the hospital staff, she pushed on it. Nothing happened; there was no movement inward, no matter how hard she tried. This time she placed her fingers on it, feeling a slight roughness to the sides. Grasping its edges, Devon decided to give it a turn.

Light flashed from above, she raised her fists and jumped at the sight of a ghostly visitor standing by the dresser. Devon laughed to herself, feeling embarrassed as she stepped towards her reflection in the mirror. With the room illuminated, Devon was able to finally see the beauty of the dresser and the place around her. The ornate carvings matched the great high posts of the bed frame, tying the whole space together. On the top left of the dresser, she found a small stack of neatly folded black clothing, topped with a nondescript white note. Next to it, Devon noticed a washcloth rolled up under the rim of a white and gold porcelain basin with a matching decanter inside. Also above her, the metal ceilings tiles from earlier were bronze with polished wood borders that covered the entire surface; the decor was by no means that of a hospital.

When she reached for the decanter, a glint from the folded card redirected her hand. Lifting the note closer, she could see a light gold script written on the top side. _For Devon_ , was the only lettering to appear, its underside was untouched and equally cryptic as the room around her. Her eyebrows lifted in uncertainty as she placed the note to the side of the clothing. Alone and with no sign of cameras, Devon slowly pulled the white gown over her head and tossed it onto the ground beside her. "What kind of messed up hospital _is_ this?" she asked aloud, refusing to consider any other alternative.

Re-dressed in the plain black tracksuit, she turned her attention back to the metal door. In an echo of the previous night's events, she leaned her ear up against the cold steel to see if she could make out any sounds coming from beyond. There were no voices; the only sound Devon could hear was the hum of electricity running through the lights above her.

"Hello?" she called louder, slamming her hands against the door. "Is there anybody out there?"

A long moment passed as she stood biting her lip, waiting for the sound of footsteps rushing to answer her. Instead the silence stretched out. "Damn it," she punched at the door several times. As she paced the room in front of the door, the creaking of the old wooden floors pulled at her nerves. She understood better than most why caged animals would pace a fence line, and be willing to injure themselves in order to break free. Instinctively she looked at her knuckles. Adrenaline must be preventing her from feeling where she had punched the door, and the bruising she was expecting to see hadn't shown up yet. Instead, her skin was smooth and clear.

The floorboards were as old as the furniture, nothing in this room made any sense. _What is this place_? Devon supposed it could be a private clinic; perhaps a heritage home converted into a care facility. The cost for something this fancy would be well above what her father could afford, and why was there no handle on the door? What kind of care facility would lock someone in that was a victim? She was scared and confused, and her fear was growing into paranoia. Turning her attention from the door, she crossed the barren room to the windows. The first one had a large, old-fashioned brass latch. It turned with ease, so she tugged at the window ledge only to find it jammed. The rattling above was the real problem; brass padlocks gleamed just above where the two windows met. Devon's eyes glanced over at the other windows confirming her suspicion: they were all the same. " _Comforting_ ," she thought tugging firmly on the lock above.

Before testing the next window, she was stopped by three distinct voices as they walked towards the room. Surprisingly, the thick door did not muffle the sounds of their conversation. Devon could tell they were at the end of the hallway, yet they sounded as if they were in the room with her. Their discussion was held in subdued tones and not the lighthearted banter between co-workers. There were two male voices present, one was a deep husky baritone, and the other was smooth and articulate. Accompanying them was the softer high-pitched notes of a younger woman.

"I'm not okay with her going in there alone, not after what happened," said one of the men. His voice was tense and aggravated.

"Dad I'm okay. Remember she can't hurt me, I can handle this," replied the female of the group.

"With just Keryn in the room she won't feel as threatened," said the final voice of the three.

_Well, you just screwed that one up, pal_. Devon rolled her eyes at the man's comment.

The conversation ended with the metal grinding from the deadbolt as it turned inside the door. It was deafening, and Devon covered her ears to muffle the sharp, high-pitched screech. Tense with apprehension, she dashed away from the window towards the bed. Pressing her back up against the large wood post to keep it protected, she steeled herself to face whoever was about to enter.

The door pushed inward only a few feet before stopping, and from behind, came the face of a young, frail-looking girl.

"May I come in?" She said in a low and gentle voice.

Despite her fear, Devon felt a touch of relief at the sight of her. Something about the girl's face seemed familiar.

Devon nodded at her while lowering her hands from her ears.

The girl opened the door wider, as she stepped into the room. Behind her, Devon could make out the wood paneling in the hallway but couldn't see either of the men who had spoken. The new girl was a similar height to Devon; her build was slender and fair. They were also around the same age, though the girl could be a year or two younger. Under the glow of the overhead light, her hair shone like a bolt of satin fabric as it hung long and straight down to her torso.

In her left hand the girl carried a matching decanter to the one on the dresser and in her other a large drinking glass. Beads of condensation dripped down the porcelain, splashing onto the wood floor next to her feet. It was at that moment Devon realized just how thirsty she was.

The girl pushed the door closed with her foot and made her way over to the dresser. Somehow, she gave the subtle impression that she was Devon's guest, rather than the other way around. "It is good to see that you are finally awake. We were starting to worry about you," she said timidly.

The young woman's concern was sincere; she even ducked her head bowing as she passed. This display of submissiveness gave Devon the opportunity she needed. "Why would I feel threatened?" she looked at her pointedly.

The girl was taken aback at the sound of her tone. With her back to Devon, she fumbled as she quickly replaced the decanter of water with the one already on the dresser. Without meaning to her hand brushed against the glass, causing it to tip over. Devon was impressed by the girl's quick reflexes when she caught it with her free hand, and she placed it gently beside the pitcher. It took a moment before she lifted her head, looking at Devon through the reflection of the dresser's mirror. "You're safe, I promise," she said, taking the empty jug, as she turned and headed for the door. The girl's mannerisms were strange, and she kept her eyes lowered and her back close to the wall as she moved. Sensing the girl's nervousness, Devon decided to take advantage of this leverage. She moved closer and extended her arm out against the wall to block the girl's retreat. With her target cornered, she unleashed the questions that crowded her mind. "That's far enough. I want answers!"

"I...we..." The girl stammered her words, but Devon kept on.

"Who are you people and what happened to me? Is this a hospital? Why am I locked in this room? Where is Derrick?"

With the barrage of questions, Devon dislodged the final memory of the traumatic night: as his lifeless eyes filled her thoughts.

"Oh, god Derrick..." she stumbled back from the girl reeling from the shock and carnage flooding back into her memory..

The look of remorse and sadness that clouded the girl's face told Devon all she needed to know. It had happened, every bit of that horrific night. Derrick was gone.

The young woman took this opportunity to make her way closer to the doorway. "I will probably get in trouble for this, but you are not in a hospital," she said. "Please believe me when I say you're in a safe place. Well, safer than a hospital would be."

Devon shook her head with a bitter laugh. "How can anyone feel safe when they are being held captive?" She stared at the girl hovering just beside the closed door, challenging her to offer some other explanation.

Tears began to swell just beyond her eyelids as the girl avoided meeting Devon's gaze. "Devon... what I meant to say is that it is safer for others." Her response did nothing to ease Devon's confusion and mistrust. "Everything will be explained soon enough; the best thing you can do for yourself is rest," she said before knocking lightly on the door.

When the door opened fully, Devon could finally see one of the men she had only been able to hear from the hallway. As he stepped out of the shadows into the room, his build filled the door frame. He was tall and broad; his hair was dark brown, almost black with streaks of silver running down the sides.

His eyes fixated upon Devon. "That will be enough for now Keryn." His tone was firm and defied argument.

"Sorry, Rowland," she said almost bowing her head.

"Keryn, go downstairs and make Miss Andrews something to eat," he commanded.

Devon bristled at his tone. She was not one for authority figures, especially when they were chastising someone for offering some form of compassion. "Please," Devon protested.

"Excuse me?" Rowland looked at her, questioning her response.

"Please, _Keryn_. If you're going to ask people to do things, you could start by having some manners." Devon said scolding the man.

"Keryn, will you _please_ go downstairs and get our guest some food," He repeated.

Devon could tell from his tone that correcting himself was something he seldom had to do.

Keryn raised her head. She smiled as she looked back across the room at Devon. "I'll be back in a bit with some food. You should try drinking some water. You've been asleep for a while."

_A while_? Devon had assumed that what happened to her was only the night prior, but then how could it? Her wounds were all healed. "Wait, how long have I been here for?"

Rowland interrupted with a gruff clearing of his throat. The sound seemed more like a sharp growl to her ears, causing Devon's body to tense. Keryn slipped past him out the door, closing it behind her. He kept a respectful distance when he took a few steps closer to Devon. Now that he stood before her, she was slightly intimidated by his size. Still, he was an obstacle in the way of her freedom — a big obstacle, but an obstacle nonetheless.

"Long enough." He answered with a ring of finality to her question. Before she could respond, he continued, "It is in your best interest to remain here in my home so that we may determine what kind of a threat you are."

"A threat?" Devon snapped. " _I'm_ not a threat to anyone! Here or anywhere else. _I_ was the one attacked; some kind of animal killed my boyfriend. _I_ had nothing to do with that." she struggled to keep control of her emotions as her voice began to break. Within the anger behind her words was the fear and shock of what happened to Derrick. Devon was unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing how scared and uncertain she felt. Forcing herself not to cry, she longed for something familiar, some connection with the life she knew.

Devon ran her shaking hands over her face trying to regain her composure. "My dad!" Suddenly the memory of her father flooded her thoughts. "Oh my god, my dad! He is going to be worried sick. I was supposed to call him and let him know I was okay."

"You will find that plan is ill-advised." Rowland's words remained calm and collected.

"You can't just keep me here!" she shouted, striding forward into his range. "I have rights!" Confinement was something Devon was not willing to take lightly. She had learned long ago that she couldn't back down from people like this. Her best bet at getting what she needed was to let him know he wouldn't be able to dominate her the way he had Keryn.

The man moved uncomfortably close, towering above Devon. His shadow covered her, blocking out the light above. "You will stay here until you have been assessed. Do I make myself clear?" His words rumbled through her chest, rubbing her already chafed nerves.

Devon's posture straightened, placing her hands on her hips as she leaned into what little space remained between them. Her voice took on a lethal certainty, "I don't know who you think you are or who you think you're trying to intimidate, but it won't work. I have dealt with bigger assholes than you. Guys like you, trying to push girls around, so you feel like some kind of a big man. I will not stand for you treating me or that other girl Keryn like this."

Rowland stood in place looking her up and down, regarding her with amused surprise. Coming to some internal conclusion, he turned away from Devon and made his way across the room.

Devon took after him. "Wait a minute, I'm not finished with you!" She shouted into his back as he reached the door giving it a knock.

He turned to face her with a look of resignation, stopping her in her tracks. "Get some rest. We will continue our discussion when you have taken the time to calm yourself. Take my kindness while you have it. Continue this form of foul bedevilment, and it will not end in your favor." Rowland turned again, finishing their conversation as the door opened.

Devon's eyes were overwhelmed by the giant who opened the door, allowing Rowland to leave. The man was easily six foot eight, dwarfing Rowland's already tall stature by four inches. His massive red braided beard and matching long hair was enough to throw Devon off as she stammered her words. The man huffed, glaring down at Devon as he reached forward grabbing the handle, pulling the door shut with a slam.

In a desperate attempt she tried to rush the door, but it was futile. She beat her hands against it, cursing herself for losing her focus. Once again, the horrible sound of grinding metal from inside the lock, pierced. Devon was furious, she turned around, leaning against the door giving it one hard kick with the bottom of her bare foot. "Shit."

There was no way she was going to stay here, not without answers, and certainly not without contacting her father. Devon rolled her head against the door, looking for something that could help aid her in an escape. To the left, her sight landed on the decanter Keryn left, as a brutal thirst overtook her, causing her to cough. All of the yelling had made her throat bone dry as her eyes fixated on the condensation, rolling down the porcelain surface. Within a few steps, she found herself in front of the dresser, picking up the decanter and filling the glass with its contents before placing it back into the basin. Longingly, Devon stared at the glass of water now grasped in her hands. With hesitation, Devon raised the glass and sniffed the surface. Could it be tainted? It seemed silly after she did it, how was she supposed to know what tainted water would smell like, even if it were? She took a few sips pausing for a moment before gulping down the rest. After her thirst was quenched, she began inspecting the drawers one by one, only to find them empty. At that moment, she saw _it_ , and a plan began to form. She would have to wait until after the girl had come and gone with the food if this was going to work. The index finger of her right hand touched the mirror's surface, pointing at the reflection of the bed. _Just what the doctor ordered_.

Devon didn't need to wait long. Only a half an hour had passed before Devon heard footsteps coming down the hallway. From the sound, she could already tell who it was. The steps were quiet and more delicate than Rowland's or the other large man. There was a light knocking before her voice called through. "It's Keryn, the girl from before. Can I come in?"

"Sure, why not?" Devon replied, patiently sitting at the foot of the bed. This time she was prepared for the screeching of the deadbolt as it unlocked.

Keryn pushed the door open with her hip, while her hands carried a covered serving tray of food. Abruptly the door was pulled closed by an unseen person with a loud slam, causing both the girls to flinch. "Don't mind him, he'll come around," the girl said.

" _Him?_ " Devon assumed it was the giant from before, but did that mean he hadn't left the door from earlier? Was he standing guard?

It wasn't just her mannerisms that gave it away. Devon could almost smell fear coming from the girl. _Why do I make her so nervous_?

"I didn't know what you like, so I thought I would try something different." When Keryn failed to receive a response from Devon, she kept trying to explain herself. "Since you just woke up, I thought some breakfast would be a great start. You're a vegetarian, right? I made you some potato pancakes; you must be starving."

_How the hell would she know that?_ The smell of food tore at her, making her stomach growl. Despite the pain, she held her ground, unwilling to show any sign of gratitude to the people who were keeping her in confinement.

The girl's expression fell slightly, and her smile faded at Devon's reaction. Making her way across the room, Keryn walked around the side of the bed, placing the tray of food between Devon and herself. "May I?" She asked.

"Sure, it's not my bed," Devon responded.

"Sorry," she sighed." Keryn climbed up on the bed and began to squeeze it for some comfort in the already awkward situation. "Please don't be angry with Rowland. He really is a good man."

Devon had no doubt that the girl believed her own words. "Yeah, I'm sure by tomorrow we will be BFF's." Devon didn't even attempt to hide her sarcasm. "So, are you going to level with me? What is all of this, a cult? Have I been kidnapped?"

Keryn began to giggle, caught off guard by her suggestion. "A cult? No, nothing like that. We're the good guys. I swear!" The girl held up her hand placing it over her heart. As if this somehow would signify some honor code to Devon. "We just want to make sure you and everyone else are safe."

Devon had no interest in another round of this. The conversation was already turning into the same circular pattern as the last time Keryn was in the room. "You mentioned something like that before, and so did Rowland. But what does it mean?"

Keryn's gaze slid off Devon as she took a moment to choose her next words carefully. "We just," she paused. "We just need to keep an eye on you right now....to make sure everyone is going to be safe. I know it's a broken record, but we are not up to anything sinister I promise." She smiled brightly trying to reassure Devon. "You're going to be glad in the long run. At least, I hope you will."

Devon had enough; the void of information and cryptic responses was all she could bear. It would be hypocritical for her to vent her frustrations on the girl after scolding Rowland for doing the same. She sighed heavily, trying to make one last attempt at reasoning with the girl. "You have to believe me. I didn't kill Derrick or Jackson, and I'm not dangerous." She insisted. "There was some kind of animal, some...beast that was inside his apartment waiting for us. I couldn't make out what it was in the dark, it was big and it..." Her voice cracked, as her throat closed up. Devon's brief time of being awake was not enough to start processing the memories of that terrible night. "It ripped Jackson apart. It happened right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it." She stared forward into the empty air, reliving the horrific scene in her mind.

Devon was suddenly distracted by a sound; her thoughts returned to the present to find Keryn crying across the bed.

"I'm so sorry...I..." Keryn's words came out as a breath as her lip trembled.

The genuine sorrow that the girl was feeling for her pain and loss took Devon back. Her protective nature flared. She wanted to comfort Keryn; to protect her from her pain, but she knew better. Creating emotional bonds with the people who kept her confined was a dangerous line she was not going to cross. These people were still her captors, no matter what kind of brainwashing this poor girl had been put through.

Moving from house to house as a kid, Devon had to shield her feelings carefully. She will have to use this type of emotional separation and roughness now more than ever. "Why are you sorry?" she asked gruffly, "You didn't do it?" She locked onto Keryn with a penetrating gaze, hoping to make her reveal some information that might actually be useful.

Putting the pillow she was using for comfort back onto the bed, Keryn wiped her eyes and moved closer to Devon. "We know you didn't kill anyone, but you still have to stay here until..."

Devon cut her off. "Until what Keryn?? Until Rowland decides? Is he some kind of doctor here? Who put him in charge?"

Keryn's face became guarded as she sat back away from her.

Devon knew that there would be nothing more the girl would be able to say. "At least, tell me why it's not safe for me to be around others? You mentioned it before. Keryn, if I'm as much of a risk as you are all making me out to be, then I ought to know why!" Her tone was as close to begging as Devon felt comfortable.

"I can't say anything else. I've already said too much." Keryn looked toward the door as if the person behind it was listening to their conversation. "I have to go." Keryn got off the bed heading over to the door, making a light set of three knocks. "I'll be back in the morning, and maybe I will be able to show you the rest of the house." The door opened, and Devon's suspicions were right. The giant red-bearded man had been standing guard in the hallway.

With nothing left to say, Devon's only response was an unimpressed stare at the girl. Was her offer supposed to make the apprehension of sleeping in a locked room go away?

"Good night," Keryn said, as she slipped away through the door.

Devon didn't reply; she was too angry to say anything nice to the poor girl. She waited for the deadbolts to slide into place before climbing over the bed to sit in the same place where Keryn just was. Devon pulled the dining tray closer to her, scooping up the pancakes with her hands and shoveling them into her mouth. At this point, her pride was not above her hunger. Besides, she needed her strength for what was coming.

Devon waited at least an hour before getting off the bed and moving around the room. She needed to make sure Keryn had left, and the echo of _both_ sets of footsteps had faded out into nothingness before executing her plan. Since it wouldn't needed, she slid the empty tray of food under the bed before drawing back the covers.

From the bed, she crossed the room to remove both knobs from each side of the mirror. Once off, she was able to pull it free without noise or damage to the dresser. The frame was made from an odd wood that Devon couldn't place and seemed incredibly light as she carried it. Next she placed it face down on the bed. With her left hand, she took the pillow that Keryn was holding and used her other to pull the blankets over it, hiding the mirror. Carefully Devon placed the pillow overtop of the covered mirror before climbing up to place her right knee on top. Devon whispered, " _Well, my luck can't get much worse than this._ " As she released her weight in a slow and controlled motion, the muffled sound of splintering glass was just what Devon wanted to hear.

Since her time of living with an unstable foster mother, confinement had given Devon a feeling of fight or flight, and most often in Devon's early life that meant fight. Her foster mother, Edna, was a religious fanatic and a drunk, just one in a series of foster homes that Devon learned many hard lessons from. Edna made a routine of locking Devon in the root cellar, claiming that she was doing the work of Jesus; that someday she would save Devon's soul. Only, instead of saving her soul, Edna almost killed Devon with malnutrition and hypothermia.

Devon had made a promise to herself as she laid freezing on that cellar floor. A promise to never let someone have control over her life, no matter what the cost. After a few more failed homes, Devon fled to the streets, learning a new skill set that she hadn't needed to call upon for a long time.

Gingerly she peeled the blankets back before lifting the wood frame that held the mirror. Devon took a visual inventory of the pieces that lay exposed upon the bedsheets before placing the wood frame onto the floor. It took Devon a moment to finally pick out a long shard of mirror. Using its edge, she began to cut strips from the white dress she had woken up in, with minimal noise. Every few moments, she would pause, listening for anyone coming down the hallway before continuing. Carefully she wrapped the broader end of the shard with the material followed by the drawstring of her black track pants. Pulled tight, they created a handle on the makeshift shank.

Once she was satisfied with the stillness of the large house. Devon covered up the leftover mirror with the bedsheets, and in doing so, she exposed the corner of the mattress. Quickly and quietly, she began cutting into the bed with her makeshift tool as fistfuls of musty yellow stuffing were peeled up and tossed to the floor in quick successions. Bracing the mattress with one hand, Devon reached into the open cavity with her other, grasping one of the exposed wire coils. With all her might she pulled: it didn't take much force as the ping of the metal breaking caused her to stop. With just a few quick turns and maneuvering, and her prize was out. She was surprised. Usually, it takes a lot more to break the wire from a mattress. Guess she didn't know her own strength or was just lucky. Either way, her plan was moving faster than Devon had hoped.

Taking the broken coil, Devon stood to examine each window before deciding on the one with the largest padlock. She set the shank down on the ledge before grasping the lock to take a better look. _This lock for sure_. She straightened out the wire and bent it into a u-shape. Once the desired shape was achieved, she slid the straight end into the top of the keyhole, and the bent end just below it. Devon jostled the metal, giving the keyhole a few slight turns. It took several tries, but finally, she heard the give of the lock as it sprung open. "Yes! Like riding a bike," she said in hushed excitement. "Only one more to go."

After a few minutes, both locks were off and tossed onto the bed. Devon slid her fingers into the brass handle at the bottom of the window and her other hand to the top ledge. As carefully as she could, she pushed the window up. It was no use; the wood was old and creaked loudly against its frame as it lifted. Devon froze, her eyes wide with panic as she feared someone would have noticed the sound. She tilted her head towards the direction of the door; again, there were no footsteps or noise coming from the hallway. Thankfully her effort was not for nothing; there was just enough room for her to squeeze her way out. Now more than ever, Devon knew she had to keep her focus. The answers she needed weren't going to come from these people. First, she placed the makeshift shank out onto the ledge just to the side of the window. Next, she stretched her arms far enough to grasp the window's outer ledge and used it to pull the rest of her body through. Once out, Devon lifted herself to kneel on the ledge. Tiny clouds of vapor trailed out from her mouth as she breathed in the crisp winter air. Despite being able to see her breath, the pumping adrenaline must have been keeping her warm. Whether it was the freedom from confinement or merely a sudden gratitude for being alive, Devon was thrilled at making contact with the outside world. Even the trees seemed to speak to her senses, urging her on with fragrant whispers. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to run; run free for miles beneath the night sky.

A half ring of pine trees encompassed the spacious grounds leading into a thick, dense forest. Their branches swayed delicately in the wind under the moonlight. Devon peered over the ledge to check that the lower area was clear and to make a quick assessment for the next part of her escape. The third story and the floor below had the same stone ledge with matching framed windows. That small distance would be an easy drop for her to handle. From there, she hoped she would be able to lower herself down to the ground and flee into the shelter of the forest. With no sign of light or movement in the lower windows: it was now or never.

There was no way to hold onto the shard while climbing down. Devon tossed it down onto the frosted grass below, relieved to see it bounce slightly without breaking. She had no intention of harming anyone with it, yet the idea of being defenseless wasn't comforting either. Turning around, she lowered her right leg over the ledge, followed by the rest of her body. What a difference from the night at Derrick's! Her arm felt not just healed, but she felt stronger. Devon assumed it was from the thrill of the escape, but whatever it was; she was thankful for it. There was no desire to have a repeat of her night trying to escape the creature. As she expected, even with her toes pointed down and arms fully extended there was still at least another foot drop to the lower ledge. Devon swung her body slightly towards the window and let go.

Her stomach tensed, matching the plunge until her feet landed. Momentarily she lost her balance, taking a few seconds before she could regain her composure. _Yes!_ She thought as Devon laughed nervously to herself with relief.

Now that she ready to continue, Devon used the window frame to steady herself, lowering her body into a crouch. Against the window, she looked at the reflection staring back at her. The sky behind her was a world of its own, and she appeared to be a ghostly visitor. Something about the brightness of the moon entranced her, surrounding Devon with new vitality. Just then, a patch of clouds drifted across the sky, darkening the image in the glass in front of her. In a sudden panic, Devon realized there was a face beyond her own dimmed reflection. Inside a man she did not recognize was standing in the darkroom staring directly at her. As she recoiled in shock, Devon fell backward from the ledge. In a swift motion, her body twisted in midair and landed hard on her side. The lower half of her body was on the stone pathway, and her torso sprawled on the grass. When her eyes opened, she panicked, the glinted end of the shard was poised centimeters from her pupil. There was no time to lay there, and the pain was a luxury she couldn't afford. In these precious seconds, nothing mattered except the need to flee, before whoever was in the window could raise the alarm. Devon rolled away from the shard, quickly standing up. Then in a crouch, she grabbed the handle of the blade and sprinted for the woods.

The dark must have been playing tricks on her vision. Devon quickly closed the distance across the field faster than she had expected. She glanced back, seeing the stone manor in all of its entirety before blinding floodlights obliterated the space between the house and herself, illuminating Devon and exposing her position. There was no doubt now; someone had noticed she was gone. Instinctively she turned, praying the trees would hide her long enough to get away. Within a few steps, she was in its shelter, blocking out the light from behind. Recklessly Devon charged through the woods with no sense of where she was or what direction she was going; her desire to escape pushed her forward.

After running further into the forest, Devon discovered that instead of becoming tired, she felt invigorated. Her legs felt powerful as she dodged obstacles as swiftly as they appeared. Despite the danger of her situation, there was freedom and intimacy within the forest around her.

For some reason, without the aid of shoes, Devon couldn't feel the pain of nature's floor against the pads of her bare feet. Dazzled by the vividness of every branch and mossy stone, she couldn't tell if it was real or a hallucination. _Maybe the water had been tainted_. Devon's breath pumped thick clouds of steam into the winter air. The smell of earth and pine filled and overwhelmed her lungs as she raced further into the forest. Everything felt so natural as the trees whipped past her in a blur. Without a flashlight, she should be stumbling through the darkness like a teenager in a B-rated horror flick. Instead, Devon could make out the shapes and details of the nocturnal life surrounding her as she charged through the forest with the grace of a doe.

Suddenly, there was a break in her connection with nature, as she burst through a big group of trees and emerged onto a large stone bluff divided by a narrow, raging river. Devon's feet slid on the smooth rock, stopping just before the steep ledge of rocky earth. She jumped back just as the ground separated beneath her and plummeted into the dark water. Every reason for Devon to flee into the forest came back to her. A rising panic and frustration grew as Devon couldn't see a way to cross the river safely. If she attempted to jump to the other side, it would carry a risk of being swept away in the thrashing water. There must be another way? Devon would have to go along it and hope for a more manageable place to cross.

Her heart leapt as she heard the loud snap of a branch coming from the bushes behind her. Devon spun around, gripping her makeshift weapon in her hand.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" she demanded.

Beyond the intense sound of the raging river, she could hear the low menacing growl, reverberating through her body. No one could forget that feeling, the very same sensation Devon had when she first heard the beast in Derrick's apartment. Her heart began to pound, both hands trembled as fear overtook her. With careful movements, she walked slowly back to the bluff's edge, stopping when she felt the soil give way under her heel.

The bushes began to rustle. Something immense was making its way through them. The growl came again but louder. This time its impact punched at Devon's senses, causing her to sway backward as if something had physically attacked her. All around the breeze swirled with the thick scent of musk. _It can't be_? There was no mistake; it was the same scent from the beast that had killed Derrick and Jackson. Not just another of its kind, but the same one, here in the woods with Devon.

Rage erupted inside her. How dare this thing corner her, hunt her so persistently? Had it not taken enough from her already? Devon gripped the shard tightly. "I'm not going to die here!" she screamed, lunging toward the bushes.

Giant claws extended as the beast emerged, rising from the underbrush to meet her attack.

In a blur of movement, she threw the knife with all her force at the creature's face. Lifting her one leg while twisting her body, she placed it against the creature's stomach, kicking off. Devon used the momentum and opposing force, to launch herself headlong toward the river. The wounded beast was sent crashing back into the bushes. She knew it would only be seconds before it could regain itself. With every ounce of power in her legs, Devon pushed out, trying to throw her body across the river. The wet earth crumbled under her feet, not giving her the leverage she needed. In seconds, her ribcage crashed against the opposing ledge. Devon's arms scrambled at the dirt, trying to find something to grasp. Her body began to edge backward, and her hands clawed in desperation but it was no use. The river's thunderous speed pulled her legs in, and the freezing water enveloped her. Devon gasped; her mouth and lungs were shocked as they filled with icy water.

Devon found everything around was shrouded in darkness as the current thrashed her against the rocks. With no way to find the river's surface, her life was now at the mercy of the violent stretch of water. Suddenly, an intense burst of terrible pain exploded inside her temple as Devon collided with something in the abyss. A blackness permeated her mind as everything around her went silent.

Chapter Three

DEAD GIRL WALKING

_Devon charged through into the night, followed closely by a few hundred riders_. With each stride of her horse, her armor echoed as they raced towards the onset of battle. White knuckled, she firmly grasped the hilt of her longsword as she raised it high above her head, the other clenched tight whipping at the leather reins. Ahead of her stood a sea of soldiers stretched across the horizon and poised for battle. All around the air filled with the of lather of horses, fresh earth churning beneath their hooves, and the pungent fear amongst foes she fiercely rode to meet.

Several feet from her enemies, Devon wielded her sword, rounding it forward in an arc as she let out a battle cry. A brave soul broke from the opposing line, charging his horse towards her, as the blade of Devon's sword cleaved hard into the neck of the rider. Its impact sent a mist of hot blood, which filled her senses and bathed her exposed face. The force of the blow was so intense that it threw the rider off his saddle, and his death released an oncoming wave of enemies. While from behind, the increasing cries of her men filled her with exhilaration.

In seconds, thousands of soldiers clashed together in a massive sea of butchery. From within the bloody haze, the firelight from the enemy's torches glinted across the gold tones of her armor.

Grasping a fistful of the horse's mane, she climbed up to stand on its back before lunging herself onto the next passing rider. Both warriors fell to the ground as she collided into him. Devon used her strength to pin her opponent as they landed, punching the front of his helmet as it crumpled beneath her fist. With her fingers, she reached under the front lip, tearing his helm away as though merely breaking open the shell of a crab. The rider roared, spit frothing from his mouth as he screamed at her. Details of his words became drowned out by the clattering of armor and the screams coming from the soldiers being slaughtered in every direction. Terror filled the man's eyes as he stared into Devon's unflinching, bloodlust as she looked down upon him. His blood poured through shattered teeth as he struggled to choke out a plea for his life.

Devon's eyes held neither pity nor remorse while she pulled his head sideways. Instead of mercy, she crouched over him and ferociously sank her sharp teeth into the pale flesh of his neck. Muscle and tendons pulled apart between Devon's industrious jaws, unwilling to give until she felt the snap of his spine under their tremendous force. His body tensed for a second before finally falling limp. With no pulse, Devon released him, dropping his remains to the ground.

Devon's eyes danced around, hunting for a new target while the butchery taking place in all directions delighted her senses.

"Devon..." a voice instantly drew her attention, and the noise of war grew distant as if it were now part of another world beyond.

Around her the battlefield faded away, leaving only the scent of blood hanging in the air. Below Devon, the body of the man she had just killed was replaced by Derrick. Lifeless as last she saw him, he laid along the crimson floor of the condo as his wound gushed forth, filling a growing pool around them. Both her hands once again vainly tried to stop the bleeding, looking around for someone to help.

In the kitchen, Devon could make out the small dark-haired boy from her dream. She couldn't help but smile, as she gazed on his familiar face. These surroundings were all wrong, she thought. Why was he here and not the clearing in a forest?

On the counter at the edge of the kitchen island, he sat with his feet kicking back and forth while staring back at Devon. His expression was playful as he hummed a comforting tune under his breath, something old and familiar to her. His humming turned into song as he opened his mouth and began to sing.

_Love's young dream, alas, is over._

_ Yet my strains of love shall hover_

_ Near the presence of my lover_

_ All through the night_

His voice was soft and airy, calming her. He held her gaze, and the flecks of gold in his eyes began to brighten as he sang. Devon struggled to hear him over the new sounds growing louder. _The sounds of..._

Little birds were chirping above her in the open air and the uncontrollable rush of water coming from further behind her. Tiny bumps lifted her skin, lining it with gooseflesh as a cold breeze brushed across her wet body. Devon felt numb, incapable of even opening her eyelids that now shielded her from the rays of sun pressing against them.

Close by; she heard the grinding rocks beneath light slow footsteps until they skidded a few feet in front of her. Devon kept still. Had she been found by the people she just escaped?

"Come on, don't be a chicken. You poke her." From a few feet in front of Devon, a young boy's voice called out as he taunted someone on.

"Eww, no! You're sick, I'm going to tell mom!" came the answering voice of a little girl.

"Chicken. Fine. I'm gonna poke her."

"Don't! You'll hurt her!" The girl wailed in distress, as the sound of gumboots stomped through the mud, just in front of where Devon lay. The boy's shadow draped across her face, shading her from the warmth of the sun's red glow. Above her, she could hear his labored breathing. Devon could tell the boy was anxious, filled with excitement and fear as he braved to do what the little girl refused. Maybe if she lay still enough, they would leave her alone and move on.

A dull pressure against her ribcage proved her wrong as the boy gently prodded at her with a branch. She remained focused and continued to lay as still as she could. Since his failure to receive any response the first time with his delicate poking, he quickly escalated to a hard, sharp jab into Devon's stomach. The pressure was more than she expected, causing an involuntary flinch that tightened her stomach, ejecting a fountain of river water from her mouth. As she violently coughed, Devon sat up, looking groggily around in between gasps for air. Thankfully there was no sign of anyone else except the two small kids that had found her.

Both children screamed simultaneously in panic; the boy was sent toppling backward into the riverbank, floundering in the muddy shallows. While the little girl raced away in terror down an old dirt path.

In a daze she reached for the boy, grasping his mud-slicked boot. Devon needed to question him of their whereabouts before letting him go. Both of his eyes were stricken with panic, screaming and kicking at Devon's hand. In his fight, the boy was able to wriggle free, leaving only the boot in her grasp. He scrambled out of the water and fled down the path after his sister, running slightly lopsided with one bare foot.

Finally regaining a normal pattern of breathing, Devon let out a soft groan as she crawled to the water's edge. Her memory of the previous night was hazy. All she could remember was waking up in the house and fleeing through a forest. But how had she wound up here, being prodded by a young boy? And where was she now?

What remained of the black tracksuit she wore was shredded; part of the sleeves and legs were completely torn off, and what remained was caked with mud and leaves. _No wonder the kids ran away, look at me I'm a mess_ , she thought. Desperately she tried to summon a memory of how she had gotten to this place while brushing most of the dirt away as a sharp pain pierced the side of her head, dislodging the memory of the black current pulling her down. She knew that she shouldn't be here, but she was. Grateful to be alive and in one piece, Devon knew she couldn't stay. It was a safe bet that the people she fled from would be looking for her, dead or alive.

As she stood up, Devon used her arm to shield her eyes from the morning light to get a better look. Mud seemed to be the primary feature of this part of the stream, covering both banks and squishing up between her bare toes. Upstream in the distance, the ground was rockier with lush green moss typical of the west coast forests. Devon knew going upstream wasn't an option, since the people she was escaping from were somewhere in that direction. Downstream the mud seemed to get worse, and just the thought of fighting through it with her legs exhausted her more. That just left the direction the children had fled, down the path. After eliminating the other options, Devon decided there was nowhere else to go but after the kids.

At the end of the trail, she emerged onto a grassy slope. In the distance was a large farmyard surrounded by a faded wooden fence. At the center of the field stood an old farmhouse with smoke billowing out of its chimney into the winter's air. Devon's eyes could see the little girl in her pink jacket just breaching the front steps while, in the distance, the little boy followed after her across the field. The landscape was undoubtedly picturesque and inviting, although Devon knew she still had to be cautious. With little to no options, she followed after them along a path of trampled grass.

Devon came across several boards that had been pulled sideways from the fence, forming a large enough gap for her to slip through. By this point, the frightened children had long since disappeared into the house. She figured, at any rate, that the children's parents would, at least, have a phone she could use to call the police or her father.

Just a few minutes across the field and Devon reached the gravel drive leading up to the front porch.

A strong woman with a wild mane of bright red hair burst through the door, quickly making her way down the front steps to meet Devon's approach. Both the children cowered through the safety of the screen door, as the little girl and her tear-stained face continued to sob lightly. To Devon's shock, the woman lifted a shotgun chest level, pointing it directly at her.

With what happened at the creek, Devon expected that the children would have alerted someone that she was coming. Though, a shotgun welcome was not what she was anticipating. Derrick's, the strange house, and now this red-haired Annie Oakley had Devon questioning how much more could she take? Right now, all Devon wanted to do was to go home and tell her father she was safe and alive.

"Whoa, put down the gun!" She raised her hands holding up the boy's boot. "I just need to use your phone," Devon waved the boy's boot in her right hand as if it were a flag of surrender.

As her head tilted, the woman frowned almost thoughtfully. Still, she made no move to lower her weapon.

"Sorry, but you don't get to tell the girl with the gun what to do," she said. "My kids come in here crying and shouting something about a dead body coming to life, and then you show up looking like something the cat dragged in."

All she could do was nod her head in agreement; Devon couldn't help but faintly snort with laughter after she looked at herself. "Yeah, that's just the thing," she said. "I _was_ the dead body. Now can you please put that gun down?"

Still reluctant to lower her weapon, the woman's eyebrow raised, and her lip pulled to the side. It was apparent that she was not sure what to make of Devon's claim. " _You're_ the dead body?" she asked skeptically.

Devon smiled, without lowering her hand, she turned the wrist pointing to herself. "In the flesh."

"What kind of trouble are you in? And why do you need my phone?" The woman slightly lowered the gun waiting for Devon to respond.

"I just need to call my father and let him know I'm okay. I swear, I'm not here to you bring any trouble."

A simple nod was all she received while the woman remained in her stance.

"Look, your kids found me in the river," Devon explained. "Your son was good enough to poke me with a stick to see if I was okay. See... he left this behind." Devon stepped forward reaching out to hand the lady her son's boot.

Finally, the woman lowered the gun completely, taking the offered footwear and biting her lip to stifle a smile. Her face turned serious and in a shade matching her fiery hair. While still keeping her eyes on Devon, she called over her shoulder. "Travis John Warren, you get out here right now! And tell your sister to get this poor girl a blanket!"

Without hesitation, the boy pushed the screen door open and bounded down the steps. Devon was able to get a glimpse of the girl before she ran off to fulfill her errand. The child's hair was the same vibrant red as her mother's.

Travis stood by his mother's side, eyes downcast at the tone of her disapproval.

The woman turned, glowering at him with a serious expression. Her one hand propped on her hip, grasping the boot while the other held the gun now rested along her side. "Travis?" she waited for the boy to confess his story.

He twisted his foot while staring down on the ground, desperately hiding his dirty sock behind the boot that was still on. Finally, he answered in a voice so low and quiet that it barely registered. "Yes, ma?"

"Is this girl telling me the truth?" his mother asked even though the answer was obvious.

"But, Ma!" he protested, looking suddenly up into her face, now ready to defend his actions.

"Don't you dare, 'but, Ma' _me_. Were you poking this poor girl with a stick?"

Defeated, he hung his head again, mumbling, "Yes, Ma." Without forewarning, Travis looked towards Devon with cringing embarrassment and softly apologized.

"Apology accepted, little man." Devon smiled.

Satisfied with the exchange, the woman switched the safety on and gracefully held the shotgun forward to her son. "Now, tell me what you're going to do with this?"

Flushed with pride at being given such responsibly the boy gleamed. "I will go directly to the gun cabinet and lock it up."

"That's my boy" The woman placed the shotgun and boot into in the boy's eager hands. Ruffling his hair, she turned him around by his head and gave him a nudge towards the house.

It shocked Devon to see such a casual exchange of a weapon between a parent and child.

Almost knocked over by her brother charging past, the little girl returned with the blanket. "I'm Sophia!" The little girl eagerly smiled while she held it up, trying not to lose sight of Devon over the mass of the material.

Sophia's mother reached down and took the blanket from her, shaking it loose.

Quick as he was in the house, Travis was back out grabbing Sophia by the hand. "Come on," pulling the little girl reluctantly away as he marched toward the house.

Devon couldn't help but stare at her blankly before blurting out; "You just gave that boy a shotgun!"

The woman simply smiled, draping the blanket gently around her shoulders. "Where are my manners? It seems I'm no better than my son today." She wiped her hands down her jeans before offering one to Devon. "I'm Jenn, you've met my kids Travis and Sophia."

This sudden shift from a woman who was ready to extinguish her existence only five minutes ago to a nurturer was very perplexing. Although Devon could not be sure if she can trust Jenn, it was pretty clear that she was her best chance of getting a message to the police or her father.

Jenn gave Devon an earnest look. "As for the gun, you needn't worry yourself. There weren't any bullets in it to start with." The fiery red head let out a tiny bark of a laugh. "Besides, you should be more concerned with yourself. You're lucky you aren't dead of hypothermia."

Jenn was right, how was she not freezing? It was still winter, and somehow, she survived a night in the river. Wisps of breath were frosting in the air as Devon spoke followed by a realization that she didn't need the blanket at all. Devon was so distracted by the shotgun that she didn't consider how cold she should have been. _It must be some side effect of the adrenaline from escaping last night or shock maybe I'm in shock_ , she thought.

"So how about it, Stranger? What's your name?" Jenn asked.

Devon's jaw gaped open, caught off guard. The sudden need for an alias made Devon grasp onto the first face that came into her mind. "Uh...Keryn. My name is Keryn." Stupid choice, but it was too late, the words had already left her mouth. Having just escaped an abduction of sorts, Devon would have to protect her identity. Just because she had put the shotgun away, it didn't mean Devon was ready to trust her completely. Besides, Jenn could know the people up the river, which now made Keryn an even worst pick.

This uncertain introduction earned Devon a funny look, but Jenn shrugged it off, accepting the name at face value. Jenn placed her arm around Devon's back, guiding her slowly to the front door, while she carried on with her questions. "Not meaning to pry, but what's your story, Keryn? It must be something to end up face down in the river this morning and live to tell the tale?"

As relaxed as possible, Devon laughed. "Oh, that. I was partying with friends up the river, and..." it didn't even make sense to Devon, it just wasn't possible.

"And" Jenn prompted Devon.

She looked at Jenn with concern. "I think I'm still in a bit of shock; I don't really remember how I got to this morning."

"Oh... one of _those_ nights. Hey, no judgement here. I was young too once you know," Jenn remarked, recalling her memory while holding the door open for Devon. "What a different time, that was."

Out of habit, Devon stopped to remove her shoes, only to remember her feet were bare and filthy. "Do you have a rag or something that I can wipe my feet off with?"

Jenn laughed. "Honey, this is a farmhouse. Mud and muck are no strangers to these floors." With a flick of her wrist and a nudge to Devon's back, Jenn pointed down the hall while ushering Devon through the door. "There is a bathroom on the right. A hot shower is just what you need. Just jump in, clothes and all. Hopefully, it will jog that memory of yours. While you're at it, I'll go find you something you can throw on." Jenn looked her up and down, in an attempt at estimating her size. "It will work, might be a bit big on you, but then again, random strangers can't be choosers."

"Thank you." Devon sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Did I stutter?" Jenn rolled her eyes. "You were good at _Thank you_." She left, mumbling and shaking her head in amusement while she made her way up the stairs. "City kids, always so skeptical."

Stepping lightly, Devon tried to leave as little mud as possible as she tiptoed to the end of the hall.

Once she was alone behind the closed door, Devon quickly climbed into the claw foot bathtub, drawing the curtain and turning on the shower. Without hesitating, she gently peeled off the remnants of the tracksuit, and piled them at the back side of the tub. The tufts of rising steam and water beading down the curtain comforted her as she relaxed into its heat. Devon ran her hands over her skin while marveling at how unscathed her body was. Those mysteries would have to wait; Devon was facing a house full of strangers and needed to gather her composure. There was still so much distance to cover before she would be safe at home. Also, she needed to come up with a plausible story of how she ended up here.

Jenn was right, a thorough shampoo and several twigs later and Devon was feeling almost human again. So much tension had been washed away with the mud and muck as she stepped out of the tub. It was amazing how much she had taken simple comforts for granted.

As Devon piled the pieces of her old tracksuit into the sink, there was a knock on the door.

"How's it going in there, city girl? Ready for some clothes?"

Devon opened the door wide enough for her hostess to pass through a handful of items, releasing a puff of steam into the hallway. "Thank you."

Jenn paused as Devon smiled biting her lip. "Now you're getting the hang of it. You can find us in the kitchen when you're ready." With the assurance that Devon was free to take her time, Jenn gently closed the door, leaving her to dress.

A huge reminder of the night before was the gold bracelet still hanging delicately from her wrist as she wiped the condensation from the mirror. Studying it closer, Devon was not sure if it was gold due to its lightweight. Its design was beautiful, and a shame that the police would have to cut it off of her as evidence. The slight attachment to it only added to the creep factor of the strange house and the people who put it on her. Devon tried to remove it in the shower, yet no matter how hard she pulled there was no way to slide it off. She stood back in full view of the mirror, the glimmer of the bracelet looked peculiar against the button up plaid flannel shirt and denim coveralls she'd been given to wear. Now dressed and feeling clean, she felt ready to leave the privacy of the bathroom.

Devon opened the door stepping into the hallway where she was immediately greeted by Sophia grinning up at her in marvel. Face to face with her for more than the few seconds outside; Devon noticed that the girl was the spitting image of her mother. Her tangled red curls framed her face with the same fiery halo, her pale blue eyes the mirror image of those Devon had seen staring down the barrel of the shotgun. One of the most significant differences between her brazen mother and Sophia was the girl's innocent nature.

The little girl continued with unabashed glee, moving her head to the side as she examined Devon. "I'm glad you're not dead," she gushed before she whisked herself down the hallway and into the kitchen.

How could she not be moved by the child's infectious nature? It was hard to hold back tears as her eyes welled. The void she could feel in her abdomen ached when she breathed deeply, desperately trying to steady her composure. Devon put on her best smile and readied herself as she followed Sophia into the kitchen.

An astonishing aroma filled the kitchen with a mix of coffee and freshly baked bread. "Are you a coffee drinker?" Jenn asked, sipping from a chipped mug bearing the slogan: WORLD'S #1 MOM. "Help yourself; there's a pot on the stove. You look like you could use some, and it wouldn't hurt to have a bite to eat. That is if your stomach's up to it." She gestured impatiently for Devon to take advantage of the hospitality. "Go on, make yourself at home, mugs are in the cupboard above the sink." Travis paid little attention to Devon while munching away on his cereal and toast. Sophia held her spoon frozen in mid-bite, unable to keep her eyes off Devon while she crossed the room to pour a cup of coffee. Taking the only chair left at the table across from Jenn, Devon joined them, indulging in a few pieces of bread.

Jenn eyed her over before mustering a giggle.

"What?" Devon looked around the room.

"You just look like a real country girl now." Jenn's laugh burst out, unable to be contained.

Devon couldn't hold a straight face either and joined the light-hearted laughter, followed by Sophia. It felt good to laugh, and she felt herself trusting that these folks were exactly as they seemed: genuine, helpful people.

Travis shook his head "Girls are weird."

"So, city girl, you going to tell me how you ended up face down in a river bed?"

This time, Devon had prepared herself. She took just enough time in the bathroom to concoct a semi-believable alibi. "Yes... I'm just not sure if it's kid appropriate?"

"Go ahead. I don't shelter my kids. Besides, they will be your age someday."

"Good point. Well, I was partying up the river with a bunch of friends, and I guess I had a bit too much to drink. I must have wandered off and gotten lost, or thought it would be fun to take a swim?" Devon shrugged. "I am a klutz, so there is a good chance that I slipped and fell in. Honestly, I don't remember much."

It wasn't the best lie. Devon certainly was not the type of person to go to wild bush parties anymore. Lucky for her this woman didn't know her, and the story was well prepared; with just enough detail but not too much to make someone suspect otherwise. Devon held her eyes steady, hoping Jenn would buy it and not ask too many questions.

Jenn lifted her eyebrows, breathing in sharply as though bracing herself against the urge to deliver a lecture.

_God, she must think I'm the world's biggest idiot_ , Devon thought.

"Well... I'm not your mom. You're just lucky to be alive," was Jenn's diplomatic response.

"Earlier, I mentioned that I needed to use a phone." Devon asked. "I lost my cell in the river, and I really need to call my father."

"That's right. Well, we have one, but unfortunately, the phone lines are down." Jenn gave a lopsided smile. "Welcome to winter in the country."

_Damnit! How am I supposed to get help_? "Oh," Devon said. Her disappointment was apparent on her face.

"If it helps I could give you a lift home or somewhere that has a phone. Possibly a friend's?" Jenn offered, her face brightening. "Plus, you're in luck. It's Saturday, and the kids and I were going into the city after breakfast for some shopping adventures."

"Are you going downtown?" Devon asked, so relieved at the news she blurted out "I live right on Broad Street, by Johnston."

"Well, that's a spooky coincidence."

Devon looked at Jenn, unsure of her meaning and realizing she may have just given away too much information.

"It's like you were meant to show up on my doorstep. That's exactly where we're are going." She gestured to her son, sitting across the table picking at his toast. "The kids are far too eager to spend their Christmas money. Travis here got a gift certificate for a vintage toy store down there."

"Mom, it's called Cherry Bomb Toys." Devon could tell this name was of great importance to Travis like he was going on a holy pilgrimage.

"Sorry, he got a gift certificate for Cherry Bomb Toys. Is that better?" Travis nodded his head with great admiration.

"I know the store. It's only half a block away from my place," Devon hoped that things were finally going her way. She smiled at Travis. "You're a pretty lucky guy, getting your Christmas money early."

Travis stared at Devon in confusion, the same way earlier when he said _Girls are Weird_. Travis looked toward his mother unsure of what to say.

"Early?" Jenn piped in. "Are you feeling okay hon? You didn't hit your head in that river did you? Christmas was last week."

Devon's face went pale as she stared blankly at Jenn, hoping that this was some funny joke they were playing on her. Her mind was reeling. How long had those people had her? Desperately she tried to keep control of her emotions, so she wouldn't give anything away that could betray her cover story.

"I'd assumed when you said partying; you meant last night? For Year's Eve." Jenn asked, her forehead lightly creasing.

_You should really drink some water. You've been asleep for a while_ , Keryn's voice echoed in Devon's thoughts.

_Eleven Days... How could this even be_? Devon was stunned. If this was true, those people had her for that whole time.

Devon could sense the moment's awkwardness as if her fears were felt by all. Everyone's eyes sat fixated on her with concern. She did her best to laugh it off; Devon didn't want to draw any more unnecessary attention to this situation.

"Yeah, of course. My family always did things a bit differently during the holidays, that's all. We tend to celebrate in January." Devon willed her hands not to shake as she placed her mug down. What else could she do besides sip on her coffee and try to act normal?

After the small breakfast that Devon barely managed to finish, the kids, Jenn and Devon climbed into an old 1957 red Chevy truck and headed into town. Both of the children were full of energy and chatted excitedly about the treasures they hoped to find. Along the main road, Devon finally realized that she was all the way out in Sooke, a small town about an hour's drive from the city. She hadn't asked Jenn where they were in order to maintain the story she created. Making a mental note of the road's name, which would be essential in helping the police find her kidnappers, she settled in to watch the scenery pass.

In a blur, the trees and houses passed by the window. Devon spent most of the drive quietly trying to remember anything about the time she had lost. Aside from captivity, the little boy in her dreams was the only constant thing she could recall. The words he had sung to comfort her had already faded away, but the melody remained as Devon hummed it to soothe herself. Sophia and Travis amused themselves with games of I spy. The simplicity of childhood was a miracle in itself, one which she found herself envious. From what she could see, Both Sophia and Travis seemed utterly unaware of how harsh the world can be.

_I spy with my little eye.... something... that is not... Right_. Devon played along her head. Catching Jenn's glance in the rearview mirror, she smiled. "They really are lucky to have such a great mother," she said, a little wistfully.

Jenn beamed back, both proud and a little embarrassed by the praise. "I try my best," she answered humbly, as she looked back at the road. After that, Jenn was gracious enough to leave Devon to her private thoughts. They passed the rest of the trip in relative silence, the only sounds were the playful laughter of the children, and the CBC radio piping out soft classics at a low volume.

When they finally reached their destination, a light mist of rain started to fall. It was a relief to step down onto the cobblestone sidewalk, now less than a block from Devon's apartment. The smell of the rain-darkened pavement made her feel a twinge of homesickness. So much had happened that it left her feeling overwhelmed and close to tears. This moment was the first time she felt just how long she had been missing.

Devon turned her back from Jenn, taking a moment to calm her eyes while Jenn helped Sophia out of her seat.

Oblivious to anything but the prospect of new toys, Travis tore past them and into the shop.

"Boys. What can you expect?" Jenn held Sophia in her arms, shaking her head while smiling at Devon across the hood of the truck. "By the time I get in there, he'll have probably spent it all on Cube Dudes."

A mustered smile was the best Devon could produce. The matters of children were far from her mind with being so close to home, her refuge where she could finally gather her thoughts and figure out what was going on. Devon looked down at the oversized work boots and clothing she'd been given and asked Jenn if she wanted her clothes returned. She felt it was doubtful, but it was polite to ask. After all, Jenn's kindness had gone above and beyond what most people would have done for a complete stranger.

"No, honey. You can just donate them to a shelter if you like or toss them out." Jenn gave Devon a long look of maternal concern. "You sure you're going to be okay? How are you going to get into your place?"

"It wouldn't be the first time the manager has had to let me into the building." Devon tried her best to sound casual, not wanting to worry the woman further. "I'll be okay," pushing her hands into the pockets. She was just as much trying to reassure herself as she was Jenn. As she walked backward away from the two of them, Devon said her goodbyes, reminding Sophia to be good to her mother, before crossing the street.

Devon lived in a bachelor apartment above a stretch of stores, a typical arrangement in downtown Victoria. On the corner of the street, she passed Legend's comic book store, where she was instantly stopped dead in her tracks by her reflection. An eruption of laughter overcame Devon as she took in her appearance. _You really do look like a girl from the country_. Everything was out of character: the baggy coveralls, the plaid long sleeve shirt, the oversized boots. If it were the 90's, it could easily pass for grunge wear.

As she turned, a pedestrian suddenly came in contact and roughly impacted Devon's shoulder as he moved to get past her. There was no apology; he just cursed at her as he continued on his way. Instinctively her fist clenched while the laughter died on her lips. "Watch it!" she shouted. The man turned to give her one final glare, and Devon recognized him as the older man who lived down the hall from her. _God, that guy is always such a dick_ , she thought.

As soon as he looked away, she took after him. Devon kept pace as he entered the building and just managing to catch the door unnoticed before it closed. When she neared the bottom stairs, she waved to another tenant she occasionally spoke with. Instead of the usual smile and idle chit-chat, the woman gestured with a blank look and carried on while she opened her mailbox. It could have been her clothing. Devon knew she wasn't in the most presentable state, and right now wasn't the time to ask. The most important thing was to find the building manager and hope that he was available to let Devon into her apartment.

By the top of the stairs, Devon could hear the chatter of a police radio. The further she went up, the louder the sound became. For them to be here for any other purpose than her disappearance would be too much of a coincidence. Unable to be anything but be overwhelmed with joy at being safe and alive, Devon's lip trembled while a smile broke across her face. She put herself in the direct path of the oncoming men as she prepared to tell the police news of her return. Both officers glanced her over as they trudged by in the cramped hallway. One of the officers nodded politely with a murmured, "Ma'am," but neither of them seemed to recognize her. Wouldn't they have distributed photos of her for a missing person's case?

Before she had a chance to speak up, the other officer stopped just past Devon, pulling his microphone off her shoulder. "Dispatch, this is Officer Fonseca."

"Go ahead, Fonseca."

"We are just finishing up with the Andrews apartment. Everything is unlocked and ready for her father to come clear out her things. We are heading back to the station."

Watching the police from the stairs, she tried to understand why her father would be coming to collect her things. She hadn't even been missing two weeks. Would the police abandon a missing person that soon? Even if they would, her father certainly wouldn't. _Whatever was wrong here could be related to the people at the house back in Sooke_. Her joy was hardening into fear and paranoia. If no one were expecting her to come back home, then they had to be the only ones to blame.

"Roger, Fonseca. See you back at the station."

The second officer shook his head "I don't know why Gregson needed us to come down here and do this now. This place has been wrapped up for days now. I mean, it's not like she's coming back to it."

Devon was locked in horror, wanting to call out to them at the edge of the stairs. How did they not recognize her face? And what did they mean by not coming back? She was standing right here.

"Wait," The one officer held up his hand looking back at Devon as though something significant had just occurred to him.

_Here we go_ , she thought. _Now he's figuring it out_.

"Should we give the key back to the landlord?"

Their obliviousness dumbfounded Devon; she watched as the second policeman pushed the other's hand away as he continued down the stairs.

"You never listen. I left them on the side table as the landlord instructed. The girl is dead, let's give her poor father some privacy."

_Dead_? She thought it was strange that they didn't recognize her, but then why would they be looking for a dead girl? None of it made sense. She wasn't dead; she was standing right here. It did explain what he meant about not coming back. She decided against running after them, feeling sure they were referring to her.

The fatigue of this continuing nightmare had worn on her last nerve. Devon turned away from the stairs; her legs began to shake as though she just finished the last few steps of a industrious hike. All over the door frame were strips of bright yellow caution tape barring her apartment door. A lump lodged tightly in her throat as she turned the knob, forcing herself to move. Hesitating only a fraction of a second, Devon nudged the door open. She crept under the police ribbon only to find that the last fraction of her life had been torn apart.

Every drawer was pulled out and upended, and their contents were strewn about the floor in messy piles. The clothes from her closet were piled in a heap amid the sheets of her unmade bed. Devon came undone at its sight. This once private sanctuary from the world had been violated and left in a state to rival the chaos of her mind.

For a long moment, Devon quietly stood on the threshold in a state of shock. It was almost as if her mind was trying to remain still, to prevent this sight from becoming a reality. From behind her, the sound of a closing door echoed down the hall loud enough to pull her out of the void.

Devon stepped further in and quietly pulled the door shut behind her. The sleeve of her plaid shirt, pressed hard against her eyes, wiping away the tears she hadn't realized she'd been shedding. She trudged like a sleepwalker across the room, automatically dodging the mess with little thought.

As she reached her desk, Devon slumped into the chair. What next? The thought plagued her as she rested her forehead down against her arms. She pulled a hand out, and blindly reached beneath the desk for the power button on her computer tower. Instead, Devon felt nothing. She ducked her head around and under to see if it had been moved or possibly hidden by debris. Only to find that the tower was gone entirely. The police must have seized it when they searched her apartment.

At least the phone was still here and, luckily for her, she always paid her bills a month ahead. Devon picked it up, not surprised by the rapid tone indicating that she had voicemail. Punching *98 with her finger against the phone's keypad, the automated voice replied. _You have 16 new messages_ [beep].

It was still difficult to accept the idea that she'd been missing for 11 days. The first few messages were the standard, a friend checking in regarding her break-up, someone asking Devon to switch shifts at work. All of them were left before she had gone missing, or before people thought she was dead. Then, came one she had once been anxiously waiting for, a call that came the day after the attack:

_"Hey Devon, it's Kristine at the clinic. I know I'm not supposed to tell you this over the phone, but you're my girl, and I've got your back. Plus, I get to be the first of your friends to say...congratulations momma! You're going to be the best mom ever!! Come by the clinic tomorrow, and I'll hook you up with everything you need. Hope everything went well with Derrick last night...if you need anything call me. Anyways, I'm just on my lunch break. Talk to you soon!"_

_"To delete this message, press 7. To save, pre -"_

Devon had already pulled the phone away from her ear, unable to take any more. She told herself in the bathroom at Jenn's farm that there was no way the child had survived. Even so, it devastated her to hear Kristine's voice so oblivious to what was happening. God, even Devon herself was oblivious to most of what had happened until five minutes ago.

A splash of tears began to drop onto the surface of the wood desk. "Not now," she said aloud, rubbing her eyes angrily against her sleeve. Devon fought against them despite the natural urge to give in to her sadness. Once started, there was a good chance she wouldn't be able to stop, and in that grief, she would no longer be able to tell who or what she was crying for. _To hell with this_.

After rummaging through the mess of her apartment, Devon managed to locate her spare keys and retrieve some money she had stashed away behind a painting on the wall. There was a café around the corner that still had an old pay-as-you-go computer. With some luck, maybe she could find some information online about her supposed death. Calling her father would be pointless, he never owned a cell phone, and besides, he was on his way here according to the cops. Devon quickly changed into her clothes, pulling her hair back with an elastic she plucked from the change dish. Once the hallway was empty, she was gone.

Inside the coffee shop, Devon was heartened by the familiar smell of roasting coffee and pastries. Her ears could pick out bits of conversation, little bubbles of normalcy all around her. With little time, she quickly made her way up to the counter by cutting in front of the four-person lineup. Devon leaned over the counter catching the barista's attention. "Hey Will, the usual, please."

The man's face was unimpressed. After a flustered pause, looking at the lineup and back to Devon he asked, "And what would that be...?

"Will, seriously? I'm not having the kind of day to joke around. Double Americano... Like I always get when I come here. Hence, the usual." _Jesus, not even the tiniest thing is going to come easy_. Aware that she was being unfair, Devon couldn't help sounding a bit bitchy after everything she had just gone through.

The barista gave her an odd look and began preparing her order, shaking his head to himself as he busied about at the espresso machine. A minute later he returned, with her coffee in hand. "That'll be...."

"Yeah, two twenty-five. Here you go." She pushed forward the change already sitting on the counter. The man turned his attention to the line up before Devon could ask if the computer upstairs was free. Instead, she asked one of the other baristas. Hearing that it was, she pulled out a five dollar bill and tossed it on the counter. "Here, call it a tip."

Slightly mystified, the girl pocketed the bill and resumed her work as Devon made her way up the stairs.

Staff members at the cafe never charged her for the computer. Why would they? She was probably the only person who used it now that Wi-Fi and smartphones had made internet cafés obsolete. A cursor prompt flashed on the screen as Devon stared blankly at the Google search bar. What should she type, _how did I die_?

This in itself was an overwhelming thought, so instead, she started with her email. All of her messages from the past week were marked as read, except for one, sent from her father this morning. Its subject line bore the words: " _Wish you were here._ "

She hovered the cursor over the message, hesitating nervously before opening it. The message itself was brief, but what it contained gave her a ghostly chill.

_"I don't know why I'm sending this; I just wish you were here. I wish I could talk to you. I wish you were able to open this email and tell me everything will be okay, the way you always do. You were taken too soon my loving daughter. I will always miss you..._

_ \- Dad."_

Although she was unable to accept what she was reading, Devon felt a wave of fresh tears coming on. Only minutes ago, back in the halls of her apartment, she had such confidence that her father would never give up on finding her. But here he was, already saying goodbye with these heartbreaking words... what could have made him believe that she was dead?

She closed the email and opened up a new browser window, deciding on a news search instead. Desperate for an answer, she typed in Derrick's full name, linking it to the city of Victoria. The first result of the search left her feeling as though she were in an elevator that had suddenly dropped.

"YOUNG VICTORIA COUPLE BRUTALLY SLAIN. -- No suspects found in the murder of Derrick Ashton..."

Nauseous and shaky, she opened the link. On the right of the page was Devon's photo next to Derrick's, both hovering under the horrific title. She struggled to make sense of the details despite her mind's instinct to seize up in the grip of panic.

_Derrick Ashton was killed... unknown animal attack... security guard Jackson Penn was also found mutilated in the same fashion... the partial remains of Devon Andrews were located on the balcony below... female victim's body believed to have been skinned alive... flesh at the scene matching the victim's DNA... fragment of a tattoo confirmed by the victim's father... body still currently missing..._

Chapter Four

REVELATION

Devon pushed in the keyboard tray as she leaned back in her seat, trying to physically create some distance to make the mental horror seem less real to her. As she stared at the computer screen, waves of nausea crashed over her, followed by the twisting of her stomach. As her stomach lurched harder, she left the desk fleeing down the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, her legs nearly gave out as she rounded the corner. In front of her was a young woman just exiting the bathroom, who she pushed past with barely enough time to close the door before throwing up into the sink. The rank, acidic mixture of coffee, bile, and the remnants of her toast, stung her eyes. Her hand clutched onto the side of the cold porcelain as she dry-heaved several times between labored breaths until it finally subsided. A few cranks on the faucet handle rinsed the sparse contents of her stomach away, as she splashed cold water onto her burning face.

Devon was startled as several sharp knocks rattled the door. The Barista who'd served her shouted through the thin wood, wanting to know if she was okay.

"I'm all right!" Devon choked out the lie over the sound of the running tap. Still feeling dizzy, she leaned forward placing her forehead against the cool edge of the sink; while water dripped off her quivering chin. Undone by what she had just read, tears began to pour forth as she noticed her left hand. The old self-made tattoo Devon had done when she was 12 was gone. It had long since faded into a blurry shape in the webbing of her thumb, but now it was gone completely. No mark, no scar, nothing. Just clean skin.

Fresh fear filled her being. Devon turned her back to the mirror pulling down the corner of her jacket and shirt. The tattoo on the back of her neck, the one mentioned in the news article had also been removed.

_This isn't happening; this cannot be happening._ Devon's mind battled with trying to process the onslaught of information. Both hands trembled as she turned the faucets off, returning her gaze to the mirror as she lightly sobbed.

Another wave of rapping came against the door, this time, harder than before. "Miss? Are you okay? If you don't answer me, I'm going to have to call 911."

This was the last thing she could take. Devon angrily pulled open the door, startling the barista mid-knock before he could start in on another set.

He stumbled backward as she approached, bumping into the table of a patrons while spilling their coffee onto the floor. The young man looked into her face, an expression now filled with misery and rage. A trace of fear lit up in his eyes, causing him to raise his arms protectively in her wake.

"Jack, what the hell is wrong with you?" she said, amazed by his defensive stance. "I'm in here being sick, not trashing the place."

A look of confusion flashed across his brow at the sound of Devon using his name. Stammering his words, "I'm... s.sorry about this, b..but... wait, do I know you or something?"

"Know me?! Jack, I come in here every day! Christ, what's wrong with you?" Her voice was rising, and she could feel the eyes of the patrons already beginning to stare.

The barrista backed away from Devon, focusing on her face as though trying to place her. "Look," he said, "I don't know how you know my name, but I've never seen you before..." Jack put out his arms, looking down at her now closed fists.

Devon was unaware that her hands were clenched and shaking. His confusion only seemed to make her angrier.

"Okay, you're going to have to leave," he said. "You're upsetting the customers."

"Jack!" She was furious and past the level of what she could emotionally handle. Devon slammed her fist down, punching the top of the nearest wooden table. The resulting loud crack startled even her, pulling her out of her anger. Looking around, Devon was embarrassed as she assessed the room. A man in his mid 30's had jumped away, saving his coffee from her fist, startled and afraid at her outburst. Other customers were now shifting uncomfortably, alarmed by the sound and not sure of what to do. Several of them started to pull out their cell phones, whether to get video of a fight or call the police she wasn't sure.

"That's it, Jessica call the cops," Jack yelled to one of the other baristas behind the counter.

Underneath her fist, the table had split halfway down the center. Devon was shocked at the damage as she quickly pushed her way through Jack and several patrons, fleeing the café. In a brief moment outside, she caught a glimpse through the window of the frightened barista, sliding his hand over the table's broken surface.

From where he was parked, Briggs had a perfect view of the front door to the apartment building. Gregson questioned his sanity when he informed Briggs that the girl's father was scheduled to pick up her things today so that the landlord could re-rent the suite. While Briggs technically wasn't part of this investigation, he was hoping he would get a chance to talk to the father and find out a bit more about Devon Andrews. Taking a slow sip of his coffee, Briggs listened to the chatter on his scanner. Compared to that sniper's nest in Bosnia that Briggs had lived in for two weeks, lingering in his Chevrolet sedan was pure luxury. It wasn't the Empress Hotel, but at least here he had hot coffee.

In the past week and a half, this case had gotten under his skin. Briggs would be blind not to see how it had unnerved the other members on his team. Johnson even requested a leave of absence to deal with what he had witnessed. Maybe the poor kid didn't have the skill for the kill, throwing up on the carpet like that. Then again, what was left of Miss Andrews was not exactly your average homicide scene. Forensics and their bullshit theory of a wild animal attack just weren't cutting it for Briggs. That girl had been skinned alive: animals do not flay their food.

His scanner crackled to life. "All units, a disturbance has been reported at Fierce Brew Café at Yates and Broad. Destruction of property in an argument between a female suspect and the café staff. The suspect has fled the scene on foot and is described as 5'9" with green eyes and dark hair, wearing dark clothing. The suspect is considered dangerous."

Briggs stared at his scanner in disbelief. The description of the suspect matched the description of Devon Andrews to a tee. True, there were likely a lot of women in the city that could match the description, but what were the chances they would be making a fuss at her favorite café?

He didn't hesitate. Throwing his car into gear, he took off in the direction of the café, just in time to miss seeing a young woman with dark hair walking briskly down the street.

Back inside her apartment, Devon closed the door firmly and slid down onto the floor. Her heart was racing, panicked by what had just happened. Amidst the chaos of what had become her life, Devon grappled desperately with her thoughts. All she had wanted was to come home and repair her world. When Devon left Jenn's farm, she'd felt the horrible things that had happened were outside herself; some random misfortune she could escape. Now it seemed she was being pulled deeper into the abyss. This nightmare was stalking her, trapping her...

Feeling faint, she placed her head between her knees and took several deep breaths. The beginnings of a full-blown panic attack were creeping over her. An old sweater of Derrick's lay crumpled in the nearest pile of clothes; she pulled it free and placed it as a makeshift pillow between her face and knees. His comforting smell grounded her for just a moment. It reminded her of a time when their life was simple and full of hopes and dreams. Every piece of this reality was slipping away. No matter how hard she pressed her face into the sweater, Devon knew there was no escape from it.

_Those people did this. They must have done this to me. But how? Oh god, they know where I live!.....Shit! This is the first place they are going to look. What the hell am I doing just sitting here?_

Back on her feet, she tossed Derrick's sweater onto the floor. There was a backpack on the top shelf of her walk-in closet; the bi-fold door creaked as she pushed it fully open. Blindly she reached for it, spilling the rest of the ledge down to the carpet as she pulled. She muttered to herself as she tossed clothes and other essentials into the bag, quickly trying to make a mental list as she went. Devon was reeling at how careless she had been behaving. Aside from the bare minimum, she snatched a framed photo of her father, herself, and Derrick, from her side table: the only keepsake she grabbed.

The door handle to the apartment turned. Her body tensed while she stood frozen in the middle of the room. The lock on the apartment door began to rattle; thankfully in her stupor, she had remembered to turn the bolt. Devon sprinted across the room while doing her best not to make a sound. The bathroom was the only place she could go, pulling the door shut softly behind her.

As the front door opened, and a man's voice called out: "Hello, is there anyone here? This is Constable Richards of the Victoria Police Department."

The sound of his footsteps shuffled through the clutter on the floor. After a considerable pause, she heard him call out to someone just outside the door. Devon recognized their voices; it was the two police officers from before.

There was another brief pause as his partner questioned the neighbor across the hall. "You sure you saw a young woman enter this suite?"

_Shit!_ She thought. _Stupid! I've been so stupid!_ The bathroom had one small window next to the sink, and luckily, it opened above the alleyway alongside the building. If she could climb through it, she would be able to drop herself onto the fire escape. She opened the window gently, holding her breath while she listened to the policeman poking around beyond the door. Just when she was about to step up onto the edge of the toilet, she realized he had stopped moving.

This time, she heard him address the other tenant himself. "Sir, please go back to your apartment and lock the door. Sir, I'm not going to ask you twice."

Devon could hear him walking away from the bathroom towards the front door. _Dammit_. There would be no time to make it out the window now. Devon wrapped her backpack loosely with a large towel, placing it snug behind the clawfoot tub. It blended in easily with the mess of the overturned bathroom. Everything had been removed from the large cupboard under the double sink, which allowed her ducked down into it. Contorting herself as best she could, she pulled her legs in and shut the doors. With one hand over her mouth, and every muscle compressed, she waited.

When the officer returned to the door, he called out again: "If anyone is in there, I'm coming in, and I'm armed."

As the bathroom door was kicked open, she gripped the hand over her mouth and nose tighter. A breeze from the open window rustled the shower curtain loudly, blowing the door shut behind him. She heard something bounce followed by an echo as the curtain knocked a shampoo bottled over into the tub. Just as his Footsteps moved closer to her hideout, his radio crackled into life. " _This is dispatch, come in_."

"This is Richards. There is no sign of anyone in the apartment. It was just an open window blowing the door shut. We are going to lock up and wait downstairs for her father to arrive." Satisfied with his response, dispatch responded, and Devon could hear his footsteps retreat to the living room, shutting the door behind him.

"So, what was it?" His partner asked voice muffled slightly by the door.

"Just the wind, besides the neighbor couldn't even remember us being here earlier. I think his age and memory are a bit shot," replied Richards.

"Maybe it was a ghost." Richards' partner chuckled. "You don't think it was Briggs, do you?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. That guy is relentless with trying to figure out what happened to this girl. I told him if he's not careful, I'll have to write him up."

"You're either brave or stupid. I personally wouldn't mess with that guy. Anyways let's get the hell out of here, we can wait downstairs for her father. This place gives me the creeps."

Nearly faint with relief, she listened carefully to the sounds they made, following each of their movements in her mind's eye. _Briggs? Not sure who this guy is, at least someone hasn't given up on me._

After several minutes of hearing the door lock, Devon pushed open the cupboard doors, spilling out onto the floor and taking a deep breath. The first things Devon did was grab her pack and reopen the window before scanning the alley below for more police officers. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she dropped her backpack out onto the fire escape and pulled herself through the window.

At the end of the fire escape, Devon found the ladder too rusted to be lowered down to the street. She kicked it gently a few times, trying not to make noise or draw attention; but it was no use.

Below her against the wall in the alley, whistling began. Devon wasn't as alone as she thought she was. She watched as a skinny young man with spiky black hair came wandering out from beneath her, whistling away without a care in the world.

The young man turned on his heel looking up at her. "Need some help?" he shouted.

"Quiet!" Devon shushed him.

"Quiet? You're the one banging and making all the noise up there. I was trying to chill and have a moment of peace..."

Before he finished, she tossed her backpack down to him. "Here, catch."

His arm just about missed the bag, catching it by the handle before it hit the ground. He watched Devon while she proceeded to dangle herself over the ten-foot drop. "Whoa! Hey, want some help?" Taking a few steps closer to Devon he placed himself underneath to help catch her fall.

In on swift motion, Devon landed softly in a crouch before she sprang up, turning to snatch the bag from his hand. "Thanks," she said graciously. Without any further need of assistance, she turned away and started running toward the end of the alley.

Once she reached the main street, Devon peered around the brick wall. Off to her left was a police car parked across two lanes of traffic, leaving her unsure of stepping out.

"Jesus, Devon," she said under her breath, "if being paranoid were a crime, you'd be strung up by now." How did her return home escalate into _this_? Secretly there was a thrill in evading the police that reminded her of a time long in her past. Devon would never forget sneaking out of her last group home in the dead of night, to leave the North and make her way successfully to Vancouver. Being able to determine her fate at such a young age had been exhilarating. Back then she had a destination and a goal in place. This time, she was tired and scared and was unsure of how to proceed. She could go to her father, but something in her mind urged her not to draw him into all of this before she knew it was safe. _If these people had faked my death, what would they do to him?_

"Well, I don't know about paranoia, but I know talking to yourself is a sign of insanity. Not sure if that helps?" The voice made her suddenly turn to the face of her one-time accomplice hovering just behind her. While she'd been figuring out how to get past the cops, the young man had snuck up on her.

Devon was startled. She grabbed his jacket and pushed him back, before pinning him to the wall.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

The young man laughed, smiling brightly. "What? I was curious about why you were escaping that place. You were escaping, right? Hence the hiding around a corner? I'm right, right?"

"Look, thank you for catching my bag, but you have to go." Devon let go of him and went back to looking for a chance to leave the alley.

"I'm Jesse by the way." He strutted past her, right onto the crosswalk as he viewed the area. "Ahhhh, the Po Po. So, that's who has you hiding?"

Devon grabbed him by his leather jacket and pulled him back into the alley, out of sight from the police car.

"You're a criminal, aren't you? Did you just B&E one of those apartments?" He wagged his finger at her like a lecturing teacher a few decades out of date.

Devon scoffed at his suggestion. "No, I'm not a criminal. That is my apartment up there."

"But you _are_ hiding from the Po Po, right?" His smile was almost excited now.

"Fine. Yes, I'm hiding from the police. Please, you have to go. The last thing I want is someone to be dragged into the mess I'm in."

"I've never been scared of the police myself." Jesse began to pull out and light a cigarette, showing no signs of leaving.

Concern for him was now turning into annoyance. "Ok, it's clear to me that you are not getting the message here, but I don't have time for whatever this is." She gestured back and forth between the two of them.

Abruptly, Devon grabbed the hood of her jacket, pulling it up and over as she turned away from him, making a break toward the open street. Over the traffic noise and the busy sidewalks, she could hear his laughter.

"Don't worry, you're not even my type," he called out as he started walking the opposite direction.

With a final glance back up to her apartment from under her hood, Devon knew she wouldn't be returning.

The weather was typical for this time of year; the pale grey sky loomed above with no real sign of rain. Devon's eyes were dazed while making her way along the street, her thoughts and emotions had gone numb. This numbness was probably her brain's way of coping, shutting down after the overload it had suffered. This languid state distracted her from the long walk across the city.

It didn't seem as if much time had passed before she reached Mile Zero: the tip of the island and end of the Trans-Canada Highway. The area was nothing more than a place for tourists to snap a few pretty photos from above, but for Devon this place was sacred. Just beside the benches where tourists would enjoy the view, was the rickety wooden staircase leading down to a rocky beach.

When she reached the bottom, the sound of grinding stones soothed her almost instantly, as her feet touched the pebbled beach. Devon closed her eyes, inhaling the ocean air while listening to the crashing waves. Only her father and Derrick were aware of the importance of this place, so she felt safe that no one else would find her here.

Mile Zero was Devon's home away from home, thought it took her awhile to find it after she escaped from the her foster parents up North. During her detour, a group of street workers in Vancouver had taken her in for a while. Devon kept the apartment clean, and in exchange, the girls kept her clothed and fed. After a year, the women she grew to care for began to go missing. Maven, the last of the remaining women told Devon that she was leaving the city. The last time she ever saw Maven, was when she handed Devon money and told her to leave as well. Maven had suspected that someone had been targeting the girls and was worried they might come after Devon for being associated with them. It took only a few hours, and Devon had crossed the water and arrived here at Mile Zero. The similarities of then and now were unnerving, no plan, just trying to figure out how to survive. The end of the Trans-Canada highway would always be her beginning, a place of safety and change. She wondered idly about what had become of Maven. Usually, not one to be sentimental about the past, she hoped that the woman had been wrong and that somehow made it out unharmed.

It would take her several minutes of climbing over the rocky shoreline to find the right place on the beach. As Devon kept trudging forward, she reached the second clearing where the beach was a softer mix of pebbles and sand. This area was sheltered from the wind and isolated from the Dallas Road traffic. Tourists and locals would opt out climbing over large rock faces to reach it and just above, the large bushes blocked the view from the pedestrian walkway along the bluff.

Devon sat down onto a log, roughly in the same spot as one had been years before. The original had since been washed away by the flowing tides and storms, and yet somehow, there was always one here, waiting for someone to sit and enjoy the oceans privacy. It was also where she had met Mark, the man who later on became her father.

Even now, clear as the day it happened, Devon could picture him climbing over the hill in his unzipped army surplus jacket, fighting the wind that threatened to carry his baseball cap into the sea. A red bucket in one hand, and on the other side was a large green thermos tucked under his arm. Everything about his clean-cut image told her that he was someone comfortable with authority. Especially the fire department logo on his chest, worn proudly like a superhero emblem, and the radio strapped to his belt. She had been sitting on the log in just this very spot, shivering with cold and hunger, trying to warm herself with a small fire.

Not something she would admit until later, but he scared her then. From a distance, Devon couldn't tell if he was an off-duty cop or someone who would report her to the police without hesitation. As an underage girl and runaway. She knew the outcome it would bring. The idea of returning to foster care wasn't an option, not after all she had been through to keep her freedom.

_As his feet landed against the beach perimeter, Devon had already started randomly grabbing her few possessions in a panic._ Whatever items she missed would be left there if she had to bolt up and over the rock face behind her.

"Whoa, wait up kid! I come in peace. I even brought food." Mark smiled as he lowered the red bucket onto the rocks, taking the thermos out from under his arm as an offering. Devon remembered how respectful his distance was. In order not to scare her any further, he kept his distance - by sitting on the opposite side of the small makeshift fire but close enough to lean to hover the thermos within her grasp. The night before was the last time she had eaten, and the sight of the thermos made her stomach growl despite her hesitation. Mark shook the thermos with a chuckle, promising her that it wasn't poisoned.

As she ate, he radioed to the station to tell them he had the fire under control and began to explain to her that he was a fireman. Anyone could have put on a cap and shirt while claiming to be one, but there was something in his kindness that led Devon to believe him. She had become a good judge of character in her short life, and he didn't seem to be the lying type.

He went on to explain that someone had reported seeing small wisps of smoke, which is why he came down. It wasn't exactly procedure to have him deal with it alone, but living only a few blocks away, Mark made this his routine for dealing with campfires. Back then, whenever the fire chief received a call about a minor beach fire off that point, Mark would be asked go down and extinguish it rather than trouble the police.

"Just a head's up, daytime beach fires are never a good idea," he'd explained, sitting down across from her on the rocks."This spot is great for night fires, and they usually aren't visible to the residents when it's sheltered like this." Plus, the cops don't like climbing around the water at night."

Devon picked up what he was suggesting to her. Still, she was surprised by his advice.

After a pause he added, "Not that I recommend fires in the first place, being that they're dangerous. I'm just saying that in case people find themselves without any real shelter, the nights here get pretty cold and damp. This time of year can be especially risky."

Everything about Mark seemed unusual for her. It was rare to find an adult, especially someone of authority, who didn't automatically lay judgment on her. The soup he'd brought was a bit watery, but she had gulped it down. The warmth made her grateful for the little sustenance and his laid-back nature.

Devon tried her best to tell him she was eighteen, even though she knew he wasn't buying it. After talking for a while in tentative circles, they slowly came to the topic of why she was there. She'd already failed at lying once, and something urged her to tell him the truth.

"Look, I'll level with you. I'm not one of those kids who ran away because they didn't get their allowance, or because they got slapped with a curfew, or something equally as stupid," she had explained. "My parents aren't out there somewhere worrying about me, and I have no home to return to." With a sympathetic ear, Mark listened.

"Seriously, they don't exist," she said. "The only moment my foster parents would've noticed is when they needed me to get their check from the government so they can get their drink on. I can take of myself."

He took her story at face value without argument. "The way you talk, kid, I could almost believe you're eighteen," he said. "Sounds like you've had the shit end of the stick."

This colorful expression made her laugh as she tried to hide it. "The way you talk is a little bit crass for a uniform," she answered.

"You're too young to be using words like crass, kid. A bit of a bookworm, eh?"

They looked at each other for a moment, before Mark broke out into a roaring laughter, followed by Devon. After that, Mark had helped her dispose of the fire and invited her to crash on his couch until she found a comfortable shelter. Mark was the first male adult Devon ever trusted. Devon expected to be there for a few days, which turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. It was on her birthday the following year that Mark asked Devon if she would be okay with him adopting her. _That moment was one of the happiest moments of her life..._

"That must be one great memory." A girl stood politely in front of her next to a pile of driftwood logs.

Devon glanced up; her thoughts were interrupted by the unexpected observer. She looked to be around seventeen, wearing a long bohemian skirt with jeans underneath, tucked into her boots. Atop her head was a cascade of blond dreadlocks held up with a gold and purple scarf high up over her thick wool layers. A few other harmless-looking hippie kids were now climbing down over the rock face to accompany her.

The girl who had spoken, embarrassedly smiled. "Sorry to startle you," she said. "Is this beach spot yours for the night, or could we set up camp here with you?"

She paused while the rest of the group piled in behind her, giving Devon a moment to think. "You looked like you were having a beautiful moment, I didn't want to interrupt," she added. "My name's Harvest." Her smile grew larger in her excitement as she extended her hand. "I always get into the same distracted space when I'm having a good memory, too. Whatever it was, it had amazing energy."

Devon felt embarrassed and could feel her cheeks blush. What a space cadet she would have looked like, sitting there on a log smiling wistfully to herself. Not even aware enough to have heard a whole group of kids approaching. There was no judgment on their end, and these were the last people to mind. Devon shrugged breaking a smile. "Sure, why not? It's a free beach."

"Free beach!" one of the boys in the group whooped. "Yeah, man. This chick knows the truth; the beach is free." He stooped closer to grasp a fistful of wet pebbles from a spot near his feet. "No one should own nature," he declared solemnly.

Devon laughed, amazed at how some things never changed in this city. No matter what happened a new generation of beach kids would come. Both Mark and she would venture down together, bringing food and blankets to other kids in the cold weather. Some nights Devon would stay with them, spending time on this beach and sleeping under the stars in the company of great people. Kids like these had been some of her first real friends on the island.

"You're lucky we came along," one of them said, tossing down an extra blanket. "You wouldn't have lasted the night out here, once the sun sets."

Harvest looked toward Devon with a dreamy smile. "The universe always gives you what you need," she said. It couldn't be denied; it felt as if something put these people in her path. The sky behind the girl's head was lit in vivid pinks and oranges as the sun began to slip out of view, sinking over the hillside.

Devon spent the next few hours getting acquainted with her new companions as they erected a makeshift fort from wooden logs and branches, before talking well into the night. There was something about Harvest that captivated Devon; a level of courage that reminded Devon of her own. With an attentive ear, she learned that Harvest had come from a small town in Ontario and had bravely started her pilgrimage across Canada to find herself. With her thumb and a small pack, she hitchhiked her way across the country, making new friends to share her journey along the way. Planned or unplanned, just as it had been for Devon, Mile Zero was Harvest's last stop in the hope of starting a new life on the Island.

Although she didn't have much of an opportunity to sleep, Devon was glad to have a distraction from her worries. Harvest's company and the warm fire was just what she needed. The stars shone brightly, illuminating the beach as the sound of the crashing waves lulled the others into their slumber. Each member of the crew now huddled beneath their shared blankets, using each other's body heat to stay warm. Devon stared up at the stars between the gaps in the log shelter as she sent her thoughts to them. _Please let Mark be alright, and please let me find a way to explain all of this so I can go home_.

Home, was that even possible anymore? Devon attempted to go home earlier that day, which is how she wound up here at the beach, riddled with more questions than answers. It wouldn't be the first choice, but she needed to find out who these people in Sooke were, and what they wanted her for. That had to be the best place to start. Her fear now was that they might choose to pursue her father as a means of getting to her. Devon owed it to Mark to protect him from whatever mess she'd gotten into this time.

As the sky began to lighten and morning came, she slipped away from the huddle of slumbering teens without saying goodbye. Devon carefully draped her blanket over the snoring pile of kids and made her way back up to Dallas Road. At a cafe by the breakwater, she performed a makeshift shower with the bathroom sink and tidied herself. After fixing her makeup from the kit in her pack, Devon spent the last of her money on breakfast for herself and the beach crew.

When Devon returned, she found them all awake. They were already shaking the sand out of their blankets and folding up their belongings. Harvest graciously accepted the offering of food and divided it up equally amongst the group. It really was the least she could do for them as a gesture of thanks. She didn't want to entertain what a night alone with her thoughts would have been like. Everyone appreciated it more than she had expected, tackling her in a clumsy group hug when she announced her final departure.

"I really wish you could hang out with us longer." Harvest reached her arm out to help Devon from the dog-pile.

"Thanks for the offer, but there is a lot I have to figure out, and I won't find the answers here." Devon stood up smiling at Harvest.

"Well if you're ever in a dark spot, remember that you have your happy thought to keep you smiling."

"Thank you Harvest; I won't forget it." Devon hugged the girl tightly and turned away before tears could start forming in her eyes. There was something about her energy that comforted Devon and reminded her of her past, but it was the right thing to separate from this group; the answers were not here.

Out into the city, she pushed onward, past the staircase and across the park. To solve the mysteries that had kept her awake, Devon knew she would have to start at the beginning.

It was quiet on the street as she waved a bus on, as she idled at the stop outside of Derricks condominium. It took about twenty minutes and several buses passing the stop before a tenant came along and opened the main door into the lobby. Devon recognized Derrick's next door neighbor, as the old woman came shuffling down the sidewalk with her walker. _Perfect_.

Finally reaching the building, the old lady fumbled with the door as she tried to open it wide enough with one hand while maneuvering her walker through with the other.

"Here let me help you." Devon stepped forward, graciously offering to hold it open as she casually pretended at being a tenant herself.

Once inside the lobby, the old lady squinted, looking her over before heading to the mailboxes. Suspicious, the woman kept her eyes on Devon. "You look very familiar. Did you just move in?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's right. Almost a month ago," Devon answered cheerfully while shuffling a few unclaimed letters into her hand. "We've seen each other in passing, but I don't think we've gotten to say hello yet." She made sure to jingle her keys as she scanned the front of an envelope addressed to one Jane Wilkins.

The old woman had no interest in exchanging names with Devon. Why would she, since this was the most they've ever talked. Instead, she accepted Devon's story and wished her a good day. Head nodding with palsy; the old woman muttered as she made her way into the elevator as another man exited.

Devon would have to hold here for a few minutes, before pressing the button for the next elevator. Speed was not the woman's forte, and Devon needed to give the old gal enough time to leave the elevator and get to her suite; clearing the hallway before Devon went up.

There was just the right amount of time between the old woman's departure and the new doorman returning from his rounds. As he caught sight of her, Devon gestured to the handful of mail with a smile. "More bills," she shrugged. He smiled back in commiseration, entirely unconcerned as he watched the elevator doors close.

On the sixth floor, two levels below Derricks suite is where Devon stopped the elevator. Just in case the old woman decided to be extra slow, she decided to finish the next two floors via the stairwell that exited beside Derricks door.

Inside the hallway of the eighth floor, Devon covered her mouth in shock at the large brown stain that spread out across the corridor. Someone, probably the police, had cut away the carpet as evidence and exposed the underfloor. Placing her hand on the bare surface as she knelt, Devon was taken aback at how far the damage extended.

"Oh Jackson, I'm so sorry," she whispered, trying her best to stifle her unresolved guilt. In all of the chaos, she had barely thought about the security guard since that terrible night. Devon winced at the memory of his horrific screams now flooding her thoughts. Jackson was a good man and never deserved such an end. If she hadn't asked for his help, he would still be alive, safe with his family.

Devon couldn't remain in the hall like this, crouched over a bloody stain, reliving its origin. It had always annoyed her that Derrick had never gotten around to having a spare key cut for the building's entrance. If she had that key, she wouldn't have needed Jackson's help in the first place. _Being able to assign blame was natural, not that it would change the past, or bring anyone back._ The key, now in her hand, was given to Devon for emergencies, and this was no exception.

Finally the knob turned, and Devon opened the door to the scene of her life's undoing. Each image flashed in front of her, reliving it all in vivid detail— the feeling the weight of Derrick's body in her arms, the smell of the blood that had covered them both, and the frigid chill in the air. A few steps in, she was standing over the dark spot where his life was extinguished. Her lover's final words echoed deep in her mind: " _It's still here._ "

In the air, the musky scent of the beast that had terrorized her returned with intensity, as though it were still here, even now. Across the room, a breeze drifted in from the shattered door. The creature's size and ferocity left her wondering how anyone could have survived. How was it that she was still here while the others were dead?

Following her memories through the room while in a fog, she was drawn towards the breeze of the balcony. Near the empty frame of the sliding door, a stray piece of safety glass crunched softly beneath her shoe. Just like her own home, Derrick's condo had been turned inside out by the police. Just like the hallway, large portions of the hardwood floor had been uprooted, as well as most of the furniture and items nearest the spot where Derrick had died. Although her purse had been amongst those missing, Devon wasn't concerned. She knew something about this place that no one else did.

From what she could see, the vent on the bathroom ceiling was still untouched. One foot at a time, she climbed onto the toilet seat, pulling the vent's cover away with a shower of pale dust. Mentally Devon had to psych herself up before reaching her hand deep into the dark air shaft. On the tips of her toes, her nails were just able to reach the canvas bag Derrick had stashed inside months ago.

Returning to the floor, she placed the bag on the counter and began to unzip it. First out, she pulled several bundles of crisp bills, then a few energy bars, followed by an object wrapped in one of his old shirts. Hidden beneath the money and poorly camouflaged in his "spare outfit" was an old revolver Derrick claimed to have inherited from his father. As she unwrapped it, she could see that safety was switched off, and to her surprise, the gun was fully loaded. Using her thumb, Devon turned the safety back on before reaching in and grabbed the box of spare bullets; all of which she tossed into her backpack. Her eyes looked up toward the ceiling, giving a little prayer of thanks for Derrick's strange paranoia.

The presence of the gun now changed Devon's playing field and brought forth thoughts of revenge. A swell of anger suddenly rose up from the pit of her stomach as she stood looking at herself in the mirror. Devon turned the faucet on, splashing cold water on her face in the hopes to calm her temperament. From her past mental scars, came visions of things that may have been done to her at the house, things she still had no memory of and didn't understand. _Did they drug me? How did they remove my tattoos without any sign of scarring? What did they want with me? Worst of all, how were they connected to Derrick's death and the beast that had delivered it? And what the hell is with this gold bracelet?!_

Devon's mind clamoured with questions as her fist clenched tight, staring at the bracelet snug against her wrist. Despite the chill of the water still beading on her skin, she felt an intense heat spreading through her body. Her right hand riddled with spasms, flew open, shaking violently, as bursts of arthritic-like pain shot along her joints and wrist. It has been a decade since this level of anger and desperation filled her, something she hadn't experienced since her early teens. Neither able to bear the ache in her limbs nor the rage building up inside, she punched the mirror impulsively with all of her strength. Devon's reflection splintered outward with a massive crunch, leaving a shallow crater into the wall behind it.

Everything went still with shock. _What have I done?_ Devon's fury instantly subsided at the sight of her hand buried in the wall. It took a firm tug to free it from the shattered glass. She winced, expecting her knuckles to be a bloody mess. The pain mustn't have registered yet; she was worried her hand might be broken or worse.

Cautiously, she pulled back her arm and released her fingers from their clenched position. Somehow just as it was at the river, there was no blood or torn flesh, only a dusting of powdered glass shimmering over her skin. Each of her fingers wiggled and flexed, as she looked at them in wonder. With a shake, the tiny mirror shards fell into the sink, before she rinsed her hand beneath the running water. Satisfied that there was no damage, she turned the tap off and looked closer at the mirror on the wall.

Staring across into the fragmented reflection, her mind cleared. She knew exactly where her next destination would take her. It was time to bring this chaos and uncertainty to a close. With her hand, she pulled the backpack off the counter, reaching in to reposition the gun along the side. Devon would have to hitchhike to get there, yet she was confident she could find the house if she crossed Jenn's property and followed the river upstream.

Just as she reached the living room, Devon discovered with outrage that she was no longer alone. Standing in front of the spot where Jackson had been killed, with his back up against the closed door was Rowland. He didn't move or speak, he just stood there waiting, blocking her only means of escape. Devon dropped her bag, drawing the gun without a second thought as she switched the safety off. Her aim set, the barrel was now pointed directly at his head.

For most people, she would expect some level of fear or panic. Instead, Rowland responded to her threat with an enigmatic smile. "You aren't going to need that," he said.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll just keep this pointed at your face," she replied sarcastically. "Seeing as you did kidnap me, oh yeah; and the eleven days of memories that are missing."

Unconcerned with the gun, he stepped calmly toward her away from the door forcing Devon to walk backwards away from him.

"That is far enough!" Devon shouted.

Rowland stopped, picking up one of the remaining chairs and placing it between the door and Devon before sitting in it. "Will you please keep your voice down, there's no need to shout." All the while, his eyes were fixated on hers and not the revolver.

Somehow, each of his words felt patronizing; as if the gun was some toy prop. His confidence and bearing made Devon begin to have sudden doubts. This new uncertainty still wasn't enough to convince her against keeping the gun drawn at his head. "You've saved me some time," she said. "I was just coming to find you. You owe me a lot of answers."

Rowland leaned forward in the chair with an air of polite interest. His fingertips were pressed together against his chin as he took in a deep breath. "Then ask."

The fact that Rowland seemed genuinely untroubled by the weapon was unnerving and suspicious. Devon hated that she couldn't get a read on this man. A gift she relied so heavily on in her life was always being able to gauge people. Being thrown off by the lack of Rowland's resistance for answers, her mind wavered over which one of the many questions to ask first. At random, she fixed on one. "How did you find me?"

Rowland nodded towards Devon's hand, braced around the butt of the gun. "The bracelet. That's how I found you. Honestly, I had assumed this is where you would come first, after your apartment."

She glanced at the bauble, instantly shifting her eyes back to him. She wasn't about to let him out of her sight. "What is it, some kind of GPS?"

He smiled with amusement. "I suppose it is, but not quite in the way you would understand it."

"Fine, then who the hell are you?" she demanded. "Are you all in some cult going around kidnapping girls? Oh my god, are you the Goldstream killer?" Her hand began to tremble from her now growing fear.

His expression turned grave. "No, we are not a cult. We did not kidnap you, and frankly, I'm insulted that you could even think that."

"What the hell else would I think?" Her voice began to rise with anxiety.

"Devon, we saved you."

"You saved _me_? I think I'm gonna need a bit more clarification than that," she said.

With a small sigh, Rowland leaned back into the chair. "We had to take you in," he explained. "To decide on what was to become of you and to protect you from others."

Devon was caught at a loss. "What was to _become_ of me?"

He stood up gracefully, adjusting his jacket. "No one like you has been created before. We didn't know how you would end up or if you would be a danger to anyone else."

Devon pulled back the hammer on the revolver to reestablish her seriousness with the weapon "Look; I'm tired of this. I didn't kill my boyfriend, all right? You can tell that to your secret vigilante group. There was... I don't know, some rabid animal in here. That's what did it." Devon was unsure why she even needed to defend herself in the first place.

Rowland looked to the ground. "That was not meant to happen," he spoke softly, his voice filled with regret.

The implication of his words sunk in and she went completely white. "What do you mean that wasn't _meant_ to happen?" she whispered, barely able to take a breath. Still holding the gun pointed at his head, she stepped closer. "Wasn't meant to happen?" she repeated. "What do you know about what happened?" Her voice was rising further, her eyes locked on his face. "Were you here? Was that your fucked-up pet or something, is that it?"

For the first time, she sensed discomfort in Rowland. Looking into his eyes, Devon knew she'd hit on something crucial. She breathed in deeply through her nose, preparing herself to do whatever was necessary. Around her, the lingering scent of animal musk teased, only this time it was stronger than before. The same smell that had blended with the pungent tang of Derrick's blood, the one that had come to her through the perfume of the forest pines...

" _You_....." She stepped away from him with the realization and horror finally dawning on her.

Rowland's brow creased in a look of profound sadness that seemed to span lifetimes. "This is not how it was meant to be." With no further explanation, he raised his hand. Devon could see that he wore a bracelet like hers, only larger and heavier. Beneath it, his wrist was encased in an ornate sleeve, fashioned from the same shining metal. Rowland's jaw was tense, every tendon in his neck defined as he focused all of his attention on his upraised arm.

Fascinated and terrified, she stared at his hand while it contorted from a fist into a tortured grasp, every finger rigidly stretched back. A long exhalation escaped Rowland's lips as the flesh began to tear, splitting open in deep fissures across the skin. Black claws broke through his fingertips, curved and vicious looking. As large pieces of Rowland's skin slid down to his elbow, breaking off along the edge of the metal cuff. They fell wetly onto the bare floor.

Devon's mind refused to trust what she was seeing. Her arms shaking caused the gun to lower slightly. Rowland stood resolute, displaying the black fur-covered paw that emerged from his wrist, as he pulled the last bit of broken flesh away with his other hand.

"I'm afraid that things are much more complicated than what your mind has created," he said.

She tried to raise the gun, but her trembling limbs were unwilling to meet the challenge. "What the hell are you?" she breathed.

"I think the question you need to ask yourself, Devon... is what, exactly, are _you_?"

Chapter Five

ELEVEN DAYS OF MISSING

DECEMBER 20th, 2010

Rowland's senses were stunned from impacting the glass window; he pressed his paw against the floor to brace himself. In this unsteady stupor, he felt his head throbbing as blood trickled down the fur of his brow, splashing onto the floor. With trembling legs, he pulled himself up from the floor of Derrick's apartment. Rowland pulled at the door handle to find no movement; the first impact had bent the door frame. This distortion was short-lived; his head began to clear while he stepped back away from the glass. Rowland's jaw was salivating over with bloodlust and rage, his shoulders rolled forward, dropping his body down to hunch on all fours. A moment was all he could afford; the girl had seen too much and could not be allowed to escape.

With his first impact, Rowland had fractured the glass, leaving it too weak to withstand another blow. Each claw clenched, embedding themselves into the carpet as he prepared to strike. He used this grip as leverage to throw his body forward, charging the door.

Glass crystals rained and scattered as he burst his way through. Rowland protected by his thick pelt barely noticed the frigid air enveloping him. With no sign of Devon, he leaped for the balcony edge, swinging his bulk gracefully over the railing with one powerful claw.

All of his senses absorbed more than any human could. Even before he landed, Rowland knew she was there. His lips curled back, as he bared his fangs, the sharp taste of blood still lingered on his tongue. This was not his first choice but knew what had to be done; it was his duty as the leader to clean up this mess. There could be no witnesses left here tonight.

His claws clicked against the concrete, as he crawled towards her. In the corner like a dense shadow, he found her shivering form. Rowland's hand raised, ready to strike as Devon's scent whirled around him. His claws pulled back at the knuckles, Rowland's snout waved back and forth, sniffing in disbelief. Both of his eyes glowed with a fierce luminescence as he took in a sight he could not have imagined. Bemused by what his senses were telling him, Rowland began to assess quickly what his next move would be. As long as the moon was still high above, there would be no help to call upon this night. Each of his thoughts trying to get one step ahead of the other.

Drinking in her scent once more, his predatory need to clean up his mess was now transformed to one of protection. Rowland crouched down to shelter her, fearful the human world might somehow see her. Despite the impossibility of it, his bite had preceded him. The gift intended for Derrick somehow transformed Devon instead; the girl who'd been the focus of his now dwindling rage. The newly birthed body was lifeless, lying in a pool of torn flesh. Devon's beautiful pale skin had been replaced by a pelt of black fur, covered in a layer of dark blood and mucus reflecting off the rays of the moon.

Far in the distance, a single police siren howled across the night; an electric banshee of this modern age. As the wailing grew closer, Rowland's instincts urged him to escape. _They are coming_. He gathered the young wolf gently in his arms as the last few patches of torn flesh slid off, sloshing onto the patio floor. A quick glance over the railing confirmed that the police were not yet in sight. Fighting against the slickness of the blood covered fur, he gripped the young wolf tightly to his chest. Rowland vaulted himself over the seventh-floor balcony, toward the street below. Cold wind bit deep into his fur as he landed in an area of large bushes surrounding a small patch of garden. Inside their cover he held Devon, waiting for a passing car to drive out of sight. Using his keen hearing and vision, Rowland was satisfied that no one else was in view. He moved from the bushes and sprinted across the intersection, vanishing deep into the park.

Beacon Hill Park is a large patch of nature in the heart of downtown Victoria, named for the two beacons of light that would guide and protect sailors on the dark sea. Its western lighthouse had a triangle of blue light and the other a square of green. When ships could see the square through the triangle, they had sailed into the Brotchie Ledge. A warning which meant trouble for all; especially on stormy nights such as this.

For three-quarters of the year, during the daylight hours, there would be too many people to conceal Rowland's escape. Twilight in winter, on the other hand, meant that the city parks and dark alleyways were entirely vacant of human life. No rowdy kids drinking booze and having fun, no couples holding hands sneaking a kiss on the bridge; just the nocturnal creatures who called this place home. These days, people's avoidance to the park was not only the cold, but it also included the Goldstream killer. This name was created out of fear by a city recently plagued by a string of missing women and unsolved murders. History had shown Rowland that people became vigilant and restless in such peril, desperate to find anything to bear the brunt of their fears.

Both regret and uncertainty were eating at him. Not just about the mess he left behind, but for the consequences it could bring forth. Making his way along the stone bridge, Rowland blended in as if he was just another shadow cast from the lights in the pond. He knew that this night would only reinforce the city's rising sense of unease, and the need for caution would be higher than ever. The worst thing for the family would be getting caught with this newborn trembling in his grip, anything strange and unexpected usually meant bad tidings for beasts and men. He kept his heightened senses alert, sniffing and listening for any sign of people close by.

Within reach of the tree line, Rowland dashed across a baseball field and into the bushes. For a while he squatted, waiting in the dense brush with his burden. In his wolf form, his sensitive ears could pick up the scurrying of rodents and the hoot of an owl from across the park. Rowland cringed as several ambulances roared past, tearing the air with a barrage of light and noise. The Police must have arrived at the condo and found the bodies. As they rounded the corner it gave him just what he needed: a split second to bolt across the road and clear the railings that bordered the cliffs of Mile Zero.

At the edge of the bluff, Rowland pushed off with his powerful hind legs. He bounded from the rocks, plunging himself and Devon into the churning ocean far below. If they had been regular humans, these dark waters were cold enough that hypothermia would have set in within minutes. Like wolves, they remained unscathed, as the freezing surf washed away all the remaining traces of blood and filth.

Rowland's transformation back into his human form was taking place. Pieces of his animal hide were swept away by the rough waters as he shifted, dissolving within the waves. Devon's change would hold longer; still unconscious, he kept her close in his arms as he battled his way back to shore. Rowland felt strength from the eclipse; the raging winds whirled in his ears as he swam against the pull of the tide. Upon the shoreline, he placed Devon's body gently along the pebbled beach. For a long while, he remained standing in the moonlight, collecting himself after the evening's disastrous events. It had been several lifetimes since Rowland's path had seemed this uncertain.

"Damn you!" He cursed at Devon, his words carrying across the growing storm.

Even in his human form, the pungent odor of wet fur emanating from her was unmistakable. Usually a comforting scent, at this moment it only served as proof that the Gods were playing some cruel joke at his expense. With a firm grasp, he rolled Devon onto her side, and for the first time since the scene of chaos Rowland was able to examine the new wolf. A break in the clouds made the fur gleam wetly in the silver moonlight; its sheen was as black as the ocean behind and the night sky above. His expression was one of bewilderment as he regarded his accidental creation. Devon's body lay there sleeping, oblivious to its own implications.

Time was short, and Rowland knew it. Soon the police would begin searching the surrounding area for suspects and witnesses. Hoisting Devon over his shoulder, he draped the wolf across the back of his neck, steadying it with his hand as he made his way along the beach. The cliff-side walkway above would be too risky. It was imperative that he make his way to the safe house unnoticed. How would he explain himself? Walking naked in the street while carrying an unconscious wolf. Rowland wanted to avoid any _more_ unnecessary deaths; the night watchman he dispatched back at the condo was already one too many. _It wasn't supposed to happen this way_ , he thought, _why have I been forsaken_?

Over several rock faces, he came to another set of stairs that would lead him back to street level. Rowland's breath was frosting as he sniffed at the air, making sure there was no sign of people nearby.

All was quiet on the street. There were no cars, and the only sound he could hear was the constant crashing of the waves below. Keeping to the trees as far as he could, he always stayed alert to his surroundings.

Finally reaching the right block, he dashed across the road, wet feet slapping against the pavement as he approached an ordinary looking old house with darkened windows. Rowland had finally reached his sanctuary.

With one last look around the street to make sure no one was watching, he crept onto the lot along the side of the building, pushing open a hidden gate in the high fence. Everything about the exterior and yard was overgrown and seemingly long-abandoned. Shifting the weight of Devon still slung over his shoulder, he crouched down to pull on a pair of wooden cellar doors. They were half covered by English ivy growing rampant over the crumbling stucco. Flakes of dry paint fluttered to the ground as the vines broke; pulling it open. Inside these doors were a set of steep cement stairs leading down into the basement, past the reach of the full moon.

Taking care, he descended into the bowels of the house, closing the cellar doors above him. Despite the near complete darkness, his preternatural eyesight allowed him to make out enough that he wasn't worried about tripping or missing a step. A second door greeted him as he reached the end of the staircase. Unlike the previous, this one was made of thick metal, sporting a modern push button lock. Soft electronic beeps echoed in the stillness, followed by a loud click, as the door unlatched and eased slightly open. Carefully lowering Devon from his shoulder, he slid the wolf back into his arms as he crossed.

Down a short hallway, Rowland stood in front of another door; slightly open. Reminiscent of a vault safe, it was a solid pristine wall of steel. His foot pulled at the edge of it, and with one swift movement, he swung the door open, exposing the massive frame and full thickness of the steel. Though the outer face was smooth and clean, the inner side was rough, scored deeply with gouges and scratch marks. Unlike a vault safe, which was intended to keep people out, this was apparently used to keep someone or something inside.

From floor to ceiling this pattern of damage continued. Jagged crevices traveled across thick metal panels that made up the windowless walls. There were no fixtures, nor furniture. The glare of fluorescent lights protected behind metal cages cast a sickly glow over the space. Ceramic white tile on the floor was interrupted only by a metal grate on the far side, welded down. Above the drain was a large shower head embedded into the ceiling, and in the upper right corner, a security camera buzzed away behind a mirrored dome. The faint smell of bleach only added to the effect; this room could have been something straight out of a horror film.

Just below the ceiling across from the doorway, there was an indent in the form of a handle. When Rowland gave it a push, he heard a loud click before the wall began to open. From inside, a bed slowly folded out, easing its way down to the floor. The grey mattress inside was as sterile as its surroundings; sealed over in a layer of thick clear plastic. Gently, he put Devon's body down across the bed. Deep in slumber, there wasn't even a flicker of consciousness as Rowland turned to leave. Before making his way upstairs, he pushed the steel door with a heavy clang. Not one for taking chances, Rowland spun the lock's wheel, satisfied only when he heard its teeth bite deep into the wall.

To the right of the sealed door was a flight of stairs leading up into the house. Within the closet of the central office, he picked through an assortment of black track pants, T-shirts, and hooded sweaters. Items they kept well stocked; this house was used in case someone was not able to make it back to the main house during a full moon. The need to transform was equal to the need for public safety; achieving both would keep the family hidden. After a quick shower to wash away the ocean scent, Rowland pulled the plainclothes on before heading to the office.

A cloud of dust flooded the air as he removed the sheet that covered over the desk in the middle of the room. There was no way to put off making the call he was dreading since he got here. Like the rest of the house, the office was relatively small, sparsely furnished with only a few modest bookshelves along one wall. In the center of the room was an antique desk, hosting a large computer screen. Compared to the simple surroundings the desk stood out; the strong, polished oak surface, had brass ornate detailing that seemed almost lavish in comparison. With an exhausted sigh of frustration, he sat down, covering his face with both hands.

"How am I supposed to fix this?" Rowland spoke to the air around him, as he pressed at the keyboard, waking the computer from its sleep. Instantly he was presented with a view from the downstairs security camera. Devon was in the same position Rowland had left her, with no sign of even the slightest shift. Lost and confused, he shook his head at the screen. _What am I supposed to do with you now?_

To the right of the monitor, Rowland quickly reached for the phone, calling the main house. Just as he was expecting, the answering machine picked up; followed by one solitary beep. His voice echoed loudly, breaking the silence of the room. "It's Rowland. I'm at the safe house...there has been a situation. Not everyone is required to come, just Keryn, Smith, and the Twins. It goes without saying, bring the Druid as well, his council will be needed. Whoever gets this message, tell the twins to bring a large number of sedatives with them."

With a loud thud, the phone was back in its cradle. Rowland's palms braced the desk while he rolled his fingers several times over the oak surface before standing up. After muttering to himself and pacing the room, he finally came to rest before the large window; just off the front of the house. Looking out at the moon as it bathed the ocean in its ghostly glow, he silently implored it to shed some of its light on his path. It would be a few more hours before anyone at the house answered his message, he turned and looked closely at the monitor. _I hope you stay sleeping until then, whatever you may be._

__

Across the ocean towards Port Angeles, the snowcapped mountains lined the horizon like a scenic postcard. While warm rays of sunshine pressed down against the house, making the day seem bright and full of promise. The SUV was parked out front of the safe house; walking the short distance between it and the front porch, Keryn found it was hard to imagine anything disturbing this peaceful setting. Still, she was anxious and curious about why she was included in this meeting. Anything involving the druid surely was not good news. It had been years since she had been here, and awhile since anyone had used the safe house. If it had been dark out, they would have quietly slipped around back and entered that way, yet in the light of day, there was too much risk that someone was watching. They had to maintain the cover that this was just a normal if somewhat derelict home. Keryn glanced at the large bag one of the Twins was holding and found herself wondering about why the sedatives were necessary. Everything about this was strange and unusual. Rowland had gone over so many different possibilities preparing for last night. What could have gone wrong to give such tension to his voice in the message?

Rowland had apparently been waiting for them, as he opened the door wide at their approach. The grave expression on his face matched the waves of energy coming off of him, and yet for the pretense of anyone who may be walking by, he forced a smile in a welcoming manner for his guests. His behavior was not that of her Alpha, which only added to her anxiety. In all of her life, panic and fear were two things Keryn had never witnessed in Rowland.

Glancing over to the Druid, who was standing just behind to her right, she tried to gauge his reaction. If anyone knew Rowland well enough to interpret the feelings he was projecting to his pack; it was him. Amongst the group, the Druid was the only one whose appearance gave any hint of age. His greying hair grew past his waist, elaborately braided into his beard. Anyone would find it hard not to be mystified by his profound stare. Frustrated, Keryn received no sign from him: he was as unreadable now as always.

Both of the twins, Eddie, and David seemed unable to decide from whom to take their cue. Their dark hair and lightly freckled faces remained curious and open, as they looked from Rowland to the Druid and back again, almost in unison.

Behind them all, the Smith towered over the group with his arms crossed, his shadow blotting out most of the morning sun. Everyone was also on edge from dealing with his frustration: leaving the house to travel into the city was not something he preferred. Finally, he released his misgivings from behind them all in a massive wave. "Are you going to ask us in?" he asked, his voice like the scraping of iron on a whetstone. "Or will you just have us stand out here like a clan of fools?"

No one else amongst the family would chance to speak this way to Rowland. Only direct and truthful words came from the Druid, which might sound as harsh was he as prone to sarcasm as Smith. Either way, his remark failed to raise even an eyebrow as their leader simply turned, making his way down the hall and leaving the door ajar for them to follow. Keryn led, taking the arm of the Druid, while the rest of the group filed through the door behind.

Passing the threshold, Eddie nudged his brother, curious to know what was happening. In the silent communion of twins, David didn't even need to look him in the eye, only giving a lost and nervous head shake. Smith was keeping pace at the rear of the column, his shoulders nearly filling the tiny hall as they all pressed forward to the office.

Most of the room was the same as when Rowland entered last night, except a few sections of the wall had been removed and stacked beside the door. Where the panels once hung; now exposed an expansive wall of security monitors. Several of them displayed the surroundings of the house, while the largest showed the safe room downstairs. The office had been specially constructed that if any humans happened to break in when no one was around, it would merely appear to be a boring old office. Camouflage provided high-tech security, while the cameras, keypads, and alarm systems served the same goal.

Eddie finally broke ahead of the group as the hallway widened. Clumsily he pushed his brother out of the way and knocked him into Keryn as he passed ahead through the doors. David caught her eye with a half of a smile, embarrassed on his brother's behalf. How could they expect him to be anyone but Eddie, even at a time like this?

The Druid, unburdened by the collision, calmly took a chair in the corner closer to the desk. Smith stood beside him protectively, arms re-crossed, waiting for an explanation.

"I..." Rowland looked around the room, stricken by a loss of words.

Eddie had been studying the main monitor closely since they entered, his back to the room. With a confused look, he turned, "So, what's the problem, chief?" He addressed Rowland, before returning his focus back to the screen. "Everything looks fine with Derrick from here. Sleep? Check. Wolf? Check. It's normal for him to be still in the change, so no worries there. Why'd you want us to bring all these sedatives?"

Rowland sat on the front edge of the desk with his arms crossed, staring hard at the monitor. "Yes, it would be very normal," he answered softly. "Sometimes it can even take a week to come out of the change."

"And??" Eddie was impatiently coaxing his Alpha.

Rowland pinched his brow as if it pained him to speak the words. "The problem.... is that this is _not_ Derrick."

A shocked silence filled the room. The realization dawned across everyone's face, each one looking to the monitor in confusion as though hoping to find some way of identifying this new, unfamiliar wolf on the screen.

"Is it safe??" Smith's hand reached swiftly to the handle of the knife at his belt, uneasy with the thought of an unknown threat in the house.

"It's uncertain at this time, but I believe it will be." Rowland's response was as diplomatic as he could muster.

"Well then, who is it?" Keryn finally asked, her soft voice filled with concern. "What happened to Derrick?"

Rowland ran his hands through his thick black hair, a weariness of unfathomable years settling into his face. "Derrick is no longer with us. He died during last night's moon. What you see in front of you on the monitor is his... girlfriend."

"No!" Keryn exclaimed, clapping her hand over her mouth in shock, as her face grew pale. She moved closer to join Eddie and his brother in front of the screen.

Something else Keryn now witnessed, as she looked back to her leader. For a first-time, tears welled inside Rowland's eyes.

"She interrupted the two of us just after Derrick had received the bite."

David, adjusted his glasses with amazement, blurting out, "But, she has a....."

"Yes," Rowland abruptly cut him off. "I know." His voice pressed the state of their loss.

David went on, undeterred. "But....no, she has a...."

Rowland sat up straighter, leaning forward from the desk with all his enormity. "David, I am well aware of the changes, but I'm afraid it is much more serious than _that_."

Seeming to remember his place, David quickly closed his mouth. In his curiosity, he wanted to say more but was unwilling to argue with his pack leader. Keryn simply stared in disbelief, wiping away tears she shed for Derrick.

"Personally, I'd find that a serious matter. At least for myself," Eddie said, never one to care about the proper time and place for anything.

"This is amazing..." Keryn murmured, still too stunned to show her disapproval of Eddie's remark.

Rowland waved at their words in irritation, as though brushing cobwebs from the air. "How is this amazing?" he demanded.

Keryn stammered, caught in her words. "Sorry... I... I didn't even think this was possible. I just meant this changes so much."

He frowned at her, as Keryn realized how inappropriate her statement had been in light of the news that Derrick was gone.

"I wish things were different in regard to Derrick. Without his body, we will have to mourn later." The group solemnly nodded in unison following the voice of their leader. "Right now, I need to know more about this girl. Keryn, you researched her. As I recall, you mentioned in your report that she is quite the alpha personality type?"

Across the room, Smith made his opinion clear with a loud snort, his hand still firmly gripping the blade. "You know perfectly well what change shall become this girl."

Rowland aimed a piercing glance in his direction. "As I was about to say, she could become extremely violent."

Keryn pressed her fingers against the screen. "Well, she looks pretty peaceful to me."

"And I plan to keep her that way," Rowland said. "Eddie, David, I want you to go into the cellar and put those sedatives to use. We need to keep her under as long as we possibly can. It should, in theory, prevent her from changing; at least until we can figure out what is to become of her."

The twins nodded together, promptly leaving the room to carry out his request. As the front door closed behind them, Smith's bellowing voice filled the house. "This is not protocol, Rowland. Why did you not kill her the moment she transformed? For that matter, when she first entered?!"

"Wait a minute!!" Keryn interjected. "It's protocol now to kill people? This wasn't her fault... was it?" She looked to Rowland.

Rowland closed his eyes, placing his hand against his forehead his head was starting to throb. "No, it wasn't her fault, and yes humans who witness such an event shall be killed to protect our secrets."

Smith had a fair point, and Rowland knew it. He had broken their laws; laws he had enforced in the past when others in the pack had broken them. Lifting his hand away, he looked straight at Smith, urging him to put himself in the same place. "The entire scene was chaos," he said, "and I could not ignore how valuable she was to Derrick. I wounded her first, then focused on dispatching the security guard she had brought with her. It was a split-second decision, he was phoning 911, and posed the biggest threat. She should not have been a problem for me."

"Then how did this happen?" Smith's aggression came through in his tone.

"Somehow she must have transferred blood and saliva from Derrick's bite into her wound. By the time I got to her, Derrick had died, and she was already changed into what you see before you. I've never seen someone change so fast. You know that I would do nothing to put this family at risk, but what could I do? Leave her there for the police to find? They were already on their way, and this was the best solution I could come up with."

Smith huffed, his face red, glowering with disapproval.

Rowland turned towards the window, a lost expression in his eyes. "Besides... something in me told me not to kill her. She is the only successor I have now."

"An _abomination_ is what she is." Smith's voice shook the house. Behind him, on the screens, the others could see the twins entering the room. It was a comforting sign that they were the only things moving down there.

Keryn glared at Smith from across the room, speaking out before he could carry on. "Well, I studied her for months, and in _my_ opinion, she's amazing. Rowland, she might be a strong personality type, but she is also an amazing human being. From everything I witnessed, she's very fair and kind, even to random strangers. Sure, I wouldn't want to get on her bad side." She shrugged. "The girl definitely knows how to take care of herself, but what can you expect from someone who grew up in the foster system? No one even knows who her birth parents are."

"Why? Are the records sealed?" Rowland asked skeptically.

"No, her birth parents just dropped her off on the doorstep of a children's home. Of all places, it was a small town in the Yukon, called Whitehorse. Apparently, all they found with her was a necklace bearing the name Devon, which she kept."

"So, her past is troubled? That could make the change erratic." Rowland expressed his concerns.

"Maybe." Keryn nodded. "After several foster homes up there, she ran away from one of many abusive family placements. At the age of twelve, she had ended up in Vancouver, finding a home within a group of sex workers for the next two years. She avoided the system until she left Vancouver for reasons unknown to Derrick. She was fourteen by then. After that, she was found living on the beaches of Victoria by her now adoptive father."

"And the father? Anything there, any violence or domestic issues?"

"Nothing like that. Her father is a firefighter who currently lives in Vancouver. From what I could find, he's a pretty stand-up guy." Exposing Devon's past didn't seem to be helping her case. Keryn looked to Rowland with utmost sincerity, her eyes wide with pleading; but there was none.

"What about since then?"

Unsure of why she was so eager to prove Devon's value, Keryn continued. "Let's see, she worked at the bank with Derrick, and the two of them were intimately involved."

"Yes, yes, I know all of this," Rowland said impatiently. "Give me her current situation."

"I'm not sure what else to say. Derrick must have told you all of this," Keryn said, "She's got a clean record, which is pretty amazing, considering her past. She even volunteers on the weekends with the city's outreach programs."

"This is ridiculous; the girl needs to be destroyed!" Smith bellowed, unwilling to be moved by Keryn's appeal.

She spun around to face him, infuriated by his stubbornness.

Glancing at the girl's clenched fist, Smith's brow softened. He shook his head with a flicker of compassion. "Little girl, I could swat you like a fly."

"Someday, you may just get the chance to find out," she growled back.

The giant broke into a lopsided grin, while finally lifting his hand from the blade. Smith's tone changed, now full of affection for his young adversary. "You've been saying that to me since you could speak," he said, placing a massive hand on her shoulder. His voice became gentle. "You weren't there when this happened before; you don't understand the danger she poses."

She dropped her shoulder, shrugging his hand away. "This is different, father. _He_ was different, and _she_ won't be like that."

Observing the screen again, Keryn watched the rise and fall of Devon's slumbering breath. _All that life, that potential_. "Oh god, Orin! The family across the water are going to want an update on your successor," she reminded Rowland. "As well as an invitation to the welcoming ceremony. What are we going to do?"

The room kept quiet. Keryn had voiced what Rowland had been thinking since the night before. Her face went grim as she whispered to herself. "She's an alpha..."

"Well, yeah... she was made by Rowland," Eddie replied, as he and his brother slipped back into the room behind her like a pair of shadows.

Keryn folded her arms, in no mood for Eddie's cockiness. "No...stupid. I mean she's an alpha personality to begin with, as well as an Alpha pack leader." Looking at her father's face, she finally realized why he was so adamant in his rejection of this new wolf. "It's forbidden," her voice barely a choked whisper.

Eddie nudged her. "Ok smarty pants, how do you know it's forbidden? You're just a young pup."

"Well, Eddie," She looked at him blankly, "I do this funny thing called reading. You might want to try it someday."

"Enough! All of you!" Rowland had no patience for banter when there were real issues at hand. Knowledge of when to take things seriously was amongst the highest obligation as pack leader.

Eddie looked towards him coolly, utterly unperturbed by the scolding. "So, why is this not allowed to happen, anyway?" he asked.

"It is _forbidden_. Those are the laws that we created in order to keep the peace between the two families." Answers such as these did little in the way of satisfying the younger members of his pack, and it was time for that to change. They were young, but they weren't children anymore.

"We cannot allow the Alpha bite and alpha personality to mix. That much natural dominance can produce malevolent results," he told them. "A monstrosity was created once before, and it nearly destroyed everything for our kind. Since the dawn of our creation, we have always had the balance of an Alpha bite against an appropriately malleable beta personality."

"So, who was it? I mean who was created?" Again, Eddie asked in his ignorance.

Keryn shook her head. "It first happened in the Middle Ages, when the family across the water began. Their first leader is the earliest known case." Her voice began to imitate her father's deep baritone. "It took countless years and bloodshed beyond measure to restore the balance of the clans. There was an uprising from his family that created an alliance between our two packs to change things, to keep the peace."

"Peace?" Smith interjected, ignoring his daughter's retort. "Is that what we choose to call it? They should have been annihilated back in the Dark Ages." He laid his hand on the desk, leaning in towards Rowland's face with an air of challenge.

"I remind you that I was not the Alpha during that time," Rowland replied

"And let me remind you. I was _there_ during that time, and I learned all I need to know to see how this plays out. That thing," Smith pointed to the monitor, "must be destroyed, or she will become a plague worse than he was. Or better yet, that she-demon that created him." He stood up straight, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "You claim not to be there. Look back into your memories and tell me that I am wrong."

Torn between reason and instinct, Rowland shook his head. "I have seen the memories, and I agree the outcome could be just that. This time, something feels different, something _is_ different. I'm making the decision to see what happens to her... the change, _this_ has never happened before."

"I second that motion." Standing just behind her father, Keryn's smile went unseen, but her voice was heard by them all.

Smith spread his arms, addressing the whole room with his gesture as he turned to face her. "So, it's to be a vote then, is it? If that is the case, then every person in this family shall be heard."

Cutting across the air with his hand, Rowland stood abruptly. "Smith, I will always respect your guidance in times of war, and I know that you have been there during our darkest days, but this is not war."

"Not yet." Smith shook his head.

"The whole family _will_ have its say," Rowland insisted, "and I _will_ hear from every one of them."

There was nothing left to be said regarding Devon's current fate. Rowland turned to the younger members of the group, addressing them as a whole. "Please, all of you go down to the panic room and shut the door. I need to hold council with the Druid."

None of them seemed to require persuading. Regardless of individual opinion, Keryn was especially keen to get a closer look at the new wolf. While the Druid and Smith remained in the room, Keryn, Eddie, and David left without any further remarks.

From through the floorboards, Rowland waited in silence for the echo of the safe room's door to close. He returned into his chair, no longer caring to hide how drained he felt. Any attempt to conceal this from his present company was entirely futile, and he knew it.

Finally, Rowland had the privacy to honestly address the old man posed so regally near the window. Both of his hands, with their gnarled fingers, had been twined together on his lap through his plaited hair. Up until this point, he had remained silent, as though he had grown roots down through the chair and had become part of the room itself. Though not the case, his calm and quiet nature gave an air of passive innocence to anyone who didn't know him. Rowland always had the frustrating and familiar sense of being the dependent one out of this relationship. The shame he felt with this brought bitterness to his voice he hadn't intended.

"Why was there no vision? How could you have not seen this?" Rowland met his glance.

A pair of haunting pale eyes, as though the winter sky behind shone through the sockets that now gazed toward him. "I have received no warnings or omens," he said. "There was nothing in the signs...nothing. Without whispers from beyond or above, I am as blind as you were, and are."

"Well, there should have been something." Rowland had thought if anything, the Druid would have had some clue to answer this dilemma. "The Gods gave us a vision of Derrick, a vision that I have failed to bring to fruition, why are we being punished? Have we not done right by them through all these years?"

"Was your bite upon her?" His eyes looked soulfully at him, knowing the answer he sought before the Alpha could speak the words.

Rowland said them anyway if only to bring this fundamental realization out into the world; to make it real. "No. My bite was not upon her. Derrick was the one who received it."

"Then the girl has created herself. If this is what fate required, then we must have faith that the Gods meant for her to exist. If you had wronged the Gods, we would have known by now."

Rowland gave him a reproachful look. "You talk about faith? Faith in Gods no one has seen in twenty-five hundred years."

"Look at your memories...." the old man urged.

"But they are not _my_ memories, and even if they were, that is all they are now! Memories! How do we even know they exist in this reality anymore? If they do, why cause such suffering? Why would they take my son from me, a second time?" With his eyes, Rowland begged him to provide an answer.

"They exist because _we_ exist," the Druid replied, "and in turn, we exist because they do. I believe that if they had moved on from this world, we would not be having this conversation."

Rowland pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. This cryptic style of conversation had happened between them many times already and suddenly made him more tired than he had felt in years. "You truly believe that this Alpha is meant to be?"

The Druid nodded. " _She_ is."

"If you believe the Gods want her to live, then she lives."

Smith spat on the floor in disgust. "This won't end well Rowland," he rumbled, "I can feel it in my bones. For the families' sake, I hope your god's logic will have some sway against Orin and his disgrace of a family, or at least his perverse curiosity. For if it doesn't, this girl shall bring war upon our two houses."

Rowland took heed in his words, but there was nothing else to be done. His only hope now was to buy his family sometime before facing their neighbors across the water. Shame burned in him at the thought of Orin's smug satisfaction upon hearing the news of his monumental error. Rowland clicked a button on the desk calling the young ones back upstairs.

"It is imperative that this is kept from Orin's family until after she transforms. We have to see what happens to her first," he commanded. "There will likely be news reports about Derrick Ashton's death, but knowing Orin, he will be too wrapped up in the transformation of his successor to notice.

"Do you really think that American news channels would give much, if any, air time to crime in Victoria?" Keryn asked.

"You could have a point there, but it's not a chance we should take. I want David and Eddie here to monitor her and keep her under sedation. Smith, please take the Druid and return to the house. Keryn, I need you to work on keeping the rest of the family settled. We have traditions to observe, and Alban Arthan will still go on. Though our family may be facing a crisis, we will not risk insulting the Gods even further by not carrying out the Yule festival."

Everyone nodded and fell in line with their orders as they prepared to leave.

"Oh, and Keryn, send an invitation to Orin, asking him to come to us within eight days. That should give us enough time to sort this mess out."

"And the girl?" Keryn asked.

"No word about the girl to anyone. After she has changed, we will transport her to the house." He stood up from the desk, glad at least to be making plans. He had learned long ago that preparation and action lay at the heart of being a great leader.

"Smith, if anything happens to me, or Orin does get wind of this, there will be no visits or tests done on her until she is awake. We have to be the ones to assess her, is that understood?"

Smith grunted his approval, always ready to assume the defensive position, while the Druid graciously bowed his head.

December 21st, 2010

Through the floorboards, the nightclub's bass thumped like a muted heartbeat; infusing the blackened room with a womb-like feel. This ambiance created a soothing atmosphere for Orin's private musings. At least they did until the illusion of his thoughts were disturbed by the opening of the mirrored double doors behind him.

Siobhan entered gracefully; her body enveloped in a wave of rhythmic sound. The shine from her black evening dress clung to her rich curves like a floating shadow. Orin dismissed her, lazily brushing his hand through the air vaguely in her direction. Unsuccessful in his attempt, she and the dress she wore, remained intact.

She was uninterested in taking his dismissal to heart. While she slowly approached the leather chair in which he sat brooding, a sly smile ran gracefully across her lips. "My darling, are you still sulking up here in the dark...." A coyness seeped into her voice, spreading through her words like a slow stain.

"By now you should know that I do not repeat myself, without consequence." Though he had never really spoken in the first place, his meaning had been clear enough.

"You are so incredibly dull sometimes, my love." She approached the back of the chair, placing her hands on his shoulders, before sliding them down slowly across his chest.

He grabbed her arms at the wrist squeezing them. "What do you want?" an irritation arose in his voice.

"You should turn on the news," she suggested, as she clawed her nails deep against his chest.

Orin had gasped a moan of pleasure before pushing away her arms. "I told you, when my new son awakens from his wolf form then you may enter here. _That_ is all I'm interested in."

Again, she ignored his warning as she leaned closer, grazing his ear teasingly with her breath. Her hands massaged his tense shoulders before whispering the news. There was a satisfaction she relished in being the first to know something he didn't. "Victoria has had a triple murder... something about a flayed victim and a missing person, and it's not at all who you think it might be."

Siobahn nipped lightly at his earlobe, knowing Orin's mind would be too engrossed with this information to bother flinching away now. "Besides my love, you should know I wouldn't have wasted _our_ time to interrupt your brooding if it wasn't important."

Her hands made their slow ascent back from whence they came, as she stood behind him. Without another word, she retraced her steps leaving the room, looking for all the world as though time had just reversed itself.

Orin sat up straight once she was gone, reaching for the remote. The massive wall of flat screens snapped to life with a riot of colors and sound. Most of these monitors were already tuned into several news stations, filling the room with chatter.

A conventionally attractive blonde was in mid-sentence on the largest screen, speaking in the trained robotic pace of TV news reporters around the world.

"... Tonight's held a gruesome turn of events on the west coast of B.C. When police released the identities of two male victims of last night's shocking triple murder. The names for the victims are Derrick Ashton and Jackson Penn. According to the report given, Derrick Ashton, a twenty-two-year-old bank teller, was living in the condominium where the killings took place. There is still no information on the connection between Penn, the building's night watchman, and the other two victims. The identity of the _female_ victim is still not being released to the public, but what the police have reported is that a substantial amount of the female victim's DNA was found at the scene — the body itself is still reported as missing. We will continue to keep you updated on our top story as more information comes in."

The man who now took her place on the screen thanked his colleague with a falsely grave expression. Orin's laughter began to rise quickly, blotting out the bland words, now lost from the TV screens.

Still lingering with her back against the other side of the door, this was a sound far more pleasant to Siobhan's ear than the electronic beat encasing the night around her.

Chapter Six

A BLOODY AWAKENING

"Don't you think it's time we take her off the sedatives?" Connor said to the camera, waving at the lens outside the panic room. "It's been five days since the full moon Rowland; we have to wake her. Tonight the pack celebrates the final day of Alban Arthan, and we need our Alpha.

Connor's concern was evident from the sound of his voice, but it was the expression on his face that filled Rowland with pangs of uncertainty. His brow creased with worry, the younger man's features were reminiscent of a Greek hero locked within a tragic myth.

From her perch at the windowsill, Keryn joined the conversation. "Yesterday was the most awkward day of Yule I've ever attended. The silence in the great hall was deafening." Her attempt to break the tense subject was unsuccessful, evidenced by the tightening of Rowland's shoulders.

Connor instantly discarded his gloomy expression in favor of laughter. "I'm glad that's not how Christmas _always_ is when I'm gone," he chuckled. No matter what Connor was feeling, there was always room to feel something more. It was one of the things Keryn appreciated most in him, as he was often able to break the tension emanating from Rowland. She sometimes wondered if Connor did it intentionally to keep morale up when Rowland's moods were impacting the pack.

With a weak smile, a little of her worry was relieved by her pack mate's empathic nature. Keryn enjoyed it, though she knew the moment would pass as quickly as it had come.

Sure enough, their mirth quickly turned serious. "The family needs your guidance, Rowland." Second, in command, it was Connor's unspoken task to be straight with him; to keep their sullen pack leader focused when necessary. Over the centuries of their friendship, he had learned there were moments when he had to push quite hard. He sensed this was one of those days.

"I only wish we had more time," Rowland sighed, frustrated. "Or given a vision, something to work with."

"We don't have any more time — it's been all over the news for days. Your invite to the other family is set to go out tomorrow, and our family needs to know what your next move is." Connor's voice was gently sympathetic, although his words were stern. Keryn knew he was still holding back, unsure whether or not to reveal the full extent of what he needed to say. Deciding against being diplomatic, Connor believed it might just be the catalyst Rowland required. "I was waiting for a better moment to tell you since I got here, but I got a phone call this morning at the house. It was from Orin's weasel of a son, on behalf of his father. Orin wants a meeting with you to discuss the future of our family's state of affairs. Rowland, Orin knows."

Even from across the room, Keryn could see a quivering pulse along Rowland's temple at the mention of Orin's name. He stared intensely into the monitor before him as though willing the answers he needed to appear on the screen. _Orin_...

Abruptly he stood, sending the chair crashing into the wall behind him.

Not sure what was needed of her, Keryn hopped down off the windowsill stepping closer towards him. "Rowland, what is it?" Without hesitation, he pushed the desk, sliding it halfway across the room in his haste. Though Devon was bedridden below with a stream of sedatives, the thunder of Rowland's boots on the stairs should have been enough to wake anyone. Shocked at the sudden change in his mood, she turned to follow.

Connor was unsure of his motivations but knew better as he stood aside. Completely enraged, Rowland spun the lock on the steel door hard enough to send a burst of sparks showering down onto the cement at his feet. Just a step or two behind him, Keryn covered her ears at the piercing grind of metal on metal.

Rowland tore across the cell, grabbing the unconscious wolf by the shoulders.

"Rowland, no!" Keryn grabbed at his arms trying to pull him off.

Connor placed his arms around her waist, wrenching her back. Despite her smaller size, she possessed a similar strength, and they struggled together like a tangled chain of arms and legs. Within a few moments, Keryn's grip slipped, her fingers not strong enough to withstand being caught between her two pack mates. They stumbled backward, sending both the drip stand and IV solution clattering to the ground.

"You weren't supposed to be there; you weren't supposed to be the one!" Rowland choked out in his rage. At his breaking point, his violent shaking of Devon ripped the needle free from her arm. All of his confusion from the last few days had hardened into this single point.

Keryn pushed against the arms wrapped around her, trying to free herself, but he just gripped tighter keeping her out of reach. Connor always believed that if they couldn't trust Rowland's judgment, they were lost already.

As their Alpha vented himself, they watched in horror as a section of the wolf's hide tore away from under the pressure of Rowland's grip. Pale strips of smooth flesh were exposed, bloody and bare. Caught in his dismay, he released Devon allowing her body to fall backward onto the thick plastic mattress cover. Slowly he stepped back from the bed, tossing the hide that had come away in his grasp. The sickening splat as it hit the tile floor could be heard above the trio's stunned silence as Devon's body began to thrash violently.

"Not like this!" Keryn burst out, arms extending towards the transforming wolf. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Devon was emerging from her animal form; it shifted away from her body like a broken chrysalis. The snout began to collapse in on itself, while her palms pushed and pulled against her face. Devon, unable to breathe, instinctively slid her hands beneath a tear at the neckline; effortlessly pulling the lifeless skin away. Finally, the barrier of suffocating fur and flesh was removed as she gasped, filling her lungs with air.

As a human reborn for the first time, she blindly tossed the face over the side of the bed; it hit the floor with a wet slap. Naked and dripping, she trembled while sitting upright on the mattress. All around her the fur and flesh began to fall away, dissolving into piles of sludge. Devon was fully conscious of the sensations of her new body after her long sleep. Her hands made an exploratory tour of her face, like a blind person seeing someone for the first time. The trio stood frozen, barely breathing as they waited for what would come next.

Devon's eyelids flared open, stark voids in the gore dripping off of her features. Her dark pupils focused instantly on the blood glistening all over. Both her eyes slowly moved to Rowland, as he hovered closest to Devon's perch on the bed, settling on his hands. They were as red with blood as her own, triggering something primal within her. Faster than anyone could respond, she lunged off the bed at Rowland, screaming with rage.

There was no chance for Rowland even to move. She grabbed his jacket, spinning him with all of her force, releasing him into the air. Rowland soared across the room with a crash, his body impacted hard into Keryn and Connor, sending them all sprawling past the open doorway. Desperately he shoved the two young wolves off of him, trying to regain control of the situation. The three of them clambered back to their feet as Rowland pushed the iron door shut before Devon could follow.

Only a split second later, she slammed hard against it from the other side. Her new strength forced it back against them, opening it several inches. Through the crack, they were able to hear the extent of her unbridled screams.

"Help me!" Rowland cried.

Connor came to his aid, bracing against Rowland's other side. Both men heaved with all their strength, giving Keryn enough time to turn the wheel of the sliding lock. None of them dared to move so long as the heavy door was shaking under Devon's powerful blows. They had all known to expect anything, but her level of ferocity still left them stupefied.

Abruptly the attacks stopped, and the reverberations of the door quieted. As the silence hovered around them, Rowland began to slowly back away. He pointed at Connor and Keryn to remain propped up against it. Both of them were breathing raggedly, waiting for the next wave. As the minute stretched out and the pounding and the noise failed to start up again, Connor whispered to Rowland, "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, but hopefully, she is unconscious again," he whispered back. "Wait here; I'm going to check the camera while Connor, you continue to hold the door with Keryn. We can't let her escape." Rowland made his way quietly up the stairs with delicate movements, desperately hoping that even if she heard him, her silence was a sign of submission instead of tactical ferocity. While he had managed to contain the outburst, this time, he knew she would continue to get stronger the longer she was alive. He realized how wolf alphas in the wild must feel when young members of their pack started to challenge their authority.

Inside the office, he lifted the collapsed monitor back into place while moving the camera in a slow pan from the bed to the inner door. The area on the screen was unhindered, the only sign of Devon was a bloody trail of footprints leading to the other side of the room. Against the far corner, the camera found her. Huddled with her back up against the metal wall, she was visibly weeping. As tight as her one arm could, she pulled her body close, attempting to cover herself with the other. All of the terror and confusion were clear to him even through the grainy lens.

Rowland's heart dropped; this was not what he intended for a first impression. His hand hovered over the intercom button on his desk, as his mind searched desperately for the right words to say. Finally, he pressed it, and instantly her body tensed to the sound of the open static.

"Who's there?" she called out to the empty room, head raised and listening.

Rowland couldn't answer. What he thought of a moment ago had left him, and he found his tongue heavy as his mind raced.

"Where am I?" Her voice cracked over the microphone as he watched her pull her knees up closer to her chest.

"Devon, you are safe." Finally, Rowland's words began to find a way through his lips.

"Bullshit!" She shook as a fresh outbreak of sobs choked her voice. "There's blood... everywhere! What... what have you done to me?!"

It was hard to match this distraught girl before him with the one who had just thrown him across a room like a rag doll. "There is a lot we need to explain to you. I need you to calm down before I can send someone in."

She wiped her nose on the side of her arm, not responding to him. It only served to smear the gore around more, and she fixated on her bloody skin.

"Devon? Do you hear me?" he asked. "The blood is not from what you think; you are not physically injured. Look at the ceiling. If you want to wash the blood away, just pull the chain, and a showerhead will appear over the drain in the floor."

Taking into consideration what he was saying, she couldn't physically feel any pain or see any cuts. Still, this did not bring her any comfort; those words were indeed coming from the person who had put her here in the first place. Devon had always relied on her ability to read people, and it was a skill that had saved her more than once. How could she trust this faceless voice if he wouldn't even look her in the eyes as he said it? Then again, what other choices did she have?

Devon considered for a long moment, caught between the desire to stay where she was and the desire to be clean. Completely overwhelmed by the stickiness and the ripe coppery smell all around her, she finally caved to his suggestion. Keeping her one arm tight across her breasts, with the last shred of humility, she crawled over to the grate on the floor; trying to shield her nakedness from the camera's view. Tiny hairs rose as her skin crawled with a sense of exposure and vulnerability. The most violating part was being aware that she could be seen without knowing who was watching from outside the room. A fresh wave of tears threatened to overtake her, and she fought them down.

Each foot slipped against the blood as she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. Devon gave a sharp pull as she wrapped her hand around the chain above her head. From inside the ceiling, the shower head lowered, releasing a spray of warm water across the entire room. It pattered loudly against the plastic mattress, washing all the dissolved tissue and blood towards the drain in a thick soup. There was some truth to the words spoken to her; Devon could see there were no wounds responsible for all this blood. _Then whose blood is it?_ _Was it from me?_ Sharp pain creased across her brow as the thoughts turned her inward. _I threw that man across the room. Did I hurt someone? What did I do?_

While Devon washed away the blood, Rowland called down to Keryn to ready some provisions to bring in for her.

Once the flow of water ran clear, she pulled the chain again to stop the shower.

"Devon?" Instantly the intercom crackled back into life. "May I send a young woman in with some clothing for you?" It was the same voice as before. "Devon, I need you to put yourself against the wall furthest from the door. Her name is Keryn, and she has something for you to wear, towels and some bedding."

"Fine, but only her," Devon shouted. Limited in her options, she did as he said, walking back against the wall. This tiny moment of respite from being clean turned under, transforming into a sickening panic. Why was she being held captive in here? _Oh god, this is really happening_. The grinding of the metal door made her cringe as it was hauled open by her visitor.

At least what the voice said was true. So far, anyway. The girl who entered the room was around Devon's height, and her passive stance didn't seem at all threatening. In fact, she looked slightly more scared than Devon herself; if that were even possible. Cradled in her arms, the frail girl hugged the supplies to her chest as though to shield herself; the way a child might use their own stuffed toy.

They both stood to study one another for a moment; Devon judged the distance to the door and the chances of getting past the girl. Then what? There were at least two other men in the house which she would have to bypass before escaping. Before her plan grew any further, the girl began to stammer out her words. "Here, let me wipe off that mattress for you." She pulled one of the towels away from the pile with one arm and crossed the room to swipe it over the water that pooled on the plastic cover. Once a spot had been cleared for the other items, she neatly set them down. To Devon, it was evident that without the armload of fabric, the girl seemed lost at what to do next. Finally, she stooped down to pick up one of the towels, holding it out to her like a peace offering.

"Please, take it. I'm here to help." Both of her eyes respectfully kept their view above Devon's neckline, filled with embarrassment and compassion for her situation.

Devon didn't know how this girl came to be here, but her kindness struck something within her. Keryn stepped closer, allowing Devon enough distance to reach out with one hand and accept the towel comfortably; wrapping it quickly around herself.

Respectfully, the girl was already moving away from Devon, giving her the space she needed. "I'm so sorry you had to wake up this way. You must be terrified," she said.

Devon didn't respond. Instead, she just stood watching and gauging the girl's actions.

"I understand. This is a lot to take in. I'll leave you to get ready and hopefully we can clear all this up for you." She crossed the distance to the door, but before she could turn to leave, Devon finally spoke.

"Where am I? How did I get here?"

"You really are in the safest place you could be." The girl looked close to tears and desperate to get away. She gripped tight around her elbows, holding herself in much the same way Devon had a few moments before, as though she could hide behind her arms. "I know it seems far from it, but it's true. If I could somehow go back and change it, I would. You were never meant to wake up like that."

To hide them, Devon averted her eyes from the girl as tears began to fall. This moment was the one Keryn needed, as she backed herself out the door and locked it behind her. How strange it was, Devon thought, that a girl so delicate could maneuver the heavy door with such ease.

Without hesitation, Devon got dressed in the generic black sweatshirt and pants. There was a sheet in the stack of provisions, and she draped it across the mattress, unwilling to deny herself what little comfort she could. Along the bed, Devon curled herself into a ball staring at the door with her back to the camera. Still unwilling to accept this reality for what it is, she closed her eyes tight, attempting to wake from this nightmare of a situation. Desperately she searched her mind for any clues about what had happened. She was still locked in the grip of shock and anxiety until her eyelids began to soften while her mind began to drift, unaware of the odorless gas filling the room.

Inside the monitor room, Keryn gave Rowland a sharp look of concern as she watched the cloudy vapor slowly descend. "What is that?" she asked.

"It's something we created in secret, a particular type of anesthetic and sedative mix. Fatal to humans, but enough to work on us."

"How do you know it will work on _her_? She's an alpha, not just a wolf-like us?"

"Your father has tested it on me several times. I wouldn't use it on her unless I knew it was safe."

"Why would you even create such a thing?" Keryn's fear of the gas was evident in her voice.

"Not for you child, or anyone else in our family for that matter. It was only kept secret as a last possible resort in dealing with other problems we have."

Connor nodded, knowing exactly who his leader was referring.

"I don't need to remind Connor, but I will remind you that this topic is _forbidden_ ," Rowland said, eyes gazing over Keryn as she nodded back.

"Speaking of other problems," Connor said, "what do you want to do about Orin coming?"

Rowland's frown deepened as his frustration began to return. If only for a moment, Devon's transformation had taken his mind away from the challenges at hand.

"You know he's not going hold off coming if we ask now," Connor went on. "Alban Arthan will be over, leaving us nothing to hide behind. Orin _will_ show up here tomorrow morning. He wouldn't pass up the opportunity to rub this in our faces."

"Rowland, Connor is right. Something has to be done."

Of course, he was. Despite his reluctance to acknowledge the complication out loud, all of Rowland's mental preparation had been building up to this. "Connor, I need you to stay here and watch over her while I prepare the family," he instructed. "Besides, Orin will not know she has awoken. Wolves can slumber for a week, and the change can be very gradual. I have never heard of, nor seen someone change so quickly. So far, at least, I'm not seeing any signs of violent behavior from her."

Connor was astonished. "She threw us like we were toy dolls!"

"She was terrified!" Keryn spoke up.

Rowland nodded his head without looking at her. "Yes that she was, but even so she should not be this strong so soon." A worried tone had crept into his voice.

"Then what are we supposed to do with her?" Asked Keryn

"We don't have a choice, and neither does she. That girl becomes a part of this family as my successor, or we all suffer the consequences."

Reminiscent of those once found in great fortresses, the grand doors to the main hall were a testament to the family's history. Made from solid oak, every inch of wood was meticulously carved with scenes of historical events and legendary figures of centuries past.

Just beyond these stories sat the people whose ancestry had been laid out inside a border of Celtic knot work and runic script. Each of them waited in tense silence, gathered together on carved stone chairs inside the circular room. Up through the bronze grate beneath their feet, a cold draft carried the rich scent of the earth. The collection of lavish tapestries surrounding the chamber did little to dampen the strain seeping out from within the stone walls. Much like the doors, the metal floor was fashioned into a fantastical knot work of wolves interconnecting with different symbols. This whole metal floor suspended the group above a vast pit, leading twenty-five feet into the ground. Below each of the chairs, a stone tunnel branched out like the spokes of a wheel into a massive array of catacombs.

After a beautiful ceremony performed by the Druid, the last night of Yule came to a close. Keryn and Connor's absence had not gone unnoticed; choosing instead to stay behind and watch over Devon as she slept. The rest of the family shifted pensively in their chairs, any half-hearted chatter now long abandoned as their leader finally entered the room. Under the light of the stars that shone down through the domed glass, Rowland took his seat at the far end of the round hall, before surveying his pack seated around him.

His voice took over as the echo of his footfalls waned. "Some of you know, tragedy has fallen upon this house." Tension deepened as his words hung heavy in the air. "For those who do not know, Derrick is dead, and will not be taking his place by my side as your next Alpha."

Those of the group who were hearing this for the first time sat in stunned silence until the sound of children crying rang out through the room. Following behind it came the shocked murmur of questioning voices.

"This has never happened in the history of succession amongst our kind." He waited while the group fell back into a momentary silence for the loss of their future leader. The glow of candlelight flickered across their faces, as they looked to him for answers. "The Gods have been cruel and kind; not all is lost in this awful tragedy," he said. "Someone _was_ changed that night."

Bolstered by the closeness of her mate now holding her hand, and the two small children that clung to her as they wept, a woman with hair that rivaled the orange glow of the candle's flame spoke up. "Who, Rowland?" Jenn asked.

"Devon." He knew the name would require no explanation.

Her eyes grew large, vast moons in the shadows of the hall. "My ears must be deceiving me in my age, did you say Devon?" she asked in disbelief. "His... girlfriend? But, a female alpha... I thought that was forbidden!" She glanced, finding an accord from the faces nodding around her.

"Yes, Devon wasn't supposed to be there. From what we knew, she was in Vancouver with her father. As for the laws, they are unbroken; I did not bite her," he answered.

Jenn's raised eyebrow showed further explanation was required.

"The girl essentially created herself. When Devon interrupted the ritual, she transferred my DNA from Derrick's bite into a wound I had given her."

"The security guard..." Jenn gasped. "I saw something in the paper, but I didn't read the whole article."

"Yes, this is all over the media. I'm aware of the shame I have brought upon myself and the danger I have put this family in. Allowing her to live was not my choice, by the time I reached her she had already changed. Leaving the body of a wolf laying there would have further complicated the issue." He allowed them all a moment to absorb the facts and look at it from another perspective.

"What does the Druid have to say?" asked a thin young man, his pale face hanging in the gloom. "I thought the Druid knew everything."

Motionless until now, the Druid stirred in his chair lifting his arm to point at the young wolf. Before he could answer, the Alpha raised a hand to silence him. Rowland wasn't interested in qualifying how much or how little the Druid knew, in this or any other matter, even though the lack of visions had unnerved him as well. The only thing that mattered now was to bring the pack into an agreement with the inevitability of the situation. "Jesse," he answered with a firmness in his voice, "the Druid believes that the Gods made these events come to pass. If they wanted a different outcome or Derrick to be the Alpha, the events of that night would have played out differently. Faith in our Gods is needed now more than ever, especially if we are going to keep this family together."

Jenn's husband, John, a police officer for the surrounding Sooke region, began to speak. "This whole situation has put more attention on us than we've ever known. I'm doing my best to steer the Sooke police away and keep the investigation in Downtown Victoria where Derrick and Devon both lived. They're still looking for a body and won't stop with so many unanswered questions. Lots of people are calling the tip lines suggesting we sweep the woods around Sooke; they think her body might have been dumped as far as out here. This case has become pretty high-profile, and I don't see this going away anytime soon. Our only saving grace is that the team working this case in Victoria are making connections between this incident and the missing Goldstream girls from last year."

"So what are you suggesting?" Rowland asked.

"It means we need to be more cautious. I think it would be best to spend less time at this main house and more time at our individual residences."

Rowland nodded. He was always grateful for John's input on the workings of the outside world through the eyes of the police department.

Jenn, on the other hand, turned sharply in her chair, sizing up her mate with new eyes. "You knew about this? Why didn't you tell me? Was I the only one not invited to this secret assembly?"

"You're not the only one." Jesse waved his hand across the room, as unimpressed as Jenn was. No one seemed to notice the bitterness in his words.

As John opened his mouth to speak, Rowland intercepted, not allowing this to turn into a marital spat between the man and his spouse. "He was forbidden to tell anyone, by both the police and myself," he said, giving Jenn a moment to relinquish her misgivings. "As for the girl," he went on, bringing the conversation back to the current events, "for now, she must be viewed as our next Alpha. Without a successor, this family would have to merge with the Seattle pack, and you would all be under the rule of Orin's successor when I pass. However amicable our current arrangement with them may be, I know that no one in this family would want that."

At the mere mention of Orin's name, most of the pack members grew angry. Jenn placed one pale hand on the head of her son, drawing him closer. Her voice became protective, emerging in the tone of a husky growl. "I'd kill every one of them first. Like hell, I'm letting their ways near my children." Sophia sniffed hard, and her lip still quivered. Her crying for Derrick now done; though her grief still shone strongly in her eyes as she lifted her head from her mother's lap.

Hearing Jenn's reaction, Rowland's understanding expression was now a grimace as he nodded his approval. He had hoped that reminding the pack of the consequences of not accepting Devon would bring them all into an agreement. "I have made my decision," he declared, "and if anyone in this room feels the need to challenge it, speak now."

There was no objection amongst the family. Their gathered presence was unanimous in its silent acceptance. Each looked to Rowland, resolve growing as they understood how they were all in this together. Only Jesse's eyes remained downcast, staring at the grate beneath his feet, yet voicing no objections.

"It's settled then. We have all reviewed the files on Devon that Keryn has compiled, we all previously agreed that we would bring her into the family over time. It seems she was meant to be with us one way or the other."

"Speaking of Orin, he and Siobhan will be arriving here tomorrow accompanied by their son Vince. I have told Orin that their party should remain small, in order to avoid attention. This will give our two families a chance to discuss what is to become of Devon. It is important that we maintain the solidarity of our choice to keep Devon as Alpha. This choice will be crucial in dealing with Orin. Any weakness in our resolve will be an opportunity for him to exploit."

Jenn's face became smug with the prospect of thwarting their sister pack's leader. Catching her eye, Rowland smiled, fully approving.

"It is encouraged, yet you are not expected to attend. Because of the unknown outcome of Devon's Alpha status, there will be no ceremony tomorrow. It is best to leave her sleeping while she goes through her change, and I will only summon you all here when she is awake. By then we will have decided the best way to introduce her to our world."

With his hand, Rowland gestured for the Druid to rise as a signal that they were dismissed. The rest of the family stood from their chairs, leaving the room wordlessly with lowered heads, each wrapped up in their concerns and fears at the thought of merging with the Seattle pack. Only the Druid and Smith remained in position beside Rowland, the three of them waiting as their pack members filed through the doors. Along with Keryn, they were the only full-time residents of the house, and the need to stand on ceremony was over now that the meeting was adjourned. When the Druid lowered himself back into his chair, he released his staff into the air, allowing it hover by his side while Smith slowly paced.

"We must bring Devon here tomorrow night," Rowland announced. "We need to reawaken her as soon as possible."

Smith stopped abruptly, mid-stride. "I thought she was under sedation? I was amazed that it kept her under for this long, and now it seems you have turned to keeping secrets from your family."

"Some secrets are worth the risk. Devon is not asleep by virtue of sedation. At least not anymore," he explained, somewhat cautious. "She sleeps under the gas that you and I tested a few years back."

"The neurotoxin?" Smith asked, surprised. Sensing there were other things he didn't know. "She will not wake quickly. You didn't wake for seven days. What could have happened to result in such a thing?"

Rowland, with his preternatural hearing, knew that all the cars and family members had left the property. There was no need to refrain from telling them both all of what had happened. "This was not my finest hour, my friends. In my rage, she woke up and began to change within seconds. She was vastly traumatized by the whole ordeal and attacked in self-defense. I had no choice. I needed to put her under and keep her there."

"How could you leave my daughter watching your abomination?" The anger in Smith's voice was undisguised. He was uneasy with Devon's existence as a matter of principle and leaving his only child to guard her only amplified his feeling on the subject at hand.

Rowland lifted his palm, shaking his head, trying to hold off any further objections. "I would not put your daughter's life in jeopardy; Devon is deeply sedated. Besides, you know Keryn cannot be killed, and she has Connor there with her. The fact is, she is unable to hurt any of us before the new moon."

"It's not an injury to any of _us_ that concerns me right now. Let us not be hasty in the confidence of either of our offspring."

Giving a little thought for whether or not Smith had a point, Rowland did what he knew best: arming himself with the facts and soldiering on with what needed to be done. Debating other people's foreboding and chasing phantom fears could only be regarded as a waste of time.

"That was why the neurotoxin was required," he said. "I wasn't taking any chances. Smith, I need you to get one of your bracelets ready for her. We will be bringing her here tomorrow night, and I am taking every precaution necessary."

Smith's vision turned inward, nodding as his mind already moved on to the new task he was given. The giant was, above all, a man of action, and there was nothing more suited to soothe his nerves than the heat of his forge. All had been said. There would be no misgivings from Smith, at least not for the rest of this night.

"If you please," said Rowland. "I must speak with the Druid while you prepare for the morning." Smith had already turned to make his leave. His resounding steps echoed throughout the room as his shadow followed, looming larger than life along the curved stone walls.

"Come closer." From where he sat, the Druid extended his hands towards the pack leader. "Let my eyes see through yours," he said softly. Rowland came to him; both legs knelt as he took place at his feet. As the Druid waved his right hand, the staff quickly returned to his grip. Taking it, he leaned forward and pressed the wood against the Alpha's forehead, whispering words barely louder than the slow burn of candles along the wall. His eyes grew intensely, and after a moment, he sat back in his chair, nodding. "I see now; it was not as it should have been."

Rowland looked up into the old man's face with a teasing smile. "I thought everything was meant to happen the way it happens," he said. Instead of the typical stoic response, Rowland found something in the Druid's eyes that he had only seen in distant memories: the awe and bewilderment of a child. "You saw her, my Druid. She was so strong. That little girl threw me as though I were a mere husk... yet I know her reaction was from fear, and not of anger. I could feel her raw emotions. Waking up to all the blood around her and not knowing what she was, anyone would have been frightened."

"Fear is a good foretelling of what's to come," the Druid said. "It shows us that her emotions are intact, as well as her distaste for bloodshed. In this, we must take encouragement."

Rowland hung his head. He was deeply ashamed to know the Druid had seen the outburst that had caused her such fear. "I need her to trust us, and with my actions, I feel that now she will never be able to. Not with the way things have already happened," he confided. "I have no idea how to move forward in all of this. The girl knows nothing of what she is, or what is required of an Alpha. Derrick's journey into our world took over a year's time, and he was a believer in our ways. It took that long to teach him and have him scarcely prepared, and now I have only a few days with a girl who neither knew of any of this nor wanted it. Is this even possible?"

"It _is_ possible," the Druid insisted. "We have already witnessed that this girl is an extraordinary creature. Who can say what she may be capable of, given the right teacher?"

"If I were her, I wouldn't trust me. Not after what happened." The Alpha raised from his knees as he paced, stabbing his fingers to his temple. He turned to the Druid, "Is there anything you can do?" Rowland asked. "Something stronger than sedation...maybe," Rowland's eyes pleading. "Is there a way to start things new with her?"

The Druid arched his pale brow, already following the pack leader's self-revelation. "You are wondering if memory alteration on an Alpha is possible?" he said.

Rowland nodded, finally a light of hope in his eyes.

"It can be done, but for an Alpha, it requires powerful magic." The Druid smiled graciously. "Fortunately for this family, I possess the skills required."

Rowland was fascinated while he stared humbly at the old wizard; even after centuries, he was in awe of his mysterious knowledge. With a graceful movement, the Druid released his staff, sending it to hover between Rowland and himself. Along the gnarled side, a supple new branch broke through, slowly twisting out from its procreator. Without delay, the branch grew slender and tapered to a sharp point, as it was chanted into birth. Concluding his spell, the Druid broke away the new branch as the staff instantly restored itself leaving behind a pristine surface.

"By the eve of tomorrow, the enchantment will be complete. I suggest you use this time wisely in your preparation for Orin," he said.

"I don't even know where to begin."

"With your mind. Rowland, you must sleep and regain your faculties. The slyness of the fox will prey on weak prey. It will not do to have your consciousness clouded by fatigue during a time such as this."

Rowland half knelt beside the old man's chair, taking the Druid's hands within his own. He was overcome with a feeling, as the surge of hidden energy raced up his arms and into his chest; there was a strength within him that matched the unbreakable power of the oak staff he carried. "Thank you, my wise friend," the Alpha said, his heart already lighter with the prospect of alleviating even a small amount of his remorse.

"Do not praise what has not yet shown success. The girl will still have to make her choice. She must accept this new existence and choose to lead and protect this family with her life. This is much to ask of someone so young."

"Devon? She's not that much younger than Derrick is... was," Rowland reminded him. "We have to try at least. If not, the outcome will be submission or war." He released the Druid's hands and rose from his knee, preoccupied with all that was at stake. Lost in thought, he paced the floor a moment, stroking his beard. When he reached the center of the room, he turned back, facing the Druid once more.

"We will wait for Orin and his entourage to leave the island tomorrow; then we will transport her back here to the house. By that time, you should have your enchantment ready. In the safety of the house is where she will be awakened, in one of the old rooms. This will give us the time to observe her for a day or so, and evaluate if she is a threat or not. It will be good to see her reaction, without all the blood, and objectionable state of the change room in the safe house. All of this will help us to decide her outcome."

He paused, gazing up through the ceiling at the stars that guided their fates. "If she shows signs of violence, then.... we still may have to put her down."

"Without a successor, Rowland, you know the outcome. Are you ready to start a war for a girl you do not know?"

He locked his eyes with the Druids, his gaze borrowing the gleam of the stars above. "This girl is part of me now, and I will fight to the death to protect our pack. We are not a people of submission," he said. "I realize our family is what hangs in the balance, but let us hope Orin hasn't."

_ In the grip of his nightmare_, Rowland's fists grasped tightly against the sweat-soaked sheets that clung to his skin. Somehow he was aware of the dream, yet still helpless to the imagery that held him prisoner.

He cried out as his sleeping mind was assaulted by distorted memories of his failure, of the night he had lost his new son. Derrick's lifeless face and the sound of the security guard's gurgling scream as his hot blood trickled through his fur haunted his mind.

" _Such a waste. More innocent lives reduced to collateral damage, in the fall out of your failures_." A woman's voice hissed in his ear.

Rowland began to fall into darkness, screaming out against the voice. With a thud he hit the pavement, landing crouched, hovering over Devon's newborn form. Rowland was transformed into his wolf state, breath panting while he gazed over Devon. The calm nature of the wolf mesmerized him as it lay cloaked in ribbons of torn flesh. In the dream's progression, he was instantly standing, but before he could reach down to pull the wolf up, he was stopped halfway by an angry voice behind him.

"Don't you dare touch her," the voice commanded.

Rowland spun, grabbing the stranger who dared attempt to order to an Alpha wolf. In the surrealism of the dream, his powerful body was instantly human again, naked, grasping at the neck of this usurper. Lifting his challenger off his feet, the throat he had sought to dispatch was cold and clammy under the hold of his fingers.

Derricks once beautiful eyes were now dark, sunken into his decaying skin. As he looked down on Rowland, they were filled with contempt and anger. Rowland fell back, dropping Derrick's walking corpse and falling onto his knees, shrinking with terror.

"Anyone but her!" Derrick said, voice thundering across the balcony and shaking Rowland. "Anyone but my Devon. You took her away from me, you monster!"

Rowland's head hung low in shame as he shook it slowly back and forth. He rambled, "She was on the mainland with her father... Jesse made certain of it... She wasn't supposed to be there!"

" _He lies_ " The strange voice hissed again.

"NO! I would never have done this on purpose! Not to you my son." Nothing he said could change how desperate his words sounded. Somehow he had to find some way to appease Derrick's anger. He had to make him see it was the truth. "She must have taken a late ferry and have come straight to your home. You know that the family had to change in a safe pl- "

"I was so stupid to believe you and your lies," Derrick spat back, his voice bitter with loathing. "Not only did you steal away my humanity, but now you've stripped Devon of hers. She didn't even have a choice!"

" _Creature_ "

Rowland wept, unable to control his grief, or the humiliation ripping him apart. "I loved you as a father loves a son!" he cried, shuddering with his sobs.

Derrick dropped closer, crouching forward to take Rowland's face in his hands.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Rowland tried to regain himself, fighting back his tears. The Alpha's chest seized up with an aching pang of hope that tonight there would be a reconciliation.

As Derrick gazed into him, Rowland felt his words. "You tried to turn me into a monster," he said, dead eyes burning, "and now she too will be damned. It's all your fault. Everything you are, everything that's passed down with this infection, it's nothing but bullshit. All that you have given her is a curse, and when you die, you will rob Devon of her very essence."

Derrick stood, leaving Rowland on the ground to wash away Devon's blood with his tears. "This won't be the last time I call on you," he said finally, as he raised his hand, snapping his fingers in the air.

Rowland woke, bolting upright in the darkness, gasping for air. This was the fifth night in a row he'd awaken from this dream. The fifth night Derrick had come to punish him...

Chapter Seven

THE FORGETFUL GIRL

December 26th, 2010

Nothing quite illustrated the differences between the Seattle pack and the Island family as much as Orin's suit. Custom tailored, the grey and black wool designs were lavishly modern and equally expensive. It shimmered, light playing off of it to draw attention to his muscular physique. His beautiful wife Siobhan was draped gracefully over his right arm, a pencil skirt and fitted blouse hugging her every curve perfectly. Each step of her glossy stiletto heels echoed loudly against the floors, announcing her every move. Her body and dress appeared as more of an extension of his wardrobe than that of her individual personality. From the look of disdain on her face, it was clear how she felt about this entire trip. Orin merely smirked with the grin of a man who thought he held all the cards.

Mirroring his father's image, Vince followed obediently behind them. Their similar features, and the fact that his body would never surpass his father's age left the two looking more like twins than father and son. Vince's had more of an aggressive bearing, setting him apart from his father where Orin's every gesture seemed collected and his walk just as graceful.

Jesse followed them in; he had accompanied the small party after retrieving them up from the private landing strip. Of the Island pack, he was dissimilar from those in Victoria, enjoying a modern and lavish lifestyle. He was also the only one who could handle being alone in a car with them for the lengthy drive. Slipping through the door behind them, he silently headed towards the kitchen.

Rowland stood alone waiting in the entrance hall, clothed in his traditional attire of vibrantly colored cloth and armor, a heavy gold torc resting at his throat. His clothing paid homage to the rites passed down from Alpha to Alpha over the centuries, embroidered with a shimmering thread to tell the tale of his family and his specific lineage. Where the Vancouver pack members appeared more like glass and steel, Rowland's garb evoked images of the ancient forests which nurtured their ancestors.

Greeting them with a stoic expression, Rowland felt there was no point in pretending he had affections where there were none. These people were a branch of their family, and for that, he would retain proper customs, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it or even pretend to. Rowland was, after all, a man of duty.

Orin's forced smile grew wide as he appraised his surroundings with the critical eye of an investment realtor, a side profession he entertained in Vancouver as a sort of hobby. Everything Orin came across he regarded as a potential asset or benefit, and his expression suggested he found the house lacking in capacity. "Ahh, Rowland. I keep forgetting what a... rustic habitat you keep over here." With a firm grip, he placed his hand on Rowland's shoulder as he came alongside him, his face now pleasantly neutral. "You really should come to the mainland and see what more civilized people are doing this century," he said, smiling. "I could show you some amazing buildings available right in the heart of Vancouver. With modern security systems, the pack could live safely, without the need to drive into the middle of nowhere just to Change."

High above, dressed in a similar fashion to Rowland, Keryn appeared on the upper balcony. Her one hand was resting around the pommel of the sword at her side, as she looked down onto the main entrance with a cold gaze. The upsurge of animosity she brought with her emanated across the room, allowing Orin to spot her instantly. He lifted his face to greet her, "How lovely to see you again, my dear. You're becoming as beautiful as your enchanting _mother_." With am mock sadness his expression fell. "Oh that's right, it's a pity you never knew her."

Keryn's hand tensed around the sword's hilt, as she fought to keep her emotions in check. A whitening around her knuckles clearly showed her struggle, as her hands instinctively clenched tighter.

"Do you even know how to use that poorly-wrought stick at your side little pup?" Orin chuckled, "I hear your father won't even let you train. Let me tell you; there is no excuse for anyone in my pack not to be trained. I'll make you an offer right now, come back to Vancouver with us, and I will train you myself alongside my heir."

The look of disgust on Keryn's face was evident. Despite her voice being barely a whisper, the whole room heard as she breathed the words, "The Gods would need to strike me dead before I would willingly train with you."

"HA! Until that day, I think it's better for you to scamper back to your quarters before you hurt yourself." Turning back to Rowland, he continued, "See! Already I am teaching your younger members the value of being able to defend themselves. There is so much you could learn from a visit to Vancouver, to see how I run things there."

Rowland's expression darkened in a frown of disapproval; as he had expected, the strain of having to deal with these people already weighed heavily on his shoulders. Everyone in his pack had suffered occasions such as this and knew Orin seemed to take pleasure in infuriating them. The only thing to be done was to push on. Rowland looked again at the consistent expression of contempt coming from Siobhan, and the grin on Vince's smug face. The sooner he was rid of them, the better.

"Follow me, this conversation is best suited to take place in the council chamber," Rowland said, as he pushed open the heavy doors, leading them on into the circular room. As he passed under the balcony, he shot a meaningful look at Keryn. It was a mystery why she had insisted on being here for this, yet since she was, he needed her to fall in line and not let Orin antagonize her emotions any further.

As they entered the main hall, the Druid was already seated in his usual place, while Smith prowled along the wall behind him. Keryn remained along the upper balcony, unwilling to enter yet needing to hear what was said. Curiosity over Devon's fate won out over her desire to vent her frustrations in her room. With her dignity intact, she held back any tears she might be tempted to shed, unwilling to give Orin the pleasure of seeing the physical evidence of the pain his words had created.

Rowland motioned for everyone to seat themselves in the high stone chairs, as he took his rightful place at the head of the table beside the Druid. Sitting as near the exit as possible, Siobhan perched herself on the edge of a chair. Like an antique doll, her posture was perfectly straight. Vince chose to stand protectively behind his mother, while Smith took a similar stance at the back of the Druid's chair. Both guards were facing off at opposite ends of the room, protecting who they deemed most valuable. Once the others were seated, Orin took up directly opposite to Rowland. To a casual observer, it would have appeared that Orin was the one holding court.

Siobhan regarded Smith across the table, cocking her head slightly as though deciding whether a delicacy was worth devouring. It was the first time her eyes showed anything other than disdain since entering the house. "You look well, old friend," she taunted with a small smile.

His back stiffened, glowering back at her across the table. "Friends? Since the day you left this family, friends is something we will never be," he answered roughly.

"Oh come now, bitterness never weighs well over time," she said, though it was evident to everyone she wanted nothing more than to arouse old grudges.

Everything was proceeding like clockwork, Rowland had never understood the other pack's pleasure in such cruelty. This kind of repetitive banter was sadly unoriginal, and he knew that Siobhan was the only person who could genuinely undermine Smith's composure: knowing just what buttons to push. With a hand gesture and a meaningful look, Rowland signaled Smith not to allow the conversation to proceed. The situation was already fragile, and their heated exchange could shatter it beyond the point of mending. Rowland's family was burdened with enough tragedy, the last thing needed was Smith's loss of dignity eroding their morale. "Let us address the issue that has brought these two houses together," he began before anyone else could interject.

Orin interrupted immediately. "What, no further pleasantries?" he asked. "What happened to protocol? You are always such a gracious host, offering drinks and a toast to continued peace!"

The level of indignation that had been implied turned Rowland's stomach. Every visit, he would smile politely at Orin's condescension's, not out of submission, but for duty and laws since passed. Also, if he admitted it, there was still hope that one day, the descendants of these two families would be able to come together under one roof. "I feel it would be prudent to get on with business right away, this time," he answered with a slight bowing of the head. "We all know from the news that Derrick was killed during his transition to Alpha on the Solstice Eclipse."

"So you bit a little girl instead," Siobhan interrupted, chuckling. "Tragic, but no more than could be expected from the Alphas of your line." Obediently, Vince began to chuckle along with his mother.

This time, Rowland's instinct got the best of his manners, and he rose from his chair, growling and baring his teeth. Insubordination was something he did not suffer lightly, and her comments had crossed that line. Vince stepped forward, ready to intercept on his mother's behalf, the smirk on his face replaced with a fierce challenge of his own.

"Oh Rowland, you are so predictable," Siobhan laughed, as the Victoria Alpha struggled to regain control of his temper.

Orin lifted his hand, managing to seem somehow bored amongst the rising energy, as his son reluctantly desisted. "Tsk, tsk, do not let the truth hurt," he said, waving the finger of his upraised hand in Rowland's direction. "Really? A fragile, helpless girl? You won't even train that poor whelp of Smith's, and yet you think a girl can be your successor? You know as well as I do that biting a female with the purpose of making her into an Alpha is strictly forbidden."

Rowland sensed Smith bristling at the comment and spoke up before an argument could begin. " _I_ respect the choices made by members of _my_ family, and yes the Gods have been generous in giving her to us. I should clarify that last part. By _giving_ , I mean that I didn't bite her." Rowland responded bluntly, carefully returning to his chair. He took solace in watching the self-satisfied smile on Orin's face become rigid. Clearly, Orin had not heard the details of Devon's transformation, and this gave Rowland hope that this leverage was enough to keep the family from war.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Orin challenged his statement. "If you did not bite her, how did she come to be?"

"What I take you for is irrelevant. The girl transferred my saliva from Derrick's bite, into a wound that she suffered while I was dispatching the security guard. By the time I finished with him, she had already transformed."

Orin's demeanor turned cold and guarded. For once he was not prepared, this outcome had not been one he anticipated. Siobhan glanced sharply at her mate as she gripped the stone armrest tightly. She was aware that the upper hand might be slipping away, before Orin seemed to regain his nonchalant manner, still feeling that his position was reasonably secure.

"These petty details and talks of Gods are of no consequence," he replied with a dismissive gesture, "there still cannot be an Alpha female wolf leading your pack. It's our way and the way of our ancestors. As _you_ keep reminding me, we must abide by the ways of our ancestors." Licking his lips as though about to dive in for the kill, he continued, "Unless you are willing to break the treaty, and end our time of peace?" Orin leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table to glare at Rowland over his clasped hands.

A cold silence filled the room, as everyone held their breath waiting for the response. Rowland beamed at the suggestion of war, a sight that sent a tremor of unease through the visitors. It was clear this had been the goal for their visit, and now Orin's hand was tipped with such a bold statement.

"Again the Gods are _truly_ generous," he responded. "Lucky for us all, Orin, she is not a female wolf."

Orin's tenuous smile crumpled, eyes darkening. "Enough with these riddles!" he hissed. "Explain yourself."

"I'd be delighted to," Rowland answered with genuine enthusiasm. "It seems that the DNA of an Alpha carries not only memories and character traits but also the physical characteristics of the biting party as well. It seems that an Alpha male _wolf_ results in another Alpha male wolf, whether the recipient of the DNA transfer is female in the human state or not."

Orin and his party were shocked hearing this, too stunned to fall back on sarcasm or retaliate in any way. Siobhan became still as a statue, her face a mask of passive marble beneath her perfectly coifed hair. Vince appeared pale, looking to his parents for some clue on what to do next while his father blustered to recover the upper hand.

"I don't believe you." Orin hissed, hands fidgeting as though looking for a way to hold them steady. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that she is only female while human, and male as a wolf?" Looking back through his Alpha memories, he searched for some answer or hint that this was possible. Surely this was some form of trickery.

"I thought you might say that." Rowland pulled from his pocket his cell phone holding it up to eye level to Orin's face as he began to play the video footage taken of Devon's transformation just after Rowland released her from his outburst. This was something that surprised the members of his own family, but it was a card Rowland felt he needed to play. Even on the small screen, the details were unmistakable if one was looking for them.

"Well, well. This is fascinating, a very intriguing life form indeed, and unexpected, I might add." Orin's voice was barely a whisper, as though he had forgotten about everyone else in the room while watching. Mesmerized at the blood-soaked girl frozen on the screen as the video ended, his anger seemingly evaporated with this revelation.

"She is of my wolf form when she is changed, and therefore, still an appropriate candidate for a pack leader," Rowland assured them smoothly. After a moment to allow all of it to sink in, he continued, "So you see, no laws were broken by this pack. I did not bite a female with the intent of passing on the Alpha, and Devon is not a female wolf."

"Does the girl even know what she is? Does she know what you have robbed of her?" Siobhan broke out defensively.

Stunned, everyone turned to look in her direction.

Rowland had been enjoying his advantage of surprise, but now he was the one caught off guard by her question. "She... fell back into a deep sleep immediately after this. Being a new kind of Alpha, going through the change will be unique. As soon as she is conscious, she shall be trained and educated in our ways." The words sounded inadequate even to him, but he had no other explanation without risking everything. After all, if she was found unsuitable when she awoke... He stifled the thought. Now was not the time to dwell on what-ifs. Devon would be Alpha, and he needed to convince Orin of that.

"This is typical of your family legacy," Siobhan spat, even her mate regarded her with surprise. No one had expected her to take the side of the absent fledgling at all. Everyone gathered were baffled to see her do so with such conviction as she continued.

"You do know that she's going to see you as monsters. You took everything she ever cared about away from her, and you expect her to what? Just wake up and begin doing your bidding like a good little girl?" Her eyes blazed, confident in her own righteousness. "Women these days are not as subservient as you _men_ are used to."

Rowland opened his mouth to retaliate against her accusations. Instead, he closed his lips and took a deep breath. "The Gods have shown no visions or signs that they are displeased with the results of that night. Indirectly, she did this to herself. I have broken no laws since I did not inflict my bite on her, and she is _not_ a female wolf." Repeating his statement, Rowland wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself.

Siobhan's eyes began to well up. "Your Gods? They may not have spoken out against it... but they certainly did not foretell it. There are more than just your Gods to ask!"

The Druid watched her curiously as she grappled with her fury, trying desperately to regain her composure.

Orin affected a nervous laugh. "Oh, what a mother she is, her maternal instincts always sitting at the ready," he joked. The hard glance he gave her showed his disproval at this unsanctioned outburst. She met his eyes, and for a brief second, he was able to see the raw emotion behind them before her internal guards went back up. Siobhan often defied him, but she was always in full control. He watched as her face once more became the granite mask he was accustomed to.

What he saw unnerved him, and to cover his shock he turned his gaze back to Rowland. "I, for one, would very much like to see this new creation of yours." He gave his host an expectant look, knowing that this request was sure to make Rowland uneasy.

"Of course," came the only diplomatic response he could give. "That day will come after she has awoken from her sleep. Unlike a planned member who has been prepared, Devon must be eased into our world and her duties. Might I suggest that we host a ceremony to welcome our children on the neutral ground? If it pleases you, we could hold it in Devonshire, on the family lands?"

Orin grinned his approval more for Rowland's passive loyalty than for the arrangements themselves. "I always love an opportunity to travel. This would please me to no end to finally meet your new "son" when he... _she_ , is ready."

"Then it's settled." Rowland nodded, glad there would be no argument from Orin in regards to overseeing Devon earlier than he would have preferred. "Will you and your family be needing accommodations tonight? We have aired out and prepared quarters for you."

Still listening from the balcony above, Keryn gripped the banister hearing Rowland's offer. _No, no, no, no_. She silently pleaded.

Orin looked around the room, his lips pursed with an almost sour taste. "No, that won't be necessary," he answered. "I've think I've had enough of the country. We'll be taking our plane back to the mainland straight after this. Besides," he said, gloating, "my new son awoke last night, and will be in need of my guidance."

Rising from his chair, Orin signaled to all that he felt this meeting was over. His family slowly followed behind towards the double doors. "I hope your... creation – will be awake soon. You must let me know right away how she takes it."

Rowland rose, ushering his guests out. Opening the doors, a gust of wind blew through the entryway. The forest around them stood guard under the cloud covered sky. He inhaled deeply, the scent of earth, cedar, and pines calming his chaffed nerves.

Jesse, having eaten while everyone else talked, had snuck back outside and was already waiting in the car to take them home. Siobhan glanced back at Rowland, releasing one final glare before the group ushered its way out the door. Her son, dutifully trying to show his loyalty to his mother, silently bared his fangs towards the source of her discomfort. It was an immature gesture, like a child sticking its tongue out, and she quickly put a stop to it. Straightening her spine, she turned her back on those left in the hall. Rowland watched them retreat; the trio's sleek outfits matching the overcast sky, framed by the ancient oak doorframe.

In the distance, the final crunches of gravel under tires faded away, signaling their departure from the property line. Rowland returned to his pack mates in the stillness of the council chamber, each of them silent and alone with their thoughts. Even a short meeting such as this one drained his energy, a sigh of exhaustion escaped his lips.

Keryn had joined them, her arms wrapped tightly around her father, finally releasing the tears she had been holding back. The giant simply held her, the act of providing her comfort serving a dual purpose to soothe his rage. Unreadable as always, the Druid gazed off with his stoic expression.

No one wanted to be the first to voice their concerns, yet each of them was aware that the meeting had gone far too easy.

That evening within the darkness of the room, the Druid sat vigil, measuring the passage of time by the rise and fall of Devon's breath. This girl was a new curiosity in a long lifetime of impossible things; he wondered what might become of someone with such unforeseen beginnings. He watched her face, waiting for the right moment. She had slept peacefully during her transit from the safe house, and now his magic was ready for her; hopefully, she was prepared for it. It had been centuries since anything of this magnitude had happened to alter the balance of their lives, and those had been such difficult times...

Across from her supine form, Rowland leaned down to wrap both of his hands around her forearm with a firm grip. Deep inside her dream, her eyelids flickered: now was his moment. Clockwise the Druid stirred the oak branch round the stone bowl, centered in his lap. A dark mixture of half-congealed blood and herbs began to boil as the Druid spoke the words. Quiet at first, his chanting barely a whisper, growing in volume as he called upon his ancient arts. Leaning over the bedside, he lifted the wand above her, its tip now glowing like an ember in the dimness. With it, he traced several symbols down her forehead, his words willing the spell to penetrate deep into her slumbering mind. While the glow began to fade, the blood symbols began to sink their way into her skin, leaving not a trace.

Both of his withered hands shook with age and effort as the magic did its work. This level of enchantment pushed him to his limits, something he had not done in over a century.

The wait was short lived. After a few moments, the mixture resurfaced from the center of Devon's forehead, bringing the memories with it. It bubbled out black and thick, as it began to creep toward her eyes, looking for a way back in. He quickly stabbed at it with the wand, its end starting to smoke at the contact, igniting the creature into blue flame. Like a serpent defending itself, it fought back, thrashing about as it tried to find safety. In its effort the dark blood climbed onto the wood in ropey tendrils, burning as it went. Its reaction was just as the Druid wanted as he moved the wand from Devon and placed it against the bridge of Rowland's nose. It took its escape, gripping its way off the wood and into the sockets of each eye. He cried out as Devon's _fear_ , and _terror_ penetrated his conscious mind. His anguish didn't stop until every bit of pain subsided and only tears of reliving Devon's feelings of that night flowed across his cheeks. The Druid's chant grew softer as the blue light flickered and died until neither flame or tendril was left.

Half of the oak branch was charred black with burnt blood and cinder. The druid leaned away from Rowland snapping the branch in two. Both of the pieces were tossed into the stone bowl, as he carefully lifted it from his lap and placed it gently on her stomach.

Back and forth, his hands moved over the bowl while once more chanting, his pitch growing louder. Again, the blood began to boil, and an acrid smell filled the room. Devon's body shuddered and trembled, both sleeping girl and concoction responding to the rhythm of his words. Rowland let go of Devon as he held his hands tightly against the side of his temple as agony overtook him.

"Do not let go of the girl, that was only her emotions you took!" The Druid demanded.

Rowland forced his hands back, grasping onto Devon's arms and the spell began to peak; both side tables and bed began to lift and sway, sending objects skittering to the floor. The spell reached its climax, as the contents of the bowl erupted with brilliant flame in the darkness of the room. As her back arched and fell, so did the furniture against the floor. For a moment it seemed to be gone as quickly as it came. From out of the bowl, a snake of smoke trailing in the aftermath drifted its way toward Devon. Her actual memories were in search of a home and the emotions that were severed from it. Several inches from her mouth the snake found an invisible barrier; the Druid's magic blocking the way into its original host. Rowland screamed in waves of pain as his jaw opened, the snakes head turned sharply, rapidly moving to its new target. Into his mouth, the serpent of _memories_ slid, causing Rowland eyes to fill black. His arms tightened as his body lurched back against the foreign intruder. Rowland pulled the last of it in with a long gasping breath, releasing his grip on Devon's arm as he slid to the floor.

The bowl was vacant, and not even ash remained. In his now weakened state, the Druid was caught off balance as he promptly rose. Collecting the container into his hands, he made his way with frail movements to assist Rowland.

Tangled amidst her tears the afternoon was a strange elation she had not been expecting. Devon would stay. True to his word, Rowland had Devon brought to the main house in Sooke shortly after Orin had left. Since then, Keryn had found herself fidgeting and restless, spending her energy choosing the perfect room to air out and prepare for her arrival. Connor was careful but hadn't wasted any time bringing her to the house. Keryn hadn't managed to finish before Rowland, and the Druid had asked her to leave so they may perform the memory extraction.

Keryn had waited, just outside the door, listening to the Druid's chanting as he performed the memory extraction. She left clean clothes and fresh water on the tray beside her, ready for the moment the spell's completion. Not knowing what to expect, she considered getting some snacks as well. The Druid had said that this would be difficult, and she suspected he would need to rebuild his strength. Perhaps there was enough time for her to run to the kitchen to grab something...

A flash of light filled the hallway, spilling out from the door. Keryn peered around the corner trying to get a glimpse of what was going on, just in time to watch the furniture crash back to the floor.

Devon lay on her back, still dressed in the black sweatsuit from the safehouse. The blankets which had once been neatly folded had been kicked off the bed and the sheets around her a tangled mess. Seated on either side of her, both men seemed intensely focused on the strange smoke coiling out of a bowl on her stomach. As Rowland opened his mouth to receive it, Keryn gasped, turning quickly away and clamping a hand firmly over her mouth.

As the chanting subsided several moments later, her curiosity got the best of her, and once again peered in. Catching the Druid's eye, he gave her a nod of permission that it was safe to enter. She picked up the tray of provisions, and by the time she entered, Rowland was shakily getting to his feet. She noticed his hand bracing the chair as though to steady himself. Without hesitation, she offered him a glass of water as she wondered if the smoke had tasted as vile as it looked.

Dipping a cloth in the cold water, she began wiping sweat from Devon's brow. "I really hope she doesn't remember that awful day," she sighed. "Did it work?" She looked to Rowland, silently pleading it had.

"Yes," he closed his eyes searching. "I can see the memories and feel what Devon felt that night. There is no way she would let us in, not if we had left them intact." He sighed, his shame over his actions still present. Rowland didn't have the heart to tell Keryn that this was only a temporary fix. What was done was done, though, and at least now he had a second chance to repair the damage.

Turning back to Devon, Keryn tenderly wiped a stray hair off of her face. "Well, then this was the right decision. Now she'll have a chance to meet us properly." She began cleaning up the blankets from the floor, unfolding them to cover her patient.

Rowland merely nodded, his exhaustion from the day catching up with him. Without saying another word, he followed the Druid out of the room, seeking rest.

Over the next few days, Keryn spent every waking moment watching Devon as she slept, hoping to be there, to help her transition when she finally woke. Each day she would bring fresh water and use a cloth to wash her as best she could. Quietly she watched as her father fitted the bracelet around her wrist, officially tying Devon to the family. Hours passed as she regaled her sleeping patient with stories of their history, hoping that some of what she said would help ease Devon into her new life and prepare her for the role of Alpha.

Keryn knew that the choices made in the first forty-eight hours following her awakening would decide Devon's fate. She hoped that her presence here now, could influence those decisions and convince Devon to lead the family.

December 31st, 9:00 pm.

Keryn burst through the door to Rowland's office, her body vibrating with excitement. "Happy New Year, Rowland!" Unable to contain herself, she grinned. "She's awake! She's finally awake!"

Chapter Eight

ONLY TWENTY ONE

January 02, 2011

Although Devon always had a morbid taste for horror films, nothing had prepared her mind for this. Each part of her body refused to move, even Devon's thoughts and breath were frozen from the shock. Unable to tear her eyes away, Devon watched as the skin on Rowland's arm split; a sickening _splash_ -filled her ears as the wet mass fell to the floor. As a tremor coursed through her body, Devon felt as if she was falling; waking from a dream. A small gasp escaped while the gun slipped from her shaking grip. Rowland did not give it a chance to hit the ground, he stepped forward, catching the revolver with his bloody claws.

Claws. He has fucking _claws_. Devon's brain stuttered as it tried to catch up with what she was seeing. How did it come to this? Devon had returned to Derrick's apartment to get the gun and say her goodbye's before heading into Sooke. A mission to retrace her steps and hunt down the assholes responsible for this. Instead, now she was silently gaping at one of them, still unable to fathom everything she was seeing.

Instead of backing away to the door, Rowland remained in front of her, looking her in the eyes. "Take it." His voice was steady and reassuring as he held the gun out in his open palm.

Glancing from Rowland's face to his claws, and back again, she tried to figure out what to do. The gun was the only thing that gave her a feeling of safety, and in her state of shock, she had lost it. Carefully she reached out, keeping her eyes fixated on him as she gingerly plucked the weapon from his paw. There was no movement made by him, Rowland stood perfectly still, as though he were coaxing a nervous pup to eat from his hand. A webbing of sticky residue smeared along her fingers as she grappled with the gun, jumping back away from his reach.

"I realize this has not been the best way for us to be introduced to each other. Yet I can promise you; there is nothing to fear from me."

Everything changed, his words were nothing but air to her ears. Devon's nose had caught his musky scent, the same one she associated with the worst night of her life. The smell coming from the gun intensified as if it were some sick joke taunting her. Devon remembered how that smell tainted the air while Derrick lay dying in her arms. It pulled her mind out from its protective state and directly into an instant hatred for Rowland.

Without hesitating she lifted the gun, pinning the barrel against his chest. " _You_ did this! You killed Derrick, you son of a bitch! How dare you stand here, with your bullshit words and your smug look? You killed them both, and then you tried to kill me!" There was nothing in his expression, no attempt to deny her accusations, a calmness that only angered her further.

Devon winced as her arms began to shake violently. Just like in the bathroom, a heat coursed through her body. It felt as though her blood was laced with slivers of glass, pinpricks of pain slithering inside her veins. Despite the chill in the apartment from the broken balcony door sweat broke out across her forehead. "What's happening to me?" she gasped.

Rowland reached forward, reclaiming the gun from Devon in her now panicked state. She fought to breathe through the pain, desperate to hold on to her safety net after getting it back from him once already. The blood and mucus let it easily slide out of her grasp as her fingers refused to obey her mind. He tossed it gently onto the chair behind him. "Devon you have to stop this!" Rowland grabbed onto her upper arms with his one human hand and the other his transformed paw.

Something inside Devon broke as his claws touched her. Every instinct she had to be cautious of him was overshadowed by surging anger. Both of her arms pulled up and through his, twisting out to break their grasp, giving her a moment to grasp his. Drawing his body towards her with a swift upward motion she lifted her right foot, impacting his crotch and causing Rowland to pitch forward; head slightly bowed as she kneed him hard in the face with her left while pushing down on his head. Devon's hit sent him flying backward, knocking over the chair. Her body worked instinctively, faster than she could think. Each leg bent into a crouch while Devon's eyes found their target; springing forward she landed on him hard, pinned Rowland to the ground. Devon began an onslaught of punches against Rowland's face.

The assault seemed to unlock something in him, and for the first time, his calm demeanor broke. Rowland grabbed her hands at the wrist, pushing her fists away from his face. An uncontrolled snarl came out before he began shouting at her.

"You think you're blameless in all of this? You weren't supposed to be there? This gift was meant for Derrick, not you!" In his rage, he shook her forcefully. "Why couldn't you have listened to him and just stayed away? He would be alive, and that security guard would be home with his wife and child." His voice broke slightly, "The blood from my mouth is equally on your hands."

There was truth in his words that struck through to her. Beyond his anger, she could hear remorse which she had not been expecting. Devon pulled away, breaking free of his grip as she made an attempt for the door.

Rowland grabbed her ankle causing her to fall forward onto the floor. "I can't let you leave, not like this." He pulled her back, sliding her beside him, taking hold of her arms once more.

"Don't touch me!" She kicked out his leg, rolling him over onto his back. Both of Devon's hands pushed towards Rowland's throat as he struggled to hold her back. Pain resurged through her, localized in her arms and giving her the strength to wrap her hands around his neck. Snarling, she focused on the pain, using it to fuel her determination. Each finger intensely burned as they began to split apart, tears raced up her arms causing her skin to bulge; ripping apart the fabric of her jacket. Out from the bottoms of her sleeves, blood cascaded through the shredded material and across the back of her hands.

Rowland's eyes widened in panic as the blood poured down his neck. "Devon"... he choked out, trying to warn her. "You have...to stop...you could _kill_ someone."

The blood and his statement amplified her fear and confusion; these two aspects now overtook her rage. Devon released him; her legs moved her backward until she stopped sitting upright from Rowland. Fear turned to panic as she realized what was happening. She could see the small tears split across her hands and fingers as blood oozed out from the skin.

Rowland scrambled to his knees, gasping. His hands reached out, stopping just before he grabbed her shoulders, remembering what happened before. Instead, he used his words, his calm voice attempting to bring her terror down between her gasps for air. "Devon, you must calm yourself, _please_. Your emotions are causing you to change. You can stop it, but you must still your mind. _Breathe_." He inhaled deeply, motioning for Devon to do the same. "Breathe with me, Devon. Just breathe," he continued to coach her, his voice becoming a soft monotone and his words paced out as though he was leading a meditation.

Devon inhaled gasps of air deeply; her mind whirled as she tried to ground herself in what was happening. It was evident that Rowland had not injured her in their struggle. This pain was coming from underneath her cracking flesh, throbbing deep with pressure. In a silent scream her eyes brimming with tears, her mouth stretched open as she bore witness to horror in front of her. Black and pointed, several claws began to break through her fingertips. Each casing of skin around her digits peeled back, dropping away from the human flesh and exposing her black clawed hands.

Without hesitation Rowland took Devon's face with his hands, forcing her eyes to lock onto his. "You can change them back. Devon, you can make them human again. I need you to focus on me and do not look at them. If you fully turn, innocent people could be hurt, and I know you wouldn't want that. Please...do _not_ do what I did the night Derrick died."

Her head nodded, this last admission was what she needed to hear.

"Just keep breathing, take in deep breaths through your nose and out through your mouth. Close your eyes and envision your human hands and how the skin felt among them. Concentrate on slowing down your heart rate."

Devon hesitated before closing them. It was difficult to trust him, but she did not want to become like him either. She filled her lungs slowly with air, exhaling through her mouth. Her racing heart slowed as she concentrated on feeling the air stretch her lungs before she slowly released it. She felt Rowland's hands drop away from her face, while her arms began to tingle as they repaired themselves.

"You can open your eyes now."

Devon looked out upon her new skin, blood-soaked and shining. They were human and upon the carpet, the fur that was once there was dissolving away into piles of liquid. Their conversation played across in her mind. _This gift was for Derrick. Why couldn't you have listened to him and just stayed away?_ Her tears welled up, as she looked over into Rowland's eyes.

"I was pregnant," she whispered. "That's why...That's why I was there." the words choked off in a sob as the tears now streamed down her cheeks.

"I...I'm sorry." This was not enough, and Rowland knew it, but they were the only words he could stammer out.

Devon wept openly. She no longer cared that Rowland sat watching in his own grief-stricken silence.

After a moment, Rowland began to speak. "We can't stay here. We would be lucky if our struggle went unnoticed."

It took a moment before Devon's tears subsided, and her mind began to clear. She didn't want to look at him and kept her gaze upon Rowland's exposed claws. Thinking he was part of a cult or conspiracy was crazy enough, but this was unthinkable. Whatever kind of monster he was, he wasn't trying to justify laying the blame on her any longer. Still, she couldn't look past that he killed the man she loved and somehow turned her into this creature.

"What am I?" she whispered; mouth salty with the taste of tears.

Rowland crouched before her as he lowered his voice, any sign of fight had fully drained away. "If you come back to the house with me, I promise that everything will be explained to you. Our window here is short, and leaving you here by yourself would be an unwise move. It will take you time to master your change, and I can't risk your emotions getting the better of you; you've seen what can happen."

The shock of her partial transformation might have subdued Devon, but she also knew that she had nowhere left to go. Going to her father's was a card not on the table. This nightmare was a game she did not know how to play, and Rowland was the one who held the rule book.

He lifted her bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder before offering his still human hand to help her up. Devon accepted and knew by taking his hand there would be no turning back.

"Are you ready?" Rowland asked her.

"One last thing." Down the hall, she headed to the bedroom to retrieve a photo from the nightstand. At the time this was her least favorite photo that Derrick had taken of them. In it they had just woken up, hair disheveled, still curled in the blankets. He loved it, the night before he called off their relationship, Derrick told her that it reminded him of a time when he was free of the world. The context of his words had been lost until now. She kept it close, as with her apartment, Devon knew she wouldn't be coming back here again.

There were no words exchanged on the sixty-minute ride back to Sooke. Instead, she reflected on the heated exchange that happened again in the apartment. Could it have been her fault that Derrick and Jackson were dead? Maybe if she hadn't gone back to the island, they would still be alive? How did Derrick fit into all of this?

Just past the sign welcoming them to Sooke, Devon ran her hand up and down her forearm. Aside from the dried crusts of blood, her skin was smooth and soft; void from any signs of what happened earlier. Was this what happened to her missing tattoo?

Her head began to ache in the sea of questions. All she could do was dab the tears away with the arm of her jacket as they formed. Devon was sick of crying and tired of the circular conversation looping through her mind. Hopefully, she would receive the answers that had been promised and make some sense to this nightmare.

The silence of the drive back also gave Rowland time to think about his next steps, and how precarious their family's position was. It gave him hope that even after her outburst, the last thing the girl wanted was to harm anyone. This reaction was a good sign that the mixture of Alpha wolf and alpha personality had not turned her rogue.

The raw emotions she showed as she explained her pregnancy had unnerved him. He knew his response had not been sufficient, but in the face of such pain, his grief at the loss of his heir seemed to pale in comparison. Emotional consoling was something better handled by Jenn or Keryn. Surely they would be better at comforting her. Mentally he added it to his growing checklist of things that needed to be done to help ease Devon into the family.

It was evident that she was still angry and hurting deeply, but she seemed to want more of an explanation. Rowland was hopeful that the pieces of his plans were falling into place. After all, he didn't need her to befriend him, or even like him. He just needed for her to not consider him an enemy for long enough for her to take his place.

Closer to the Sooke potholes Rowland finally broke his silence. "We are almost home."

_We_ ; this one single word uttered during the drive told her volumes.

North of the potholes, Rowland turned at a decaying wooden post. Its number was too worn from weather and age to read, leading along a dirt road with no official street sign.

_God, it's like something out of Deliverance_ , she thought, as the low hanging branches scratched against the roof of the SUV.

About ten minutes in, far from the road, they came upon a clearing that contained the main grounds. There hadn't been much of a chance to see everything that night since Devon believed she was running for her life across the field just to her right. Yet in the light of day, the sheer size of the house astonished her. Over her left shoulder, she glanced at Rowland, remembering just who she had been fleeing. _No turning back now_ , she thought.

The house was reminiscent of a small European castle with rough log beams, extensive stone pieces, and massive glass windows. A strange feature that Devon had never witnessed before was that the house was built directly into the side of a hill; looming several stories over the clearing. Bright moss clung to the horizontal surfaces, cutting a green path between the gray of the rocks and the overcast sky.

As they pulled up, Rowland stopped the car just outside the two doors that led into the house. "Do you need a minute before we go in?"

"You could say that. I'm going need some answers before I agree to go in there with you," she replied.

"Fair enough, ask away."

Devon was surprised, expecting some sort of refusal instead. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, she turned to look him square in the eye. "What's the deal here? Will I be locked in a room again? I came here on my own free will to find answers, and I refuse to be treated like some kind of prisoner."

Rowland gripped the steering wheel looking forward out the window; the only movement made was the slight nodding of his head. She could tell he was only now deciding the terms of her return, as he assessed her questions.

"You were never meant to be a prisoner that night," he finally said. "Devon this is your home now, once you know your way around, no access shall be denied to you. The only stipulation I have is that you will not to go into town, not _yet_."

How could she not be mistrusting after everything that had happened? Whether she was still in danger or a danger to herself, Devon nodded. "Fine."

"You won't find answers sitting out here in the car," he said, opening his door. "Keryn, who you met before, is waiting inside the council room with her father and the Druid.

"I don't really have a choice in this, do I?" Devon had realized on the beach that morning that no matter where she went all roads would lead back here.

"No," he answered bluntly, stepping out onto the gravel path. "You saw what happened at Derrick's."

"I just need a moment." She let Rowland go toward the house as she flipped down the mirror to assess her appearance. Thankfully her eyes were no longer red and puffy from crying, and her hair was easily fixed with minor rearranging. Devon licked the back of her hand, wiping away the last bits of dried blood from her cheek. With her game face on, she was ready to present herself with as much confidence as she could drum up. Fear wasn't an option in the face of potential adversaries. All that mattered were the answers, and she was ready for whatever they might be.

Outside the truck, Rowland stood to wait for her, patiently holding the door open. Above them, a drizzle had started, typical for this time of year. It wasn't raining hard enough for Devon to get wet, but it did bring to life the rich scent of the spongy moss all around her. Head held high, she walked past him with all certainty, behaving as though this was her interrogation and not the other way around.

Inside, it was hard not to be overcome by the exquisite beauty of the main entrance. Everything Devon's eyes gazed upon was like being transported into another time in history. This house was worlds beyond any of the places she has been fostered as a child or seen as an adult.

To her right, a large staircase ascended along a curved wall, up onto a balcony overlooking the room. Its banisters each crafted from polished oak, and its spindles were thin panels, all created with meticulous detail. She wondered whether they were carved by someone who lived here, assuming that they were due to the secrecy she had witnessed so far. Elegant floor to ceiling tapestries covered the walls of the spacious foyer, each held stories of battles and ancient landscapes. Devon shuddered. Pinpricks of gooseflesh ran up the back of her neck, followed by a strange sense of déjà vu. Enough to disorientate her mentally, but not enough to show any other outward signs of being affected. Devon didn't need to look over to know that Rowland would be watching her every move.

Recessed under the balcony were two large doors, both elaborately carved like the spindles along the railing. Despite being impressed, Devon focused on making sure that her game face did not falter as Rowland pulled the doors open so that she could enter.

Inside, above the council room, was a domed glass ceiling that let the outside light fill the space. Nestled between grand tapestries were ledges sticking out of small alcoves, all displaying large metal candle holders, for when night would come. Around the middle, she could see several stone chairs set around the center of the floor.

Devon was left standing in the middle of the room as Rowland made his way across to the furthest chair. Three additional people stood at attention, taking their places only when Rowland had taken his seat. To his right, the imposing bearded man sat, followed by the others. How could she forget meeting this giant man the night she first awoke in this house? Nothing about his attitude had changed. Just as before, he sat there assessing Devon with his arms crossed, glaring across at her. The slender girl she had met the night she awakened, Keryn, smiled shyly. The friendliness in her eyes alleviated some of the animosity Devon could sense from whom she assumed was the girl's father. It gave her comfort seeing Keryn again. She was also relieved not to be the only woman in this meeting.

By Rowland's left was a face that filled her with conflicting emotions that she didn't fully understand. The old man's intricately woven braids hung down, spilling over his lap and down the side of his chair. Devon found herself frightened yet drawn to him; his intensity stemmed from something more otherworldly. Unlike Keryn's father, this man was surrounded by hidden mysteries. After several seconds Devon finally realized that this was the man who startled her in the window the night of her escape. His eyes held the same detached stare, their paleness and the way they drifted off the things around him made her wonder. Was it possible that he could no longer see? If so, it would be something Devon would treat delicately. By his age and title of Druid, Devon knew that he held great importance amongst them.

"Hello again." Keryn broke the silence in the room with a smile and wave.

Devon returned the gesture, remembering how timid and kind the girl had been at their last meeting. Knowing what she did, there was no doubt that the girl had been truthful when she claimed that she could not divulge any information that night. Her original assumption that the girl was some brainwashed prisoner of this group had somewhat changed. Keryn was a girl born and raised here, but was that any different? Time would answer that question.

Never one to enjoy uncomfortable silences, Devon broke in, establishing her ground by hitting them with a question first. "I came here to find out what the hell is going on. So, which one of you wants to go first?"

To Devon's surprise, it was the Druid that first to answer. As if to bring his words closer, he leaned forward gracefully to address her. His voice was soft; its resonance harmoniously seeped into her as he spoke. "This is your new home child, and we are your new family."

"My family? That's a stretch. What family takes you captive and locks you up against your will?"

"The one that seeks to protect you from yourself. We are small in numbers, but we are the only family who will accept you for who you are and what you forever will be."

"I have a father." Devon was not going to let them forget of her clan of two. "His name is Mark, and he would accept me no matter what I am."

"Your father and the rest of the world have believed you to be dead since the night of the accident. When you first shed the remnants of your human skin, you also shed your former life. This physical release is the only time your skin remains intact. At least as much as it can, when it was torn from your body by the change." The Druid raised his head, the long hair framing his face like a cowl. Those eyes she once thought were sightless pierced into her; how wrong she had been. Her mind flashed back to an old photo of the Russian mystic Rasputin and how his eyes seemed to burn through time right off the page. That paled in comparison to staring into the eyes of the Druid; feeling as though his gaze was searing her very soul. His intensity unnerved her, and yet she could not look away.

Rowland spoke next, breaking the momentary spell. "It should have been done in privacy, here in the house. It is the only time evidence of our change is left for mortal eyes, and unfortunately, yours was left behind. The police have only been looking for the rest of you, your corpse since no human can survive without their skin. Devon, you must leave your father to mourn," he said with a touch of sadness in his voice. "He cannot know about your new life."

"Why? Why can't he?" She protested.

"Because if he did, you would be forcing the same awareness of reality onto him that was forced onto you." Rowland took a moment to clarify himself. "Human beings are not ready to have their sciences or their religious beliefs taken away from them. If the general public found out about us or what we can do, it could bring war and devastation beyond anything you've experienced in your short span of years. Beyond anything in human history." His voice grew stronger with emphasis. "If your father knew, he would have to join this family."

"Or?" asked Devon

"We have our ways, and unfortunately, death is one of them. These are not just about protecting this family; it's about preserving the balance of society."

Devon had no doubts that Rowland believed what he was saying. "You keep talking about human beings as if there is a difference. I'm still a human being." She couldn't see how this small group of people could be as important as they made themselves out to be. The things she had seen so far had astonished and confused her, but there had to be some rational explanation for it all.

"We aren't human beings, Devon. Not anymore."

She raised a skeptical brow... "We're not.... okay, so then what are we?"

Keryn chose her answer as delicately as she could. "The modern term is werewolves."

_Werewolves?_ The word lingered for a moment in the air, _was she serious?_ Devon looked over at Keryn, unsure whether to laugh or lose her composure. There was a limit to what she could take and right now, Devon was in no frame of mind for jokes. Instead, she waited quietly letting her skeptical expression say it all.

It was apparent to Devon that the girl felt foolish in her description.

Now that she had said it, Keryn quickly struggled to explain herself before Devon decided to walk from the room. "Well, obviously not the kind you see in the movies. We're not savages without some form of conscious choice."

Smith grunted with disgust as he looked Devon over, finally deciding to take his place in the discussion. "Those kinds of wolves are put down like rabid dogs. We do not allow abominations such as those a chance to breathe." He said as he scowled at Devon.

Keryn rolled her eyes at her father's void of tact to an already tense moment.

Rowland cleared his throat giving Smith a look of warning. "What Keryn is trying to say is that those tales and legends were based on us, or at least part of them.

"So you are telling me that I'm a werewolf? You are all werewolves?" She looked into Rowland's eyes hoping for him to give her something legitimate to work with, something that could make sense of the information she was being offered.

"You saw my arm transform. _You_ began to transform Devon..."

"What?" Smith looked angered as he pulled his weapon.

"Stand down!" Rowland roared, lifting his hand to Smith. "Partially. She was able to repress her transformation and change back. Devon, look at me; your mortal way of thinking is trying to shield you from the truth. You must look inside. What we are telling you is the truth, all you need to do is release the doubt you are struggling with and see it for what it is."

"Then explain why it happened in the middle of the day? I thought werewolves only changed on the full moon?"

"Alpha Wolves are different. Alphas are the leaders of a family, and _we_ are the only kind that can change at will."

"We?" Devon asked.

"Yes, you and I. That night, during the eclipse when I... injured you. My saliva from the initial bite must have transferred into your wound."

Devon could feel her pulse rising as she relived the panic and pain of that terrible night. Still emotionally wrung out from their earlier encounter, she was grateful that Rowland was skirting around mentioning Derrick's death. On top of everything else being discussed, her grief was still fresh and unresolved. Dignity was all she had against them now, and anything about Derrick would provoke tears in front of these people, something she was struggling to avoid.

"What does that even mean? That I'm supposed to _lead_ a family of..." she still struggled with the word, "werewolves?!" No one spoke, each set of eyes around the room looked at her offering no contradiction to her question. "I can't lead a family of werewolves...Jesus, I had a life before all of this happened, I'm twenty-one for christ's sakes.

"No," Rowland began to speak. "Not _a_ family, Devon. You were chosen to lead this family when I am gone."

There it was. Devon stared at the four faces across from her. Each reflecting back how they felt about this, but none of them denying it. No one was going to jump out and disclose this whole thing as some elaborate hoax. Derrick was dead, these people are werewolves, and she is somehow expected to lead them.

Why couldn't it be a psychotic break? That would be a more natural thing to accept than this. Rowland was right; Devon saw herself change with her own eyes. Nothing about that sight could be denied or explained away.

"Gone? Wait, what do you mean gone?" she asked. "Decided it was time for a vacation? A little getaway to ease your mind after killing my boyfriend?" Moments ago, she was grateful that he avoided the subject, and now here she was, displaying the elephant in all its anguish. Not just displaying it, but wielding it to regain the upper hand as she watched the grief flicker across Rowland's eyes. If Devon was expected to acknowledge this reality and its truth, then to hell with it, she thought. This man was part of the reason Derrick was dead, and there was no way of avoiding that fact. Why does he get to evade ownership of his actions in front of the people judging Devon based on hers?

Rowland glanced away from her as though her words had physically struck him. "We spoke of this in anger already, let us not repeat that conversation now. Derrick wasn't supposed to die; this is a tragedy that everyone in this room has suffered. Not just you."

"Even if I believe you, and what I saw today, it doesn't matter. You have the wrong girl for the job. Besides, if you created me, why not just make another Alpha and they can take my place?"

Rowland looked at her with a hint of distress while his brow furrowed, searching for his answer. As he shifted forward in his chair, Devon could tell by his look that he had placed all his bets on her.

"It's complicated. There are only certain time's that an Alpha can be created. If it were that simple, do you think we would even be having this conversation?"

"Complicated? I think we are beyond complicated," she reminded him.

"You're right, we are. It was two years' prior that the Druid had his first vision of Derrick, something this family has been waiting a long time for. Also in that vision, he saw that lunar eclipse falling on the winter solstice alongside our Yule celebrations combined with the annual fire festival."

"Fine, unravel the hocus pocus and go bite someone else on the next solstice."

Keryn gave her a look of sympathy. "We can't just make it happen whenever we want to, this kind of vision only happens every three hundred and fifty years, give or take. There is a lunar eclipse on the winter solstice coming up again, but not for a while."

"Oh yeah? And that would be when?" Devon asked.

"Eighty-three years from now...sorry, I guess that's not very helpful." She trailed off with a nervous smile.

Although she knew Keryn was only trying to help in her own awkward way, Devon looked at her as if she were speaking in tongues.

"I told you, this gift you received was intended for Derrick. We took great lengths in preparing him for what's to come," Rowland cut in with a touch of impatience.

"Wait, back up here. Are you saying that Derrick knew about all of you?' She shook her head in disbelief. "No, no...that's not possible. Derrick would have told me. We shared everything together!"

"He was forbidden to divulge that information to you, or anyone else for that matter," Rowland said. "We as a family had come to an agreement. At a later time, he would bring you into the family as his mate. There are protocols in place that must be followed."

"Oh, you two decided that, did you? He broke up with me. What's to say I would have taken him back? And what if I had said no to him? Would you have used one of your ways and killed me? Or would I be where I am now? Standing here, being told that I have no choice but to accept it? That's a pretty fucked way to go around finding _your_ mates." Devon reeled slightly, realizing as the words tumbled out of her mouth that Derrick _had_ broken up with her, "So is that why he called things off with me so close to the full moon, part of your protocols?"

"Derrick decided it was the best way to keep you safe and out of range while he transformed. He believed that after he changed he would be able to persuade you to come back to him. We are not monsters Devon. The way we are created takes a lot of planning. On top of a unanimous acceptance from the members of this house and full acceptance from the person in question. During that time if you had said no, we could have removed the memories of the time spent here and returned you to your human life."

" _My memories?_ " Devon looked at the ground, calculating the numbers in her head. _Eleven days_. "Wait, is that why I can't remember anything before I woke up here in that room?" Devon's voice began to rise, trying desperately to quell her fear. "Jesus Christ, you took my memories? What the hell did you people do to me?"

Keryn looked aghast, shaking her head. "I was there the night you woke up, I swear nothing was done to you. You came to, changing from wolf to human. It was awful, you were covered in blood and severely traumatized by the sight of it. You were awake for 30 minutes, tops; the rest of the time you were sleeping." Her eyes were full of sorrow.

"None of this adds up, how could I be sleeping for that many days?" Devon's mind struggled with this information; she was not ready to process the idea of her memories being violated.

"It's just a natural response to the change, nothing sinister," she explained. "Your body and the new DNA have to finish merging, rebuilding the human into the wolf. It's a complicated process that we don't fully understand. I made sure you were clean and comfortable the entire time. I promise nothing perverted happened; I made sure you were treated with our full respect."

As well thought out as her explanation may have sounded, Devon was not ready to let go of the anger she felt from having her mind violated. Not wanting to release it on Keryn, the only person here who had shown genuine concern for her, Devon turned her focus towards her father. The man had hardly spoken, yet did not attempt to hide his vexed disposition as he kept his eyes fixated on her every movement.

"Ok, what's your story?" she asked irritably. "You've been pretty quiet so far, sitting there giving me the stink eye. Your hand hasn't left that weapon since I arrived; scared of a little girl?"

The giant merely grimaced. She could see his knuckles whiten slightly as he gripped the leather handle of his war hammer, and then deliberately released it to cross his arms. After a short silence, she could tell that he had no intention of responding to her question.

Keryn bit her lip with an embarrassed smile. "This is my father; he's not normally this inhospitable."

"Yeah, I'm still trying to process that one," she said. "So, why the anger towards me old man? I haven't even talked to you before, so what gives you the..."

"I don't trust you," Smith cut her off, appearing as though he would like nothing more than to rise to her challenge and put her in her place.

"Well, that feeling is mutual, so I guess we're even." Devon crossed her arms, mimicking his pose and returning his glare.

"Oh, I haven't even begun to make this even. Alphas are created from betas, like your boyfriend who should be standing here. You, on the other hand, are something forbidden to be created."

"Smith!" Rowland snapped, but his bark was too late.

"Forbidden to be created? So I'm nothing but a massive fuck up for you?"

Rowland sighed, clearly hesitating at delving into this topic. "What Smith means, is that I am forbidden when creating a new Alpha to bite someone who is an alpha personality type. In our past, an Alpha was made with an aggressive bloodline, and the results were detrimental to our kind and the countless human lives that followed. This mix, let his lust for war and power cloud his reason; unable to be tamed. Fifteen hundred years ago both families created a treaty to make sure that this type of Alpha never rules again. These rules have kept us alive and hidden for over two thousand years."

Learning about these elaborate stories was astonishing. How could these people have existed since the dark ages and never been caught? No matter what happened in their past, she was confident on one point. "That's not the kind of person I am. Nothing inside my mind has changed since the night you attacked me, especially not the thirst for blood or war."

"So you expect us to believe that you would not seek revenge, then?" Smith snorted with condescension as he stood up from his chair. Never mind her belief in werewolves, Devon would have an easier time believing that this man descended from giants. Something in his eyes gleamed as they focused on her face. He challenged her, stabbing his finger in the air towards Rowland. "That man sitting there killed your lover and stripped you of being with your father, and that hasn't fueled any thoughts of vengeance?" Within a couple of strides, Smith had cleared the room, looming over her as he huffed angrily into his beard; waiting for her answer.

"Well, come on." His voice taunted her. "Where are your thoughts of retribution? You must feel like ripping us all apart for what we've taken from you. No one would fault you for it."

Devon took one step in towards him, muscles flexing for a fight; she fixated on him with an unwavering stare. Of course, she felt all of those things and more. In her bag was a loaded gun, which Devon intended to bring here and use to get answers for this madness. Her fingers itched to pull it out and point it in his smug face. After all, Smith was right. Rowland _had_ killed Derrick and Jackson. Didn't justice demand for someone to be punished?

With a deep breath, she held her place. After everything she had witnessed, no matter how tempting that path may be, she knew it wasn't that simple anymore. Still, she wasn't going to give Smith the satisfaction of taking such a baited discussion. In every new foster home there was always one person like him; a bully — someone resenting her presence or marking their territory by drawing lines in the sand. Lines Devon was never afraid to cross. Werewolf or not, Smith was all too human in this regard.

Before she could respond, the doors of the council room opened. Smith's eyes flickered away from her towards the interruption causing his scowl to grow deeper. While she had not taken his bait to act in vengeance, she also had not lost ground. Experience and instinct told her that this was not the last time Smith would challenge her.

Devon turned from her stare-down, wondering what, or who else she would need to confront today. In through the doors sauntered a slim young man whom she immediately recognized from the day before. He was the same young man who had helped catch her bag while fleeing down the fire escape from her old apartment. Her mind numbed in the overwhelming sensation that she was reaching her limits for what she could face today. "You?" was all she could muster at the shock of seeing him amongst these people.

"Well I see you've met Smith," he smirked. "Getting along nicely, I trust? His hospitality skills always give me the warm fuzzies."

Smith snorted through his nose as he returned to his chair. The moment to rile Devon into a frenzy was spoiled.

While she was thankful that his interruption had sent Smith back into his corner, she wondered what he was doing here.

Rowland smiled for the first time, "I see you two have met then."

Devon had a sense that Rowland was just as happy for the intrusion as she was.

"Well, how could anyone forget a wildly romantic encounter in a back alley downtown," the newcomer joked.

"You wish." Devon's laughter sounded a little hysterical even to herself, as she quickly fought to get a hold of her nerves. There was no way that this was a coincidence. She could think of only one explanation for why this guy was here, which meant that she had been under surveillance the entire time she had been out of this house. No wonder Rowland found her so quickly.

His grin flashed across to Devon. "Sorry sweetheart, as I already explained it to you, you're just not my type. If you get my drift?" After waving his eyebrows at her in response to his suggestion, he turned and presented himself to Rowland. With an obviously sarcastic and over the top manner, he gave an extravagant bow. "I hope you don't mind that I crashed the party. From what I could hear outside, it seems to be going better than I expected."

Rowland was in no mood for insolence, as his smile fell. "Attendance lacking or not Jesse, you are part of this family, and your voice here matters."

The young man turned to her, winking. "See? We're family now, even if you _were_ my type. It would be like incest or something, which is illegal, and frankly, not my bag."

"Big surprise, you're a werewolf too?" She said, sarcasm coming quickly to her despite the fact that her head was spinning.

"Ta-da," Jesse sang, theatrically waving his hand in the air.

"Isn't anyone on this island just a regular person anymore? Next, you're going to tell me that the barista at the coffee shop is secretly a werewolf as well!" Her limit had been reached, and her composure along with it. This meeting was turning into a circus, with her being the freak everyone comes to gawk at. She had come for answers and now found herself unsure if she believed them. Devon needed time away from this room, these people, and time to figure out what her next move would be. "I'm out," Devon turned her back to the group, retreating towards the entrance.

As her hand lifted for the door handle, it began to open. Another man stood on the threshold; his eyes fixed on hers. He was tall and distractingly handsome; Devon couldn't help but smile as their paths intersected. His gray eyes shifted past her face, while the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end from the energy coming off of him. Without blinking, he pulled a small sword from his belt, and in a graceful motion slid forward around her; shielding her body with his. Devon turned to see what prompted the stranger: from across the room, Smith was heading in her direction with his hand gripping the war hammer behind his broad shoulders.

Rowland rushed out into the middle, intercepting the two men with his hands raised in each direction. "ENOUGH!" he shouted.

The wave of Rowland's roar shook Devon where she stood. Both men lowered their weapons and slightly bowed their heads.

Rowland continued. "Devon, we are not finished talking about this."

The stranger looked back at Devon. "Are you okay?" His voice was soft, full of concern. Devon found herself gazing up at him; he was taller than she was, with broad shoulders. The sword was still gripped in his right hand, lowered, but not sheathed. He seemed to be waiting for her answer before fully standing down.

It struck her that he had not hesitated in coming to her defense, willing to go up against an established family member to protect her. It hadn't occurred to her until now just how valuable she had become to these people. As Rowland had said, if he could make a new Alpha, then she wouldn't be here having this conversation.

Devon nodded at the stranger before addressing Rowland. "I need some air, okay? _This_ is all just a little too much to dump on someone all at once. I've just been told werewolves exist, the one person I trusted above everyone else had a whole other life that he lied about, and you expect me to take over your crazy family."

Rowland lowered his hands. Smith seemed reluctant as the two men took the opportunity to put away their weapons. During the entire meeting, the old Druid had remained calmly seated as if nothing had happened. Without any signs of fear for his safety, Devon could still tell that his pale eyes hadn't missed a beat. Yet, out of all the members of this family, it was he who intimidated and intrigued her the most.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'm not running away again. It didn't work the first time remember?" Devon waved the bracelet on her arm at Rowland. "I'm going outside those doors, into that field to think about all of this."

Trusting in her new level of importance, she turned and exited the room. Her nameless champion watched her go. Idly she wondered who he was and what prompted him to respond in the manner he did. Those eyes certainly made for a pleasant distraction from all of the reality she had faced so far today.

Making her way across the field, Devon decided to breach the tree line back into the woods. They would protect her from the gentle rain, as well as from any prying eyes from the house. Inside the shelter of the trees, her headspace began to unclutter as she breathed deeply of the fresh air all around her. It would take more than these simple pleasures to deal with everything she was facing, yet she took a moment to pretend, even just for a while that it all stopped existing back within the house.

How much time had passed was something lost to her. Her senses registered that the rain had stopped, and sun was breaking through the clouds above. Despite her best efforts to forget, her mind couldn't shut reality out. Derrick and Jackson were dead, this she was certain, and everyone along with her father believed she was too. It would be impossible to return to her old life, not anymore. _Why couldn't they have just been a delusional cult?_ How strange that her greatest fear yesterday would be a blessing in disguise today.

What happened in Derrick's apartment was not a trick or hallucination. Drugs maybe? But how would Rowland have pulled it off? As she entertained the question, Devon's memories of the pain she felt as her skin split apart reassured her that it had indeed taken place.

Everything around her seemed more vibrant; the leaves were greener, the sounds intensified, she could almost feel the water in the air touching her skin as she filled her lungs. The natural world was revealing hidden surprises to her new supernatural senses.

Perhaps it was the illusion of not being able to see the stone walls in the distance, but Devon felt more at ease in nature than she'd ever felt before. Childhood nightmares of cannibalistic mountain people lived in her imagination, creating a deep-seated fear of the woods that she wouldn't admit to anyone. How could she be scared of things that didn't exist outside of films, when now she was a thing of a legend herself?

Chapter Nine

WEREWOLF 101

"It's something else, isn't it?"

From somewhere high above a voice interrupted Devon's private musings. She stood up from the stump she was crouched against, using her hand to shelter her eyes from the sun now shining through the treetops. As she struggled to find the male voice, it took her a minute to focus in on him. To her astonishment, Jesse was found perched thirty feet up in the branches of the tree beside the one she was kneeling against. Something about his voice struck her, Jesse shouldn't sound so clear at the distance he so casually spoke.

"Ahhh the woods... You know something? I never enjoyed them much until after the change."

"How?" Devon's voice trailed off, awed by how high he was and equally confused on how he got up there, remembering that she left him back in the house.

"Give me a sec. I'll be right down." Jesse rolled his body forward, taking a few spins as he fell from above; landing in front of her gracefully.

During his fall she pulled her fist tight, her body tensed. Devon couldn't help but gasp.

He gave Devon the same mock bow of showmanship that he presented to Rowland back in the council room.

Back on his feet, he was smiling at her expression. With her mouth hanging open, she realized that she was gawking, but who wouldn't if they just saw someone fall from that height unscathed.

"Aww, don't worry," he said, laughing. "I can't get hurt, but its sweet you were concerned."

As embarrassing as it was, the concern she felt for the man was real. Still, she lied. "I wasn't concerned, I was just impressed that you didn't split your skinny hipster jeans with that stunt."

His face, eyebrow raised as he pretended to take offense to her comment. "Correction, they're eighties punk rock. They predate anything hipster by several decades and a lot of taste." He grinned, squatting up and down. "Besides, they're stretch denim. God, I love these modern textiles."

Devon couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, we are really doing _this_?"

"Doing what?" Jesse responded.

"Talking about fashion? Because that's clearly the most important thing to be discussed."

"It usually is. Well, at least in my world it is," he replied. "You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure of yet."

When he insisted that she wasn't his type, he wasn't kidding. Devon felt foolish that she was only now catching his drift. "So, why did you follow me out here?" she asked. "I was pretty clear that I wanted to be left alone to figure this out."

"And how's that working out for you?"

"Fine, everything is just fine." Of course, it wasn't fine. Nothing had changed, every thought was still an unfocused mess shifting around her mind.

"Ugh. _Fine_. No word contains more bullshit context then _fine_. Only people terrible at lying use the word fine."

What once was a beautiful moment of camaraderie between them was beginning to dwindle away. "What you are saying doesn't even make sense. I left you in the council room; there is no way you would have made it here before me."

"Sister, you have a lot to learn, and lucky for you, I'm here to be your guide. We can call it an introductory course to Werewolf 101."

Devon expression brightened, and her voice took on the tone of an infomercial spokesperson. "Have you ever had one of those bad days when nothing goes right, and then you get stuck with an annoying person who keeps pestering you when you need to be alone, leaving you wanting to strangle them?"

"Look, I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you're not." Devon was fed up and unwilling to retract her attempt at a sarcastic insult.

"I'm sorry, but are you always this angry? Or is it just because of everything that's been going on back there?" Jesse gestured towards the trees that bordered the clearing, in the direction of the house.

Devon smiled, "FYI, today the strangled person is shaping up to be you. What the hell is so important that you needed to follow me – or, excuse me – race _ahead_ of me?"

"First lesson of Werewolf 101: super hearing. So you might want to keep the whole 'thoughts of murder' to yourself. Everyone can still hear you from up there."

All Devon could do was turn away from him and look up to the sky. Behind the treetops the sun had passed over, sinking lower through the branches. The air had chilled, highlighted by the vapor exhaled from her lips as she breathed. Devon assumed the cold would force her back in the direction of the house; a place she was unready to face. She could sense it, but just like the morning in the river, the cold didn't seem to be affecting her body.

"Just...go away, please." These words could have been spoken to either Jesse or at the situation as a whole if only she could whisk away reality so easily. Maybe it was the exhaustion in her voice that reached through to him or perhaps it was just the 'please.'

"Fair enough, look I'm sorry. It's just my nature to be a smart ass when things are tense. I just thought that I could be more relatable to you than those stiffs up there."

Devon reminded herself that there is no leaving this situation, and she could use all the friends she could get. Who knew what kind of life Jesse had led, and how did he come to be part of this mess; maybe he was here under the same circumstances as her. Suddenly, she felt a cold touch of guilt for the way she had been treating him.

Jesse placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'm here to help you, not make your life worse. I keep forgetting that I wanted this life. I even searched it out and got to choose. It's shitty that you weren't given the same opportunity. Which super sucks, by the way. I don't mean to make light of what you've been through."

"No, it wasn't fair." She turned back to face him.

"Well, it was this or.... well, let's just say the alternative wouldn't be my first pick. It's not all bad, you know. It has its perks."

"Werewolf 101." Devon gave a tiny smile as the image of Jesse falling through the pine trees landing unharmed filled her mind.

"Werewolf 101 baby. Rowland will get around to explaining all of this if you give him a chance. He's actually a great leader, and he cares about this family."

"Yeah, Saint Rowland, going around killing innocent people and all that." She couldn't help putting in the dig, especially if Jesse was telling the truth about their enhanced hearing. Safe to say, that warming up to Rowland was the most prominent amongst the challenges she would have to face.

Jesse shrugged. "Wrong place, wrong time, sister. You didn't know what was going on beyond that door, besides this is a serious conversation about emotions and shit. I'm not really the nurturing type and probably not the best person to help take that on right now."

It was hard not to become curious about Jesse. How could anyone want all of this? Having a chance to observe his apparent taste for the adventurous side of things, suggested he might be a worthwhile person to have as an ally or a friend. Would she be looking at the situation differently if Derrick was still alive and he had given her a chance instead? She wasn't emotionally ready to see past Rowland's actions, not under the present circumstances.

"My dad always told me that seriousness came with getting older," she said. "Give it a couple of years. You're only what twenty-five?"

Jesse burst out in laughter, startling a small flock of birds into the distant sky, "Oh honey, flattery will get you everywhere. Well, almost everywhere. Okay, lesson two in Werewolf 101 and I guess the exception to your father's rule. We don't age once we are turned. I'm actually fifty-eight, and I still don't care for serious life drama if I can avoid it."

"Fifty-eight? Bullshit. There is no way you are fifty-eight." She was open-minded to a degree, but immortality?

"Ah, now I've got your attention," his smile getting bigger. "I told you, there is a lot to learn about this new world you're now part of."

"You are telling me that I'm now immortal?"

Jesse held up a finger. "No, I didn't say we don't die. I said we don't age."

Great more riddles, she thought, frowning. "So what are we like vampires or something?"

"Oh, you are adorable. No sorry to burst your bubble Twilight, but there is definitely no such things as vampires." He stroked his chin in thought. "Although, I'm not one-hundred percent on Bigfoot yet."

"Hey, I get it that you're not big on seriousness, but come on. Bigfoot?"

"I am being serious! Bigfoot is still yet to be disproved. But now we are getting sidetracked, and we don't have a lot of time. Rowland said he wants us back before the sun sets. So let's skip the small talk and show you the fun stuff. Back to your first question, how did I get here before you? Well simple, you're slow."

"Thanks." Devon looked unamused.

"It's not your fault and to be expected since you are still thinking like a human."

"Well, how else would I think?" She asked.

"The night you escaped, Rowland told me that you were running as fast as he was. Yet today it took you the better part of a century to get across that field."

"Again, thanks. Is insulting me part of the fun stuff? Because I'm really not feeling the love here."

"What I mean is, running that fast is impressive, and I want to see you do it again. I even cut my trip back to Vancouver short, so that I could be here to see you in action. Why do you think I was in the alley outside your apartment? I don't waste my time on just anybody."

"Of course I was running full tilt when I escaped from that room, I was terrified for my life. I wouldn't line myself up for a marathon, and it's certainly not enough to make you hang around alleys trying to see some kind of a miracle. I don't have superpowers."

"Figures. I would wager that you're one of those seeing is believing types? Step back a bit and think about it. You've gone from not believing in werewolves this morning, to half accepting the truth of what you are. In a micro-fraction of your human existence, you can do that, but not believe in superpowers? Why don't we call them heightened abilities for now? Sound good?"

"Point taken. Sure, why not? What do I have to lose?"

"Good, now shut up and close your eyes, we are losing daylight. Lesson three, memory retrieval." He stepped in closer to her.

Devon's body arched back away. "You say you know that I'm skeptical and then tell me to close my eyes. What's wrong with you?"

"Look, have I lied to you yet? No, I haven't. So, just put a bit of trust into someone and see what happens."

"Fine." If only to shut him up, Devon proceeded to close her eyes. "You're are going to be disappointed."

"Or you just might find out something new about yourself. Now, keep your eyes closed tight and breathe deep. In through your nose and slowly out through your mouth. Picture the clearing around us that we are standing in."

Despite her misgivings that this was nothing more than Jedi nonsense, she humored him and did as he asked. Within seconds Devon was flooded with vivid details filling her mind with the clearing. "Whoa," she paused. "I can see the clearing as if my eyes were still open," she said, filled with astonishment.

"Good, your visual memory is working. I was worried you might have sustained a slight tint of brain damage."

Her misgivings were clearly displayed on her face, even with her eyes closed.

"It was a joke. Sheesh, you need to lighten up a bit."

Still, her expression didn't falter.

"Fine, continuing on. Take yourself back to the night you escaped the house, right before the point of breaching the field. Remember how you felt, what you were sensing."

Devon relayed the images, as a stream of consciousness opened itself up to her at exceptional speed. "There was a man in the window... his face was reflecting in my face. I grabbed the shard of mirror after I fell, taking one last glance at the house before the lights flooded towards me. I was scared of being caught. I didn't want to be confined back in that room...all I could think about was escaping. My mind urged me forward toward the trees. I wouldn't look back again, not until I was free."

"What about when you were inside the tree line? What did you feel when you crossed this area? The one we are standing in right now?"

"I felt excitement mixing in with my fear while my bare feet sunk into the cold ground. Everything was alive to me. The moon shone so brightly that night. I remember being amazed at how clear it was when I entered; everything around me was visible. My movements were natural as if my body was doing the thinking for me. My only motivation was to gain as much distance from that room as I could..."

These memories unnerved her as she delved into them, seeing everything again in such vivid detail. Just like the night she was curled up beside Harvest on the beach, her mind struggled against them. Small bits and pieces of blurred images flashing past her; clouded by darkness and panic. In her willingness, she allowed her mind to access them. These were nothing like the regular recollection of memories in her human mind, seen only in tones of emotions. Devon could feel the cold air against her panting tongue, the crisp night breeze skimming over her fur as she ran charging through the woods.

Something shifted, merging her memories with a vision closer to the ground. Somehow she was behind herself, watching her own form weaving through the dense forest. From this new perspective, she could truly appreciate her speed and grace, as the form she was in struggled to keep pace. She looked down toward her own rushing feet, and there were paws in place of what should be human extremities.

Realization dawned on her. It was through Rowland's eyes that Devon had become the observer as he pursued her towards the edge of the river. All of his emotions were confusing to her mind and felt almost alien.

Her eyelids flooded open, gasping in panic. Severe disorientation overtook her as the images from her mind pulled against those of Rowland's. Devon stumbled backward and was caught by Jesse before she fell.

"What the hell was that?" Devon pushed Jesse's arms away from her, trying desperately to return her composure.

"I don't know. I'm not a mind reader. What did you see?" Jesse snapped his fingers in the air as he scanned her face, trying to catch the focus of her eyes. "One moment you were telling me about the forest, and then you suddenly dropped off into your own world. It actually freaked me out for a minute."

"Freaked you out? I was the one running, and then... somehow I was watching myself through Rowland's eyes. At least, I think it was Rowland. I could feel his frustration and panic as he chased me through the woods."

"Holy shit! Really? Crazy... I guess you are a rare creature, Devon Andrews." Jesse marveled at what she was telling him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it means the connection between you and Rowland is working. Well, almost you are a few months ahead of where you should be. I guess that's a good sign for you, maybe not so much for Rowland. Then again I'm not too sure how Alpha to Alpha transference works, I've only read what I could in the archives. I wasn't part of the family when the last transference took place."

"Screw this." She stepped back further from Jesse, refusing to take part in any more of these lessons. Devon turned on foot, as she ran from the clearing Jesse called out after her. "Wait, that's number four."

Devon found everything constricting around her. Unable to get a moment of peace from this family or from her own mind fighting to make her face this painful situation. As she ran her memories wavered between her current vision, and that of the forests dark tangled floor from Rowland's. More than just her memories were obscured, now that she had looked upon her new mind. Under Jesse's guidance, a Pandora's Box opened, and there could be no denying her non-human existence from this point on.

It wasn't fair, Devon's life had finally settled into a place of safe normality. Far away from the pain and struggles of her past. Everything about this was out of any context that she could relate too, or even dreamed was possible. Devon begged for Derrick's comfort- pizza after work, curling up together on the couch, dreaming of their future life, even them laughing over what they would do when the zombie invasion finally happened. Apparently, it wasn't a zombie apocalypse they should have been planning for, but a werewolf invasion.

Derrick was the rock in her life that grounded her, something she needed to hold onto while everything around her crumbled. The reality of the moment enclosed as the open space raced past her.

Devon was disconnected from these thoughts as instantly as she had been ripped from the depth of her memories moments ago. In a smear of greens and browns, the ground beneath her feet blurred; she was moving faster than she could have conceived possible. Each movement of her body was driven safely, the flow of her muscles pumped without even a trace of strain.

Within her human thoughts, a spark of panic gripped her as she began to stumble, her foot caught the root of a tree; as her body cascaded forward.

Devon crashed against the ground, violently tumbling against the dense bush, skidding against a section of mud and leaves before slamming hard into the side of a nearby tree. The impact shattered the bark into jagged splinters as she slumped to the ground in front of it.

While she lay there panting, stunned by her sudden loss of equilibrium, this time it came to no surprise that she felt no pain coming from her new body. The lack of pain was a common reoccurrence since she awoke, something to do with the new abilities that she didn't understand. Against the ground she pushed, rolling herself into a sitting position as she watched Jesse speed out from the woods catching up to her. With his usual grace, he stopped a few feet in front of her laughing hysterically as he took in the sight of her. Devon spat traces of twig and dirt from her mouth as she glared up at him between his gasps for air.

"It's not funny, look at me... I'm a mess." Devon picked pieces of the forest from her ponytail as she stood up assessing the state of her torn and mud-ridden outfit. "These are the only clothes I have left." She complained, annoyed with how funny he found her current state.

"Oh, I'd say I'm sorry, but the bush woman look is really working for you." He gulped, quaking in a fresh howl of laughter.

"Great, I get stuck with the bad comedian as a teacher." Devon turned away from Jesse to look back at the now smooth patch against the tree that her impact caused. She ran her hand up under her shirt to feel nothing but smooth skin, unharmed without even a scratch. Before she could ask Jesse, her nose sniffed the air as the smell of chimney smoke held steady against the wind. Across the river, she recognized the embankment and trail, her mind had taken her back to the same place where she awoke face down in the water.

Jesse's laughter subsides as he watched Devon's gaze, a few feet from her eyes he waved his arms trying to get her attention. "Umm earth to mud woman? Are you okay?"

"Yeah...I know that trail" she answered.

"Are you sure? I mean it could be any trail." He turned to look in the same direction for a better view.

"I'm sure, and it leads to a farm, just a few minutes up the path. After the night Rowland chased me, and I woke up in the river, I followed it. There is a woman who lives there with her kids." Devon smiled. "She was kind to me. Well, she was after she stopped pointing her shotgun at me."

He smiled at her comment, nodding his head. Her final admission had caused Jesse to chuckle. "Well yeah, that's pretty much Jenn's style. Shoot first and ask questions later."

"Wait, are you saying that you know her?"

"If someone is worth knowing around here, you can be assured that I do. Why don't we go and say hi?"

Devon looked upon her tattered clothing with a grimace. Of course, she would love to see Jenn and the kids again, but not like this, not again. "No...Jenn was nice enough to take me into her home. She even gave me clothing, a hot shower, food, and a ride home. Imposing twice would be pushing anyone's limits. Besides, I don't want to bring any of this madness into her home. Especially around her kids."

"Well, after all that I think you at least owe her a thank you."

"Of course I do. I felt bad enough lying to her about how I ended up face down in the river." Devon was glad that Jesse knew her, it meant the opportunity to show her appreciation could be within her ability. Having someone like Jenn nearby might give Devon a sanctuary to visit. Somewhere away from all the werewolf conformability surrounding her back at the house.

"Wow, you really are hopeless. No, that is not what I was implying," he said, as though speaking to a child. "What I mean is that you should thank her for keeping your head off the chopping block with Smith. If it weren't for Jenn and how nicely you behaved around her kids, Smith would have been sent out to retrieve you. Things could have been a lot worse than a night on the beach with a bunch of hippies."

"How do you know I spent the night on the beach? I never mentioned that to anyone here."

"I followed you after the alley." Devon's face scowled, and he continued before she could make another comment about her loss of privacy. "Oh, come on! You are the most interesting thing that has happened around here in a long time, and well... curiosity killed the cat, not the wolf."

"So if Jenn knows about the family, how is she still...?" It hit Devon as her mind caught up to Jesse's hidden meanings. Only people who know about the family are other werewolves. "Jenn's a werewolf too?" His silence and coy smile answered it for her. "Of course she is! You're one. I'm one... Christ, is there anyone on this island that isn't?"

Jesse seemed to be enjoying the reaction this information had brought forth in Devon. "Well, it's not that big of a club." He began to pretend to count on his fingers as he stared in mock concentration. "Let's see, hmm...Rowland, Keryn, Smith, Jenn, the kids, Connor, and yours truly makes seven you have met. That leaves Jenn's husband, the twins, and, well the other family across the border. They are just dying to get a look at you."

Something about this made Devon's skin crawl, yet she had no reason to feel anything towards people she had yet to meet. Still, she felt the urge to lie "I'm sure they are lovely people."

"Ha! I'm not sure if 'lovely' is the right word for them. It's probably best if you make up your own mind when you meet them."

How were so many of these wolf people right under the nose of society? Hiding this fact would be part of a new life Devon would have to become accustomed. Every time she tried to think about it, she ended up picturing Lon Chaney Jr. as the Wolfman and how he ended up.

"Well, let's go say hi to Jenn," Jesse continued. "She won't mind at all. You did something right with her, and she was taken enough by your charms to put her skin on the line. She did regard you as a terrible liar, but hey that's a good thing, right?"

"Thanks, it's what I strive for in my life."

"So, you are already wet and dirty. I think it's time for lesson number five."

Before Devon could react, Jesse reached out and took hold of her arm. Instead of pulling away she decided to see what he was going to teach her; within seconds Devon instantly regretted her decision of passive resistance.

"Watch me on the other side."

"The other...?" Jesse spun her body around with such force that it lifted her feet from the ground. He whirled Devon as he laughed playfully, and just as she was about to yell at him to stop; Devon was airborne. Through the sky, her fear and panic rose as she hurtled over the river toward the far bank. Logically her mind wanted to tighten up in preparation for the oncoming pain of broken bones. Instead, something inside her mind subconsciously moved her body, for her; turning it in mid-flight.

As she landed on the embankment, Devon skidded slightly across the rocks and mud. All of her muscles were now tight as she crouched on all fours, panting in shock. Again she was fully intact and unharmed while a small trail of stones rolled their way down into the river next to her.

An intense vibration shuddered the earth under her palms as Jesse landed a few feet away from her. Devon was staring at the churning water, so dumbstruck by what had just happened that she missed his landing.

Jesse adjusted his clothing and brushed himself off before offering Devon, his hand. "Number five: Jumping. I would have let you try, but I think you need to work on running more."

Devon smirked as she reached up, slapping a handful of mud right into his open palm. She gripped tightly, as she used his hand as leverage.

"Oh man, that was weak!" He shouted as he yanked his hand free, shaking it off with a jovial laugh.

"Now we are _almost_ even." She grinned at him before heading off toward the farm at full speed; leaving Jesse to rinse his soiled hand in the river.

This time, Devon was able to come to a graceful stop just at the bottom stairs of Jenn's porch. As she lifted her foot to approach, Sophia burst through the screen door; rushing down and wrapping her arms tightly around Devon's waist.

"I knew you would come back!" The girl called excitedly to her mother. "Mom! She's back!!"

Jenn strolled out from the house with a coy smile on her face. "Well if it isn't... Keryn, was it?"

"Devon, but I think you already knew that." Over the top of the girl's head, Devon mouthed the words Does she know? While pointing down toward Sophia. The girl still clinging tightly to her waist.

Jenn smiled and rolled her eyes. "Yes City girl, she knows who she is. How about you? Are you all caught up to speed?"

"Well, I guess we are all werewolves. I think I've been able to take in that much. How about that?" She looked down at the little girl's smiling face.

Sophia gleamed brightly at her. "It's not that bad once you get used to the full moons," she declared, as though she were speaking of nothing more than going to the dentist.

It shocked her to see the child's carefree attitude over something that Devon herself was struggling greatly to come to terms with. Maybe there were a few things she could learn from this little girl.

"Well, I see someone has found a teacher, and it doesn't look like he's been going easy on you either," Jenn said as Jesse stopped right behind Devon. "What brings you two to my neck of the woods today? I'm impressed that Rowland let you leave the house so soon."

Jesse cut Devon off as she went to speak. "This girl is a natural Alpha; she didn't give Rowland a choice in the matter. She even went up against Smith..."

"Girl you are too brave for your own good, I wish I had been there to see that."

"Thank you." Devon broke in. "What I mean is, thank you for everything you did for me. That's why we came here."

"And here I thought you just needed a new set of clothes again. Jesse, what did you do to this poor girl?"

"Don't blame me! She's a bit clumsy for an Alpha."

"A student is only as good as her teacher," Devon quipped.

"Ok, enough you two, and don't you worry about the clothing. We are always well stocked up in track pants, and shirts in case family stops in for tea. Travis is just out with his father picking up a few things. They should be back soon, and this would be a great opportunity for you to meet my husband while you are here. Just wait here at the top of the steps," Jenn tossed her tangled curls, gesturing them both up the stairs as she went back inside.

Devon lifted Sophia onto her front as they climbed to the top. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but you really are a werewolf?"

"We all are silly, even Uncle Jesse." She beamed pointing at Jesse who remained at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ugh! Kid, I've told you a million times, it's just Jesse. The whole 'Uncle Jesse' is too much of a reminder of the '80s for yours truly."

"Do you not like being a werewolf?" Sophia asked, a touch of astonishment filling her voice. This kind of ideology was apparently something the little girl had never considered before.

How could Devon possibly go about explaining the complex misgivings of her feelings to someone so young, especially a girl who was raised to accept this as her typical day to day life? "Well I just found out this morning that I am one, so think it's going to take me some time to adjust to it all. Wait a minute, how did you become a werewolf?"

Her little face squinted in confusion at the question. "Don't you know where babies come from?" She asked. "My mom can explain it to you if you don't."

Devon was embarrassed for even asking the question, laughing as she reassured the little girl that she did indeed know how babies were made. Werewolf babies, on the other hand, this would be a conversation that maybe Keryn or Jenn could clarify in private with her.

Within the moment of Devon's embarrassment, Jenn had returned with a pile of fresh clothing stacked in her one arm. The mother exchanged them for her little girl and sent Devon on her way to freshen up. She was sure that Jesse would use this time to fill Jenn in on how things back at the house were progressing.

After removing the bits of moss from her hair, she put her torn clothing into the bathroom trash. Devon washed her face before heading back out to join everyone in the kitchen. In her hand, she carried her wet shoes. It was no surprise that Jenn was already waiting for her with a plastic bag and a smile. "Unfortunately," she said, "spare shoes are not one of the perks of being a werewolf."

"It's okay she's tough now," Jesse reassured her. "You won't need them walking back. That would be lesson number-"

"No more wolf talk at my table," Jenn interrupted. "She's got another three hundred plus years to learn it all, and she doesn't need to hear it all in one evening. Besides from what you've told me, Devon's already been through enough for one day." Jesse silently mouthed the words lesson six while holding up six fingers as soon as Jenn turned back around. "Devon, go pour yourself a cup of coffee, it sounds like you could use one."

How could Devon not be warmed by Jenn's protective nature? Knowing that she had gone to such lengths vouching to Rowland, only increased her gratitude towards the fiery redhead. Jenn was right, and if she was stuck playing this role, time was something Devon had ample amounts of. Nonetheless, she needed to learn as much about her situation as she could, even things that were sometimes difficult to believe.

"I appreciate it, but it's hard not to talk about," she said. "It's not every day you wake up to find out that you're a werewolf, and that your whole life has been taken away. Poof."

"You're right; those are some tough breaks, kid. We're all going to miss Derrick. I'm sure you most of all."

Across the room, Devon could see Sophia sinking into her chair silently chewing her lip as the conversation took a darker feel.

"So you all knew him then?" Devon asked as she took a seat beside Jenn.

"For the better part of a year. It was that long ago that Rowland brought him around to the farm to meet Travis and Sophia."

"Sorry, I'm just having a tough time knowing that he kept all of this from me."

"If it helps, Derrick always spoke very highly of you. We could tell he loved you very much. Sophia and Travis are devastated about losing him. We all are."

There was a genuine sadness to Jenn's voice, which touched Devon. In her mind, she could easily envision him playing out on the field with the kids. Trying to see him training to become their leader was something entirely different. Partial thoughts and memories of Derrick over the last year zipped through her mind. How did he pretend that life was completely normal while dealing with all of this? Grasping this was the most challenging part of it all. There was a hard lesson in there somewhere, but for now, she was grateful to be partially numb to the shock of it. This numbness at least kept her tears from breaching the surface. Trust wasn't something Devon dished out quickly, and whatever Derrick's intentions were for their future, his lies and secrecy lead to the loss of his life and the life of their child.

Jenn placed her hand on Devon's shoulder. "We've had a bit longer to process all of this then you have, this life I mean where some of us have had quite a long time, a _really_ long time. Give it while to sink in."

Through the kitchen window, Devon could see the last of the sun beginning to burn out behind the treetops.

Just then, the screen on the front door pulled open as Travis came barreling down the hall toward the kitchen. "We went to the shooting range!" He shouted excitedly, skidding to a halt just past the kitchen door as he sniffed at the air. Quickly his eyes spotted Devon, and his exhilarated manner turned into awe. "Hello," with a hushed mumbled he quietly shuffled his way closer to his mom.

Jenn ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Oh don't mind him, Travis is always shy around pretty girls."

The boy's cheeks flushed as he pulled away, having found his mother an unsupportive shelter from his current shyness with girls.

Travis was instructed to take his sister and clean up for dinner. In tow of her brother, Sophia broke away giving Devon a parting hug. "I'm sorry you lost your family, but now you have us for your family," she gushed before rushing off after Travis.

This time, the front door closed gently, as a man stood in the doorway having bared witness to Devon's brief moment of condolences. Jenn's husband simply nodded toward her in respect. Tall and dark-haired, pleasing in an outdoorsy fashion. It was almost as if his style had peaked somewhere in the late seventies and settled. His mustache reminded her of watching late night reruns of Magnum P.I. Just like her father; this man's entire essence screamed vintage cop.

"Well, I didn't know we were expecting company tonight." Passing the doorway to the kitchen John looked to Jesse, brows raised. Devon could tell that the two of them were not the best of friends, she also is no stranger to uncomfortable standings with law enforcement. Something in her past, but still not forgotten. With manners in check, he smiled and tipped his hat to Devon after putting the groceries onto the kitchen counter. Not before kissing his wife on the forehead while making his way over to the empty chair beside her. Nothing in his mannerisms made her question whether he was less than genuine about his affection for her.

"It's an honor to meet our new Alpha in person finally," he said, extending his hand out to Devon across the table.

Jesse placed his palm over his face while shaking his head. "Yeah, that's not awkward," he sighed.

"I'm John, a pleasure to have you in our home." His handshake suited his personal vibe and name, solid and firm.

Jesse was right, how couldn't Devon feel awkward being addressed by title? Still, she smiled. There was no ill intent or malice meant in his words, only respect. There was no doubt that he would be popular amongst his peers on the force. "A welcomed escape," she said. "And thank you, this is the first bit of normality I've been able to have all day."

The energy of the room shifted for an uncomfortable moment as Jesse rolled his fingers heavily across the table. "This whole thing is a little too TV sitcom for Uncle Jesse's taste. If you all don't mind me, I'll be heading outside for a smoke, and then we have to go. I'll meet you outside."

John's eyes never left Jesse as he watched him exit the kitchen, not once bothering to conceal his frown.

"I don't think it's a secret that they don't see eye to eye on a lot of things," Jenn said once she heard the front door close.

Devon, of course, was curious to know why, but out of respect for her new comrade, she decided this was not the place to ask. Choosing instead, to break the tension, she asked, "So werewolves can have kids?"

Jenn choked on her coffee as she began to laugh. "Yes, we even pay taxes and drive cars, too."

"Looks like Sophia was right, maybe I am back to learning about the birds and the bees all over again. I really don't know how this new world works. Do you have to bite them when they are born?"

John put down his coffee cup hard against the table, leaning back looking almost offended.

His moral high ground was interesting. Quite the upstanding guy, she thought. _A werewolf and a good citizen? I guess, people could be both?_

"Sorry, it's just not our way to do something so vulgar to children or anyone for that matter," he replied.

"I'm a little confused, why is being a werewolf vulgar?" Devon was feeling slightly worried that there was something she was missing.

"Dear," Jenn placed her hand on her husband's arm. "Remember there will be a time and a place for certain information. Let me explain this one." Her husband nodded and left her the floor.

"Wolves have children the usual way," she explained. "We are half human when transformed after all. The major differences are faster-birthing cycles, and our children will grow up like normal kids. Only, they will stop aging physically at the same point the parent was when they had turned. For us, Travis to John's, and Sophia to mine. It has been known that gender is not always attached to the sex of the child. Appearance and physical traits of the child are pretty noticeable to which parent the child is following."

"Wow, seriously? So that's why Sophia looks so much like you, but why?"

"We pass onto them our DNA, just like any other family likeness. Besides, we can't bite anyone or make wolves any other way than by mating. Only you and Rowland have that ability. Only you two can create new wolves. We're forbidden even to try. We don't understand why but we don't have the right mix of DNA to make a successful transfer."

Each sentence made her want to ask more questions; she was captivated and excited by this process. Also, a small glimmer of hope filled her with a new prospect; children were not something void from her future after all. Turning in on her, came the memory that she would already be an expecting mother if Rowland's bite had not found its way into her wound.

As soon as the realization occurred to her, she was inwardly crestfallen. Every loss piled on top of Devon, crushing her. With all the various shocks to her system, it was no wonder her emotions were so volatile and raw. Being aware of this still didn't prevent her from getting overwhelmed from one moment to the next. Jenn must have sensed something was wrong when she turned and asked her husband to check on the kids before dinner.

Once he was upstairs, Jenn reached over and took Devon's hands in hers, whispering. "Are you okay? I know this is a huge shock for anyone, but what just happened there? It's like you just fell away from the world."

Devon could have made a simple excuse up allowing her to keep this private suffering to herself, but the woman across from her had given her nothing but support. Lying to her would be an act of disrespect that was undeserving.

"No, I'm not okay," she shook her head. "I was pregnant when Rowland attacked me that night," she whispered back. She just allowed the tears to fall down her face. "It's not as if I knew for sure, or even had time to process it. That's part of why I went to find Derrick after getting the call that he hadn't turned up at work for a few days. That is why I showed up at his place that night. I was going to tell him he was going to be a father."

The chair legs pulled across the floor as Jenn moved closer, taking Devon in her arms. "I'm so sorry, this whole thing has been a shit show for you. Hey, remember that we are your family now if you need anything you come right through that door." Jenn released Devon and took her by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. "No knocking, you just come in, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," she nodded with a smile, trying not to let the past take away her first moments of stability she had in days. "Thank you," she said, wiping her eyes. Standing up, she knew she had already left Jesse waiting outside too long.

She stood giving Devon a final hug. "You know you're stronger than you look. Personally, I'd be a mess if I were in your shoes."

Devon laughed, remembering Jenn and her shotgun, she had difficulty believing that there was anything that she couldn't handle. "It's like riding a bike, I guess. I spent most of my life being a mess. At least I got a few years away from it, but it looks like I'm in the thick of it again."

An understanding look came from Jenn, giving Devon the impression that she and the rest of the family probably knew about her personal history from Derrick. Another breach of trust added to a growing list.

"Is it okay if I come by tomorrow?" she asked. "I'm going to slip away without making a big production of it. Say goodbye to the kids for me?"

"I think it's a safer idea, I don't honestly think Sophia would let you leave if you did try to say goodbye," Jenn said. "She's quite taken with you."

"Before I go I wanted to say thank you again. I guess I owe you my life; Jesse told me what you did for me."

Jenn lifted her coffee mug off the table with a smile, tilting her head graciously. "Think nothing of it."

As Devon walked along the gravel drive, she found Jesse sitting against the wooden fence; reading something on his phone and smoking a cigarette. From the pile on the ground, it must have been his fifth one. Gagging, as she approached, she waved a hand cutting the frozen cloud of smoke and vapor. "I understand the seventies weren't as informed as we are today, but really? I can't believe I used to share that filthy habit."

Jumping a little at the sound of her voice, he quickly shoved his phone in his pocket. "I can't believe you ever stopped! You might as well take it up again. It's not like it's going to hurt you. Just one of the many perks of being a wolf: a new set of lungs every month."

"Yeah, well, that might be true. The smell, on the other hand, is revolting. Having enhanced senses only makes it worse."

"I guess I don't need these do I?" Devon waved the bag with her muddy shoes in the air.

He crossed his arms. "I can't take you anywhere, now can I, Princess? Mind you," he looked around in the air, "not like there is anywhere fancy to take you to."

There was no point in putting them on. Devon could feel the pressure of the ground; but not the pain or freezing temperature. One by one they marched along the driveway and into the field, while she enjoyed the new sensations coming from below. Each bit of information from her environment was being received in such an existential way. It gave her a sense of connection, of being more in control, and therefore: safer — the earth between her toes, each blade of grass that crushed beneath her heel in perfect detail, and the scents of other animals trailing on the breeze. Rather than being unpleasant, this feeling was intimate.

Standing across from the rushing waters, Jesse suggested throwing Devon again to speed up the process. "Rowland is going to be pissed that we took so long."

"Rowland can kiss my ass at this point. He needs me, not the other way around."

"Spoken like a true Alpha," Jesse laughed.

Devon wanted to cross, and she wanted to do it on her own. There was no interest in being surprised and winded like the first time. She could only imagine how amazing it must feel to be able to leap that high with just the intention of her mind. Sophia was right, some things about this new life would help make up for losing her humanity. The rest would still take time for her old human mind to reconcile. "Hey, can we fly?" she asked.

"What do you think this is, a David Copperfield special? No, we can't fly. Our muscles are just extremely strong compared to a normal person's, and we are exceptionally agile. Can we fly? Oh, my."

"Well, how the hell am I supposed to know what's possible and what's not? I just had to relearn how babies were made, half an hour ago. Give me a little slack, okay?"

"Fine," he agreed. "Look if you want to jump, then jump. You can ask questions when you get back to the house." Snapping his fingers quickly, "Motivation, you need a motivation to pull this off. Okay, just jump like your life depends on it. Empty your mind of any other thoughts and picture yourself touching down on the other side."

"Yeah, that sounds easy." _I'm so going to get wet again_ , she thought.

"Seriously, just imagine horrible zombie clowns with melting faces are chasing you. Only you and the river stand in your way of clown apocalypse, now...go, run!!"

"Clown apocalypse?" Devon handed her bag of wet shoes to Jesse and walked back several paces, giving herself a clear path. _Here goes nothing_.

As instructed, she sprinted toward the river bank with nothing but the image of her goal filling the space of her mind. _Trust_ , she reminded herself. Trust that her new body could extend its abilities without having to force it. As her foot pushed off the river's edge, she was sailing gracefully over the rushing currents; the way she had only before witnessed in her dreams.

Within a few beats, her feet touched down on the other side. Turning quickly around to beam with excitement at Jesse. "I did it!"

He stared for a moment in what appeared to be a look of shock that she made it. Finally, he let out a celebratory whoop, clapping his hands best her could while kneeling to push off into a run. Devon watched Jesse cross through the noise of the river, cutting the air with his speed. After a moment he joined her, although much farther down toward the rocky shallows; just shy of the water's edge.

"Maybe I should be the one giving you lessons from now on," she teased.

"Beginners luck," he shot back. "Besides I had your wet skanky bag slowing my glide down." Jesse tossed the bag up onto the grass in front of her before taking one last leap, landing just next to her. He kept walking along with his head up, leaving the shoes sitting on the ground. "Also I was thrown off by all the excitement."

"What can I say, I have that effect on a lot of guys," Devon smirked as Jesse continued along, shaking his head.

The walk back to the house was quieter than she was hoping. Jesse dodged her questions while Devon attempted to pull him out of his emotionally inverted state. Something back at Jenn's had triggered him and as much as she tried her attempts proved ineffective. He remained elusive, giving only short answers and promises that she would learn everything she needed in time. So much for Werewolf 101.

Probably a relief to Jesse, they found Rowland waiting in the clearing just in the tree line of the house. Sitting in a crossed legged pose on the forest floor perfectly still, breathing deeply in through his nose. Although his eyes were closed, his face was turned up to the night sky, washed across in beams of moonlight.

Devon remained silent, instead of continuing her failed back and forth banter with Jesse. Both of them stood under the shelter of the trees at the edge of the clearing, waiting to see if he would address them.

"What is he doing?" she whispered, forgetting that Rowland would be able to hear her at any volume. "Is he sleeping?"

"It looks like he's meditating, but I think he's mostly waiting for you. That's my cue to exit and head back to the city. It's been a smash, literally." He chuckled. "I'll see you around the house."

Before Devon could convince him to stay, Jesse slipped through the darkness and the trees. Rowland remained like a statue, behaving as though he was unaware of her presence.

Someone meditating was something Devon had never witnessed before. Was it like waking a sleepwalker? Was she supposed to leave him alone?

Rowland thankfully spared her the difficulty of having to decide when he opened his eyes. She stood before him, watching as his focus made the brief transition to the outer world from the one within.

"Please, sit with me," he said softly.

Gracefully, she lowered herself to the grass and crossed her legs, mirroring his posture. Her time at Jenn's hadn't removed her disdain for Rowland, but hope had helped quench her anger from earlier. Shyly, she looked downward, running her hand through the chill blades of grass as she waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. Devon raised her eyes to look at him while something uneasy stirred in her chest.

"I am truly sorry for all of this," he repeated. "This is also the last time I will say this to you. I did not mean what I said to you back at Derrick's place. I spoke from a place of shameful pride and anger. As an Alpha, we must take responsibility for everything that comes to fruition under our leadership. I could have had you guarded or sent somewhere away. We have both made errors, and now we will both have to live with this loss. I know your love for Derrick will push you past any of the deceptions or secrets that he kept from you, and in time you will understand the loss this family is sharing alongside you. He became my son and was to be a father to everyone here, we all loved him very much. If I had killed you that night and Derrick had lived...he would never have been able to forgive me. As much as we loved him, he loved you more."

Devon patiently listened to his words. As moving and heartfelt as they were, her eyes remained dry and focused. She recognized this as a moment for full disclosure, an opportunity to be completely honest with Rowland before moving on to whatever the next stage of their relationship would be. In that regard, her anger still outweighed her grief and confusion; something that was needed to be known. "I will never forgive you for what you did, Rowland," she said quietly.

"I would never expect you to. I'm not telling you this in hopes of forgiveness or for you to take pity on my actions. I'm telling you this in the hope that we can put aside this bad blood between us and look at the larger picture."

"And what's that? What is the larger picture?" Devon asked.

"That Smith was right. Creating you was forbidden and against all of our covenant. There are proceedings and laws that we must follow to keep our peace and balance. A new Alpha is shown to us through visions and rites, not chosen by us. But, you are here now, and this family has no other options. You are now Mother and Father to this pack as well as my Daughter, and I only have three months to prepare you and present you."

"What do you mean by Present me? To whom?"

"To the family across the border in Seattle. If they do not accept you as an Alpha and stick to the laws of our treaties...this family will be left open to a worse fate."

"Why can't you just hold off; you could stay on as Alpha until the next one is chosen?"

"It doesn't work that way," he said. "We serve our time, and mine has come to a close. We cannot keep living forever. The family needs to evolve with society and the world. These rules were made over a millennium ago, and I stand by them. I've seen over three hundred years of human history, countless deaths, and marvelous inventions. This world has changed so much, and someone new is needed to take this family over for another succession."

"Great, so being a werewolf is just the beginning of a larger game? What happens if this other family doesn't feel that I'm the right fit for the job?"

"If they deem you unworthy, then the two packs will be forced to merge under the rule of the Seattle family's next Alpha."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad, what would happen to me?"

Rowland hesitated before answering her. "You will be sentenced to _death_."

Chapter Ten

COFFEE WITH A SIDE OF LIES

Nightfall finally arrived, on a day that seemed unending. "Death," was the last word she remembered Rowland saying. Anything else he said after that only registered as mumbles and tones as she turned toward the house and walked away, leaving him in the clearing. In her brief time with Jesse, Devon could see a glimmer of hope inside this nightmare and a growing fascination towards her new abilities. That was until Rowland's bomb dropped.

Now what? To everyone in her old life, she was dead, and as she stepped into this new life, she yet again would face death head-on.

As she walked through the door, Keryn made an awkward attempt to start a conversation accompanied by an offer of food. She wasn't sure why Keryn had been so kind since her arrival, but she could tell all of it was a genuine attempt to bring her comfort in the form of a distraction. There was a high possibility that her heightened senses allowed her to eavesdrop onto Rowland's speech. Instead of being rude, Devon politely refused Keryn's offer for the company and told her that she needed some quiet space to process. Keryn understood and quietly walked Devon upstairs and showed her to her room before taking leave. This need for space wasn't a lie; neither was it surprising that sleep was not presenting itself to her mind.

Hours passed as she stretched out across the massive bed, laying in a patch of moonlight. Devon lifted her arms behind her head as she let her fingers trail. Each pad felt the texture and deep-seated grooves of the elegant carvings along the wood headboard. No one would need to tell her that this bed once belonged to Derrick; his smell still lingered deep within the foam coils in a room now passed down to her. Devon tried to bury herself into the pillow, hugging it tightly to her chest. She was painfully aware that this was the closest she would ever be to Derrick again. Well, physically at least.

It was strange to think that all of this was intended for him; his room, his place in the pack, even the heightened senses which allowed her to smell his scent all around her. The finality of death made it hard to hold a grudge against Derrick's actions in this situation. Devon would trade all of this to acquire a moment here with him now.

In comparison to the new abilities and pack expectations now placed upon her, this room was equally extravagant and easily larger than her old apartment had been. The vastness of it all left her feeling isolated and immensely small; she was a bewildered stepchild in this hand-me-down life.

The day's events had physically and mentally taken their toll, leaving her exhausted. How could anyone find a bright side knowing that their fate balanced on the sole word of a stranger across the water that she had never met? Just two weeks ago her fears were a failed relationship and possibly being pregnant. Now, both of those concerns were moot, lost, and in its place, she had gained all this instead. Both of Devon's eyelids began to drop, drifting into sleep as exhaustion finally won the struggle against the chaos swirling in her mind...

Devon's cheek slid along the pillow as she was jolted upright by something shuffling near the end of her bed. A shadow of a small child ducked below the end, just out of sight. "Hello? Who's there? Sophia? Travis?" _Why would the kids be here and not the farm_? There was a pause, but still, no answer came from the end of the covers. Carefully she crawled out from under the sheets and made her way cautiously to the end. Devon's new bed was also uncommonly tall. As she crept closer, she was surprised to find the unnamed boy from her dream sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was silent; neck craned up toward Devon as he looked shyly into her gaze.

"It's _you_ again. Do you live here? Are you part of this family too?"

For a moment he seemed puzzled, the look on his face told Devon that he was unsure of how to answer her. "I don't live anywhere," he replied.

"Well, we both have that in common." She smiled but received no response from the boy. "Sorry, what I meant is I know how that feels."

Lightly, she patted the bed inviting him up from the floor. At first, he hesitated but then stood up on his feet and used the blankets to scramble up onto the bed beside her.

"Wait a minute you were in my dream before. How are you here?"

"Dream, memory, you still hadn't decided which meaning you preferred."

"That's true. I guess I didn't. So kid, are you always going to be this cryptic with me?"

This question seemed to sadden him. "I'm only able to give you what I can. If I could, I would answer all of your questions."

Something felt strange, and the air started shifting. It was as if the room was contracting and expanding around Devon in tempo with the panicked state of her breath. Dizzying claustrophobia filled her, as the walls continued to waver and spin. Devon placed her hand against her forehead in hopes to still the room – was her exhaustion still toying with her senses? No, these sensations were beginning to feel familiar, and this was most certainly some dream state. When she looked back towards him, she found something in the depths of his eyes. An awareness that suggested knowledge that his years couldn't possibly account for. Deliberately, she slowed her breathing, counting to five as she inhaled in an attempt to prevent a growing panic from taking over. His stoic gaze held a calming effect while his scent eased her fear: memories warmed her, reminders of the circular forest glade where they first met. His presence transitioned the unpleasantness into a new form of dreaming. Somehow this small boy made her feel comforted and protective all at once.

Steadying herself by his presence, she placed her hand on his shoulder. Something made the boy flinch, pulling away from her touch. He jumped from the bed spinning onto all fours as he let out a small growling sound while baring his upper canines.

"It's okay," she said, surprised by his reaction. "You're safe with me."

"It's not _you_ that's coming," he said, just before he bound on all fours across the room and out the metal door.

Her heart began to pound with her rising concern for the boy. Alarmed by his swift departure, Devon left the safety of the bed and raced forward. As her body passed the threshold of the door, the hallway transformed. Where she had expected to find wood paneling, damp stone walls stretched in both directions, further than her eyes could make out. Her heightened senses were overwhelmed by the smell of decay, with a whiff of fresh forest air floating past her, telling her which direction the boy had gone. Thick clumps of moss clung to the walls as she ran along, searching for the boy. With each stride, Devon could feel her feet tread deep into the soft black earth below. There was movement from a shadow far ahead, and although she could not see him clearly, the boy's scent hung thick in the air. Increasing her speed, she was eager to catch him. Her heart was pumping with adrenaline; it's steady beat driving her in the thrill of the chase.

Devon's body instinctively hunched forward onto all fours, as the feeling of the damp soil churned beneath her paws. Each claw dug deep, pushing her momentum into bounds. Within seconds her prey was overtaken as she tackled him to the ground.

Beneath her wasn't the boy; her prize was a strange man, fully grown. Snarling, the flews along her upper muzzle tremored for the tender meat of his pale soft belly. He let out a flail of weak punches, shooting out vainly in all directions as he shrieked in blood-curdling terror. Swirling wafts of pheromones filled her nostrils; this new rising scent of his fear enticed her. All thoughts of the boy disappeared as her stomach filled with a hunger she did not fully understand. She instinctively knew that the blood pumping through his veins would make his flesh savory and fresh. Devon used her massive paw to pin the man against the pathway, claws extending deep within his chest, releasing a wail of pain from her prey. Warm blood gushed between her fingers as the iron tang scent filled the air. She leaned in closer, letting out a growl that reverberated into the man, causing him to whimper as he craned his face away from her exposed jaws.

Tongue lolling from between her teeth, her eyes drank in the sight of him. Strands of saliva dripped down along his neck, spewing out as he blubbered and screamed. His feeble hands scratched and clawed against her arm in his attempts to free himself. Dropping her muzzle, she lapped once at the blood welling out across his chest from under her paw. Coating her tongue, she could taste his terror as he struggled to get away. Stretching and twisting, he exposed his neck.

Without hesitation, her head lunged. Devon's canines bore deep as her teeth gripped onto the lower section of his jaw; sharp incisors were scrapping roughly against the bone. A hideous crack, followed by a spray of blood drowned out the gurgling screams while the man's jaw tore clean away. Further, attempts to call out failed while his tongue flopped around hopelessly in the surging flow of red.

Hunger and desire exploded through her. More than ever she was eager, tossing the bone against the stone wall before tearing away a generous piece from the bicep. Pale bone gleamed, exposed where her teeth had ripped apart the muscle and ligaments. All of this was something new to her, the flavor of hot blood that bathed her mouth as the man thrashed beneath her. Chewing the stringy meat between her jaws, she watched her victim shudder. Each movement grew weaker as his life bled out of him; the will of the human spirit to fight death would not be silenced as quickly as the gutted mouth.

Crisp air scented with oak trees cut through the sharp tang of blood. Ahead of her, Devon was able to see movement which now claimed her focus. Pieces of raw flesh slid down her throat, her first chase caught up to her, and she gazed upon the boy. In his arms, he held a sword almost twice his height. Propping it upright against his shoulder, he turned the sword on point. The movement was slow; it caught a beam of moonlight that began gleaming off the blade, reflecting towards Devon. Her eyes flickered, sheltering her from the brightness, tossing her head wildly as though the light itself were a net cast over her, pulling her in...

Franticly, her arms thrashed against the blankets covering her eyes before sending them cascading to the floor. The moonlight had been replaced by a bright streak of the sun, which created an extended path along the bed. Devon found herself safe in her room, with no sign of the carnage that had previously unfolded. The boy, the tunnel and the dying man, were nothing more than another dream.

Carefully she made her way around the room, tidying the bed before dressing herself in one of the generic black tracksuits that someone had filled the closet with. Somewhere deep in her stomach, a pain crept, followed by a deep growling. In disgust, she realized that her new appetite had incurred from her nightmare, which still lingered in her mind. That or her genuine hunger guided the direction of her dream; maybe she should have taken Keryn up on her offer of food last night. Whichever it was she could still recall the taste of the stranger's blood when she drew upon those memories.

It dawned on her that in her preoccupied state she had not paid attention to where Keryn had taken her after her talk with Rowland. Devon still didn't know her way around the house, so she called out from the bedroom door. Receiving no answer to her call and knowing that she couldn't just stay there all day. Devon wandered down the hallway, each of her bare feet pushed against the thick carpet as she passed several bedrooms that were all individually decorated. Each of the rooms was smaller than hers, and most likely belonged to the other family members that Rowland had mentioned. Something unusual stood out visually closest to the beds causing her to pause briefly. Along the walls, were large wooden plaques, each decorated differently with several weapons attached to them. Devon could see that each one had different groupings probably customized for each family member. _Had everyone gone out?_ Maybe they were waiting for her in the great hall like the previous day.

Underneath the staircase, she pulled open the doors to the council chamber, announcing herself with a tentative "Hello?" Devon was greeted only by the sound of her voice, echoing across the stone walls. There was the thought of returning to her room as she wandered towards the front door to look outside. Just before she could open the great oak door, her senses unearthed another kind of echo, this time it was an incredible aroma of food.

Hunger winning over her reluctance to get lost, Devon followed the scent into a section of the house she had yet to explore. Just past what seemed like an extravagant dining area she came to a set of double doors at the end of a long hallway. Behind them, Devon could hear mumbling and the sound shuffling of objects. A short internal debate of what she could be walking into played in her mind before choosing to push forward. Opening the door just enough to peek in she was confronted with something her mind had not anticipated.

Alone in the kitchen, Keryn was dancing away blissfully unaware that she was being watched. Devon slid further in putting her back up against the door.

Keryn shimmied across the tile floor, dark hair flying. Attached to her right arm was an Mp3 player, the headphones buzzing away with the faint pulse of the rhythm. Devon felt like a spy hiding in plain sight as she clasped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling. She watched as Keryn pulled out the whisk from the batter she'd been intensely stirring and began using it as an imaginary microphone, belting out words to the song. Devon couldn't control herself anymore, laughing outright. Knowing it wasn't fair, she coughed loudly to announce her presence. Keryn spun around, batter flicking haphazardly onto the floor; an extreme shade of red blushed across her face at the sight of Devon propped in the doorway. In an embarrassed panic, she slapped the whisk and bowl onto the counter before yanking out her earphones.

"I don't know about werewolves, but I've never seen someone blush like that. I guess color change is another werewolf trait that Jesse forgot to mention." Devon smirked.

"I, uh... so embarrassed," she shook her head, trying to regain some of her composure. "I was making us some breakfast before you got up." Keryn nervously explained as she attempted to clean the mess while stuffing her MP3 player back into the pocket of her jeans. "I guess it would be safer to say that I was _trying_ , more like attempting to, at least. This girl right here is not big on cooking."

"Well, whatever you made, the smell is amazing. That's what guided me in here."

Keryn's eyes narrowed as a faint crease formed across her brow. "But I haven't made anything yet." Perplexed, her words continued to tumble out in an attempt to explain herself. "I mean, the bacon is still sitting there, and I've taken a few steaks out to marinate for dinner, but no actual breakfast yet."

Devon moved to the island that divided the two girls and sat down at one of the stools. Thick slabs of soaking meat and raw bacon were laid out in front of her; reminding Devon of the remnants of her gruesome dream. The blood now pooling onto the cutting board was the same aroma from her memory. Her face pulled in a grimace, disgusted with her new craving.

"Are you okay? Was it something I said?" Keryn asked.

"Not _what_ you said exactly. I'm a vegetarian."

There was a pause as Keryn waited. "Yeah, I brought you food that first night you were here, don't you remember? I will be honest with you. I don't think you're now _designed_ to be a vegetarian."

"What do you mean designed?" Devon asked.

"Sorry, it's just I've yet to meet or hear of a vegetarian werewolf. It's just not in our nature."

Not even breakfast could stay the same or go unspoiled by werewolf-related changes. After a second look at Keryn's face, Devon knew it was irrational, but she couldn't suppress her frustration.

"Of course. So, let me guess, you're like nine hundred and fifty years old or something?" Devon asked, her voice crisp with irritation.

"Oh my god, why would you think that?" Keryn's mouth twitched a little, the edges turning down slightly.

Devon sensed that Keryn was the type to be easily hurt, and her question must have walked that thin line of offensive. It was a gentle self-reminder that this wasn't Jesse that she was speaking too.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be offensive. I'm still new to all of this. So were you _bitten_ like me?"

Keryn was already shaking her head. "No, you misunderstood, I'm like Jenn's kids: I was born a wolf. In this house actually. I'm only 18."

"So why aren't you in school? I mean this is a weekday isn't it?"

Devon couldn't help but notice that Keryn was avoiding eye contact as she stirred the contents of the bowl. She watched as the young girl's jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, as though she were nervous and trying to decide how best to answer.

"Well yes and no. Going to school is a tricky one for us. We can't have young children going to public school for obvious reasons."

"And that would be?" Devon asked.

"That's right, obvious to us, not to someone who didn't...never mind let me start again. For the first few years, we have no choice but to homeschool younger wolves. Well at least until they can keep the family secrets from the normies. I graduated last year from a regular high school. I finished a year earlier than other people my age, but that's okay. By the time I got into school all the cliques were established, which made me into an outsider. So, I just pushed ahead and finished early instead of trying to be popular."

It was painfully apparent that Keryn could benefit from a solid friendship. Devon felt kind of sad for Keryn and could now see why she was so eager to please people. "Wow. That must have been difficult keeping all of _this_ from people."

"It's not that bad. Plus, if you think about it, there are so many options when aging is not really an issue." Keryn lowered her voice to a muted whisper. "I did enroll myself in a web design course over in Seattle next year. I haven't told anyone yet, so please keep that between us. I'm not sure what I want to be when I grow up, but it's a start."

"I guess it would be hard to pick one career when you have centuries to grow up. Even I could take a whole series of professions, if..."

"If what?" Keryn was curious.

"If I'm allowed to live." The look on Keryn's face said it all; she had either heard Rowland last night or already knew.

Keryn stopped stirring the mixture as she placed it on the counter. Both girls stared blankly at it: the batter had become so thick that the whisk now stood straight up unattended.

"Um, do you have any cereal?" Devon asked.

Both girls laughed after a moment, breaking the tension of such a heavy conversation.

Maybe cereal will help calm her body's craving. She did admit with a touch of embarrassment that she would consider cooking the bacon herself. Devon could tell that Keryn was ready to admit defeat on the whole breakfast preparation project.

Keryn pushed her hair out of her eyes with a smile, looking around at the mess she had made of the pancakes. "Yeah, it might be safer that way."

Half an hour later they sat across from one another in the center of the kitchen. Devon was still struggling with her feelings towards the now cooked bacon that sat cooling on the plate between them. Although she genuinely wanted to resist its temptation the smell made her stomach ache no matter how much cereal she shoveled into her mouth.

"So, those rooms upstairs...does Jesse live in one of them?" She asked between spoonfuls.

"We all live here." The answer came from behind Devon, delivered in a man's voice.

While Keryn glanced up casually, Devon turned sharply on her stool to see if this soothing voice matched who she thought it was. Indeed, it was the same man she'd stormed past on her way out of the council room yesterday. Devon had all but forgotten about him; she felt bad about it since he seemed prepared to shield her against Smith's hostility.

Still, she didn't know who he was or what his role was amongst the family. The young man circled the island to take a spot beside Keryn as he reached over to steal a piece of the untouched bacon.

"Well," he said, chewing thoughtfully, waiting to swallow before speaking. "Let me correct myself. We all have _rooms_ here, but most of us live stretched out amongst the surrounding areas to make things seem less _odd_."

"Odd might be an understatement, and it came way too late for me," Keryn piped in. "A bunch of people at my old high school thought I lived with a cult at one point. Try living that rumor down."

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Connor." The newcomer extended his hand across the table with grace. Devon returned the handshake and was slightly amazed by his brash confidence; though she did her best to conceal it. Connor was handsome and well dressed. Everything in his manner was inviting and friendly, a complete contrast to Rowland. Devon found it challenging to grasp that this golden college boy was a full-fledged werewolf. His whole look closely resembled a junior executive or a model in a GQ ad campaign.

"It wouldn't be far off to assume that you had something to do with Derrick's change in wardrobe over the last year?" She asked.

Behind his eyes, the higher points of his amusement dissipated at the mention of the name. His face fell, almost to the angle of not making eye contact with her. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Devon," he said. "Derrick was a friend and brother to me. He will be missed around here more than you may yet understand."

_Seriously, how could anyone argue with that?_ There was no doubting that his condolences were sincere and well meant. Still, everything about this was unusual. To sit here grieving the loss of someone she loved so deeply, with people she had only just met. Devon's feelings of separation only increased with the reminder that Derrick had led a secondary life alongside the one he shared with her.

"Well, you both have had longer to mourn him than I have." She felt a touch of guilt at her statement. Still, it wasn't fair that her memories and that time had been stolen. The newness of his death and its aftermath was overshadowing the event itself. Devon's loss like all loss needed to be processed in stages, and everyone else was ahead of her in that regard.

His hand reached across the table and covered Devon's. "It's okay, and you're right. Just remember that there are no rules on how you are supposed to feel from one moment to the next." Warmth spread up her arms into her chest; his touch was smooth and gentle. His grey eyes were solemn; she knew his words were sincere, and not just something to appease her.

"Connor," Keryn's brow creased. There was a hard glare to her eyes as she nudged him in the side with her elbow, causing his hand to retract.

His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Devon was thankful that Keryn stepped in to break it up. With her grief of losing Derrick so fresh, she was not prepared for the conflicting emotions sweeping through her at the thought of being physically consoled by another man, even with something as innocent has hand-holding.

Had grief counselors ever coached someone through the bite of a werewolf, along with the death of a loved one? Getting advice from a pack member would be hard, how could she trust that it wasn't unbiased. Perhaps there were therapists in this world who happened to be werewolves themselves.

On the brink of asking, she realized that she was off in a daze before focusing in on Keryn. For some reason, she was smiling, watching Devon with a sly look. While she contemplated the existence of a werewolf shrink, her hands had unconsciously walked their way to the plate and back. It was too late, and she was already chewing the bacon without her awareness. She thought about spitting out what was currently in her mouth, but its savory taste made that an impossible task. Removing another piece from the plate, she bit into it with a sigh of pleasure. Connor watched, aware something significant had occurred, although he was at a loss over what it was.

"Are you okay, Devon?" he asked.

Keryn answered for her, laughing. "Devon's a vegetarian. Well, at least she was up until 2 minutes ago."

"Ahh I see," he said, his grin returning. "The good news is, even after three hundred years that taste is just as _pleasurable_."

Devon's face flushed slightly red as she smiled back, until what he said fully sank in. _Wait, did he just say he's three hundred years old?_

Keryn rolled her eyes at them both, cutting the discussion short. "If you two are done," she said. "I'm heading into town. If you're up for it, you could come with me, and we can get you some new clothes?"

"With what?" Devon asked, focusing herself on the discussion at hand. "Magic beans? It's not like I can walk into my old bank and take out money. I lost everything when I 'died,' remember?"

"Money sh'money. Don't worry about it. Rowland said we could charge what was needed. It's the least we can do. That is unless you _enjoy_ wearing nothing but black tracksuits?"

"No, I would love something different. These are comfortable but, wait — what if someone sees me?"

Without a word, Connor reached out to take hold of Devon's wrist, this time she pulled her hand away before his skin made contact.

"My apologies," he said, "I didn't intend anything unchaste." He gestured to her hand. "The bracelet, the one on your wrist - may I?"

Devon was only slightly embarrassed by her reaction since she _had_ allowed him to place his hand over hers earlier - still, she nodded, while extending her arm.

Connor reached over and lifted her wrist taking the bracelet delicately between his index finger and thumb. Rotating her wrist, he pointed out the markings engraved along its surface. "This writing here, this is not simply for decoration. It _masks_ you."

"Masks me? What does that mean?"

"Magic." He replied.

"Magic?" The skepticism leeched through her tone.

"Ok, a better way to phrase this. These are magic words carved into the band, a spell, that cause people to see you as someone else. These symbols are just one of the many ways we were able to stay located in one place for over a hundred years without being noticed. Although, it's getting harder these days to create a new identity whenever needed."

Devon looked at him. Still, a bit lost with the whole reality of the conversation.

"On account of how well documented things have become." He grimaced in his expression; his energy shifted enough that Devon could physically feel it.

"What was that look about?" Devon asked, pulling her hand back out of his gentle grip.

Keryn's pursed her lips and frowned, watching this exchange. "Connor is having a hard time expressing his gratitude for the skill set that Jesse brings to the family dynamic," she piped up.

So focused on the change in Connor's energy, Devon continued, oblivious to the change in Keryn's. "Well, this makes things clearer for me. The bracelet I mean. That's why no one knew me when I went into my building... and at the coffee shop. Jesus, whose face am I wearing? If I don't look like myself, then who do I look like?"

Keryn could feel the tension in Devon's energy. "Don't worry. We see you truthfully, the way you have always looked, this kind of magic isn't designed to affect us-"

"As in hocus pocus, magic?" she interrupted. "Seriously?"

Connor nodded as if this whole conversation was normal. "People will see a distorted version of you. Just little things, for instance, your hair will be slightly different, eye color, skin tone, facial features - mostly it is you, but altered enough that people who know you wouldn't be able to perceive your identity."

"You will find a lot of people telling you how familiar you seem, or how _we_ remind them of someone else. That sense of familiarity also helps achieve a calming response from humans; we're easily trusted when we remind someone of their grandson, for example. We also have to be careful. We affect humans with our natural energy, but Rowland will explain more of that to you later."

" _Great_ , I can't wait," she said.

Devon knew that he was doing his best to ignore the continued sarcasm in her voice. He even stood up to offer a slight bow.

"You two ladies enjoy your outing. I really must prepare the council room for this afternoon's training session."

After he had left, Devon looked to Keryn in amusement. "Uh, what was with the _bowing_? And who says _unchaste_?"

"Give the guy a break, he's three hundred years old," Keryn said. "Besides, you are technically going to be the new boss around here."

"Yeah, if I don't get axed instead."

Keryn's expression turned solemn. " _I'm_...I mean _we're_ not going to let that happen."

This statement followed an awkward pause shared between the girls, one that carried on longer than Devon felt she could bear. Thankfully Keryn broke the moment in a sudden burst of excitement.

"Go get ready! We are going shopping!" As soon as she had spoken, her cheeks flushed. Devon was beginning to see how awkward the girl was in her socializing skills, no doubt the side effect from being raised in this house, surrounded by people centuries older than she was.

"Sorry, I'm not normally so big on girly moments like this," Keryn explained. "I'm more likely to get this excited over Buffy or Angel. It's just this is the first time I've had someone close to my age to do things with who isn't a stupid boy."

Devon smiled. As strange and socially painfully as Keryn could be, her enthusiasm and innocence seemed the exact thing needed to whisk her mind away from the dark space left by the visions of her dream.

"It will probably take me another 20 minutes. I just need to finish cleaning up before we go," Keryn said.

"How 'bout I help you, it's not like I need to get changed. Besides we can get out of here faster?" Devon offered.

Keryn's smile of gratitude was all Devon needed. In no time, the girls had finished Keryn's chores and were driving her car into the city.

Within thirty minutes of combing through one of the local malls with its generic clothing stores, Devon could tell something wasn't working. After a bit of prodding and loud sighs, Keryn admitted that most of her shopping was done online or small little stores out in Sooke.

"Oh thank god, I never shop at malls. I like unique small stores and thrift shops." Devon told her. Insisting that the mall was only wasting their time, Devon decided to take Keryn to one of her favorite stores nestled in the downtown core.

As they stepped out from the car, both girls were greeted by traditional Han folk music that blended perfectly with the scenery around them. This beautiful melody came from high up along the speakers of the Chinese archways that stood guard to the historic area that greeted them. Halfway up the street, Devon stopped just before a narrow brick alley to the right of an ornate red post with a sign that listed Fan Tan Alley. This picturesque beauty was once used in the turn of the century to shelter opium dens, gambling halls, and the city's darkest secrets. Men and high up government officials would venture within to purchase foreign women who had been stolen and sold off into the sex trade. No one would know to look at it now; its dark past had been covered up and turned into an attraction for tourists. The high orange brick walls were beautifully lined with small local shops selling clothing, metaphysical items, records, and other wares.

"Come on. It's just down here on the right." Devon took Keryn by the arm as she shoved past rows of tourist blocking the way. Only ten feet in, just above a thickly painted door, hung a hand-painted sign that said Hearts Content in the shape of a white and red banner. Decades of weathering and age had worn away its paint; leaving an antique look. Shopping locally was something Devon had always tried to do. It gave her a sense of joy to support small merchants, rather than throwing money away on cheap crap in large box stores. She knew the shop owners got far more out of her money than any box store employee ever would.

Above them, an old bell chimed as both girls stepped into the shop. The reaction on Keryn's face was just the one Devon was hoping to see. The gleam in her expression lit up the small 20-foot by the 20-foot store as a light gasp escaped her lips. A composed nod came from the woman running the store, but nothing more. The owner was an eccentric older woman who never really shared anything personal with Devon in all the years she frequented the shop. The whole vibe was that of a London underground punk shop mixed with modern day trends. Whichever decade it was, there would always be a new generation looking to fill the punk, goth, and alternative subculture — each one prowling the city on the hunt for a pair of knee-high Doc Martens and intricate fishnets. Different retailers had come and gone, Second Hand Rose, Sideshow, Sam's boutique: Yet over the years, her store evolved and stayed the mile. Maybe it was luck or her knowledge of fashion. Either way, the owner seemed to keep up entirely with the niche styles of the modern day while keeping her mix of iconic wears of the past.

Devon held up a pair of the classic eighteen-hole black Doc Martens raising a brow to Keryn. "I think we both need to get a pair of these, don't you?"

Keryn nodded her head eagerly. "This store is amazing! There is so much stuff in here that I would wear, but I just can't."

"Why?" Devon asked. "It's just clothing."

"I'm taking a big chance in telling you this, but here goes. There is another reason why I want to move next year for school. Don't get me wrong, my dad might seem gruff to you, but I love my Dad with all my heart. This family has always been good to me, but honestly, it can be a bit suffocating for someone my age. It's sad: I'm almost twenty, and I still can't change my wardrobe or style without running it by everyone. As the youngest of the adults, they keep repeating to me that this is our way and the way it's always been, and I'll understand in a few more decades. Social media is only adding paranoia to Rowland and my father's worries of leaving a digital trail. No one in the family is allowed to start a Facebook account."

"Well if I'm going to be in charge, those things will change." Devon smiled putting the boots into Keryn's hands. "Starting with these. We can both get them and if anyone asks you can tell them that I forced you to buy them. Seriously, just buy what you want today, and I'll put it in my closet, and you can borrow it whenever. Come on, is there any rule about borrowing clothes in the werewolf handbook?"

"You're good." Keryn laughed as she sat down to try on the boots. "Just putting it out there - If things changed that much I might be more inclined to stay here on the island than go to school on the mainland. Right now, I want to feel that I'm at least fifty percent in charge of my own life for once. I want my life to be more like your life was. So much of it, you spent making your own choices. All of mine were made for me."

"I was wondering about that. Just how _much_ about my life do you know? Did Derrick talk about me to the family?"

Keryn glanced away from Devon. "Actually, _I've_ been studying you before Rowland even approached Derrick. We knew he had been chosen to lead after Rowland, but we still had to assess you and see if you were a liability. Sorry I know it's a huge invasion of privacy, and I hope you can forgive me for it."

"I doubt you would have been given much choice in the matter."

"Yes and no. I did have a choice, but it was either I do it or someone like my father. I guess I thought I was a better candidate since I was closer to your age. If you were a liability, well... who knows what could have happened. Rowland and my father will do _anything_ to protect this family." Keryn's wide brown eyes looked back at Devon, " _Anything_."

"That's pretty fucked up. You know that right?"

"Oh, I agree. I'm a different person and age than all of them. Most of them have been protecting our secrets for hundreds of years. That was my argument when I took on your case. I didn't think it was fair for someone not from this century to judge someone born in it."

"Well for what it's worth, thank you." Devon gestured to the shop owner. "We'll take the boots, wrap them up please."

"Wai.."

"Shut it, and I'm the boss remember." Devon laughed. "You said it back in the house. They took my life, and you have been the kindest person through all of this awful mess. If it weren't for you and Jesse, I would be out of here. The least they can do is get us a new wardrobe on the house."

Several hours and stores later, laden down with their prizes, they headed back towards the car. "Hold on a minute. I just want to stop in here and get a coffee. This place has the best americanos in Victoria."

"Devon no, we need to get back to the house." Keryn pulled at her arm.

"Seriously it will only take a second." Devon shook her arm free, as she opened the heavily painted green doors to the Bean Around the World Coffeehouse. Looking back at Keryn instead of watching where she was going, Devon slammed right into an older gentleman.

"Harold..." Devon stuttered as she stood there frozen in the doorway, staring into the face of her old bank manager.

"Sorry? But do I know you?" The man looked puzzled as he searched her face.

"Oh..." there was a moment of panic from Devon...The bank! "Sorry, you work at my bank. I remember one of the tellers mentioned your name." Devon had _just_ prevented a situation from starting as she tried to act as nonchalant as possible.

All around her a cold feeling began to fill the room, as if some invisible gas was pouring in from behind, sending chills along her spine. As the tension built, it caused her heart rate to increase. Everyone sitting in the narrow café tables, all slowly stopped what they were doing to stare past her in the direction of the door. Conversations drifted into a muted chatter; even her old manager stared blankly past her shoulder with a concerned look. As she joined the gaze of the patrons, her eyes came upon the fearful and panicked look that clung to Keryn's face. Her mind sending out the energy to match.

"No more coffee for you." Devon laughed as she put her arm around Keryn, moving her past the other customers that were waiting to enter and escorting her down the street. Within half a block, Devon pulled Keryn into the alcove of a boarded-up shop front.

"I told Rowland it would just be the malls! Shit, I'm going to be in so much trouble when we get back. If he finds out you've talked to someone from your old life..." Keryn was starting to verge on hysterics, unable to finish. Her breath was panicked as her fingers pulled at the edges of her coat. "This was a bad idea. We should never have come downtown..."

"Keryn, what the hell was that? Pull your yourself together; _nothing_ bad happened in there." Of course, Devon was half lying in hopes of calming her down. That was a situation she wasn't ready for at all.

Devon's hands cupped Keryn's shoulders. "Just breathe, look at me and slow your breathing." It worked when Rowland did it to her, why not with Keryn?

Whatever she was doing seemed to be working. The panicked energy around them began to return to a normal state.

Keryn took Devon's hands from her shoulders "I'm okay, you don't have to do that anymore. I'm not going to transform and go berzerker. That's only something Alphas can do."

"Are you sure?"

Keryn nodded.

"Good, now that you are okay. I'm going back in there to get my coffee. You can wait out here or laugh it off and come inside."

Keryn agreed. "I don't know if I'll be able to laugh it off, but I'm good enough to go back in."

They decided to sit in the café for a bit longer after Devon convinced Keryn that she needed to calm down more before heading back to the house. It would be a dead giveaway to Rowland if he sensed that kind of nervous energy from the young pack member. The girls chose a booth toward the far back away from prying ears. The silence dragged out for a few minutes, Keryn's hands incessantly twisting the sleeve around her paper coffee cup between sips.

"I'm nervous about training because I don't know what that even means. What does _training_ involve?" Devon asked, both because she was curious, and to help distract Keryn from what had almost happened.

"How to fight, weapons, skills you might need in the next couple months."

"Why would I need to know how to fight?" Devon asked.

"You don't think any of us are going to let you die do you?"

"Well, not all of you. I don't feel like a popular choice here. This position was supposed to be Derrick's after all." Devon refrained from mentioning that she was pretty sure Smith wouldn't exactly mourn her passing.

"Rowland isn't going to come out and say it to you or any of us, but he knows we would all rather fight them. Trust me. No one wants the alternative future if we don't."

"You mean me dying?"

"It's not just about you dying. Rowland did fill you in on what happens if _Orin_ does not accept you?"

"So you were listening to us in the woods."

"Sorry, werewolf ears. I'm pretty sure everyone that was still in the house was listening."

_Orin_ , the name created mixed emotions within her "Honestly I didn't even know this person had a name. Rowland did mention something about the families having to merge. I thought he was just being dramatic. I just thought that after I died, he would keep on being miserable until the next Alpha was chosen."

"It's so much more than that and complicated is an understatement. Devon, you don't know that other family. I'm also not supposed to talk to you about them, not yet. Rowland _needs_ to explain this better. Please don't ask me." Keryn's eyes pleaded for her to stop pursuing more information.

"Fine, I'll wait. I guess we should be getting back soon. Don't worry I won't bug you. I'll ask him when we get home. So what about training? Are you going to train with me?"

"Haha, yeah right. Like that will ever happen."

"Why not? I thought you said _everyone_ needs to be ready." Devon asked.

"Well yes I did, but," Keryn's energy shifted, as her eyes dropped back to her fidgeting hands. "I'm forbidden. We're not allowed to do what an Alpha forbids us to do."

"Why would Rowland do that?" Devon asked.

"Because of my dad." Her voice was barely above a whisper, choking on the words.

"Ok, well that's an easy fix. I'm an Alpha, can't I tell you to train with me?" Devon smiled.

Keryn's head shot up, hope lighting up her eyes. "I never really thought about it, but yeah, I guess you could make those calls. I would have to try and see if it would even work. It's not just about obedience or loyalty; our bodies will physically lock up if it's something we have been forbidden to do by an Alpha. Seriously, my dad would never let me, not with what happened to my mom."

"I noticed that she wasn't there the other night. I didn't want to pry."

"It's okay, and I appreciate that. I'm open to talking about it. I just wouldn't classify that under coffee talk."

"Fair enough, but let me ask you: Do you want to train with me?"

"Of course, I do!" Keryn's eyes blazed, and Devon felt her energy surge with passion. "I would be lying if I didn't say that it scares me, but yeah I would love to learn. I can't see how we could. My dad is always there, so the house is a no go. Plus, we would need weapons," she laughed. "You have to understand my dad keeps the weapons in his forge and he's very particular of their care."

"What about the ones upstairs in the rooms? The different swords and stuff hanging on the walls? Could we use those and go somewhere else?"

"Like where?" Keryn asked.

"It's simple. We tell them we are going _shopping_." Devon grinned.

Chapter Eleven

FIST OF CALANEDH

A few hours later, Devon was unloading several bags of winter clothing and boots from the trunk of Keryn's '97 Honda Civic Ex. The car itself illustrated another side of Keryn's personality, its loud metallic green finish seeming an odd match to the quiet demeanor Devon was growing accustomed to.

Keryn went alittle overboard buying items to hide away in Devon's closet, even buying them two matching large black jackets. Devon was confused until Keryn reminded her that as much as she wouldn't suffer from extreme temperatures, it was still necessary to dress for the seasons. Otherwise, people might find it strange to see someone wearing a tank top in the middle of January.

Neither of the girls could ignore the strange tension encircling the atmosphere as they came through the main doors. The instant shift in Keryn's attitude was unnerving as she reached out, pulling at the bags and parcels in Devon's hands.

"Here, let me take these up to your room," she said in a panicked voice. "Rowland is waiting for you in the council room. We took too long in town. I'm sorry."

Devon stood there barehanded watching Keryn run full tilt up the staircase, bags flailing in her arms as she made her retreat. With a stark glare, her head turned towards the doors and her fists clenched. With a few steps, Devon pushed her way in to find Rowland waiting as Keryn said, seated on his throne. He looked to her with his unsatisfied glare as the two stood in a moment of silence with each other.

"What the hell was all that about?" she asked, pointing towards the door. "Why was Keryn all freaked out? Even I could feel it when we entered the house."

"Keryn knows better than to disobey her Alpha; your training should have begun hours ago. What you both sensed was my displeasure having to wait." Rowland said as he leaned forward towards Devon.

"So, let me get this straight. You've been sitting here stewing for hours putting everyone's nerves on edge? You might be over three hundred years old and everything, but Keryn does have a cell phone. Why don't you make use of some of this century's advantages? Instead of acting like a spoiled child?"

Rowland only continued to glare.

"Well," she said, "I'm here now. Let's get on with it."

It was shitty of Rowland to create such a hostile environment for Keryn to come home to, yet it was the perfect motivation to take Devon's nervousness about training and turn it into a source of anger.

No sooner than she had spoken, there was a shift in the air behind her. She spun without thinking, reaching out to grab the blade of a sword as it came bearing down above her head. Stopping its downward momentum with little resistance, she stared across in shock at the weapon's wielder. Connor's face was tense; teeth clenched tight with a smile as his cheeks pulsated. The muscles in his arms strained with the effort as he pushed down along the middle of the blade with his hand.

Connor unclenched his cheeks and let his smile soften as he stepped back, relaxing his grip. "Impressive," he said, lowering the sword.

Trembling with adrenaline, she turned her palm, expecting to find it horribly gashed. Instead of open tendons, there was no cut, no redness, not even signs of a bruise.

"How?" she asked, feeling over the palm of her hand.

He seemed delighted by her astonishment. "Thankfully Jesse didn't spoil all the surprises," he said.

Rowland stepped away from his throne toward Devon, his frown of displeasure replaced by one of assessment. He pointed toward her outreached hand "Your new skin has become your armor, tough as the shield of Govannon, the God of smithcraft. This ability was the gift he bestowed upon our people thousands of years ago, a way to protect our fragile human bodies from our enemies and the ravages of time."

_So that's how I survived the river that night_. Devon thought before wiping her hand along the side of her leg, as though to erase the blade's touch. "Then... what's the point of training at all if I can't be killed?" she asked.

"It has a cycle, and during this cycle, it fades. This gift of protection was essential for our survival when we first received it," he explained. "In days leading up to the full moon, our skin becomes soft and weak, to lend ease to the coming change. You have learned first-hand that we shed our skin each full moon, which is why your tattoos are now gone. This process is sacred to this family and part of a ritual that takes place here each month. In return, one of our God's blesses us with a new body."

Connor placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her face to face, holding her eyes with his. "This is very important to remember. We cannot change at will, only you and Rowland can. The rest of _your_ family's weakest time is during the full moon, it's when we are most vulnerable to attack. If non-Alphas are hurt during the time of the wolf without having time to change back into human form, their internal damage becomes trapped under their skin. That damage won't heal until the next full moon. We've had pack members in the past with bullets festering inside of them for a month until they are reborn again. Keryn's mother was the last pack member we lost during a full moon."

Connor's face fell, taking the same torn expression Devon had seen earlier when they spoke of Derrick. She was starting to see that the loss of one of their own was especially painful and that the pack had long memories for the things that harmed them.

Rowland firmly gripped Connor's shoulder in a sign of compassion, before standing beside him. "Devon, you may be an Alpha," he said sternly, "but you can still die.

"Yeah, Jesse covered some of this yesterday with me in the woods," Devon responded.

"Well be assured we will cover this repeatedly in your training. We, like all things, are finite - and this is why training is essential. Being an Alpha means that you have control; you have the ability to change at will. That means your role during the full moon is to protect the members of this family when they are at their most vulnerable. As they change, the wolf is given its freedom to enjoy its animal nature. It will take over the human mind leaving them only slightly aware of what is happening.

"If you start viewing each member as your children, it will help with your integration, Devon. They are your family, and they will rely on you, always."

_Wow, no pressure_ , she thought. "That's great and all," she said, "but are you forgetting that there's still a chance I may not even be accepted as pack Alpha."

Rowland's face broke into a smile. "Well, that's better than not wanting it at all," he said. "And just another reason why you needed to start your training earlier today. When being faced with life or death, every minute counts."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm a fast learner."

"Your change of attitude is one I had not anticipated, at least not this soon. I'm curious. What changed since last night?"

"Nothing. I learned a long time ago that life isn't fair," she said. "Life doesn't always turn out the way you want, and sometimes you have to do what's necessary to survive."

"An admirable outlook," Rowland turned to Connor. "Give her a sword," he instructed.

Along the edge of the room, Connor retrieved a long folding bag which rested on another stone chair. Kneeling, he rolled it out across the bronze floor to reveal an assortment of polished swords.

Devon crouched down to study them, noting that most of the swords were in a Japanese style similar to the ones she had seen in a martial arts store that Derrick favored. A few of them were called katanas, a name she remembered from countless samurai films watched with Derrick. Though each was beautifully made, she especially favored one of the more massive looking blades, a solid longsword. Devon's arm flew back as she pulled it from its sleeve, causing her almost to topple backward if it wasn't for Connor catching her arm to steady her. She was thrown off balance by its size and weight, expecting it to be cumbersome. Instead, it was as light as an umbrella as she lifted it back toward her gaze.

Rowland walked to the door. "I will ask Keryn to bring you dinner in a few hours," he said before departing.

Connor faced Rowland's direction, bowing this time with a higher air of formality than he had done with Devon. Although she may be next in line to become pack Alpha, it was clear she was yet to be regarded as Rowland's equal. She observed the exchange, watching Rowland's non-reaction to the display. By this point in his life, how could he not be used to the formality of it? In her mental checklist, this was something that would have to be abolished when she became Alpha.

Once the door had closed behind him, Devon turned towards Connor only to have him swat her sword, knocking it from her hand.

"The first rule," he warned, "never take your eyes from your opponent."

"You must be a real hit with the ladies," she said as she collected her sword from the ground.

"During our sessions, you need to train as though you are vulnerable. Do not assume your skin will always protect you because it won't. Now, why did you pick that sword? The others are much more elegant, more... feminine?"

"You do know that's pretty sexist? But then again, you are really old."

He smiled. "And you are much too pretty to be so hostile."

Using her peripheral vision, Devon walked sideways, circling her opponent. Not allowing her eyes to leave Connor's movements, she matched his pace around the room. "If you must know, I had a dream about a sword similar to this one last night," she explained. "Except the one in my dream was more elaborate; it was covered in markings similar to the ones on my bracelet."

Connor seemed to have expected a more practical answer, only giving her a slight nod of understanding. Perhaps the fact of having chosen the sword on account of a dream satisfied his old-fashioned views of women.

"Keep your sword raised higher, your guard is wide open. I still think a small, slender sword would suit you better, but since you have chosen this weapon," he said, "let's see what you can do with it. Come at me."

"Seriously? Aren't you going to show me some moves, first?"

"You can't hurt me, Devon. At least you shouldn't be able to." Connor looked slightly nervous after making his statement.

"No! What if I break the sword? I've busted a few things lately on account of my newfound strength."

"The sword is enchanted by the symbols along the blade and hilt, same as is your bracelet. Smith would be laughing if he heard you. That man has had centuries of practice, and he knows his craft well. I've yet to see one of his creations break."

"So he's the one who puts the symbols on them? _Enchants_ them? I would have figured it was your wizard."

Connor laughed loudly, "The Druid you mean. It's been a very long time since I've heard him referenced as a wizard. You are not entirely wrong. Smith does make all of our armor. Only he knows how the placement of the symbols and how to create these special alloys. The Druid blesses his creations after each piece is forged, allowing them to be masked from humans, the way our bracelets mask us. These are just a few of the tricks in which we've survived for so long."

"So why else do you train? I'm the first time a female Alpha has been created. It has to be more than this issue with Orin. I am I right?"

"Other things...." Connor's words trailed off.

"Other things?" She repeated his words back to him.

"Sometimes, we have to hunt."

The ominous tone he gave to the word piqued Devon's interest. "Hunt? Hunt what? You had the same expression before. Is that what happened to Keryn's mum?"

"Yes, it was. But that's not a conversation for us to be having. We are here so that you may learn how to prevent such future occurrences." He turned away. "It hasn't been easy, but we have avoided war and conflict no matter how many lines have been crossed. The last war was long before I became a member of this family. But, it seems in the coming months that may no longer be the case."

"You mean because of me."

"We've been sworn to follow the leader of this house, whoever that may be. Your survival means our survival. No one in this house is eager at the prospect of existing under Orin's command."

"Rowland mentioned him last night. He's the other Alpha?"

Rather than answer, he suddenly turned, lunging with the point of his sword. "Enough talk!" he shouted.

Devon clumsily blocked his advance, sliding her blade against his.

"We need to focus on training now," he insisted. "I gave you plenty of opportunities to launch an attack, and you did nothing but create noise. Now come at me!"

His criticism was just the thing needed. The thought of Connor regarding her as weak released a primal response that came quickly to the surface. She was heir to the pack; Who the hell was he to question her? These personal judgments were enraging, and without any further thought, she charged.

Connor stepped aside, tripping her with his leg as she came bearing down. Pivoting, he sliced open the back of her shirt with a flick of his wrist as she stumbled past.

"What the hell, I just bought this shirt!" She launched another attack, swinging her sword towards his right side. He blocked it, only to have his arm buckle under the force as she pushed. Scraping against the skin of his chest, the blade of his sword cut into the fabric of his loose tunic.

Devon grinned with satisfaction. "I guess we're even. That'll teach you to mess with a woman's wardrobe."

With a look of astonishment in his eyes, he barked out a laugh. "I give, I give," he protested. He stepped back, shaking his head in awe, as Devon raised her sword back into position. "Your strength is... awe-inspiring," he confessed. "It makes me wonder if Rowland has been holding back when we spar.

"Or maybe women are just more superior as Alphas."

"Maybe. You are the first of our kind. Still, your strength will never be enough without proper techniques, strategy, and tactics. In all seriousness, you need it more than we do. As for your clothes, I'm sorry, I got carried away." He gestured towards the chair, nearest the collection of swords. "I brought a few extra tracksuits just over there, so we needn't ruin any more of our clothes."

"Nice try," she said. "I'm not going to change right here."

He smiled at her modesty. "Why not?"

"If I do, you have to turn around."

"You will learn that nudity is not all that shocking after three hundred years," he said, turning around all the same.

She quickly changed clothes, checking to make sure Connor kept his word. With his back now turned, she crept up soundlessly, laying the edge of her sword against the back of his neck.

"Someone let their guard down," she said softly.

"And someone else neglected to consider the reflective surfaces above," he answered.

Devon looked up to see her reflection clearly above them, giving Connor a moment to reach behind taking the sword from her hands while kicking back hard. He knocked her to the floor, causing her to roll across the metal surface, before tossing the sword across the room.

She lay brushing the hair from her face, staring up at Connor who now stood over her, offering his hand.

"That was cheap," she said with a sneer.

"I never looked, I promise."

"You didn't look? Are _all_ the men gay around here, or just Jesse?" she asked, dusting herself off as she marched across the room to collect her sword.

"Not gay, simply well mannered," he called back.

"You didn't need to throw my sword." As she spoke, Devon was caught by a sudden premonition of danger, causing her to pivot around. "What the h-"

BANG! The impact of the slug sent her stumbling back across the metal grating. Devon's body hunched as her arms protectively clutched her stomach.

Laughing from a few feet away, Connor pumped the shotgun clearing the chamber. Both of her hands combed through the shredded remains of her shirt, frantically searching out of shock for signs of injury. Satisfied there were no marks on her skin, she breathed in deeply, calming her panic. For the first time, she felt a new thrill: not the adrenaline of fight or flight but the rush of invulnerability.

Connor threw the shotgun across the room while Devon reached out catching it in one hand.

"Come on." He gestured her forward, arms spread wide with a devilish gleam in his eye, egging her on to retaliate.

"Go ahead. You can't hurt me."

All of her movements became smoother and more fluid as the day progressed. Devon repeatedly launched attacks against Connor with everything she had. Still, no matter how hard she tried, he kept one step ahead, tapping her with the flat of his sword. She knew he was capable of being rougher — his brief demonstration with the shotgun had proved it. Instead, everything was focused on teaching her to maintain form rather than revel in destruction. As to be expected, Devon was frustrated, feeling as though she were ready to give up. Thankfully, Keryn saved her the embarrassment of admitting defeat when she entered the room with a tray full of food.

"Anyone for a floor picnic? I'm pretty sure you could use this by now," Keryn suggested.

Both Connor and Devon were slick with sweat, their clothes shredded and torn from the onslaught of shotgun fire. When Keryn set down the tray, the two immediately dropped to the floor, crouched next to it like two hungry children. Even though Devon was starving, she reached for the water first, gulping it down loudly.

"Are you okay?" Devon asked Keryn. "I told Rowland it was my fault we were late, which was true. If we hadn't ventured to china-town, we would have been home in time. I also told Rowland he was being ridiculous," she said, refilling her already empty glass.

"I'm okay, really. Even though it's startling at first, you get used to not taking an Alpha's energy personally. Well, once the energy has cleared."

Connor wiped food from the corner of his mouth. "Our ability to Sense each other's energy is highly important: it can bring help or warn someone without having to say anything. That's especially useful when we're out as a unit, hunting."

"Connor..." Devon stopped him, with a glance towards Keryn.

"I appreciate it, but don't worry about me. It's okay, really," Keryn said. "I was going to tell you about my mum. I just didn't want to ruin our outing. Honestly, I was very young, and I don't remember much about her except that we look a lot alike and she had the most beautiful smile. I was well taken care of in the pack, Jenn was my second mom while I was growing up around here. She said I was part of her decision to finally have children in her life."

"Well, you got more than I did," Her bitterness faded quickly, feeling almost faint with bliss as she bit into the ham sandwich. For Devon, being vegetarian was a natural choice since childhood. Especially after witnessing a video of animals butchered at a slaughterhouse from one of the other foster kids. Apparently, her natural human instincts were quickly being taken over for the ones of her wolf.

"Getting back to Connor's point, he's right," Keryn said, "It really is an essential skill.

While they ate, Devon looked down curiously sticking her fingers between the gaps in the floor's design. Now and then, she could feel cold air stirring beneath the grate, reminding her of Jabba the Hutt's trap floor. The association left her feeling unnerved, as though it all might open up at any moment to swallow her.

"So, who's going to tell me what's down there?" she asked, pointing.

"Our lair," Keryn said as both her and Connor's expressions turned severe.

"Your lair?" Devon looked nervous as a chill ran up her neck.

Both of them started laughing. "I'm just messing with you, see energy can make an entire conversation shift if you want to." Keryn replied. "It's where we change on the full moon. I can take you down there if you want? Rowland surprisingly said no house restrictions."

Connor cleared his throat loudly. "May I remind you ladies that we are still training? It's only been a few hours."

"Well, how about you get the armor ready from Dad's workshop and we'll meet you down there?" Keryn asked.

"That would be an acceptable compromise. But after that we get back to training or Rowland will have my hide."

For a moment, Keryn appeared torn between the desire to taunt Connor or to simply agree. Perhaps given her recent brush with Rowland's displeasure, she chose the latter. "Fair enough."

Standing up, Connor walked to the back of the room, where the largest of the elegant tapestries hung down to the floor. Even in the darkest part of the room, the details were lit up from the starlight which shone through the domed glass above. He turned, with a sly smile as he pushed against the tapestry's edge. After a click, his hand pulled back revealing it to be more than mere decoration. The luxurious fabric draped against the wall was a hidden door, concealing a wide-open gate.

Devon could see how much Connor relished the process of revealing this hidden gem to such a newbie — she hadn't given it much thought until now, but when would the pack members have that opportunity? Now, holding open the false door, he gleamed, anticipating her response.

She was amazed. "That goes into the hillside?"

He nodded.

"Wow, very cloak and dagger," she said approvingly.

Still smiling, he gestured towards the open passage. "Ladies first."

Once they'd passed the gate, the candles lining the walls flickered alive with a soft blue light.

"How...?" Devon pointed at the walls.

"You can thank the Druid later for that little trick." Keryn snickered before taking her arm. "This way, come on."

At the end of the passage, the tunnel broke into a divide. On the left was a circular room with a round base roughly three feet high resembling an old covered well. A closed hinged gate sealed the opening and just above the back a large chained hook was secured into the ceiling, causing images to flood Devon's head from the slaughterhouse she mentioned earlier.

The other route offered a staircase, leading deeper into the hill. Without addressing them Connor descended, making his way to the Smith's workshop. When Devon approached the cover, she noticed that beneath the gate was a long drop that continued into the darkness.

"We won't be too long!" Keryn called after him. Once he was out of sight, she lifted the thick metal hatch effortlessly from the ground with one hand, allowing it to rest on the hook above.

With a smile, she jumped up onto the ledge and said: "Meet you at the bottom." As soon as she'd spoken, she hopped from the rim, waving as she fell into the abyss.

"Keryn!" She watched her drop, as Devon's stomach sank. She stepped as close to the edge as she dared, leaning forward far enough to peer down. She couldn't see Keryn, though she could hear her calling up from the bottom of the pit.

"Come on, jump!" her voice echoed, urging Devon forward.

Even with the large hole in her shirt from the shotgun, Devon had spent a lifetime creating a bond with gravity. "Nothing can hurt you," she whispered to herself. Closing her eyes, she stepped up to the edge and looked into nothingness before jumping in.

As she began her descent, her system grappled for control by reaching out at the walls. Though the tunnel received no light, her eyes had adjusted enough to see the stone walls rushing past her face.

"Brace for impact!" Keryn shouted.

Below her, the tunnel rapidly expanded above another metal grate. As it had by the river, her body had already prepared for its landing. Without any effort, she arrived at the bottom in an unsteady crouch.

Standing nearby, Keryn stood snickering. "You'll get used to it; some people think it's the wolf inside subconsciously protecting us," she said.

Devon steadied her balance as she arose to look around. Just like the one above, the tunnel they now occupied branched out.

"This way to the catacombs," Keryn called over her shoulder, already making her way towards a glow of light ahead.

Within a minute they reached the end of the passageway. Looking up Devon could see they were standing beneath the council room. Between the gaps in the bronze grate, the stars shone vividly through far above their heads - revealing a pattern of three wolves interlocking making up the floor.

"Whoa... did your dad make that also?" she stood appraising the effect.

"He sure did," Keryn replied as she smiled at the admiration of her father's work.

Devon's fingers slid over the pattern on her bracelet after noticing the underside of the ornate floor was inscribed with the same runes. "Is the floor enchanted?" she asked.

Keryn smiled. "Good eye. Normal metal wouldn't last as long with several werewolves trying to break through it. Also, the entire house is earthquake proof by way of enchantment."

"Huh," was all she could muster as a response. To believe that magic was possible was incredible and also hard to wrap her head around. Still, she tried her best to take things at face value in order to move forward.

From her mental list of curiosities, Devon chose one of the most recent. "How is it that I could see so much back there on the way down without the candles on the wall? That's a new one for me."

"Our people used to live in hill forts," Keryn explained, as though reciting from memory.

"We didn't cover hillforts in werewolf 101 yesterday." Devon quipped.

"Sorry, they used to build their villages at the top of a hill. Around each village was a series of walls and barricades which circled the hill. Basically, they used the higher ground as a defensive advantage. What people don't know is they often made use of tunnels as well, for ritual purposes and all kinds of things. So, combine all of that with the traits of the wolf, its part and parcel of being who we are."

Devon always had a difficult time with religious ideals, choosing to avoid the subject early today in fear of offending someone. Still, without Jesse being around to ask blunt questions, Keryn would have to do.

"You guys actually believe that gods exist?"

"Let me ask you given the information you now possess. Do you believe in werewolves?" Keryn asked in return.

At a loss for argument, Devon nodded. "Yeah, good point." She crouched down, running her hand through the soil below, before raising it to her nose, compelled to breathe in the scent of the earth.

"I smell blood?" she asked.

"Yeah, this is where we change during the full moon."

"Everyone?"

Keryn nodded. "Everyone, even the children."

"Even me, will I be down here?" Devon asked.

"No, Alphas change above us. Your blood pouring and the moon is part of the ceremony. I know, it sounds gross, but something during those moments makes it all feel natural."

"I will have to take your word on that," Devon replied.

"The rest of us aren't in control when we change. It's when our human side is at its weakest, and the wolf demands its freedom. These tunnels go on for miles allowing us to run. You and your wolf share a symbiotic relationship, that's why you can change whenever you want to. We are chasing a circle of rebirth with ours."

"Like a dog chasing its tail," Devon laughed.

"I would keep that analogy to yourself. There are people in this family that might find being referred to as a dog kind of insulting."

"Sorry." Devon could feel that offense had already been taken to her remark.

While they talked, Devon had risen, walking over to the nearest stone passage. As a means of getting acquainted with things, she was noticing more often that she wanted to use her basic senses. It wasn't enough anymore to simply look with her eyes, she needed to touch, and smell anything that caught her interest. Devon would have to remember to keep those impulses well in check around regular people. Otherwise, things could get very awkward. As she ran an exploratory hand along the stone wall, the face of the man from her dream leaped to the forefront of her mind, followed by another flash of the tunnels, and the memory of his screams.

"I've been here," she said.

"What do you mean?" Keryn asked.

"I've been here before, in my dream last night. I chased a man through these tunnels... he was screaming, and I killed him. It was so clear." She turned attempted reading Keryn's face, but there was no sign in the other girl's expression to suggest alarm over what she was hearing.

"That's something Rowland will have to explain," Keryn said. "I'm surprised how quickly things are coming to you."

Of course, Devon wanted to dive more deeply into what she knew, but if this information breached into Rowland territory, Keryn would refuse to say another word. Instead, she shrugged it off. "Come on, let's go see if Connor is ready."

The armory was the most impressive part of the house Devon had seen, not for the way it was structured, but for its contents. The room itself was circular, widespread, following past a large archway. Along the walls, evenly spaced stone alcoves were carved, each containing a suit of armor displayed on a beautifully detailed wooden silhouette. Inside those, along the side mannequins hung a variety of weapons similar to the displays in the upstairs rooms. It was easy to tell from the varying heights and sizes that they were designed specifically for each member of the family. Ahead of her, past the finished armor, was a magnificent display that gave the illusion of dividing the archway into the workshop. Through the sides, she could see the forge bellowing smoke into a chimney, alongside several anvils and a large grinding stone. Outside of fantasy video games and films about dragons and castles she had never seen this sort of equipment.

"Are you ready for us?" Keryn asked Connor. "I don't see any armor ready?"

"I would be, but nothing is ready yet," he replied.

Devon was far more interested in the room around her, noticing against the far side of the forge held a high door. "Where does that lead?"

"That's where my dad lives. Everything in here is his work; he's always been very dedicated to his craft. Go ahead, look around."

Up above her, the high stone ceiling was painted to match the night sky.

She took a moment before passing each alcove, marveling at the precision and quality of their craftsmanship. Gold plates were shaped and embossed with polished brass, and steel — their design expressing an artistic sensitivity that Devon would never have suspected from Keryn's father. Whatever his disdain, she couldn't deny that Smith knew his business when it came to the work he did for the pack.

Fire, iron, and centuries of skill had gone into crafting each item. This time, she wasn't surprised to note that the weapons were all inscribed with the markings she had learned were a crucial part of the Smith's craft. After a circular tour of the room, she finished back at the large alcove that stood separate from the others. In front of her, the impressive display she could only assume was Rowland's was the grandest of them all. Its detail and embellishments rivaled that of the remarkable sets she'd already observed.

After her eyes had soaked in their fill of the armor, she moved to the center of the room. Along the ground was a carving of a sword set into the center of the floor surrounded by two golden circles inscribed with markings she couldn't understand.

"It's beautiful, simply beautiful." Devon's voice was hushed with admiration. They looked more like art pieces than something you would actually use. Though after her training with Connor today she knew they would surpass any requirements in battle.

As she spoke, the far door swung wide, and Smith himself ducked through, carrying another wooden frame bearing a new suit of armor. Its polished sheen was nearly blinding in the light of the burning forge. Each piece of the suit was adorned in style similar to Rowland's, bearing as much detail, although far more delicately wrought.

He set it down in front of Rowland's display before looking the visitors over with a frown. "It is not ready." His brow furrowed. "Come back later when the Druid and I have had a chance to enchant it."

Connor stepped forward. "I already told them, besides she can try mine for the moment, and let me remind you what Rowland had to say about treating people with respect."

"You come into my den and speak of respect, pup," Smith growled. "Three hundred years is a mayfly's lifespan compared to how many years I've been around." He pointed at Devon while keeping his eyes on Connor's face. "I will speak to her and anyone else as I please, just as I've spoken my mind to every Alpha before. If she's to be the next Alpha she'd better get used to it, the Gods know she'll have more than my coarse speech to contend with in the coming months."

Connor responded with a scowl of disapproval. "Save your hot air for the forge." He said, turning to a set of armor just right of the wall from Rowland's. After freeing the gauntlet from its chains, he brought it over to Devon with a challenging glance in Smith's direction, instructing her to put it on.

"She's too young for it to work," Smith grumbled as he went about the room. "She's going to need a lot more training than one afternoon tinkering swords with the likes of you boy."

"What won't work?" Devon asked, looking down at the gauntlet in curiosity.

"Disregard him," Connor said. "He may be ancient, but he hasn't seen everything. Just concentrate on what I tell you. Trust me. I have a feeling about this after our _tinkering_ session." He helped secure the leather straps, covering her arm from elbow to wrist.

"Now, close your eyes," he said. "Just let your mind flow and describe what comes to you. It's not the greatest space to go back to, I know, but I need you to remember the night you were attacked. Not so much the attack itself, but the moments leading up to when you saw the moon."

She recalled the disastrous results of a similar experiment with Jesse. Though she was anxious to avoid any equally embarrassing incidents, especially in front of Smith, Devon couldn't help but think of the exhilaration she'd felt leaping across the river as though she could fly. She had been shot today, sliced at with swords, and had fallen far down into the earth without a scratch. If she could survive those things, she could handle the smug observations of a crotchety old man. As he had said, there would be plenty worse for her to face.

She closed her eyes, thinking back. "Okay, the moon I can do this," she said. "I didn't see it until after I was attacked by Rowland, just after I fell onto the patio floor trying to escape. There was an eclipse that night. My dad and I had plans to see it, but getting to Derrick's was more important. I remember thinking I was going to die there heaped on that floor. When I looked up at the sky, it felt like time had slowed to almost a stop, like the clouds were moving in slow motion."

She felt a strange tremor, thinking again of the dreamlike paralysis that had gripped her that night.

"What did it _physically_ feel like, though?" Connor asked.

"Everything was burning. The wind was so intense I should have been freezing, but all I could feel was extreme heat running through my body."

"Good," he said. "I want you to remember that heat when you see the moon."

Confused, Devon realized that though she hadn't remembered until now, she _had_ seen the moon above while huddled, wracked with pain in the shadows of the balcony. Now, returning to that moment, it seemed as though the moon was all she'd seen, filling the opening of the sky like a blood red coin.

"I can see it," she said, her voice full of amazement. "The eclipse is covering it, but the heat. All I can _feel_ is the heat."

Connor held onto her hand. "Focus that heat you're feeling," he directed, "funnel it down into your hand."

"Fools," Smith clicked his tongue with irritation as she concentrated on the sensation of the heat that once again coursed through her body while Keryn gasped.

Opening her eyes, she saw what she had been terrified to witness during her struggle with Rowland. Connor let go as curved claws began to break through her fingertips. The skin around them split and peeled away, falling to the ground -exposing the dark wet fur underneath.

Smith barged past his wide-eyed daughter, pushing Connor out of the way in his haste to have a closer look. "How! This shouldn't be possible!" he shouted, angry in his confusion, as though someone nearby must answer for it. "It takes weeks of mental training to be able to do this kind of thing — for Rowland it took months!"

As he shouted, Devon fumbled at the leather straps of the gauntlet with her still human hand. "Get it off! Get it off!" Undoing the last strap, she pulled it away from her arm, sending it crashing against the floor. As soon as she was free, the claws detached themselves, dropping away, the fur and torn skin began to fizzle and dissolved away with them. In less than a minute, fresh new fingers were revealed, glistening with blood.

All she wanted to do was flee from the room as she massaged the new skin with her other hand, trying to remove the leftover residue. Devon had thought she was ready, prepared for anything, but she couldn't accept this. It was too intimate and too foreign.

Intending only to move past him, she pushed Connor in her panic, sending him sliding across the floor. Smith and Keryn watched in shock as he crashed into the far wall, causing a shiver of clattering motion through the hanging weapons.

Caught in a wave of regret and self-doubt, Devon wished she could reverse the last ten minutes, or better still, the last ten days. She stepped away from the others, holding out her bloody hands in a plea for calm.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she said in a rush. "This happened when I fought Rowland at Derrick's. I don't understand..."

"Leave us!" Smith boomed, surprising them all.

Connor pulled himself up. "Now, wait a minute. I don't think that's a good idea."

"I said, leave us, boy! And take my daughter upstairs. It seems the girl and I have some things to discuss."

Seeing his unwillingness to do as Smith told him, Devon nodded at Connor. "It's okay," she said, wiping the blood on the side of her leg. "Besides, it's not like he can physically hurt me."

"It's not the physical that worries me," he answered.

Taking an also reluctant Keryn by the arm, he glanced back with a look of deep concern as he guided her back towards the council room.

Even at five-eleven, Devon seemed like a dwarf in the room next to Smith. If anyone in the family could overpower her, it probably would be him, although she had a feeling this wasn't going to be a training session.

Both of his arms were now crossed over the front of his loose tunic, he squinted, looking her up and down. "You say this happened before?" he asked.

"Yesterday. With Rowland when he confronted me at Derrick's place. When he exposed his claws, there was something in his scent that made me realize he was the one who killed Derrick and Jackson. I was so furious that I grabbed him, and I don't really remember how it happened, my arms just started to change by themselves."

He listened with a look of contempt. "It seems Rowland has left out a few details," he said. "Though I can imagine why. If this were addressed yesterday, our council meeting would have gone very differently."

Smith circled her with a look of evaluation. "You are definitely the smallest Alpha I've ever seen," he said.

"I didn't stay behind to be insulted." Devon stood her ground, staring at the giant.

"If you let me finish, I was going to say that I am impressed with the level of control you have. Every Alpha I have ever trained was never able to stop the change without mental and physical training, and certainly, none of them have been able to change at will so early on."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment, but I'll take it," she replied. Devon was beginning to suspect there were many hidden depths to this man — the products of his labor gathered around them could prompt no other conclusion.

"Pick a weapon," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"The pointy objects this room is filled with? Pick one."

Intrigued, she did as he said, stepping over to peruse the selection as she had earlier with Connor. As her hand drifted over the wall, she glanced in Smith's direction, hoping to receive some hint towards which of the weapons to choose.

After receiving nothing she passed over the swords, frustrated with the day's previous results. On either side of Rowland's display were two weapons Devon had never seen before. Each one was long and almost tear-shaped, except the ends curved out instead of forming a point. The bottom had an open slot with several small circles similar to the inside of a pair of brass knuckles.

"What does this lettering mean?" she asked, running her fingers over the symbols. "I've seen the enchantments everywhere. Keryn explained a bit about what it's for, but what does it say, exactly?"

"It's an old Celtic script, and I guess some things don't come as easy as others," he said.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry; time will answer that question. As for the symbols, they are a language that we used centuries ago. You'd best ask the Druid if you want a teacher, he will help you understand our old ways."

"Fine." She lifted one of the strange weapons down from the wall, sliding her fingers into the slot as she cradled her thumb against the outer edge. Strangely, it felt entirely natural in her hands. With a firm grasp, she pulled her hand into a fist, causing the weapon to split down the middle, springing open into a fan of four, claw-like blades.

"The fist of Calanedh, interesting choice," he said behind her. Those are Rowland's favorite, as well."

"Calanedh?" she asked.

"It means carnage," he said with a watchful glance.

Grabbing its mate with her free hand, she repeated the same motion to open the blades. At the same moment, her inner vision jumped from the claws of a wolf, armed in shining gauntlets, then back to her human hands. This time the images were not as shocking to her system, compared to the first few times she experienced them. Still, this was something that needed to be addressed with Rowland, since neither Jesse nor Keryn would tell her what they meant. A slight release of her fists caused the weapons to fold closed as she dropped her arms to her sides.

"So, why don't you trust me?" she asked. "I've been trying to figure it out. It can't be just because I'm a woman?"

"Would there need to be any other reason?" He answered.

His response genuinely surprised her — she had been expecting more elaborate reasoning, at least on the surface. "May I remind you that your daughter is a woman? You might have been a werewolf for centuries, but doesn't give you a right to be a sexist asshole about this."

"My daughter is not an Alpha and not in the position of extraordinary power that you have landed yourself in.

"You will have to give me more to work with because I didn't choose any of this!"

"When you learn more, you will find out that during our history, there was a woman," he said. " _One_ woman who nearly destroyed everything for us. Our leader, our history, our culture." His voice slowly raised as he continued. "Everything we had fought for in our existence. You think your life has been hard; Roman invasions nearly erased our way of life through rape, slaughter and, FIRE! I was there when the Gods gave us these gifts! And for two thousand years, I have protected this family after seeing the devastation brought on by just _one_ woman's scorn!"

He turned, fists fully clenched heading back towards his den.

"But what did she do to _you_?" Devon called after him. "You may be as old as you say, but I wasn't born yesterday, either. You can't convince me that this isn't more personal for you somehow."

He stopped his hand just above the door handle unwilling to turn towards her. "She destroyed the woman I loved," he said. "And in turn created the abominations by whom your fate will now be determined. We were given rules to follow by the Gods and created rules of our own to maintain this halfway peace. If we do not abide by them, then only death can, and will, follow. You girl have caused Rowland to break these rules, and now we can only wait to see what damage you will bring." He left Devon standing there enraged from his words, slamming the door closed behind him.

Alone, she stood against the glow of the forge with no more to say. The only sounds left were the Blades Calanedh expanding from her clenched fists and the crackling of burning embers.

Chapter Twelve

FAMILY FEUD

Outside the opening to the council room door, Jesse waited patiently for his moment to enter. Devon remained unaware of his looming presence, too engrossed in her ballet of destruction, dodging to avoid the blade of Connor's sword. Both of her Calanedh expanded out, gracefully cutting through the air faster than the eye could follow. Every swing, impacting the different areas across her opponent's body. Jesse watched on as she jumped effortlessly into a backflip, locking her blades into the grooves of the bronze floor. Her move allowed her to roll back, pulling her body into a low crouch just as Connor's sword swiped across the now empty space. Before he could reset his defensive stance, pieces of his remaining tracksuit fell to the ground, cut free by the sharp edges.

As she rose, Devon retracted the blades, hooking them onto the slots of her belt. "I really think this look suits you better," she said, placing a hand against Connor's exposed chest.

"You are not taking this seriously," he cautioned her, though he was grinning.

Finally, having gained their attention, Jesse knocked. "May I enter?" he asked, "or are you two just going to bone right here on the floor?"

As she pulled her hand away, Connor gave him a frigid look. Being caught, Devon couldn't help but blush and smile at Jesse's presence- though it had been just over a week since she talked to him, the time since that first night had seemed closer to a month.

"Well, I'm impressed," Connor said, "only a week, that's almost a record for you, Jesse."

"Yes, well, some of us have lives that don't revolve around Rowland's asshole," he returned, making kissing noises at the air.

"I'm going to get changed," Connor announced irritably.

Devon attempted to call him back as he walked away. Without so much as a head turn, he strutted forward unwilling to register a response to her appeals — the whole time, unaware that she had also cut open the back of his boxer shorts. Laughing into her sleeve, she watched him go; Jesse loudly snorted as he looked back to see Connor passing through the doors.

Still snickering, he crossed the threshold, taking in Devon's sweaty and disheveled state. "I'd hug you but, well... gross. You should do me a favor and go shower off and get changed."

"And you shouldn't be so hard on him," she said, ignoring his request. She owed Connor enough to stand up for him at least. "He's been really helpful, more than Rowland has been."

"Ugh, Wendy will get over it, he always does," he groaned.

"Wendy?"

"Yeah, Wendy whiner," Jesse laughed at his response.

"That is the worst nickname."

"You have spent a whole week with him now. You can't say it's not slightly fitting to his demeanor. I'm right, right?"

"I'm not commenting," she tried to resist smiling.

"Come on. I'm taking you for lunch in Victoria. Besides, you deserve a break."

"I should probably clear all of this with Rowland, but I'm down." She did her best to seem casual, but a break from the house was all yearned for. Although it had been only a week, she found herself longing for the mix of Victoria's downtown grime and sweet ocean air.

"Oh kitten, you're forgetting you're an Alpha now, try making your own rules. Besides, from what I've just seen, you're further ahead than anyone would've expected."

"Well, Connor is a great teacher," she admitted, "Hell, did you see me? I did a backflip. It's all starting to feel so natural."

Laughing, Jesse brought his hand to his mouth. "Oh wow... you are so human. Hello, DNA memory? Hasn't Rowland taught you anything by now?"

She frowned, reminded of her latest frustration. "Maybe if _you_ see him you can ask him. Honestly, it feels like he's been avoiding me."

"Well, then I came back just in time," he said. "Okay, that's only partly true. I'd love to say my return is random, but after talking to Rowland. It seemed that my presence was desperately needed. So, call this afternoon a field trip to further werewolf 101. Now, seriously go and get cleaned up you are grossing me out." He ushered her by snapping his fingers twice, "and don't skimp on the werewolf speed. I'll be in my car waiting out front."

As she opened the door to his black Volkswagen Jetta, Devon realized she had been anticipating something flashier from Jesse. It made an interesting contrast to her experience with Keryn's choice of vehicle.

"This always gets Connor riled up." Jesse smiled as he revved his engine loudly before placing the car into gear. Out from the backend, his tires sprayed gravel while the car flew down along the main driveway. With a twist of his wrist, up went the volume blasting out loud punk rock as he gunned the engine through the trees heading for Victoria.

"So, where are we going for lunch?" she asked, strapping herself in.

"The Cherry Bomb Cafe, you know the one? It's right beside the toy store Jenn dropped you off at."

"I've been past it but never in it. Actually, I'm kind of surprised I haven't checked out the cafe, I walked past it every day on my way to work."

"Well, if you liked the toy store, you're going to relish in the cafe."

"I'm sure I will, but for now, I want to know what the hell is DNA memory?"

"Patience is not your forte. Fine, if we must. Do you remember the first night we met when I ran you through that visualization?"

"Not something I could easily forget."

"Perfect, remember how you saw through Rowland's eyes? When you did that, you were accessing one of his memories. When Rowland exits this existence in a few months, you become a full Alpha."

"What's that even mean?" She said, slightly agitated.

"What I mean is that night you'll gain all of those memories, not just his, but every Alpha's since we've existed. You're getting a colossal upload of the prime Alpha database to access whenever you want."

By Jesse's description, she was given a mental image of Neo from the Matrix, suddenly becoming a kung fu master. In all seriousness, the idea of gaining the consciousness and secrets belonging to countless other people made her feel sick. Especially remembering they were all men from different misogynistic periods in time. How could one consume that much knowledge and not alter their individuality?

"Rowland did mention that his death was coming..."

"It's for the best. You wouldn't know much about it yet, but laws were agreed upon a long time ago that when a new Alpha is created, the other must die. It's the only way the memories can be transferred, and to be fair, it limits any festering rivalries." He shrugged. "Anyway, I told you I'm not big on all this family talk."

"Well too bad, as of this moment you are my official werewolf guru. That's an Alpha's order," Devon grinned over at him.

"Seriously? Ugh, you suck. You know, that right? Fine, for now, enjoy the scenery until lunch, and then I'll gift you with more of my fucking enlightenment."

The car itself may not have seemed typical of him, but all other aspects of his driving were precisely as she had imagined.

On the outskirts of Sooke, Devon's enhanced vision absorbed all the details of the landscape passing by as they sped down the winding roads. Suddenly, her visual serenity was replaced by the flashing lights of a police cruiser approaching quickly behind them.

"Oh shit," she said, an instinctual reaction as Jesse pulled to the side of the road. Common ground with the law was never one of her life's achievements. Since childhood, her association with the police had always been a difficult one.

"Relax," Jesse said, with no sign of relinquishing his good humor. "It's just a cop. Calm down and watch — your next lesson comes early, my disciple."

Devon watched Jesse's reflection through the car's side mirror. Various scenarios raced through her mind, each one worsening her already building anxiety.

As the policeman approached the side of the car, Jesse rolled down his window in time to greet him with a friendly smile. "Hello there, officer," he said. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Son, are you aware that you were going forty over the speed limit?"

Jesse lazily propped his chin on his fist, admiring the policeman's stance. "Was I?" He replied in a smooth tone. "I truly apologize; I didn't realize I was going that fast. What I _do_ know," he said, "is that uniform compliments your body amazingly well."

In spite of the scowl he'd worn as he approached, to Devon's astonishment, the officer began to blush in a manner comparable to a teenager getting ready to achieve first base.

"Uh, well... thank you," he said with wonderment. "I don't think anyone's ever said that before."

"I find that hard to believe," Jesse replied as he leaned closer.

Seemingly unaware of himself, the officer hunched farther down, helping to shorten the gap between them.

Jesse hushed, "I'm especially glad to have such fine, strong men as yourself protecting our towns. If I may be so bold, I'm going to remember you in my thoughts tonight, Mr. Policeman."

By now the officer appeared nearly dazed, staring into Jesse's eyes with hypnotic focus. Devon wasn't sure just how far this would go until Jesse leaned back into his seat, finally breaking their eye contact. The officer's smile grew as he rose, tipping his hat to the both of them before tossing his pen over his shoulder into the dirt.

"You two have a great day," he shouted, returning to his cruiser with a newly confident strut.

As soon as the moment had passed, Jesse raced away at the same speed he had been driving in the first place, laughing hysterically as he rolled up the window. "Oh, I'd love to tear into that sometime if you know what I mean?" he laughed.

"Wha..what the hell was that?" Devon asked, stunned.

"Pretty sweet, don't you think? We affect people around us with our pheromones," he said, "as well as our emotions. These bracelets amplify everything into something equivalent to hypnosis, but with energy. I'm sure by now you can sense what's going on with other members of the pack?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's like an extension of that. It's helpful if we're out in hunting parties — if you end up in a densely populated area, you could use anger and fear. This will make humans turn away from wherever we are and leave. _And_ ," he added, "It's really convenient in situations like this one when you need to get yourself out of a speeding ticket."

"Connor mentioned something about it, but not to this extent. That's basically mind-control."

"Kind of. I wouldn't go shaving your head or donning yellow spandex professor. Please keep this between us. We're not supposed to take advantage of anyone with it, but it's amazing what people will do when you're around them. By extending our emotions towards people, it increases our likability and makes humans trust us more. It's helped us to hide within society for hundreds of years. It's certainly made my job a lot easier."

"Speaking of jobs," she said, "what's your story? How did you come into this family? Fair is fair. I barely know anything about you."

For the last week, she had dealt with Rowland's avoidance, Connor playing good soldier, and Keryn being sworn by Rowland not to disclose specific things. Devon was sure Jesse would remain unwilling to reveal anything about himself. Still, she was curious enough to ask.

"Yeah, I guess you're ready for my story," he said, to her surprise. "Back when I was a young lad of twenty-four, I joined the family. It was nineteen seventy-eight, and I guess you could say I worked for more of an unsavory element. Mostly Vancouver's and Seattle's underground crime families. People came to me when they needed to acquire new identities — for the right price, of course. The Island wasn't on my radar until Orin referred me. At the time, I was more afraid of Orin and his connections with the people I worked for. Rowland, I'd never heard of him. Besides, why would I be scared? When people need new identities, I instantly had leverage over them. I just wanted to know what their deal was. I mean, seriously five new identities, one house? They weren't illegal refugees or anything like that, which raised my curiosity even more."

"Wait, why did they need identities?" she asked, already feeling lost.

"We all do. Every fifteen to twenty years, we reach an age where the defense of Plastic Surgery isn't going to cut it," he laughed. What's even more complicated is our children. When they grow up, they become our siblings on paper. It's the only way to explain how we appear to be the same age."

"You mean I'm going to have to change everything every twenty years?"

"Well, duh. Don't you think people will notice you aren't aging? Even if you moved to a new city, your information has to go somewhere. Thankfully it's not my responsibility to deal with that side of things. What a colossal pain in the ass it would be, filing taxes for that many people. I guess it's better to be safe than sorry, in case anyone does start digging. If it weren't for house rules, I wouldn't bother. Have you looked around these days, who really pays attention in this tunnel vision society? It seems overkill with the bracelets shielding us and the fact that we don't ever end up in hospitals. But whatever," he waved the momentary distraction away. "Back to the interesting part, which is me. Where was I"?

"You were curious." Devon reminded him.

"Right, I wanted to do some recognizance on my new clients, so I came to the island about a month later hoping to scope them out. I wanted to know just who I'd procured all these new lives for. You know? I even went so far as to follow Rowland back to the house. While I was there, I saw Jenn's husband, John, show up in his uniform, followed by the rest of the family. Now, I'm good, but there's no way a fake identity could pull a job on the police force that quick. Nothing added up in my books. At least, not until Rowland confronted me in the woods later that night. For being spied on, he was super calm and then offered me a tour of the house. I was packing a gun at that point, so I wasn't too worried. Once inside, Rowland not only told me he knew who I was but that I could be an asset to the _family_."

"At first, just as I'm sure you did, I thought they were some kind of weirdo cult. That was until I entered the council room and heard nothing but panting and growling echoing around me. My human eyes struggled at the sight of giant wolves racing in and out of the tunnels. I don't have to tell you these weren't normal wolves."

She nodded, eager for the story's conclusion.

"I remember that I wasn't scared. Captivated is the best way I can describe it. I leaned into the grate, looking down at one of the wolves who had stopped to look back at me. It had crouched down to sit with its yellow eyes gazing up through the grate, tilting its head back and forth, just as curious about me as I was it. This will sound stupid, but I swear it smiled at me right before it jumped up and smashed against the underside of the metal floor. The shock knocked me back flat on my ass! My mind was reeling; I was always looking for something more from life, some sort of flip side reality. When Rowland offered me his hand, all I could say was, 'Count me in!' If it were up to me, I would have had Rowland turn me on the spot. Thankfully he made me wait, or I would have had lost something significant to my old life."

Listening intently, Devon thought how different it would have been to join the family under the same sort of circumstances. It was at that moment she realized the story wasn't continuing.

"What was it?" she prompted.

True to form, he shook his head, grinning. "Don't worry... I'll show you later."

Once they reached the cafe, Devon mentally flogged herself for never setting foot inside such a magical space. High overhead, the ceilings were tiled in elegant brass panels boasting several wrought-iron chandeliers, and below her the floors were a beautifully stained dark oak. In keeping with the toy store theme, glass cases were set throughout the cafe, filled with twelve-inch action figures, sculptures, and vintage toys. In several corner areas, more significant display cases held life-size movie statues. This was indeed a collector's paradise. Some of the cafe patrons chatted away amongst the cozy tables, others buried in the solitude of a good book, and a select few sketched the treasures posed within the glass cases.

"I can't believe I never came in here until now," she said. "I tried to get Derrick in here a few times, but for some reason he never would. He said it was hippie gluten-free food that I wouldn't like. It's too bad. He would have lost his mind in here."

"It's a pretty rad place," Jesse agreed. "For me, it's about seeing the memorabilia that I grew up with."

As they approached the counter, a tall woman rocking a crazy up-do, sporting a floral tattoo along the side of her head rushed around and began tightly embracing Jesse in a warm hug.

"Uh, Jane," he whispered after a moment. "You're choking me."

She let go after one more squeeze, looking him over with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. It was it in the papers," she said. "It's all too close to home for this woman. God, his poor girlfriend, too. How are you holding up?" Making her way back around the counter.

"Everyone's pretty broken up about it," he answered, with a quick glance at Devon.

How strange Devon felt, to hear someone speaking as though she were dead while standing right before them. She was beginning to understand what the family had meant when they warned her of how bizarre interacting with humans could be. It gave her a feeling of separation; this innocent confrontation showed her just with how out of sync she was with the rest of the city. If it felt like this already, how did someone like Rowland or Smith handle it?

Jane tactfully changed the topic, focusing her attention on Devon. "Enough of the doom and gloom. Who's your new friend?" she asked, reaching her hand across the counter. "I'm Jane."

"I'm... Katherine," Devon said, doing a better job choosing an alias than her stumble on Jenn's farm. Before she could pull her hand away, Jane leaned over the counter, drawing her in for a hug. Happily, she went with it, shyly smiling as she was released.

Jane shrugged, laughing. "I'm a hugger," she explained. "I don't think I've seen you in here before?"

"It's my first time." she shrugged an apology.

Jane didn't seem to mind. "Well, any friend of Jesse's eats for free in here. I wouldn't have this place if it weren't for him."

"I told you, you are going to go broke if you keep that up, Jane."

"Hey, none of the poverty thinking here, the universe provides," Jane replied as she twirled past one of her baristas.

Devon reminded herself that she knew very little about Jesse and that nothing should come as a surprise. Still, she couldn't help but be taken back by the woman's appreciative statement. _If it weren't for him, she wouldn't have this place?_ She wondered how many people owed something to him, and what would he get in return for helping this woman. Somehow, he didn't quite strike her as the selflessly benevolent type.

"Well," Jane said, her head tilted. "You look like a coffee girl, for sure. Double Americano, I'm guessing?"

"Wow, yeah. You're good."

"You guys go grab a seat, and I'll get one of the girls to bring it out. I already know what Jesse wants," she said winking.

They seated themselves by one of the large front windows facing Johnston Street. The day was overcast, the sky a joyless pale grey over the cobbled street. From where they sat, Devon could see her old apartment. _I wonder if it's empty by now. There could even be someone new already living in it?_ Thankfully her slew of anxious thoughts were interrupted.

"Sorry about that," Jesse said with an exaggerated grimace. "As you can tell Derrick and I used to have coffee here all the time. It's better to pull these emotional Band-Aids off sooner rather than later."

"Well, now I don't feel bad that we never came in here." There was still an emotional bite with being reminded of Derrick's secret life without her.

It didn't take long for a barista to appear, gently setting down two giant coffee mugs on the table in front of them. Jesse reached for his, blowing the steam away before resuming their conversation. "So, has anyone told you anything about the other family?" he asked, watching her face closely.

"Nothing, really. Let's see... I know I'm being trained in order to be presented to Orin in three months, he will then decide pretty much whether I live or die, and that Smith despises them with a passion. More than he hates me, which is a plus, I think. Actually, it seems everyone in the family has a pretty strong distaste for them. Except you. You told me to judge for myself after I meet them."

Jesse leaned back. "I'm surprised they're keeping you in the dark this much, what with the important role the other family will play in how things end up. It's not the family's approval you are looking for; its Orin's and most importantly Siobhan's."

"Well, if it's so important then start talking," she urged Jesse. Devon could sense a slight shift in his energy, from playful banter to a more serious tone. She attributed it to the same distaste everyone else seemed to have when speaking of the other family but felt Jesse might be the one person willing to give her answers. So far, he was the only one who didn't seem to despise them, just hesitant to talk about them.

"Technically Rowland is the one who should be telling you," he said. "I mean, with life and death on the line, you really should know more than you do. I guess he's waiting for the right time?"

She rolled her eyes. "He treats me like I'm some fragile child. Personally, I think three months is dumb. I mean, I understand that I need time to train, but why can't I go over and talk to them myself, get to know them?"

He was already nodding. "Exactly. So, why don't you?"

"Rowland would never agree to let me go. Hell, I don't even have a passport. Besides, I have my bracelet; even if I did try going over to Seattle, they'd know where I was. Add to all of this that I wouldn't even know how to find this other family once I got over there." Devon reached for her Americano, sipping gently. "Ok, this place has good coffee."

Jesse took a drink from his mug, keeping his eyes on hers. "Remember what I said about making your own rules? What if you could?" he asked, a thin smile creeping onto his face.

"Are we speaking hypothetically?" She locked her eyes on his. She could sense his internal calculations as he decided whether or not to tell her more.

"What I'm saying is, what if someone could arrange to get you over there without getting caught?"

Now her interest was baited. "I'm assuming this someone would be you?" She eyed him with mock suspicion. "I'm listening."

"Can I trust you to be your own person and make up your own mind?"

She laughed. "I know we only met a few weeks ago, but do you seriously think I'm that much of a pushover? Out with-it Jesse. We agreed on the drive in that you would give me answers today. So, what is it, oh werewolf guru? What aren't you telling me?"

"Oh, I can get you over there," he whispered. "Especially if it was commanded of me by my new Alpha. But, you need to swear that this stays between us. I go over there all the time without Rowland or the Druid knowing."

"Well, if you go over there, then what are they like?"

"Misunderstood, really." He shrugged. "They're pretty different than us, but different doesn't mean bad."

"Different how?"

"The way they were created was different from how we were. The Gods made us, that is, they gave us our abilities. The other family was created through magic. They came along after we did, and I guess you could say they were always looked down on as a lesser subspecies. Orin runs a nightclub and invests in real estate. He's embraced the modern world, and is determined to ensure his pack can enjoy all of the luxuries the modern world has to offer, where Rowland is steeped in tradition and history."

"Wait, back it up. So, you're seriously telling me you can get me over there, and I won't get caught? You're sure about this?"

"I've been doing it for years." He smiled smugly. "And I know Orin and Siobhan are dying to meet you. If you're just as impatient, why shouldn't I help my new Alpha create a new relationship with the other family?"

"Okay, I'm in. What do I need to do?"

"Whoa, slow down there, Tex," he said. "First, you need to _actually_ command me to take you over in secret."

"Done, I command you to take me to Seattle to secretly meet Orin." Devon quickly acknowledged his request.

"Perfect, second you have to call home and tell them you're going to stay with me for the weekend. Say that you need a weekend off away from the house to clear your head. I'm sure Connor will convince Rowland to let you do it."

"And why would Connor do that?" she asked.

"Oh, Connor," he said, mimicking a high falsetto. "I think you look better without any clothes on..."

Crossing her arms defensively, she blushed. "You suck." She stood up from the table with her hand held out. "Fine, give me your phone."

After a few minutes of pacing up and down outside the coffee shop, she made the call. It was hardly shocking when Rowland chose to manage the conversation through Connor instead of talking to Devon directly. Jesse had been right, Connor agreed that after her stellar progress in weapons training that she'd earned some time off even if it was with Jesse.

Throughout her conversation, she had faked a disappointed look that continued with her back to the table. All the while, channeling her energy towards a sad thought as she returned Jesse's phone.

"Seriously?" he asked, astonished and disappointed.

She couldn't fool him for long — she was too excited to contain her energy. "No, he said yes," she beamed.

"Sweet!" He returned the smile, pointing across at her. "Hey, you are a quick learner. That was good work with your energy there. You might survive Seattle after all. Okay, first things first. Let's go around and get you something nice to wear."

"Can't we go back to the house? I bought a few new things last week that could work."

"Hell no. I've got cash, don't worry about it. Also, I've got the hotel in Seattle covered. I was going over there anyway."

A pixie-like girl with a lip ring came around from the coffee bar, setting down two huge salads.

Jesse nodded, mouthing, "Thanks," with a smile before resuming their conversation. "Besides," he said, "we don't want to go around the house. You will probably get all guilty feeling around Keryn and risk giving away something to Rowland. The last thing we need is him changing his mind. So, finish your Americano and eat up. We've got shopping to do."

It was the second time this week Devon had been treated to a shopping trip on someone else's coin, only this time the price tag proved far more extravagant. Keryn was frugal suggesting more practical items, whereas Jesse insisted on visiting several remote boutiques to find something more unique, and exceedingly expensive.

He had explained to her the importance of impressing Orin, and that the Seattle Alpha paid attention to detail. Devon was unaccustomed to spending a lot of money on herself. Having Rowland pay for essential items and Keryn's hidden extras was one thing — he had made her into a werewolf, the least he could do was replace her wardrobe. Having Jesse pay for unnecessary luxuries out of his own pocket was a different matter. She vowed to herself that she would pay him back when she was able.

"Were you robbed?" she remarked, setting her bags down on the floor for lack of a better place. It was more art studio than an apartment, L-shaped with high vaulted ceilings, and polished hardwood floors. The only furniture was a large modern oak framed bed positioned directly in the middle of the main room. While a small modern kitchenette displayed against a far wall appeared barely used.

"What? I like the whole open living concept," he replied. "Make yourself at home. I just need to make a quick text." Jesse disappeared out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him for privacy.

It felt almost as though she was standing in the pages of a high-end furniture catalog, or an interior design magazine. In what she assumed was meant to be the bedroom area, she found a wall containing a framed space indented a few inches that spanned roughly six feet across. The alcove bore a series of black frames which she stopped to study.

Each one held fragments of something best described as a thin parchment. All of them were carefully inked with elegantly shaded designs in a traditional Japanese style. There were dragons, koi fish, sakura blossoms, and curling ocean waves so detailed that their delicate crests reached out with tendrils of foam. Together, the separate pictures comprised a larger whole, laid out like puzzle pieces. Something eventually clicked as her mind realized just what she was looking at. Devon felt pulled between a place of shock and admiration.

"That was my one request when I was changed," Jesse said, appearing beside her with a nod towards the wall. She had been so focused on what she was looking at that she hasn't heard him come back inside.

"Is that skin?" she asked.

"Yup. My skin, to be specific. My biggest struggle with becoming what we are was losing my tattoos. I wanted to preserve them, and Rowland let me."

"I can see why. Your tattoos were beautiful," she said. "I had so many planned out that I wanted." She could sense tension in him, even though they were speaking casually of his beloved tattoos. "Was everything okay with your phone call?"

"Just a few last-minute arrangements. Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Here," Jesse handed her a strange brass handle with a long key-like end. With his other hand, he slid up a small frame mid-wall, exposing a tiny keyhole. "Hold this up, and I'll get the other one."

Devon braced the frame as she watched Jesse wander over, repeating the same step.

"Go ahead. We don't have to be in sync or anything."

The end of the key slid easily into place, and with a quick turn of her wrist, Devon heard it click followed by another.

"I'm trusting you with something I've never shown the family."

She nodded at him.

"Okay, now slowly pull the wall backwards on three."

After the count, the frame and inner wall began to move towards them before Jesse pushed it off to the right. The outer shell was perfect camouflage, roughly two feet deep and silently glided thanks to several hidden casters along the bottom. Several wooden floating shelves filled the interior, showcasing a fascinating collection of obscure statues and objects — none of which Devon had ever witnessed before. A few elegant pieces were polished to a high shine while others appeared frail as though a single breath might cause them to disintegrate.

"What is all this?" she asked, holding out a tentative hand, wanting to touch but not without first understanding what the items were.

"It's a collection of peculiar things I've acquired through trade over the years," he said. "Mostly objects that people claimed were magical or haunted somehow." Jesse had made his way to the bed before patting the mattress next to himself. "Grab those silver bracelets on the top shelf. They look like the ones we're wearing only silver instead of gold."

She lifted the bracelets and joined him, reclining along the opposite side of the bed.

" _These_ are our ticket out of town," he said, taking the bracelets from her hands. "I got these off an old man gambling in Chinatown one night. He said they came into his possession just after his father died, that they'd been passed down for generations in his family."

She arched her brow. "That's more than a little weird. These look just like Smith's crafting," she said.

"I know, right?" He shook his head. "I felt bad taking them off the poor guy, but it was too much of a coincidence for me not to. I have no idea how in the hell he came to have them and to be honest; I don't really care. These babies are worth their weight in gold."

He held one up, pointing his finger along its edge. "Look," he said, "it's backwards, the symbols are the reverse of the ones we wear."

Upon closer inspection, it was true. By now, Devon had nearly memorized the glyphs on her bracelet, studying it in her desire to know more about the magic and how it worked.

"Yeah, you're right," she said.

"So, I thought about it," he went on, excited now. "And I figured, if the symbols were reversed, then, maybe its purpose could be. Here, check it out. Sit up," Jesse took the bracelet as he lifted her arm, hovering it over the one on her left wrist. "Hold still," he told her. "This won't hurt."

As he held the silver above the gold, they seemed attracted, pulling together as though magnetized. When the opposing sides clicked together, he let go of the silver bracelet, allowing it to hover exactly where he had released it. He leaned forward, bringing his mouth as close to the metal rings as he could without touching while whispering the word, "Danu."

The two bracelets began merging, silver streamed down as gold climbed up, like vines growing and twining together with rapid speed. Within seconds, the bracelets had traded places.

He drew the gold bracelet away from the silver one now wrapped around Devon's wrist. "Pretty amazing, right?" He said, twirling it around his finger as he smiled proudly.

"How did you do that?" she asked, her voice hushed with awe.

"I'll tell you on the flight," he said, staring down at his watch. "We have something more challenging to worry about."

"What would that be?"

"Making you presentable," he laughed.

The Druid's fingers snaked through his beard, stroking the braided hair as he sat staring at the map laid out before him. A handful of twigs and bones lay scattered across its leather surface, the predictability of their placement a thorn in his side. His curiously strewed thoughts caused a new presence in the room to go unnoticed.

Rowland stood resting against the wall like a statue. "What troubles you?" he asked, reading signs of his disjointed thoughts in the lines of the old man's face.

The Druid shook his head slowly. "Something familiar, something old, but very familiar. All is as it should be, and yet..."

"Should I keep an eye on them?" Rowland asked, already lifting away from the wall, eyeing the exit.

"No," the Druid said. "Trust must be given. The girl must find her direction and her own path. You shield her too much, Rowland. Your guilt weighs heavy on your soul."

Rowland was emotionally unabashed as he spoke. "Second to Connor, Derrick was the closest person to a son I've had in three centuries."

The Druid looked up from his divination for the first time, listening intently.

"I can't stand to look at her face; her presence is a constant reminder of the mistake...my mistake. The one that cost his life and put our family in jeopardy," Rowland continued. "I should have had him quit with her months ago. In three hundred years, this is my second regret as an Alpha."

"We must trust in the Gods," the Druid pronounced. "We must trust that this tragedy was meant to happen. Only through true suffering can one reach the heights of their potential."

Rowland nodded as he joined the Druid in staring pensively at the pieces strewn across the leather sheet while ruminating on thoughts of suffering.

As she walked onto the airport runway, Devon felt an onset of unease. She was caught in the conflict, wavering between her choice to disobey Rowland and the fear of whatever waited for her once the plane arrived. The wind on the tarmac was blustering as she climbed stairs into the small private aircraft. A few deep breaths slowed her breathing and stilled her nerves, as she carefully made sure her new heels didn't slip along the narrow metal steps.

"You're not scared, are you?" Jesse asked with concern as she settled into her seat.

"I've never been in an airplane before," she admitted.

He smiled, "You're going to love it," he insisted. "Especially flying in style. Plus, it's the fastest way to Seattle, which means more time for you to get to know Orin and Siobhan. You're just lucky I keep spare passports laying around for emergencies."

When the plane lifted from the ground, her heart jumped as if it was trying to climb its way into her throat as a means to escape. She saw Jesse watching her, likely reading her feelings with the intimate depth only her pack mates could. They were easily exposed, especially when it was something she wasn't proud of or eager to share- namely her weaknesses and fears.

"Chill out," he told her. "Even if we crash, we won't die. We'd just have a really long swim, that's all. You can swim, can't you?"

"Yes, and that's not comforting." She laughed, attempting in the nervousness to share her comrade's point of view.

As the plane began to level out, he reached into a compartment next to his seat, retrieving a bottle of wine. He uncorked it loudly, pouring two deep glasses, cradling one in his hand while passing the other over to her. "Here, take the edge off," he said.

"Back at the house, you didn't get a chance to finish. Just how did you figure out how the bracelets work? I'm putting a lot of trust in you that they will."

"It's a drawn-out story so better I give you the shorter version. It wasn't easy. It took a year of words and a lot of research to figure it out, but Danu means to flow."

"Why didn't you take them to the Druid and get his help?" Devon asked.

"Are you crazy? They would have taken them away. Call it gut instinct, but I knew these bad boys were special."

She took a sip from the glass before looking out the window at the tiny world passing below. Something in Jesse's story seemed quickly played out as if he was avoiding talking about it. Devon wasn't sure why, but something about it tugged at her insides, she felt uncomfortable with the idea of hiding these bracelets from the family. Still, Jesse had never lied to her, at least not that she could tell. Without him, this opportunity wouldn't be possible, and she was just as guilty at now hiding things from the family. Judging Jesse for doing the same would be hypocritical of her. _In for a penny, in for a pound_ , she thought.

"So who else is part of this other family?" she asked, turning back to her partner in crime.

"They're small like we are." He shrugged. "Not that they have a choice. Law states no more than 20 members per pack. I still think more then 15 is risky in this digital age. Don't bother much with the others this trip. I'd spend your time concerned with what Orin thinks of you; winning his favor is all that matters."

Then he gave her a piece of information she wished someone had shared with her a week before. "You're going to have to focus your mind a lot more when you're around them. Our thoughts and emotions aren't easy to hide from each other, especially an Alpha— a simple smile won't work."

"Then what do you suggest?" she asked.

"Find your happy thought, Wendy dear." He swirled his glass, slopping a little of the wine over the rim.

"Very cute. Is that what the wine is for?" she teased.

"I call that plan B. Seriously. It's as simple as thinking of a time when you were confident, of something or someone that you love, and tapping into that. Let the thought become what you're actually feeling. That energy will come to the surface. What were you thinking of at the cafe, when you had me thinking Rowland said no?"

"I don't think it was any specific thought. Honestly, I don't remember."

"Well, whatever you did it worked for a minute, so that's something. That's the reason we work so hard at meditation and finding control over our emotions," he explained. "It takes discipline to choose the energy you need in order to provoke the response you want. In this sense, we basically shape our realities."

"Oh, so that's what all that stuff was about. I thought Connor was just trying to be all Zen and anger management with me."

"Well," he said with a knowing smile, "I wouldn't exactly call you a well of tranquillity, but this isn't the time."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, searching for the words he wanted as though he might find them drifting by on the air. "Okay, so, Orin and Siobhan also have a son named Vince."

"What's he like?"

"Vince... hmmm. Best way to describe him is a wannabe Alpha. It's all he's ever really wanted to be, but he knows it's not possible to be one."

"Wait," she interrupted. "Why isn't he an Alpha? You said he's Orin's son."

He held up a finger. "Yes, but," he said. "The line of succession doesn't work the same way in wolf packs as it does in mortal royalty. In order to be an Alpha, you have to be bitten and made after being carefully selected. If you were born a werewolf, then you're just a werewolf. Parentage doesn't guarantee the right qualities."

"Ahhh." She nodded. "That does make a certain amount of sense."

"Exactly. So basically, he's going to have a huge hate-on for you."

"Because I'm going to be an Alpha?"

"Yes, that, and because you're a girl. Don't forget to add the fact that you came into your situation by accident and you still might get the opportunity to lead. So really, against all of our rules, you've stumbled into something that he feels should have been his birthright."

"Jesus," she said. "I'll keep all that in mind when I'm around him. What else should know about?"

"Not much. Vince has his little wolf pack that Orin lets him keep. Matt, Josh, and Rob. Complete douchebags, of course, but they probably won't say anything to you. They mostly stand behind Vince and try to look tough. They all started as bouncers at the club. It's pretty sad, really."

They both shared a laugh.

"You might take some heat off of Kaden," he said, "the new Alpha that Orin's created."

"Kaden, what a unique name." Devon was intrigued. Somehow, she hadn't thought of the other pack's need for a successor.

"Well, his name is actually Kevin, but Kaden means battle in old English. And honestly," he grinned. "Who's going to take a leader with the name Kevin seriously?"

"I see your point," she laughed. She found herself fascinated. "Who else?"

"Ariana and Gerald are bar lifers. For the life of me, I don't know why they were ever created. He's major beta, and she's just basic. Their whole lives revolve around being at the bar and trying to feel important. Lucky for you, being the hottest new girl, I'm sure they'll want to become your new BFFs."

"Oh, great," she said with exaggerated sarcasm. "Sounds like they're right up my alley."

"FYI, Ariana was Orin's mistress. One night she thought she was being sneaky, breaking into the club to tell Siobhan of their affair, hoping to lock Orin down as her own. Whoopsie for her, it was the night of the full moon, and well, you can guess what happened next."

"Good lord, he turned her? I bet Siobhan was thrilled."

"Honestly, I'm surprised Orin let her live. She must at least be a good lay or something."

"So far, you're not selling me on the idea that this family is just misunderstood."

"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I'm not done! Okay, so, who else?" He raised his hand, counting on fingers as he went. "Oh yeah, Bear is the head bouncer. He comes across as a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he's just a big teddy bear underneath. Hence the nickname. Gil is the head bartender -- he and Vince have been pilfering money from the club for years, but everyone knows about it. Lexi is one of the bartenders, and she's super sweet."

He stopped, seeing her skeptical look. "All right, I get that it doesn't sound like the greatest group. But it's all perspective. Our own family wouldn't sound so great laid out like this, either, especially after Rowland accidentally made you the new Alpha."

Humbled by the reminder, she said nothing.

"Mostly our feud stems from jealousy coming from their side. I can't blame them when you look at the big picture. Over a thousand years of bad history with our people behaving as if they are our lessers. They have always been dependant on us for masking bracelets and weapons. Hell, we have a Druid, the means to create unbreakable weapons, and to top it off, they also blame us for their own existence. All that is just scratching the surface."

Though she understood what she was being told, none of it seem to fit when compared against the bigger picture. These people had a choice in how they chose to behave. Didn't they? Either they were all just a bunch of victim blamers, or there were some significant omissions in Jesse's explanation.

"Something is missing, a piece of the puzzle that explains what they did to Smith. Whatever it was created his hatred towards me," she said. "He seems to also use it as his reasoning behind why all women except Keryn are evil and are not to be trusted. What is it, some kind of Adam and Eve story? Is there a bad apple in there somewhere?"

"Well," he said. "I'm forbidden to tell you. Everyone in the family is forbidden, and when an Alpha forbids something, we have to obey."

"But what about taking me to Seattle, then?" she asked, more playful than challenging.

"Ah. No one said taking you out of town was forbidden, so technically there's my loophole, and I love loopholes. As for telling you all the dirty little secrets, well, you could try commanding me. It would be a command against a command. Maybe it would work, or maybe my brain will rip itself apart, leaving you shit out of luck tonight." He grinned. "Now, shut up, drink your wine, and enjoy the flight. You're making me nervous."

She took another long sip from her glass, staring out the window at the blackness of the water below, wondering if this was the right play in the supernatural chess game that was now her life. Over her mental chatter and doubt, she struggled in an attempt to find just _one_... _happy_... _thought_.

Chapter Thirteen

GOODBYE

All around, waves of thumping bass saturated the night as the limousine pulled up in front of the club. Devon could feel it pulsing throughout the car, pressing like groping hands against the black dress that clung to her body. She took one last shaky breath, exhaling deeply as she waited for the chauffeur to open the door. When she stepped out onto the pavement, a crowded lineup of people pushed against the red velvet ropes, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone famous.

Straight ahead, barring the club door like a centurion, stood a man even more massive than Smith. There were subtle differences between the two; unlike Smith, his bulk wasn't all muscle, but his size — combined with his frozen look of displeasure — had her wistfully glancing back at the limo.

The masses of people waiting to gain access seemed endless as they stretched around the block. With a devilish smile, Jesse took her by the arm, escorting her past the cold glances from the non-VIP shivering in their sheer dresses and impractical suits.

At their approach, the imposing man pulled the rope aside, his face instantly transformed by the infectious smile he gleamed down onto them. Unsure as to why, Devon placed her hand along his arm and whispered thanks as they passed along the carpeted walk through the barricade.

Just inside, floor to ceiling windows of frosted glass lined the right wall, illuminating the hallway as people's silhouettes floated past the panes like moving art. At the end of the hall stood a large glass booth, decorated to resemble that of an old movie theatre box office.

As they made their entrance, Devon was captivated by the most elegant women she had ever seen. Perched under the neon lights she emanated royalty, and her flawless ebony skin glowed a beautiful shade of blue. An emerald jeweled band matching the green of her eyes held back a cascade of natural afro curls from her high forehead, and along her slender neck hung a chandelier necklace draped over a form-fitting sheer silver top.

Even though she wasn't one, it was hard not to feel like a gawky juvenile girl just standing in the proximity of this majestic lady. With her rare blend of strong and delicate features, it was also evident the woman was also tall in stature. Since seated, the woman sat eye-level with Jesse, who stood outside the booth.

The woman didn't speak, only looking demurely at Jesse before gesturing with her eyes towards a door on the right. The bouncers observed her as they pulled the ropes aside, reading the cues in the woman's serene expression. Her majestic face only shifted once more, as she followed Devon's glance with a graceful wink and the hint of a smile.

Beyond the doors the nightclub was packed. The dance floor seethed with bodies moving rhythmically to the sound of heavy dubstep. The music encompassing them was more force then sound making the dancers sway like crazed marionettes. No matter the volume it wouldn't keep Devon from speaking effortlessly with Jesse, on account of her new werewolf hearing.

"Who was that woman?!" she asked, holding onto his arm as they made their way through the crowd.

"Her name is Kabira," he said, "Around here she is called 'The Guardian.'"

"Is she a werewolf? I didn't feel any vibes from her."

He glanced at her face, smirking. "This isn't Highlander, you know. And no genius, she's not a werewolf, she's something much fiercer."

Having believed the werewolves to be alone in their uniqueness, she was both excited and confused by this news, unable to imagine what could be fiercer.

"I thought you said we were the only supernatural beings?" she asked.

He burst out laughing. "She's transgender, not a werewolf," he answered.

Feeling stupid, she couldn't quite follow his meaning.

By the look on Devon's face, he could see the terminology was lost on her. "What?" he asked. "Did you grow up inside a barn or something? The only reason I'm telling you is that I have her permission. Don't be going around asking trans people about their business." He shook his head in mock disbelief, still smiling. "Okay, I'll give you the simple version. Kabira's brain was always female, but her body decided to 'dude out' when she was still in the womb."

She slowly absorbed it, trying to pair this information with the image of the elegant woman she had just seen.

"Ohhhh...," she said. "Wait, seriously? She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen! Wow!"

He nodded with approval. "Well, you're right about that, she _is_ the most beautiful women," he said. "Aside from being the hottest woman in here, and she's also _the_ woman. The whole city's nightlife revolves around her, and she decides who's in and who's out. If she doesn't like your energy or who you are, you're denied entry. And if you're denied here, then frankly, you're nobody. I've watched people offer her cash, gifts... its insane how many men try endlessly to get her attention. In all the years, I've never actually seen her go home with anyone. I think it's the secret to her staying power." His smile grew wider. "That, and I think she and Siobhan have something going on."

Devon was surprised in her travels that she had never crossed paths with a woman like Kabira. Maybe she had and just never realized; either way, this excursion had undoubtedly been enlightening. Besides opening her mind, she could see how their lifestyles differed radically from the pack she might lead. On the island it was all protocol and the ancient ways, here it seemed the only rule was anything goes.

"Speaking of the Queen," Jesse said, raising his arm towards the upper balcony. She followed his gesture to a woman in an expensive black evening gown, her dark, curled hair hanging loose and free like a shawl over her shoulders. Siobhan looked down on them with little expression, raising her glass to Jesse as Devon waved with a reserved smile.

He pinched her arm before whispering, "Stronger. Remember, you're an Alpha."

She quickly straightened her posture, pulling her hand back to smooth her hair in the hope it would seem as though the wave had been more lazy than shy.

Just then, a dark figure she could only assume was Orin stepped up behind Siobhan, drawn no doubt by the energies exchanged between the two women. For being painted a villain, he was nothing like she expected. For some reason, Devon had pictured him taller, built, and more sinister. Instead, he was angular and slender, his greying hair worn long, tied low at the back of his neck. Almost in the way of marking his territory, he slid a possessive hand around Siobhan's waist; while grinning down and eyeing Devon over.

Jesse leaned in. "Good. That means he wants us to go up."

"How do you know?" She asked.

"If he didn't, he would have walked away, and you would be back outside already."

Beneath the VIP lounge, the elevator was guarded by a pair of unimpressive bouncers. Both the men wore matching black suits standing with their arms crossed, puffing their chests as she walked closer. She waited for Jesse to speak, expecting the bouncers would recognize him automatically. Instead, he turned and raised his brows meaningfully. Of course; what was she waiting for? Since when in her life did she step down to the likes of these mouth breathers- she was an Alpha dammit!

Stepping forward, she calmly looked the guards over. "Move," she said firmly, her stance suggesting rank and privilege. The two men reacted instantly, dropping their arms as they cowered off to the side.

"Color me impressed, what were you thinking about?" Jesse asked as they entered the elevator, pressing the button for the upper floor.

"Nothing actually. That was just like the time I made a dog back down from attacking one of the kids outside the group home."

He laughed. "Fitting, and not far from the truth. The psychology is certainly comparable. However, I hope you've got more in your bag of tricks, because here we go."

When the elevator doors opened, she was shocked to see the VIP lounge so sparsely populated.

Jesse used a nod and two-finger salute to address Orin and Siobhan before making a b-line to the bar.

There was little subtlety in his social que: she was on her own. Without faltering, she approached the royal couple with an extended hand.

Before she could utter a word, her hand was seized by Orin's. Unfortunately for Devon, rather than a diplomatic hand shake he pulled it to his mouth. Each of his thin lips curled around her knuckle as he laid a wet kiss upon her skin. "You must be the elusive Devon we have heard so much about," he said. "I'm surprised. That in itself is a rare thing indeed. Does Rowland know you're here, breaking his precious rules?"

"No, he doesn't," she answered. "I wasn't aware that an Alpha required permission to do as they please?" She could tell by the way he smiled that this was precisely what he had hoped to hear.

"Well, you are an interesting thing, aren't you?" he said.

Smiling politely, she turned anxiously to the beautiful woman at his side. This was one person she genuinely wanted to meet during her visit. "You must be Siobhan."

The smile was returned, though perhaps with less enthusiasm than Orin had shown.

"Jesse said your beauty was impressive, but I think he's made a rare understatement in this case," Devon said.

Orin chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere with her," he assured.

Out of the few bodies in the lounge, there was one other. A man whom, since her entry, had stared venomously in their direction as he sipped at his drink. Only best to be described as a weaselly version of Orin straddling a backward chair trying to look tough. With sad predictability, Devon knew precisely who it was.

Following the direction of her gaze, Orin called over to him. "Vince, come and join us, son."

Dutifully listening to his father's command, he quickly left his chair; drink in hand, swaggering over to where they stood. Devon wondered whether or not werewolves could even become drunk as she watched his exacerbated movements. If the things Jesse had said were right, Vince's gait was due more to false bravado than inebriation. Just like the bouncers below, he flexed his chest in an apparent effort to seem more significant before standing next to his father.

"This is my son Vince," Orin said. "He seems to have left his manners elsewhere this evening." He turned to his son. "You are in the presence of an Alpha, my dear boy. Act like it." he reminded.

Vince glanced to his father with hesitation. Orin's face was turned from Devon's view, but whatever he observed there procured a broken smile of compliance.

"It's pleasing to have you in our house finally," he said, doing his best to sound sincere.

_Pleasing? What a bunch of bullshit,_ she thought. Still, she smiled graciously, knowing there could be no chance of friendship between Vince and herself, beyond forced civility. "Charmed, I'm sure," she answered, hearing Jesse's stifled giggle as he mixed his drink behind the bar.

"Well, my dear," Orin piped in, breaking through the moment's awkwardness with what felt like mock excitement. Devon was not the only one who could feel a strange shift in energy; she could see Jesse's eyebrow raise from behind the bar. "Enjoy my house as though it were yours. I will let my wife show you around the rest of the club."

Devon opened her mouth to object.

"No, buts, my dear," he carried on. "We have all night to become acquainted. What kind of host would I be if I didn't prepare for Kaden to meet you? Seeing that he is a _proper_ -" clearing his throat, he switched course mid-sentence. "He is my successor and my family's next Alpha."

As he stepped into the elevator, Orin beckoned to his son by snapping his fingers twice and calling his name. "Vince?"

Vince's artificial smile dissolved as he quickly hurried. There was no attempt in hiding his rage, energy pulsated outward as he made his way over. Devon wasn't sure if it was all just towards her, or how poorly his father was treating him. Still, with a concealed look of anger upon his face, he stared at her through the closing doors.

Jesse returned from behind the shelter of the bar with a tray of drinks balanced with one arm. Devon figured he kept his distance long enough to observe the dynamics that occurred between herself and the higher echelon of the Seattle pack. There was no subtlety about it, and now, she had to ask herself whether this trip was all part of some higher test orchestrated by Rowland. Quickly, she dropped the idea. It wasn't that she wouldn't have put it past him, only she didn't want to encourage her mind into moving from caution to paranoia just yet.

"And for the ladies," he said, handing each of them a drink of his making.

"You're not having one?" Devon noticed only the two glasses.

"Sadly no, but I will be back a little later to check up on you."

"You're leaving?" she asked, unable to disguise her dismay.

"Fret not my little Alpha," he said smoothly, "I'll be back. I'm going to check out a few queer clubs in the area. Besides, I have some business to take care of."

As he placed a kiss on her cheek, she could feel his energy for a slight second shift towards something cold and tense, enough to cause a shiver of goosebumps along her arm. Left unaware of its meaning, she watched as he left down the fire exit door behind the bar.

Once, Jesse was gone, Siobhan took her by the hand and directed her to one of the leather couches. "Come. Sit with me. I've been waiting for what feels like an eternity to meet you."

Siobhan studied her torn expression as the exit doors closed. "Now then, enough of that. You needn't concern yourself over him," she said. "He's very resourceful, but I don't have to tell you that, do I? I'm rather impressed that he was able to _sneak_ you over here."

"I didn't sneak," Devon responded bluntly, but Siobhan was too sharp to miss the lack of confidence in both her voice and her scent.

"Oh, Devon. There's no need for lies between us," she said. "Let the men live in their corrupted reality, but let's not start off what I'm sure will be an exceptional friendship with dishonesty. How do you think I knew you were coming?"

"Jesse?" Devon asked, quickly giving up her pretense.

"Of course," she said with a nod. "He trusted me enough to tell me without having to fear I might inform Orin, and by extension, Rowland." She leaned forward, a dark curtain of hair sweeping along one side of her face. "They might be Alphas, but I am a queen. I know you have little reason, but I will earn your trust in time. Unlike Rowland, I haven't hidden anything from you, lied or taken from you the way he has. If it were up to him, he would have killed you that night, if not for the fact that you turned yourself."

"Well it wasn't on purpose, it was an accident." Devon reminded her.

"There are no accidents. It seems to me that the Gods decided it was time for a change, don't you think?" She reclined into the couch again with a toss of her hair.

"I never really thought of it that way," Devon said, tracing the edge of her finger around the rim of the glass. "He did try to kill me."

Siobhan shook her head in agreeance. "And now, in his carelessness, he has taken your life and put it where death hangs over you again. I'm not them. I want to help you, Devon."

Even with being able to sense the woman's conviction, Devon questioned her. "Why?" she asked. "Why would you help me? You don't even know me, and from what I understand, our two families seem to hate each other."

"That's easy," Siobhan answered. "Female leaders are a rare breed, and amongst us wolves, almost unheard of. It's sad how certain things have remained stagnant throughout time. I may not be an Alpha, but I've been around for fourteen hundred years watching the recklessness inflicted from both sides, and I'm still here. I've been waiting for an event or something that would bring change to this misogynistic system." She reached grasping her hand, holding it tight. "I guess I've been waiting for you, Devon. Please, let me help you."

Formed from times in her past, Devon had always been hesitant in trusting other women. Siobhan's intensity and eagerness for some secret alliance only served to make her wary. The motivations of men were ever more apparent to her, and yet she did feel something in her eyes, a sort of compassion and truth. When she claimed a hunger for change, Devon had no reason to disbelieve her.

"What could I do?" she asked.

Closing her eyes briefly, Siobhan shook her head in rejection of Devon's self-doubt. "You have already changed so much from what Jesse has told me. Between my advice and your life skills, there is nothing we can't achieve. Be the girl who walked up here with confidence. Even if it is just for show, your energy will be enough to fool Orin in his arrogance. It keeps you interesting, which also keeps you alive."

Devon nodded slowly, hearing in Siobhan's words the echo of Jesse's earlier advice.

"The rest," Siobhan said, "You can leave it up to me. For now, come, I want you to meet the rest of our family."

Back downstairs, "So who are the knuckle draggers?" Devon asked about the bouncers as they passed, sparing no niceties.

Siobhan dismissed the idea. "They are exactly that- no one important. Simple play toys to keep my son happy."

The first person she was introduced to was Lexi, the Seattle family's newest member to both pack and bar staff. Lexi, a Chinese Canadian who moved to Seattle from Vancouver, was also a dedicated cyberpunk. Her hair consisted of woven metallic tubes pulled into massive pigtails on either side of her head, the clothes she wore were made of rubber that shone as though greased with oil.

Lexi was remarkably friendly, unlike the next person she met. The head bartender Gil, who spoke no more than two words after their introduction. Devon watched him pretend at being far busier than he was, she would have typed him as a swindler, even if Jesse hadn't already warned her; she'd met enough men like him to recognize the type.

There was solace in what Jesse told her, knowing the only peoples who opinion mattered were Siobhan and Orin. With that information she said as much to Siobhan, taking to heart that they were meant to be candid with one another. Siobhan laughed before explaining what Jesse had said, that together, Gil and Vince had been smuggling cash from the club for years, believing that she and Orin were none the wiser. Her excuse for allowing it was that it made Vince happy, leaving him with the belief he had won some triumph over his father.

Even though she made it all seem no more than a childhood game, Devon could feel that Siobhan was concerned over her son's resentment at being perceived second best. It was evident that this was the source of her indulgence with him. Orin, on the other hand, appeared more embarrassed by his biological son, though Devon guessed he must harbor some shred of guilt as a parent, however well hidden.

"Come," Siobhan said, suddenly taking Devon by the hand, pulling her deep into the sea of people. At first, she was reluctant, slightly pulling against the lead of her hostess. This visit was supposed to be more of a business trip than leisure until the overpowering scent of pheromone-saturated sweat promptly persuaded her otherwise.

Each beat pounded, drawing her deeper into the crowds embrace. To Devon, a busy dancefloor was a perpetual space she could go to forget the turbulent worries of life. With her eyes closed, she felt the heat emanating from the bodies around her. It was their, surround by their warmth that Devon realized how badly she yearned for such a raw connection. There was nothing else to do but allow her body to submit to its longing.

Now, was not the time to be at odds with the purpose of her trip. Politics were the last thing she wanted on her mind. Dancing had always been one of her favorite things, and here, in another city, where no one knew she existed besides the underworld around her; created a perfect indulgent moment of freedom.

She moved with the swaying of figures, becoming fluid, experiencing a primal union with the surrounding bodies on a level entirely new for her. Each person appeared in tune with her as she became the axis around which the dancers turned. A shining presence on the dance floor, drawing their eyes and intentions towards her. From within the outskirts of the crowd, emerged a young couple who danced in sync with her movements.

A smirk of pleasure passed her lips as she laughed, searching the nearby faces for Siobhan- wanting to share the moment with her. Instead, her face was nowhere near. She must have been called away on some club related business, while Devon had been too absorbed to notice.

Both dancers moved in closer, the woman along her front while her male partner closed in from behind. It wasn't until the trio turned with the music, she finally spotted her hostess. Far across the room inside the DJ booth, her pale face was framed by a window as she stood watching over the dance floor, slowly spinning the silver band on her finger.

During her search for Siobhan, the dancers had closed the gap left between them. The girl reached up, running her hand along Devon's waist as her boyfriend nodded to the beat, grinning his approval.

All of her excitement changed rapidly into disorientation as Devon became overwhelmed by her senses. There was something wrong; her head spun as she fought to regain her equilibrium. Not far away through the crowd; she spotted an empty seat at Lexi's bar. With no time to excuse herself, she broke away from the enthralled couple and moved towards it; escaping the sea press of bodies. For a few minutes, she held onto the edge of the bar for a sense of grounding, trying to catch her breath as her heart raced.

"Not now, this can't be happening here." Within her deep breathing, she became aware of a scent that enticed her with new desires. There along the bar, she discovered the smell was coming from the waiter. She watched him like an animal stalking its prey as he loaded his tray with drinks just a few feet away. A tight-fitting black tank top stuck against his toned physique while his skin glistened from the heat of the club. As he passed her with the tray raised high, she leaned forward thoughtlessly, running her tongue along the inside of his armpit; driven to taste the smell that enticed her.

Before the tray of the startled man could fall, her hand slipped under his: setting it down along the bar. He opened his mouth to speak; his expression caught between anger and amusement. Devon's reaction was driven by instinct as she seized his face in her hands, kissing him deeply before his words could be collected. Still holding her mouth against his, she began pulling him towards a staff washroom beside the bar. Enthralled by her energy and impulsiveness, the waiter eagerly followed with a stupefied grin kissing her passionately.

Behind the closed door, she forced him up against the wall. With one hand against his throat, she ripped his belt free with the other before tossing it to the ground. She pulled him across the stall, pushing him down onto the seat of the toilet where she straddled him, kissing his face and mouth feverishly as he peeled her dress down.

All across her skin rushed a prickling heat, causing her body to quiver as he licked along the side of her breast. A scream of pain and pleasure cried out from the waiter, feeling her protruding claws tearing down the skin of his back. As the smell of his blood filled the room, her back arched, causing her head to glance up into the mirrored ceiling. There inside the reflection was a vision of Derrick corpse standing in the middle of the room looking back at her.

The vision of her past love pulled her mind out from what was happening. "Derrick, I'm sorry...wha...what the hell am I doing!" she said out loud. When she looked down, her fingertips were exposed claws dripping with blood, shaking as she held them in front of her. Devon pushed against the man's chest, spreading his blood across as she lifted off him. It was a struggle to put her dress back into place without the claws tearing it apart. Giving up on the dress, she turned on both taps of the bathroom sink. As the blood washed down the drain, she watched her fingers transform back into human extremities, all while apologizing profusely to the stranger across from her. How the hell did things escalate from dancing in a crowd to sexually mutilating a stranger in the bathroom? Although the young waiter grimaced with pain, he begged her not to stop, grabbing at her arm in an effort to bring her back.

"What the fuck have I done?" She said, leaving the man half-exposed upon the seat of the toilet as she wrenched open the bathroom door making her escape.

The heat and the noise bore down on her already saturated senses, while lights strobed causing her to stumble past Lexi, right into Siobhan.

"In here, and Lexi clean this up." The woman pulled Devon quickly into a storage space past the washroom, just behind the bar.

Nothing could stop her hands from still shaking, terrified at herself for what she had just done. "I ripped his back open!" she cried, hysterical.

"Shhh, you need to calm yourself," Siobhan murmured soothingly. "Take a deep breath; he'll be fine. Right now, we need to get you cleaned up." Grabbing a clean towel from the sink, Siobhan doused it with bleach, holding it under the warm water as Devon stood stricken.

"Here, come here," Siobhan coaxed, drawing her near as she wiped her hands and arms with a motherly gentleness. "This can be our little secret. Nobody else needs to know."

"But," Devon stammered, "Lexi?"

"Lexi listens to what I tell her. You can trust her," Siobhan assured. "I'll have it all cleared up. Just rinse the blood and bleach off and go out there and pretend that none of this happened. There are no cameras on this section, Orin won't know." Throwing the bloodied bar rag into the trash, she took Devon's face in her hands, looking her in the eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes to help you," she said, her former intensity returning. "We need to stick together."

Back amongst the crowd, an intense fear ticked away at the back of her mind. _What if what happened with the waiter happens again? Maybe I shouldn't stay here? But I have to wait in case Orin to returns._

Lexi giggled as Devon took a stool at the bar. "Chill your vibe there Alpha girl. Seriously, don't worry about the waiter," she said. "I've played with him myself, and he likes it _rough_." She bubbled over with laughter. "He'll probably ask for your number later."

Devon couldn't think of what to say, as her hands continued to shake.

Lexi glanced at her, her expression sobering slightly. "Looks like you need a drink and a distraction," she said.

"Water, please," Devon managed.

"Water? Oh no, you need something to take the nerve off." Lexi poured her a shot of bourbon. "So, did you always grow up on the island? What did you do in your previous life?"

Part of her was hesitant on how much information she should give out to these new people, but Lexi now had more leverage on her than anyone else. What else did she have to lose? "Mostly, the island, my dad lives in Vancouver," Devon said while politely downing the shot.

"No way! Vancouver born and raised right here. Well, in my old life, Not this one. I used to own a fetish clothing store in Gastown. Strangely enough, I still own it. I was able to sell the business back to myself under my new name. Thanks to the handy bracelets your family makes no one is the wiser. I'm heading there in an hour to check in on things."

It surprised her to see the Smith's craftsmanship upon the wrist of a member not of her pack. Especially with his aversion to Orin's clan.

Ever since her transformation, she yearned to check in on her father. "You're lucky to have that kind of freedom. I'd love to go to Vancouver, but there is not enough time and no way to get there. I'm not exactly _here_ if you know what I mean."

"You have two feet and heartbeat last time I looked you over," Lexi replied.

Devon looked at her, confused at her meaning.

"We can run there in less than half an hour. I know easy ways around the border. Why don't you come with me? I can show you if you like. As long as you're quick we would be gone two maybe three hours max. It's not a big deal, and we would be back here for the last call. I promise."

This idea screamed of trouble, but if there was any chance to see her father she was going to take it. "I'm in," she said excitedly.

"Perfect, meet me outside the club in half an hour, it takes about 20 minutes this time of night to get outside the city. Don't worry; there is a stash of clothes by the border we can change into, something a bit more incognito." Her finger ran up and down in the air. " _That_ outfit was not designed for running."

"I guess you're right," Devon laughed. "Not to sound like a broken record, but nobody else saw the waiter, right?"

"We all find it better not to see anything around here," she said. "Again, don't worry, he's all patched and safely on his way home in a cab. Nobody else in the family saw anything...and speaking of nobodies."

As she spoke, a new pair of wolves swooped in, grabbing the stools to either side. They had yet to be introduced, but having met almost everyone else, Devon had little difficulty placing them as Gerald and Ariana.

"Oh Lexi, stop boring Devon," Ariana groaned. "Ignore her, she's new," she said by way of explanation.

Lexi gave her a sneer, though Ariana ignored it as she laid a hand on Devon's arm. "We just found out you were in town and had to come and meet you since everyone's been in such a stir since you showed up." She turned to Gerald, speaking across Devon as though she were no longer there. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Gerald?"

"Not as beautiful as you Ariana." He stammered softly before sipping at his rum and coke.

"Oh, Gerald, stop. Hey, what sign are you, Devon?" she suddenly asked. "Wait, let me guess... you're a Scorpio?"

"Gemini, actually," Devon answered, finding it difficult to stay focused after the shock she'd had only minutes ago.

"Really?" Ariana exclaimed. "Wow, I would never have guessed, I'm usually dead on. Okay, your turn, guess what I am?"

Devon could tell this girl had managed to maintain such a cliched routine as an icebreaker for most of her life. She was as familiar with this type of person as she was Gil, the bartender. They were people who fed on a stagnant social scene and were nearly stagnant themselves, choosing a set of things around which their lives would revolve without ever-growing past them.

"I honestly have no idea," she answered without bothering to attempt a guess. Ariana didn't seem to mind, content with a chance to resume talking about herself.

"I'm a Leo, of course!" she crowed. "It's so obvious since I'm totally assertive, it's just my personality. Leos are extremely loyal and strong...." she continued to prattle on, occasionally peppering her self-centered monologue with overt flattery reserved for Devon.

Gerald, on the other hand, remained silent. His eyes never leaving Ariana as he paid rapt attention, nodding to her every word. Growing fatigued, Devon stabbed at the ice in her drink with a straw, readying herself for a polite exit from their company.

Before she made her excuses, there was an unmistakable shift in the energies around her. Whatever it was, caused Gerald and Ariana also to take notice. When she turned her chair to look, she located a black-haired man standing next to the stage; his eyes fixed on her from across the dance floor. As she stared, he pushed off from his spot at the edge of the crowd, making his way towards her through the writhing masses. Without a thought to the ongoing dialogue, Devon gave the empty glass to Gerald and stood, leaving Ariana speaking to the empty air.

With grace, she wove through the people, hastening her pace to reach the dark-haired stranger. Inside the epicenter of the crowd with their eyes locked, they slowly circled one another as she drank in his scent. The energy was fresh and new to her, covering his body in a hue of electricity; like an aura.

The intensity of his expression softened into a smile, and he leaned in closer. "You're really different," he said, sniffing at her hair.

Devon caught herself blushing. "I was going to say the same thing about you," she said.

A chill in the air severed the moment as they looked up in unison to see Orin observing them from above. Aside from his energy, there was no masking the look of displeasure that clung stiffly upon his face.

"Sorry, I think I may have gotten you in trouble," the man said. "I think we should go up there. Follow me," he said as he took her hand.

The skin on his palm tingled against hers as he led Devon through the crowd past Ariana's chill gaze.

"Well, at least you always have Gerald here as a backup for last call," Lexi said from behind the bar. "I doubt Kaden is as much like Orin as you're hoping, but then again, what do I know? I'm new." She clinked her shot glass against Ariana's with a smile, before knocking it back. Devon couldn't help but overhear the half-hearted condolence offered to Ariana, as she laughed under her breath.

"I see you found Kaden before I managed it myself," Orin said. "He was supposed to be training."

"I'm always training," Kaden answered.

Devon experienced a moment of sympathy. "Yeah, I've been doing the same thing. Coming over here is the first time I've left the house in a week."

Kaden's eyes lit with excitement. "Maybe we could train together?" he asked.

She was about to respond when Orin slipped between them. "Kaden, I'm sure Devon has a lot of questions for me." He turned to her with questioning eyes. "It was me you came here to look for tonight, wasn't it?"

As much as it wanted to, her smile didn't falter. "Well, yes," she said truthfully. "You're right. I did come here to speak with you. About my possible execution."

The expression on Kaden's face made it clear he had not been aware of this. _Maybe Rowland and Orin aren't so different from each other after all_ , she thought.

"What execution?" Kaden asked, his eyes darkening.

Orin laughed theatrically at the seriousness in their faces. "Oh, who said anything about death?" he asked. "You children, so dramatic."

He turned to Kaden, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think this is a matter between Devon and myself. It's time for you to go back to your training and this time stay there until I send for you."

The implication of his tone was clear. Devon found herself disappointed, certain she wouldn't be seeing Kaden again tonight. He nodded and left, turning with one last smile for her before the elevator doors closed.

"It seems my son finds you as interesting as I do," Orin said with a smile of his own, his voice uncomfortably intimate. The happy thought, as Jesse had called it, was hard to find in the Alpha's clinging presence.

She held onto her confidence, neglecting to play into his flattery. "I was informed my life rested in your hands," she said.

"I assume Rowland told you this?" he asked.

"Well, yes, who else?"

He shook his head ruefully, clicking his tongue. "You sweet, naive girl. How can you believe a man who has wronged you in the ways that he has?"

She may not be naive, but there was merit in Orin's words. Still, she swallowed, raising her chin.

"I took nothing from Kaden," he continued. "He had no family, no lover, no _children_. There was only him. Rowland should never have picked your lover knowing there was an attachment of the heart." He paused. "Oh, but of course, they blame their choices on God-given visions. Don't be foolish. We have the free will to choose our leaders."

Although she wanted to argue somehow, there was nothing she could say to make his words any less true. She felt almost helpless against them.

"I respect human life, and the things that are important to humans," he said. "I know better than to underestimate the convictions of the human heart. As a dedicated Alpha, I would never lead my heir astray with lies, the way Rowland has done."

"So I'm not in danger of losing my life?" she asked.

"Technicalities, my dear." He shrugged. "Sordid technicalities that we are expected to follow for the sake of tradition. You were a nobody a few weeks ago, and now here you are an Alpha. As much as I would love to believe that you are who you say you are, I have to safeguard my family. Family is everything, after all." He reached out to rub the back of her arm reassuringly. "Don't worry your pretty head about it. Just train and be a good student for your mentor. In three months' time, when we officially meet, this will all seem exactly what it is, useless politics and procedures."

His hand slid further down her arm, taking her hand. "I hope to have you bridge the gap between our families after Rowland and I have passed. When Kaden takes over leadership of my pack, it would warm my heart to know your family will support him. It pleases me to see how well he has taken to you." He smiled. "After hundreds of years, I'm ready to let go and move on from this world. Someday you will understand the weariness of it all. Of course, I will have to see you for more than one night, if I'm going to make a proper evaluation."

He lifted her hand, again laying a kiss against her limp fingers. "Perhaps something more private than this teeming nightclub?"

Suppressing the urge to snatch her hand away, she straightened her back, mustering a smile she prayed seemed genuine. "Until then."

With as much dignity as she could manage, she turned and walked away, feeling Orin's gaze coveting her already. _If he wants me, then he's less likely to order my death_. She thought.

Inside the elevator with the doors closed, her finger went to stab at the button, thinking only of returning to street level until it began to ascend. Someone must have summoned the elevator before her; she cursed.

As the doors opened on the fourth floor, she found Siobhan waiting. Seeing her, Devon held the door to ask whether Jesse had returned.

"You've just missed him," Siobhan said. "I was about to come and find you. He said he would meet you at the hotel quite late tonight. I'd be happy to call a car to take you there."

Devon wasn't thrilled that Jesse had chosen not to find her himself, but whatever this business was that he'd mentioned must have become more demanding than he had expected.

"No need, I'm going to stick around downtown for a while. I've never been to Seattle before."

"Of course, our home is your home," she reassured Devon.

"Are you coming down?" she asked Siobhan.

"No," I was coming to find you, and now I have." Siobhan laid a hand against her cheek and smiled. "Till your next visit," she said, as Devon let the elevator close.

In the darkness of the room, Jesse stepped out from the heavy drapes that hid the city, and himself. "I did what you wanted," he said in a low voice. "I got her over here. We're squared now, right?"

Siobhan turned away from the elevator doors; her chin propped thoughtfully against her loose fist. "Only once I have her trust," she said.

"That wasn't part of the deal," he protested. "You said she would be safe if I did this for you!"

"It's over when I say it is," she barked back. "That's how these things work. Perhaps next time, you should be more careful to have the upper hand. Besides, she's safe as long as you play your role."

Jesse huffed, "what is she to you anyway, Siobhan? What role does Devon play in whatever plan you've come up with?"

She smiled darkly. "That girl is the r _eckoning_ I've been waiting a very, very long time for."

Lexi wasn't kidding about how fast their speed allowed them to travel. They left the outskirts of the Seattle, sticking close to the coastlines until they arrived in Delta where Lexi had a car waiting to take them the rest of the way.

Up until this point Devon trusted Lexi, but with the safety of her father she wasn't taking chances. After a short tour of the girl's shop in Gastown, they parted ways. It was easy; she made some vague excuse about surprising a friend and that she would return in an hour to head back. In return Lexi didn't even bat an eye, she just smiled and wished her luck.

As the taxi drove through the city Devon once called home, she became overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of the streets and the faces passing by the tinted windows. During this visual stream, the need to see her father and his house heightened. She wanted nothing more than to see something that would ground her to her former reality, a visual anchor that might chase away the alienation holding her in its grip.

The driver obeyed without question as she commanded that he pull over. It was a tad bit paranoid, but across the street, she spotted an idle cab. After paying, she ran across the heavy nighttime traffic and climbed into the backseat.

"My light's on, kid," said the man behind the wheel with a look of annoyance. "I'm on a break."

She leaned forward, reaching out to touch his arm, drawing thoughts of her father to the forefront of her mind. "I really need a ride, please."

The driver's shoulders straightened, his gruff expression melting to a gentle smile. "For you, kid? Anything. Just let me know where I can take you."

She knew that it wasn't fair to use her ability like this, but she needed to see him. Thanking the driver, she directed him across the Lion's Gate Bridge into North Vancouver; it wasn't long before the cab was pulling up to the curb in front of Mark's house.

The car idled for a moment until she requested the man park just a few houses further down. This moment was what she wanted, and yet she was frozen. Unsure of what to do or what coming out here would achieve.

"You okay?" the driver asked, his eyes full of empathy and concern.

"Yeah... sorry," she said. "I'll be right back if it's okay for you to wait?"

"Yeah kid, don't worry about it."

Despite its convenience, she was unnerved by how compliant people became when she used her energy in this way. To know that the man behind the wheel, though a stranger, could be influenced to risk his life if she asked him to.

She left the car, quietly slipping through the darkness into her father's backyard. Just beyond the curtains, his television flickered with a ghostly glow as the evening passed into the early hours of the morning. Keeping low to the ground, she crept towards a window, peering past the kitchen into the shadowy room beyond the glass.

As she hoped, her father was still awake sitting in his Lazy Boy. Instead of the man she remembered, he looked tired and unkempt, his clothing rumpled and his face badly in need of a shave. Mark was never a fussy man, but it was hard to see him in this broken state. Especially knowing she was the cause.

A sound of familiar laughter drew her attention to the TV screen. Tears stung her eyes as she realized just what he was watching alone in the dark. There on the screen was a home video taken during better days. In it, they were fishing alongside her father's closest friend Breckon, during a holiday they had taken together before he'd moved away. Devon smiled, as her former self proudly held a wriggling trout in her arms, laughing as her father teased her over its inferior size. She was so happy then, ready to take on a bright new future without any hint of the devastation to come.

Devon desperately wanted to reach out to him, to throw open the sliding glass door and declare her presence, telling him things were going to be okay. But that wasn't true. They weren't separated by a simple pane of glass, but by centuries of bloody history and the gulf between humanity and myth.

Unaware that he was no longer alone, her father stood from his chair and moved across the room in what could only be described as a zombie-like state; his feet shuffled as though his steps towards the TV were the last few feet of an exhausting journey. When he pressed the pause button on the DVD player, it stopped on an image of Devon's smiling face. What she witnessed next shattered her heart.

Mark fell crying to one knee, grabbing onto the TV stand before kissing his hand and pressing it against the reflection of her cheek. "Goodbye, Kiddo," she heard him say between sobs under the rasp of television static. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dad" she whispered. There was no way to know when she would see him again. Tears streamed as she pressed her fingers to her lips, placing them gently against the windowpane before starting her long journey back to Seattle.

After parting ways with Lexi outside the night club, Devon returned to the hotel. Laid out upon the pillow of her bed, she found a note waiting with a hundred-dollar bill attached. _"Come to the roof. Give the money to a bellhop, and he'll take you up. Jesse."_

Before doing as the note instructed, she took the time to change, slipping into her jeans with a desperate need to feel more herself again. When she was ready, Devon quickly found a bellboy as she roamed the hallway. Just as Jesse had said, once handed the money, he was more than happy to oblige her strange request.

The plan to meet him on the roof didn't leave her entirely thrilled since heights weren't her strong suit. It was like him to push her boundaries, which was probably why he invited her forty-seven stories from the ground, to the highest point in the city to chat.

Devon hesitated as she stepped out, causing her shoe to scratch along the gravel surface, creating a terrible sound. There was no response from Jesse, while he remained on his perch. The only movement was wind flapping his jacket collar, as each leg dangled down along a section of slanted glass overhanging the edge of the building. As she crept towards him, there was an irrational sensation that even the slightest breeze might lift her away from its surface.

"You're being human again," he called over his shoulder, the wind ruffling his hair. "You keep forgetting that you can't be hurt anymore."

"Why are we up here?" she called out across the wind.

"Perspective" was all he replied. The city spread out beneath him, lights twinkling in the dark below.

There was a sadness in his energy she had never felt before. As much as they weren't super close, she sat down behind him, legs dangling alongside his as she hugged his midsection; pressing her cheek against his back.

Jesse hugged the arms wrapped around him and paused for a moment looking out over the city. "Perspective of the world is what separates them and us," he continued. "Sometimes, I think about jumping."

"What would that accomplish?" Devon asked.

"Everything and nothing maybe. The ground would shatter, I might hit someone or maybe flatten a car. I could wake up the world." He spoke over his should. "Maybe the world needs it." Jesse returned his gaze to the city. "You can't see him, you know," he said. "Your father, I mean. The world can't know about us."

"Why not?" She asked, releasing her arms around him as she stood backing away from the edge. "Why would it matter?" As much as she trusted him, she wanted her tearful visit to her father's window kept secret. Even with sensing how deeply she missed Mark, Jesse still couldn't read her mind.

Abruptly, he rose, turning his back to the open void, facing her where she stood. "Okay. If it doesn't matter, then let's do it," he challenged. "Take my hand, close your eyes, and we can jump together."

"Are you crazy? I'm not jumping off a building!"

"Don't you get it?" he asked. "We jump, and we can change their perspective, rewrite their reality, and the history of the world. We could create war, disprove, and prove gods all at the same time. Or that domino of information could make the whole planet go insane."

These were similar to the words the Druid had spoken as she stood before him in the council room. Hearing them again, she had no argument. As much as Devon yearned to see her father, it wouldn't help him in any way if she tore apart the world in which he lived. His grief was already more than she could bear tonight. Besides, it wouldn't make her human again. For the second time this morning, her eyes filled with tears. "I miss him," she whispered sadly.

"I know you do, kitten," he said with feeling. "I had people that I loved and left behind. It's hard, but you can't torture yourself watching them try to move on. From personal experience, it's safer for them if you stay away."

She didn't know how to comfort him when she had only ever seen Jesse happy and carefree. The sadness in him worried her, though she knew that by telling her these things, he only had her well-being in mind. Devon nodded, and just like that, the Jesse she knew returned.

"Shall we paint this town before the sunrise? We have a few hours until we have to head to the airport," he said. "Want to come to an after-hours party with me?"

"No." She shook her head. "I've had my fill of crowds for one night. I'm going to stay here and clear my head before we head back to the island."

"Suit yourself," he said. "Just no jumping while I'm gone."

She wiped her eyes, smiling up at him. "If I jump, I'll make sure it's only with you. I wouldn't want to take all the credit for breaking the world."

Once she was alone, Devon stayed on the roof a while listening to the sounds of the city below. She had come to Seattle in search of some truth to take home with her, but her head was now more filled with questions then she had arrived. Orin's words coiled around her thoughts like a poisonous snake, striking her with fresh doubts and distrust. Why couldn't he just say that her death would come at the end of three months? At least that would be something definitive. Instead, the conditions laid out were far less palatable and less straightforward than becoming a suitable leader.

Still, this trip also gave her new allies. Lexi had proven to be a straightforward and potential friend, and besides Jesse, Siobhan seemed to be the only other wolf who had been the most honest with her. As things stood, she felt they were the only ones who weren't blowing smoke up her ass — a fitting phrase her father used to say.

Then there was Kaden. She wished she had gotten more time with him, especially since they shared relatively the same position. It was easy to imagine a future in which she and Kaden led the two clans, where change between the families could be possible. Together, perhaps they could negotiate a more substantial peace, one that didn't involve this level of backstabbing and secretiveness. Though these thoughts were ideal, in her life, she couldn't help but prepared for the worst.

Devon stood up, moving out onto the slanted glass where she let her toes hang slightly over the edge. Her fear washed away as a calmness entered her mind. This was her life. There was no escaping it, no way to wake from it....she had to fight, or die, and she had no intentions on giving up.

Chapter Fourteen

A ROGUE EXPLANATION

The sky was clear as they pulled up in front of the house while winter birds filled the grounds with song. It seemed strange that this quiet patch of land could exist on the same coast as the crowded city Devon had spent the night.

Thanks to Jesse; no one would be the wiser. Being that this wasn't his first rodeo, he had ways to mask all traces of the following evening. First, he made her bathe in a low-level acid scrub before taking multiple showers to remove the scent of their night out; which accounted for the remaining dampness in her hair. As she stood watching Jesse drive off, she was grateful for so many things that their escape had given her; seeing her father most of all. There was no excitement to be found as she pulled opened the front doors. She knew Alpha training was to resume around the clock at the moment of her return.

"Hellooo?" she called out. "Anyone home? I'm back." For a moment, there was only silence before Rowland's voice drifted from the council room, calling her to enter.

She stepped inside, standing before him without knowing what to say. "I'm back," she repeated.

"I can see that. I was worried you might not want to."

"As if I had a choice," she added, shrugging.

"No, I suppose not," he said. "Though I do hope that it helped ease some of your tension?" The concern in his voice was something she hadn't expected. Hearing it, she assumed he was troubled over her need to get away, perhaps even disappointed by the suggestion that life in the house was something that needed escaping.

"Yeah, sometimes a bit of space and time is enough to gain a better perspective." She sighed, dropping her bag to the floor. "So, more training, then?" she asked. "Let's get on with it."

Still preoccupied, he remained on his throne. "No," shaking his head. "No training today. The full moon is approaching next week and leaves us with more important things to discuss. Besides, the twins want to take you out for dinner tonight. They've had little time getting acquainted with you, since your awakening. I will admit that this is partly my fault with occupying all of your time with training. Your bonding within the family is perhaps more important than your training. That connection is the key towards building a solid foundation as pack Alpha."

The vast difference in his attitude towards family compared with Orin's was striking. It felt a bit petty not wanting to show her appreciation since Rowland was admitting to his faults, but she still held so much animosity towards him. Holding her energy focused on a neutral emotion, she smiled at the thought of how much kinder an Alpha Kaden would prove to be. That at least nothing was stolen from him, this was probably where most of his innocence stemmed. Unaware of its cause, Rowland seemed pleased to see her smile.

"I was supposed to meet Jenn at her house tonight," she reminded him.

"Don't worry. I've already spoken to her."

She sighed. "Of course you have."

He offered a reminder. "It isn't just _any_ full moon coming up; it's your first full moon. Earlier today, Keryn mentioned that you two had been down in the tunnels?"

"Yeah," she said. "She took me down there the first day I was training with Connor. I dreamt of those tunnels the night before that as if I'd been down there already. Did Keryn mention that also?"

"Dreamt of them?" he asked with interest. "No, she didn't tell me of any dreams...why didn't you bring this to me?"

"It was my second day here, and trust takes time. Frankly, Rowland, you haven't been around much during my training this past week. Besides, my dreams are personal."

"And yet you share your dreams with Keryn."

"Yeah, unlike you and Smith at least she made an effort. Don't worry, Jesse explained the transference."

"Good, I'm glad he has taken you under his wing," he said. "Your Alpha memories will drift in and out of your subconscious until it is time for you to receive them fully."

Devon frowned, still apprehensive over the idea of this process. Countless thoughts from another time, belonging to other people. She possessed enough memories that kept her tossing at night without needing more. Had her dream been a simple nightmare, it would be far more reassuring. If it was indeed his memory, then she had witnessed Rowland murder someone in those very tunnels. That might explain his interest in what she had seen?

"You mean when you die," she clarified. "I just told you. I know how this works; let's not skirt around the issue."

"Yes," he nodded. "Everything has an end. Even our kind."

He stood up from his stone chair, walking circularly around the room. "The major portion of our job as Alpha is to make sure that the members of this family stay safe. Keeping them safe and hidden will ensure the safety of the world around us. Our energy as Alphas must command respect and convey a hierarchy for the rest to follow. As the years pass, there comes a time when it is no longer appropriate nor healthy for one wolf to carry that burden."

"Actually," Devon said. "There's something that's been on my mind. Why didn't you change Derrick here, at the house? Why did it happen in his condo?"

Rowland seemed surprised at her question, pondering over it for a moment. He approached Devon, stopping directly before her as though he felt it disrespectful speaking of Derrick from across the room.

"As you know, in life not everything goes to plan," he said. "It's not uncommon for Betas to get cold feet — they cannot imagine themselves becoming someone so different, embodying that leadership."

"Did Derrick change his mind?"

"I confess, I'm not entirely sure what happened. What I can tell you is that the severing of his relationship with you, however false, was extremely tough for him to shoulder. He called without an explanation, just said that he couldn't make it to the house. We agreed to meet at his condo since I was already downtown looking for him. Not having an Alpha present during the full moon is not an ideal situation. The wolves become _aggressive._

Why didn't you track him with a bracelet? She asked.

He didn't want to wear one, said it would draw too many questions from you. Something about jewelry not being his style.

She laughed, "He knew me well."

"When I arrived, he told me that he still wanted the change. There was very little time; it was all done quite quickly."

"Did _you_ have second thoughts when you were turned?"

"None. There was nothing left holding me to my old life. I lost my wife and child to sickness the previous winter."

"Nothing? Weren't you afraid?" She questioned further.

"Of course, I was afraid. It was a time in history where people were religiously driven. After seeing people turn into wolves with my own eyes, it was still a hard reality to accept. You have to remember, back then, people believed in werewolves. They even hunted them. Not real werewolves, of course, they killed humans believing them to be werewolves. I couldn't help but question if I was entering a pact with the devil. If I still had my wife and child, my beliefs would have kept me from joining, but when a child dies in your arms, it's natural to dispute the existence of the divine."

As he explained his beginnings as pack Alpha, Devon was struck with an awareness of how little she knew about him. Between his absence and her own personal venom, there wasn't a lot of time to reflect on Rowland's humanity. She supposed she had never tried asking in the belief that he wouldn't be willing to answer. So far, he had been so shut off with her; this sudden forthcoming nature socked her.

"Would you have let him go if he'd decided he didn't want it?" she asked.

His answer was an unequivocal no. "The future of this family is and always will be the focus of my actions. After centuries of being a father to this pack, _they_ are all that matters."

_And just like that, he's back,_ she thought. There was the Rowland she recognized.

"The full moon is not going to be as complicated for you," he went on. "Some full moons are unpredictable, depending on the closeness of the moon to the earth."

It enraged her to think Derrick would have been given no choice even if he _had_ wanted to back out. In that sense, it seemed his situation had more closely resembled her own than she had understood. Although that realization should have inspired a renewed sense of closeness to him, she was still conflicted over her feelings towards her past love. He had lied and hidden so much from her while they were together. She knew it was supposed to have been for her protection, but somehow that did nothing to alleviate the hurt. Lies between two people who loved each other were still lies; no matter what prompted them.

There was a growing admiration towards Rowland for his dedication in protecting the people she was growing close with. Aside from the sense of debt she felt towards Jenn for the risk she had taken on her behalf, her fondness for Sophia and Travis would leave her without hesitation to place their life ahead of her own.

"If you're worried, don't be," Rowland said. "Until my passing, I will be there to help guide you through these moons. After that, you will be on your own."

"So, what happens?"

He looked at her blankly.

She attempted to make the statement clearer. "I mean, what actually happens? Is there a ritual, or a party or something?"

"Ah, yes," he said, smiling with comprehension. Do you want to go over this right now?

"No time like the present," she responded.

"We can touch on it now and go over it again later in more detail. So, when we start, the two of us will be here in the middle of the council room, robed, and the Druid will be _there_ ," he pointed, "by the throne chanting a protection spell that will eventually surround the house." He moved his hands through the air, illustrating the proceedings as he described them. "All of the family will enter and pass between us, circling the room twice before heading down the passageway to the tunnel entrance. We will follow closely behind until we get to the gate. Once everyone has climbed down into the shaft, we shall seal them in. After that, we will return to the middle of the floor, where everyone will disrobe in preparation for the change."

He raised a finger, indicating that what he was about to say was of great importance. "It is not a simple matter to watch the other members of the pack change. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have stood by observing for several moons as Derrick did. During these visits, you would have seen that for us Alphas, our DNA is more substantial, and so are we. We don't feel the pain as the others do. You had experienced this yourself a few time when your hands changed.

"I wouldn't call that a walk in the park," she reminded him.

"It was uncomfortable, yes, but the others will scream and cry out. Even the children. Mercifully, it only lasts a few minutes. After that, our energy will dictate the behavior of the other wolves when they change. You must spend time training your mind, and so, more in-depth meditation training will begin tomorrow night, here."

"Of course it would be here," she said. "Where else would it be?"

"Yes, that's what I meant," he clarified.

"So what happens next after we change?"

"After we have all changed, the Druid will return to his living quarters for the duration of the moon. He has personal ceremonies that he must attend to."

"But, wait," she interjected. "When does he change, then? I thought only Alphas could control their change."

"Devon," he said, as though the answer should have been self-evident. "The Druid is not a werewolf."

This came as a shock. "Then, what is he?"

"I guess you could say that he is an immortal, the only one of us who cannot be killed. As long as we live or even one of our family remains, then so does he. The Druid serves as the custodian of our pack and our spiritual guide."

"The _Druid_? The _Smith_?" she laughed with a touch of exasperation. "They must have real names?"

"Do they need anything more?" he countered. "They have had other names in the past, or 'real names' as you choose to call them. But they do not exist on paper, and what names they once were called are no longer used in the English spoken today. These are the name's they prefer, and it is up to us to respect that."

"You're telling me they don't exist?" she asked. "How do they live or travel?"

"Devon, they are over two thousand years old, part of the original four," he said gently. "Both men stood around the stone alter the night our Gods bestowed their gifts. In their long lives, they have seen everything, and they yearn for the simple ways, the old ways."

"Well, I can believe that of the Druid, but Smith certainly doesn't seem to have matured much in that time."

"His anger may offend you, but believe me when I tell you that it is not misplaced. What has been taken from him by the other family can never be compensated without revenge. I wish I could allow him to take it, but a war would end badly for all of us. As for you," he added patiently, "change is more difficult the older you become. Smith didn't trust me when I first became alpha, give him time, and he will warm up to you."

It was hard to comprehend what life would be like after having lived so long and seen as much as Smith and the Druid had. To think that with all they _had_ seen, she was still something entirely new to them. Being something that inspired a sense of fear in Smith, was hardest to comprehend of all.

"You should get ready," Rowland said. "The twins will be here around five o'clock to take you into town."

She nodded, looking forward to a change of clothes and possibly one more shower for good measure. Before turning to leave, she stopped, sniffing the air. "Someone's coming?" she stated.

The front doors opened, and in seconds, John entered the room; carrying with him the scent of the cold outdoors. "Sorry I'm a bit early, but I'm needed at the station. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked, sparing no more than a glance Devon's way.

Rowland stiffened almost imperceptibly, hesitating a moment before shaking his head. "No, Devon was just about to get ready."

Just as he was starting to open up to her, she was shut out. His second dismissal told her that he had been planning on her having already gone before John arrived on whatever purpose had brought him here. How could she not to be frustrated with his constant secrecy? It had always felt that he was purposefully keeping something from her, and this time she had caught him.

Smiling politely, John finally glanced her way, though he lacked his usual talkative nature. No doubt he was in for a lecture over not having timed his arrival more conveniently. She watched the two men disappear behind the tapestry, feeling slighted over Rowland's inability to include her.

It was true; there hadn't been much opportunity to spend time with David and Eddie. As much as it annoyed Devon to have Rowland rearranging her schedule, she was looking forward to a pleasant evening in the company of the twins. She had spent the better part of weeks penned up in the house doing nothing but training, and now she was on the second night out in a row. Keryn made a passing joke via a text message that Devon was receiving record-breaking generosity on Rowland's part.

The twins had been fairly entertaining so far, from what she _had_ seen of them. As much as they were outwardly identical, their personalities weren't anything alike: Eddie was direct, even crass at times, whereas David was far more reserved. Still tired from her whirlwind trip with Jesse, Devon decided to trust their judgment, allowing them to surprise her with their choice of restaurant.

When she saw the oyster bar they were heading for, she felt a sudden sadness beginning to manifest before quickly snuffing it out.

"You okay?" David asked, responding to her sudden shift in mood.

"Yeah," she said, attempting to shrug it away. "It's just this is where Derrick and I used to go for our special dates."

Eddie slapped his brother on the back of the head. "I told you it was too fancy!"

She had to laugh, hearing this particular spot referred to as fancy. "It's okay," she said. "I mean, I'm okay, we can go in. There really isn't anywhere in this city that won't have any connection to my old life. Unless I plan on moving entirely, now is as good a time as any to start creating new memories."

Inside the dimly lit bar, David surprised both of them by taking the lead when he ordered a bottle of red wine with roasted garlic bulbs for an appetizer. While Eddie predictably settled on a sleeve of beer instead.

"So how's the training going?" David asked.

"Well, for the most part, I've been working with Connor," she said. "Rowland's still very distant. I've found out more about werewolves from other members of the family than I have him."

Having spoken thus far, she wondered how frank she could afford to be regarding her difficulties with Rowland in front of the twins. After a moment's thought, she decided there was nothing she might say to them that she wouldn't be willing to tell Rowland directly.

Eddie laughed, taking another long swig from his beer glass. "Oh, family! They can drive you mad, but that's what family is all about, right? Besides, cut the guy a bit of slack, finding loopholes to keep you away from Orin isn't easy. Not to mention keeping the media and all the heat surrounding your death away from the family."

David ran his hands wearily over his face. "What my brother and his big mouth are trying to explain is that your death couldn't have come at a more unfortunate time."

"Sorry for inconveniencing all of you," she said testily.

Eddie laughed across the table. "Now who put their foot in whose mouth?"

She immediately felt a touch of regret, feeling how uncomfortable David was with the way the conversation had turned.

Rather than having his course derailed by his brother's disapproval, Eddie elbowed David playfully, leaning into the table. He looked around the bar, making sure there were no listeners nearby. "If you must know," he began, whispering conspiratorially, "a few days after the police found your body, a pair of hikers also found a section of a woman's body. All of it has been kept out of the paper, but John's found out through the station. They thought it was one of the missing girls from last summer."

"And?" she asked, not sure she was as excited over this news as he seemed to be.

" _And_ ," he emphasized, "They're trying to make a connection between _your_ body and the missing girls."

"Wait," she said. "You mean the Goldstream murders?"

"Pretty much," David joined in, pulling his brother back from the table's edge. "It was getting close to becoming an unsolved case without any new girls missing since the summer, and no leads. It's unfortunate what happened to them, but any kind of missing person's case brings a risk to the family that we really can't afford."

Devon was beginning to feel as though the conversation had moved entirely ahead of her. "Sorry, but I'm not getting something here. How would missing people be a problem for the family?"

The twins turned to each other with looks of surprise, both of them seeking to verify by each other's face what he had just heard.

Eddie looked to her with a cautious half-smile, beginning to laugh; the smile soon faded as he realized she wasn't joining in. The laughter in his eyes turned to bewilderment. "You're messing with us, right? As if you don't know why missing people- hey!"

He turned to his brother in disbelief. "Why are you kicking me? What did I do now?" With another look at Devon's perplexed face, he began to nod. "Right, yeah... I'm going to use the washroom, be right back." He stood up from the table, leaving his brother to explain what he'd been trying to say.

"Um," David began softly, "obviously Rowland hasn't explained to you about the Govannon tribute? Work keeps us both pretty busy, and we haven't been updated on where your training is at so far."

"I told you, Rowland doesn't tell me much of anything," she said.

He bit his lip, frowning. "Look, Devon. We'd like too, but without permission, we can't go into those details of what Rowland hasn't explained himself. I'm sure certain things will be made clear to you at the right time and place."

As she had already told them, most information about wolf life had been passed on to her by anyone other than Rowland. Still, she understood that if the twins said they weren't at liberty to tell her something, they weren't lying.

"Fine," she sighed, her mouth drawn tight in a thin line.

Eddie returned to the table, trading meaningful looks with his brother.

"She doesn't know," David said.

"Oh. That's awkward. So, do _we_?"

"No, Rowland has to. I've explained that much," David answered.

Devon set her wineglass down irritably, spilling Merlot down the back of her hand. "Listen, guys," she said, licking her fingers, "it's okay. This isn't the first time something like this has come up this week. Do me a favor and save the whole Rowland is great guy speech. I've already heard it from everyone else in the family. I'm sure he's got his good points, but from my point of view he's a politician, not a diplomat."

Eddie laughed. "That's actually a good way of putting it."

She pointed at him. "Actually," she said, "Since tact isn't exactly your strong point, I'll ask you. What you _can_ tell me is what exactly happened to Keryn's mother?" The twins glanced at each other in a way Devon was beginning to see was habitual for them in moments of uncertainty or shock. She was curious to discover if they did the same thing while in wolf form.

David nodded to indicate that this subject, at least, wasn't off-topic. "Elise," he said, running his finger along his lower lip thoughtfully. "I'm not sure where to start. Well, first off, Elise was strong."

"Of course, she was, you'd have to be to put up with Smith," Eddie chimed in.

"Not just strong, though. She was so beautiful, like Keryn."

Even if she hadn't been able to read the sudden shift in David's energy, Devon could tell he was harboring a crush by the way he blushed while saying Keryn's name.

Eddie cleared his throat, smirking. "Well, before my brother burst into song here, what he was surely going to say is that a rogue werewolf killed Elise."

" _Rogue_?" she asked.

"It's a term used mostly in agriculture," David explained. "It means a diseased or abnormal plant that must be separated from the rest of the crop. We use the same term to describe wolves that weren't created from birth or the bite of an Alpha."

"Thank you, Mister Dictionary," Eddie laughed, giving his brother's shoulder a shove. He reached across the table, demonstratively with his fingers curved like claws. "These are the types of werewolves that you see in horror movies. They're rabid and broken, and they want nothing more than to rip your fucking head off. No empathy and a ton of blood lust."

"So, like a sociopathic werewolf?" Devon couldn't help but sound somewhat skeptical. Everyone in the family went to such lengths in ensuring she knew they weren't merely dangerous animals, and now Eddie was telling her that sometimes, they were precisely that.

"My way sounds better," Eddie said, "but sure."

David sat quietly listening, beginning to shake his head after his brother's last statement. "Actually, you're both wrong," he said. "Sociopathic refers to antisocial behavior or antisocial personality disorder."

Devon and Eddie both stared, caught between amusement and mild disbelief.

He carried on, oblivious. "Psychotic," he said, "now, that would be the appropriate term."

"As interesting as that may be, David," Devon said, "picking apart our terms is hardly the point here. What I want to know is, who would make this kind of psychotic wolf in the first place?"

"That should be pretty obvious. It's someone across the water," was Eddie's immediate answer.

"Orin's family?"

He shrugged. "We're the only two families that exist, Devon. It had to be them. The rest of us all change in front of each other, and we keep our transformations contained. We wouldn't have the opportunity even if we wanted to, and besides, it's fucking vile."

This was Eddie's first moment of genuine seriousness Devon had seen, and she had to agree. If this were true, there was no excusing or forgiving such detrimental recklessness.

For Eddie, it seemed that this subject was like opening a vein. "Who would destroy someone's life like that?" he asked, his voice rising above the restaurant's busy noise.

He glanced around, lowering his voice at the touch of David's hand on his shoulder. "It's not just the wolf that's rabid. The person empathy and kindness also fall away, and the two together become equally as twisted, like...like, Mr. Hyde and Mr. Hyde."

There was a lull in the conversation as their waiter returned to the table. Each of the party placed their orders, smiling politely, giving no sign of the intensity of the moment he had interrupted. Devon thought how odd it was that the cheerful young man serving them was unaware he was in the presence of werewolves in the midst of discussing sinister variations of their kind. She had been exactly like him only a month ago, oblivious to the things that went on in the city in which she lived and worked.

Once the waiter was gone, she resumed their conversation, impatient to have the answer to her question. "How did her mum die, then?"

"They're stronger than us, these rogue wolves," David said, "and without any fear of death. When you take that away from an animal, well...let's say that it's a force to be reckoned with. A whole team is needed to take them out, and we have to wait until the full moon to kill them. By wearing the armor, it helps certain parts of our bodies from transforming while we're hunting.

"The gauntlets," she interjected.

"Precisely! If we allow our brains to change, then we'd be animals ourselves. Elise died on the mainland while tracking that thing."

"You were there?"

Eddie nodded gravely.

"I wasn't," David said with regret.

With a glance of sympathy, Eddie continued. "It had left a bloody trail from Seattle to Vancouver. We finally tracked it in Stanley Park, trying to drive it towards the water, away from the city. The police had received a call about a dead body that had been found, claiming it was a mad bear on the loose."

"A bear?"

"It could happen," he said. "The human mind is fragile; if a person saw a werewolf, their minds would come up with some other way to explain it. Anyway," he waved his hand, "eventually we had it pinned close to the underside of the Lion's Gate Bridge when the police came around the side of the sea wall. The bastards didn't even give a warning; they just opened fire on all of us. They managed to hit the rogue wolf, allowing Rowland to take it out. But one of the bullets..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "One of the bullets hit Elise in the back of the head. Because of the armor, she couldn't change fully over into her wolf. She wasn't conscious, and we didn't have the Druid with us; one of several mistakes we made."

Throughout the telling of his tale, he had become considerably shaken, and David took over for him. "The pack hid deeper in the park, using energy to repel police dogs and search teams until they could make a break for the marina."

Eddie suddenly slammed his hand against the tabletop, spitting out his words through gritted teeth. "She didn't have to die! If those animals could have kept their fucking house clean...dirty inbred pieces of shit, every one of them." His voice had risen again, this time loudly enough for the surrounding tables to take notice. Knowing he couldn't afford to cause a scene, he finished the rest of his beer in one swallow, leaving the table to step outside.

In his absence, they sat in silence for a long moment. Devon didn't know what to say, struck speechless by the emotional turn their outing had taken. _No wonder Smith hates the Seattle pack so much_ , she thought, unable to blame him for his anger in the slightest.

"I'm so sorry," she said, breaking the silence. "I had no idea, or else I wouldn't have asked."

"It's all right. You're just getting a taste of what Orin's family is capable of."

"They knew?" she asked, amazed.

"Well, Orin denied knowing anything about it, like he always has."

She was doubly shocked. "Always has?"

"Well," he paused, seeming unsettled by what he was forced to admit. "It wasn't the first time; let's put it that way. He always blames it on someone further down the social hierarchy."

"And that time?" she asked. "What happened to the person who was accused?"

"Like always, executed. Without trial or remorse. Everyone except Orin's son and his wife is disposable in that family, outside of Orin himself."

"Is there any chance he didn't know?" She wanted there to be some way, however slim, that things weren't so grim in Seattle as the twins made it out to be. Orin wasn't a perfect person or leader by far, but was he capable of this level of recklessness? Devon was new to this family, and so much was hidden from her, she found it impossible to know who to believe.

"They knew." David, at least, was confident. "Rowland is also pretty sure it's still happening, only now they're just careful not to get caught. We haven't been able to prove anything without getting ourselves on their radar in a bad way. We had a feeling that we were dealing with a recurrence when the Goldstream killings started happening last year until they stopped." He shrugged. "Well, it stopped until now. The latest body part isn't from any of the other missing girls, and it narrows down the time of death to the last month or so."

"So it's a rogue wolf?"

"Doubtful, but I mean, who knows? We don't know all that much about how they behave long term since we've never left one alive long enough. The killings shouldn't have stopped if it was a rogue, I couldn't see one fighting the urge for that long."

Devon asked herself if Siobhan might be a part of this. Perhaps she could see Orin having some involvement or at least an awareness of what went on without bothering to keep it under control. Somehow she suspected this was something he would hide from Siobhan if he did know about it. Lexi hadn't even been created when the killings started, so there was no chance it had anything to do with _her_. But, she wondered, did Kaden know of it? Or was he as innocent as she had witnessed last night? He could be in the same boat as her: lined up to be the next leader while being sheltered from knowing anything the current Alpha didn't want him to know. Devon wished she could have spent more time with Kaden and was anxious to learn when she might get another opportunity before the end of her three months of training.

By now, David had gone outside to fetch his brother. The rest of the meal was spent listening to Eddie's attempts to regale her with embarrassing tales of his brother. Some of his stories dated as far back as eighteen-hundreds. It was fascinating to learn that the twins had sailed from San Francisco to British Columbia in the hope of claiming their fortune during the gold rush. They hadn't found riches, but what they had found was Rowland, newly arrived from England by way of the Hudson's Bay Company. It was surreal, trying to picture people she knew living and working in such a remote time and place, as though they were telling stories of their great grandparents rather than themselves.

After dinner, the twins asked Devon if they could stop at their apartment, which happened to be only a few blocks away from where Derrick had lived. Even though Devon wanted to wait in the car, they insisted she come up with them to see the view from their fourteenth-floor apartment. David made a compelling case, saying that during the era of their birth, living at such a height was unheard. Seeing that it was something they were rather proud of, she agreed to join them.

When they reached the fourteenth floor, there was a unique quality to the energy in the air that stopped her. She was suddenly suspicious of their reason for bringing her here. "Can you two feel that?" she asked.

"I don't feel anything," Eddie said, pushing her playfully towards the end of the hall. As they drew nearer the apartment, she began to recognize different scents steadily growing stronger. A broad smile formed in anticipation while David unlocked the door.

"After you," Eddie said.

As he pushed it open, Sophia was instantly there, running forward to leap up into her arms, laughing.

"Welcome home!" she cried, hugging Devon's neck tightly. In the living room behind her stood Keryn and Jenn, holding a banner emblazoned with the same words. Rowland was there as well, standing in the middle of the room, bearing a smile that for once withheld nothing.

He was next to approach her, placing his hand on Devon's shoulder. "I thought you could use a place to call your own," he said. "Trust must be given in order to be earned — I lost sight of that over the past week."

A pang of guilt hit her hard as he talked about trust. A few hours ago she lied directly to his face about going to Seattle with Jesse. Only to find out about the other families misdeeds made Rowland's sheltering feel like protection instead of control.

He ran his fingers through Sophia's beautiful red hair, making her giggle as she squirmed down back to the floor. "We can speak more about it after you've taken a look around. I will meet you out on the balcony when you're ready."

"I get my _own_ place?" she asked, feeling as though she were the guest on a reality TV show.

Jesse swung around in a low swivel chair beside her, grinning. "We all have our own flats, and it's only fair you should have one as well."

She looked around at the few pieces of tastefully modern furniture arranged around the room. "I take it you were in charge of the decor?" she asked.

He raised his glass in a toast. "Anything for you, love."

"Where's Connor?" She didn't trouble to ask about Smith, unsurprised to see he had chosen to miss out on the well-wishing.

As she spoke his name, the washroom door opened to her right, and Connor stepped out. Even though he was smiling, the sight of her changed something in his demeanor; catching her off guard. There was a polite distance that wasn't previously there. As she had done throughout the previous week, Devon leaned in towards him, expecting an embrace. Instead, he pulled slightly away, patting her back like a sportsman acknowledging his teammate for a game well played.

"Congratulations on the new apartment," he said. "Unfortunately, I can't stay. I have much to do back at the house, and I don't want to keep the Druid waiting alone for long."

He waved a quick farewell to everyone, slipping out the door before she could even speak.

Jesse had been watching the exchange, now looking to Devon with a frown of confusion. "Um, that was probably the most awkward moment of Connor weirdness I've ever witnessed," he said.

"That makes two of us." She shrugged. Although she wasn't sure what his problem was, there would be time to deal with Connor later. Right now, she was more interested in what Rowland had to say, knowing he was waiting outside for her.

With a few more hellos and some words of thanks, she excused herself. As the door slid open, the high wind carried the crisp smell of the nearby ocean. The smile from earlier was replaced by a more solemn look as he stood at the balcony's edge, looking out over the darkened park.

"So trust has to be given to be received?" she asked, hoping he was sincere in what he had said.

"Certain subjects are not easy for me to talk about, even after a few hundred years. When my son died, he was less than a year old," he began. "I didn't have any other children outside of the people you see in that room behind you, and most of them came to me already grown." He paused, deeply breathing the chill air. "I don't know how to raise a daughter."

For the first time, it occurred that he wasn't merely struggling with an inability to trust her; he was searching to regain his trust in himself.

"I placed all of my plans for the future on Derrick's shoulder and lost him. Without asking, and without fault of your own, creating you put this pack in jeopardy. It's not fair, I know this, but the last of our hopes rest now on your shoulders. Devon you're someone I hardly know, and I have very little time to teach you everything needed to prepare you for what lies ahead. Whatever comes to pass is because of my actions and my decisions.

"I don't need a father, Rowland. I need guidance," she said

"You are very independent, and I understand how much space and solitude can be worth to someone like yourself. We are very much alike in that sense. But none of this is without its own rules and boundaries."

She smiled, looking up into the stars. "Nothing ever is."

"During the weekdays, you will spend the evenings and nights at the house, training as always. That being said, if you feel compelled during those days, you are free to come here. This place is for the weekends, for you to come and go from the house and have your own space." He sighed, a little of the weight seemed to left him. "I know I can trust you, Devon. I have to trust you; there is no one else."

That brief pang of guilt returned, thinking of her night in Seattle and her visit to her father in Vancouver. She reminded herself that Rowland wasn't entirely truthful with her as well, considering whatever it was the twins had nearly told her tonight. Agreeing with his terms, she was relieved at the thought of how this new arrangement would make future opportunities to visit the mainland that much easier.

From his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys along with a credit card, before handing them to her.

She looked down at the card, reading the name. "Diana Jean Ripley? Jesse picked this out, didn't he?

"How did you know? He asked.

"You don't strike me as a pop-culture kind of guy, that's all."

Be that as it may, if anyone outside of the family asks, that is now your name," he explained.

"Okay, and how about the keys? There's way too many on this key chain for just the apartment."

"The larger ones are a set of car keys," he said. "How else would you get back and forth to the house? And before you say anything, Jesse will have a driver's license and birth certificate for you later this week. Also, you should know that you are officially eighteen again."

"Why eighteen?"

"It gives you a longer period of time before a new identity is needed. Now, the card has no limit, but please keep it only to the necessities: food, clothing, and anything missing around your apartment. Unlike other family members, you won't have time to look for a job with everything going on. Don't worry about rent; it's paid up until May."

"Thank you, Rowland, this means a lot to me."

He raised his glass. "To your new place! Sorry, I just noticed you don't have your own drink to toast with," he noted. "Let me find you one."

It would have been just as easy for her to get her own drink. Instead, she thanked him, choosing to stay outside and enjoy a minute to process her newfound freedom.

A moment passed as she stood watching the tiny ripples, shivering across the surface of the pond before the door slid open. From her scent, she knew who had come to join her without having to turn around.

"I guess I have you to thank for all this," she said, smiling into the darkness.

Jenn laughed. "Who, me? What makes you say that?"

Devon looked at her skeptically.

"Maybe a smidge," Jenn confessed. "Truthfully, it was more of a team effort. Keryn told me about your getaway to Jesse's for the weekend, and how much they had you on lockdown. Werewolf of not, you have to admit, every girl needs a bit of space from the male species."

"So this wasn't Rowland's idea, then?" She wasn't sure why it mattered to her, knowing only that it did.

"Well, maybe not at first. Rowland came to me after you left with Jesse, wanting my advice. But let's just say that by the end of our conversation, it was his idea."

Jenn must have read the disappointment in her face. "Come on, he's a three-hundred-year-old man, and you're a twenty-one-year-old girl. He's trying, give him at least that much."

"I need him to stop trying and just be honest with me," she said. Jenn cocked her head with a concerned frown. "What hasn't he been honest about?"

She sighed heavily. "Okay, maybe honest wasn't the right word, but I at least need Rowland to be forthcoming with me about things rather than having to find stuff out all the time from other family members."

"Like?"

"Well," she said, "how about the Govannon tribute? What's so important that the twins couldn't tell me themselves?"

"You have only had a week to adjust to all of this," Jenn answered. "You're plate is pretty full and one thing at a time, right? I know you're tough, but that has nothing to do with it. Let's try to get you through your first full moon and then I'm sure he'll want to talk about it."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Devon said in a sarcastic tone.

"Look, I'll make you a deal," Jenn offered. "If he doesn't talk to you about it, then I will."

With that, she knew there weren't going to be any answers until after the full moon had passed. At least this way she could trust Jenn to hold her end of a bargain rather than relying on Rowland. "Okay, deal," she said, finally breaking a smile.

"Good! Now," Jenn slid the door back open. "Come in and check out your new digs, have a drink, and enjoy yourself."

Even though the evening didn't last long, she did enjoy her time. It was already well past the children's bedtime when she arrived, so Jenn and John were the first to go. An hour later, Keryn and Rowland were the next to leave. Keryn would have preferred to stay longer, but she was Rowland's ride back to the house. In the end, she was left nursing a glass of wine alone with Jesse, the two of them curled at opposite ends of the wide leather couch.

"Just when I think I have a grip on what to expect from this new existence...something else comes up," she said, looking across at him. "Some new bit of information to suggest there's more to come."

"Takes two to tango," he answered. "You're a whole new concept for all of us. Who knew you could teach an old dog new tricks?"

"I guess this does make things easier for us."

"No duff, Mugruff." He grinned.

"Jesus, you're old." She giggled, followed by his laughter.

"You are right, though. This is a perfect set up for getting us over to Seattle without all the hassle."

Staring into her glass of wine, she swirled it slowly. "I don't know how I feel about going there after what I learned tonight from the twins."

He quirked his brow, curious.

"They told me what happened to Elise."

"Oh...that. Look, no one's claiming that Orin and his pack are perfect," he said, flipping an unlit cigarette between his fingers. "They've shed blood, we've shed blood, and we don't make excuses for it. We _are_ monsters. If you look at it as a whole compared with the human race, they will always pale in comparison to what we are."

"You're trying to justify murder," she stated bluntly.

"No, _murder_ is the thousands of men and women killed in violent hate crimes every year at the hands of humans." His lip curled in distaste. "They use fear as an excuse to keep living in ignorance, and they're the ones who try to justify murder. Elise was kind and compassionate, but even she had blood on her hands."

He stood up, opening the balcony door in preparation for his cigarette.

"There's no blood on my hands," she told him before he stepped outside.

"Not _yet,_ " he smiled.

Chapter Fifteen

DOWN RIGHT DIFFERENT

"This is never going to work."

"Perhaps if you were silent, it would work."

"But it feels weird and I'm also not used to bending this way."

As she opened her left eye, Devon peeked across at Rowland, only to find him staring back with distinct annoyance. Aside from the look he gave, he was the image of calm, sitting in the lotus position, the backs of his hands resting gently against his abdomen.

"Don't expect to find inner peace in the first few days," he said. "Your control over your changing abilities has been nothing short of amazing, but the mind is something that takes years of constant dedication."

Instead of remaining seated, she rolled up, retrieving the sword she had been practicing with the night before. As she tapped the blade against the palm of her hand, she felt the sting of a sharp pinch. Startled, she pulled her hand away to notice that the sword had left a shallow cut across her skin. A sweet tang of iron tickled her nose. "I'm bleeding?" she said, shocked. Maybe it was the past memories influencing her, but it was unusual how quickly she'd become accustomed to her invulnerability.

"Don't be alarmed, our molting cycle has started," he answered, remaining upon the ground. "Your skin is starting to weaken in preparation for tomorrow night. Continuing your fight training at this point would be ill-advised."

"Your concern is appreciated, but that goes against everything I've been taught. I thought I was supposed to train as if I _were_ vulnerable?"

"You _are_ ," he stated cautiously, "however you are not yet ready. One wrong slip or miscalculation and we are short an Alpha. If you are ready on the next full moon, we will fight without holding back."

More than content to wait, she nodded. As reluctant as she was to admit, the damage this caliber of weaponry could inflict genuinely frightened her. Goosebumps raised along her neck, as she imagined how the Blades of Calanedh would feel if they sliced into her.

"Since there is no need to fight, let's try again," Rowland instructed. "There is also a meditation center here in Sooke that you could go to if you would feel more comfortable? Connor is a part of the local Sangha."

"Sangha?"

"A Sangha," he explained, "is a community of monks, nuns, and students."

"And _Connor_ is part of one? The guy who loves to shoot guns and play with swords?"

He laughed. "It would be best if you ask Connor to explain how he rationalizes it."

"I can do this." This time she took a seat next to him, hoping to avoid being caught peeking. "I would, except for the fact that since my house warming party last week he's barely said two whole words to me."

He answered with a typically vague remark. "Tomorrow night begins a new chapter and uncertain changes for everyone. For now, I need you to try focusing on your breathing. Meditation plays an essential part in sustaining your sanity for hundreds of years. Are there not memories from your past that continue to haunt you?"

Devon was sure he already knew the answer. Still, she nodded.

"Well," he said, "that's only twenty-one years of life. Imagine three hundred and fifty-one years, along with shouldering the memories of every previous Alpha inside your mind. Learning to quiet our past and stay focused on the present is vital. We are not perfect beings, Devon. Alphas in the past have had their share of mistakes and torments. They have made choices that you or I may consider intolerable. We have adapted, striving to better ourselves in order to let go of temptations and the need for power. Those delusions of the ego almost destroyed our way of life."

"Let me ask you something," she said. "You're three hundred something years old-"

"Three hundred and fifty-one." He corrected her.

"Okay, three hundred and fifty-one, then. How's that all working out for you? I mean the things that haunt you - have they gone away?"

"Three hundred or two thousand, it is still something you must work at every day," he said.

"I'm still a bit confused. You have a Druid, but you're practicing Buddhism. Wouldn't that also make you a Buddhists?"

"I think you are avoiding your practice, and no, we're not Buddhists," he said patiently. "We will always worship the old Gods of our Dumnonii ancestors. Our Gods will forever live on through our devotion, ceremonies, and gratitude for the gifts they gave us. But we cannot deny other religions or claim them as false. We are fortunate enough to have more than faith to live by since we have seen some of our Gods. Just like humans we survived for hundreds of years on just faith. Thankfully our God's were entwined with nature and the changing of the seasons. We physically saw the results of our devotion. Buddhism does not revolve around faith since it is the investigation of one's self. You will learn that Buddha was a man, not a god, and even he didn't deny that gods or demons might exist. They are simply a different class of beings. Also," he added, "Buddha's teachings of the mind and the self-have helped us to evolve. There is no conflict in this, nor have we seen any signs of displeasure from our Gods."

"Well you did tell me he was immortal," she reminded him.

"As a human's life span is to an insect's", he said. "Everything is based on perception. To mortals, the Druid would seem god-like or immortal. Especially with his ability to cheat death and perform feats of unexplainable magic. I can tell by the look on your face that I should have clarified that more, The Druid is immortal as long as one of us lives. There will come a day when the existence of wolves will come to a close, and then, even his life will end. When that happens, our Gods will have had their time upon this earth."

Remembering Keryn's words down in the tunnels, she thought of Rowland's claim that the Gods had shown themselves to the original wolves. If werewolves could exist, then she couldn't unequivocally claim that other Gods couldn't either. Life was unkind in the early years of her past. Too many painful truths that birthed a decision to avoid religion, feeling that any deity out there couldn't possibly care much for her- nor _she_ for _it._ But this idea of Buddha, she supposed that anything able to help ease her mind would be worth trying.

By this point, the blood from her hand had dripped down to the floor; marking the whorls of bronze a deeper shade of red.

Rowland pointed at the spot. "I'd like you to go see the Druid instead of continuing."

"Why," she asked. "It's just a bit of blood. I could just gauntlet up and change it back and forth.

"Being vulnerable is part of this natural process and should be respected. That cut is a reminder of how delicate our human side can be. At the same time, no one needs an infection."

When considering Rowland's three hundred and fifty-one years of his life, it seemed as though his position as Alpha forced him into building a modern exterior despite his rugged demeanor. The Druid was different as if his appearance and nature had been allowed to remain unchanged through time. Since her arrival at the house, she had been avoiding the Druid. He was reserved, bearing something in his eyes that made her feel exposed, as though it would be impossible to shield any secret.

The Druid was over two thousand years old, basically immortal, and a powerful magician. She constantly wondered what sort of topics she could discuss without boring him. What deterred her most was how unreadable he seemed, that and his predisposition for past and future visions. These premonitions troubled her; with them he could expose the trips to the mainland.

"Actually," she said, as though hoping to hide behind the frail excuse, "I don't even know where in the house he lives."

Rowland smiled, seeing through to her reluctance. "I found him rather intimidating when I first joined the family as well."

It was embarrassing to be so easily read, but this once, she didn't bother denying her cowardice.

"He lives beyond the library on the second level. There is a large floor to ceiling oak panel which spans about 4 feet across the back wall. I'm not sure if you've noticed it as you've explored the house."

She nodded, knowing the spot well. Devon had spent many a sleepless night curled up on the large leather couches, pouring over books she'd never seen before. It was the room in which she had caught her first glance of the Druid, staring out through the window as she made her escape.

"How does one live beyond the library?" She asked.

"Simply walk through the panel, and you will find him. Either that or sit here and meditate with me for a few more hours until dinner? It's customary to have a large feast the night before a full moon, in celebration."

"I think I'll go see the Druid," she decided. She would either have to fight her fears by facing them or spend the next few hours attempting to calm them.

"Hello?" her call echoed from the entrance of the library doors. Maybe the Druid was why she usually found the space empty. _Are other family members as skittish around him for the same reasons as I am?_ She contemplated as she walked through the middle of the room, dancing her fingers across the keys of the old baby grand. _Or was it purely out of respect?_

__ For several minutes, she studied the panel along the wall, wondering about the instruction Rowland had given her. _Simply, walk through it. Simply walk through a wall? Are you kidding me? There is nothing simple about that._

Unable to find any hidden latch along the side of the panel's carvings, she figured it might be similar to the tapestry entrance in the council room. With both her hands held out, Devon pressed forth; finding no resistance ahead. Thankfully her body's reflexes stopped her from nearly falling forward but not before her arms passed straight through; vanishing before her. The oak panel was illusory, just like a hologram. Just beyond the illusion, a cold breeze passed over her hands in the unseen space. With an uncertain breath, she walked onward, immersing herself beyond the wall of the Library.

Approaching the other side, she reached a hallway made of stone. Just as it was in the tunnels below, a row of candle flame lit the walls, flickering their pale blue glow. Judging from the length of the passage, the Druid's quarters lead far into the upper portion of the hill.

__ A piece of sad and deeply beautiful music echoed down the hall, voices falling and rising in a mournful howl, drawing her toward its source. As she neared the hall's end, she heard the melody underscored by voices softly speaking. From the different scents in the air, she could tell that he was alone.

"Do not stand in the shadows, child," he called out gently, inviting her to join him. As she rounded a corner, she came into a large open room filled with shelves containing stacks of overflowing papers and bottles. A set of large workbenches were both piled high as well, covered with bundles of herbs and various tools. One of his walls was devoted entirely to plants of every type, with a giant glowing orb hanging in the air like a miniature sun. This must be the light source that allowed the plants to grow in the absence of any natural light; the room itself was windowless and somewhat gloomy, due to being built deep into the hillside.

By the far end of the chamber the Druid remained, before delicately placing a lid upon a golden vase. Its beauty stood apart from the muted tones and clutter of the room, shining with gemstones the color of the ocean on a summer's day.

The music deepened, filling her with a longing she couldn't comprehend. She didn't recognize the language, and yet she felt it speaking to her — understanding the universal tones the voices painfully were painting.

"This music," she said. "It's beautiful. Do you know what the words mean?"

"It's a medieval song of unrequited love," he explained, as he turned away from the vase to face her. "However, you did not _finally_ visit my hollow to discuss love songs and poetry."

It was hard not to feel foolish, having him address her avoidance so directly. "I've meant to come and see you...."

"Don't concern yourself with it, child," he said. "These old eyes see enough. Come in," he ushered her forward. "Your hand is hurting."

"How did you know?" she asked, looking down at her palm.

"One becomes accustomed to the smell of blood, living amongst our kin for the majority of one's life. That, and the way you are favoring it now. Come, come."

Devon took a seat by the workbench closest to him and watched as he busied himself around his workshop.

At the wall of greenery, he sliced free a thick stem from a, particularly hearty plant. In a single motion, he slid the knife down the length of the stem and scraped its translucent jelly into a mortar at the table's edge. With a few dry ingredients from other jars sprawled about the room, he ground them together with the pestle, producing a thick paste.

With a gentle touch, he took her injured hand in his. The Druid's palm was cool and soft, and she could see all the pale blue veins beneath his translucent skin — veins that had been pumping the blood for over two thousand years. In them he took her injured hand and smoothed the paste across her cut before gently wrapping the wound with a strip of clean cloth, folding her fingers down to keep it in place.

"There you are, just hold it tightly and it will dry in a few minutes," he said, smiling faintly.

With his staff in hand, he slowly moved across the room to an old vintage radio nestled in amongst the clutter. It stood out strangely from its surroundings, as did the vase, but only for its dated ordinariness rather than any grandeur. As he stood next to it, resting his hand upon the dial, a different song poured out into the room.

"These songs from moments past may sound otherworldly to you," he said, "but they are composed of the same idea that people sang about when this machine was new and are still singing about today. They sing about love and suffering for the sake of desire." Both of his eyes shut as if he seemed to be watching the passage of time behind their fragile lids. "Buildings extend to the skies only to be torn down, regimes fall, religions rise, and still we seek to pillage undisturbed lands. Everything changes, and nothing changes. So, the song remains the same."

"It feels as though nothing will ever be the same for me," she said, reflecting on her life. It amazed her how easily she spoke from her heart after having shied away from the Druid for so long.

"Ahhh, yes...." He opened his eyes, pinning her with the same gaze that had witnessed the fall of empires. "Worry not; you feel this way because of your age," he said. "After you've experienced the span of human life, you will find solace that history is a wheel of repetitive cycles and visible differences."

"History," she echoed. "Actually, how is there so much werewolf history out there in the world, in stories and movies? I thought this family felt the truth about werewolves would throw the world into chaos, and yet the myths are common knowledge."

"Do you not feel this to be true?" he asked. "That proof of wolves would cause devastation?"

"I'm still a little on the fence about that one," she admitted.

"Truth versus fiction. We are fortunate that humans have made us into a parody over time. At the same time, you are right. The idea of humans changing into animals and back again is something that people had imagined long before we came into existence." He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Perhaps they have done this through intuition, sensing somehow that our creation was inevitable, part of the grand scheme of the Gods. In regard to stories and films, much of that mythology was created by the ones around you for survival. For a long time, we were untouched, until people, fueled by religion and fear, began using witches and wolves as an excuse for persecuting and burning their fellow neighbor. Those were the days when it grew necessary for me to use magic to hide our family."

"And how did you do that?" she asked, fascinated.

"Like this." Her own voice called out from the corner of the room. Pivoting, she turned sharply, as she encountered the illusion of herself, waving from the shadows. Shocked and unnerved, she looked at the Druid and back to the corner again. Only to see that her doppelganger had faded away.

"That sort of magic makes humans believe what we desire. Especially when they rely so heavily on visual world," he said. "After some time, our only real threat were the Gypsies. _They_ were a powerful people, not to be trifled with — ones, able to see through the veil unlike the blind fools of the cloth. Luckily, we shared a common enemy, and in those times, they used tales of us to keep people away."

"Did it work?" She asked.

"For a time. Thanks to their stories, we were left to be less cautious than we must be today. Now we have stricter rules for ourselves, as time and technology have changed. The world has grown smaller," his voice softly trailed before running his fingers through his long hair. "What is that thing Keryn is always watching... Youtube? Only a matter of time, only a matter of time, child." He studied her. "Is this what deeply troubles you? Our history?"

"No," she sighed. "I'm feeling lost on _what_ I am."

"You are Mother and Father to these children," he said. "You are yourself, and you are many others, as well."

"Will _I_ change?" she asked, her voice wavering now that he had touched on what she feared most. "The transference, when I get these memories, will I still be Devon? They've already been blending into my dreams since the first night I came here. They feel so real..."

He stared ahead into the cluttered space for a long moment, until he spoke again, his voice a hesitant whisper. "For once in my existence, I cannot tell you, child. You are an enigma to me. I did not see you coming, and somehow, I cannot see forward to what will come."

He turned toward her, stepping closer. "You can see why this frightens and intrigues us," he said.

Of course, she did. It frightened her as well, though his answer did little to calm her fears.

"May I?" He reached forward and stopped, hovering his palm over her forehead.

"Yes", she said giving him permission to do what he needed.

"He graciously nodded before pressing his hand firmly against her skin; his face upraised in deep concentration. A small part of her wanted to pull away, afraid he was going to discover the truth of where she had been with Jesse. She knew that refusing him would draw more suspicion then was good.

"It is almost as though something else is there, blocking my sight," he said. "I see your past, the memories of the time before you changed. They are still there in your mind..." A soulful smile stole across his face, and she could only imagine the thrill and the fascination he must feel, encountering something unknown after such a long time. She knew it scared him as it did her, if not for his own sake but for the lives of the family he had guided through the storms of human history.

"All I can tell you is that your soul will stay the same," he said.

After finally hearing this, a single tear rolled down her cheek into the crevice of a joyous smile.

"Remember your mind and character have always been stronger then you give yourself credit. The ways in which _you_ let these memories influence your mind will determine how much they can transform you. For not all, change is grim, with knowledge also comes power."

When he lifted his hand away, his eyes gazed down at her bandaged palm. "Here, allow me to take that from you." Carefully he unraveled the dressing, and when last of the bandage away peeled away, she saw that her wound had healed. There was no pain as flexed her hand, continuing to contract her palm; testing it as though it were brand new.

"I have a feeling you'll be able to surprise me even after I get these memories." She was confident he was being truthful when he claimed to have an inability to see into her future, as well as her current memories and thoughts.

Devon felt she had already occupied too much of the Druid's time and that more of these moments would not be far off in the coming days. Thanking him for the talk and the mending of her hand, she excused herself without explanation.

The world felt different after having been in the Druid's presence. His essence was different from any other person's. It was soothing, leaving her with an inner sense of calm, as though she had passed through a cleansing mist. As rare and different as the wolves might be, the Druid was truly unique- he truly was the last of his kind.

Just as she reached the bottom of the main stairwell, Devon came across Keryn on her way out from the council room. With questions concerning Connor hovering in her mind. She decided to stop her and see if she had a moment to spare. Though Keryn was nearly always shy and awkward around her, today she seemed incapable of even so much as eye contact.

"I'm just heading to the kitchen for a snack," she answered softly.

"Works for me," Devon said, "I could use a drink right now."

Right from the get-go, things were awkward, especially once the two girls had retrieved their items from the fridge. Keryn hovered, refusing to sit down until Devon had taken her spot. Instead of her normal position across the counter, she placed herself next to Devon instead. As several moments passed in silence, Devon leaned over, moving her hand up and down in an effort to win Keryn's attention.

"Okay, what gives?" she asked. "You're acting extraordinarily strange."

Keryn sighed, setting her fork down onto her already empty plate. "I wasn't going to bring it up," she said, biting her lip, "Rowland and a few of us have noticed that you've spent most of this past week either at Jenn's place or here, and..." Finally, she looked up with a torn expression. "Is there something wrong with the place we got for you? You haven't been back once to visit it! I picked it out myself, and I really thought you would like it."

There was a stunned silence, after witnessing how upset, Keryn was over something she hadn't even given a second thought too. Of course, she was genuinely grateful for the gesture they had made and what it meant to them. Although thinking on it now, she could understand how her continued presence around the house must have seemed. As she reached over, she put her hands onto Keryn's before the girl could lose herself in further emotional ramblings.

"No, Keryn, the place is beautiful," she said firmly. "And, I do appreciate what you've all done for me, trying to make me feel as accepted as you have. Rowland's rules were that I would use the place on the weekend and taking time to travel all the way into Victoria for space instead of Jenn's seems a bit frivolous to me."

Keryn began to blush. "I just really want you to be happy, Devon."

"I am," she insisted. "I promise. I love the apartment." She slid her hands away from Keryn's, standing up to pace in her discomfort.

"I still think it's more than that." Keryn pleaded.

Frustrated with herself for running away from her anxieties, now Devon felt guilty for insulting the non-alpha members when they had all been so generous and supportive.

"Fine. I'm just being a chicken," she said.

Keryn laughed in astonishment. "I thought you were a wolf?"

Devon realized that her packmate wasn't used to hearing an Alpha's admission of fear. "Keryn, I'm serious this isn't funny," she said. "I'm not avoiding my new place, I'm avoiding downtown. The one day I went, I kept running into different people downtown. One's that I used to know, only now they don't recognize me. I've even caught myself putting up my hand to wave, and when they look at me, sometimes I think they can see me- the real me. Until I see that they're embarrassed for not understanding who I am. They're just trying to be polite, but they can't place my face."

She stopped pacing. "I feel like a stranger in my own city and it doesn't help either when I come across places that remind me of Derrick and times that we spent together. I've cried three times in public, which I'm pretty sure is a record for me."

Keryn's eyes turned deep while she remained silent, leaving her friend with the unburdening of her grief.

Devon couldn't believe the words that were leaving her mouth. Just as it had been in the company of the Druid, she somehow seemed unable to stop herself from being candid now that she'd begun.

"I love my apartment," she continued, spreading her hands at her sides. "The view of the park is amazing; it's the kind of place I would have dreamed of having in my life. That's just the thing. My life was so different then. Now, I feel safe here, normal. I forget that I'm wearing someone else's face. I don't even know what I look like when I'm out there...."

Though Keryn was still at a loss for words, it was enough that the things she had been keeping to herself these past days hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

"You don't need to say anything. Let's try to talk about something else, shall we?" she said, seeing Keryn's compassionate nature welling up in her eyes.

"Actually," she added, "since I have your ear, you could help me with a different problem."

Keryn's only answer was an eager smile.

"You know Connor better than I do," she began. "Why has _he_ been acting so strange since my party? I can't seem to get him to talk to me and he keeps dodging our training sessions. Instead, he puts them onto Rowland's shoulders. It can't be the same thing you were upset about, because he started acting weird the first night I got the apartment."

Keryn's enthusiasm drained away, and her posture became carefully still. The girl had a terrible time concealing her thoughts and feelings from anyone — one of the main reasons Devon preferred to ask her, rather than another pack member.

"So, you _do_ know?" she asked, knowing it had to be the case.

Keryn began to shake her head, not so much in denial as her unwillingness to discuss it. "No, no, no! I'm not getting in the middle of this, and there's no way I can have this conversation with you," she prattled nervously.

"Why not?"

"For starters, it's too personal. It's something you're going to have to find out, and I can't be the one to tell you," she said, looking close to panic as she backed away towards the kitchen doors.

After witnessing Keryn's desperation to escape, Devon knew she wouldn't be able to let this go until she received a direct answer; no matter whom it came from. "It's okay, Keryn. I'll ask him myself, then."

The poor girl shook her head once more, her rejection of the moment becoming repetition. "I just can't be the one," she said, from halfway through the kitchen doors. Hastily making a retreat to her room before Devon could pursue the matter any further.

In Keryn's wake, she sniffed at the air, catching scent of woodlands and mist as John came through the main entrance. This time when she went down the hall to approach him, he was back to his usual smiling self.

"Afternoon, Devon," he said, removing his hat. "I'm just here to get Connor ready, so we can go trap some game for tomorrow night."

As though on cue, Connor walked into the foyer just then. Seeing Devon, he donned the same reluctant behavior he had been maintaining all week in her presence.

"Trapping, you don't say?" Devon said with a smile. "That sounds like fun. Mind if I come along?"

John grinned, seeming happy that she would take an interest in his duties within the pack. "Really? Have you ever been hunting before?"

"No," she said, "but if I'm going to be the new Alpha, then I guess it should be something I know how to do." She glanced towards Connor. "It's always nice to know what's going on, or how to make situations better." She smiled. "If it's all right with Connor, that is."

He returned the look with a muted expression. "Well, you are the Alpha," he said in a monotone. "What you say goes."

"Well, alright then," John rubbed his hands together briskly. "I have everything stored in the truck, just let me unload the deer I caught into the tunnels. It should be awake by the time we get back."

"It's not dead?" she asked as she pulled on her coat.

He shook his head. "We only hunt with tranquilizer guns. It's important to bring the animals in alive, so the wolves have something to eat on the full moon. I set some traps out last night in the hopes of catching something smaller for the kids to go after."

After they helped John unload the deer, she followed the men out to the truck. It strained at her already chaffed nerves watching Connor hide in the back seat, while his small bits of conversation stayed directed at Jenn's Husband. John, on the other hand, spent the drive telling her all about the first time he'd met Jenn while hunting in the woods. As it turned out, Jenn was quite fond of being free in nature.

Once they had reached the woods, she was forced to bide her time for the right moment to speak with Connor as they moved from trap to trap. The chance presented itself when John announced his plan to scout ahead while she and Connor made a sweep around the right, hoping to draw out a deer.

While John was out of sight, she took Connor by the arm, turning him around to face her. "All right, what the hell is going on with you?" she demanded. "I feel like I'm back in high school all week with your cold shoulder and your brooding."

He pulled his arm away, crossing it with the other against his chest. "This is an inappropriate time to bring this up," he answered stubbornly.

"Are you shitting me? You're the one avoiding me, which is pretty awful since I confided in you how it made me feel when Rowland was doing it."

"Things are just different; we can talk about it another time. John can hear us." He reminded her.

"Different?" she said, her voice beginning to rise. "Could you possibly be a little _less_ vague? How about some context, maybe?"

"You're going to be different," he growled, puffing up like a cornered animal.

"Yeah, I'm an Alpha, big deal. You knew that from the moment we started training. Besides, it's got to be more than that. Keryn practically had a nervous breakdown when I tried to get it out of her."

She could feel his anger rising, burning its way through his body as his neck flushed red. He spun around suddenly, punching the nearest tree several times in an explosion of anger. A dead branch fell loose with a loud crack, dropping to the ground nearby. As he turned back halfway, bits of bark clung to the bloody knuckles of his right hand, unable to bring himself to face her fully.

"I can't tell you," he choked.

"You can't...?" It was at that moment she knew her quarrel wasn't with him. "You mean you're forbidden," she said. "As in Rowland forbid you to tell me."

He instantly jumped to his leader's defense. "Don't be angry at Rowland," he said uselessly.

There was no way she could stay there after finding out this information. She began to head off on foot, only to stop again after a few feet. "I'm not mad at Rowland," she said. "Honestly, I'm not even mad at you. Just disappointed. So far when Rowland has forbidden something, it's been to protect me, and he doesn't know any better. _You_ on the other hand... whatever happens, tomorrow night it's obviously enough to count as a deal-breaker for whatever was happening between the two of us. I expected you to have a little more depth than that."

Before Connor was able to respond, John burst through the clearing up ahead, raising one of his traps with a broad smile on his face.

"Lucky us, I got a fox for the kids!" he called, his grin slowly fading as the moment's tension sunk in. He was left in confusion, watching Devon as she ran, vanishing through the trees on her way back to the house.

When she shoved open the council room doors, Devon stood panting, as though for once her state was entirely mortal. Unsurprisingly she found the cause of her rage, once again sitting in meditation on the floor across from her. Rowland opened his eyes expectantly waiting to hear what she had come to say.

Instead of waiting for his formal invitation, she marched over to him. "You forbid Connor to tell me something, so I assume you're going to be the one to tell me?"

"I _was_ going to wait until after tomorrow night," he replied calmly. "After you had changed."

"I'm not a child, Rowland. I'm not someone who needs to be coddled or handheld. I'm not weak." She paused, still breathing heavily. "Well?"

"I did it, because everything is wrong. Each night since the last full moon, I see his face." His voice was soft, defenseless. "Every night, Derrick comes to me and tells me that I made you a monster. I can't close my eyes without seeing my failure, and so I sit here, meditating, hoping for the Gods to give me a vision. I have never been surrounded with so much doubt. There was nothing to hide with Derrick, and everything was uncomplicated."

She came over to him, kneeling on the meditation pillow he had chosen not to use. He looked at her face, then back down at the floor, staring through the cracks to the tunnels down below.

"I suppose," he said, "I was hoping that tomorrow night when you change under the moon that your change will be... correct; and at the same time, I don't because it's the only thing keeping you alive."

Suddenly, she was afraid of what she needed him to say. Choosing to ask, anyway. "What about me is incorrect? What the hell is wrong with me?" She had stormed in on him, demanding answers, and now even as she asked, she questioned whether or not she truly wanted to hear them.

"There has never been a female Alpha," he reminded, "you know this. When I bite someone, my saliva is not like an infection, it's much more complicated than that. I pass on qualities as well, that alter and change a person's DNA. Other Alphas in the past have made female wolves of the regular sort, as part of the family, but never to be an Alpha, never under the right kind of moon. Perhaps it was the moon that night, the eclipse, I honestly don't know why it happened."

Perhaps Rowland somehow believed his answer should be evident to her, but she was more frightened and confused than ever, hearing the way he spoke with such bafflement. " _What_ happened to me, Rowland?" she urged.

"There has never been a female Alpha wolf-"

"Yes," she interrupted, growing impatient with worry, "you already said that."

"There may never _be_ a female Alpha wolf. When you changed, you were _not_ a female wolf. You were _my_ wolf."

Chapter Sixteen

FULL MOON RISING

Finally, it arrived, Devon's first full moon and still, she had hardly left her room. Even though no rules forbid her from crying in front of non-alphas, she cherished this sliver of privacy that shielded her tears.

Connor's misgivings no longer affected her as she struggled with so many conflicting emotions of her own. Of course, she felt guilty over having developed an attraction to someone so soon after Derrick's death, who wouldn't. Yet how could the pain of losing a small crush compare to the loss of never having a family in the future?

While she stood before the full-length mirror, looking herself over, Devon arched her back slightly as she ran her hand across the taut skin of her stomach. After her child had failed to survive the change, Jenn had given her the hope of one day becoming a mother. Now that there was no chance with her new body changes, the crushing sorrow she faced was almost more than she could bare.

It was time to stop blaming Rowland for what transpired that night. If he had a preference, he would never have created her in the first place. Instead, it would have been Derrick standing here in this room, and in a few months, she might have joined him by his side.

At least the secrets were over, and Rowland had promised this was the final thing he'd been holding back from her. He still believed waiting to hear about the Govannan tribute was best, and that once she was ready, all she need do was ask he would tell her everything. Also, there would be full disclosure, and he would never forbid any pack members from being completely honest with her.

She thought of Rowland's dreams and wondered if they were only a product of his regret; or something more. Did Derrick genuinely feel that way in respects to what she'd become- voicing his horror from beyond the grave? If so, why hadn't Derrick entered her dreams, shouting condemnations about her existence? The only vision she had of him was manifested through her guilt in the bathroom of the nightclub.

Come to think of it; she hadn't encountered the little boy either, not since the night he was holding the sword. A fresh wave of grief swept over her, thinking of the child's sweet face as she sat wearily down at the edge of the bed.

The smell of Keryn's shampoo preceded her timid knock at the door. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice thin and hesitant from beyond.

"You can come in," Devon answered listlessly.

Keryn entered before coming to a rigid stop in the center of the room; seeming to have lost the nerve to speak.

"What now?" Devon asked.

"I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you," she finally said.

"It's okay. I know you were forbidden. Besides, I wouldn't have known what to say to someone either if the tables were turned." _What a conversation that would have been,_ she thought while attempting to smile.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Keryn said, in a hopeful tone. "You're female at least ninety-nine percent of the time."

Devon was surprised to find herself laughing. There was something about Keryn that always had a way of cheering her up.

"May I?" Keryn asked, pointing at the rumpled bed.

"Please, I could use the company right now." She nodded.

Before she continued, Keryn climbed up and propped herself against the broad wooden post. "How did things go with Connor?" She approached the matter delicately, as though she still questioned her sanity in asking.

Devon sighed, dropping back onto the bed as she looked upwards at Keryn. "I haven't seen him. I don't think I could even look at him right now," she confessed.

"Why not?"

"I would just see my feelings mirrored back at me in his face, even if he tried to be normal." She paused, picking at a stray thread along the edge of the comforter. "Maybe your father was right. Maybe I am an abomination."

Keryn leaned forward, emphatically disagreeing as she placed a hand against Devon's cheek. "You're not an abomination," she said. "Devon, you're _beautiful_." She blushed, "What I meant to say is that you are amazing and it's only for one night of the month. None of this defines who you are. What you have or don't have between your legs, won't change the contents of your mind a soul and those things will always be _you_."

This time, Devon's smile was genuine. "Thank you."

Keryn smiled back as she removed her hand away from Devon's cheek before propping herself up on one arm.

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them before Devon asked quietly: "I'm never going to be a mother, am I?"

Keryn dropped her eyes at the hopelessness in her voice.

Though the answer was evident to them both, Devon continued. "It's stupid to say that, being only twenty-one. Up until I was with Derrick, I never thought about wanting kids. I guess it's different when you know the opportunity is no longer exists."

Against all expectations, Keryn let out a nervous giggle.

Devon frowned, astonished by her tactless response. "It's not funny," she insisted.

Keryn clapped a hand over her mouth, clearly surprised by her odd timing. "Oh no, no, no, I'm not laughing at that," she hurriedly explained. "It's a thought that popped into my head. I just realized that you're more stressed about what's going on in your pants for one night a month than you are about being a werewolf leader for the next three hundred plus years."

Try as she might, there was no way to hold on to her irritation after hearing the ill-timed confession. "Yup, teen wolf, that's me," she said. "It's all about girls and making the basketball team," Devon said with an overacted grin.

Keryn stared blankly.

"You know, surfing on top of a moving van?" she prompted, but Keryn merely shook her head.

"Nothing? Wow, I know it's from the eighties, but we're going to have to rent that movie for you."

Keryn laughed. "Now you sound like an Alpha."

"Why, because I know things you don't?"

"No, because you sound old," she answered, tossing a pillow at Devon; which she caught mid-air before tossing it back hitting Keryn in the face.

Both of the girls shared a laugh, struck by the absurdity of it all.

"Hey, listen," Keryn said, "The second part of feasting is happening downstairs. You want me to bring something up for you?"

"Did _you_ make it?" she asked skeptically, flinching away as Keryn tossed the pillow back again.

"Now you're going to have to come down and get your own," Keryn sulked, pretending that her feelings were hurt.

Devon nodded, feeling critical of herself for avoiding the family. Due to the previous day's events, she had been allowed to put off attending the nightly feast. This might not have been the healthiest way to deal with it, but she preferred to isolate herself after Rowland's upsetting revelation. By now, everyone in the family would have known about the irregularities in her change. They probably knew already and were forbidden to talk about it.

_Does the other family know?_ So many muddled thoughts and what did it really matter. The only difference now was that her clan knew she had been informed; making the whole feasting situation incredibly uncomfortable. "I probably should come down," she said. "Just give me a few minutes."

Keryn agreed, slipping off the bed and leaving her friend to prepare herself for seeing the family.

During her previous training sessions, Rowland had explained that Alpha bodies fared differently from the other pack members. That somehow their bodies were able to support multiple changes between moon cycles. Unlike Devon, it was important for her fellow packmates to nourish their bodies in preparation for their transformation. Years of study and observation during these moons showed that family members who didn't spend time bonding within the group had more social issues within the wolf pack, and were also more likely to be attacked. That is why the customs of feast and bonding had become part of their ongoing tradition.

Even before she had reached the room, Devon could hear the sounds of laughter and conversation dissipate in expectation of her approach. As she opened the door, an awkward quiet had seized the group. All around the table, no one seemed inclined to say anything, perhaps expecting she might break the silence herself with some dramatic pronouncement.

Once it became clear that she also had nothing to say, Eddie broke the tension by raising his glass. "Ah, the woman of the hour," he said, smiling.

As massive as the table was, the only free chair was stationed directly across from Connor, between Rowland and Keryn. Devon had her suspicions that the placement had been arranged purposefully, by Rowland in order to get them to talk. It surprised her to admit that she agreed with him. _I'm going to have to face him sooner or later. Now's as good a time as any._

Everyone quietly continued their meal once she had taken her seat, knives, and forks chiming softly to the accompaniment of subdued chatter.

There was something to be said about strength in numbers. Even Jesse was present, seated right beside Connor. She smiled across at him as she began loading her plate with a few different cuts of meat and roasted vegetables from around the table. He grinned back, quickly lifting his napkin to block Connor's view of his hand as he pointed covertly. _You can do so much better!_ He mouthed, shaking his head slowly.

Catching sight of him, Keryn stifled a giggle while motioning her agreeance.

Afraid Connor might notice if they were all to start laughing she thought it best to look around for a distraction while she smirked. Just to Connor's other side, Eddie diverted her attention with a mischievous grin, as he stabbed into a glistening link of sausage. With his fork held high, he waved it back and forth suggestively. "It's really not that bad, Devon," he said, "Once you get used to it."

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone realized Eddie's implication, causing the energies in the room tornado around her.

Faced with a definitive moment that would make or break an already complicated situation; Devon reacted. "You're absolutely right, Eddie," she said, a mask of a smile emerging. "I probably should ask someone who has one for advice on how to use it. _David_ ," she looked over, "maybe you could elaborate?"

David, who had been watching the back and forth dialogue had turned a bright red as everyone burst into laughter at Eddie's expense, Smith loudest of all.

"Oh, burn!" Jesse exclaimed, nudging Eddie's side. Sophia and Travis exchanged bewildered looks as Sophia tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Have one of what, Mum?" she asked. "What does David have that Eddie doesn't?"

Sporting enough to know when he was bested, Eddie laughed along with them.

"I spent my childhood on the street," she reminded him, "and then the rest of my teens in a fire hall. You're going to have to do a lot better than that."

He smiled graciously, rolling his hand in the motion of a bow. "All hail the Queen."

The brief tremor of laughter and chatter died down as Rowland stood up from his chair, glass in hand. "I know this was not the way things were intended," he said, looking to Devon. "This has been a remarkably difficult time for everyone and some more than others. I know my time seems fleeting, and yet every day is cherished. Through my years, there is one thing I have seen to be true; time can heal all wounds, and with that time, our bonds become stronger. We sit here as a family, my Sons, my Daughters, and my equals. Every time we gather before the moon, even after all these years, your faces remind me of how fortunate I am. Having known each one of you has helped me become the man who stands before you. How blessed I am to share this journey by your side."

He raised his glass high. "Yeghes da!" The gathered family shared the toast, repeating his gesture in shouting out: "Yeghes da!"

Next, to Devon, Keryn reached forward, tapping their glasses together. "Welcome to the family."

Devon smiled, raising her glass outward, feeling for the first time she might genuinely be able to become part of this family as she called out. "Yeghes da."

Earlier that day in Seattle, fragments of light began to filter into a man's consciousness. His eyelids were heavy and his vision clouded as though seeing through a dusty lens. In a strenuous effort, he reached for his head, clamping down in an attempt to stop the painful throbbing that split through his skull.

Rolling onto his side, he rubbed at his eyes, struggling to clear his vision as the shift in movement brought the room to a hard spin. He moaned pitifully, the pain hindering his conscious thought before vomiting across the rough floor. Unable to move, he stayed curled in a fetal ball, while a series of dry heaves wracked his body. After several minutes, the intensity of the spinning slowly ceased; leaving the room tilting woozily from side to side. It took a great while before he was able to unfold himself, and with enough strength, he rolled his body up onto his knees to get a better look.

As his eyes struggled, he was just able to discern the shape of another man.

Only fifteen feet away, lying naked, was a stranger with his back turned in the opposite direction.

"Hello?" The voice he emitted was barely a croak. "Hello? Are you okay?" Another violent wave of nausea overtook him as he braced his palms against the ground. "Please....I'm a doctor...can you hear me?"

The other man remained where he lay, unwashed and lifeless, giving no response to his calls.

"Hello!" This time he called out louder, the dryness stinging his vocal cords. "Is anyone there?"

Only silence followed as the light from the windows high above burned against his eyes, inflaming the pain inside his aching head. "My name is Reed Wilson. I'm a doctor at Saint Paul's...can anyone hear me?"

Still, there was no reply. In his struggle to stand, he found that the muscles were too weak, causing him to fall back against knees. At the same time, Reed heard the clink and slither of a chain dragging against the cold concrete. Within the haze a green light pulsed, drawing his sight down the length of his leg only to find his ankle heavily manacled and anchored to the floor. The green hospital scrubs he wore did little to protect him from the chill of the room, while his skin gleamed from the sweat of a fever that had him trembling.

Hoping for relief from the heat emanating from his skin, Reed rolled his forehead against the cold ground, sobbing in pain.

A shadow from another person blocked the light above, followed by a sharp prick to the neck.

"Save those tears for tonight, dear Doctor," were the last words he heard fading out before descending back into unconsciousness.

Beneath the council room, a deer grazed peacefully on the tufts of grass growing at the tunnel's junction. Devon remained silent as she watched it eat its modest feast, moved by the graceful beauty of its nature. They shared a kinship unbeknownst the animal. Just as she was on her voyage to Victoria during the night of her transformation, the deer remained blissfully unaware to the carnage the night would carry.

Both deer and watcher looked towards the sound of Rowland entering the room before the deer retreated off into one of the tunnels.

A green robe was draped over his arm, which caught the attention of her eyes. The cloth was heavy silk, richly embroidered with oak branches tipped by golden autumn leaves, skillfully created as everything she had found in the family's possession.

"We made this is for you," he said. Laying the fine craftsmanship across her arms like a swaddled child. "You should find it easier to remove, and it gives one privacy if you so desire."

"Yeah," she said, running her hand over the detailed stitching, "I hear nudity isn't as taboo when you're a few hundred years old."

"There is a lot of truth to that statement. The only member of the family troubled by this is Keryn. Since the age of ten, she has been the only one to maintain such modesty during the transformation," he observed.

She laughed in agreement. "I've noticed she's kind of shy about a lot of things."

"That's partially my fault for letting her father shelter her the way he has," Rowland admitted.

"I imagine after what happened to Elise; he would have been overly protective. I can't blame the guy."

Rowland nodded in sympathy. "I have something to tell you," he said. "Last night, I said that I wouldn't hold back from you when it comes to our traditions. Besides the Govannon tribute, there is only one other thing that I still haven't told you about the lineage of our people."

She lifted a hand to stop him from speaking further. "I know I asked for this, but I'm already over overwhelmed that _this_ night is actually happening. Whatever history lesson you want to unload, it can wait until after tonight."

Seeming to understand the wisdom of her suggestion, he nodded. Whatever he needed to say, it could wait for the light of day.

"If it helps put your mind at ease, the two of you won't be the only ones dressed tonight. I decided to dust off my old robe so that you might feel more comfortable. Speaking of which, I should go put mine on and meet you back here. We only have an hour before the sun sets," he said.

As he crossed the room, she wondered how the Seattle family was preparing. In her imagined version, Siobhan rather than Orin might be acting as Kaden's guide the same way Rowland had been hers. Just before he made it to the doors, she called out to him.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I might not be able to forgive you," she said, "but I'm willing to try moving forward. It's just going to take time."

He smiled sadly. "Thank you, Devon. I only hope that someday before my death, I will be able to forgive myself."

As he lay awake with his fever broken, Reed shivered on the cold concrete. The light had gone, as well as the haze that obscured his vision through his brief period of wakefulness. Still too weak to stand, he pulled himself up on all fours, fighting to regain his balance; only to fail.

Onto his back, he rolled as the cuff around his ankle, pinched painfully against his leg. "Fuck!" He cursed. A tiny gap of light flashed between the space where the chain and manacle connected. With several aggressive movements, he pulled it at, vainly hoping to discover some weakness by which he might free himself.

"It's useless to try," someone remarked.

He was startled by the unexpected voice, then froze as he peered through the dark toward the sound. In his fear, he had forgotten about his captive companion; the naked man. In the gloom of the shadows, he could see him now, still unclothed, propped against the metal beam.

"Who... who are you?" he asked the shape in the dark, his voice hoarse. He was thirsty, so thirsty. "Are you okay? My name is Reed," he offered, as though the gift of his name should mean something to this stranger. Somehow, he sought to bring some humanity to the horror of the situation they found themselves.

"I'm sorry," the man said in a monotone. There was a resignation in the words that led Reed to believe he meant them.

"Sorry? Sorry for what? What the hell is going on here?"

The hulking shape in the darkness answered cryptically. "It's the way he likes it."

"He?" Reed asked. "Who is _he_?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the man repeated.

With a renewed dread, he realized that the man was crying as he spoke. "Why do you keep saying that? What have you done?"

"It's something I have to do. I have to kill you, and I don't want to."

At these words, his heart began to hammer in his chest. He screamed for help, for someone, anyone, to come and release him.

From somewhere high above, a new voice answered instead. "Scream all you want, Doctor. Everyone before you wailed out their pitiful cries, and it did them about as much good as it will you."

He frantically scanned the rafters for a sight of the one who spoke, pleading for mercy. "Please, please don't do this!" he choked. "I have a wife... I have two children, Jonathan and Aubrey, please...don't do this!"

A younger man stepped out from the shadows near the ceiling, his thin face twisted in a mocking sneer as the dusty light fell across the shoulders of his long wool coat. "Oh god, please, don't... please," he whined back in imitation of his captive. "Stop acting like a pathetic insect; you should be thankful to shed your mortal existence."

Reed turned back to the naked man, scrambling as close as his shackles would allow. "Please," he begged, "you don't have to kill me; it's your choice. You don't have to do what he says."

The other man shook his head. "It's not my choice," he replied. "It's always going to be hungry when it comes. I can't control _it_."

Knowing by his voice that his companion had resigned himself to their conjoined fate, Reed succumbed to a fit of sobbing.

The clothed man, their overseer, laughed at the tragic play unfolding below as he pulled open a large sliding door alongside the balcony. "It won't be long now, Doctor," he called down. "You might want to save your strength."

"No, no, wait! Come back here, why are you doing this to me?" Reed shouted as the balcony door ground shut.

As the sun vanished over the hill, the candles along the walls ignited into blue flames; illuminating the room around them. In the center, Devon and Rowland stood several paces apart, cloaked in robes, their faces shadowed under cover of the deep hoods.

As they waited, the doors drifted open on their own as the Druid approached. He crossed through the two Alphas making his way to the opposite side of the room before turning to face them. With the staff held high from his arrival he sharply lowered it, striking the ground once; the blue flames illuminated more brightly in a wave of energy before he proceeded to make his circuit around the room. The remainder of the pack stood at the door, following in procession as he passed them.

Devon was overwhelmed with appreciation and honor as she looked upon her new family. They all bore ceremonial robes, even the children, held in the arms of their mother and father. Their homage prepared solely for her.

In a language near forgotten in time, the Druid's deep voice reverberated off the stone walls, filling the chamber. Having circled the Alphas twice, the group drew closer to the pair, forming a silent ring as he continued his chant before the throne. As his voice rang out, Devon left her place, guiding the pack alongside Rowland towards the tapestry and into the tunnels beyond.

Further down the passage, they reached a rope ladder at the mouth of the pit. Devon was unable to discern their faces as they passed, though she recognized each one by energy and scent, knowing their nature beyond disguising bonded them.

It shook her to see Jenn and John carry the children on their backs, leading them down the long dark drop to the tunnels below. The limitations of her human life still toyed with her mind, warning her of dangers that no longer applied, even for ones so young.

Upon the Alphas return to the council room, the family assembled below them in a ring as they had above. From where he stood, the Druid released his staff, sending it drifting towards the center of the room. As his staff hovered between the Alphas, so ceased the beautiful aria — a sign that the change was about to commence.

Having discarded their robes, the pack below stood naked. Joining with them Devon found that her shyness had left as she dropped her robe without fear or vulnerability. A strength built within her, something she had never experienced before, a new power grown through the bonds of humanity and born with her communion of the pack. She knew then that she _would_ lead them one day, not merely because circumstance demanded it, but because it was indeed her will and her desire.

Their eyes were both locked and focused on the staff, as they prepared themselves for the coming pain. Rowland followed suit, his robe sliding to the ground.

_I'm ready_ , she thought, before the first terrible scream rang out as Keryn fell, writhing in agony. The children quickly followed, demonstrating for Devon how natural it was for the youngest members of the pack to fall under the power of the moon. A part of her wanted to comfort those who suffered below; still, she knew the only way to help them was to focus her energy until the change took her.

The pain was a familiar one for Devon, as her blood began to burn and sting from underneath her skin. Each cell became a tiny razor blade cutting through to the outside; bursting with intensity, oozing from her skin in a red sweat before pouring forth from her eyes and ears.

Tiny tears began to form at her joints and the skin of her chest, each little scalpel rebuilding her bones, growing fur in place of shedding skin. From the screams below, she could only imagine what the rest of the family endured. The breath rushed out as her ribcage collapsed with a sickening crunch, her chest caving in only to burst forward again, expanding itself into a larger cavity. It felt as though it would never end, each painful sensation, her ripping tendons, and every drop of blood before a deafening silence befell the room.

Reed had thought himself a captive of the most deranged sort of people, the kind of sadists you prayed never to meet. But, people nonetheless. That was until a new horror began unfolding before him, realizing now that things were grievously worse.

The naked man staggered before him, his body contorting in ways even Reed, a doctor, knew to be impossible. From deep within his body, bones cracked loudly, echoing through the warehouse; like a snapping branch. The man howled in pain, his voice rising with hysteria into the whine of a wounded beast.

He watched, paralyzed with fear as the man's flesh began to tear like a worn suit bursting at the seams. With a heavy thud, he collapsed down on all fours, pieces of his flesh sliding from his face and shoulders onto the dirty ground. A guttural wail of continued apologies poured out, begging for forgiveness through the mingling of tears and blood now pouring from his eyes.

His sight fixated on the unthinkable process taking place even as he struggled, wanting to look away and yet unable to do nothing but bare witness. Reed began to scream against howling sounds coming from the creature forming in front of him. A wordless cry of terror as he bashed his leg against the ground, desperately trying to free himself from the chain that held him at the mercy of this nightmare.

The transformation was gaining momentum, as more and more flesh sloshed away, revealing large patches of blood-matted fur beneath. A series of dull pops and crunching sounds burst forth from the man's chest as his shoulders dislocated. Reed and his unwilling companion howled in unison, one in fear, the other in pain; choking behind his dripping mask of human flesh.

Laughter drifted down from the balcony as his kidnapper stepped into view. Reed was just able to pull his eyes away from the emerging beast to see who it was. His mostly nude abductor was clad only in a heavy silver collar and a scrap of chain mail hanging at his waist. From the collar down, his body was in a state of transformation, similar to the man chained below. The only difference amidst the screams was his face remaining human.

His back arched as a tremor of shifting shapes passed beneath his skin, the man seemed to be embracing the pain with an ecstatic eagerness. A terrible screech echoed as he reached forward, pressing his ragged claw against the railing.

"Press it," a different voice announced.

The man in view strained forward grabbing a box that hung down from a thick black cable; squeezing the large red button. Instantly the light at Reed's ankle changed from green to red as it sprang open, freeing him. At the same moment from somewhere high above a wheel began to turn with an ominous grinding whirr before it clicked; locking into place. Suddenly a length of chain crashed onto the ground, and across the room, the man turned beast lunged forward, charging for Reed as he shuffled back across the concrete. The chain came crashing to a stop — it's salivating jaws snapping only inches away; held by a thick metal collar as it snarled with hunger and blind rage.

In an adrenaline-driven frenzy, Reed scrambled for the far wall. Frantically tossing and clawing his way through a heap of broken pallets and debris. When he finally reached the boarded windows, he hammered against them manically, searching to find a weak spot through which he might escape. He scraped at the wooden slats, digging in with his fingernails, driven on by the sound of the thrashing chains and the furious snarls behind him.

When he managed to gain a partial grip along the edge of the rotting board, he tore at it without hesitation; ripping his fingernail clear from its bed. He cried out from the sudden anguish, which only riled the animal struggling furiously to reach him. He tried to shut out the pain, giving what remained of the board a hard pull. As it tore away with one final tug, a dirt-smeared corner of broken window shone dully underneath.

Reed punched at the glass, before frantically hitting the window with a piece of wood from the floor. The layers of glass chipped away, expanding the hole, only to find a layer of wire mesh reinforced the thick double panes. Using his hands, he pulled at a small break in the weave as the wires pricked deep into the layers of his fingers and palms. Reed swore and cursed as his blood smeared all over the metal, creating a hole big enough to use the board as leverage. Heart racing, he was quickly able to bend and split some of the wires while dislodging the pane of glass on the other side before tossing the wood to the floor. Time was slipping away, and he feared the beast's chain would unwind at any moment. With nothing to lose, he reached his arm through the narrow hole, trying his best to shield his neck and head in his haste to be free. The space was small, too small, and the glass dug into his flesh as he forced his other arm and shoulders through it.

Several sharp edges of broken glass carved deep into his chest as he dragged his body across, creating deep gashes as brutal as the claws he sought desperately to escape. His jaw strained, tears spilled from his panicked face as he hissed at the burning pain. Survival was all that mattered; he was beyond screaming now in his concentration as he grunted and pulled, cutting even more in-depth damage. Most of his body was through now as he heard the echoing crash of the falling chain as his captor finally gave it slack, releasing the monster.

Seconds later, he felt it: the searing pain as the wolves jaws clamped down around his calf, hauling him back halfway through. Screaming in terror, he felt a flush of hot urine soak through his thin surgical scrubs. He held fast to the windowsill as the animal thrashed its head, throttling and turning his leg like a dog with a twist of rope.

The wolf was not giving up and gave another sharp tug, ripping him back to his armpits. Reed was unable to see past his torn and bleeding torso and kicked blindly with his free leg at the beast's head. Only through chance, he managed to land a crucial blow; striking it hard in the eye with his heel. There was a yelping sound before it released him for a precious second. With every last bit of strength, he pushed against the edges of the window. On the left side, his white ribs gleamed through the blood as his wounds stretched from the broken glass. After one final twist, he cleared the last of the window, falling backward onto the pavement. From below he could see the snout of the wolf's head gnashing wildly at the air, licking the blood-smeared jagged glass.

"Stop him! He's getting away!" Vince cried weakly.

Orin stepped forward from the shadows, calmly pushing the red button with a gloved hand, dragging werewolf attached away from the window before locking it into place. Then, without a word, he crossed the space between himself and his son, delivering a sharp slap across his face. The wolf on the chain growled low, stirring restlessly at the violence.

"Don't you ever presume to give me orders," he said sternly.

Vince cowered at the reprimand, bowing low to crouch in obedience before his father. From the neck down, his anatomy transformed; his appearance had become more monstrous than the slavering beast pacing at the end of the chain.

Orin grinned, his moment of anger already forgotten as he ran his hand through his son's dark hair. "Let's see how Rowland's perfect little bitch handles herself now."

The transformation had finished, leaving the Alphas panting under the moonlight. Their human skins lay puddled on the bronze floor as they dissolved and dripped along the cracks. Below them, the wolves waited, entirely changed, staring up at their leaders in silent expectation.

The Druid's staff descended to the floor as it began drawing the blood towards itself; drinking in the remaining fluids. Atop the knotted oak, Devon watched while new branches sprout forth, creeping their way towards the moon. One by one, their tender leaves began to glow with the same pale hue of the candles flickering about the room. The light immediately intensified, creating tiny beams which shot up towards the center of the glass dome; bursting forth into a single shaft.

Visible only to the wolves, the light projected far beyond the glass ceiling before creating a powerful shield. Its purpose, to protect the house from unwanted eyes and contain it's howling contents within.

With his task complete, the Druid recalled his staff from across the room before silently vanishing into the shadows.

Together, the Alphas threw back their heads and howled, a powerful song of union with the forces that governed them. Amongst the earth, the pack united as they joined in the call; creating a chorus that was succeeded by a beautiful stillness before they scattered. Most of the wolves slipped silently into the darkness of the tunnels, searching for spoils. All except one black and white female remained, head tilted in curiosity.

Looking down, Devon knew who it was. " _Keryn?"_

_ "She can't hear you."_

__ Devon turned to Rowland, crouched across the room. _"Did you just talk?"_

_ "This is how we communicate with each other," _said the elder Alpha.

_ "Telepathy?" _Devon asked.

_ "Of sorts," _he answered. _"Part of the spell the druid cast is allowing us to share one consciousness. It will help with the passing of my memories when the time comes."_

__ For the first time, they stood together in silence, the Father and the Son. Devon stared down the length of his arms, extending his claws. In this form, the details of anatomy mattered little, only the power and the strength of the wolf. Beyond it, there was a rawness and an essential truth in being this way. Although Devon had expected to be overcome by the foreignness of the change, now it seemed only right, as he sensed the balance between the animal male and human female selves within. It was as though he had woken from a long, strange dream in which he had lived out the days of a troubled human. Rather than feeling himself to be a monster, he felt closer to his essence, hovering in the space between woman and man, person, and wolf.

__ " _I guess you were right_ ," Devon said. " _There never will be a female Alpha wolf."_

_ "It might not be what you were wanting," _Rowland said _, "but it's the one thing holding Orin at bay. The rules we abide by solely states that there can be a male Alpha wolf allowed to rule. I'm reluctant to be the one to say it, but somehow, by some means, it is as though it were meant to happen this way."_

__ And somehow, someway, Devon knew it to be true _._

Chapter Seventeen

EPILOGUE - ROGUE

During several rare warm days, the few premature blooms had been tricked out of hiding by the sun's light — each fragile flower nudging up through the patch of dirt alongside the Gorge Road gas station. A coating of frost glimmered over the surrounding area, and although the sun shone bright, the first of February was bitter cold.

Inside the one-person kiosk, a young manager busied himself after a slow morning. His stature and appearance significantly stood out from the crumpled golf shirts and skewed name tags of his employees. Instead, his uniform was crisp with a slight blemish from where he had spilled his coffee earlier in the day and a name tag reading Allan as rigged as the ship he ran. Toiling away with the cigarette inventory, rustling the pages of his clipboard as he ticked the numbers off one by one. With only an hour and a half left until lunch, dull tasks such as this were the only way to pass the minutes in between the odd customer. The door alarm's faint chime rang out, breaking the monotony of his task with the promise of someone to serve. When he glanced up, his eyes became instantly cautious at the state of the man standing in front of the counter.

The guy in front of him wore a child-sized housecoat, comically small on his tall frame. Accompanied by a faded pair of boxers that peeked loosely beneath the tied sash, and feet clad in mud-caked slippers. Everything was inconsistent, especially the wrap-around sunglasses sitting crookedly on his face- a bizarre accompaniment to the rest of his ensemble. If it weren't for being an industrial area of the city, he would have seemed as though he had simply wandered from his home in a daze. As he approached, Allan was able to observe more of the man and noticed a baseball bat held limply in his shaking hand. There was no expression to the man's face, just a rigged stance as he waited in silence.

The manager looked out towards his employees. Both of them stood chatting next to the far pump; oblivious to the customer in front of him. He had already concluded that they had another crazy on their hands. Now, he was left to wonder _how_ crazy, and what would be his next move.

"I need quarters for the vending machine," the man said in a monotone, slamming a five-dollar bill onto the counter.

"Sir, I sorry but I can't open the till with an item that could be used as a weapon present. You need to put the baseball bat outside the kiosk."

His eyes were concealed behind the tinted lenses while giving no response to the request. The man only continued to stand silently, his trembling growing more pronounced.

Thankful for his company training in defusing situations such as these, he knew which actions to take to avoid an altercation. With as much politeness as he could muster, and in a non-threatening tone, he addressed the man once more. "Sir, can you please put the bat outside the kiosk? If you do that for _me_ , I will gladly get the change for _you_."

The man turned without speaking, stepping outside to prop his bat beside the door.

Before he returned, the manager quickly replaced his bill with the requested change, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the stranger with a minimum of trouble. As the man came back inside, he pointed to the counter. "Thank you, Sir, company policy. Your change is there," he said.

Allan waited patiently, having learned from countless such encounters the importance of staying calm. A shiver ran down the back of his neck as he watched the man's hands crawl like pale spiders as they gathered up the coins. He couldn't help but notice with disgust; the dried blood that caked his fingernails.

The stranger stuffed the quarters into the pockets of his housecoat and turned to leave, collecting his bat as he passed through the door. It came as no surprise to see him shuffling off towards the run-down hotel behind the station. A specific portion of the station's customers was the refuse of the hotel. All the staff had grown used to seeing the addicts, underpaid sex workers, and neighborhood crazies on a daily basis. Most of them were friendly, but it was the shaky ones you had to look out for.

After the potential danger subsided, he stepped outside, zipping his jacket against the morning chill. By now, the other workers had taken notice of the disheveled man, standing idly at the pump as they watched him stagger away, trailing his bat through the dirt like a cave dweller. Catching their nervous glance, the manager shook his head at them as they remembered themselves, scrambling away in search of some random task.

When he looked down to the pavement, he noticed a spattering of blood, crystallizing against the ground where the bat had rested. His disgust grew into annoyance as he realized the bloody path led all the way into the booth.

"Oh, man!" he shouted. "Hey Tony, go get some disinfectant spray. That psycho trailed blood into the booth."

As the manager glanced up towards the building in anger, he could see the man standing on the faded balcony of an upper room. With his sunglasses removed, he stood with a lifeless expression; his eyes fixed on the station below.

Instinctively he wanted to flip him his middle finger, but instead, Allan chose to remain professional and tipped his cap in his direction.

"Fucking' psycho," he muttered to himself as he returned to his clipboard, confident he was well out of hearing range; leaving the man to his staring contest.

Later on, in the afternoon, the manager did his best to find useful tasks to keep his mind occupied. The other two employees hung around outside, bullshitting as usual, though he couldn't muster up the motivation to reprimand them for it with so little work to be done. There hadn't been a customer in the last twenty minutes. All he could do was shrug as he allowed them to pass the time on their cellphones.

A few minutes later, as he cleaned the windows inside the kiosk door, he glanced up at a sudden movement. Making his way swiftly towards the booth, the man from the hotel had returned. This time, it took him less than a second to see the bat clenched in his hand.

There wasn't enough room for three to fit inside the front booth, nor was there any time to explain. It was partly the instinct of self-preservation that urged Allan to remain in the kiosk and the other his annoyance from earlier. " _Sorry, you two can deal with him this time_ ," he thought, sliding the door and locking it from the inside. Through the freshly Windexed glass, he watched as his employees turned mid-banter to regard the man approaching, sharing a look of curious amusement.

What happened next, even he couldn't have imagined. Neither man had time to do so much as scream before the baseball bat landed; sending the blood of their skulls showering across the sparkling pane.

Thick upon the winter air was the scent of blood as the twins jumped from the ambulance, medical kits in tow. Eddie and David arrived just shortly after the police, responding to a 911 call from a gas station manager. All the dispatcher could understand from the man's ramblings was that several people were severely hurt, and the man was now trapped inside, fearing for his life.

The blood-red color gleamed neon-bright against the dull pavement, splashed in heaps along the street in frozen trails. At its starting point, carnage littered the ground while ravaged pieces of human remains decorated the station's booth.

Next, to the police cruiser, the newly rescued manager stood huddled beneath a blanket, while a puddle of steaming vomit ran out from between his feet.

Assessing the scene, David glanced at his brother. "There's at least a head and heart missing," he said.

"How the hell can you tell that from all this mess?" Eddie returned as he leaned in closer, attempting to verify his brother's claim.

"You radioed in to say the manager wasn't injured?" David addressed the police officer.

"He's not physically injured, but the guy's a mess. I can't make out what he's saying. Can you guys move him over to the ambulance? He pissed his pants, and it's really starting to smell."

Annoyed with his lack of empathy, David pushed past the officer towards the shaken witness as Eddie promptly followed.

"Sir, are you okay?" David asked. "Can you tell me your name, Sir?

Mainly muttering to himself as David made several passes across his eyes with his flashlight, receiving a minimal response.

He looked back at the officer. "What the hell is wrong with you, this man is in complete shock."

"I gave him a fucking blanket, what more do you want? I'm not a doctor." The officer poorly defended himself.

Next, to his brother, Eddie shook his head, filled with contempt for the situation. "Can you understand anything he's saying?"

"No, it's just muttering to me."

Leaning closer to his brother in order to prevent the officer from hearing, Eddie whispered emphatically: "David, the bodies have been chewed on."

Beside them, the gas station manager gasped. "He was eating them!!" he suddenly wailed. "Oh my god, he was eating them!"

Eddie moved his brother out of the way as a fresh spray of vomit spewed out into the growing pool.

Holding his brother's gaze, David took out his phone and pressed 1.

Their Alpha answered after only one ring. "It's Rowland."

"We're on a call, and we have.... a situation."

"What kind of situation?" he asked.

With one word, David replied. "Rogue"

Volume 2

A Hunted Rogue

COMING SOON
