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Lykos Chapter 7 (Hunted)

Snow fell gently from the skies, settling across the roofs and streets of Echo Creek Colorado, as it had every winter for centuries. It was tranquil and calm, blanketing the town in a quiet serenity. Of all the quiet places, though, there was one remote alley way that was quieter than the rest. Diffused light crept down from between the buildings, falling on the half melted forgotten snow. In all likelihood it would have remained undisturbed for many more weeks, up until a pair of black boots stepped into the alley.

The man came to a stop, his long, black hair whipping around from beneath the wide brimmed hat, mirroring the fractal patterns his gray scarf followed in the blustery breeze. His long trench coat had seen better days. The edges were frayed, there were a few tears. His black pants were equally worn, particularly on the knees... but his boots were in pristine shape. They were worn in but maintained, the leather in perfect shape with no cracks or weathering.

Ever so slowly the man knelt down closer to the ground, peering out from behind his black rayban sunglasses. He looked at the alleyway and reached out, brushing the snow away from the cement with a black gloved hand. With the snow displaced, the hands lipped into his pocket and pulled out a long, thin rectangular device. He used his other hand to lift his sunglasses, revealing pale hazel eyes that complimented the almond hints to his skin tone.

With a deft flick of his finger, the device came to life. A black like shimmered and snapped on, but so too did a green laser strip. The man passed the device back and forth across the exposed portion of the cement. His first few passes revealed nothing. The corners of his mouth slowly dragged down into a slight frown. He wondered if he'd been led astray, if it had been nothing more than rumor... but then the lights illuminated a faint shimmering particulate across the cement.

The frown turned into a glimmer of hope. The gloved hand brushed away more of the snow and the light was passed over again. An outline was starting to take shape, an outline of a long since disappeared puddle - a puddle of blood. The man turned the device off and slid it back into his pocket before he rose to his feet. He casually turned and moved out of the alleyway, turning to move back up the street.

His eyes peered out from behind the glasses, looking at the town of Echo Creek. It had its own university, wireless hot spots, but the town was rather quaint in general. People stuck to what worked best for them. There were vintage 1920's fords driving past electric hybrids of the present. It was quaint and quiet, which made it even harder to believe that there might be werewolves there.

The man wondered how many might be there, what sort of society they had built. The man came to a stop on a street corner, rubbing his hands together a bit. Despite dressing for winter, it had still turned out rather cold. He turned his head and looked through the window of the Echo Creek Coffee Shop. The logo featured an elk drinking from a winding stream. The man hesitated for a long moment before he moved for the door, opened it up and moved in.

Once inside, he was engulfed by warm air, the scent of coffee and traces of cinnamon. A capella Christmas carols played from the speakers while the customers talked, snacked, or more commonly texted from their phones. The man moved up toward the counter, his eyes never leaving the young eighteen year old moving back and forth behind the counter. He was thin and lanky, his hair bleach blond and his face smooth. He looked like he could pass for sixteen if he wanted to.

There was a hustle to the barista's movements, though he occasionally got a bit clumsy when mixing the liquids. The man in the hat watched carefully, focusing on the young man's fingernails. They were well kept and clean, though two of them looked as though they had been occasionally chewed on. The faint smile on the man's lips grew larger.

"Barista, give me a pumpkin spice latte. Large." He said. The young man looked up, a quizzical smile crossing his face.

"Pumpkin spice latte, grande, coming right up." The barista replied, moving to start preparing the drink. He glanced back over his shoulder with a winning smile, "You're not from around here, are ya? I get to know most of my customers. Where ya from?" he asked. One black eyebrow raised up over the sunglasses.

"Out of town." The man replied vaguely, looking at the boy's name tag, "Do you go to the university here in town Thackary?" He asked. The barista looked surprised before looking down at his nametag, realizing where the stranger had picked his name up.

"I was hoping to transfer from a community college there eventually, but then I didn't exactly have the money for community college either. So, for now, I'm working here until my music career takes off. What about you? What brings you here, mister..." Thackary trailed off.

"Coffee brings me here, and the scenery. I want to see if this place would hold up to a nature vacation, to see what sort of... wild life might life around here." The man replied. Thackary nodded.

"Well, it's a cozy town, a nice destination for many." Thackary said, finishing up the latte, reaching to grab a few canisters from the top shelf, adding a few drops of pumpkin spice and an essential oil before he brought the cup over. The man reached out for it but the blond barista held it just an inch too far away, "Can I at least get a name for my newest customer?" Thackary asked. The man in the hat hesitated for a long moment.

"Killian." He replied simply, lifting his latte to sip from it. Thackary gave a soft smile, moving back about his business.

****

Fletcher panted softly, holding on to the wood posts at the end of the bed. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his chest was rising and falling with heated breath, but he leaned forward and plunged his lips around the condom covered cock before him. His lips slid up and down over the rubbery coating as he sucked and sucked, feeling the heat trapped inside, feeling the contours of the wolfen meat beyond. Marco stood before the bed, his eyes gleaming yellow, his fangs dripping with saliva, his ears pointed and his beard extra fluffy. Fletcher sucked and slurped at it, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, but his pleasure wasn't coming from sucking off Marco alone... His pleasure was three fold.

With Fletcher perched at the end of the bed on his knees, his ass was exposed behind. Udo crawled up ever so slowly like an animal stalking his prey, looking at that pert bubble ass, the perfect cleft, knowing what was trapped inside. His clawed hands reached up, slowly pulling the cheeks apart, revealing the pert pucker. Udo licked his lips, his eyes gleaming yellow as he buried his face in Fletch's ass, plunging his tongue deep inside.

Rayne moaned, his back arching more, his panting only increasing. The young hipster was as hard as a stone, his cock bobbing and dangling before him, but it too was not abandoned. Yom's deep growling purrs radiated through the dorm room like an invisible bass, his ears at their zenith, his beard less perfectly kept than before. Artyom leaned back in, dragging his rough werewolf tongue up over Fletch's rubber clad cock, teasing the mushroom shaped head before he sucked it into his mouth.

Every movement Artyom took was cautious and careful, trying to keep his fangs from cutting through the condom. It was a necessary protection Marco had insisted on despite Fletcher's objections. Every werewolf knew that their bite could create a werewolf, a direwolf, or death... and two of those fates were unthinkable. Marco didn't want to risk his lover but at the same time, their pack lust was quite appreciable. In the end, Fletcher couldn't turn down a werewolf orgy and the condoms had been accepted.

Fletcher writhed and flinched, moving between Udo eating out his ass, Yom sucking his cock, and blowing Marco all at the same time. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and testosterone. All Fletch could do was to drag it in with a heady breath. They had been going at it for minutes already, but soon Marco could sense the changes.

The smell of Fletcher's sweat, the way he breathed, even the sound of his heart. Every part of it was stimulating. Fletcher felt like he was part of the pack, part of the whole, part of the family. He let out a deep moan, tipping his head back. He felt his balls tense up, his cock quiver, his orgasm was coming.

"Bite me..." Fletcher begged. Udo froze where he was, his eyes going wider. Yom started to slowly clamp down, ever so gently around the cock he was sucking, but he too froze as there was a deep growl from above. Udo backed up off the bed and Yom pulled back as Marco pushed Fletch. Fletch fell onto his back, gasping as his orgasm hit and his cock began pumping his sperm into the condom. Marco came down onto Fletch and leaned down, nuzzling his neck, tracing his fangs across the skin there before his lips brushed Fletcher's left ear.

"I can't... I'm sorry." Marco whispered, "But I love you... We love you." Marco replied. Fletcher reached up and traced his fingers through Marco's beard.

"I know... We are one." Fletcher said, trying not to sound defeated. Marco shuddered and moaned as he began to cum, the yellowish seed billowing up in his condom, stretching out the rubber more and more as if it were some sort of water balloon. Marco clenched his eyes shut and groaned and then the condom burst. Fletch inhaled sharply as a wave of hot wolf cum poured across his lap, coating his cock and balls and thighs. The two lingered there for a moment, but soon Fletcher felt something else... a tongue against his leg. Yom had moved around and was starting to lick up his alpha's salty spooge, getting some in his beard as he drank every drop he could find.

Fletcher tried to suppress it, but a half choked laugh escaped his lips, then a fuller one, especially as he felt Udo's tongue join in. The two wolves were tongue bathing him, getting up all the seed and after his own orgasm it tickled a fair bit. Fletcher moved to suck on Marco's lower lip.

"You know, we're going to have to get a different kind of condom if we're going to keep this up you big stud." Fletcher replied. Marco smiled at that, moving to return the kiss while the others cleaned them off.

****

Faulkner's Cove Sports was a small, trendy shop that catered to the progressive youth that came in with the college crowd. There were snowboards, skateboards, chain wallets and trendy puffy mountain jackets. Any teen or twenty something having an adventurous date with the wilderness could find what they needed right there... But it lacked the wide appeal that fit the hunters, the farmers, or any of Echo Creek's other full time residents. It was that specificity to demographics that made the appearance of Killian most peculiar as he entered to the sound of a jangling bell. The shop keeper looked up, a little puzzled but wanting to put his best customer service forward.

"Welcome to the Cove! If you're looking for anything in particular, I'd be happy to help you find it." He introduced.

"You are Steever Lamb, right?" Killian asked, looking at the man from behind his glasses. The shop keeper looked a bit more unsettled.

"Uh, yeah... What did I do?" he asked. Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, navigating through the bookmarks before he lifted it up. Displayed on the screen was a picture of two teeth.

"Did you post the blog article about the murder that was covered up?" Killian asked. Steever's eyes went wide.

"Holy... fuck, man. I... I'll take it down, I'm sorry. I mean, I figured they'd have some reason to do it, but..." Steever whispered.

"I'm not trying to cover it up. In fact, I'm here to investigate your claims." Killian replied, putting his phone away, "Why don't you tell me everything from the beginning." Killian said.

"Are you sure? I mean, what if... What if they're listening?" Steever asked. Killian glanced around.

"Who would be listening?" he asked. Steever hesitated.

"Whoever wants to keep this all a secret?" he whispered. Killian chuckled.

"It's just you and me, my friend, so why don't you go on, tell me everything you saw." He replied. Steever hesitated before nodding.

"Well, I'd just been chatting with one of my regulars and I was heading to do some inventory. When I was in the back I heard these weird thumps, and then like... This roar. Well, I was buried in shoes and synthetic belts at the time so it took me a while to get out, but when I made it around the corner-" Steever was interrupted.

"Which corner, the alley way?" Killian asked.

"Yeah, that's... How'd you know?" Steever asked. Killian grimaced.

"I'm investigating. So you came around the corner, and you saw what? A body?" Killian asked. Steever started to look pale and even a bit ill.

"S... Sort of... There... There was a pool of blood, it had soaked into the snow... And there were like, bits and pieces... Skin torn apart like wrapping paper, clothes shredded to pieces, flecks of hair... Teeth... Fingernails." Steever listed, looking more and more ill by the second, the trauma of it starting to hit him.

"And what did you do?" Killian asked.

"I did what any good, decent person would do. I went and got the cops and led them right back there, but when I got there... It was all gone. Not just the body, but the snow too. It was all melted away and washed clean. The cop threatened to arrest me for filing a false report, but I knew what I saw. I can't even dream in that much detail... What I saw was real." Steever whispered.

"If everything was gone, how did you find the teeth?" Killian asked. Steever gave a weak smile.

"I don't like people thinking I'm crazy... I knew there had to be something they forgot, something they missed. Sure enough, two teeth had fallen into the storm drain. I fished them out and they're all I have to show my story was real." Steever whispered.

"Would you mind... Could I see them?" Killian asked.

"Well, you can see one o f them. The other is some place safe, and there are instructions in case anything happens to me, so don't... don't do anything we might both regret." Steever said before he moved toward the back storeroom. Killian remained there, standing in the shop, looking around. All of the evidence pointed to only one inescapable conclusion. Echo Creek had itself a werewolf, a particularly vicious one at that... But it also had a keeper. Someone was covering up the secret. It was an all too familiar story. The question was, who was it, and why?

"Here it is man, I... I didn't think anyone would believe me." Steever said, coming back. He slowly held out his hand, revealing an ivory colored bicuspid, faintly yellowed as it had dried out. Killian reached over and picked it up, bringing it close before he started to turn it one way and then the other, looking at it carefully.

"Bicuspid... No wearing, no cavities, perfect condition. Every formation perfect." He whispered.

"What does that mean? How does someone lose perfectly healthy teeth?" Steever whispered. Killian took a sideways glance at the shop keeper.

"It would only happen if the rest of his body was dying around it." Killian replied. This answer seemed to only concern the shop keeper all the more.

****

Dinner had run its course and the evening was starting to get late. The kitchen had closed up and started cleaning and most students had returned to their dorms, btut tucked off in one corner of the building Marco sat with Fletcher, the two savoring the last of their Mexican style lasagna casserole. Fletcher had been talking about the latest movies and shows and music, and as usual Marco had been quiet, but this silence had been different. Rather than simply listening, he had been brooding. Just before the last bite, he brought his hand down onto the table.

"What did you mean, bite me?" Marco asked. Fletcher stopped with the fork half way to his mouth, lowering it slowly.

"I was caught up in the heat of the moment, I..." Fletcher murmured.

"You know what happens. One of us, one of them, or not at all." Marco replied.

"Yes, yes I know that... You say it, all of you say it verbatim like its some sort of mantra. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me though? I mean, look at you... All of you, what you can do. You can change, you can hunt, you can be amazingly handsome and sexy and my god, how much you put out today?" Fletcher whispered, "But I'm just me, the same me I've always been." Fletcher said.

"I like you, I love you, I need you. If you got bit and started to turn into one of those things-" Marco was interrupted this time.

"But I know that won't happen! Look at me? I'm trendy, I'm optimistic, I'm a happy go lucky guy. Yom didn't have any problems until he thought he'd killed me in cold blood. I have to believe that what kind of wolf you become is dependent on who you are." Fletcher said, trying to whisper the most sensitive words.

"That might be true, and even if it wasn't, if you turned into some monstrous, drippy, burly direwolf... I think... I could win you back, but that isn't the part that scare same. What scares me is the not at all part. What if we get too frisky, or too zealous. One nip during play time and you die from an allergic reaction? How could I live with myself? How could I let that happen? I love you too much, and you are more special than you know." Marco whispered.

"I love you too, and I don't want to die.... I just want to be special, to contribute. I'm not even a good keeper. I don't know anything about magic or potions." Fletcher said.] "We're in college. We're going to learn..." Marco said. Fletcher took a long breath.

"If we figure out some day, a way for sure, that I can change and I won't die?" Fletcher asked.

"Are you kidding me? I'll give it to you myself... Claim you as my ultimate mate." Marco whispered. Fletcher smiled slowly.

"So then, I guess I know what I'll be working toward beside my thesis..." Fletcher chuckled.

"You might just be determined enough to do it." Marco smiled.

"Trust me, being the creamy center of that oreo orgy of wolfy sex is fun, but I want to be a player, not a play thing." Fletcher grinned.

"Well, we'll see what we can do." Marco smirked.

****

The door to the hotel room eased open as Killian moved in, shutting the door right behind him. He carefully locked it before he moved over to the windows, lowering the blinds, adjusting them so they were shut. It wasn't that he hated the view. If anything, Echo Creek was one of the nicer places he'd been to, but he couldn't risk anyone seeing him. With the windows shut, he pulled out his scanner again and flicked it on.

A few passes over the room revealed left over traces of semen, but no blood or other fluids to be concerned about. Killian put the scanner away and pulled off his coat, hanging it up on the hook on the door. His scarf came off next, then his sunglasses and finally his hat. He stood in the room, five foot ten, his black hair unruly down to his shoulders. With his neck exposed, the cool room air brushed a single scar following the curve of his throat, creeping toward his jugular.

Killian started making a slow advance toward the bed, but he lifted his black t-shirt, revealing a sort of ammunition belt tucked beneath. Each pocket was filled with a different sort of blade, ranging from throwing star to razor blade to folding knife. Killian unclasped the strap and slid it off of his shoulder, draping it onto his nightstand. From there he pulled off his gloves, revealing more scared flesh. He slowly flexed his left hand, remembering the claws that had started cutting into it in the heat of battle.

The hunter had led a very long, very difficult life... But he knew he was on the right path. Every werewolf he stopped was dozens of lives saved, but there was something about Echo Creek that felt different, riskier. The wildest wolves, the ones that shed their skin, they were easy to hunt. There were always stories of monsters or beasts, strange animal attacks, unexplained murders... and they were never protected by those damn pagan keepers.

Killian grimaced. He liked clean in and out procedures, finding the problem and eliminating it. So far only one citizen had come up with anything tangible. He needed more to go off of, he needed to find more eye witnesses. Still, it was a quiet town for the most part. The only real thing that set it apart was the university. Killian knew there had to be someone at that college on the street that day, someone that heard a roar, saw the body, something. None of them had posted to the internet about it, but Killian was hoping the news had gotten out somewhere specifically... The guidance counselor. It would have to be his next destination after a well deserved sleep.

****

A box fan hummed away gently, filling the dorm room with circulating air. The air passed over the interwoven bodies of the four college men, slumbering away. Fletcher was sleeping on his back with his head resting on Marco's hip and his legs draped over Yom's ribs, his jaw agape. He'd had a full day of learning, having sex and eating good. It was the perfect routine for a deep, satisfying sleep. His chest rose and fell with each breath and his subconscious drifted deeper and deeper.

He felt warm and cozy, as if he were wandering through a moist fog. His dream took shape around him, feeling warm, slimy waters rising up to his knees. Ancient trees rose all around him, twisted and gnarled. The branches raised up to form a canopy above him, blocking out half of the sunlight. What light made it into the swampy forest was scattered all around.

"Hello! I know you're out there!" Fletcher called out through the fog, "No need to catch me by surprise and all."

"The surprise... is a human coming into the swamp of the lost ones all by himself. Aren't you afraid of dying, little one?" Came a deep, resonating voice.

"I'm already dying... I've just been stabbed. I kind of was hoping for an alternative solution." Fletcher called out. He stopped dead as two gleaming red eyes opened before him, reflecting the dim light. The creature's fur looked as if it was made out of shadow soaked in blood. Yellowed fangs slowly glimmered in the light.

"Fletcher, you aren't supposed to remember this yet. Sleep deeper my pet..." The shadow wolf whispered, reaching out to caress the human's cheek. Fletcher's dream shattered as he let out a half snore and murmured, rolling over onto his side, nuzzling his face against Marco's nipple, falling back asleep in mere moments.

****

Light spilled in from three corners of the office ceiling, coming down in angled arcs across the pale wood desk and the designer leather back chair. A man in his mid forties sat behind it, his hair slicked back and shaved on the sides. He had a square jaw and a weathered face that seemed to contrast with the midnight blue and black suit he wore. His large fingers glided across the keys of his computer, though they slowed to a stop when there was a buzz from a small device on his desk.

"Mister Fernandez, your nine o'clock is here." A receptionist voiced.

"Send him in." The man stated. A moment later the door opened. Beyond the office was a narrow hallway barely large enough for the receptionist and a bathroom beyond the elevator, but such was the life of prime real estate in the tower of the Walden building. Four floors up, there were few things as high on campus... but Julio Fernandez wasn't admiring the floor he had to himself, he was looking at the man entering his office.

Killian was wearing a clean and neat button up black shirt with a neru collar, his slacks neatly pressed. His hair was not only tied back but braided as well. He looked clean, respectable and completely unmenacing. Julio rose to his feet, giving a big smile.

"Mister Smith, a pleasure to meet you in person. I've been reading over your nephew's transcript. I have to say, I'm pretty impressed." Julio said happily.

"Well he's such a unique and gifted boy, I really want to make sure he has everything he needs to get ahead in life. So far your campus seems like the perfect fit." Killian smiled, moving over. Julio gestured for him to have a seat and so Killian sunk down into the chair.

"Have you heard the term Paideia before?" Julio asked. Killian shook his head curiously.

"It sounds Greek." Killian replied. Julio nodded.

"Good ear. Paideia was a Greek philosophy of education to help people become the best citizens they could be. We pride ourselves here on practicing Paideia, bringing together the best subject based schooling along with socialization and community involvement. Our graduates are prepared for a great many different walks of life and can live more fulfilled lives because of the education we provide... Though I must admit, I am a bit surprised that you booked an appointment with me rather than someone in the admissions building." Julio said. Killian smiled and chuckled a bit at that.

"It's true, and of course I'll follow up with the admissions department, but I wanted to get to know a face of the faculty, someone who works with the students on a daily basis. It isn't your job to get people enrolling here, so what I learn from you might be more... insightful." Killian said. Julio smirked at that, nodding.

"A tactful man, I can respect that." Julio said, rolling his chair over to the water cooler. He turned his back to Killian for only a moment before he returned with two paper cups of water, setting them down. Julio smiled, "So I take it you have some questions?"

"I do, I do..." Killian said, reaching to pick up the cup, taking a sip, "What are acceptance rates like?"

"I believe at last calculation it was eighty three percent acceptance. We have just shy of three thousand students." Julio replied.

"And graduation rates?" Killian asked back.

"Seventy percent." Julio answered. Killian nodded.

"Not bad... The University is a bit remote, there are a lot of woods around here." Killian said.

"We have many environmental science courses that take advantage of the nature beyond our campus, taking the classroom out into real world experiences." Julio said.

"But I imagine there are wild animals out there... Have there been any injuries to students?" Killian asked. Julio was about to deny it before he paused.

"Well, we did have one student this year that twisted his ankle while on a hike... But we do strive for the maximum degree of safety for our students, both off and on campus." Julio said. Killian looked faintly surprised.

"So just one sprained ankle?" Killian asked.

"Just one sprained ankle, and the Echo Creek hospital is quite close by should anything happen out of the ordinary." Julio said, looking at Killian, "Are... animal attacks a specific concern?" he asked.

"My nephew lost his father to a bear attack when he was rather young, I was just worried how he might respond. Still, your track record speaks for itself." Killian said.

"As does our actual track record, if your nephew is interested in sports at all." Julio smiled.

"Well, not sports... But extra-curriculars and clubs? That I think he'd love to see. You don't happen to have any directory of that, or pamphlets?" Killian asked. Julio smiled and nodded.

"Why don't I get you a copy of our directory, see if there's anything that interests him." Julio said, standing up to move over to his filing cabinet. Killian sipped the water from the waxy paper cup again, hoping he'd at least be able to find something.

****

The classroom set aside for theory theory felt as redundant as the class did. Fletcher sat near the back, dead center. His pencil rested in his hand, his notebook was open, but his eyes were unfocused and a bit vague. Every so often his head started to droop and he struggled to bring it back up again. He'd never had trouble staying awake in class before, but the professor just felt too old and too crazy to teach anything of merit, let alone a subject so vague. Fletcher tried to focus on the man, to see if he could sync back up with the lesson at hand.

"The whatness of the table is its essential tableness. The qualities of a table it has, what it is, is defined by those qualities... and that is what makes it what it is. Now, let's consider a group of dogs. They're all dogs, but this one isn't. This one participates in catness." The white haired professor explained. Fletcher's jaw dropped slowly and his eyes glazed over even more.

Fletcher shook his head a bit and brought his attention back to his notebook. He didn't understand why it was a mandatory class, but it was going to drive him insane. There were so many more worthwhile things he could be doing, like learning from Ethan. Fletcher's pencil started to move, the graphite spreading out on the page. Fletcher started to sketch out, starting with curving lines and circles. He drew the unrisen moon symbol, the one Ethan had put on his forehead. It was the sign of an initiate. Next he drew the intersecting lines of the failed Keeper, and then the symbol of the moon over rippling water.

It seemed like the keepers had their entire society in check. They had their traditions, their education, their behaviors and code and everything. It seemed lonely and noble in a way, devoting one's life to protecting those they cared about. Fletcher understood it on the one hand. He wanted Marco and Artyom and Udo to be alright, to be safe for the rest of their lives. He'd do anything to see them safe - but at the same time, it was a thankless job. After the full moons the wolves were recharged and the keepers were exhausted. The wolves got to live more normal lives because the keepers lived less normal. Fletcher didn't get it.

Before he realized it, Fletcher felt his fist resting against his temple. His head had been drooping more and more before it nudged his forehead, acting as the perfect stand. Fletcher's eyes fluttered shut, his pencil fell from his hand and he fell asleep. His body felt as though it was drifting down, floating on a mist before he came crashing through the trees, falling back into the swamp, a swamp he was becoming all too familiar with.

"Hello! I know you're out there!" Fletcher called out through the fog, hearing his echoes die away. He rubbed at his arms a bit, "No need to catch me by surprise and all." 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?" asked the unseen shadow.

"I'm already dying... I've just been stabbed. I kind of was hoping for an alternative solution." Fletcher called out. He stopped dead as two gleaming red eyes opened before him, reflecting the dim light. The creature's fur looked as if it was made out of shadow soaked in blood. Yellowed fangs slowly glimmered in the light. Fletcher bit his bottom lip, "Nick said that a werewolf could loan me his strength, his healing."

"Oh, we can... In this place we can. The question is, why would we? Humans are good only as food." The shadow wolf said, licking his lips slowly.

"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. The shadow wolf jumped down from the tree limb, landing in the water. As his paws sunk in, the swamp started to darken, staining black. Tendrils crept outward in every direction.

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

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

"Is your hunger to live that strong? Do you spit in the face of death?" The shadow asked.

"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. The black wolf rose up on his hind legs, coming to the standing position. He stood almost eight feet tall with broad shoulders and hundreds of pounds of muscle. His fur was slick and oily, his ears gnarled, his teeth grizzled and his red eyes intense.

"What makes you think that you have any right to tell the black alpha, to tell me, what I am going to do?!" The wolf 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, but said nothing for a long moment.

"What is it that you want?" The shadow wolf asked.

"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, he must be a werewolf, yes?" The shadow wolf asked. Fletcher nodded. The wolf grinned, "And you love him, you love this wolf." The shadow wolf grinned.

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

"I want... you to protect me too, to help me." The shadow wolf replied. Fletcher looked surprised at that.

"What could I do?" he asked.

"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." He replied. Fletcher took a slow breath. He knew when Nyctimus had sent him into the forest that he'd be making a deal with the devil. He knew this was what he had been waiting for. He would get to save Marco, to protect him, to live again. Fletcher held out his hand in an offering of a deal. The shadow wolf reached out and took Fletcher's hand in his paw. Fletcher gasped as the grip tightened and then tightened more. Slowly the wolf's claws started to pierce his flesh.

As the two held hands, the tainted water swirled around Fletcher, wrapping around his ankles. Tendrils of spiraling black ink crept up his legs, disappearing beneath his tunic before coming across his stomach and spine. Moments later they spiraled down his arms and crept up his neck. The shadow wolf leaned in closer as Fletcher's body tightened, his muscles locking up.

A wet, black nose nudged Fletcher's lips before the shadow wolf tilted his head and his lips parted. A thick, canine tongue plunged into Fletcher's mouth. It tasted like coppery blood and aged meats. Fletcher half gagged, but at the same time he started to feel aroused... and it was then that he felt his mouth spreading open wider. The shadow wolf's body dissolved into a thick mist and poured into Fletcher. The black in his eyes rippled before the black spread out entirely, coating his eyes in obsidian tones. The wolf before him continued to dissolve and be absorbed until he was entirely gone.

Fletcher stood in the swamp alone, covered in black tribal markings. Ever so slowly his lips parted, revealing two sharp fangs. A long, pointed tongue slowly crossed his lips before it snapped back in. Fletcher felt his heart rate pick up, his temperature climbing, and somewhere deep inside of himself he felt that he was starting to heal, but he also felt that he wasn't alone. Someone else was there, someone was too close, someone was a threat. Fletcher reached out and for the briefest of moments felt as if his hand had wrapped around someone's throat, but in that moment his eyes snapped open and he gasped, nearly falling out of his chair.

Fletcher was back in the theory theory classroom, right where he'd fallen asleep. His sudden awakening had startled no one as the other students were too sleepy themselves to notice and the professor was too absorbed in his stories to care. Fletcher felt scared, elated, amazed and freaked out. The dream had been intense and detailed. He brought his pencil down and started to write out everything that had happened. He'd been in a swamp, there had been red eyes, and the wolf had spoken to him. It had said... it had said... But the words weren't coming back to Fletcher.

"What's the point of living if you're going to die? That's stupid. That's ironic." The theory professor said.

"What's the point of living if you're NOT going to die?" Another student asked.

"That's the story of Dracula." The professor replied without missing a beat. With each passing second the dream faded more from Fletcher's mind, his memory of it leeching away. His brows furrowed in disgust and he groaned. The last bits of the dream faded away, leaving Fletcher with nothing. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, weary sigh.

**** The night had grown late and Echo Creek Coffee had nearly closed up for the evening. The main lights had been shut off, leaving only the white Christmas lights taped up across the ceiling to cast a soft, warm ambiance. Thackary had cleared off the counter tops, cleaned the coffee machines and the oven, and the dishwasher was rumbling away, washing the rest. Through all his time cleaning, though, Thackary's last customer still hadn't left.

Killian sat in the corner of the shop with his laptop, his chair aimed at the corner so he could see where the two streets came together outside. Every so often he'd glance up at the people walking by before his attention went back to the laptop. Thackary hung up his dish towel and moved over to the much smaller, much more simplistic coffee machine sitting at the far end of the production counter. While the big machines were for customers, he kept the small machine for his own use when he had to come in early.

Thackary pulled out two paper cups, filling them both with the last of the coffee. He reached up onto the wall and pulled out two packets of sugar. A splenda for himself, and an earthy brown colored packet for the other cup. Once everything was mixed together, he carried the cups over to where Killian was sitting.

"So what has kept you occupied these many hours?" Thackary asked conversationally. Killian glanced at his watch before letting out a slight grunt.

"I guess it has been a while... I'm sorry, you probably want to close up shop." Killian said. Thackary smirked a bit.

"I already did, but don't worry. I won't kick you out until you're ready. Whatever it is, it seems important." Thackary said, setting Killian's cup down. Killian glanced at it and then back at the barista. Thackary rolled his eyes, "It's on the house, come on." He muttered. Killian lifted the cup after a moment and sipped at it before letting out a soft sigh of relief.

"Have you ever looked at Egyptian hieroglyphics, or company logos, or modern art? Do you ever see the same patterns repeating over and over again? Some people say they are arch types imbedded in our subconscious, but others believe that they are connected... that they mean something." Killian said, sliding his chair to the side enough to reveal his screen. On the left side he had a wide pool of icons gathered and on the right side he was sifting through pictures and scanned documents, finding eerily similar matches. There were circles above lines of rippling water, circles beneath lines like a curved horizon, two pairs of triangles pointing upwards.

"Wow... That's pretty neat. Are you some sort of anthropologist?" Thackary asked. Killian smirked a bit more at that.

"Well, I've had to be a bit of everything in my time... I've seen things you wouldn't even believe." Killian said, reaching for the touchpad on his laptop. As he extended his arm, though, his index finger started to twitch. Killian looked at it for a moment before realizing the rest of his hand went numb. Killian slowly lifted his left hand, realizing that it too was suffering the same symptoms.

The chair fell away from his body as he sprung to his feet, turning around. He brought out a knife, though after a moment it fell from his hands, clattering to the floor. Killian's breathing became labored before his legs gave out beneath him and he fell onto his knees. The brooding dark eyes flashed back to Thackary.

"What... did... you... do?" he panted, feeling his tongue starting to dry out.

"It's a three stage poison. Flavorless, odorless, textureless. Each part is harmless on its own and can linger for months." Thackary replied.

"Wh... Why?!" Killian murmured, eyes widening. Thackary cracked his bright, cheery grin before he gestured to the street outside.

"Because this place is protected. This is a place of peace. It is no place for a hunter." Thackary replied.

"Keeper?" Killian hissed, his eyes slowly dilating wider, finding it harder to breath. Thackary nodded, moving over to lower the blinds around the shop.

"You think you're doing the world a favor with your persecution, but Echo Creek hasn't had a murder of its citizens in twenty nine years, well, technically. The only thing to go missing is livestock, and you'd be surprised how generous the farm insurance is around here to replace that sort of thing." Thackary said before he moved back and crouched in front of Killian, "The only thing dangerous in this town is you." He replied. Killian snarled and reached for Thackary but his hand merely slid down Thackary's throat before he fell onto his chest. Thackary watched Killian take his last few breaths before his body went still and motionless.

Thackary slowly stood back up and moved over to the laptop. He opened the running processes tab and checked for instant message clients, spyware, timer programs or anything else that Killian might have used to protect himself. To his delight, there was nothing. It seemed that the hunter had been operating on his own for once. Thackary felt relief at that. He hated dismantling networks of hunters. The barista set the laptop to hibernate and closed it up, moving to put it behind his counter before he grabbed the supplies he'd need to finish cleaning up the shop before morning. It was going to be a long night.