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Lykos Chapter 9 (Dark Covenant)

Ethan's room was dark, as it had been for days. The lights were off, a t-shirt was pressed against the base of the door to block out the hallway, and all of his colorful flags and cloth was draped over his window to try and shield his room from the sun outside. Even with it being overcast, though, faint lines of light punctured through all but the last layer of fabric, creating a subtle, faint hazy glow to the dorm. Ethan lay on his bed, one leg under the covers, his chest sweaty, an arm hanging off one side, his fingers trailing the floor.

Ever so gently, Ethan traced his fingers back and forth over the rough carpet texture, feeling it like burlap against his skin. He thought of the last full moon, of what Caleb must have felt when Jesse bit him... What should have been a gift raced through his body like venom, his body fighting against it until it just gave up. It was a life snuffed out because the Keepers had failed to keep Jesse in line. It was another death on Ethan's hands. His face tightened, his eyes squinting shut. He brought his hands up to press against his face. He wanted to shut it all out, to turn it all off. He didn't want to think about it any more. He hadn't eaten for days, he'd barely had any water... but it wasn't enough. There were reminders everywhere.

Ethan tried to focus on silence, on quiet, on the still places in his life. He stretched his mind out, reaching for calm memories, for tranquility... but something was keeping him from getting there, a sound. It was an irritating sound, a ringing - an alarm. Ethan slowly opened his eyes, looking around his room. The sound was still there, in the distance. It was a fire alarm. Ethan's eyes widened and he slipped his legs out of bed, stumbling toward the door. He kicked the shirt away from the crack and touched the door, then the knob. Neither was hot.

"Stupid drill..." Ethan muttered to himself, opening the door and stepping out into a completely unexpected view. It wasn't the hallway of his dorm, that was for sure. The floor tiles were pale and muddled brown, the wall far on the other side of the hall was white plaster and there was a banner hanging across it, a banner wishing the Trojans luck at homecoming. Ethan's muscles twitched, his fingers went cold. "N-n-no... No, no..." Ethan whispered, trying to turn around, but the door to his dorm was gone.

The lights were out in the school, but sunlight poured in through the high windows, shining off the floor by the cafeteria and the front steps. Ethan felt his strength fading even more before he fell to his knees, crouching down, resting his head on the floor. He continued to whimper, saying nothing else even as the silence was punctured by the resounding fire alarm. Moments later, the tiny silver spur sprinklers in the ceiling hissed and began to unleash their fury, the water pouring down over Ethan, soaking through his clothes.

Ethan sobbed, his hot, salty tears rolling down to mix with the bitterly cold sprinkler spray. Puddles began building around him, spreading out on the floor. The ink from the banner started to run. It was soaking him to the bone, saturating him... and then all at once, it stopped. The droplets of water continued to fall, but not around Ethan. Ever so slowly his eyes opened and he looked around, seeing the water stopping.

"It didn't happen like this... What is this?" Ethan whispered.

"This, my friend, is an umbrella." Came a chipper voice from behind him. Ethan turned quickly toward the source of the voice. There was a scrawny, lithe young man wearing a deep black leather jacket with a hood pulled up over his short buzzed brown hair. Despite leaning against the lockers, he held out an umbrella over Ethan. A bit of his forearm was exposed leading to the wrist that held the umbrella, betraying black swirl tattoos. Ethan looked at the man's hand, his wrist, his arm and then his face... a face he had come to know very well, the face of Rayne Fletcher - almost. The only main difference was that his eyes were solid, pitch black.

"Demeas..." Ethan whispered, rising back up to his knees before standing. Fletcher clicked his tongue.

"So quick on the draw, and yet you haven't told poor, innocent Fletch? I mean seriously, didn't you think he had a right to know? I was pretty sure my reputation would carry when I woke up with that fluffy little arcane healer of yours." Demeas replied.

"What do you want? How are you doing this?" Ethan asked.

"Two big questions with very big answers... So I'll go with the second one." Demeas replied. Ethan stood there, his arms crossed, water running down his back. Demeas gave Ethan a hesitant look, tilting the umbrella a bit, "Seriously? Not gonna use it?" he asked.

"This isn't real. This is history." Ethan said.

"You sure? You don't wanna go see if Conrad's right around the corner?" Demeas asked. Ethan's hand shot up and wrapped around Fletcher's throat, constricting and tightening around it. A wide grin crossed Fletcher's face, revealing two very sharp fangs, "Kinda hard to answer questions like that." He said hoarsely.

"You are no better than a demon possessing a boy." Ethan said, releasing the throat in his hands.

"And you tell all of your Keeper friends that your gift is light magic, but that's a rather broad category, isn't it? Force fields, light manipulation, a touch of healing. Covers almost everything... except what you can really do. You are a neuromancer, and that's how you're doing this - not me." Demeas replied.

"I'm doing this?" Ethan asked in shock, stepping back. Demeas cast the umbrella away and reached up, lowering his hood, tilting his head back to let the sprinkler mist roll down his face.

"You were reflecting on all your darkest failures... The loss of your brother, the risk that Rayne poses the world, and this newest garbage with the overzealous omega. Honestly, your back story is the most interesting of them all. You do realize you and Conrad were so close to winning, right? Nothing you could have done at the time though." Demeas reflected.

"What do you want?" Ethan asked.

"I said I'd answer the second one." Demeas grinned.

"But you didn't. I asked how you were doing it, but you're not. The question was invalid." Ethan said. Demeas grinned even broader.

"You see, this is such a perfect fit... You and Rayne, debate class all over again." Demeas said, "You really wanna know? You want to know what I want?" Demeas asked.

"Yes, that's all I want." Ethan replied. Demeas laughed.

"Oh trust me, that isn't all you want... but if we're going to talk about me, we need a serious change of venue." Demeas said, looking up at the ceiling. The light drained away from the school windows, the flood of the sprinklers grew stronger and it all seemed to wash and swirl together, the images around Ethan rippling and restructuring. The chaos of it all forced Ethan to close his eyes for a moment, but he could feel the world around him steady as a warm, thick liquid rose up to his knees. The air filled with a peaty smell, the smell of a swamp. Ever so slowly, Ethan opened his eyes again, looking out into a swamp filled forest.

Ethan looked around for a moment before his eyes settled in on movement. Fletcher was wading through the soupy bog wearing a white and brown toga. He looked tired, worn out and a bit weak. As he advanced, limbs shifted and there were noises. Perched on one branch was a feral white wolf, small but healthy. Fletcher passed by, working deeper.

"Rayne!" Ethan tried to call out, but his voice faded inches from his mouth. Ethan looked around, trying to understand where he was and what he was seeing, but his eyes fell across something he had hoped never to see... The red eyes of a direwolf. Ethan reached for his hidden knife, but like his voice it faded as soon as it was out of its container. Rayne stopped as well.

"Hello! I know you're out there!" Fletcher screamed into the thickest clumps of the mist. "No need to catch me by surprise and all." He added, obviously trying to be brace. Ethan had to admire Rayne's courage. There was silence, and then a low, rumbling voice.

"The surprise... is a human coming into the swamp of the lost ones all by himself. Aren't you afraid of dying, little one?" the deep voice asked, the vibrations so intense that Ethan could feel it in his diaphragm. What startled him, more than anything, was that he could understand it. Direwolves were usually indistinguishable, focused so much on instinct that they never bothered to talk. Ethan's contemplation was interrupted by Rayne's voice.

"I'm already dying... I've just been stabbed. I kind of was hoping for an alternative solution." Fletcher called out. Ethan's eyes widened. He was in a different memory now, the memory of when Artyom had nearly killed Fletcher. This was when he had woken up with Demeas inside him. Ethan watched as Demeas blinked, looking out at Fletcher, his body becoming more visible. Ethan had seen five direwolves in his life, Artyom included, but Demeas was different. He seemed less... monstrous. His fur was soaked in blood, so much that it was almost slimy, but his fur was healthy, his body perfectly proportioned.

"Nick said that a werewolf could loan me his strength, his healing." Fletcher said. Ethan had to chuckle softly, calling the first Keeper such an informal name... but his mirth was ended when Demeas spoke again.

"Oh, we can... In this place we can. The question is, why would we? Humans are good only as food." The shadow wolf replied, licking his lips slowly as if he were about to have a good snack.

"If you're spirits, you can't really eat me... So I'm no good to you as food, but I'm also no good to you dead." Fletcher replied. Once more Ethan saw the debate training in Rayne. Demeas jumped down from the tree limb, landing in the water. Thick muddy ripples headed out in every direction, but even more disturbing was the effect he had on it. Thick, black stains began swirling out in every direction. Ethan's heart raced.

"Rayne, watch out!" He shouted, starting to move forward, but once again his voice died away.

"You must have passed a dozen wolves, even friendly ones. You came to me, you sought me out, didn't you?" Demeas questioned.

"I know this is a gamble, a risk. I need to be sure, I need the strongest wolf to heal me." Fletcher replied. Ethan shook his head.

"No, please..." he whispered, "You're making a deal with the devil."

"Is your hunger to live that strong? Do you spit in the face of death?" Demeas asked curiously, approaching Fletcher more.

"If it was just for me, I don't think death would be that big of a deal... I'm doing this for Marco. I'm going to do whatever it takes to get back to him, and you are going to help me." Fletcher said. Ethan was amazed at Fletcher's gall, his nerve, his dedication... Sure, some of it was not knowing who this wolf really was, but to do it to any alpha. In response to that nerve, Demeas rose up on his hind legs, standing eight feet tall. By this Ethan was most perplexed. He had seen a range of direwolves, some existing as primal feral beasts, others hunched over and lurching around like horror movie creatures... But Demeas was standing like a man.

"What makes you think that you have any right to tell the black alpha, to tell me, what I am going to do?!" Demeas snarled.

"Because I tracked you down, I hunted you to this spot, and I think that without me, you are going to just sit here and rot for the rest of eternity." Fletcher replied. The wolf growled in turn before falling silent, but Ethan gasped. Demeas' tail was wagging slightly, his eyes dilating. He was excited, he liked the plan.

"What is it that you want?" Demeas questioned, sounding as if he was barely invested.

"I want you to give me your healing. I want to be able to protect Marco, to help him." Fletcher said.

"If a keeper brought you here, this Marco must be a werewolf, yes?" The shadow wolf asked. Fletcher nodded slowly and the wolf grinned wide, "And you love him, you love this wolf."

"I do, so the big question, I guess, is what do you want?" Fletcher asked. Demeas hesitated.

"I want... you to protect me too, to help me." Demeas replied.

"How could he possibly help you, you've been dead for thousands of years..." Ethan whispered. Fletcher, too, looked surprised at that.

"What could I do?" he asked simply.

"I think, my pup, you could do a great many things... and I promise I'll give you more than just my healing if you help." Demeas replied. Ethan thought of all the strange things that had happened since Fletcher had healed... Yom accepting him as an alpha, Fletcher understanding Seamus and Marco talking as wolves, even his various affinities when learning how to be a Keeper. Fletcher took a slow breath before he held out his hand to offer the deal. Demeas reached out and took Fletcher's hand in his paw, closing his hand around the human's, tightening it more and more. Fletcher writhed and winced as the wolf's claws began pushing into his skin.

As Demeas pressed his fist tighter, the swamp water rippled and the stained tendrils came wrapping around Fletcher. The tendrils spiraled up his legs, painting his skin, disappearing beneath his tunic before appearing at his mid-riff, shoulders and arms. Demeas looked at the human before he leaned in, nudging his black, wet nose against the human's face. Fletcher resisted, but as the pink tongue probed his lips, they slipped open. Ethan watched the two embrace until Fletcher half gagged, but the way he was sweating, the way his muscles move and his pants shifted, Ethan could tell he was being enthralled. The kiss deepened, Fletcher pressing more into it, so much that he seemed to be pressing into the same space as Demeas... and the shadow wolf was dissolving. Ethan stumbled back, watching in horror as the shadow collapsed into mist and poured into Fletcher, disappearing inside of his lips. The black continued to drain into him before his eyes turned as dark as an eclipse, his body covered in the markings. Fletcher's mouth slowly opened, his pointed tongue sliding over two sharp fangs before he turned right at Ethan and grinned.

A fresh wind began blowing across them, chasing away the smell of the swamp before the trees disappeared like shadows at noon. The terrain rippled beneath them, revealing vast grassy prairies, streams, roads, and then a plateau. The two were lifted up before they were high on the elevated ground, overlooking vast stretches of land. It was all so much for Ethan. Demeas, however, stuck his pants into the pockets of his jeans he'd been wearing in Ethan's memories, strolling over before he sat down on the edge of the cliff.

"You asked what I wanted." Demeas said, looking out at the land beyond him, "I want to live again. I want a second chance."

"You're dead, you're a ghost, a memory, a thought!" Ethan spat. Demeas chuckled at that, using Fletcher's airy laughter.

"Werewolves, vampires, satyrs and sphinxes. We're all the stuff of dreams, of legends, of thought. It used to be all one and the same, back in the age of myth and gods. Beyond the veil... it was a place where anything was possible, where belief was enough. The true curse, the curse my father inflicted on us all, was to be banished from that place along with the humans." Demeas replied. Ethan slowly shook his head.

"You want... to pierce this veil? To get to a place of myth? What if it doesn't exist?" Ethan whispered.

"It does exist, I've been trapped in that limbo for so long... All of us have, even your precious Nyctimus. He thinks he's acting as a guardian, but he's being forgotten, little by little." Demeas growled.

"And if you get to this other place? What would you do? Why should I even believe you?" Ethan whispered.

"Don't you want to see Conrad again? To give your brother a second chance?" Demeas asked. Ethan was silent at that, but his body betrayed his feelings. His trembling muscles, his weakening joints.

"You can't bring someone back from the dead..." Ethan said. Demeas gave another fang filled grin.

"You're looking at the proof I can, and this is just the start. You have in your heart everything we'd need to save your brother." Demeas said.

"I can't trust you, you're the first alpha of the direwolves... The worst of them all." Ethan said, feeling so much doubt. Demeas rolled his eyes in a fashion Fletcher was quite accustomed to.

"You thought it yourself, I'm not like other direwolves, right?" Demeas asked. Ethan said nothing, but it was true. Demeas stood back up and started to pace, "How does he walk like that, how does he talk like that? How does he have such a splendid mastery over the spiritual plane?" Demeas posited, "When the fang and claw clans were born, they weren't all that different. They couldn't be. Nyctimus brought us back from the brink. We were vicious animals and he showed us that being civilized could give us back our humanity, in part..." Demeas explained.

"I know all that..." Ethan murmured.

"Well, we couldn't exactly be heathens or we'd become the beast again, forever and entirely. It started as just a small difference of opinion, a question of how far we were willing to go. The claws saw it as a curse, but the fangs saw it as a gift. This is how we were meant to live... But that's just it, to live... Not to die over and over again." Demeas said.

"You... You were covered in blood! What in the hell are you even talking about?" Ethan asked in mounting shock, "This is some trick, you're trying to ensnare me just like Fletcher!" Ethan shouted. All humor, all joy drained from Fletcher's face, leaving a young man with very deep, dark eyes.

"I am stained by the innocents I killed, the people I hurt... My penance. I was a terrible person until Nyctimus saved me, and I did my best to keep my pack from straying too much, but it is clear from your memory that they've gone too far without my guidance. They've become the unholy monsters we started as with only glimpses of humanity to remind them of what they lost. Ethan, I don't die over and over again... I am in harmony with my wolf. Can you imagine how much safer the world would be if they were too?" Demeas asked.

"I can't trust you, I can't... I can't believe this." Ethan whispered. Demeas started moving toward him.

"Think of your brother, Conrad... Ten days from graduation. He'd be in college with you now, the two of you working side by side." Demeas said.

"Shut up! I don't want this anymore. Go away." Ethan said, closing his eyes. The ground began to tremble, the sky growing troubled. Lightning streaked across it, leaving cracks in the sky. Ethan was using his focus to break the connection bit by bit.

"Ethan, I can help you. Every wolf needs a keeper... Someone to keep their secret, to keep them safe. You've already kept my secret from Fletcher and Marco, why not keep the rest of it?" Demeas whispered softly, leaning in closer, "Be my dark keeper... Take a wolf again, save your brother." Demeas whispered. Ethan opened his eyes slowly.

"I need you to do more than make empty promises. I need you to start acting like someone I can trust." Ethan said. Demeas slowly licked one fang.

"So no mesmerizing fantasy vision where I show you how sexy my dark keeper could be?" Demeas asked. Ethan hesitated for a long moment.

"You... you can do that?" He asked softly. Demeas grinned wider, reaching up a clawed hand. He began to stroke it across Ethan's smooth scalp. Beneath his fingers, Ethan's kinky black hair began pushing out, curling up, growing longer. Ethan felt the mounting weight of it, but it wasn't until the hair started to twist and knot up into dreadlocks that his breathing deepened. The hair got longer and thicker, coming down over his ears, then the nape of his neck before hitting his shoulders. The dreadlocks got thicker, longer, tighter. Ethan closed his eyes, panting, his heart rate climbing.

Ethan could feel his pectorals increasing in size, his muscled arms expanding. Even his chin tingled as a small patch of black hair grew out from his chin. It pushed out an inch, then two, then three before coming down to a vague, fuzzy point. Ethan murmured softly, feeling his fingers throb and tingle as his nails turned black. His eyes snapped open as he felt a sting of pain in his nose, a ring forming through his right nostril. Demeas slowly smiled at that, letting out a wistful sigh.

"Now there is a keeper I wouldn't mind making out with until the wee hours of the morning." He whispered.

"You aren't gay... You had loads of kids." Ethan said, looking at Demeas in doubt.

"Well, I have to admit, this kid's rubbing off on me... There's so much in this new world that fascinates me, though I totally prefer the classic Linkin Park, back when they were so broody. Their new stuff is too experimentative." Demeas smirked.

"This isn't right." Ethan whispered, lowering his head, a cascade of dreads falling across his vision. Demeas reached out, a clawed finger lifting Ethan's head back up so they could look eye to eye.

"In my time, the clans didn't fight, at least not for long. We tried to better ourselves, even if we disagreed on how to do that. You've seen everything now. I saved Fletcher's life and gave him other abilities, now I want to save your brother's life. Will you help me? Will you be my dark keeper?" Demeas asked. Ethan was silent, looking into Demeas' solid black eyes, more conflicted than he had ever been in his life.

****

The morgue at the Echo Creek hospital was quiet, calm, and slightly cramped. The small town had such a low incidence of accidents in general that the facilities were rarely used to full capacity, but the town had recently been shaken by the death of one of its own, Caleb Green. By formality his body was to be examined and the official report updated with the cause of death. The young man's body was sprawled out across the stainless steel table. Without his garments, only the American flag tattoo and his choice of facial hair harkened to his particular lifestyle. He seemed completely normal in almost every way... almost, except for the bite mark on his shoulder.

Doctor Woods moved around, examining the body carefully. His brown hair, streaked with grey, was kept up beneath a surgical cap while his scrubs were a dull and lifeless grey. His right hand scribbled out notes into the medical report regarding improper vehicle restraints, damage to the subject's ribs and kidneys, ruptures to the abdominal wall. He depicted on a diagram where shards of broken glass had cut the patient's shoulders in a curved pattern, no doubt from the angle of impact with the passenger window. Doctor Woods wrote everything out in meticulous detail, but his eyes were distracted, looking at Caleb, thinking to himself what had really happened... and he knew the truth.

The Doctor knew the bite of a wolf, he knew that it could have disastrous consequences. He had been afraid of just such a thing when Artyom had bitten one of his classmates, but this... this was unprecedented. The bite had come from an omega, one that had been a wolf for over a year. That sort of behavior was unacceptable. Doctor Woods thought back to when he had gone to the university, when he had been a wolf on campus. It had been the turn of the millennium, people were excitable and weird was being embraced for the first time... But none of the wolves had done anything to risk their cover. They had done exactly as they were told to.

Wood growled gently under his breath. He didn't like the idea of everything getting out of hand. Echo Creek was one of the rare places in the world where werewolves could live normal lives. They didn't have to be in hiding, they didn't have to be outcasts. They could be in the thick of it all. It was a vital resource, but it was all in jeopardy. Doctor Woods looked at Caleb's body for a long moment before he opened up his tool box. He would have to work on Caleb as if he was extracting pieces of glass from his shoulder. The procedure would mask the nature of the bite marks, throwing any potential hunters off the scent. While the problem had been the omega's fault, Doctor Woods knew that it was in his power to prevent it from spinning out of control any further... and he knew who else could help.

****

The sound of the clock ticking away in the classroom was steady, constant, and occupying a significantly large percentage of Marco's awareness. He sat at his desk in the back of the basement math class under the harsh artificial lights, feeling the cold leaking in through the windows and pooling across the cement floors. His brown eyes surveyed the black, beige walls and the beige cabinets, the white erase board, the gray and white sweatshirts on all the students around him. He heard the clicking of the calculator keys and the scribble of pencils on paper as no one was bold enough to use pen. The sounds of the minutia in the silence were deafening... Marco could feel it building up, more and more, more and more... and then the silence was broken by a sniffle.

Marco inhaled, the breath disturbing the excess mucus filling his sinuses. His morning had brought with it two very unwelcome realizations. The first was that he had forgotten a monumental math final until the last possible moment. The second realization was that werewolves were not completely immune to things like the common cold. Udo had tried explaining that different strains still affected them, and there were some canine colds they could catch, but all of his explanations had bled out into a dull gray haze of slightly fevered confusion. Marco had left the warm embrace of his pack to come try and salvage his grade using his memory alone... and so far it didn't seem to be going well.

Marco had found the class insufferable as a human. The teacher didn't teach, he merely assigned passages from the book and then read out the answers the next day. The grade was based entirely on tests with no interim homework. It was excruciating, and that was before Marco had become the owner of such heightened senses. It had become even more apparent that 'brief calculus' was neither brief, nor any actual example of sentient life. There was no color, no fresh air, no common bond of humanity... and the final was slated to take four hours. It was hell, pure and simple. Marco merely hoped that the rest of his pack were having easier days than he was.

****

The snow crunched beneath Artyom and Udo's shoes as they moved down the path to the back door of Hawkstray hall. With the easy access on the other side by the campus convenient store, few people bothered with what had once been the front door, but for Yom and Udo it felt more in line with what they were there to do. Artyom had on a black leather jacket with a fuzzy fur color, his jeans tight to his legs, a wallet chain hanging down. His beanie cap was tugged tight down over his ears. Udo had put on a leather trench coat that dropped down almost all the way to his heels and came around the side of his legs, seeming quite imposing, especially with the faint hint of the blue flaming skull on the t-shirt he wore beneath the jacket. His platinum blond hair hung down over his ears and most of his vision, though he'd trimmed them a bit before the thanksgiving trip.

"You ready to do this?" Udo asked. Artyom gave a soft nod before he moved forward, swiped his student id card through the slot and moved into the building. Udo followed after. Each dorm on campus had its own personality. Keller hall was for freshman and sophomores, both those who had a leaning toward sports and those who were too undecided in general to move. Hall hall had a more artistic leaning for musicians and painters as well as the upper classmen who wanted nice spacious rooms and little bother. There were a few other smaller dorms catering to the math and sciences, drama, environmental science... None of the focuses were official, it just tended to be the kind of students they drew in... But Hawkstray had no personality. It was an enigma. Students lived there, of course, but there wasn't anything keeping them together. It was a floor shorter than Keller hall and got lost in the view of Echo Creek as a whole. For this reason, and many others, it had become a perfect place for the lower rank wolves of Seamus' pack to live.

Artyom passed by the empty media room, then the empty piano room. Udo followed after as Yom opened up a door to the stairwell and moved in, bathed in yellow light. Udo kept up and the two spiraled their way down before emerging a flow below. The hallway was narrow and awkwardly lit, showcasing the many pipes from the boiler room feeding up through the building. They passed the laundry room and the room that had long ago been the dorm's cafeteria when each building had its own. Their journeys took them all the way to the end where there was another door that simply read 'no admittance' on the sign.

Artyom reached up, ran a finger over the door frame, found a key and brought it down to unlock it. Once the door clicked, the key was returned and he moved in.

Unlike the rest of Hawkstray hall, the utility room had better lighting to it. Full spectrum bulbs showered light through stained glass lamp shades, casting a rainbow of colors across appropriated shag carpeting. The walls showed signs of posters being lovingly taped up and hastily pulled down, leaving blue strips of painter's tape and torn triangle corners of posters. The air was hazy and thick and the reason was clear.

Resting in the center of a room was a rather large metallic contraption, looking almost as if an octopus had been turned into metal. The many legs curled beneath it to make a base while others dipped down and curved back up again. The metal transitioned out to purple hoses, the nylon coating kept in check with a black web of material. Each hose snaked its way around before coming to a simple metal tip designed for easy use in the mouth. At the very center of the device a big purple vessel bubbled away, above which concentrated vapor remained.

While Yom had been looking at the hookah, Udo had been looking at those gathered around it. He recognized Avery, a wolf from the school's rugby team, thought two hispanic young men next to him seemed unfamiliar and one seemed too young to even attend the university... But they fell away as Udo met eyes with Jesse sitting on the other side of the hookah, taking a few puffs before he exhaled, letting the smoke linger around. The other wolves grinned dopey smiles, enjoying themselves. Jesse's amber eyes flashed from Udo to Yom.

"It's been a long time Art, very long." Jesse commented, "What brings you to this neck of the campus?" he asked before moving to take another toke.

"We were in the neighborhood, decided to check in and see how you were doing." Yom said. Udo looked at Yom and then back at Jesse.

"You mean you're here to check up on me as part of my probation?" Jesse asked, "I thought you two weren't part of the pack anymore."

"We're not, and we're not here on Seamus' terms." Yom replied. His eyes strayed to look at the newcomers to the circle. They looked similar, too close really. They had to be brothers... But they seemed innocent enough, like any of the urban kids of echo creek that just hang out in cars, cruising around.

"So who are your friends?" Udo asked. Jesse's eyes drifted over to Udo, giving him a cold, almost unfeeling look before he turned his attention back to Yom.

"If you want to know anything else, you're going to have to join me like old times." Jesse said, taking another puff. The brothers lifted their ends and inhaled, drawing the smoke into their lips and holding it before exhaling. Yom looked at them all, feeling anger at Jesse being so cocky. He wanted to wipe that smug off his immature face, but it didn't take long to realize that rage wasn't just directed at Jesse, it was directed at himself. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd been the one sitting their, encouraging others to join in with him.

"Is that what it'll take to learn more?" Artyom asked. Jesse grinned wide.

"That's what it'll take." He replied. Udo reached out, his hand tightening around Artyom's forearm.

"Marco would never support this... He had to save your life that last time." Udo whispered. That did give him pause. Marco was a rather clean cut alpha. Unlike everyone else their age, Marco didn't even drink coffee, let alone alcohol. Between his upbringing and job on campus safety, Marco wasn't keep on drugs either. Yom looked back at Udo.

"He wanted to know how things leveled out. It's either participate, or threaten to beat them to a bloody pulp." Yom whispered back.

"Don't tempt me..." Udo murmured, thinking of everything that had happened in his life because of Jesse, good and bad... But there was one inescapable fact. Jesse had turned Udo into a werewolf, and if he hadn't had that change, he never would have become one of Marco's lovers or found family for the first time in his life. Udo gave a long and lingering sigh before he moved over and sat himself down between the rugby player and Rafael.

"Well then, where do you want to start?" Yom asked, moving to take a seat himself.

****

Marco's eyes focused on the paper before him, scanning through page after page of graphite coated scrawls. Arbitrary lines zig zagged down, cordoning off segments of mathematical proofs before they careened into one another and made an unholy mess. Marco had been through the test three times already to double check, making a few corrections, but as he scanned the last question, he knew he could do no more. Marco quietly turned his calculator off and slid the cover over, returned his pencil to rest between his ear and the knit black beanie cap he had on before he stood and moved to the front of the class. Dropping the paper down on the professor's desk, he turned and moved for the exit.

Facing the class, Marco could see that only a third of the class had finished already and left before him. This concerned him as he knew he wasn't that good of a student, but pass or fail, he could do no more. Marco opened the door and eased it open, slipping out into the hallway. The door shut behind him, leaving Marco alone in the depths of the sciences building.

The hallways were warm, the heaters rattling along with occasional pops and clicks. It had started raining outside as well, the rain drops audible from the doors, filling the stairwells with noise. It all felt faintly pleasant. Marco moved over to one of the antique wooden benches outside the geology classrooms and sat down, looking into the display case. Numerous examples of mineral salts and crystals were on display. Marco enjoyed looking at them quite a bit, but what he found himself looking at instead was his reflection.

He had come to college a clean cut, short haired islander. Now he looked very different. His hair was long and shaggy, his beard was dark and a bit bushy... It didn't make him stand out from the other students necessarily, as Colorado naturally fostered the mountain man aesthetic, but it was still different from how he had looked his entire life. Marco wondered if he should shave for his pending trip back to Hawaii for Christmas, lessen the burden on them... but the idea of bringing up becoming a werewolf was overwhelming no matter what he looked like.

Marco slowly leaned back onto the wooden bench, laying down. The warmth of the heaters was nice, the sound of the rain comforting. Marco promised himself that he'd only rest a bit after the test, but with the stress of that behind him and his cold weighing him down, his mind began to retreat quickly. The feeling of the bench faded away, his senses fell in on themselves and soon Marco was out cold.

The young man's chest rose and fell with his breathing, his sniffles subsiding bit by bit. His consciousness drifted in a dark blackness for a long moment before the first faint images of dreams started to puncture through. Light and dark, claustrophobic closeness and glimpses of open spaces. The images clarified bit by bit into limbs, tightly packed tree limbs and branches and twigs. Marco was running through the trees at break neck speeds, his breath coming out in thick steam, but he wasn't alone.

Marco glanced over his shoulder and spotted Artyom, his eyes a vivid and surreal turquoise blue, his hair tightly corded back into corn row braids. By his side was someone Marco had never seen before, a man in his mid twenties, his dirty brown hair tied back into a very loose top knot, stray hairs hanging all around his face and down his neck. What stood out the most, though, was the purple rectangle of pigment crossing his face. The man stopped suddenly and lifted a bow, drawing it back. In that moment Marco felt fear, the fear of betrayal, of carnal trepidation that he didn't fully understand... and in that moment, Marco knew what the man was... a hunter.

A sudden click of a door near in the hallway jarred Marco from his slumber. He gasped and nearly fell off the bench, looking around before he saw one of his classmates leaving. They hesitated, looking at Marco with unshielded confusion before they moved past, heading for the door. Marco watched the student pull up his hood before heading out the doors into the rain. Marco hesitated for a long moment before he groaned, reaching up to rub at his face with his hands.

****

Udo's eyes took everything in curiously, feeling the weight of the situation directly contrasted the calm, comfortable atmosphere that was no doubt the norm around the hookah. Avery seemed to be keeping the hookah functioning, meticulously checking the bowl and the plate, even the gasket while the others partook. Udo watched as the Rafael lifted the hose he held, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips and inhaled, savoring the flavor. His eyes glimmered yellow for a moment as he closed them.

In moments Rafael's body seemed to be struggling between the human and the wolf. One ear stretched into a point ahead of the other before the two matched up. His fingernails throbbed and darkened, and fuzz began pushing out of his cheeks, trailing down slowly. Udo was unaccustomed to the wolf being brought out in such a way. He'd always seen it as an extension of emotions. Udo looked over at Artyom uncertainly. Sensing his packmate's nervousness, Yom looked over at Udo and then at Rafael.

"The small amount of wolf's bane in the mixture causes an allergic reaction, our enhanced immune system tries to fight it off." He said gently.

"What a dry, scientific way to put it." Jesse commented, taking a puff himself, "Then again you never seemed to like the gift I gave you in the first place, Udo."

"I didn't like being forced into it, tricked into it, used to promote you in the pack... I have nothing against the wolf in me, but I wonder which part of it led you to do what you did." Udo said, "Or why you thought you could do it again with these boys."

"There's a difference though, Udo... Isn't that right Andy?" Jesse asked. A bright smile crossed Andres' lips as he leaned over against Jesse's knee.

"I'm glad Jesse gave us the bite... I never could have realized how good it was going to be." He said with a warm smile before lifting his own hose up, inhaling. He held the smoke before blowing it out of his nostrils, feeling his own wolf pushing back against the smoke. His chest broadened, his muscles tightening, his nose flattening a bit.

"But what about your family, your friend?" Udo asked, "Your friend that died..."

"Of course it is sad, but what happened to Caleb isn't Jesse's fault. Jesse tried to give him this gift, to make his life better... It just didn't work, Caleb had bad genetics." Rafael said. Udo's eyes widened sharply.

"It IS his fault, he died because Jesse bit him! On a full moon no less." Udo replied. Andres and Rafael seemed disinterested, enjoying their smoking. Yom slowly lifted the hose he held to his lips, taking a long drag, holding it before he exhaled. The smoke spilled from his lips and curled about his face with a practiced grace. Jesse's bravado faltered slightly as he watched Yom, blushing faintly, his eyes averting. He'd spent a long time with Yom as a superior wolf in his pack, feeling lucky to be around him. Yom continued to puff, though his wolf features didn't seem to emerge. Udo turned, looking at Jesse, realizing that he hadn't turned any further since they had arrived either.

"Aren't you going to ask any questions Artyom?" Jesse asked. A small cheshire like grin crossed Yom's lips.

"I think Udo's doing an alright job so far. I'm just keeping up my end of the deal." Yom replied. Jesse's brow furrowed.

"It shouldn't have had to be a deal, you should want to do this, to be here..." Jesse said. Yom smirked.

"When I was here before, I didn't want to be here... Why do you think I did something so dangerous? I've grown up Jesse, I have more important things to think about... and so do you. You've got a huge world of threats and hopes to think about, not just how you're going to get by day by day, not who you're going to bed down with at night." Yom said.

"Fucker..." Jesse cursed, leaning forward.

"Hey now, you're harshing the buzz..." Avery muttered from where he was, taking a drag himself. Jesse looked around before looking back at Artyom.

"But we had so much fun here, it was different, the pack didn't matter... Look at how cool you are, how cool you were." Jesse whispered. Yom softened a bit at that.

"Back then I didn't think the pack mattered, that's true. I was careless. I turned Marco irresponsibly, I put my life on the line with this, but I know there's more to life out there. I've spent more time with the Keepers, with humans, with my classes. I know that I need to make an impact on the world and not just survive it. Jesse, you need to do the same. You need to get your act together so things can be better for everyone." Yom explained before taking a puff on his mouth piece.

"That's so easy for you to say... You've got your new pack, your close family... I'm lost in a sea of wolves, dozens of them all vying for attention and prowess...." Jesse said.

"This is a college pack, a pack of convenience. Four years... It's the longest that they are together... Seamus will graduate, someone else will take over, then they'll graduate. Even if you were the omega for four years, you'd move on, you'd get a real pack... but this is the only time you have to make yourself a better person." Yom said.

"You don't know what they had the twins do to me... to punish me for this." Jesse whispered, looking at Raf and Andres who seemed to be doting on his every word.

"You made a mistake, you were punished, and now its time to move on and grow up." Yom said. Jesse's lip curled slightly in a faint growl but the growl faded and his head lowered. Even in another pack, Artyom seemed quite dominant.

"The keepers... offered to try and help Rafael and Andres, but they resisted because I resisted." Jesse said softly.

"Help them do what?" Udo asked, "They can't cure them of lycanthropy..."

"No, but they could help them find themselves." Jesse said softly.

"But we like who we are, we like who you made us!" Andres said.

"We love you Jesse." Rafael added. Jesse's eyes dropped to the floor again. Udo looked at Jesse and then at the brothers, considering for a long moment before he brought the hose to his lips and carefully inhaled. The smoke was spicy and nutty, smelling of tobacco and spices, but somewhere deep in the smoke was an alkali smell. Something about it sent chills down Udo's spine. He could feel his body tingle and burn, his lungs especially, trying to fight it off... and in the midst of all that, he felt a rush, a rush of his wolf fighting to get out. His ears tingled and stretched, his cheeks grew fuzzy and the blond in his hair started to fade as streaks of white appeared. Udo exhaled the smoke out and panted for a few fresh breaths before he looked at the others.

"I can see why you do this... For that rush. I used to go hard core Goth for the same reason, to feel the charge of people's attention. I wanted to be noticed, to be seen, but I was so distracted by that and forgot to look into myself." Udo said to Jesse before looking at the brothers, then back, "We know their wolves love you, but its something else entirely if you can be the kind of person all of them will love."

"Earn their forgiveness, then their trust, then their respect." Artyom added, taking one last drag on the hookah, holding it before he exhaled and put it down.

"Why... did you come here?" Jesse whispered softly, "U thought you'd gloat, or... try to punish me." Jesse said softly. Udo shook his head.

"We just want to be safe again, to live without fear of the hunters or rogue wolves... If you have a happy life, and live well, then there's less to worry about." Udo said. Jesse looked at Udo with a growing expression of suspicion.

"No one's that good, no one's that selfless." Jesse said.

"Then you haven't gotten to know my alphas." Yom replied.

"Alphas? Two?" Jesse asked softly. Yom grinned wider at that.

****

Ethan moved around his dorm room, cleaning up the mess and neglect that had been left in his mourning. He'd folded up his flags and put them away, making a stack of dishes he had to take back to the cafeteria. He'd been turned in on himself for too long and it was time to get back on track. Ethan reached for his backpack but froze as there was a pounding at his door. Ethan's heart raced a bit before he moved over and opened it up. Standing on the other side was Fletcher, wrapped in a long scarf, his glasses low on his nose and his hat tilted back, a fringe of hair sticking out the front. Fletcher tilted his head a bit.

"Oh dude, sorry, did I wake you? I... I'm sorry, I was just wondering if you wanted to go over the discussion points for our debate final and humanities paper." Fletcher said. Ethan looked at Fletcher hesitantly, having been ruminating over him for the past several hours.

"How long have you been up?" Ethan asked.

"Me? Oh, uh, I guess about two hours. I guess I slept in with this cold that's going around, but when I got up the boys were out and about so I thought I'd get some studying in, after breakfast of course. Well, lunch, they stopped serving breakfast at ten." Fletcher said. Ethan stood there, dumbfounded for a long moment.

"Sure... Let's study." He said. Fletcher flashed a wide grin, clapping an arm around Ethan's shoulders.

"Thanks man, now let's rock this." He beamed happily, moving to plop himself down on one of the chairs. Ethan looked at the young man in his room, the man that held such an ancient dark spirit, the man that had the promise of resurrecting his brother locked deep away beneath the shell of a trendy hipster. It seemed preposterous, but then again miracles always were.