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They were setting out from New Port Richey, Florida, that night.

After that Halloween, Camp Lycaon had been open for only a few more weeks, enough for the newly-converted juniors to learn how to transform at will, survive in the wilderness, and their new family history (complete with basic introduction to ancient Greek and pack/court manners).

Most importantly of all, though, had been the lesson that they would be packing up and sneaking away to a more secure location for their plans. When the juniors had expressed shock and tried to protest, Lycaon had cut them down.

"You weren't culled because you could leave this camp and go back to your old lives," he stiffly explained. "You were culled because your true place is here. You would not have been selected for this family if that was not so. Why do you think there are so few of you? We sent out many more letters than a mere twenty, but only the best were chosen. Halloween did not make you into my werewolf children: it unmasked you as such."

After that, even Grant had found it hard to speak against his new father. Lycaon, even without a kingdom, was still a king, and he was the alpha male; the former human succumbed to his baser instincts in the face of the wolf-headed man.

That wasn't to say it was all bad: despite the pain of having to cut ties, the juniors acclimated well enough to being werewolves. They felt more alive than before (though this was partly attributed to the newness of their conditions); they were learning some amazing things; the seniors and Lycaon truly did care for them, even if they could be a little stiff-lipped sometimes; and the sex--oh man, the sex!

That most of the juniors had been straight as arrows before Halloween night didn't stop them from ducking around the corners of cottages or slipping into their cabin mates' beds or performing hand jobs at meals or playing footsie. While a lot of it was done while in human form, things only became intense when they went lupine. It was easy enough to see why, with their bodies taking on exciting and exotic new looks and enhancing their attractiveness.

Because of that, Grant was painted with the proverbial bull's-eye. His hyena nature was shared only by Jo, which made them unique among the pack, and since Jo was rarely giving out sex, most of the camp turned their eyes to the male instead. He did what he could to turn away their advances, politely telling them "No" and at tenser times running away. He wasn't always successful, as evidenced by the time Cara managed to trick him into trying on a uniform, jumping him when he was in the middle of changing.

The strangest part was that Jo didn't yell at him or accuse him of cheating, which was what he suspected she would do after his first affair. Of course, he really should have seen her wrath coming, especially in the form of rough sex that same night. She had again gone dominatrix on him, using spreader bars, arm-binding sleeves, a ball gag, and a riding crop.

"I'm not mad at you," she had explained. "I know you're going to have sex with some of the others here and there, and I have and will myself sometimes. But every time you screw someone who isn't me, I'm gonna dom you; I expect you to return the favor when I fool around."

Grant figured it must have been a kind of balance, that the monotonous nature of wolves had a stand-still going with the more free-wheeling nature of man. Nonetheless, moods struck him and sometimes Jo would get frisky with others--she seemed fond of double blow jobs--and Grant would take charge of the relationship for a bit, growling in her ear to do what she was told or else he'd give it to her. To his surprise and satisfaction, she submitted, and even (though only rarely) playfully resisted until he affirmed his dominance.

And that was the way things continued for twelve days, until Father informed them they were packing up and leaving for safer territory. They packed their belongings and loaded them into SUVs, the buildings and general camp items to be "handled by professional associates." It took what felt like ages before they reached New Port Richey, with them roughing it at several points and setting up an ersatz wagon circle in several roadside clearings and rest stops along the way.

It was just after seven o'clock when they pulled into town, the vehicles parking at a shabby-looking motel with a steadily-blinking sign. Several of them began to wonder why they didn't pick a less ugly place, and certainly the motel had a suspicious air to it, but Lycaon silenced their protests.

"The owner is an affiliate of ours. We're lodging until half past eleven, and then setting out for the docks."

Grant, Matt, Arnold, and a handful of others left the motel, spreading out to get a quick meal; Matt and Arnold picked a joint that looked like Popeyes, but Grant had declined their invitation, drawn to a diner down the street.

When he entered, the place was quiet but inhabited, less than ten other occupants. He took a seat next to a perhaps middle-aged woman at the bar. Her blonde hair very wavy and pulled back into a large bun, her fair complexion perfect, and her attire was a blouse that blended blue, green, and purple and a pair of cream-colored slacks. She didn't react to him taking the stool next to her, but when he started to raise his hand for the waitress, she spoke.

"Good of you to heed my call, Grant." Her voice was deep, soft, and smooth, everything a mother or favorite aunt could sound like.

Bewildered, he turned to her, but she didn't look up from the menu. "Excuse me? Who are you, and how do you know my name?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Oh, I know the names of all of my husband's enemies, and their offspring." She put down the menu and turned her eyes to him. She had brown eyes, very soft and warm. "I assure you that I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to make you a proposal."

Grant looked at her suspiciously. "I think I should leave."

"Before you do, why don't you look at the diner's far end there?" she pointed.

The young man looked--and felt his stomach drop out. Seated in a booth were two people that, for just a moment, appeared to be his mother and father, but when he blinked and leaned forward, he realized the man and woman only slightly resembled his parents. He wiped a thin layer of sweat from his brow as his breathing grew normal again.

"I apologize for that small fright," the woman said, "but I really must speak with you. You see, Grant, the figure that you call your new father is, to be frank, a beast masquerading as a man. He used an enchanted invitation to force your parents to send you into his clutches; he used brainwashed children to infect your friends and peers with a vicious disease; and his most abused victim was made to afflict you with particular cruelty.

"While I have little doubt that there's some small spark of genuine affection in your heart for the young lady, the fact of the matter is that you are being used. The Wolf King has produced many other werewolves and a good number of other creatures by rutting, biting, and otherwise spreading his curse. Like yourself, humans have been forced to abandon their normal lives and have in turn contaminated their fellows, either by bite or, as in your case, rape. Oh, yes, I know what happened on Halloween. The others are largely in the dark, but I have eyes and ears in a few places that catch things here and there.

"Now, I'm willing to help you, my boy. Since I know it'll be hard to wrench yourself from your enslaver's grip, I'm going to give you a bit of leeway and let you think this over for a bit. I'm even willing to accept a misstep or two if need be." She paused to fix him with a penetrating stare. "What I want from you is information. The Wolf King is obviously planning something huge, and while knowing those details is nice, I need to know anything and everything about his connections. Big plans require big help, and I know your imitation father didn't himself craft the bewitched letters; he hasn't the capability for magic."

Grant swallowed. "You want me...to spy for you?"

She nodded. "Precisely. Certainly what I ask of you is difficult, because you've never done it before and because you're surrounded by very deadly creatures, but I wouldn't be propositioning you if I felt you weren't up to the challenge. You must learn all you can and pass it along to me."

It was becoming hard to use his voice. "Why? Why do you need_me_ for this? Why not just use your own spies?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "The camp was not so well protected as where you're going now. I need someone on the inside, not just someone who can sneak inside."

She reached into her pants' pocket and withdrew a business card, giving it to him. On its pristine white surface were a peacock's silhouette and the woman's name, title, and address: Hera, Queen of the Gods, Mount Olympus.

"Just secret yourself away in a quiet, secluded spot and pray to me," she instructed. "Don't mention any of the others, or you'll get their attention, too, and we don't want that." She placed her hand upon his, sending a jolt through him, astonishment that turned to comforting warmth. "In exchange for your help, I will cure you of your ailment, do the same for your lover, and you will be returned to your old life; the girl can be a surprise romance to impress your parents with. Naturally, you will both be under my protection."

Grant stared at her and then the card, and then back again, barely able to comprehend just what was happening. Either misinterpreting or not caring, Hera bulled on.

"I should probably let you go now, before suspicion sets in. And don't worry about being hungry; you'll find yourself refreshed once you step outside."

She turned back to her menu and ignored him, muttering something about the diner's distinct lack of both nectar and ambrosia.

Sensing that she had finished with him, Grant slid off the stool and left the diner. When he stepped outside, he found that he wasn't hungry or thirsty or the least bit fatigued; Hera must have done something to refresh him, maybe an aftereffect of their physical contact.

He returned to the motel to find that Jo had decided to catch a few Zs on the bed. A glance at the clock told him he'd only been gone for an hour. He took a seat on the nightstand, watching the female werehuman sleep in her camp uniform.

Had Hera been telling the truth? Grant could believe that, since her husband, Zeus, had cursed Lycaon into a man-beast, the Queen of the Gods had the power to remove such afflictions; it would be entirely expected of a god to possess such power. In Jo's case, however, it would mean creating a permanent curse, since her natural form was a hyena. And while being human again would make things less complicated in his life, Grant couldn't say that it would be the same for his girlfriend, or that being a were was in and of itself burdensome.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea of betraying his new family became absurd. Lycaon was no saint, Grant knew, but Hera's portrayal was one of ruthless disregard for others and of a monster pretending to be a man. Yet in the short while that Grant had known him, Lycaon had been firm but sincere, not cruel and duplicitous. The seniors had used force to convert them, but something in Grant's heart kept him from wanting to rage at their actions. While he could theorize that his hesitation was due to the effects of the bewitched letter, he seriously felt that was the wrong direction, and he likewise knew that he wasn't so madly in love with Jo or terrified of Lycaon or traumatized by the sexual antics to misjudge the situation.

No, Grant decided, Hera was completely and utterly full of it. She'd openly and remorselessly tricked him with that brief vision of his parents, and he had little doubt that she was not sorry in the least for the deaths Zeus had caused. People like her always put their pride before anyone else's wellbeing.

The young man gently took hold of Jo's hand, feeling the girl's reflexive squeeze. I'll figure a way out of this, he thought. Gods aren't infallible.

**************************************************************************

They got to the docks at ten of midnight, with the campers boarding a luxurious yacht and promptly setting off. The SUVs would be collected by more "professional associates." According to the captain of the craft, it would take until morning to reach their destination.

"Really?" Matt gaped. "I mean, it's not like my ass could fall asleep any more, but really?"

"We can wake your ass up," Kyle grinned, clapping the smaller boy on the shoulder.

"Oh yeah, definitely," Tyler smirked. "Woke you up good the last time, didn't we?"

A bunch of them laughed as Matt blushed.

"We're heading into the center of the Mexican Gulf," Jo explained. "Or near enough to it, anyway. The ship's protected, so don't worry about us being stopped by authorities or boarded by pirates. Anyone tries to bother us, regret is all they receive."

Lycaon chuckled darkly. "That's one way of putting it."

For the most part, they kept inside the yacht, the cold sea air making sure that, even with their wolves' coats, the bite of the ocean could not be ignored. While most of the others found a spot to lay, intent on sleeping through the trip, a few had decided to get in some fun; Felix and Terry were even engaging in a race to see who could blow one of their brothers faster.

Grant's hand slipped into his pocket and he felt Hera's card. He still needed to tell Father about the conversation in the diner, and the longer he waited, the more difficult it could become to prevent any harm from befalling them.

He made his way up to the command room, finding both Lycaon and Jo there, the former arguing with the captain.

"My liege, I am sorry, but there are no 8-track players on this vessel," the captain was explaining. "You will have to at least give me a CD if you want to listen to your music."

"But the quality is peerless on 8-tracks!" Lycaon was insisting.

Swallowing his nerves, Grant approached the wolf-headed man. "Father, how well is this ship protected?"

The larger male looked at him curiously. "Well enough for our needs. Why?"

Grant leaned in and whispered, "I think we're being spied upon."

Lycaon's expression turned dark, his eyes gleaming. "Is that so?" He turned to Jo. "Have key siblings keep an eye out for anything unusual. They'll have my permission to rest completely once we've reached safe port."

Jo nodded and, after a peck on her mate's cheek, disappeared down the stairs.

Before the young man could begin, the old king gestured sharply. "Don't speak of it. If we are being watched by unwanted eyes, then we need to get to protected grounds before loosening our tongues. I assure you, once we've made it to our destination, I will hear you out in full, but for now say nothing."

Grant nodded.

"Good. Now, I suggest you either get some shut-eye, or have some fun. You may want the sleep, because I'm sure you'll appreciate our stop quite a bit."

As the werehyena left, Lycaon used the intra-comm system to demand that Colton procure an 8-track player at first opportunity.

****************************************************************************

While Grant was busy with his one-sided conversation, Felix and Terry were carrying on. The boys had shifted into wolf form, taking each a furless brother into their muzzles.

Felix loved it. That first night, all four of them had gone at it almost until three in the morning, the cabin's interior splattered with the proof of their satisfaction. After, it had been so easy, so liberating, to be open about himself, mating with a good number of his fellow werewolves. He'd also found that being in wolf form noticeably heightened his pleasure, his cock doubling in sensitivity and his tailhole able to take a generously-sized rod.

Right now, though, he was focused entirely on the cock in his muzzle, his wolf's tongue caressing the other boy's prick. Felix figured if he could actually drive his pack-brother to shift on top of getting his seed, then he'd really win the race.

"Uuuuhhh!" the other human-form lycanthrope groaned, his head rolling back onto the cushions of the couch. Terry was gaining ground.

Not wanting to risk loss, Felix doubled his speed. His head bobbed up and down his brother's shaft at insane speeds, his tongue working at a different pace as it wildly tickled the cock of the hour.

The receiving male's face tightened, his breathing shortening. "Gonna--! Gonna--!" he rasped.

Felix tried to pick up the pace even more, hoping to really send his friend over the edge, but the boy grabbed his head and crammed it into his crotch, his cock reaching to the back of the Latino wolf's throat.

The phallus belched its load, the thick jizz shooting down into Felix's stomach, trails of it lining his esophagus. Felix swallowed reflexively, coaxing a bit more of the delicious substance from the tool. Behind him, his tail wagged happily.

"Damn it!" the other boy cursed. Terry had momentarily frozen to watch Felix enjoy his reward, but was forced to resume his ministrations when his own partner's hands grabbed his head. The seated boy began to roughly use Terry.

The wolf's eyes rolled up a bit; he was being treated like a cock sleeve, and the pleasure he was giving was little enough that the forced blowing would be lengthy, but he was obviously enjoying it.

Felix returned his attention to cleaning off his brother's cock.

****************************************************************************

They arrived a little after nine the next morning. The ship was no worse for wear, aside from carrying a tired, aching private army of werewolves. The fifty of them disembarked while Lycaon apologized to the captain for the crew needing to clean up a few splashes of bodily fluids here and there.

The yacht had been moored to a spacious stone harbor, the gray blocks trimmed and pristine. From the docks, the campers hauled their luggage along a wide path also made of stone, many admiring the crystal blue waters and white sand beach. The path became a long series of steps up a hillside, the white sand replaced with lush tropical vegetation. During the hike, Grant wanted to tell Lycaon about Hera, but hesitated, his gut telling him not yet.

The island had a cool breeze, refreshing and uplifting the weres from their exhaustion. Because it wasn't hot or humid, nearly all of them opted to shift into their lupine forms, opting to "let the fur hang out." Grant and Jo did the same, and the former felt relieved by the act, his spirits rekindled a bit as he felt more like himself.

At the top of the climb, waiting patiently for them, was a group of females. Grant wondered if they were all were-creatures like the campers, but thought it rude to ask. Aside from the woman standing in the center and slightly forward, clearly in charge, they were all anthros, ranging from aquatics and scalies to furries and avians.

The leader, however, kept a human appearance, her skin as richly tanned as Lycaon's. Black hair cascaded in large bounties down past her shoulders, styled in elegant waves, the lochs to the left of her face even having small golden rings strung into them. She wore a pleated silk chiton of emerald, trimmed with silver, and sandals. Her dark green eyes glittered and a smile tugged at her lips as Lycaon and his family politely bowed. If Grant had to compare her to someone, it would easily be Sofia Vergara.

"Lady Circe," Lycaon greeted. "It's good to see you again. You are in good health?"

"I am," she replied, her own accented voice smooth as melted chocolate. "And it's wonderful to see you again as well. How have things been? I see that you've brought your family back to its old numbers."

The Wolf King gave a growl of pride. "Yes, and they're shaping up to be respectable, even if they can't keep their hands to themselves."

Circe gestured to the island's valley behind her. "Shall we continue inside? I'm sure your sons and daughters are quite in need to regain their land legs."

"I don't know about some of you, but I'm back in my ancestral habitat," Arnold cracked. "My ancestors were islanders, and I'll be damned if I'm not an islander by default."

"Dude, you're from Georgia, not Cuba," Matt spoke.

Arnold waved a dismissive hand. "Man, that's close enough."

Circe chuckled. "Well, all the same, you all have mostly free leave to explore the entire island. Certain areas are marked off for your safety and our security, and I must insist you respect us by not entering those areas; the guards will be most displeased. That said, King Lycaon, let's get some drinks and talk privately."

"Grant, Jo," the bestial man said sharply, snapping his son and daughter to attention, "attend us."

"Yes, Father," they both replied.

As the quartet moved off down a shaded path, the other forty-eight weres broke into a run, eager to check out their temporary home.

********************************************************************************

Circe's private villa was lavish and open, resembling an ancient Greek abode, and the four took seats around a table. Each was more of a love seat than a chair, and with ultra-comfy cushions, the frames (and indeed, virtually all of the furniture and architecture) carved from variously-colored marble.

As she sipped from her drink (all were served in a coconut with a little umbrella, naturally), Circe asked, "So, O Fanged One, which shall we go over first? I've readied the reports from all departments, so you needn't wait for anything you've a fancy for."

Lycaon held up a hand. "Grant here actually expressed to me that there may be a spy watching us. Son?"

And so Grant explained, telling them everything he could about Hera and how she'd mentioned spies at the camp and her desire for Grant himself to leak information. The entire time, Circe watched him with an unreadable expression. The young man, having learned back at the camp to avoid the gods' names so as to not catch their ears, used Hera's title during his report.

When he'd finished, he took a drink, trying his best to ignore the pained and worried look from Jo.

"The Cow-Eyed Goddess," Circe said at last. "She's called that because of the gentle look her eyes give off, you know. I wouldn't have suspected her involvement. I don't suppose she gave a hint as to her little helper? No, I didn't think she would. All the same, we're fairly heavily warded. Being a sorceress and inclined to experimentation, I've devised a hefty security suite." Her lip twisted. "Too bad I didn't have it when that philandering ninny Odysseus dropped in. Shouldn't have made things so good for him, turning his men into lusting beasts and all."

"Beasts?" Grant blinked. "I thought you turned men into swine, pigs and all that?"

Circe laughed. "No, not often, actually. Some get morphed into pigs and hogs and boars, but many are wolves and foxes and lions, and a great many more than that. Even the poems have verses of my collection of tame beasts, striking visiting human men as being strangely friendly." A small smile. "I don't expect your siblings to refrain from passionate engagements for very long, given the promiscuous nature of both our groups."

"But the Queen," Jo pressed. "From what Grant said, she isn't likely to come herself, but she probably stacked the deck and sent her own agent to make sure she gets all the data she's after."

Circe's smile became wide and appreciative. "Ah, very astute of you, young lady. No, she isn't in all likelihood coming down to our humble abode, but I doubt she'd send her best asset, that weirdo Argus--"

"Who?" Grant interrupted.

Lycaon irritably waved a hand. "A giant with a hundred eyes, whom the Queen of Heaven used as a servant, typically a guardian. The Thief God slew him."

Grant nodded and kept his trap shut as Circe resumed.

"Anyway, she won't send him, because he'd stand out like the sorest thumb, and the Queen will need him to defend against retaliation. Given that she was tugging at your heartstrings with her offer of clemency, I'm willing to wager that that love-doling prick will be asked to meddle with my island."

"Love? You mean--?" Grant said, and held his hands up as if gripping his own set of invisible breasts.

Circe was barely able to refrain from laughing. "No, no, my boy, I mean her subordinate, the one who gets all the attention on Valentine's Day. He's a bit more hands-on, less subtle and sophisticated and far more easily bent to purpose than his mistress." She turned her gaze upon Jo, whose eyes narrowed as the sorceress stared at her with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I really must congratulate you, Jo."

"Excuse me?"

"For your good fortune in finding such a good boy," the older woman explained. "Oh, he needs to polish his sense of history and tweak his manners a bit, but I can tell you two will make a great couple. You'll have to send me photos of your puppies."

"Do you want progressive pregnancy pictures as well, for a timeline?" Lycaon asked. "I hear timelines are all the rage now."

Jo, her face glowing red, dropped her head into her hands. "Father!"

"What! What!" the man defended himself. "I'm allowed to want grandchildren!"

Jo was so red that it was hard to take her seriously when she pleaded for a change of subject.

"Perhaps we should shift talks," Circe agreed. "Am I to assume that you'll be polishing up your warriors' skills while here?"

Lycaon nodded. "I have thirty that need further training, and twenty that need the works. The latter I gained less than two weeks ago, so they have virtually no experience in war."

"War?" Grant interrupted. "We're being trained as soldiers? Why?"

Neither Lycaon nor Circe answered, exchanging looks.

"He's your son; you tell him," the sorceress said before imbibing her drink again.

Scowling, the wolf-man turned to Grant and explained, "I've already told you about my past, and in the time since, I and others have worked out an alliance to seek justice for the wrongs carried out against us by the gods and their fanatical 'heroes.' In short, yes, you're being trained as soldiers for war, albeit against gods." When the young man's face fell, Lycaon frowned. "Buck up. You swore yourself into this family and to my cause. Did you think that a few days in the woods and some court and culture lessons were all that entailed?"

"How do you expect us to fight gods?" Grant countered. "I'm just a guy!"

He froze, his burst of nerve vanishing at the steely, commanding eyes Lycaon was boring into him with. When the Wolf King spoke, Grant found it impossible to ignore even a single syllable.

"A 'guy'? You have not been a mere mortal for nearly a fortnight. When you partook of my daughter, you partook of me. You may not be a wolf as your other siblings, but you are a were, and you are my son in magical bond. Did you think that my mention of men and women seeking strength and courage were nothing more than tales of sexual conquests? In becoming my son, you became like them, changed into stronger and bolder fiber. It seems you've yet to fully awaken your natural instincts, but you will embrace a grander life with challenges and accomplishments more than you ever thought possible. When you've come to your senses, you'll see that simply being a man is not what you are."

Grant stared, unable to avert his eyes, even after Lycaon turned back to Circe. On his other side, Jo seemed torn between shock and horror, as if she couldn't decide whether the argument bewildered her more or if it frightened her. Shaking her head, she rose from her seat and marched past Grant, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him away.

When they'd gone, Lycaon sank deeper into his chair, his features softening, as if a heavy weight had been foisted upon him.

"...He's my son," he said finally.

"Perhaps one of your best," Circe said approvingly. "You have to stop beating yourself up, Lycaon. If you don't let go of the past, you won't be able to step into the future."

"I'm trying. By all that is good in the world, I am trying."

She leaned forward and placed a hand over his. "I know it's very difficult, even after all this time, but you have to leave behind these old feelings of yours. You couldn't save them, and you can't replace them. You have a new family, and you may yet achieve justice for what the gods have done, but that won't bring back the dead. See and love the present for what it is, not what it was."

He offered no response save a heavy sigh.

*******************************************************************************

"What the hell was that?!" Jo demanded.

They were at the edge of Circe's villa, the werehuman looking as if she was actually going to hit her lover. For his part, Grant matched her gaze; against Lycaon's he had been weak, but against Jo's he stood his ground.

"Jo, I care about you, I do, or else I wouldn't have mentioned a thing about the diner, but what--" He stopped, and consciously forced himself to use the right word. "--but what Father wants to do...it scares me. What the Queen did to me, fixing me up with barely a touch so that I didn't feel hungry or thirsty or tired, and that they have the power to transform or curse or whatever to people is something I don't feel comfortable about."

Jo sighed angrily. "Of course you don't feel comfortable about it: they are extremely powerful beings with absolutely no moral sincerity. They do things on whims at every turn." She paused to jab a finger at him. "But what upsets me isn't you standing up to Father about your reservations on fighting something vastly stronger than yourself, it's that you didn't tell me at the motel. You could have woken me up and told me instead of keeping it a secret."

"I only kept it quiet for all of the time it took to reach the yacht and set out," he defended himself. "I tried to tell you on the yacht, but Father said to wait. It was even the first thing we talked with Circe about."

"I know, it's just..." Jo sighed, running a hand over the top of her head and through her mane. "Grant, it means more than you can imagine to me that you're in my life. I _love_you. Ever since Father restarted the family, I had no one who loved me as a mate, an equal. Having sex with the others is one thing, but I've never gotten the feeling that any of them were the one I wanted. I'm dominant, I know, being an alpha female, but I wanted someone who would share my life with me, not simply be a part of my life. When you came along, it felt amazing to have someone who, while a bit submissive, was one to make their own decisions, choose their own path."

"Please don't tell me it's because you've been on the same path your whole life."

She shook her head. "No. I want to be with Father. I believe in what he's doing, and he loves me as a father should. I won't abandon him."

He took her hands in his. "I'll apologize to Father later tonight, if I get the chance. I'll explain to him that planning a full-scale war against Heaven simply surprised me, even if I'd been trying to figure a way through this madness since last night. I'll be the alpha male he wants me to be, and I'll make him proud."

Jo gave a soft snort, grinning a bit. "Beta male, you mean; Father's the only alpha."

"Guess that makes you beta female if you're my mate."

"I can live with that."

********************************************************************************

Andy and Colton _really_liked the island.

Circe's tropical hangout was a paradise: lagoons, waterfalls, tiki bars, bungalows, hiking paths, white sand beaches, crystal-clear waters, cafeterias, and arcades/entertainment centers. For the more violence-inclined, the island also had a gym, dojo, armory, and training grounds, where warriors practiced with both hands and weapons.

The pack had quickly dispersed in all directions, eager to explore and chat up the locals. While many of them were female, more than enough were male. They dressed in all manner of clothing: tropical theme, swimsuits (skimpy, of course), exercise clothes, and much more. More than a few even waltzed about in the buff, something not even the frisky wolves did back at the campsite. Only a relative handful of people were in human form.

"I love this place," Colton said as they walked towards a bungalow. He took a second to scarf down the pastry he'd gotten at a poolside bar. "I hope we stay here a lot longer than a few weeks."

"Uh-huh," Andy said in agreement, waving at a couple of ladies, one human and one jaguar, who went by; while the feline was wearing a karate gi, the human was nude. The young man was tempted to try and talk them into a foursome.

"C'mon, man," Colton said, pulling his pack brother in.

Since their arrival, the family had shifted into their canine forms, feeling perfectly fine in the tropical environment. Only now, in the early evening, did the heat kick up.

But it was a heat of the loins, both males' cocks practically burning to the touch as they kissed fiercely. Their clothes almost vanished, they were in such a need, frotting their rods.

Breaking the kiss, Andy growled, "You're on bottom."

"I'm always on bottom," the other complained. "Good thing I like it so much."

The taller wolf grinned, shoving his brother back onto the bed. Colton returned the grin, grabbing under his thighs and pulling them up and wide to allow the dom access. Andy's nostrils flared as he inhaled the sub's scent, licking his lips in anticipation.

With all the pre coming out, he was lubed enough to push inside, Colton briefly jerking from the entry and his grip almost slipped. Andy smirked at his partner's attempts to keep it together: not only was he giving Colton a good plumbing, but his hands were expertly working over his cock, urging him closer and closer to climax. The hands moved impossibly fast, slipping and sliding and flying over the canine meat.

"Not...not the dick!" Colton gasped. He was barely able to hold his legs up, desperately wanting to wrap them around Andy's waist. The way the penetrating wolf was going, thrusting in and out of Colton's tailhole, the boy was crumbling fast. Andy's cock was long enough that it hit Colton's prostate with each push, and the heat it radiated and the way its respectable girth stretched his rectum sent him racing to the finish line.

Andy became caught up in his own pleasure, his seed starting to gush out even before he peaked. Cursing, he slammed home, forcing his cock in to the base and unleashing everything he had. A jet of hot wolf cum flowed into Colton's ass, sending a warm sensation through his midsection. Simultaneously, Andy's hands gripped his brother's cock as it spasmed, its own load splashing all over Colton's chest and belly.

The receiving wolf went limp, his legs hanging over the bed's end as Andy stood there, taking deep breaths to regain his composure. Failing, he settled instead for collapsing on top of Colton, who had surprisingly fallen asleep.

A few short hours later, Colton would wake up from one of his usual dreams, jolted awake by a strange man and the desperate need to save his friend.

*******************************************************************************

"Grant, come on..."

The voice was soft as a whisper, but it pulled Grant from his dreamless slumber. He'd gone wandering after his talk with Jo, unable to apologize to Lycaon, who had retreated to a restricted area with Circe, and had eventually settled down to sleep on a hammock. Many pieces of furniture were set about the island, reinforcing the idea that much of it was a place of rest and relaxation.

The voice called again, soft as before but strong enough to sound like someone genuinely needing him. Grant uneasily got to his feet and walked along the path. Each time he tried to speed up, the voice sounded farther away, and if he slowed down, the urge to hurry rose within him. He also couldn't explain it, but whoever was calling for him sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it exactly. It was incredibly fortunate that, it being late at night, nearly everyone was asleep, or he'd feel quite dumb, wandering about to voices in the wind.

Finally he came to a small clearing, which hosted a marble bench and a short row of columns in front of and behind it. There was a single figure on the bench.

"Jo?" he asked, blinking. "Where you the one calling me?"

She nodded, rubbing her arm in a worried manner. It was fairly warm on the island even at night, so humans (or weres in human form) had no trouble keeping comfortable. Currently, Jo was in her human skin, staring at her feet. For a second, the young man felt a flicker of concern, but then his heart seemed to quiver.

"What is it?" he asked her as he took the spot at her side.

Not meeting his eyes, she told him, "I've been thinking. About you, me, my father...our future..."

Grant blinked again, not sure how to react. "I'm not sure I understand."

She waved a hand to signify their surroundings. "Everything. I keep thinking about what we're accomplishing by being a part of my father's plans, and the more I think about it, the more it hurts." Her head turned and she met his gaze. "Grant, I think coming here was a mistake."

His jaw dropped. "What?"

"I really think I should have helped you escape on Halloween." Holding up her hand between them, she continued, "Now you're like me: torn between two worlds, incapable of going back and unsure of what lies ahead. Do you have any idea what it's like to be me, spending year after year with no clear sense of personal identity? Grant, you can't imagine how sorry I am that I made you like this."

Grant wanted to say something, anything, but his voice was gone. All he could do was stare in utter disbelief at his lover. When he didn't speak, she continued.

"I think the best move for both of us would be to grab what we can and get out of here. If the Queen of Olympus just wants information, like she asked you, then let's give it to her so we can bargain for safety from all this madness." She looked him in the eyes, tears about to flow from hers. "I just want to be human, like you."

Grant could barely hear anything anymore. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he honestly thought the organ would burst out of his chest like in Alien. What Jo was saying felt wrong, but instead of his heart being crushed, it felt as though it was trying to explode and push away all the suffocating negativity.

Strangely, he wanted to accuse Jo of the pain. Every word she said made him ache, and he somehow knew it wasn't the truth.

"Damn it, Grant, just take my hand and let's get out of this nightmare."

He looked at her, forcing himself to breathe. He tried to lift his hand--

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

Both of them jumped out of their skins and looked. At the edge of the clearing stood a wolf, his hair wild, his lungs breathless, and his finger pointing.

Shaken out of his haze, Grant stared at his pack brother. "Colton?!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Jo demanded, her features twisted from sad and beautiful to irate and scornful.

His finger still aimed at the female, Colton replied, "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!"

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Jo snarled, the air becoming almost electrically charged. She stood up, and for a second Grant thought that she would outright attack Colton, she seemed so consumed with rage at her bizarre manipulation of Grant being interrupted...

But then a flicker of movement behind him, just out of the corner of his eye, changed everything.

Moving with blinding speed, Lycaon attacked. His fist smashed into Jo's temple and she was sent face-first into a marble column, a sharp cracking noise easily heard. Before she even had the chance to get onto her feet, just barely having time to peel her blood-smeared face away from the stone, the alpha male was upon her.

His fingers snaking into her hair and taking an iron grip, he pulled her head back and slammed it forward, so hard that Grant physically jerked just from watching it happen.

"So the gods come down from their precious mountain to mingle with us beasts!" His voice was thick with loathing. All of his fur stood on edge, his fangs bared and his eyes blazing with unbridled fury. "Who else has infiltrated this island? Speak!"

Jo--or whoever or whatever she really was--didn't respond with words. She grabbed Lycaon's wrist and he was thrown back against a column, hard enough that a split could be almost made out.

"I am enough to handle you, monster," Not-Jo sneered, turning to face her attacker.

Now Grant could see the blood on her face clearly, and it was gold instead of the normal red. The pillar she'd collided with was also stained with her golden fluid.

The young woman thrust a hand out at Lycaon. White mist swirled around his feet, making him pause from launching a second assault. Grant could just make out the ghostly forms of humans rising out of the mist. They latched onto the Wolf King, and he became afraid, almost terrified, yelling, "No, no! Get away from me, phantoms! You are not real! You are not real!"

Spitting, Not-Jo got to her feet, about to attack again, but an arrow shot into her thigh, dropping her immediately. As she screamed in pain and anger, islanders armed with spears and swords swarmed from the forest, surrounding them. One of them flung a golden net over Not-Jo: its anchors sank into the ground and pinned her tightly, not yielding an inch despite her stubborn attempts to push herself up.

"F...Father?" Grant asked weakly, his voice finally returning.

Several yards away, Colton was helping Lycaon, the latter hunched over, one hand on a knee for support. He shuffled closer to the captured imposter, stopping at the side of a tigress.

"Where...where is Circe?" Lycaon asked, breathing heavily.

"I am here!"

Out of the jungle strode the sorceress, and at her side was Jo, the real one, in all her furry glory. The smaller female bore as expression of pure rage, her lips constantly twitching back to reveal her fangs, and her eyes were narrowed into venomous slits. When they reached the others, Circe asked, "Lycaon, you're hurt. Go to the healers."

He shook his head. "I will have words with this devil. Very particular words."

Despite the strength he put into his words, everyone could see that he was trembling, almost on the verge of collapse. Circe called his bluff.

"I was not asking, Wolf King. You need to heal and rest. I will be along shortly."

Her tone brooked no room for argument, and Grant didn't want to see what happened if a werewolf fought a magician, especially if two such as they were the combatants. Reluctantly Lycaon withdrew, Colton aiding him.

"Make the bitch talk," Jo growled, her ire rising by the moment. It was hard to tell if she was more enraged at being impersonated or by the attempt to twist her mate to another's will.

"Yes, talk, temptress," Circe ordered. "You nearly evaded my wards and guards, but we caught just enough of you to hunt you down. What were you doing to this boy? The Queen's work?"

"I was trying to save him," the imposter retorted. Her voice was strained and she forced the words out. "You and your kind have been dragging him deeper and deeper into a quagmire of suffering. I had to save his heart."

Grant jolted, realizing just what she was saying: the pain in his heart had been magically induced!

"You couldn't, though," he said, all eyes shifting to him. "I felt like I was bursting inside, but I was pushing your powers away, wasn't I?"

"Yes," the imposter ground out. "I was trying to help you."

"By lying to him!" Jo roared. "My mate! Mine! You ambushed me, tucked me away, and lured my mate here to trick him into running off with you!"

The imposter recoiled, and it was astonishing that she didn't become buried in the dirt. "No!" she wailed in protest. "I would have unbound you and set you both off to the Queen's embrace. Her offer is genuine. You must take it!"

"The fuck we will!"

Circe held up a hand and Jo calmed down a bit.

"I want to know, intruder, if you are the minion or the mistress, and whether it was you spying upon the wolves at their camp."

The imposter hesitated before answering. "I am Aphrodite," she said, and a wave a shock rolled through the crowd. "I am the Goddess of Love. I was the Queen's eyes and ears at the wolves' den."

Love. The word set something off insider Grant. It was like an inferno, consuming him from within.

He marched over to stand at Jo's side. His own fur was bristling, and he could not keep his fists from shaking as he glowered venomously at Aphrodite. Words failed to come to him, though he dearly wished to inflict the worst kind of verbal abuse upon her.

Circe, though, seemed coolly surprised.

"Consider me impressed, Titan. I honestly did not think you would have been so brazen as to come here yourself, but it appears I was quite mistaken."

Aphrodite glared at the sorceress. "I will not be denied. Captured though I may be, and powerless inside this accursed net, but love shall conquer all, including your attempts at petty revenge. You already tipped your hand when the beast, Lycaon, set up his brainwashing operation in Georgia, or did you think we wouldn't notice? "

Circe spit at her. "Revenge? You lot on Olympus know so little about us and even less about yourselves. You claim to act in the best interests of others, but when have you ever atoned for your crimes, repaid your debts to society?"

Grant couldn't hold it in anymore. His teeth bared and eyes blazing, he jabbed a finger at the captive goddess.

"You infiltrated our home and spied upon us; you infiltrated our host's home and attempted to corrupt us; and you refuse to admit your own culpability in horrific events over countless years." His voice had been brimming with rage, each word causing Aphrodite to flinch. Unleashing every bit of pent-up fury, Grant roared, "For all the suffering you have caused of your own willful malice, I name you Heartwraith!"

What happened next, nobody there would ever forget.

Aphrodite recoiled as if physically shoved, her disguise flickering from a perfect replica of Jo to a beautiful woman for just a second before changing to something that looked like a Romero zombie. Her skin clung tightly to her bones and was a sickly green and leathery. Her face was horribly emaciated, eyes sunken in so deep that they became pits of darkness, no whites visible. Her hair was a tangled mess, some of it falling out. Her teeth were narrow, a rotten shade of yellow, and crooked through and through.

But worst of all was her voice, or what might have been her voice: rasping, pathetically shrieking, like someone at Death's door using their last bit of energy to feebly scrap their nails on chalkboard.

Everyone save for Circe, Grant, and Jo was shocked at the transformation, backing away at first. But when they saw that their mistress and the hyenas were standing their ground, Grant's finger still pointing, their courage returned. Slowly they took up the chant of "Heartwraith! Heartwraith!" and they closed in again, weapons leveled.

Only when they were about to strike did Circe call a halt.

"She will be imprisoned in our dungeons, under the tender mercy of the Weaver," the sorceress declared. "Bind her tightly and do not let your guard down."

As the islanders did so, the magician had Grant and Jo follow her back to her villa, but this time they moved indoors to a living room. There they found Lycaon and Colton: the alpha male was a sobbing, heaving wreck of a man, seated on an ottoman and clinging to his son for support. When Circe put her hand on his shoulder, he shifted to her, arms wrapping tightly about her waist, like a child to his mother.

"I saw them!" he moaned into her dress. "I saw all of them again! Their faces! Their voices!" He was wracked by a long bout of crying before finally saying, "The dead--they haunt me! They haunt me!"

Circe kept calm and whispered something, putting a hand to the distraught man's forehead. Swiftly he became subdued, his fit ending and his body going slack. With Colton's help, she moved him to a small couch and put a light blanket over him.

"He will have no nightmares tonight," the island leader informed them. "You have to understand, he has carried the agony of his family's death with him for thousands of years. While he may find respite in the here and now, the pain will never truly go away. He's asked my help many times over the years, and I have given him everything I can, but some wounds are very difficult to mend."

"You...you love him, don't you?" Jo asked. As pained as she was by her father's torture, she couldn't ignore the obvious.

Circe nodded. "He's a good man, and I've come to admire and respect and, yes, even love him. As easily as he seems to make children, I think it's actually rather hard for him to appear so easy about it, and I can only imagine how hard it is for him to think of having new wives."

She sighed and sat in a chair. "Please, be seated. This night has drained us all, and I fear things will only get worse in the coming days. The Titan was right about that much."

"One thing I'd like to know," Grant said. "Colton, where'd you come from? It was a miracle you showed up when you did."

The wolf shrugged. "I can't explain it. Me and Andy were having sex, but we fell asleep after cumming. I was having one of my usual crazy dreams, but then when I saw Father in it, his face split open to show this crazy bearded guy, like one of those dudes from Duck Dynasty or something. He told me I had to wake up and save you or we'd all be screwed. I woke up and took off like a rocket, telling the first person I ran into to get Circe here and alert everyone, and I ran around like hell to find you."

"Crazy bearded guy?" Jo asked. "Is that all you remember of him?"

"He was pretty ugly, too."

Circe interrupted. "I have my suspicions as to who it may be, but it will have to wait for now. By this point, your entire pack should be up and gathered at the pavilion nearby. I would suggest telling them what has happened. I will stay here to guard your father."

With that, the three weres left and headed down the path to a small pavilion, where they indeed found all their siblings. Bit by bit, they told of every detail, not leaving out Lycaon's ancient misery or Aphrodite's hideous metamorphosis. The others went from horrified to disgusted, settling on fearful once the sordid tale was finished.

"I think we all owe Colton one," Grant said, putting a hand to his brother's shoulder. "I think I might have died, or worse, if it wasn't for him."

Colton blushed and bowed his head sheepishly, not responding to the many other thanks he received.

"But what're we supposed to do now?" Cara asked. "Father got thrashed, Circe has a goddess to deal with, and we're left spinning our rudders."

For a moment, they argued amongst themselves, but before Grant or Jo could speak up, Arnold yelled for attention.

"Now I know I may sound like I'm stating the obvious, but I think the best course of action, aside from keeping calm like a bomb, is to stick fast to Father's plans."

"Good point," Matt nodded. "We came a long way for this, and Father came even farther, so giving up now and in light of what happened would be a slap in the face. We can't have that."

"Yeah," Grant said. "But Father's zonked out right now from the fight." He took a deep breath. "Whenever Father's not around, I'm in charge. I'm asserting my position as beta male in this pack. Any questions?"

Nobody said anything, but they all looked at him with pride and respect, and none more so than Jo. Stepping forward herself, she declared, "Given what just happened tonight, I step down from my position as alpha female and assert my new position as beta female. I name our hostess, the sorceress Circe, as honorary alpha female, as recognition of her services to us and especially to our father."

"Fuckin' A!" someone cried delightfully, and applause broke out.

The clapping turned to full-on joy when Grant, glad to have the talking done, grabbed Jo and kissed her. She returned the gesture, tightly holding onto him.

****************************************************************************

Far away, a man with a ruined face and a beard to make Grizzly Adams feel humbled nodded and turned off the last of his spying equipment.

It had been exceedingly challenging to sneak his way into Colton's dream--and what a neurotic dream it had been!--and alert him to his enemy's presence. The man was glad that he hadn't needed to waste time fixing anything, because then he might have been late and his efforts and planning would have been for naught.

Sighing as the tension of the night finally left him, he secured his workshop and left.

To be continued...!!!