Having an incubus in the mix certainly made things interesting. I wouldn't call Doron a friend, exactly, but his talent for lust made for explosive encounters, both during and after our interactions with women. We shared succubi, fae, vampires, and anyone else who caught our eye, and when pickings were slim, I took Doron himself.
In my early teens, I'd never thought about my sexuality. I expected to find a mate, have an heir, fulfil what I believed to be my ‘father's' expectations of me. Nothing else mattered and so nothing else was open for discussion. Then I discovered the truth of my birth, and month by month, year by year, I lost any belief that I could live an ordinary life. My existence would be short, lived only with the permission of someone more powerful than I could ever be, and in the moments that I was granted an escape from Tiw, my task, and my pack, I sought solace in bottles and bedsheets. I very quickly learned that I appreciated more than the female form alone. I also learned that incubi were exceptionally good at bringing pleasure to other men, and that made my acquaintance with Doron exciting, at least for a time.
There was no love lost on any of my sexual encounters. My liaisons were short bursts of physical pleasure sought to blot out the soul crushing reality of my existence. They were fantasies which always ended the same way, with a lingering, resentful feeling of being unfulfilled, no matter how many times my partners had screamed my name in ecstasy. Every encounter was hallow, and I became hallow in return.
“You can't go on like this, Beorn,” Aethelwig chided, “You're pulling away from the pack, disappearing night after night, going the-gods-know-where and doing the-gods-know-who-and-what. At times you seem so cold... cruel, even, but that isn't you. That has never been you.”
I turned my gaze on my cousin, who had blossomed into womanhood while I'd become so much less that I'd thought possible, even when the Chief had me beaten as a child. She was everything a wolf should be; strong, brave, a fighter. She wasn't afraid to tell me that she disapproved of how I lived my life, while others had learned to give me a wide berth. I knew they whispered behind my back. Some blamed the Chief for my ‘rebellion', some blamed my mother's death, others blamed me. Aethelwig was in the latter camp, but she didn't whisper. Nor did Aethelmær.
“I told you if you turned into him, I'd leave this pack,” he reminded me, maybe trying to incite an apology.
“I haven't turned into our Chief. What I do, I do for the good of the pack.”
My cousin snorted his disbelief. “Sure, you bang an incubus in the store room of his cesspit bar for the good of the pack.”
“No,” I answered firmly, “I bang an incubus in the store room of his cesspit bar because for a few moments all I'm aware of is how good sex feels. Then it ends and I come back to this reality; I am duty bound to a pack which is learning to loath me, and I will do what needs to be done for them, even though you would all despise me if you knew the truth. Don't speak of what you don't understand, Aethelmaer. You live a sheltered life, be grateful for it. I'd give an arm to be so free.”
My cousin stiffened, his jaw clenching. “You patronise me. The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree.”
That observation made, he stalked away, his fists still clenched at his sides. Revealing what he didn't know would hurt him more than letting him believe that I was simply his abusive Chief's abusive son, so I let him walk away without a fight.
“You’ll push him away,” Aethelwig stated. “But you won't push me away. I don't know what that man said to you, the one who came to The Pit on the night of your eighteenth, but whatever burden he and the Chief insisted you should bear, you don't have to bear it alone.”
I looked down, at hands which would one day commit atrocities. “I wish that were the case.”
“It is the case,” she insisted. “Tell me what's wrong and maybe I can help.”
I shook my head and saw the disappointment in her expression. “This is my burden to bear, but I appreciate your concern.”
Aethelwig sighed, folding her arms over her chest. I knew she wouldn't let the matter go, even if she was silent on it for a while. I admired her for her tenacity and her loyalty. She was possibly the wolf I admired most in the pack.
“If I'd ever become Chief, I would've chosen you to be my second in command.”
That caught her off guard, at least, and her eyes widened in surprise, at least until a frown settled on her brow.
“I'm flattered, but what do you mean ‘if you'd ever become Chief'. There is still plenty time for that.”
My laugh held no joy, and I sighed as I looked skyward, to avoid meeting her eye. “I don't think my fate has been woven that way.”
“I wish you would talk to me,” she said, not for the first time in recent months.
“I know, but you'll just have to trust that I am making the best of a bad situation, and protecting you all by doing so.”
She didn't look convinced, but I didn't hear her next argument as a cold feeling washed over me, followed by a tugging in my gut. Not a pain, exactly, but a dull ache as though something had been anchored there. I knew what that feeling meant. I'd found out a matter of days after Loki revealed my true heritage to me, and the experience was enough for me to jump away from Aethelwig and beat a hasty retreat from the camp. She called after me, but I ignored her. Nothing would make me wait around long enough for him to get near her.
I fled along the course of the Devil's Water, seeking a place away from the others, a place my master could show his displeasure in privacy. I hoped to get to a sheltered clearing before the flash of brilliant colours disrupted my vision, but I was not so lucky. Tiw materialised on the path before me, and faster than I could see, his fist came up and collided with my jaw, sending me careering backward, tumbling over raised roots to land hard on compacted earth and jagged rocks.
“So, son of Loki, care to update me on your search for Woden.”
I bit back a pained groan and resisted the urge to rub my jaw. Every werewolf instinct I had screamed at me to stand, to bear my teeth and fight for dominance, but I knew better. Tiw had given me many lessons on submission in our early months of contact. Painful lessons littered with broken bones which I tried to hide from the pack, often unsuccessfully.
In a way, I was grateful for the years of abuse the Chief had doled out on me, at least unexplained bruises could be blamed on his fists. No one had to find out about the vengeful god whose quest to ensure the security of his throne had come to dominate my life. No one had to know that I knelt before a tyrant because I was too weak to stand.
“I tracked down a vampire in Lancashire, old, there were rumours of Saxon heritage but it turned out he arrived with the Normans, several centuries too late to be Woden. There's still the Sire of the Newcastle Cohort to investigate, but he is a very private man, even for a vampire. No one gets close to him, even the women who share his bed. His name is Irish, rather than Old English, but he could have changed it. He needs further investigation.”
“So you are no closer to your goal than when last we spoke,” Tiw drawled, sounding bored even though I could see the anger in his ice blue eyes and the way his magic sparked around him, threatening to set the undergrowth alight.
“I've ruled out further possibilities...” I insisted, even though I knew the only progress Tiw would acknowledge would be Woden's head on a platter.
“And it has taken you months to achieve so little? Are you afraid, great-wolf, that you will be bested, that you will die? It that why you procrastinate, out of cowardice?”
“I am no coward,” I spat back, and immediately regretted voicing any defiance.
Tiw wouldn't let such rebellion go, not without punishment, and Loki had cursed me with a inability to strike back at my master when he struck me. I would pay for rash words, I knew it, even before streamers of sorcery coiled about my limbs, holding me in place as I knelt among the mud, and rotting foliage, and other dirt.
The king of Asgard, my king and commander, took hold of my hair, yanking my head back with such force that I felt clumps tearing free of my scalp. His fist ploughed into my face again, over and over, until one eye had swollen shut and all I could taste was the coppery flavour of my own blood. He shoved me onto the ground, and I could do nothing but lie in agony as his booted foot struck my gut, then stamped down on my arm with force enough to break bone. I heard the snap, like dried wood, and felt the crunch as shards of radius ground against fragments of ulna.
Hollering in pain was the most I could manage, momentarily forgetting that other members of the Northern Pack might hear and come searching for me. Right then, there was only blinding agony. I saw neither woodland nor stream, nor even my oppressor's sneer, and when Tiw's foot caught my chin, jarring my neck and forcing my head back, I saw stars.
“Hey! Leave him alone!”
Aethelwig's order brought clarity back in a rush of terror, even before I saw her pull a knife from a sheath at her hip.
“Aethelwig, stand down, that's an order. If you attack him, you will die, and he will make our pack pay for your decision.”
“Beorn,” she breathed, frowning in incomprehension. “Why?”
“Sheath the blade, let him conclude his... business... and I'll explain as much as I can. Please, don't ensure the others pay when it could be me, and only me.”
Her grip on her dagger tightened, and for one dreadful moment I thought she would ignore me and launch herself at Tiw. However, either the malice in his gaze or the static of his magic in the air must have warned her that this was a battle she could not win. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging, and she sheathed her weapon. She turned to me, confused but willing to accept my word.
“You do this for the pack?”
“Yes,” I answered honestly. “Even if I had a choice, I would do this to protect them.”
Tears shone in her eyes, but she folded her arms over her chest. “Alright, then, but I'm not leaving.”
Tiw tipped his head, eyeing my cousin with scorn. “Kneel before your betters, girl, or you will join your Beorn in the dirt.”
Further defiance lit in Aethelwig’s expression, but when I whispered, “Please, Aethelwig, just do as he says”, she didn't argue. Instead, she knelt, her head bowed. She stayed that way as Tiw returned to his previous task, grabbing my hair again and slamming my head into a rock with such force that the world went black for several moments. She stayed in her submissive position as he took his frustration out on my body, splitting skin and spilling blood. Aethelwig winced with each blow my master landed on me, but she didn't try to intervene again, and I was grateful for that, at least.
When he finally wore himself out, Tiw leaned in close to me, hissing that I ‘had better pray I find Woden soon, or he would make me watch as he had Aethelwig flayed alive.’ Then, as abruptly as he'd arrived, he winked out of existence, finally releasing my limbs, although I was too battered to move.
My cousin, scrambled over to me, reaching for me and earning a hiss of pain for her efforts. Her complexion had turned ashen, and she mouthed wordlessly for several minutes before managing to ask the questions I hadn't wanted to ever answer.
“Who was that? What does he want? What does he mean, ‘find Woden'?”
“I will explain everything, but right now, I need you to help me to the truck. I can't bear to be seen like this. Please, get me out of here, and I'll answer every question you have.”
She considered me for a moment, a deep crease between her brows. “Alright, but at least tell me one thing, why you? Why are you the focus of so much anger?”
I closed my eyes, my pounding head resting against a rock, which may as well have been a pillow in comparison to the discomfort caused by my injuries.
“I am Fenrir, so I am reviled, and so I am bound, until the day I kill or am killed. That's why I doubt I'll ever become Chief.”
“Fenrir? As in...” she repeated in disbelief.
“As in,” I confirmed, resigned. “As in the Chief is not really my father. I am the son of Loki, who took the Chief's appearance to trick my mother into mating with him. Now, I'm going to try and stand, but you might need to help. I'll try not to put too much weight on you.”
“I can take it,” she replied, “lean on me. It's ok...”
For a brief second the vision faded, and I felt the heat of tears on my cheeks. When my gaze met Fenn's, I saw an apology written there, and I wished with all my heart that I could take away his guilt and shame and persuade him that he had nothing to apologise for. I barely managed to open my mouth before Conn regained control and I was once again plunged into Abrođen's memories.
I watched them enter from my seat by the ring, the Consort and the other vampire, the red-head who had come to me before, with another who had been seeking a trade. I wondered what she wanted this time. If the Cohort had business with me, why was it their new Consort paying me a visit, especially with so little back up, rather than their Sire or Second and a contingent of sentries? Was it possible the rumours were true? Had O'Dowd truly done a disappearing act?
I hoped not. Tiw's fury would rain down on me if I'd lost my target when I'd only just found firm evidence that he really was Woden in disguise. Then again, maybe that revelation had been what sent him into hiding. Finding out I was Loki's son had certainly thrown me, if O'Dowd had only just discovered he was a god, would it really surprise me if he’d needed a time out? But would he really have abandoned his new Consort to negotiating on behalf of his cohort?
Unless he didn't know she was here... Maybe his disappearance hadn't been voluntary after all. Maybe that was why the Consort looked so drawn...
Darcy Salix was pretty enough, although lines of worry creased her brow, and unease showed in her dark chocolate eyes. The other vampire looked worried too, but her fear and revulsion was clearly directed at the pack and our sanctuary, and that wasn’t the case for the Consort. When she took in the goings on of The Pit, it was with the mild scorn of someone who'd seen worse, and that piqued my curiosity. Who was this newly turned baby vamp, who had captured a Sire and who could look at our arena as if it were nothing out of the ordinary?
While I schooled my expression, feigning disinterest, I couldn't help but be fascinated as she approached, evading the subject of her Sire's disappearance and brazenly make her demands without so much as offering a trinket in return.
“I want a dose of Wolf Blood, ideally two.”
I felt my brows jump at her request. I was rarely caught off guard these days - I'd learned too much from Loki and Tiw – yet she surprised me. O'Dowd's newest recruit caught me off guard.
“What could you possibly want with that?” I asked, intrigued. It wasn't often we had a request for our blood, to receive two in as many months was unheard of.
“My business is my own,” she stated, defiance flaring in her enchantingly dark eyes as she folded her arms over her chest.
Her rebellious nature amused me, even as it incited a little flare of my own. No vampire walked into my establishment and assumed they had a right to my blood or the blood of my pack, no matter whose bed they had managed to climb into. That being said, maybe whose bed she had climbed into was the only thing that mattered. Maybe she could be the key to finally freeing myself of Tiw. If I could use O'Dowd's affection for her to destroy him, if he truly was Woden...
The thought wasn't easily dismissed, and no matter how deeply I loathed the notion of senseless murder, finally being done with it, with the usurper who yanked my chain, might insure the safety of my pack. It might finally allow me to escape Tiw's ever more oppressive grip.
“Tut tut, vampire. You can't expect I'll hand over something so valuable, so dangerous, to just anyone? Have you any idea of the damage it could do?”
The Consort was not dissuaded as she arched a brow, her tone scornful as she drawled, “Yet you gave it to Viola... I know what damage it could do, but what do you care? If a vampire goes on a killing spree, we will suffer for it more than you. The humans will turn against us, and remain blissfully ignorant of your existence. You'd enjoy it.
“If you want me to promise that I don't intend to cause a slaughter, then I will, because that's the last thing I want. However, if I did bring about a massacre, you would do nothing but sit by and laugh as my kind suffered the consequences. It wouldn't matter to you. Don't play with me, wolf. Bargain, or don't, but don't prevaricate over giving me an answer.”
She had fire, I'd give her that, and a laugh rumbled unintentionally out of me.
“Oh, I like you. You have fire. It's a refreshing change. The last one to come begging for blood was a simpering fool. She was lucky she had something I wanted. You though, you're an intriguing little thing. I can see why O'Dowd took the opportunity to enjoy you. Regardless of that, intriguing or not, if you want the blood, you need something to bargain with. What are you offering me in return?”
That question took some of the wind from her sails, and I was almost disappointed to see it. That she was so unprepared would undoubtedly work in my favour, I could use that to manoeuvre her into the position I wanted, a position I could use to goad her Sire into the inevitable battle which would see one of us in Valhalla, suffering at Tiw's hands for all eternity.
“What do you want?” she asked, and despite my disappointment in her lack of planning and naivety, I almost felt sorry for her.
Scheme as I might, there was an innocence and fragility about Darcy Salix that was so at odds with her jaded, fiery edges that I almost reconsidered playing the villain with her, but my pack came before any vampire. I was not just any wolf, and she had not chosen to bed just any vampire, and that meant there was no room to second guess my resolve. So I laughed at her instead.
“You came here with no way of paying?”
“I have money,” she stuttered, defensive.
“I have money too,” I lied. In truth, the pack was always in need of resources, but they needed to survive a god's wrath first and foremost, and that was why I'd play a role and bury my regrets. “I have everything I currently want. However, you've brightened a dull evening and that deserves some reward. It occurs to me that having the Consort of the Newcastle Cohort owe me a favour may be beneficial. Are you willing to make that bargain? If I give you the blood then you owe me, girl. When I'm ready, I'll come to you with a price, and I will expect payment.”
“Darcy, no,” the other woman hissed. “They have no morals. He could ask you to do anything. To kill, even. Its too open.”
The Consort agreed, as I knew she would, yet she weighed up my offer before responding.
“It's too unspecific, wolf. I know what I'm getting from you. We both understand the risks of it. What you're asking is more than the value of what you have to offer. I need some assurances. I won't kill for you. I won't capture or harm another for you.”
More's the pity. I would've given more than two vials of my blood to hire another assassin to take my place. I didn't need her to kill for me to achieve my goal, though. In fact, I suspected there were other ways to use her to goad O'Dowd to leave his stronghold and make an error of judgment.
“No, of course not. I wouldn't trust you to do so. I agree to those conditions, however, I need a pledge.” My gaze slid to her hand and the ring on her finger. “Your engagement ring. I want that as a pledge. When you pay off your debt, I'll return it to you, but until then I get to keep it.”
That was sure to piss off O'Dowd. Not enough, not by a long shot, but it would get the ball rolling.
Darcy paused, clearly torn, but she slid the ring from her finger anyway.
“Agreed, but if you take too long to determine a price then I will come for it, with or without giving you what you're owed.”
I took the ring, chuckling as I looked up at her from my seat. “Oh, I won't wait long, beautiful Consort.”
Taking her hand, I pressed my lips to her knuckles, meaning only to unsettle her, but at the last moment, I flipped her hand over, licking the pulse point of her wrist. I had enough experience with vampires to know which erogenous zones were most likely to get a reaction - Doron and I had been through plenty – yet it surprised me that the Consort inhaled sharply at the contact, in the second before her palm made contact with my cheek.
“Get off me!” she growled, indignant.
I barely heard her over the roar of my own pulse, as my own indignation flared. I surged upright, grabbing her and pushing her back until she was pinned between me and one of my guards.
“You forget where you are. I am lord here. Would you attack your Sire in such a manner?”
“More than once, if you must know,” she retorted.
Her answer caught me so off guard, and was stated in such a matter of fact way, that I couldn't help but laugh. My anger vanished as quickly as it had flared, and I could only admit to myself that I really could like the vampire currently glaring up at me as if she wasn't a foot and a half shorter and a good deal slighter than me.
“Little rebel, aren't you?”
I backed away, still chuckling, before siphoning off two vials of my own blood and handing them to her.
“It'll be interesting to see what you do with these. Now you should get your friend out of here before I decide she looks tasty enough to eat.”
They beat a hasty retreat, and as she disappeared from sight, conflicting emotions began to wage war in my heart. Darcy Salix could be the answer to my prayers, and yet at the same time, she could prove to be a curse. I didn't want to like her when I would undoubtedly be required to use and hurt her. All I could do was push my conflict down and do as Tiw expected me to do.
Standing again, I slipped out of the theatre and to the office which my father used less and less, and I used more and more. Throwing myself into an old office chair, I picked up the recent newspaper clipping which I'd previously tossed onto a dust covered desk. On the page, Conn O'Dowd and Darcy Salix stood surrounded by ravens, the two largest of which were perched on his shoulders as if they belonged there, whispering in their master's ear.
“I'm coming for you,” I murmured, resentfully, “because it's the only way I'll be free.”
That memory merged into the next, so seamlessly that it took me a moment to realise Fenn had guided us into another. Another day, same location, same shit, only now Fenn wasn’t alone in his office.
“You've failed me, yet again,” Tiw hissed as his fist landed on my ribcage hard enough for it to crack.
I barely groaned in response, trying to hold back shouts which would alert my pack to my plight. I'd only just wrestled power from my ‘father's' grip, and I couldn't afford for the others to see me so beaten. So I stayed silent. When Tiw laid into me, I fought down each yell of pain, even though it goaded him, because my people did not need to bear witness to my enslavement. It was bad enough that Aethelwig had seen. That she knew.
“I am working on it. I did as you suggested. I took his Consort. I am wounding his pride and that will be his undoing. I just need more time.”
Another blow landed, and another, and another, and I wondered if he'd forget himself and kill me after all. How long had it been since he first arrived and pinned me to the office floor. An hour? Two? More than that, even?
“You have had time,” he replied, his tone cold. “I grow impatient. I think it is time you remembered what's at stake if you continue to disappoint me, Fenrir. It is not your life alone I could take.”
His threat sent a chill through me, and I struggled against the magical bonds which held me down.
“If you harm any of then, I swear to you that I'll refuse to obey. Your only choice will be to find another to do your bidding, if another is even capable of fulfilling Fríge's prophecy. She named me, didn't she? I am the one who must kill Woden. But I have a choice. I can refuse. I could let him kill me. Or you could kill me. Your plan would fail either way.”
Tiw all but snarled in response, his icy eyes flashing with fury.
“Then you would watch your entire pack pay for your insubordination, dog. How many would die fighting their fate? How many would come to me in Valhalla? You would condemn them to an eternity in my hall, and through them, I would teach you why you should not have rebelled. Is that what you want? To watch your cousins and friends be torn apart by my warriors, night after night, until the end of time?”
I closed my eyes, resigned, even as I wanted to fight. “Please, I'm trying to do as you demand. My pack have done nothing to you, nothing at all. Please don't harm any of them. I will kill Woden for you. I'm getting close. It's prophesised. It will happen...”
His foot slammed into my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs so that I could no longer form words.
“You make promises, Fenrir, but you consistently fail to get results. Lie there and think on that a moment, while I ensure you understand that your inaction has consequences.”
When he strode out of the office, I thrashed against his sorcery again, dread lancing my chest. For the first time I called out, praying I could get someone's attention before Tiw did something unspeakable, but whether the office was too far from the theatre, or whether the ancient soundproofing on the walls still had some value, no one came running. When the first tendrils of smoke drifted in through the doorway, the acrid odour of burning building carried with it, I hollered for all I was worth, right until Tiw's hold on me lessened, and I guessed he had departed until his next unwelcome visit.
Lurching upright, I staggered from the office and into the corridor beyond, horrified to see smoke already obscuring the doors at the end. That escape route would be cut off before I managed to warn the others. My only hope was to get them out into the foyer, where we could find another exit.
I forgot about the bruises marring my body as I staggered into the main room, barely noticing as my people paused, gaping at me. It didn't matter what the thought now, not if they became trapped by flame and smoke.
“I need everyone to remain calm and head to the main entrance. There's a fire in the corridor, but if we go now we should all be fine.”
For a moment there was silence, then noses twitched, catching the scent which confirmed my announcement. Men grabbed their mates by the hand, towing them towards the door while mothers herded cubs before them, but as the wolves closest to the door pushed it open, further flames licked up the door frame, blocking our other exit. People screamed and children started to cry as a hollow feeling crept through me.
Of course Tiw would leave no escape...
“This way,” I urged, heading back into the office corridor and hoping it would at least prove passable. I had no such luck, and when my hand touched the push plate of the next set of doors, my skin blistered, burning, telling me not to dare push onwards.
“What do we do?” Cáfgár asked behind me. “Chief, there are families here.”
For a moment I drew a blank, my throat constricting as it dawned on me that I had just failed the people I was trying to protect. Then my survival instinct kicked in and I gestured to the side corridor which led to the basement stairs.
“Get everyone downstairs, into the basement. Heat and smoke rises, and there are fire doors between here and there, we should be safe down there for a while. Better we live to be dug out than burn or suffocate up here. The landline of the office still works. I’ll call the fire brigade then I'll help you get the children downstairs.”
Decision made, I went back to the office for what would be the last time, just long enough to call the human emergency services. I didn't tell them what we were, right then coming out wouldn't help us, but the mortals and their appliances were our only hope for a rescue. We certainly didn't have the resources.
“Yes, the old cinema building in Gateshead,” I told the operator when she asked for our location. “There are pregnant women and children in here.”
“A crew are on route now. Try to remain calm. Get everyone together as far from the fire as possible and seal of and openings around the door with anything you have to hand, coats, blankets, anything to keep the smoke out. Stay low to the ground and keep any children down as well. Ok? Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I confirmed, then slammed the phone back into the cradle, dashing out of the room again and into the thick, black, choking cloud which was already hindering visibility. The fire was spreading fast, unnaturally so, and I hated Tiw for his magical ability to reek havoc more than I'd ever hated anyone in my life.
Re-joining the others, I scooped up two toddlers who'd lost their mother in the chaos, carrying them to the basement myself before returning to help usher more of my pack to the temporary sanctuary. I had no idea if the firefighters would bring the fire under control in time to save us, or if the fire would spread even to the basement level before a rescue operation could find us. All that mattered was that I tried.
That was why I kept going back, even when I could no longer see, and I could only find my way from basement to theatre by keeping a hand on the wall. I went anyway, coughing and shouting into the smoke, gathering as many people as I could and guiding them back, before repeating the process all over again.
Each time I rose to ground level, it grew hotter, more dangerous, until I walked through hell every time I attempted to search out more of my people. Flames licked closer and closer to my escape route, threatening to cut me off, and sweat beaded on my skin, cutting paths through the soot which collected there. Breathing became more difficult with each smoke-filled inhale, until I had no choice but to change form. As a wolf, it was far easier to stay close to the ground, and to see under the blanket of noxious fumes and sooty clouds.
I listened intently for any cries for help, even as the ceiling over head began to groan, protesting as the heat began to buckle steel. I howled a desperate call to anyone still in the main theatre to find me, to follow me, knowing that not everyone had yet made it downstairs. Then it happened; with a crash of falling steel and concrete, the roof of the main theatre collapsed, raining a shower of sparks and building down on top a family who been hiding by our makeshift bar.
The shrieks and whimpers of the cubs would haunt me, as would this desperate scratching of their mother and father as they tried to dig their way out from their burning grave. Dashing towards the pile of rubble, I dug too. Buckled metal burned the pads of my paws, while flames singed away patches of my fur. All the while, the building continued to groan, sending further showers of rubble down into a place which had once been filled with family fun or fornicating, depending on the night of the week.
A snarl escaped me as another wolf appeared beside me, butting their head against me in an attempt to move me toward the door and my path to the basement. I twisted round them, going back to my desperate digging as the answering sounds of life from the trapped family grew fainter, weaker, and then stopped all together.
Aethelwig morphed into her human form, her arms going around my neck as she tried to drag me backward, yelling urgently, “There's nothing more you can do here. We need to close the doors between here and the basement, and let the fire doors do their work. Please, Beorn, if you stay here you'll die too. More of the ceiling could come down at any moment.”
I whined, not wanting to leave behind a single member of my pack, not when it was my fault we'd found ourselves in this situation.
Aethelwig tugged against me again. “If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the pack. What will Tiw do to them if you don't survive?”
She had a point. I knew she did. We had several camps and there were plenty more of my people for Tiw or Loki to punish for my failings. Still, it was only with reluctance that I allowed Aethelwig to urge me back out of the theatre and into the corridor. We escaped just as another beam crashed from above, sending up a choking cloud of ash and glowing embers.
Together, Aethelwig and I made our way back down to the basement, closing fire doors behind us and hoping that they retained functioning intumescent strips to create a seal around each opening. We were the last to enter the sealed room, and as I looked around the grime and tear stained faces of my people, I wondered if I'd led us to our tomb.
What if the fire spread?
What if we were buried alive?
What if no one ever dug us out?
Such thoughts whirred round and round in my head, torturing me, right until she arrived, the vampire who would be our salvation. Despite everything I'd done and everything I would do, she came, she burned for us, risked her life for us, and in my throat formed a lump, a suffocating knot which told me I would regret every hurt I made her suffer for the rest of my life. She and her pink haired friend gave us a path through hell, a path to freedom and the cool crisp night outside the old cinema’s walls. And when Darcy fell behind, overcome by exhaustion and burns, I went back for her. I went back, because I would rather die than abandon her.
Where did that leave me?
A/N: Sorry it took so long. I've had a really bad chest infection for six weeks, my oxygen sats dopped to 89, and its taken two lots of antibiotics to get me even back to where I am now, which still isn't 100%. I am grateful for your pacience and appreciate every reader who has stuck with me over the last few very difficult years. A xxx
