A/N/Edit 5/02/19: Sometime in the past few months, the channel hosting the former song for this chapter - "Hungry Like the Wolf", as best as I can recall - was terminated, taking the video with it. In a way, this is a blessing in disguise, as "I Know I'm a Wolf" by Young Heretics is an arguably better fit. Enjoy!
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August 31, 1773
Earlier that evening, Hooklaw called the black werewolf over. "Nachthur, I have a favor to ask of you. Do it well, and Theaswif shall retire to a position as an Elder, and you shall be Beta. Fail me, and you will not see the light of day."
Nachthur bristled at the thought of what would happen should he fail. "Are you threatening me?" he asked, a growl rippling from his chest.
"It is not I who will take your life should you fail: I need you to get my journal back from the hands of the Lycancullers. If they read the entire thing, they will know fairly well what to expect from me come the new moon, which could spell disaster for us all."
"I am not a dog to fetch your things, Hooklaw. Vhy can't you do it yourself?"
"They would expect me to come for it, Nachthur. If it makes it easier for you, then know this: Your family begs on the street corners for coin and food, and nobody has had the heart to tell them of your supposed slipping of the wind, though they know it well enough. Remember, though: The pine wishes herself a shrub when the ax is at her root."
"Understood," Nachthur said, as he slipped inconspicuously into the shadows of the forest as the sun set below the horizon, the streetlamps of Chester lighting up as the lamplighter made his rounds. It would soon be difficult to follow Hooklaw's advice to remain unseen, though the oil lamps were rather dim and did not illuminate a very wide area.
Keeping to the shadows, Nachthur made use of his dark coat to hide, and his sense of smell to find his quarry. Before long, he found an odd yet familiar scent entering his nostrils, and he heard the cries of his poor family, abandoned by the town to the creatures of the night. The notion of his family's vulnerability to the vampires, let alone his own kind, roiled his blood, and he came after them in earnest.
The Vampire Slayers were active tonight, but not the Lycancullers. That was something he could use to his advantage, should the need arise, and indeed it did, for a sibilant shadow screeched in front of him as he neared his family: a vampire had found them as well. Tensing himself up, he lunged at the undead man, tearing the creature's cloak before it knew what had happened. Unable to fly, for the cloak formed the wings, the pallid creature turned to face in Nachthur's direction. "Who daresh to interrupt my shearch for shushtenance?" the vampire asked, its masculine baritone offset by a slight lisp. "Vell? Show yourshelvshes!"
Nachthur heeded the vampire's request violently, lunging out of the shadows and tearing out the vampire's heart. "Nobody stands betveen me and my family," he growled quietly.
His family stared at him in wide-eyed awe and horror; having seen something that should not have come that night, his wife thought to cry out about a werewolf breaching the perimeter, but thought better of it: had not that same werewolf just saved them? Her apparent relief was short-lived, however, as Nachthur padded over to her quietly and gently bit her and their children.
An hour later, David Smith stood in his doorway shocked - how had Sean Hooke made it through the town unnoticed? Surely the streetlamps would have been more than enough for a practiced Werewolf Hunter or Vampire Slayer to make him out in the peripheral shadows, but not a single word had reached his ears of the traitor stalking the streets. Now, two of the children living on the streets had been bitten, and they were heading right for his study, where Sean Hooke's journal currently lay open alongside an ink jar and quill. "What does it matter if they were children? They are mere beasts now," David grumbled, grabbing the musket that leaned against the doorframe. A metallic clatter clanged against the stone threshold and he cried, "Levant me! They broke the barrel!"
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The Otherkin Chronicles ¦ Book 1: Lycan
Ficción histórica"When he got bitten on the full moon, at first he felt nothing, then pain - only pain." Sean Hooke was the best Werewolf Hunter in colonial America. A fervent believer in their need to be eradicated after the death of his wife five years earlier at...