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Lykos - Lone Wolf

Chapter 22

A resounding smack echoed off the trees of the night-shrouded woods, making Jack and Jessica wince. Mitchell raised his hand to cradle his slowly reddening cheek in the illumination of the barrier, its light making the spreading mark visible despite the gloom. "Yeah... I figured you'd be mad," he said in resignation.

"You're damned right I'm mad!" Helen said, trembling with fury. "How dare you go off to risk your life and not even bother to tell me you were doing so! I'm your WIFE Mitchell! Did it ever occur to you to think about how I would feel to be told you had died because you snuck off to do something dangerous without even bothering to tell me about it? You had no right to keep me in the dark like that!"

"I didn't tell you because I thought you'd try to stop me," the keeper said softly to the woman he loved.

"From doing WHAT, exactly?" the woman asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She saw her husband hesitate. "I have a right to know!" she said firmly, her jaw clenched tight.

He sighed. "Protecting the wolves from the direwolf."

"If the monster you told me about was running around out here, then why go inside?" she asked, pointing at the wall of magical force.

"Because it was somehow able to hide itself inside," Mitchell answered grimly. "We still don't know how the direwolf managed to get inside without us detecting it, but it was in there and if we hadn't acted, many wolves would be dead right now. I had no choice but to go in after it!"

"You mean you deliberately went inside there to pick a fight with it?!?" Helen exploded.

"He had to," Ino said, walking towards them, drawn by the shouting.

"Why?" Helen asked. "The werewolves are strong enough to take care of themselves, right?" she said, looking around at everyone in confusion. "You told me they can heal themselves and that the healing was even stronger during the full moon."

"Against a normal foe, yes," Ino said gravely, "but the enemy we faced tonight was far more powerful than anything I have seen before. Even with the packs and keepers working together, we had a very difficult time defeating the direwolf."

"But you beat it, didn't you?" Helen asked. "You stopped it and everyone's safe now, right?"

"Most of us, yes," Ino said gravely, bowing her head.

"Most?" Helen went pale.

"Two wolves died tonight. We will tend to their bodies in the morning, once the power of the moon has waned and their bodies change back."

"Who?" Helen asked softly. "Was it anyone I know?"

Ino shook her head. "No one you know personally. Those lost were Berke's omega Samuel and one of Angela's betas, Edwin."

"Actually," Mitchell said, "he always hated his given name, so everyone called him Butch."

Ino nodded in acknowledgement. "Butch then. We will tend to the bodies come sunrise. Mitchell," she said, turning to the man. "Tell Helen why you chose to risk your life."

He nodded, sat his wife down and told her about the dreams. "So many..." Helen said softly once he had finished, looking shell-shocked. "But they're okay now, especially Kyle?" The description of his death, especially Ben's version of the premonition as told by Mitchell, rattled the woman deeply. Kyle was her favorite, and to hear the description of his death had horrified her.

Mitchell gave a sad smile. "He's alright. Samuel and Butch lost their lives, but if the dreams had come true, many others would have died instead. Kyle, Luke, Steve, Ben, Berke and Wallace, not to mention a few others."

"Then you did the right thing," Helen said, staring at her hands clasped over he knees.

"Helen," Mitchell said softly, "you know I love you... I'm sorry, but I had to do this."

"So you're telling me that I have to share you with them," she said sadly, staring at the barrier of light, the pale radiance shining in her eyes. She smiled slightly. "Well at least it's not an affair," she added, the joke falling flat.

"That," Ino said softly, "is the burden carried by all those who love keepers... To know that the love of the one they hold dear will always be divided."

Helen sighed heavy, stood up and walked slowly towards the barrier. "They're really kind of helpless in some ways, aren't they? Alright... I'll learn to live with it. I love them too... I only wish I was powerful too. Strong enough to help protect them..." She hung her head. "But I'm not strong. I can't move things with my mind, start fires or see the future. All I have is me."

Ino moved forward to join her. "There are many keepers who never possess special talents or abilities. Many keepers are simply ordinary people, ones with only their love and devotion to give... In the end, that is all that is truly required for one to become a keeper."

"Really?" Helen asked, turning to her. "Do you think I'd make a good keeper?"

Ino turned to face her with a stern expression. "The role of a keeper is not to be taken lightly. There will be hardship and sacrifice... You will need to keep secrets that you will wish you did not have to. You will be required to do things that will change you in ways you will not like. The life of a keeper is one of pain and sacrifice. Your life will also be in danger, for there are forces in the world that will always seek to destroy us and our charges. It is not the type of life that most people would wish to live."

"I'm not afraid," Helen said with a firm chin. "I may not be able to do much, but any help I can give, I will."

Ino nodded. "Even the smallest of efforts carry the greatest of significance, whether they are praised or ignored. As long as you love the wolves and are willing to do whatever it takes to keep them safe, you will make for a fine keeper. We welcome you."

"Helen," Mitchell said gently, stepping forward with a worried look on his face. "Are you sure you want to do this? You may end up doing something you'll regret for the rest of your life... There are things the keepers have to do that even we don't like from time to time," he said, reiterating Ino's explanation of the life of a keeper.

She sighed. "I know you haven't been entirely honest with me, Mitch," she said, turning to face him, the light of the barrier making the edges of her hair glow in a ghostly fashion.

"I'm tired of being kept in the dark. I love them, and I'm willing to fight if I have to. I understand the risks involved and I really like them... I want to fight for them too."

He walked up and hugged her tightly as the others stepped away to give them some privacy.

Ino took her leave with a nod to Jack and Jessica. The young woman sighed, turning to her cousin. "I want to go find Robert," Jessica said sadly.

"Go ahead," Jack said with a nod and a rub of her shoulder in support. "I'll take care of things here," he said, turning back to the barrier.

Jessica waked away, heading to the Western side of the sanctuary where Robert was patrolling the edge of the barrier to make sure it was intact and undisturbed. It took some time to get there, but when she did, the woman found Robert sitting on the ground, crying softly. He looked up when he heard her approaching, and the light of the barrier shone in his damp eyes. "Butch is dead... I failed..." he said thickly.

Jessica sat down beside the man she was coming to love, took him into her arms, and held him as he sobbed over the loss of one of his charges...

*****

Sinclaire huddled into his winter coat with a shiver as he waited in the woods at the rondevu site. *Where the fuck is he?* the man thought to himself, his thick black eyebrows, ones under a short forehead beneath short black hair, beetling and his clean-shaven face set in a frown. *That idiot better stick to the plan,* he grumbled mentally. He was a large, but well proportioned man in his early thirties, dressed for the weather with his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold.

His hand searched nervously in his pocket until he found what he was looking for and pulled out a small stone identical to the one Don had. The glyphs glowed softly, showing that the power of the masking stone was concealing his presence from anyone trying to locate him. He sighed with relief and re-pocketed the stone. *At least that much is going right,* he thought as he shifted from one foot to the other. He was dying for a smoke, but couldn't afford to light up as the smell would carry and the glow of the cigarette could be spotted at a distance as well.

"Come on, Asshole!" he muttered. "Quit screwing around in there! I'm fucking freezing out here!"

Several minutes later, he felt a buzzing in his other pocket and pulled out his phone to read the text.

>D is lost. Return.<

"Shit!" Sinclaire swore, jamming the phone back into his pocket and making a beeline out of the area, his tracks filling in behind him as he went. He reached the car, got in and drove away quickly with the lights off to further avoid detection. "Stupid fucking moron! I knew it was a mistake to use that pathetic wannabe!" he ranted out loud to no one.

"A big, fat, fucking waste of time..." he muttered with disgust as he stopped to pick up Don's vehicle, using the tow bar he'd brought as a just in case, hooked up the SUV and drove off into the night, heading back towards Seattle. He would need to clean up Don's apartment to make sure there was nothing that could lead back to them.

He lit a cigarette, and after he was over twenty miles from the sanctuary, pulled off the road, then rooted around in Don's car before returning to his own, opened the tool kit and pulled out a pair of vice grips. He put Don's iPod into the teeth of the tool, finally doing what he'd longed to do since he'd met the jerk, and began to whistle part of the marching tune from 'Peter and the Wolf', ending the bar of the music with a squelching, raspberry-type of sound as he crushed the music player in the vice grips until it shattered.

He threw the tool and remains of the player into the truck of his car with an air of contempt and walked back to the driver's door.

"If I never hear that fucking tune again, it'll be too soon," he muttered to himself before he got in and drove away...

*****

Ben shuddered in a sexual bliss that almost made him overcome his regret that the night was over as his body finished its transformation back to his human form. He stood there for a moment, sighing with disappointment that his luscious dark fur was gone once more, what he grew on his tail not being enough for him, then shivered and opened his eyes to see his packmates finishing their own reverse changes. He shivered again, this time from the cold air of the winter morning and hastily put on his clothes, hissing in distaste as the ice cold fabric slid over his bare skin.

His eyes fell on Kyle once he was dressed, and sensing the gaze of his alpha, the beta looked up to him with a smile laced with a trace of sadness. Ben strode over, took Kyle in his arms and kissed him deeply with passion for several minutes, relief coming off of him in waves through the bond. While Ben loved all of his pack and his personal mate Steve the most, Kyle meant a great deal to Ben, just as he did to the rest of them. Kyle was the heart and soul of their pack, and his loss would've torn them apart even if he had been the only one of them to die. Steve felt no jealousy at Ben's display of love, for he felt the same way about their goofy, greedy, impulsive little wolf-born.

They all gathered together in a group hug, sharing their love and gratitude that he was safe. To Ben, Kyle's premonized death had hit the hardest. At least Luke had died quickly in his version of the dream. He knew that watching the life drain out of Kyle's severed head would haunt him for the rest of his days despite the fact that they had prevented the terrible fate from happening.

"Group mating tonight, okay?" Ben said to them all, feeling a wave of silent agreement and eager horniness at the suggestion as the answer from his pack.

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and began walking back to the entrance, Steve leading the way as Ben still had not quite yet gotten a full mental map of the sanctuary's layout. He made a plan to drive out here sometime before the next full moon to wander around and familiarize himself with where everything was located within the sanctuary.

As they walked, Marcus found himself feeling jittery, like he'd had too much caffeine. "Man!" he said, "I feel like I could climb a mountain right now! Is this the way I'm supposed to feel? I mean I didn't sleep a wink all night and all I can feel is pumped right now!"

"It's like that for all of us," Luke said with a smile. "The full moon revitalizes us. You'll feel like this after every full moon."

"Did you enjoy it?" Kyle asked his mate. "You know... I mean once we could relax... After the direwolf died."

"Yeah, I enjoyed it," Marcus said with a sad smile, then ran a hand over his face. "Whoa!" he said, noting that his normally clean-shaven face was now covered in man-fuzz.

"What happened? Why do I suddenly have a beard?" he asked, noting that his facial hair was grown out into a short beard. He looked around to see that everyone's head and facial hair was now either grown out or grown longer than they had been yesterday.

Steve gave a wry chuckle. "Get used to it," he said. "Hair growth is a side effect of the primal transformation. The full moon seems to supercharge it. We can take turns trimming when we get home."

"Me first!" Kyle grumbled, scratching his lower face with both hands. It was clear that his beard was incredibly itchy and making him miserable.

Ben lowered his head by a fraction of an inch and felt the longer hairs of his beard tickle his collarbone. He lifted his head and rubbed his skin with a grumble. "I think I'm going get used to hating this very quickly," he said with irritation. To him, a beard was supposed to be very short. It was more of an aesthetic, as far as he was concerned... It was just supposed to provide color and mild texture, not hang down long and unruly. "I feel like a homeless guy," he muttered.

Steve was also running his hand over his overgrown hair, the buzz-cut having grown out into a wavy look like the one that Ben preferred to sport, rather than the more 'Kevin Sorbo as Hercules' look the alpha had now. They both sighed, resigning themselves to the longer locks until they could get home and trim their hair back to the desired lengths.

Steve also noted that his short-trimmed beard, which he'd kept similar to that of his mate, was now longer as well.

They reached the entrance to the sanctuary and saw Angela talking to Ino and Mitchell.

"Hey," Ben said sadly. "Are you holding up? You know... In light of what happened?"

"We're handling it as best we can," she said softly.

"Yeah," Lance added. "You know something? He was always saying he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory... Guess he got his wish." The beta didn't look happy at that, but he had no reason to do so, as far as the Head Alpha was concerned.

"He died with honor," Ino said, bowing her head.

Nearby, Robert was looking rather worn out and red faced, his eyes puffy, as if he'd spent the night crying. *Of course,* Ben thought, remembering that Robert was the keeper of Angela's pack. He looked as though he was taking Butch's loss rather hard. Beside him, Jessica was rubbing his back supportively, looking nearly as sad as he did.

Ben and company looked to the head keeper and Ino lifted her head to speak to him, but stopped as she looked past the Head Alpha. He turned to follow her gaze, and saw Berke coming out of the woods, carrying the dressed body of Samuel in his arms and his pack trailing somberly in his wake. It was a sad visual, like something out of a war movie despite the civilian clothes they wore.

No one said anything as Berke walked up and laid his omega's body down gently beside that of Butch. The faces of the corpses were slack and pale, but there was no blood left on the bodies, at least none that was visible. Samuel's chest seemed oddly distorted, and Ben realized with sadness that his severed torso had been laid back into place to give the fallen wolf some semblance of dignity. Butch had a hankerchief wrapped around his throat to mask the fact that the front half of it was missing, the red fabric looking sunken in against his neck.

Berke rose up and Ino placed her hand on his large shoulder in silent sympathy. He reached up to squeeze the hand gently, then turned away, the head keeper's hand sliding off as he moved and turned to Ben. The Head Alpha took his brother in his arms and held him close, hugging the burly wolf tightly.

"It should've been me," Berke said softly in a tone that was so low that only Ben could hear it.

Ben just hugged him tighter. "It shouldn't have been anyone," he answered in the same way.

Berke sighed. "True," he said, then pulled away.

"Call if you need anything," Ben told him.

Berke nodded and kissed Ben gently on the cheek. "I'm glad you all survived."

"And I'm glad I still have my big brother," Ben answered solemnly.

Berke's mouth quirked as he nodded, then walked away.

"Ben," Ino said calmly. "You did very well last night. Many would be dead now if not for your insight and skill. I wish to speak with you soon. As the respective leaders of the community, we will be working closely together."

Ben nodded. "Just say when and where... But for now, I just want some more time with my pack."

"Of course," Ino said with a bow of the head before she turned and walked away with Mitchell at her side.

Jack saw them and walked over, looking practically dead on his feet. "Jessica wants to keep Robert company," the human said solemnly.

Ben nodded at that. "Let's go home," the alpha said, then led the way back to Marcus' van. They got in with Kyle offering to drive, what with Marcus not yet knowing the way home, and pulled onto the road that led away from the place that could have easily been the last place they'd ever been. The pack rode in silence as Jack fell asleep, the werewolves basking in the light of the sun that most of them had thought they would never see or feel again...

*****

It wasn't until that afternoon when Sinclair let himself into the modified warehouse-turned-residence that he shared with everyone else. He entered to find Derek and Rachel making out on the couch. Derek with his Van Dyke beard and black hair with a muscular body, wearing only a pair of black jeans; and the woman, Rachel, with long dark brunette hair that was loose over her voluptuous frame and tight black mini-dress. He groaned in suffering and ignored them, turning his attention to his grandmother, the old woman sighing in disappointment as she ground up something with the granite mortar and pestle. She paused, seeming to sense his approach, and turned ice green eyes upon him as she looked up from her task.

"Finished cleaning?" she asked in a tone that would have made her sound like a kindly old grandmother, if not for the slightly sinister undertone to her voice. She looked like the classic hag, with long, stringy white hair that was kinked and unbound to fall down to just past her shoulders, and framing a withered, yet oddly sweet-looking face. Her clothing was an old, moth-eaten robe that was of multiple faded colors, like a mumu that had outlived its usefulness by several decades; with a stained graying apron tied over it. She had on a gaudy, heavy necklace of silver and amethyst that looked like it took all her strength to avoid falling forward from the weight of. Her wrinkled, skeletal hands bore several rings and bracelets adorned her thin, leathery wrists. She worked at an old-fashioned wooden table on a slightly raised section of floor which sat about three inches above the rest of the floor of the apartment-like interior of the upper floor of their makeshift home, the counters and cabinets behind her covered with various herbs, potions, tools and books and looking for all the world like a cut out from an occultist's apothecary.

"Yeah," Sinclaire said sourly, stopping several feet from the table. "Mind telling me why I nearly froze my ass off out in the woods last night? Why didn't you tell me that Don was going to blow it?"

Esmerelda sighed and placed the pestle in the mortar. "I had hoped that he would surprise us," she said calmly.

"But you weren't sure?" Sinclaire asked, his teeth clenched.

Esmerelda shrugged, spreading her boney hands. "One can never be sure of anything," she said simply.

"Well I'll tell you one thing I AM sure about!" Sinclaire said hotly. "Your plans suck! I nearly froze to death out there, for all you care, you incompetent old witch!"

Derek and Rachel stopped kissing and turned their heads to look at him. "Uh oh," Rachel said gleefully with a grin of amusement as she turned onto her side, Derek moving over to lay behind her so that they could watch the show, spooning her from behind.

"This is going to be good," he whispered, licking her ear while keeping his eyes on the other two people in the room.

The old woman sighed heavily, shaking her head as she lowered her arms slowly. "If you were not my own grandchild, I would be very cross with you right now."

"I don't care what you think, Grandmother! You swore this would give me what I want, but all I've seen so far is the floundering efforts of a dried up old hag!"

Esmerelda just stared at him for a moment and smacked her lips; looking, for all the world, like she was deciding which flavor of soup to make for lunch. Her hand shot forward suddenly, her fingers clenching the air like claws as she reached out towards him despite the distance between them, and Sinclaire began to gurgle, clutching his throat as he was lifted up into the air. The witch gestured, and he was send flying across the room to slam hard against the bare brick wall. The crone sighed as she walked towards him, turning her hand as she held it clenched in the air, rotating the man to face her as he was held pinned high against the unyielding surface.

She shook her head slowly as she stopped a few feet from him and spoke in a tone of sadness and disappointment. "Now I know my dear sweet, departed Carol raised you with more manners than that, you ungrateful little brat... I swear, the way you young people treat your elders with such disrespect... It only confirms my belief that the world truly has gone to shit," she said in an air of deep disappointment.

He stared down at her, turning blue in the face. Meanwhile, on the couch, Derek slid his hand around Rachel's front to cup her breast, kissing her neck while keeping his eyes on the show as he squeezed the mound of sensitive flesh with his fingers until his grip was painful. Rachel looked at the display hungrily, wanting to see the old woman finally twist Sinclaire's head off the way he was all but begging her to do, hissing softly at the delightful torment in her ample chest.

Esmerelda stared at her grandson with a thoughtful expression as his face began to turn purple. "This was a test... Nothing more. If Don had actually succeeded, we would have had further use for him, but he failed as I believed he most likely would." She released Sinclaire, who dropped painfully to the floor, gasping for breath. She turned away from him.

"The test, sadly, was not as fruitful as I had hoped. I suppose it's my own fault, really. Who knew that telepathy could still get through the protection? I was unaware that they had such a strong telepath among them... It seems that our enemies somehow got tipped off about the plan, despite my best efforts to shroud the future from the werewolves and keepers. It must have taken a considerably powerful will to punch through my blockage... That can be the only way they were able to receive a vision of what was to come...

Rather curious, really." She sighed with regret, feeling disappointed. "If only the stone had worked as well as I had hoped it would, but a battlefield trial was the most effective way to test the usefulness of it."

"Can you make it guard against telepathy as well?" Derek asked from the couch, masking his disappointment that she hadn't killed the insufferable asshole she was related to.

"Not anymore," she admitted gravely. "The test stone was not destroyed with Don's body as it was meant to be. Somehow they managed to get it out of him and far enough away from the masking stone's destructive reach before it was triggered. The keepers have it now. They will be able to study it and learn how to defend against the shielding magic...

Oh well," she said with a shrug of regret, "it was a flawed creation anyways. The power only works so long as the protected one does not attack, and that will never do for our purposes. No... I'm afraid that the protection stone is a doomed experiment. We will have to rely on more subtle means of accomplishing our goals."

"I thought you said," Derek spoke slowly, "that they didn't have anyone who could do the things you can among them."

"True," the witch said with a nod.

"Then how can they learn how to stop the power of the shielding stone?" the man asked with a frown.

Esmerelda sighed. "Neuromancy and true magic have their similarities. To a strong neuromancer, it is possible to learn how to counter the power of the stone. I know that they have at least one strong neuromancer among the ranks of their keepers. There may be others. I do not know."

"And why is that?" Sinclaire croaked.

The old woman frowned at him. "Because even I have limits to my abilities. There are gifts that I lack which others, our enemies, namely, possess. Fortunately, I AM able to counter those gifts in my own way, so our enemies cannot scry us out or predict our actions... At least I WAS confident on that last part," she muttered distractedly, moving back to the table in search of the tool that would assist her at the moment. "Such a pity about the shielding stone..." she said again with disappointment.

"They won't be able to use it to find us, will they?" Rachel asked, brushing her long hair away from her face as she rose from the couch, Derek following her to their feet.

"Oh goodness no," Esmerelda said with a smile, shuffling an old, stained deck of tarot cards before she began to lay them out. "I made quite sure to leave no traces on the stone that could lead back to us."

"So what's the plan?" Derek asked as Sinclaire sat up, rubbing his throat and still coughing. He took Rachel by the hand and led her to the second floor window of their home to gaze out at the skyscrapers of downtown Seattle, the Space Needle visible among them in the distance.

"For now," the old woman said, laying down another card, "we take a bit of a break while we strategize... We will need to change our approach to the problem, especially in light of the new complications," she said slowly, looking at the last card she put down thoughtfully.

"I can hardly wait," Rachel said with eager anticipation.

"Me either," Derek said, kissing the back of her neck.

"Just make sure your pack is ready when the time comes," Esmerelda said kindly.

"We will be," Derek said with enthusiasm as he and Rachel stared out at the city with eyes that were blood red.

Esmerelda stroked the card thoughtfully before she got up from the table, the King of Swords sitting in profile upon the throne with black hair and beard...

...Anyone who knew him would say that the figure upon the card looked an awful lot like Ben.

...END OF SEASON ONE.