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Council of Elders Ch. 01

By: bienclar



I tried to inject a little bit of humour into this chapter, as the last one was a bit heavy. It's hard to write 'funny' without going overboard. The perspective jumps quite a bit, for which I apologise, but it's necessary for the story to develop. I'm not entirely sure where the story is going because I like to write as I think rather than plan, so it might seem a bit disjointed.

***

Time flashed past and before any of them new it; the baby boy had grown into a man. On the dawn of his eighteenth birthday, he was awoken by clattering noises from downstairs. He rose sleepily from bed and shrugged on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt that stretched over his wide shoulders. His bedroom was still dark, the curtains blocking out the majority of the early morning sun. The gloom didn't impede his movements as he walked to the curtains and pulled them wide, letting the blinding rays fall into the cramped space. 

The light came to rest on a typical teenager's room. It was messy with clothes strewn over the floor. A small pile of dusty schoolbooks was laid against a wall and next to those a vast array of CDs and DVDs stood on racks piled to the ceiling. The carpet was a clean navy blue and it was warm under his bare feet. Posters of his favourite musicians and films were dotted around the yellow walls in a seemingly random pattern. 

He padded softly into the corridor outside of his room and scratched at the stubble on his cheeks. He slowly made his way downstairs, hearing the hushed voices get close and closer. As he neared the kitchen, he stepped on a squeaky board and suddenly the voices were silent. He continued to trot towards the closed kitchen door and as he turned the handle, he readied himself to pounce on any intruders.

"SURPRISE!" cheered the small crowd gathered around a large chocolate cake with eighteen lit candles sticking out of it. "Happy Birthday Owen!" His mother swooped down on him and began showering him with kisses that bruised his cheeks. Through the haze of maternal embarrassment, he could see his father shaking his head and laughing. They said it was his birthday when in fact it was just the anniversary of being brought home by his Dad, but no one else knew that.

"Come on Elaine, you're strangling the poor boy. Let him come up for air." He said as he attempted to pry the mother away. His salt and pepper hair was thinning and he had wrinkles around his eyes, but the lines on his face were formed from laughter rather than tears. "I think he knows you love him."

Elaine had tears in her eyes as she pulled away. Her little boy was all grown up and he was going to leave for university the next day. This was one of her last opportunities to tell him she how loved him before he was hundreds of miles away studying in the seaside city of Plymouth. As wonderful as it was to see him moving into the world of adulthood, it was still painful for his mother to let him go. Her inability to have children had made his arrival all the more special and Elaine's catholic upbringing told her that he was a gift from God.

In truth, he was just the opposite.

***

In a dark chamber deep beneath Vatican City, an ancient werewolf was meditating. He was desperately trying to foresee the next great evil before the other two had visions of their own. It was a secret competition they had and Caesar was beginning to trail behind. The golem was so old and powerful that he had snatches of possible futures lining up to wish him good morning, and the vampire was so deeply immersed in shady dealings of his own that he was more attuned to the darkness than either of his colleagues.

Just as Caesar was about to call it and go to sleep, he felt it. A tingling that started at his temples and then intensified until it was burning his retinas. He blinked slowly and the clouded-grey eyes were replaced by orbs of shining white. The voice of the Creator flowed into his mind and shaped his thoughts into images that flickered like old film.

An old man stood in a doorway with tears in his eyes. A lonesome road curled between the hedgerows of a country lane. A girl screamed in violent fury. A knight in black-plated armour rode a steed of boiling shadows. A fire grew and grew till the smoke blotted out the sun. A giant wave rose from the sea and engulfed a city. The earth was cracked by a light from the sky.

The light faded from Caesar's eyes and despite his horror at the flashes he had witnessed he felt a moment of triumph. There came a thumping at the door, but he was sure that nothing could ruin his mood.

"Enter." He called out to the noisy intruder.

"Lord Caesar" an acolyte burst into the room and began to breathe deeply as though he had run a marathon. "Lord Oberoth has just received a vision of the future! He says he has information regarding the new threat!"

Typical.

***

Owen's birthday was going off without a hitch. The guests laughed and sang at all the correct moments, the gifts were thoughtful and the cake was delicious. But there was something nagging at the back of his mind. He had a feeling that someone else should be present at his eighteenth birthday. He had often wondered who his real parents were. Had they died in the explosion he had miraculously survived? Had they abandoned him? Were they, even now, searching for him? His adoptive father held no answers for him as his efforts to locate them had been fruitless.

He could not remember their faces but that was unsurprising, as he had only just been born when the Police Chief found him. Sometimes he dreamt of voices and faces that seemed muffled by shadows, but these dreams were just as unhelpful.

At 6pm, the guests began to leave. The house felt strangely empty without his friends making loud noises, he could finally hear his own thoughts but he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. His father clapped him on the back, looked him in the eye, and in that brief glance he seemed to see the confusion his son felt.

"It's okay to miss them Owen. Even if you never knew them, you won't ever forget them." He said in an understanding tone of voice.

The problem was that Owen didn't want to be understood. He wanted his Dad to shout, to tell him that he should forget about his biological parents and move on. That he had a loving family and that was all that mattered even if they weren't technically related. But the Police Chief was too kind to say such things; he knew that Owen would have to come to terms with his real parents on his own.

"I know it's stupid Dad, but I miss them at times like this. I don't even know what they looked like but I miss them." Owen had his head in his hands.

"It's not stupid Owen. Just don't forget to stay in the present instead of worrying about the past." His Dad smiled a toothy grin and mussed his black hair out of shape. No son was too old to be irritated by his Dad. "Right, your mother and I are going out for dinner. You should pack before we get back so that she doesn't have a chance to persuade you not to go to uni."

"Okay Dad. See you later and don't be back too late. Wear your seatbelt and check both ways before crossing the road." He hugged him and tramped upstairs to find his clothes.

***

"You can't be serious!" cried Malus, the Vampire Elder, in outrage.

"He's got to be dead! Nothing could survive the Summoner's final attack, otherwise we would have gone to deal with her ourselves." Agreed Caesar.

"Unless it was that final act that allowed the Pit to tear itself a hole in the fabric of reality. The energy requirements would be so large I can only think of one possible power source." Oberoth was certain of his conclusion.

"Raw magic." Caesar slumped back into his throne and bowed his head.

"But that doesn't explain why we never received the visions again. What changed?" Asked Malus in confusion.

"We sent the two assassins after her. She was weakened enough that the child did not have the entirety of its powers. It would have to wait until it had matured sufficiently, that is if it even knows its purpose. The Summoner would have tried to channel her power more efficiently had she not been interrupted so the devastation may not have occurred but for our interference. Perhaps she had an accomplice ready to train the child in her absence?" This explanation was alarmingly rational and Oberoth's fellow Elders were stunned into silence by the realisation that their actions had done nothing but delay the inevitable.

"We MUST find the child!" shouted Malus in horror.

"But he won't be a child anymore. It's been eighteen years since that day. We have only received this vision because he has finally matured enough to wield his full power." Countered Caesar.

"We will have to send a Hunter after him." Said Oberoth.

"We can't do that! They're too unstable; they can't be trusted with something like this. They are my kind and even I can't control them." Caesar, for all his magic and wisdom, was wary of the Hunters. They were werewolves of unimaginable skill and were nearly impossible to defeat one-on-one. Their mountain home was deep within a silver ore mine and they had grown total resistance to its ionising effect on werewolf cells.

"How will we contact them? They are too secretive to come out of hiding, even in the face of the Apocalypse." Malus asked, though he thought he had an inkling as to Oberoth's plan.

Sure enough, the golem held a silver dagger behind his back. He struck with the impossible strength of tectonic plates and Caesar was thrown onto the floor. The silver in the blade reacted to his werewolf DNA and began to release toxic radiation that killed his cells one by one. He died slowly and in agony and he stared into Oberoth's eyes with sadness and confusion.

"I am sorry my old friend. But this is the only way to reach the Hunters and save the world. I will miss the times we spent together, but I know your death won't be in vain." The golem held his dying friend even as the werewolf's body began to burn with the white heat of magic.

Oberoth released him and braced himself against the wall of the chamber. Malus was not quick enough and as the magic in Caesar's body escaped, he was thrown against the wall with enough force to crack every bone in a human body. The worst was yet to come however; at the moment of the Elder's death, his power of foresight was also released. A mental shockwave rushed out of his lifeless corpse and crashed over the whole world at the speed of thought. For one agonizing moment, every mentally attuned creature the world over had the psychic equivalent of a blue screen of death. Their minds shut down to protect them from the forces attacking them.

The message was received by every werewolf the world over, even the Hunters. Caesar was dead; they must go to pay their respects to their former leader.

Unknown to the other two members of the Triumvirate of Blood, Caesar had seen his death already and had long ago enacted a curse that would be the downfall of his murderers. At the moment of his demise, his consciousness screamed through the sky and lodged itself inside the mind of one of the Hunters. Unfortunately, his aim had been a little off. So instead of inhabiting the mind of the Alpha he was suddenly sharing the same head as one of the Alpha's offspring. He was disconcerted by the sensation of having another's thoughts swirl around him and he almost lost his mental grip.

***

Fenris McAgnus was the runt of the litter. He knew it, his father knew it, his brothers knew it, and everyone in the underground network of Krakarov Mountain knew it. His position as Angus McAgnus' son made him immune from most of the bullying he would have received otherwise, but it didn't make the pain of being such a disappointment any less intense.

He knew his father despaired of him and he knew that he was butt of many a joke by the members of the pack. He didn't know why he didn't just leave. "Oh, now I remember!" he thought. It was because they were in the middle of the Siberian Tundra, miles underneath the ground and living in a dormant volcano. There was literally nowhere to go.

Why couldn't he be more like his brothers? They were tall and strong and they were born leaders. He was barely 6'5" and only 240lbs, which was nothing compared to them. He was also severely let down by his werewolf form. His nine-foot fully transformed werewolf body was as a child compared to the majestic altitude enjoyed by his father and siblings. 

When he had been young his mother had always told him that he would grow up to be bigger than all of his brothers, but as the years progressed he realised that there was no way he would ever even hit seven feet as a human, and he could forget about being a giant werewolf like the rest of them. He would just have to settle for being called "short-stuff" "half-pint" "hobbit" and "pup" for the rest of his natural. 

Fenris was the runt of the litter in all but one sense. He could out-think the lot of them. He was the cleverest wolf in the mountain and had at least 40 IQ points on everyone. Despite his embarrassing stature, he could cling to that lifeline for the rest of his life. Fenris' brain was a shining beacon to all that felt his psychic presence outside the mountain.

This was probably why, hurtling through mental subspace and unable to see his target's unfortunate relative lack of size, Elder Caesar had thought that he was the pack Alpha. The wonderful mind he had caught a whiff of had to belong to someone important in the pack. So it was that, while everyone else in the entire mountain was clutching their heads in pain, Fenris McAgnus suddenly felt better than he had in years.

"Pa? Pa what's wrong?" he asked fearfully as he watched the great and powerful Angus McAgnus writhing on the floor. Psychic attacks always fell hardest on those with weak minds, and Fenris' family were some of the biggest knuckle-dragging brutes in the known universe. It was the medical equivalent of ten epileptic seizures happening at once, so it was no wonder that they were brought to their knees.

"You can't help them boy," the voice seemed to emanate from within his own mind. "It won't last long, but it'll hurt like fuck till it's over."

Caesar was surprised at himself. Where had that come from? He thought for a moment and realised that the strength of the mind he was cohabitating was such that his own essence was being altered. He was in no danger, he was not fading away or losing his memories, he was just becoming more and more like a grumpy teenager.

"Who's there?" Fenris asked out loud.

"I'm not out there, I'm in here." This baffling statement was accompanied by a sharp stinging near his temples. "In your mind, as it were."

"You're a figment of my imagination?" This time Fenris thought the words rather than said them.

"Yes and no. Yes in that my presence is being changed by your imagination, but no in that I am very much real." Caesar tried to simplify but the science behind the magic was too complex.

"Great. So now that there's no hope of me becoming of any use to anyone, I've gone crazy." Fenris mentally rolled his eyes.

"I saw that! Honestly, kids these days have no respect for their Elders. Huh? I just made a joke. I haven't made a joke in four hundred years." Caesar focused for a moment.

Suddenly there was an old grizzled werewolf standing in front of Fenris. His fur was pale white and he was muttering to himself. He seemed very short, not like any of the werewolves Fenris knew.

"Well I would wouldn't I. Not everyone's a giant you know. I'm considered quite tall where I'm from. Or I was, before my physical body died. Christ! They grow them big where you're from." Caesar had a direct connection to Fenris' thoughts and could hear them as clearly as a voice.

"How are you standing in front of me? You just said your physical body... Oh! You're projecting an image of yourself through my eyes, that'll make communication easier I suppose. But won't I look a bit odd talking to myself?" 

"I thought of that." Caesar grinned smugly. "I've done a teensy bit of rewiring of your perceptions. When you 'speak' to me, you're actually just thinking. Don't worry it won't affect anyone else. You'll just have to be careful not to keep looking at me during conversations."

"What's happened to all of them?" Fenris asked.

"Unfortunately, I happened. A side effect of me vacating my mortal shell is that all of my considerable magic escaped my body; it's causing some... difficulty for the psychically inclined." Caesar gave an apologetic shrug and held up his hands in a show of 'mea culpa'.

"Why didn't it happen to me?" Fenris asked in a more curious voice.

"Not entirely sure. At first I thought that I was somehow shielding you, but they started having fits before I landed in your head. You must be powerful to stop such an attack. Either that or..." He trailed off and started muttering. Fenris began to get irritated; it was unfair that the sharing of thoughts could not be a two-way street.

"It is. You just have to focus on the part of your mind that I inhabit. Think of your mind like a big multi-storey hotel. I'm in one of the rooms. Try to picture the room."

"What does it look like?" 

"Well..." Caesar began. He turned around on the spot where he was standing in front of Fenris. His body seemed to become more translucent than before. He regained opacity and grinned with one eyebrow raised. "Well... I'm not sure I should say."

"You don't mean..." Fenris' eyes widened both externally and internally. He flushed red with embarrassment.

"Yes, that room. You could probably move me to a different room if you like, but I quite like it in here and you might dislodge me from your mind entirely if you try. Besides, at least now I know you've got some imagination."

"Okay, I'm coming in."

It was as if he had stepped into another world. He was standing in front of a red door floating in darkness. He groaned as he saw the room number on the door. XXX. Hopefully that just meant room 30. He opened the door and he was pulled inside by Caesar. He clamped his eyes shut.

"It's not really to my taste. But, whatever floats your boat and all that. Maybe if I spend enough time in here I'll start to like it." Caesar had an expression of sheer enjoyment on his lupine face.

Fenris turned as he opened his eyes and was half expecting to see some sort of leather harness or handcuffs or ball-gag hanging from the ceiling. Instead, he found he was looking at a small table on top of which was a bottle of wine and a half melted candle sticking out of an empty balsamic vinegar bottle.

"Not much of a deep dark fantasy really. Seems a bit tame to me. So your deepest sexual desire is romance?"

Fenris muttered darkly about "interfering old men" and "perverted ancient dogs". Then to his surprise, he found that he wasn't really upset, it was nice to share his secret with someone, especially someone who could never tell anyone else. He waved his arm and one of the empty seats by the table was filled with the silhouette of a man. First, he was tall and broad chested, and then he was petite and slim. The silhouette seemed to shift and change, never taking one form over another. 

"Ah... so that's why you've buried your romantic side in here. I know werewolves aren't the most accepting of critters out there. But it's much better than it used to be. Why, in my day, you'd be castrated and every male in the pack would fuck you till he came in your ass. That was the punishment for the sodomite, provided of course that the Alpha remembered to castrate him. They forgot that bit sometimes you know, quite often in fact. More often than you would..." Caesar stopped for a moment and seemed to consider what he'd just said. "Now I think of it, it just sounds like an excuse for a bunch of randy dogs to fuck someone for free. I expect the 'victim' was in on the whole thing."


Council of Elders Ch. 01



"Um, can we go? I feel a little uncomfortable being stuck inside my own head."

"Yeah sure. You need to make some sort of phrase, something powerful, that will bring you back to a conscious level. Your body goes into a sort of coma when you come in here so you have to be careful."

"Uh... Okay. How about 'There's no place like home'?"

"I guess you are a friend of Dorothy." Caesar laughed raucously. "It should be fine. Just concentrate."

"There's no place like home. There's no place like home." Fenris tapped his heels together as he said it, much to Caesar's delight.

***

Owen packed the last of his luggage into the car he had rented for the drive to Plymouth. It was a good five hours, but the drive would allow him to think clearly about what he was going to do when he got there. 

The decision had been an easy one for him. The city was on the coast, it had the largest aquarium in Europe and it was the centre of Marine Biology research in the country. According to his former Plymothian friends, it was also a sty. A bad one. But he could look past that, the real reason for going somewhere so far away was that he had been planning to do something for a long time. Something he could only do far away from his parents.

Owen had known he was gay for four years. Ever since a mix up at a hotel on a school trip had left him sleeping in the same bed as the school's seventeen-year-old rugby captain for two weeks, he had known that there was no going back. Andrew had been good to him and hadn't laughed at him when he had woken up to find Owen snuggled cosily into his strong chest. In fact, he had been the one to hold Owen as the young boy cried for the loss of his ignorance. Andrew had never touched him sexually, but the brief moments of contact had meant more than words to Owen's fragile heart.

Owen was intending to come out, in a big way, when he got to university. He knew where the gay bars were. He knew when there were LGBT meetings, gay film nights, gay coffee mornings. He was well prepared for joining the "gay scene". Which was, while relatively compact in Plymouth, still thriving well.

He returned to his house to wish it and his family goodbye. He would come back, of course, but it would never be the same. He bent down and stroked the neighbourhood's stray cat under its neck.

"You won't miss me one bit will you?" He asked it while scratching behind his ears. "Not so long as you get fed by some poor Granny who thinks she owns you."

The cat gave him a reproachful look and dug its claws lightly into the skin of his hand. He went back to stroking its back fur and it purred loudly.

"You ought to wash that scratch Owen. You'll get rabies or something." His father called from the front door. He and Elaine were holding each other tightly and both had proud smiles on their faces.

"You don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm out of the house now." Owen laughed.

"We have to worry. It's our job these days. If we ever stopped worrying then what we would we do all day?" Elaine asked with a similar laugh.

"We'll always worry about you son. Because we love you. We love you so much that we thank God every day for sending you to us." The stoic brave face of Owen's father was beginning to crack under the emotional strain.

"Your Dad's right Owen. We love you. We really, really, love you." Elaine's face was beginning to drip make-up and tears as she sobbed.

"Don't cry Mum. It's all alright. I'll be back by Christmas. Calm down Mum." He tried to placate her but it was no use. He swept over and pulled the two people who had raised him into a hug.

"I love you too Mum and Dad. I'll miss you a lot, but I'll still send you emails." This earned him a harsh look from his mother. "Okay, okay. I'll write you a letter every week."

Elaine smiled warmly at him and turned to her husband. He was still holding in his tears, but barely. He stuck out his hand and Owen shook it. Then Owen turned to the car and got in. He waved comically to them and started the ignition. The car drove away and left the old couple standing on the doorstep.

"Do you think he knows we know?" asked Elaine as she turned back into the house

"No." Replied her husband. He remained standing in the doorway for a moment then followed her inside.

He walked up the stairs and opened the door to Owen's room. The posters were all gone, the bookshelves empty but for a few Penguin Classics, the wardrobe was bare and the messy desk was too. Owen's father stood in the doorway of the empty room and wept. 



Council of Elders Ch. 02



I probably should have mentioned in the Prologue that sex would only come after a little bit of character and plot. I won't just have my characters have sex with no apparent reasoning behind it.

Enjoy the show XOXO

***

Fenris McAgnus watched as his father rose from his position on the floor. The clan's Alpha had just suffered the effects of a mental shockwave and his head was still aching from the assault. Angus McAgnus was a giant of a man, he stood eight feet tall and his shoulders were as wide as a doorframe. Years of selective breeding with other clans had made the McAgnus Pack into a group of titans that intimidated their foes even as humans.

"What the bloody hell was that?" despite living in the deepest reaches of the Siberian Tundra, Angus had maintained his deep Scottish accent. "It felt like my bloody head was going to fall off."

"I don't know Pa," replied Alistair, his eldest son and heir to the Alpha's title. His years of seclusion had robbed him of his father's inflection, and like all of Angus' children, he spoke in the same tones as his mother who hailed from the southern states of America. "But Fenris seems to be fine."

"I saw him talking to himself just as you were standing up Pa." Cried Daniel, the middle brother. "Maybe that thing that happened to us made him go crazy."

"Is that true boy?" the way he said the word made it sound like an insult, but Fenris knew that despite his disappointment his father still loved him. "Are you crazy?"

"No." Fenris said blandly. "I am not crazy."

"That's probably what a crazy person would say." Added his older sister Keira with a derisive snort. "He wouldn't know he was crazy."

"For Christ's sake! I'm not crazy." Fenris shouted. The words were laced with power and authority he had never had before, it made the other werewolves back away slightly. 

Caesar's projection grinned broadly. He had detected the untapped magic at Fenris' core and had tainted the boy's voice with power that drove fear into those who heard it.

"Okay lad, I didn't mean to upset you." Angus stepped closer, feeling foolish for being momentarily afraid of his runt son. "Fine, you're not crazy."

Fenris relaxed his stance and smiled apologetically. He didn't want to fight with his family, but sometimes they really got on his nerves. His two brothers were constantly teasing him about his comparatively small stature, but their teasing protected him from other would-be bullies. They were the two dumbest morons in the mountain with barely half a brain cell between them, but they were friendly and fun to be around. His sister was a different matter; she was beautiful and tall both in human form and as a werewolf, but she was also vain and cruel. She was the bride-to-be of Apollo, the Alpha of another pack, and this politically arranged marriage made her extremely bitter. She yearned for freedom and rebelled at every opportunity despite being spoiled rotten by their doting father. 

Ever since their mother's death, Angus had done his best to fill both parental roles at once. He had tried to be at once compassionate and stern and Keira had taken advantage of him many times. The three boys offered few problems other than when girls had entered the equation, but Fenris had never troubled him even once.

Angus hauled himself onto a tall rock in the cave they lived in and blew into the great horn that stood on it. The great blast shot through the network of caves and soon many horns could be heard at once. The echoing noise told every inhabitant of the mountain that there was to be a meeting of the whole pack. The Alpha left his perch and the five of them trudged to the large cavern at the centre of the mountain.

***

Owen honked his horn at the caravan that was taking up both of the motorway lanes in front of him. The driver stuck his middle finger out of the window and refused to go any faster than the snail's pace he had been moving at for the last half-hour. He laid his head against the steering wheel and was given a jolt when he set off the horn again. This time the driver of the caravan threw open the front door and stomped out and over to Owen's car. The man was short, even shorter than Owen's 5'8" and he had the belly of a man whose only exercise was the short walk to the fridge to grab a beer. Owen wound down the window and poked his head out. 

"If you honk me one more fucking time I'll-"

"You'll what? Breathe on me?" Owen had no time for bullies, especially ones with such awful BO. "Come on; just drive a little bit faster. You're about 40 under the legal limit so why not speed things up?"

"I'll drive at whatever fucking speed I like you little shit. I've had my license a hell of a lot longer than you." The driver spat.

"Seriously sir, there's a back log of cars for about half a mile because no one but motorbikes can get around you." Owen was fighting a losing battle to remain calm in the face of such irritation.

"The day I let some snot nosed kid tell me how to drive-" The man stopped talking suddenly and paled.

Unbeknownst to Owen, his normally dark brown irises had begun to glow a deep blood red. The colour spread until it filled each eye with blazing malevolence. The terrified caravan driver turned and practically ran to his vehicle before slamming the door behind him and accelerating rapidly. Owen raised an eyebrow and wound up the window. There were honks and cheers from behind him as other cars began to start their engines. Owen did the same and his journey continued.

***

Malus and Oberoth sat in uncomfortable silence at the triangular table of their dining room. They both stared sightlessly at the vacant seat by their side and mourned the death of their companion. Never again would they hear his terrible jokes or his cackling laughter. However necessary his murder had been, they could never forgive themselves for committing it.

Just as he was about to bite into his suddenly tasteless steak, Malus felt the battle scars on his arms begin to burn. Each member of the Triumvirate experienced their visions in a different way. Caesar had seen the future while Oberoth heard the future and Malus spoke the future. The words poured from his mouth in a stream of golden vapour.

"Eyes of red and skin of night. Darkness spread and Pit's delight. All are dead and clad in white. Heart of lead, till cured by light."

The verse was etched permanently into his memory, as were all his visions. Oberoth looked at him with sorrow as he realised that his friend's death had done nothing to end the terror that faced them.

"What does it mean?" Malus asked with a quaver in his voice.

"It means we have failed. Even by taking the most drastic of actions, we have averted nothing. The Hunter's involvement will not change our fate. The end races toward us as swiftly as it did before." The stone of Oberoth's face was incapable of forming tears, but he still wept softly. "There is nothing for us to do but prepare for what is to come."

With that, he stood and left the room. Malus followed him as he swept down the corridor that branched away from all the others. The dark passage would have been impossible to navigate for those who relied on sight, but for the two Elders it was a route they had memorised by touch alone. Oberoth held one stone hand against the wall, feeling for a change in the texture. He found a patch of smoothness amongst the rough stones. He pressed against it at pushed lightly until the whole section swung away.

The new room was equally black but for a large triangular obelisk rising from the centre. Oberoth stepped toward it and his hand danced in a complicated arc that drew patterns of fire in the air. A dome around the pillar flashed into visibility and just as quickly dissipated.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Malus meekly. "If we do this, there is no turning back. Our decision must be final."

"There is no other way. I am certain of it. We must protect the citadel at all costs." Oberoth held out his hand and Malus took it. They stepped through the place the invisible dome had stood and each felt a frisson of magic course through them.

"It will not be as powerful as with Caesar present." Said Malus as if to convince the golem to change his mind. "It may not be strong enough."

"We know that it won't be strong enough. We just need to have more time." Oberoth moved forward again and let go of Malus.

Malus was tempted to flee, but knew that he had to do this final task before death. He watched as Oberoth walked to one of the three sides, turned his back to the stone and ever so gently fell backwards. His body seemed to melt into the pillar so that he vanished. In the space where he had fallen through there was just a glyph bearing his name and species. The room thrummed with power and light shot skywards from the tip of the pyramid. The light travelled directly up, through the underground sanctuary until it burst out into the open. It formed a sphere that stretched in every direction under the ground. It encased the entire subterranean city in a bubble of golden energy.

Malus prepared himself and stepped forward. He turned his back to a side of the pyramid and fell back into it. He was absorbed by the stone and his magic added to that of Oberoth in the giant shield that protected the seat of arcane power in the world. The barrier was immensely powerful and not even light could pass through. The massive reserves of magic that both Elders possessed would keep the shield strong for hundreds of years, hopefully long enough for the danger to pass and for the citizens to resurface and repopulate the shattered land. It wasn't anywhere near as powerful as it would have been if the full strength of all three Elders had been available, but it was the best they could do. The two Elders had sacrificed themselves and channelled their power into the obelisk to save the people they ruled.

***

"No!" whispered Caesar as he felt the other two Elders deaths even from so far away. "Those idiots! They aren't nearly powerful enough to maintain the barrier against the Pit."

"What idiots? What pit?" Fenris asked, shocked at the anguish in Caesar's voice.

High above them, on a raised platform from which he could see the assembled clan members, Angus McAgnus spoke to the crowd.

"The pain we have all recently experienced is due to the death of Caesar, the Werewolf Elder of the Triumvirate of Blood."

Cries of horror filled the cavern as the pack grieved for the loss of their true leader. Despite their hatred for the outside world, the Hunters had a huge amount of respect for the werewolf who had championed their rights. He had done more for his kind than any other werewolf in history, every pup learned of his exploits from an early age. 

"You're THE Caesar?" asked Fenris in astonishment. He felt so stupid, he should have realised that the old man had to be an Elder; no one else could possibly have enough power or skill to detach his mind from his body and survive.

"Yes, I am. But don't make a big deal about it. Certainly don't go around telling people that I'm floating around in your head, they already think you're insane." The old man had a benign smile twitching at his lips and gave a comical bow. Fenris had to stop himself from giggling at the sight.

"We have also received word that the remaining Elders have sealed themselves inside the ancient barrier. They had gathered representatives of each clan apart from ours before doing so as well as bloodsuckers and other crypto's from around the world. Last we heard, there's a great evil on the rise that threatens to take over the world and destroy it."

At this, the crowd began to beat their chests and howl loudly, some going so far as to start to change in anticipation of the hunt. One werewolf next to Fenris began to salivate at the mere thought of violence.

"That's right brothers and sisters, our job is to hunt this thing down and kill it. Then the barrier will deactivate and the other werewolves will be freed from captivity." 

"Who will be the first to track the monster?" Hundreds of voices clamoured to be the first to taste blood.

Suddenly and without warning Caesar seized control of Fenris' body. It lasted only for a few seconds before Fenris retook control, but those brief moments were enough for a voice to be heard over every other in the room.

"I will!" declared Fenris' traitorous vocal chords. A brief muttering passed through the crowd but when Angus looked proudly into his son's eyes and gave a nod of ascent, they began to roar with excitant.

Fenris was lifted up by the nearest werewolves and as he was hoisted into the air, he could see the impressed looks on each of his brother's faces. His sister's expression remained stoically spiteful but a small twitch in her left cheek showed her true feelings. Fenris began to get excited as the exaggerated scent of testosterone flooded the cavern and everyone howled as one.

***

Owen had stopped at a roadside pub that doubled as a hotel. He parked his car, walked in, and was immediately bombarded with the sounds of merriment that filled the ground floor. He was pulled into the bar by a plump girl in her twenties who seemed to fit the description "tavern wench" rather accurately.

"A'right my lover." She said in a deep Devonshire accent. "What can I get fer you?"

"Ummm..." Owen was rather shocked at this friendly greeting. Londoners were not exactly horrible, but they had a reputation for being antisocial. "I'll just have a coke please."

"Gosh, you sound posh!" she guffawed. "You from that London?"

"Ummm... Yes? Yes. Yes I am." He was unsure if the cackling followed by the smacking of her thigh meant that she was pleased or that she pitied him. "I'm going to university in Plymouth."

"Oh! My cousin goes there. She's doin' Lit-rit-cher." She seemed to automatically assume that I knew this cousin, even though there were hundreds of students on campus.

"So, um, can I have a coke please?" Owen was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in the presence of so much focussed attention.

"A'course you can, my lover!" The girl swept off in the general direction of the bar before disappearing amongst the throng of people.

A tall man next to him fell of his stool right on top of Owen who struggled to pull himself and the inebriate off the floor. The effort seemed too much for him at first, but suddenly he felt strong enough to lift ten times the man's weight and he practically threw him into the air as he achieved a vertical position. The movements were not lost on a beady eyed bearded man in a leather jacket and chinos. He looked at Owen and smiled with dirty rotting teeth.

The man stood up and walked to the exit chuckling darkly. The old man trudged through the mud to Owen's car and pointed a grubby finger at it. A thin stream of dust blew from his finger into the exhaust pipe and clogged it, making it impossible to drive safely. He returned to the bar and struck up a conversation with another regular, never taking his eyes off Owen's face.

For his part, Owen was thoroughly enjoying himself. He had gotten over his fear of the amiable nature of the people that now surrounded him. They asked him all sorts of questions about where he was going, what he was doing and whether he liked Devon so far. His answers grew less and less vague as he became more comfortable. He was being drawn in by their charm and before he knew it Owen was losing a drinking game to a man who seemed like he was baptised in vodka.

Hours blinked past and while the rain had stopped, Owen was still sitting on a stool at the bar. He finally looked at the watch strapped around his wrist and groaned. 8pm! That was far too late to start driving again; he would probably fall asleep at the wheel. He had the distinct impression that he was also quite a bit over the legal limit for alcohol.

"D'ya think I could stay the night?" he slurred at the barmaid who blushed fiercely.

"A'course you can m'boy!" cried Mr Bass, the proprietor, slapping him on the back.

Owen payed for a room and practically crawled up the stairs. He reached the landing and used the key to enter his room. He didn't notice the man in the black beard who had followed him up. He didn't see the man pick up a flower vase. He fell to the floor as the man crashed the vase against his head.

***

Searing pain coursed through his entire body, but he couldn't move. Owen was strapped to a wooden table carved with intricate symbols. The metal cuffs that secured his hands and feet were also covered in tiny symbols that seemed to glow in the sepulchral gloom. There was a fire in the corner of the room and the flames were licking at the walls as though trying to find a way out.

"Hello?" he shouted. "Is anybody there?"

"Don't bother. This room is sealed. No one can hear you." The voice came from behind him, just out of sight. It was raspy and a shiver passed through him as the sound washed over him.

"Who are you? Where am I? And where the FUCK is my t-shirt?" Owen was bare-chested and his firm muscles were straining as he tried to free himself.

"I'm afraid I can't answer all of your questions at the moment. But soon, you'll understand. Very soon."

The man entered his field of vision as he stepped over to the fire. He was carrying something in his right hand. As he placed the end of the object in the fire, the flames turned green and the heat in the room intensified. The bearded man turned back towards Owen and now he could see what he was holding. It was a branding iron, but he couldn't make out the symbol. It was as though the shape changed as he looked at it.

"Please, sir, you don't have to do this!" He screamed desperately.

"This is going to hurt." The man drew closer and as Owen watched in total horror, he brought the brand down on Owen's stomach.

Owen yelled as the torturous agony filled his body. Every fibre of his being seemed to focus on the burning. Then, suddenly, the pain vanished. The mark on his stomach seemed to tingle rather than burn. Skin changed from milky white to stark black. Eyes lost iris, pupil and sclera and became pits of dark red. Teeth sharpened and grew to fill a lipless mouth. Ears changed from round and flat to curved and pointed, like those of a bat. The nose all but disappeared, becoming two slits that fluctuated with each breath. A stag's antlers burst from the sides of the Daemon's head. The body lengthened and thickened, every sinew stretching to cover the monstrous carapace. Feet changed into talons that dug into the floor of the chamber. Tiny gaping mouths opened in the palms of the Daemon's hands, filled with rows of razor sharp teeth. The fingers transformed into claws that ached to tear and rip after so many years of captivity.

The creature broke through the restraints of the table as though moving through thin air. It stood and as it moved forward, the shed skin of its host fell to the floor behind it.

The bearded man stepped back and fell to his knees, a look of joy on his face.

"Master!" he whispered. "Master, is it you?"

"Indeed it is. Where am I? What year is it?" The voice emanated from the thing that was once Owen. It echoed with the inexorable power of death. The Daemon seemed to struggle with the words, its mouth trying to shape the syllables of a language it didn't know. 

"My Lord! We are in Britain; it has been some two thousand years since your last visit to this world." The man was simpering, nearly begging for praise. "There are still those of us who worship you my Lord."

"And yet it took two millennia to resurrect me. I am disappointed. Did I not teach you the lore of magic? Did I not provide instructions?"

"But my lord, the library at Alexandria was flooded and all the knowledge you left to us was lost. We have been forced to use petty magic thus far."




Council of Elders Ch. 02



"Enough excuses!" The Daemon hissed. "I am still not as powerful as I once was, I need to feed."

"My Lord?"

"Not exactly my usual, but beggars can't be choosers I suppose." The Daemon was talking to itself. "Weak as a babe, but it will sustain me until I find someone of more strength."

Without warning, the Daemon launched forward and placed its hands on the bearded Summoner's chest. The tiny mouths in its palms began to chew on the flesh and dragged the life force and magic out of the man's body, which began to age before the Daemon's eyes. Soon the Daemon was holding a pile of bones that were crumbling into dust in his grip.

"Disgusting. Far too much sin to be tasty." The Daemon remarked as the maws in his hands clamped shut and seemed to melt back into the black skin. "But that's what you get when you give them free will I suppose."

Shadows moved from the edged of the room and seemed to collect at the Daemon's feet. They formed leathery wings that flexed at its command and then retracted into its back. It moved to one of the walls and splayed its left hand. Huge pressure pressed against the magical barrier until it snapped. The stone behind it cracked and burst outwards and the Daemon stepped through the hole.

The midnight patrons of the bar turned and stared at the monstrous creature that climbed out of the opening. They all experienced a moment of pure fear as the Daemon stood and bared its fangs at them. None of them had the power that it needed, so it simply walked through the front door, leaving the crowd in stunned silence. 

As it stood outside under the stars, it tried to sense if there was any power nearby. There were patches of magic all over the world, but the two highest concentrations were in Italy and somewhere near Russia. The shadow-wings unfurled from its back and it took flight. It was heading southeast.



Council of Elders Ch. 03



Exposition- LOL

P.S. To any actual physicists reading this, I apologise for any errors. I'm working from a fairly rudimentary understanding of the second law of thermodynamics and I may have unknowingly broken the laws of the universe in my explanation of Pit science.

***

The Daemon halted in midair and slowly descended to the ground below him. He was standing on a motorway filled with cars. He was shocked by the horseless chariots that beeped and honked at him, and then he sifted through his host's memories and learned about more of the technological advances that had occurred during his two thousand year imprisonment in the Pit. He raised his right arm and opened his palm. The tiny mouth imbedded in the skin opened in a yawn and then began to chatter excitedly. The mouth regurgitated a ball of fluff into the Daemon's other hand. He set the ball on the road and made a complicated sign that burned in the air as he traced it.

The ball unfurled and stared up at him with eyes that were two shiny black dots. He petted the tiny creature and then pushed it in the general direction of the honking cars. As it shuffled forward on tiny legs, it hiccupped and then divided in two. A few seconds later, the clone and the original hiccupped again and two more golf ball sized bundles of fluff stood and followed the two already moving. By the time the original had reached the feet of the nearest person who has stepped out of their car, there were hundreds of the things. As the creature neared, the man kicked it hard and it sailed backwards over the rest of its tiny fluffy comrades. It lay dying on the road and as its last breath was coughed out, the rest of the creatures revealed dozens of razor sharp teeth.

Their previous slow movements were forgotten as they raced toward the cars like a swarm of wasps. The man who had kicked the first one was tripped over by the tide of furry destruction and as he screamed, they began to devour him whole. Their tiny teeth ripped at his flesh as he was eaten alive. They ate everything. People, metal, petrol, even each other. They surged on like a plague, killing everything in their path and ripping it to shreds as they did so. Every few seconds the ranks would double in size until there were tens of thousands of the monstrosities, rolling down the road like a wave.

The Daemon whistled and they began to retreat towards him. He knelt on the road and laid his left arm flat, palm up. The mouth on his left hand opened and the creatures began to file into it, disappearing back into the never-ending abyss of the Pit. When the last one was finally nudged back into the hole, he stood up and felt the maw close. He grinned as though satisfied by the needless bloodshed, then launched himself back into the air by magically curving the wind behind his wings.

***

"I hope you realise the shit you've got me into."

"I don't understand. All I did was nudge things along." Caesar refused to admit that he had forced Fenris to volunteer for the mission.

"First you take over my head, now you're taking over my body!"

It was a fair assessment; in fact, if Fenris hadn't had such a powerful mind then Caesar would have dominated it and taken over already. Caesar had stopped his efforts out of respect, but also because it was more trouble than it was worth. He could happily remain in the body until the host died. Unfortunately, death was becoming an alarmingly distinct possibility.

"Now I'm stuck in this plane to Europe, next to a crying baby and a train spotter. A TRAIN SPOTTER for Christ's sake." Fenris had spent the last four hours of the flight being talked to by the obese man sitting next to him, who seemed to equate utter boredom with incredible fun.

The baby had been blissfully asleep for the last three but the Captain had indicated that they would be passing through some turbulence soon, so the beautiful gift of life would soon be shrieking like a banshee.

"Well while I'm here I might as well find out what I'm going to be doing." Fenris had heard multiple references to the Pit, the Daemon and the Triumvirate, but he had no idea what any of it meant.

"I'll start with the easiest of those." Said Caesar, anticipating Fenris' questions by skimming his surface thoughts. "The Triumvirate of Blood was created one thousand years ago after the Ninety Day War. The war resulted in the deaths of thousands of individuals. An entire species was placed at the brink of extinction and now that Oberoth has sacrificed himself, it is safe to say that no more golems walk the earth."

"But why did he sacrifice himself?"

"When the Triumvirate was first formed, the planet had a much more resonant magical field. The age of science has reduced much of the faith in magic despite both being based on the same principles. We were able to draw energy from the very air and place it inside stone. We forged a great obelisk that contained the power of generations. In order to activate the power held within, one of the Triumvirate would be forced to end their own life."

"But why? That seems a bit counter-intuitive to me."

"To an extent, magic is and always will be about blood. Equivalent exchange and all that. Without death, life would have no meaning, and magic is fundamental to life; whether mortals understand it or not."

"So Oberoth and this other guy... Malus was it? They activate the obelisk to raise some sort of shield? But you said the shield would fail, that it could never stand against the Pit. What's the Pit?"

"The Pit is a dimension separate from our own. The universe is centred on a concept of balance, so where there is light there must also be darkness. Quantum theory tells us that it is impossible to know a particle's location and momentum to the same degree of accuracy. The more accurately you define one, the less accurately you can measure the other. Think of our universe as the 'location' and the Pit as the 'momentum'. We can coexist, but one must be dominant. For a long time our universe was dominant and the inter-dimensional barriers that protect us from them have been strong, but recently there has been a shift. The Pit is gaining strength and our own reality is weakening as a result."

"I'm sorry but this science stuff is going over my head Caesar."

"Okay... let me simplify. Us good. Pit bad. Us light. Pit dark. Us rational. Pit totally fucked up."

"You don't need to be a dick about it."

"Okay, sorry. The laws of physics such as gravity don't apply there; so in the Pit, magic is free flowing and disorderly. It's utter chaos there, as entropy decreases in our reality, it increases in the Pit. Unfortunately, for us at least, the denizens of the Pit want out. And they are finding ways of cracking into our reality. They contact mortals on our side and offer them wealth and power to help them cross over. Luckily, the really strong ones need much more power than your average Summoner possesses, so we can usually detect their approach. But someone on that side found a way to slip one past the Creator's rulebook. They sent the Daemon across as a child and by doing so, it had the opportunity to mature and create entropy on our side without causing an imbalance."

"And entropy is how they travel from one side to another?"

"Yes, they use chaos to break down the barriers between realities. The first things to come through will be tiny. Mjols probably. Nasty little critters they are. Cute and cuddly one minute and trying to eat you alive the next. But keeping them on our side for too long make the imbalance stronger and the Creator would certainly notice that. They aren't breaking any cosmic rules so long as they maintain balance."

"So if they introduce chaos to our side then they have to put some order on their side?"

"Exactly. The Daemon was swapped for a mortal child when it first crossed, which is why the Creator didn't do anything. There was balance between realities."

"But this Creator guy sounds like a bit of a shit for letting stuff like this happen. Why doesn't he stop the bad guys?" Fenris was getting funny looks because he was staring at the seat in front of him with a ferocious intensity.

"Because in the grand scheme of things, they aren't the bad guys. They simply exist, same as you or I. They act and we react. Newton's third law of motion." Caesar gave a shrug of the shoulders.

"You sound like you've already given up old man. From what you've said the universe is arbitrary, the big picture is that nothing really matters. But then why would the others sacrifice themselves?"

"Because, quite frankly, you've got to tell the 'big picture' to fuck the hell off. The little picture, here and now, is where it's at!" Caesar gave a wolfish grin and faded from view to rest in the recesses of Fenris' mind.

***

The helicopter touched down on UK soil at half past two in the afternoon. A tall man stepped out carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder. His giant biceps flexed as he shifted the weight from side to side and the material of his faded jeans stretched fit to burst with every step. He sniffed the air for a moment then jumped back into the helicopter, pointing southeast.

The helicopter took off again and the loud whup-whup of the blades was the only sound for miles. It launched into the air and began to fly at a dizzying pace, accelerating far beyond the legal limits. Trees sacrificed their orange leaves to the swirling maelstrom that trailed behind the airborne machine.

"So what can I expect once we catch up to it?" asked Fenris.

"Well... I'm not totally sure. It could be a hideous abomination or it could be a stuffed teddy for all I know. I do know it'll be the fight of your life. A fight you are NOT prepared for." Caesar frowned at the younger werewolf.

"So you're saying we should just observe. Watch as it destroys the planet?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Hippocrates came up with the method of diagnosis after close observation and his descendants save lives."

"Enough with the history lessons grandpa!" 

"Well sorry for trying to educate you. I might as well do something useful while I'm stuck in here."

"You're welcome to leave at anytime."

Fenris turned to the pilot of the helicopter and motioned for him to go even faster. The pilot, another werewolf, gave him a look of concern after having seen him gesturing wildly at thin air, then did as he asked.

There was a spot on the horizon. It grew larger and larger as they approached, eventually becoming the rough size and shape of a large bear barrelling through the sky like a rocket. They drew up side by side with the thing, still travelling at great speed.

The thing turned and stared at the helicopter with burning eyes. It stopped and the helicopter curved its path until it was level with the stationary being, blades beating the air to stay upright.

"So good of you to come. It's a pleasant surprise when dinner cooks itself, but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth." It moved closer, leathery wings flapping silently, keeping it airborne. "I can taste the power inside you boy. Delicious."

The Daemon flew straight into the wings, which shattered on impact with its skin. The Daemon had manipulated the atoms of its shell so that they formed more bonds and packed closer together, making his hide harder than diamond. 

The helicopter lurched then reacquainted itself with gravity, falling to the ground below.

Just before impact, Fenris had grabbed the pilot to his chest and thrown both of them out of the passenger window. He rolled and laid the pilot down on a patch of grass, just as fire reached the fuel tank and the copter exploded. He covered the smaller man with his body, shielding him from the blast.

***

"That was lucky." Caesar muttered sarcastically. "I told you that you weren't ready for a confrontation but noooooo! So typical of your generation, no respect."

"Are you happy I saved us or not? A few bruises will just heal over night."

"It's the 'over night' bit that worries me. That thing is a killer. Get it? It almost killed YOU!"

"Yeah, but, it, you know, didn't."

"You can't just go charging into combat like that. You need to be trained in the ways of magic, I'm good but I can't teach like this!"

"Well you'll have to. Because it just found us."

A shard of pure light screamed past Fenris' right ear and he rolled just in time to avoid another that struck the ground he had just been occupying, leaving a scorch mark. The ground beneath his feet began to shake and he was lifted into the air on a crumbling platform of rock and soil. He jumped off and began to race into the nearby woodland as fast as he could to find cover.

"I know you're in there boy. I can just burn you out you know." As if to prove the Daemon's point the trees around Fenris began to burst into green flame then disintegrate in seconds. 

Fenris sprinted as fast as he could to the perimeter of the woodland dodging balls of fire that shot past his head and torched anything in their way. His left shoe was caught by a wisp of flame and it melted into a foul smelling black tar on contact. He growled and was on the verge of shifting when he felt a twinge behind his eyes and a voice telling him to stop.

"If you transform then you won't have access to your magic! That's the only chance you have of stopping it before it's too late."

"I can't use magic anyway. Much good it'll do me. At least this way I'll be able to get far away."

"It'll catch you. You know that now. It can sense your power. Now Fenris I need you to calm your mind."

"How the shitting hell am I supposed to be calm when a bad guy is hurling fireballs at me?!"

"Just do it. Now I need you to focus. Close your eyes." Fenris closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing rate. "Good. Now I need you to think about your power. Think about a shining globe at the centre of your mind. Feel the energy radiating out from it. Now... RELEASE IT!"

A wave of electricity roared out of Fenris' every pore, burning his clothes off and destroying the trees separating him from the advancing Daemon. The Daemon was forced to wrap its shadow wings around itself for protection and that moment of weakness changed the odds entirely.

Fenris clenched his fists and aimed them at the Daemon. He began firing bolts of lightning from them. The Daemon began to retreat slowly but it was too late. Fenris leapt into the air and dragged the Daemon from the sky, coiling himself around it like an eel. The Daemon found it difficult to act with thousands of volts ricocheting around in its head and it was forced to the ground.

"Now Fenris... kill it!" Caesar urged. "Kill it NOW!"

"Wait! You said that it was only part Daemon. That the rest of it was human." Fenris could hear another speaker, giving him different instructions.

"I didn't say that at all. What on earth are you talking about?"

"I SAID IT." The Voice was as old as reality and it echoed from Fenris' core. "THE PIT HAS CHEATED BY TRANSPLANTING ONE OF ITS OWN INTO YOUR UNIVERSE. I HOPE THIS HELPS TO EVEN UP THE ODDS A BIT."

A glyph burned brightly on the Daemons' forehead and somehow Fenris knew exactly what to do. He bit his thumb and smeared the blood from the wound onto the symbol. The Daemon screamed in agony as its body began to shrink, to become fragile, as it had once been. The eyes returned to normal and the skin retook its pale pink hue.

"What did you do?" asked Caesar. He had never heard of this kind of magic, but it felt old and powerful. Could the Voice be... no... He never interfered.

"HE HAS SUBJUGATED THE DAEMON IN A RITUAL OF BLOOD. IT ANSWERS TO HIM NOW." The Voice seemed to fade on the last sentence. 

***

"Where am I?" the words came from the limp figure in Fenris' strong arms. "Who are you people?"

"You're in a forest in East Anglia. My name is Fen-, uh, Freddie." The giant had a big smile on his stubbled face. He was absolutely gorgeous, not to mention he had muscles the size of a small nation. His cock must be... Owen berated himself for being so lustful, after all he had only just woken up to find himself in the company of two strangers, one of whom was staring at him with acute interest.

"You can see me?" asked Caesar in astonishment as he waved a wrinkled hand in front of Owen's face. "You can actually see me?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can see you." Owen was becoming increasingly wary of his new travelling companions.

The last thing he could remember was being drunk at a pub in Devon. Then he'd had some weird dreams about being strapped to table. He prayed to God that the dream wasn't some unbidden fetish trying to escape.

"That must have been some booze!" he whined, clutching at his aching head. "Thank God you guys found me! I must have gotten on a train or something. There should be laws against that sort of thing!"

There was a pregnant pause and then the two began to agree with him and they chatted like old friends. He learned that Freddie was 22, a Pisces, spoke four different languages (English, Russian, French and Italian), played all kinds of sports (rugby, American football, ice hockey), was visiting on a student visa (med student) and preferred cats to dogs (he liked animals to be independent).

It sounded too good to be true, as most lies do. But Owen was determined to suspend his disbelief long enough to get the giant to fuck him. Owen was not a slut by any means, but he would be willing to lose almost all of his dignity for one ride on Freddie. There was something dangerous about him; and there was something else, something intangible, that made Owen feel like he 'belonged' to the big dirty-blonde man.

"So where were you off to before your... detour?" Owen didn't like the short hairy man, but Freddie seemed to defer to him even though it was obvious that Freddie was the Alpha. Wait a second... what an odd thing to think. Owen considered his choice of internal dialogue vocabulary. Anyway, the older man seemed to be a little too interested in Owen. He kept muttering to the giant about him.



***

"It must be because of the blood. I told you - magic always comes down to blood. You claimed ownership of the Daemon's soul by marking him with your blood. That's why he can see me - obviously some kind of psychic link.

"He seems nice Caesar. I can't believe he's the same guy who tried to kill me."

"Well don't you forget that, 'Freddie'" he placed cruel emphasis on the pseudonym. "I don't think he's a threat any more, but his presence is going to allow more of his kind to enter our world."

Caesar cast a mistrustful look at Owen, who was lagging behind after insisting that Fenris let him walk on his own. He was going to keep watch while Fenris slept that night. Just because the little twink couldn't directly hurt him, that didn't mean he wouldn't try to be sneaky and off them in their sleep by some other method.

"He's not a twink Caesar." Fenris gave him a reproachful look and whispered. "His shoulders are too broad, he obviously works out." 

"Alright Casanova, cool your horses. I get that this is, in some twisted way, your idea of romantic. But you need to be objective. He is a Daemon."

"Ex-Daemon. Who is, let me remind you, under my control."

"That's the problem, you're so hormone driven at the moment that you could make a mistake and jeopardise the mission."

"What mission? We stopped him before he did any serious damage. Look, I'm sorry your friends sacrificed themselves for nothing, but there's nothing anyone can do about that."

"You don't understand kiddo. What I saw happening is still going to happen. Nothing's changed except that we have one new ally." Caesar had to accept that having a pet Daemon was a great boon no matter what battle you were fighting.



***



Freddie was standing over Owen, his wide body lit by a tapestry of stars. He was stripped naked, his bronze skin stretched tight over his great muscles. His abs rolled as he chuckled deeply at the look of anticipation in Owen's eyes. He licked his lips and knelt, the plum sized head of his dick flattened against Owen's shins. He bent even further over and kissed Owen on the lips, plunging his tongue into the receptive mouth, claiming territory as his own. Owen closed his eyes and moaned as Freddie began to lick his neck, then his shoulders, then his chest. He stopped at the sensitive nipples, teasing them with his thumb and then his tongue. He moved on, tracing the edges of Owen's firm abdominals with his lips, placing little kisses on each of the six raised muscles. He moved past the groin, looking into Owen's eyes with an expression that gave a promise of future sins.




Council of Elders Ch. 03



Freddie began to massage Owen's legs, built from swimming and cross-country running. His large, strong hands were perfectly suited to the task. They dug in tightly and soothed the muscles. Owen sighed happily and then groaned as Freddie began to make his way up to his lap. He opened his mouth to moan just as Freddie was about to wrap his lips around his aching, throbbing-

"Hey, are you alright Owen?" Freddie was standing over him, with a concerned look on his face. "You were talking in your sleep; you sounded quite upset about something. Bad dream?"



***

I've never written sex before, and while I know that it isn't technically sex so far, I do want your thoughts.



Council of Elders Ch. 04



But never mind all that! I hate that I am writing my own set of rules for the supernatural species, but I can't help it.

Enjoy the show XOXO

***

Fenris stared at the man in his sleeping bag. He was short, maybe 5'8". He had short curly black hair and though his eyes were closed, Fenris could remember the dark brown pools that shone from within. He was fairly slim, but he had definite bulk across his shoulders as well as a visible line of abs on his stomach.

His clothes had torn entirely during his transformation and Fenris had been forced to donate some of his own that he had been carrying in a suitcase that, fortunately, hadn't been incinerated in the helicopter crash. They were still hanging loosely from Owen's frame, but the boy hadn't seemed to notice. He was probably too exhausted to realise he was wearing clothes that were at least four sizes too big for him.

During those brief moments of nudity when Fenris had a lapse in manners, he had seen Owen's naked body. He had seen the flaccid member lying peacefully across his thigh, seen the carefully cultivated patch of hairs that led a trail from his abdomen to his crotch.

"You mustn't get too attached lad." Caesar told him with a sympathetic tone. "I know it's difficult, but you have to remember what he is."

"I know, I know. But he just seems so... harmless."

"It is harmful though boy. It would kill you if it could."

"He's not an it. He's a guy, just like you and me."

"But we're not just guys either. We're werewolves lad... well I used to be. Damn strong ones at that."

"I feel for you, kid, I really do. But it's too dangerous: you never know 

what might start him off again."

"I get it Caesar, I get it. No falling for Daemons." He sat down and began to brood.

Here he was, in the prime of life, with nothing to lose. He had an ancient werewolf camping inside his head and he had a very cute Daemon asleep in his sleeping bag. He had successfully captured his target and temporarily saved the world. But something still nagged at him. He was twitchy and on edge constantly since he had picked up the Daemon. He was always worried that he would say or do something that would reveal his true nature. Life was shitty.

***

Caesar watched his host and listened to his mental ramblings for as long as he could bear, but there was only so much angst a man can take before he wants to make a run for the border. He sank out of Fenris' field of vision and retreated to his own little corner of the boy's mind.

It was important that he remained focused on the task at hand, even though they were momentarily victorious they couldn't just stop working. He hadn't detected any decrease in the energy being emitted from the obelisk, so the sentience they had trapped inside it must still sense a threat. Was it possible that the people the Daemon had been able to kill had possessed enough combined force to allow more of the Pit's denizens to cross? He had been targeting stronger sources of power first, but Caesar had felt the Mjols come and leave this reality before they had had time to intercept the little critters.

If enough of our reality's essence had been transferred to the Pit then small particles of Chaos would be able to filter back. The overall effect was miniscule until the number of particles reached the point when they could collide with each other. Once two Chaos particles smashed together and fused, they would begin to attract other particles of the same origin. If enough clumped together then a doorway would open permanently. There were so few Chaos particles crossing naturally and they decayed so quickly that nothing had ever happened so far, but if the Daemon were somehow reactivated then it would work to increase the flow.

The only logical plan of action was to execute the Daemon and therefore avert catastrophe, but Caesar knew that Fenris would never do it. It was a definite character flaw that the boy had such powerful distinctions between right and wrong. Very few people were lucky enough to be born without empathy and those that were often became homicidal monsters, Caesar had only met one pacifist psychopath in his entire lifetime. Even then, the vampire was only a pacifist because he couldn't be bothered with the "paperwork" of murder.

Caesar frowned internally. It was unlikely that he could convince Fenris to relinquish control of the body for long enough for him to kill the Daemon. And since Fenris and Caesar were the only two people alive who knew what Owen was it was unlikely that he would ever be able to coerce someone else into doing it for him, especially since no one else could see or hear Caesar.

Then it struck him, he would have to tell Owen about his true nature and 

compel him to take his own life for the common good. But that was highly 

risky; it could trigger the transformation and reawaken the Daemon. No, 

Caesar would just have to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.

***

Owen awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and restored. His mind felt 

cleared of all the cobwebs that had been floating around in it last night. A result of which was that he realised a the significance of a few key details he might otherwise have missed. 

1) He was in the middle of nowhere. 

2) He was accompanied by two strangers. 

3) One of the strangers was highly physically threatening. 

4) The other was a creepy old man who was always staring at him. 

5) He was wearing the clothes of someone much larger than he was. 

6) He was lying in a sleeping bag that was not his own. 

And finally 7) He had no memory of the last two days before meeting the two strangers.

This all added up to only one possibility: he had been drugged and kidnapped by an evil satanic cult that wanted to sacrifice him to their heathen god. It was the only plausible explanation that occurred to him. He tried to stand up in order to escape, but his legs still considered themselves to be asleep and he ended up falling flat on his face in front of the giant.

"Uh... Freddie is it?" he asked while attempting to roll onto his knees. He received a nod after a hesitant pause. "Um... would it be possible for me to... leave?"

"About that..." Fenris grinned sheepishly. "Well the thing is... no, you can't."

"Ah. I thought so. Well, it was worth asking." Owen closed his eyes, ran his tongue over his teeth and slumped dramatically.

"It's nothing personal. I just can't let you go anywhere, at least not yet." This last part gave Owen hope; it implied the possibility for escape at a later moment.

"No it's fine, don't worry about it. All I ask is that you kill me before you eat me." Fenris stepped back in shock at the accusation.

"I'm not going to EAT you! What made you think that?"

"Well you obviously gave me something to make me forget the last 48 hours, and you must have kidnapped me. If it's a ransom you're after then you've stolen the wrong guy, my parents are both retired and on a fixed income."

"But where does the eating come into it?"

"Well, that creepy old guy kept talking about demons and stuff, so I just assumed you were cannibalistic Satan worshipers. No offence. I'm sure you guys get a lot of stick from your victims about that sort of thing." Owen spoke frankly without any hint of irony.

Fenris blinked and then began to laugh, a deep baritone that melted over Owen like treacle and made him tingle all over. If he got to listen to that laugh again then he didn't mind if he ended up dinner for a band of crazies with a craving for human flesh.

"You're insane, you know that right?" Fenris was saying between bellows of mirth. "We're not Satan worshipers, we're... paranormal investigators."

"What kind of an idiot do you take me for?" Owen rolled his eyes. "You don't look dumb enough to believe in rubbish like werewolves and vampires." Fenris was wounded at the derisive tone in Owen's voice.

"But apparently dumb enough to worship the Devil?"

"Okay, so maybe I went a little bit overboard. But seriously, what was I supposed to think? I wake up in another guy's clothes, in the middle of nowhere and I get told I'm not allowed to leave."

"The reason I don't want you to go is because I don't want you to get lost. The reason you're wearing my clothes is because you were naked when we found you and we didn't want you to catch your death. As for being in the middle of nowhere, we found you not the other way around."

Owen felt bad for being so quick to jump to conclusions and he couldn't help but feel a slight thrill when he heard that he was wearing the hunk's clothes.

"I'm sorry, I just... I don't know. I guess I lost it."

"That's fine. Do you want to be well-done or medium-rare?"

Fenris nearly collapsed at the look of horror on Owen's face. As the joke dawned, Owen began to laugh too. In those early morning moments, he fell a little bit more in love with the man he knew as Freddie.

***

A small tear formed in the upper atmosphere. It widened to the size of a small boulder and a stream of black dust began to flow out of it. The dust curled in the atmosphere and as they jostled and smacked into each other a great red eye opened in the tear and began to swivel to take in the sky. The eye closed and the stream started to flow even faster, the tear continuing to widen until it stretched for ten yards. The flow ceased suddenly and the dust seemed to settle in the air.

The dust began to coagulate into a flock of raven-like birds with two sets of wings that flapped in an alternating rhythm. There were about ten of the birds that cawed, screeched, and whirled in the dense air. The eye opened again and burned a jealous scarlet before the tear slammed shut with an audible finality.

The birds formed a circle and began to fly in a ring, faster and faster until the movement was a blur of ebony feathers. The ring tightened into a writhing ball that stretched and squirmed. It pushed at the edges of its confinement, until eventually it took the shape of a tall woman wearing a black dress of impeccable tailoring forged from a material unheard of on Earth. She had pale skin like the marble of a tomb, but her eyes glowed red like all of her demonic kin. From between her shoulder blades spouted two feathered wings that fanned out as she began to descend to the frost-riddled ground.

"I'm here at last! Brother Abaddon was unable to complete his mission, thank the Gods, so I'm finally out of that hellhole." She stretched luxuriously as she landed softly. Her voice was a melody that bewitched all who heard it, creeping into the mind like an ill-blown mist.

She snapped the fingers on her right hand and a small flame blossomed above her thumb. It billowed in the direction of north, despite the lack of wind. She snapped her fingers again and the fire winked out of existence. She rocketed back into the sky and twisted into intricate patterns, trying to exercise muscles she hadn't used in millennia.

It had been SO long! But now, with the arrival of Brother Abaddon, it was time to take sweet revenge on the inhabitants of this dimension. For too long had the Pit been a second class reality, for too long had they suffered the indignity of being trapped under the barriers of causality. It was their opportunity to rend this world asunder and create a new dominant force. And if the Creator dared to defy them then they would unleash their latest weapon.

The weapon had taken centuries to build. It had to be kept hidden under layers of wrought Chaos to prevent Him from detecting its presence, so it was nearly impossible to work on without months of prior planning and careful timing. But with the latest breakthrough, the Pit had found a way to annihilate the Creator himself. Not that they had tested it of course. Any action could potentially backfire horrifically and they would be brought before the Creator charged with the ultimate act of treason. But maybe "build" had been the wrong word. The weapon had been grown.

***

Fenris stared gloomily into the coming dawn. He could feel something alien moving out there, it was coming towards them again. There was never any rest for any of them, it would seem. The moment they ended one crisis, they went careening into another one that would probably also end in the destruction of the home-side's universe.

All he had ever wanted was a little bit of respect; instead, he was stranded in an English forest with the proverbial boy-toy and a perverted old man who just happened to be one of the most powerfully magical creatures alive.

He yawned deeply and lay down on the dewy grass. He watched the steady rise and fall of his young captive's chest as the Daemon slept. It was all the boy seemed to do, he was constantly in a state of unconsciousness that made it difficult to gauge his reactions to the events of the last few hours.

He was a fine specimen alright and despite his best efforts Fenris felt a hunger deep in his bones that had nothing to do with food. He could smell the boys intoxicating scent and it was driving him mad. He was so deep in lust that he didn't even care that the object of his desire wasn't even from the same reality.

He stood quietly and moved away from the campfire into a more secluded area of the woods that was still steeped in shadows that clung to the trees like a lover. He undid the button of his tight jeans and slowly rolled them down his thick thighs until they rested by his ankles. Next to go were his boxers, which were being stretched painfully tight by the force of his hard dick.

He was standing with his t-shirt on and his pants around his ankles with a huge erection sticking out from his groin. He had been very fortunate in that, despite his height, he had obtained his father's genes in one specific area. Fenris had a beautiful cock that bobbed in the cold morning air with a nonchalance only fitting to the grossly oversized.

It was nine gorgeous inches of solid dick that stuck straight out without any hint of drooping due to lack of blood supply. It was criss-crossed with veins and arteries that ensured that he would remain at full capacity for as long as he needed to. He was well acquainted with his right hand, and had yet to know the feel of another's bare skin on his own, but he knew that when it came to it he would never have a problem with "maintaining focus".

He leaned one giant hairy arm against a tree on his left as his other hand began to make the journey down to his expanded crotch. He wrapped his hand around the girth of the base and moved it up in a lazy stroke that made him feel weak at the knees. Indeed, on the next stroke he began to pant heavily and dropped onto his backside to stop himself falling over at a critical juncture. He now had both hands free to hold his cock and he curled them both around it and rocked back and forth into his vice like fists. The friction began to make him whimper in pleasure and he used his thumb to dab at the gushing pre-cum that was issuing from the head of his dick.

He brought his finger to his lips and his tongue snaked out to taste the salty appetiser. He quickened his movements and continued to hunch forward, feeling the tingling in his pendulous balls that signalled an oncoming eruption.

With a bellow of triumph, he aimed his throbbing member at his mouth and several spurts of thick creamy cum shot out of his piss-slit. The volleys landed in his open mouth and he had to swallow more than once to stop himself from choking on the sheer volume of his release.

He licked his coated lips and sucked the remains off of the end of his fingers, pausing momentarily to inspect the way it made his hands seem webbed like a lizard.

He felt so much better after that, it was definitely worth the five minute trek from the campsite to this secluded clearing.

***

Owen struggled to stifle his own yell as he emptied his own load into the 

bush he was hiding behind. He groaned quietly as he watched Freddie stand and pull up his boxers and jeans and button himself together. The giant was breathing heavily and seemed slightly disorientated.

SHIT! He had to get back to the campsite first or Freddie would know he'd 

been watched! The show was definitely worth getting eaten or whatever cruel punishment awaited him. That was for certain. It was one of the hottest scenes he had ever witnessed in his life and he couldn't help but feel that it had been in his honour.

The sight of the big man eagerly sucking up his own spunk was something that Owen would never forget. No straight guy liked jizz that much, no fucking way. The guy couldn't even pretend anymore. It was like one of those gay-for-pay porn stars who claimed to be straight but took far too much pleasure in wringing every last drop from his partner to fool anyone.

And that DICK! Oh God! It was the most erotic monstrosity he had ever seen. It was proportioned to Freddie's body, but it still looked like it belonged on a horse rather than a human being.

These thoughts remained on repeat the whole time that Owen was hurtling through the trees back to the tent that he had pretended to be sleeping in.

***

Sorry that its comparatively short, but I didn't feel up to much and I wasn't feeling very inspired. Plus I thought this was a good place to end before the next epic fight scene.



Council of Elders Ch. 05



I warn that this chapter contains scenes that readers may find gratuitously violent. Sorry.

***

The Black Widow swooped down, cackling as she flew. Her locks of shining black hair streamed behind her as her feathered wings beat contemptuously at the thin evening air. She accelerated towards the tiny figure running towards the light and safety of the small town that lay twinkling in the near distance. 

Her desperate prey was sprinting harder now. She was leaving a cloying trail of fear and adrenaline, which acted like giant neon sign that said "HERE I AM! EAT ME!"

The girl could tell that she was being followed, that much was obvious. She kept turning her head to steal furtive glances at the impenetrable darkness that lay behind her. The Widow increased her speed even more so that she was almost on top of the girl, the wind rushing through the space between their bodies. She could just reach down and tear the terrified child from the ground like plucking a blade of grass.

The little girl chose that moment to look up again and the moment that she did she was doomed. Those red eyes, those red eyes that glowed like the embers of a dying star, those eyes that burned into her and made her blood turn to ice. The girl could feel her legs locking into place, powerless to resist the force of will behind those terrible eyes. She froze on the spot as the Widow landed like a butterfly on the sodden field.

"Be calm little-one." The Widow cooed softly, her forked tongue lashing out to taste the air. "I'm not going to hurt you. It'll be much easier if you stop running."

"W-w-who-who are you?" The girl stared at the beautiful woman who had been following her. The Widow's skin was a pure ivory that shone in the moon's borrowed luminescence. Her lips were the shape of Cupid's bow and red as sunset. She smiled showing perfect rows of teeth.

"My dear, the better question would be 'what are you'. But that's a story for another day. Unfortunately, you won't be able to hear that story."

"Please, let me go. I-I-I'm sorry if I've upset you for some reason." The girl began to choke on her fearful sobs.

"Oh no. Don't cry. I hate it when my food cries. Everything gets all salty." The Widow let out another harsh cackle and began to circle the shivering child.

"Why are you doing this? Why were you chasing me?"

"I'm absolutely starving, that's why." The Widow began to lick her lips at the thought of sinking her teeth into the pale throat of the young girl.

In the face of terrible danger, the girl did what she had been taught to do by her grandmother: she began to sing. The song had no words as such; it was more of a feeling deep down in the soul. The notes gave off a thin shimmer as they spilled from the girl's mouth. The air above the girl began to dance with spectral light, acting like a flare that, on a clear night, could be seen for miles around. The power was raw, unfocused; yet it was trained enough to make things even more difficult for the Black Widow.

The Widow raised a pale hand and sent a jagged fork of lightning at the girl, but the electricity dissipated on contact with a thin membrane that seemed to hover above the girl's skin. She tried again, but the young voice continued to blossom forth. 

This was old magic, old and powerful. There had been a time when the Black Widow would have batted the girl aside with a single glancing blow, but she was so very hungry and so very weak. What awful luck that she should face an opponent trained in the Vocative on her first day back on Earth. She would have to use some other tactic to lower the brat's defences.

"What a beautiful voice you have child," she crooned. "Who taught you?" The girl continued to sing, obviously intelligent enough not to break her concentration. A single lapse in the lyrical weaving of the magic would result in her immediate demise.

"I doubt it was your daddy's side, men don't see the power in music. It must have been your mummy... or maybe your granny?" The Widow was determined to distract her meal from her task. She was rewarded by a brief flicker of fear. "Hmmm... yes, I see. The matriarch of your family has been teaching you."

Unsurprising, the magic was too old to be from just one generation. Though sorcerers had a disturbing habit of living much longer than they should (it had something to do with the constant magical field that surrounded their bodies), no mere human could be over one thousand years old.

Right. That was enough. The girl clearly had a set of lungs that a blue whale would be proud to own. The Widow inhaled deeply and started to scream blue-bloody-murder at the top of her voice. The sheer ferocity of the noise made the girl lose her place for the single moment needed.

The Widow lunged with triumph blazing in her eyes, but in the instant before contact with the girl's skin a white shining light barrelled into her and she was sent flying into the mud.

"Not my granddaughter you bitch!"

The white light coalesced into a tall woman with hair the colour of moonlight. She raised a long sword from a scabbard on her belt and advanced on the Widow, who stayed motionless in the muddy earth. Her cream robe billowed around her bare feet as she strode forward. The Widow rose oddly. Her neck was twisted and her arms seemed to bend at strange angles. Her face was caked in dirt and blood was dripping from a mouth that was now full of black razor-sharp teeth.

"I see that you no longer bother with the glamour, foul beast." The elderly sorceress said with a smirk of triumph.

"You caught me off guard you old hag!" The Widow crowed as she shed the final vestiges of her human form. "We both know that you can't beat me in a fair fight. You haven't got the power. I may have just arrived, but I've still got enough juice to crush you into the ground."

"My granddaughter seemed to do excellent job of holding you off all by herself." The old sorceress smirked again.

"I have not battled a gifted Vocateur in quite some time; I must admit I was impressed to see that someone still studied the old ways. But that's not enough to stop me eating her."

The Widow bent over and two pairs of legs burst out along her torso. She rose on eight clicking talons on a body covered in black, barbed scales. Her face morphed so that it was covered by a row of eight glowing red eyes and a gaping red mouth. The Widow was now huge and spider-like. She let out an odd screech that sent echoes into the night.

"I don't know who or what you are, but if you think I'm going to let you kill my granddaughter then you're in for one hell of a surprise." The old woman settled into a stance that would allow her to attack and defend as necessary. "And who said anything about a fair fight?"

Runes began to slide up and down the surface of the sword in her hands. They raced along the blade, covering it with dancing golden light. The edge seemed to glint and as if to demonstrate the weapon's power, the old sorceress left a trail of sparks in the air as she spun the sword in her hands.

"A magic sword? God... what a cliche." The Widow's voice was garbled by the many jaws that worked to shape it. Clearly, the Widow was not quite so adept at speech in this form.

"I'm so sorry Granny. I tried to keep going, but I just couldn't." The girl was nearly in tears.

"It's okay love, you did very well. You kept her off long enough for me to get the signal and get here." The old woman's expression suddenly changed from pride to iron. "Claire, I need you to run. Do you understand?"

"Yes Granny!" came the hasty reply, followed by the sound of shoes clomping away through the thick grass of the fields. 

The moment the noise was gone, the sorceress whirled into a flurry of action. She sliced forward with the blade, but was rebuffed by flames that flew in plumes from the Widow's mouth. She dodged a second gout and swivelled in towards one of the legs. The sword slashed through the air and severed the first leg like a hot knife through butter, making the Widow scream in pain, surprise and fury. A spout of green blood gushed from the stump and the Widow was left unbalanced. The patch of earth where the blood sprayed began to bubble and froth as spiders the size of a man's fist started to crawl out of the ground.

The spiders leapt for the old woman, landing on her robes and clamping down with razor teeth. She spun out of the robe, leaving only the flower-patterned night gown she had worn to bed. She threw herself aside just in time as the spiders exploded like eight-legged grenades.

Another billow of fire snaked out of the Widow's red maw and lashed across the sorceress' thigh. She stumbled back in agony and only just raised the sword in time to block a clawed foot that struck out at her.

She pushed forward and sent the Widow backward a few paces. She bit her right thumb and thrust her hand into the ground. The blood mingled with the earth for a moment, and then cracks started to form along the ground. A fissure opened up between the Widow's legs and she fell down into the hole with a cry of rage. The sorceress bit her left thumb and then thrust that hand into the ground causing the fissure to close up and swallow the Widow into the depths of the soil.

A momentary glimmer of victory shone in the sorceress' eyes, and then the field began to shake under her. A lone talon gouged its way out of the mud and then another and another. The Widow dragged herself to the surface and lunged at the startled woman.

The Widow struck again and again, her claws never quite managing to get through the sorceress' parries. She tried a different tack and backed off before spitting a ball of fire towards the kneeling old woman. The fireball struck the edge of the blade, which held for a few moments and then flew from the woman's hands in a lazy parabola that ended with the sword buried in the mud a few yards away. The old lady tried to make a desperate grab for it, but was yanked backwards by the Widow's claws.

"Don't toy with me! Just end it!"

"But I like to play with my food first..." was the chattering response. The Widow raised the old woman up so that she was level with her many glowing eyes.

"Bad idea." The sorceress grinned and barked a single note of pure defiance. The sword wrenched itself from the ground and flew into the old woman's outstretched hand. She swung it up and then brought it down heavily on the Widow's head, cleaving the cluster of eyes in two and partially blinding the Widow. The creature screamed again and lowered her impossibly sharp mouth onto the sorceress who was laughing hysterically even as she saw the rows of teeth surrounding her. The Widow clamped her jaws around the old woman's head and bit down, ripping the neck and sending torrents of blood in every direction.

The sorceress died in torment as she was eaten alive by the Black Widow, but her death ensured that any future opponent would have a much better chance of victory.

The Widow was temporarily too weak to transform back into her human form, she was forced to crawl away and hide until the exhaustion of the battle faded. Her torn limbs would never regrow, not in this reality at least. When at last she had the energy to raise the glamour again, she had one eye and one empty socket as well as two fingers missing from her left hand. The wounds inflicted by the ensorcelled blade would never heal entirely. Her mouth was still bloody from the kill, teeth still blackened and inhuman. It was almost daylight and she was still too tired to fly, so she slumped down in the bushes she had hidden in and went to sleep. 

***





They were sitting in a small clearing, resting from yet another day of 

endless walking. Neither of his companions seemed to be suffering from the torturous trek they had been on since dawn. In fact, Owen had never seen either of them go to sleep at all. It was quite the mystery, but Owen didn't have the energy to delve into it at the moment.

"How big could this forest possibly be?" thought Owen as he rubbed his aching legs. "We've been walking for days." 

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. They dress up in weird clothes and randomly burst into song?" asked Fenris with a perplexed expression.

Owen had been attempting, without much luck, to explain the finer points of musical theatre to the pair of werewolves. But he was about as successful as he had been when he had tried to teach them about Harry Potter. He had just finished describing the various types of voices and had started detailing the plot of The Sound of Music to some people who had apparently been living in a cave for the past fifty years.

"Don't they have TVs where you guys come from?" His two travelling companions began to share sheepish grins. "Seriously? What are you, Amish?"

"Uh-"

"Yes that's EXACTLY what we are!" Cried Caesar with a masterfully subtle elbow to Fenris' diaphragm. "We're on our Rumspringa right now actually."

"You seem a bit... old to be doing your Rumspringa. And you two sound like you come from completely different places. And you have a crucifix around your neck. And you-"

"Alright, alright! We're not Amish. Why do you care so much?"

"Because you have, for all intents and purposes, kidnapped me. You are taking me on some convoluted trail through a forest to god-only-knows where and you keep lying about who you are." Owen placed his hands on his hips and frowned at them until one of them cracked.

"He's right Caesar; we can't keep hiding things from him forever. He'll find out eventually and by then we won't be able to help him." Fenris gave Owen a broad smile that made the young man's heart flutter.

"Okay, fine. Owen, it's time we told you something we should have told you a long time ago. The truth is... we're aliens." Caesar's lupine face was totally deadpan, not a single twitch belied his blatant dishonesty.

"Aliens?"

"Yes. Aliens. You have been selected as the specimen of the human race who will be taken back to our mothership and examined. Don't be scared, the probing only hurts a little the first time. I'm told that with adequate lubrication, the probee can even enjoy the experience."

Owen's mouth gaped in disbelief at the audacity of the old man's lie. He swivelled back to face Fenris and gave him a menacing look. Fenris blinked, momentarily taken aback by his mentor's creativity, and then grinned again. The giant then turned on the spot and began walking into the forest. Both remaining men heard the sound of his footfalls getting softer and softer until there was silence. Owen hitched up his too-big jeans and stalked after Fenris while Caesar brought up the rear with barely concealed mirth.

Owen increased his pace until he was jogging beside the massive werewolf. 

Neither of them talked, it seemed like some unspoken agreement that they would never mention what Caesar had said ever again. They continued in this fashion for some time until Owen could no longer maintain the speed and started to wheeze. Instead of slowing down, Fenris simply swung around and grabbed Owen under the legs, dragging him over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. Even with Owen's 160lb frame hanging from his right shoulder, he kept going at the same velocity.

Instead of complaining, Owen simply took the opportunity to enjoy the view, namely that of Fenris' buttocks rising and falling as he swept over the grass at a trot. Caesar was loping gracefully behind them in powerful strides that made up for the difference in altitude between he and Fenris. Owen scowled at the dirty grin working its way around the old man's mouth then noticed something else that made him rub his eyes; he could have sworn for a moment that Caesar's feet left the ground and he walked on thin air. He looked again but the old man seemed to be very much connected to the floor. But no, that was impossible. He pushed the idiotic thoughts away, blaming his lapse in rationality on caffeine withdrawal. If he had been paying more attention he would have seen that Caesar left no footprints where he trod.

***

Fenris strode on through the trees, his nose guiding him towards civilisation that lay beyond the woods. He couldn't believe that Caesar was being so rigid about not telling Owen the truth. It seemed pointless to keep lying to the guy for much longer, he was going to work it out eventually. The werewolf felt oddly compelled to talk to the man about, well, anything. Was it because he was so full of life and unmarred by the cynicism of the world? Was it because he had an easy laugh and a fiery temper? Or was it simply that he was Fenris' ideal man? Or maybe it was D - All of the above.

"You okay back there?" he asked the limp figure over his shoulder. It was important to him that Owen wasn't uncomfortable, even such a compromising position.

When there was no answer, he stopped walking and hefted the man into his arms. The Daemon was fast asleep, snoring gently and burrowing his face into the werewolf's chest like kitten squirming to get comfy. Fenris carried him in his arms like a newborn, until at last, the sun went down and they made up camp. He carefully wrapped the boy up in his sleeping bag and sat down by the fire. Caesar was pacing around the embers, muttering quietly, planning their next move.

They were on the very edge of the woods now. It would be much easier going from here, but he hoped that Owen knew how to drive. Fenris looked into the sky and saw the full moon. But that wasn't right. The full moon shouldn't be for at least another few weeks. Fenris grimaced as he felt the first wave of tremors course through his body. He ran deeper into the forest, trying to get as far away from the light of the campfire as possible before transforming.

Fenris stumbled and fell as his bones began to crack and realign. He moaned in pain as thick black hairs began to sprout. His skin began to tear, but sealed itself immediately leaving no trace of a scar. It was almost impossible to kill a werewolf mid-change because his cells were replicating so fast that any damage would be healed almost instantly.

He cried out again in agony as he felt his feet and hands grow sharp claws. Fenris leaned against a tree and bit hard into one of the thickest branches to stop himself from screaming. But he tore right through it with his serrated teeth and powerful jaw. His mind went momentarily blank as he was filled with a burning desire to rip and tear, but reasserted itself before his instincts overpowered him.

Something was definitely up. Hs entire body was thrumming with power and he seemed to be getting stronger every second. He scraped a lengthened talon against the tree and clove it in two with that single swipe. He howled and the noise was echoed by wolves that prowled in the distance.

"I suppose you're wondering what's going on kid. Well I'd better explain 

myself." Caesar's voice was coming from inside his head rather than from some projection. "You must be wondering why you're suddenly twice your normal size."

"You did this?" thought Fenris.

"Apparently the fact that you have all the magic of an Elder mixing with your own means that your werewolf is now as big as the two of ours combined and then some. It makes sense if you think about it really; our wolf form is based mainly upon our magical strength."

"Then why was I always the runt of the pack? My brothers were always bigger than me."

"You had never accessed your power before, so the magic couldn't be let out. Your old form, though magnificently impressive by normal werewolf standards, was nothing compared to what you can become now. Especially since my presence is adding to your strength. My, my, you ARE a big boy aren't you?" Caesar's projection appeared and walked around Fenris' hulking frame, examining the sleek fur and the coiled layers of muscle with expert interest.




Council of Elders Ch. 05



"But what about the full moon? That shouldn't be there for a fortnight at least."

"Well, I'll admit I had a hand in it. But you did all the heavy lifting."

"What are you talking about? I didn't do that. You must have done it."

"Even I'm not that good kid. Magic has a life of its own, and yours is more alive than I've ever seen. It's pretty much sentient and it decided that it wanted to give you a bit of a boost. I gave it a few directions on the specific method, but the power came from you not me. The fact you didn't realise is a sign of just how strong you are."

"Isn't that a little... much? What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Yeah Caesar. No one gets this ridiculously overpowered without some kind of horrendous drawback."

"Tell me about it. When I was alive, I was blind. But that's just the price you pay for clairvoyance. I don't know what'll happen to you, but I'm sure it'll make up for your advantages." Caesar suddenly blurred and then his projection vanished. "Oh... so that's it."

"What?" thought Fenris.

"It appears that, in order to keep you from going insane and rampaging across the world, I need to be fully focussed on keeping your humanity intact.

"You mean that if you stop concentrating on holding my magic in check, I'll go mental?"

"I think the correct term is to 'suffer from a psychotic break' but yes, you will go - as they say - batshit." Caesar suddenly groaned with effort. "Which unfortunately means no combat advice when you're in this form. You'll remain like this until the full moon goes down. Happy hunting! Oh, by the way, once I disappear you'll start to feel... dumb. But don't worry, it's perfectly normal."

With that, Caesar's presence seemed to diminish and Fenris became more aware of his surroundings. The tree he had been leaning on was now lying broken at a 45 degree angle, the roots sticking out of the ground in a tangled mass of mud. The stars in the sky seemed to call out to him; they were much brighter than ever before. His snout twitched and he caught the scent of something wonderful. He recognised it briefly, but a moment later the thought was whisked away. He crashed to the ground, his front paws making contact with the decomposing leaves of the woodland floor.

He could hear the sound of hooves off to the right and turned just in time to see a herd of deer racing past. He swivelled and gave chase like a lion. He easily caught up with the panicked deer, his long strides matching their faster yet smaller ones. He pounced on the nearest doe, an old female who cantered arthritically behind the others in the herd. His teeth broke through the surface of her skin with an effortless grace that ended the prey's suffering before it even began. The other deer quickened their pace until he could no longer hear them. But he wasn't concerned, he had enough food to keep him sated for the moment.

The wind suddenly changed and he raised his bloody head from the carcass. He caught another waft of that smell, that smell that was so sublime; he couldn't describe it, even in his head. He saw a bright light up ahead and nearly pushed over another tree in his excitement. He slowed down and raised his head to sniff the air once again. It was coming from a place directly in front of him; it was very familiar but once again, his fuzzy thoughts were evading him.

There, wrapped in a furry blanket, lay a boy. This was obviously the source of Fenris' interest. He crept forward as silently as is possible when you're a half-tonne werewolf. The boy stirred in his sleep and his eyes flashed open at the sound of Fenris' heavy breathing.

***

Owen stared up at the giant beast that was mere inches from his face. He would have screamed for help, but there was a strange look of longing in the creature's eyes. It was almost human. The creature moved even closer and opened its mouth, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth that glinted ominously in the moonlight. A tongue as red as mahogany was hanging from the beast's panting maw. Owen filled his lungs with gasps of terrified air, but the monster just licked his face like a puppy. The monster then simply wrapped itself around him and went to sleep.

He took a brief moment to calm his nerves, and then examined the thing more closely. It was a wolf, he thought, about the size of a Kodak Grizzly on anabolic steroids. But the strange thing was that its body seemed more suited to bipedal motion than quadrupedal, as though it were more used to standing up on its hind legs. It seemed as though it could not possibly exist. No amount of food could keep this beast alive for an extended amount of time, it was just too big. 

Its fur was lustrous and Owen felt it with a tentative hand, marvelling at the smooth texture of the fine, unmatted hairs. The beast gave a contented rumble and the thick tail that curled around its front paws began to thump the ground enough to shake the logs in the fire. It opened its eyes again and looked into Owen's brown ones. There was something about the colour of those orbs that Owen couldn't help find familiar. Images of Fenris laughing flashed through his mind. Those soul-piercing fragments of sapphire that had dazzled him when they had first met. The truth hit Owen like a freight train.

"Freddie? Is that you?" He saw a brief flicker of sadness. "It is you 

Freddie. Well... at least I know you're not an alien."

***

Finally! I was wondering how to make it not completely cliched, but these 

days everything's a cliche.



Council of Elders Ch. 06



I light of the comments by "Anonymous" I have decided to make a list of things I shall never do as long as I write.

1. We the people do hereby swear never to describe a world in which male pregnancy can happen. Ever. 

2. We the people do hereby swear never to make a really good monogamous couple have a threesome for NO GOOD REASON WHATSOATALL. You know who you are.

3. We the people do hereby swear never to make characters unnecessarily miserable and useless, even if they're totally submissive power-bottoms.

4. We the people do hereby swear never to write more than a few lines of song lyrics, even if a character is singing said song. If readers can't work out the songs from the clues provided, they should have their Rainbow Badges confiscated.

Enough with all that then.

***

Fenris dreamt. He was wrapped in heavy coats that weighed him down; he was getting uncomfortably hot in all the clothes and began to shout out for someone to help get him out of them. A hand reached into his line of sight and he grabbed at it gratefully. He pulled on the hand but it turned into a long claw that slashed at him. He tried to pull away, but he couldn't get enough distance between the claw and his throat. 

"Freddie!" a voice crashed into his dream and he woke with a start.

Fenris' eyes snapped open and he sat up, breathing heavily. At first, he was still half-asleep and he turned from side to side to avoid the claws that vanished like trails of smoke in the morning air. He stopped his rapid turns and wiped his brow, swatting at the sweat that clung to his hair.

"Freddie, are you okay? You were moaning and I thought I should wake you up." Owen had a concerned look on his young face.

"No, it's... I'm fine." He grumbled, scratching at the daily growth of stubble that would have taken a normal man a week to produce.

"So.... Aliens huh?" Owen had his eyebrows raised and a smirk that worried the werewolf intensely.

"I'm sorry man. Caesar gets a little weird sometimes, but he's a good guy." Fenris tried to smile, but he was too exhausted to lift his cheeks enough to pull it off.

"He's one sick puppy alright." Owen glanced quickly at Fenris but didn't get any response from the tired werewolf.

"You can say that again," Fenris lay back and Owen giggled, Fenris sat up and realised a moment later that he wasn't wearing any clothes.

'Fuck!' He thought to himself. 'They must have torn when I transformed.'

"Do you always sleep naked? Things must have gotten a bit hairy last night." Owen choked down a bubble of laughter, but Fenris still didn't notice the wording.

"Mmmm, yeah, hairy." Fenris parroted before catching up with the rest of the boy's sentence. "Wait? What?"

Owen stood up, placed his hands on his hips and bent down over Fenris. He made a playful growling noise and then swiped at the werewolf's furred chest. Fenris considered his next move, goldfishing wildly.

"You could have told me that you occasionally turn into a giant... thing, but noooooooo. I had to be scared out of my knickers when you come clomping through the trees at some ungodly hour and come and rest your head on my lap for the rest of the night."

Caesar popped out of the ground in front of Owen and shouted "BOO!" at the top of his lungs. The young man jumped back in shock and proceeded to chase the elderly werewolf around the campfire, apparently unfazed by the old man's ability to appear from thin air. This momentary delay gave Fenris time to think of something witty and intelligent to say.

"Uhhhh..." he croaked, blinking stupidly. Owen stopped chasing Caesar and stood over Fenris.

"Don't worry about it, I wasn't offended or anything. It was quite nice really; your fur is very soft." Owen giggled again and sat down next to the confused werewolf.

"At least this way, we can finally be honest with each other." Fenris breathed out. "So for starters, you should know that my name isn't Freddie."

"Old news I'm afraid. I worked that one out when you were drooling on my legs. You're not called something tacky like, I don't know, Romulus?"

Fenris blushed and turned away quickly, masking his crestfallen expression. He was proud of his name, even if it was a bit pretentious. Fenris was a great wolf who had bitten off a god's arm after tricking him, and the young werewolf was happy to share the name of the first of his ancestors.

"I take it that Caesar's some sort of ghost then, given his propensity for walking on air and passing through solid objects."

"Well not exactly, but you get the gist." Caesar was scowling at his secret being revealed, but he was more cross that he had given the game away even before Fenris' escapades. "Is that it? There's nothing else that might come up later is there?"

The two conspirators glanced at each other. They agreed silently that Owen did not need to know about his own true nature just yet. They shook their heads and Owen slumped back in a huff.

"Well, that was more disappointing than the last season of Greek. Are you sure there aren't any more juicy bits of info?" They shook their heads again and Caesar's image began to fade.

"Wait, where are you going?" Asked Fenris in alarm.

"Well, now that I don't need to pretend to be 'alive' I'm not going to bother." Caesar leered at him. "And I'm sure you two have lots to talk about."

***

Caesars absence caused an awkward silence between the two men. His last suggestive words had been enough to make them avoid each other's eyes for fear of blushing like a schoolgirl.

"So..." Started Fenris in an overly conversational tone.

"You know what? Screw it." Owen lunged forward, landing on Fenris' still-naked body. He had had more than enough of this sexual tension bollocks. If he hadn't worked out that Fenris had a thing for him on day one, then he definitely figured it out when the werewolf had been snuffling around his crotch like a starved dog the night before.

"What are you- UUNGH!" Fenris cried out as Owen attacked his broad nipples with a euminidine fury, licking and sucking until they felt sore. "Jesus Christ! STOP!"

Owen pulled back with a look of abject misery on his face. He was clearly upset that Fenris had been so underwhelmed by his first attempt.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"No. No, of course not. You were just a little... enthusiastic." Truth be told, Fenris felt as though he had been attacked by lemmings. "I didn't think you'd want to do this so suddenly, I was going to try to be romantic."

"Fuck that! Come on, it's been days and I'm tired of pretending I'm not desperately into you." Owen huffed at the werewolf's sudden reticence and positioned himself so he could get a hand onto the larger man's hardened cock.

He began to move his fist up and down the iron length in easy strokes that sent waves of sensation coursing through Fenris' body. It was so big that Owen could barely fit his hand around it, but obviously he was doing a good enough job from the werewolf's perspective. A bead of pre-cum collected at the very tip of his erection and just as it was about to roll down the shaft, Owen swooped in and licked it away in one fluid motion.

Fenris groaned again and again as Owen continued to treat his cock like an ice cream cone, licking at the shaft and head and mopping up the errant drops of pre-cum that bubbled constantly from the tip. He reached out a paw and placed it on the younger man's head, directing Owen's head bobbing to synchronise with the instinctual thrusts of his hips. Fenris could feel himself losing control, as though he was having an out of body experience. He could see the hand on Owen's head, but he couldn't believe that it was his own. He couldn't believe that he was being so freely sexual, something he had been denying himself for years.

For Owen, this entire incident was a dream come true. He was now practically choking on the enormous head of a dick he had wanted to suck for the better part of a week. He licked the veins that ran along the shaft, supplying it with hot blood that kept it rock hard. He moved his left hand from its place on Fenris' back, to cupping his pendulous balls. His hand seemed to swim in the burlap mass of the werewolf's sack, and he tickled the rolling tide. This touching elicited another moan from Fenris who tried to contain himself but was unable to prevent the inhuman growl from escaping his clenched teeth.

Owen could feel the balls begin to lift up, a telltale sign of an impending explosion. He pulled back and sucked exclusively on the head so that, when Fenris howled and released his load, Owen was able to catch every drop. He was forced to swallow between each volley, but at last he pulled away with a glassy-eyed expression as he licked the final vestiges of cum from his lips.

Fenris was pushed back onto the grass as Owen climbed onto him and began to kiss him ferociously, invading his mouth with a remarkably prehensile tongue. The werewolf could taste his own release in Owen's mouth and the thought that the young man would be carrying his cum in his belly for the rest of the day made him groan again as another spurt blasted from his oversensitive cock.

He was still exhausted from the night before, and he rolled over so that Owen was on top of him. The Daemon's weight pressed down on him comfortably and he wished that they could stay that way forever. As Fenris drifted back to sleep he could feel the boy shifting into a position that would allow them to stay entwined.

***

Fenris woke up a few hours later, his arms wrapped around the boy whose sleeping innocence belied his foul mouth and devilish tongue. He could no longer deny it, to himself or to anyone else. He was head-over-heels in lust. It wasn't the fiery kind that burnt out in a fortnight; it was the constant thrumming of his heartbeat that promised a deeper kind of relationship. 

Owen was still fully clothed, still with some semblance of dignity. The werewolf stared at his lover's face as they lay side by side on the grass. He tried to map every feature of the face, noting the flaws and imperfections that made the boy seem so much more human, so much more real. The nose was a fraction too large, the eyes the tiniest bit too close together, the ears sticking out that little bit too much and lips that were a millimetre too thin. But none of that made the slightest bit of difference as far as Fenris saw things. 

"You should take a photo. It'll last longer." Owen opened his eyes and grinned warmly at his admirer. "You're going to make me blush if you keep staring."

"I don't care." Fenris smiled back, his expression calm and happy.

"Well I do care. I swear to God, if you two don't stop making goo-goo eyes at each other this instant I'll-"

"And good morning to you too Caesar." Owen rolled his eyes and sat up, the moment over.

"I'd be much better if I didn't have to put up with this lovey-dovey crap." Caesar grumbled under his breath. But it was clear from his face that he didn't have too much of a problem with the whole thing. 

Fenris stood and stretched his arms and legs, earning a highly appreciative glance from Owen. He was just about to open his mouth to give a witty retort when a thud from behind him caught his attention. He turned just in time to see the sharp talons that grazed the air in front of his surprised face.

***

The Black Widow had bided her time, but it was a commodity she was running low on. She had to release Brother Abaddon before the Gate closed for another millennium. If she waited too long then the Gate would slam closed and she would trapped in this reality for another thousand years. She had caught his scent on the wind and had followed it to a clearing in the woods. She had maintained enough distance to evade detection by whatever magical field was obscuring Abaddon's thoughts from her. She had found him, but something was very wrong; she couldn't detect any trace of the Daemon other than his scent. Even that was so faint as to be unrecognisable to a less powerful tracker than the Widow was.

She could see two distinct shapes on the ground beneath her flapping wings. They appeared to be lover's deep in an embrace, but there was something odd about one of them. He seemed to be radiating massive amounts of power like a loose pipe that couldn't contain all the water it was carrying. The magic was literally spilling out of him in quantities that should have been lethal to the human next to him. Then the truth dawned on the Widow. The smaller of the two was Brother Abaddon's human shell, as yet unchained from its mortal bonds.

She made a decision and dove down upon the pair as they were just rising from sleep. She needed to time it perfectly, or else the dog-man would sense her approach. She sped downward and at the very last minute curved her wings so that she landed with a thump on the ground. She congratulated herself on an excellent landing, especially since she was half-blind. Rather than announce her arrival more obviously, she reached out one clawed hand and swatted at the dog-man.

***

It was his lightning reflexes that saved Fenris from a sticky end in that moment. He ducked backwards and the claw missed him by a hair's breadth. He swivelled on the spot as another sliced through the air toward him. He turned fully and looked into Owen's eyes, begging him to run away with silent pleas. A claw raked his back in that instant, but the cut was shallow enough that the slashknitted itself closed in moments.

Owen seemed to get the message and he bolted for the tree line just as Fenris called a bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky to strike at the creature attacking him. Impossibly, the jagged fork missed. It splintered the earth where it struck, but the she-beast was unharmed.

He took a closer look at the monster as they circled each other. She had one blood red eye. It looked just like the eyes of the Daemon that Owen been host to. The other socket looked as though the eye had been gouged out of it violently.

Fire blossomed from his hands as he threw flame after flame at the monster, but she dodged each one with effortless grace. He changed tactic and sent waves of cascading ice that flowed from the pores in his skin. The air cooled significantly and if it hadn't been for his thick body hair, he would have begun to shiver. Crystals formed in the air as be breathed heavily from the expenditure of the magic. But the effect was exactly what he had hoped it would be. The monster had dropped from the air as her wings had become too heavy with frost. Her main advantage in the fight now gone, he advanced on her slowly.

"Fenris! LOOK OUT!" He heard Owen shout from the distance. He reacted just in time to stop short of the spider-web of shadows that lay on the path to the creature. They were camouflaged perfectly with the forest surroundings and he would never have noticed them if Owen hadn't pointed them out. He picked up a pebble and threw it into the shadows. It melted. 

"What should we do now boy?" Caesar asked from next to him.

"I thought I told you to keep Owen safe?" He turned and barked at the old werewolf, rage in his eyes. The blazing blood lust that was coursing through him was enough to send Caesar scurrying back to Owen's side. Fenris turned back to the creature and grinned, malice marring his handsome face.

He looked into the patch of darkness that the creature was crouched in. There was something wrong with the way that she was standing, as though she were unbalanced somehow. Fenris' tactical mind worked furiously and he made a decision to change his method of attack. If he couldn't get to her, she was going to have to come to him. He raised his hands and made a motion as though he were dragging a rope. The Widow squealed as he was pulled inexorably toward him.

***

'What magic is this?' She thought to herself as she scrabbled on the ground to find something, anything that she could hold on to.

The boy seemed to be desperate to keep her away from Brother Abaddon at all costs. That didn't make any sense, surely he would have killed the Daemon the moment he showed weakness? And why was Abaddon pretending to be a human still?

She flicked between her layers of sight trying to spot something that could inform her. Damn that wretched hag, she couldn't see on any of the planes that had been chopped off during their battle. Finally, searching on the seventh plane of existence, she spotted it. A shining red cord was wrapped around Brother Abaddon's neck; it was plugged directly into the werewolf's arm like an IV drip. If she could slash it whilst viewing the seventh plane, the connection should be nullified and Brother Abaddon would be freed.

Instead of slowing herself down, she suddenly launched forward. This surprised the werewolf so much that he let go of the air and she was instantly free from his magical grip. She soared over him in one leap and landed on the sodden earth next to the small human that Brother Abaddon inhabited. She could hear the thunderous feet of the werewolf racing towards them but she was quick enough that he would never get there in time. Her left arm morphed into a scythe and she brought it down on the boy's neck.

She heard the howl of rage from behind her and cackled as she was batted aside with such force that it broke nearly every bone in her body. She laughed cruelly as she watched the red chord blowing in the wind. She hadn't actually cut the boy, that might damage Abaddon, but she had torn the link that bound him to the werewolf.

***

Owen writhed in pain as he lay moaning on the ground. He felt as though his skin was burning from the inside out. It was sheer agony, but he could still see Fenris overhead, could still feel the hot tears that dripped onto his face from the man holding him.

There was a voice inside his head. It was trying to speak to him, but he couldn't hear it over the blood rushing to his skull. He tried to listen more closely and suddenly he was floating in space. It was a white world that stretched infinitely in every direction. He wasn't alone however.

Standing next to him was an old man. He had a flowing white beard and was wearing a simple white toga held together by a red broach in the shape of a rose. He felt familiar, but Owen wasn't sure where they had met before.

"I suppose you're wondering what's going on." The old man asked kindly. "Well the thing is, you're dead."

"Dead?" Owen wasn't surprised by the statement, it seemed perfectly reasonable given the agony he had been in moments before. "Is this Heaven then?"

"Unfortunately not young man. But this place doesn't really have a name as such." The old man sighed and sat down in the empty space. He motioned for Owen to do the same.

"So if I'm dead, does that make you God?" The boy asked, tentatively sitting on the air. He was surprised when it took his weight.

"Well it looks that way doesn't it? But I'm not God as you think of him." The old man scratched his nose thoughtfully. "I may have created everything, but I'm certainly not in control. I may give a helping hand every now and then, but it's nothing more than a placebo really. You people seem to love the idea that I'll descend from on high and solve your problems, but the difficulty with free will is that I can't do that."

"Then why are you speaking to me now?" Owen had never been religious, but he had always believed that there was something more out in the vastness of the universe.

"Because you, my boy, are special. Born in a world of chaos, raised in a world of order, you are a creature of two worlds. You are unique. The idea that a thing as weird and wonderful as you can find love is something that gives me great joy." God smiled again and clapped Owen on the back like a proud grandparent.

"Okay, I guess. But why is all of this happening? Werewolves and demons and magic-"




Council of Elders Ch. 06



"Oh my!" God laughed. He seemed to do nothing but laugh and smile, and it was impossible to reconcile this image with the wrathful God of the Bible. "You see the thing is: the world is stranger than you can imagine. A whole supernatural subculture exists right below your nose. Most people never see it, but some are lucky enough to glimpse it even for a fraction of a second."

"But where do I fit into this? What did you mean about me being 'born in a world of chaos'?"

"Well I could tell you, but I think it would be easier to show you." God clapped his hands together and a wash of colour flooded the landscape.

They were standing over a battlefield. Owen was struck dumb by the sheer violence of the scene. The fight was still raging below them with three clearly defined sides. On one corner of the triangle was a mass of black-clad people with swords over their backs. To their right was an army of men and women who looked like Fenris, tall, proud and strong. The final group was harder to make out clearly. There were far fewer of them, but their size made up for their lack of numbers.

"The golems of the desert were my first sentient creations on this world. I will always hold them dear to my heart, for they were the purest of all my works. They were massacred for trying to keep the peace between the werewolves and the vampires." It was clear that the war had been raging for a long time; the number of broken bodies that lay scattered over the land was a testament to that.

"I'm afraid not, young man. This was the conflict known as the 'Seven Day War'. It lasted a week, but in that time, millions were slaughtered. An entire race was wiped off the face of the Earth." Time flashed forward and Owen felt slightly disorientated.

"This is the last day of the war." Owen gasped as he saw the greatly reduced armies. There was only one golem left and despite the odds, he was fending off every attack that came his way. "Oberoth was the last and greatest of his kind, the most magically gifted individual I ever saw until your friend Fenris was born." Owen watched as the stone man blasted dozens of his enemies into dust with just a click of his fingers.

"Fenris can do that?" He asked with fear in his quavering voice. The gentle giant he knew could never be so callous.

"He could, if he wanted to. But the young werewolf is a much softer individual that the golem ever was. Oberoth grew cynical with age whereas Fenris' love of life would stop him from acting so cruelly. He is certainly capable of it however." God chuckled at the cross look in Owen's eyes. "I know you would never think ill of him, but there is darkness in his heart as there is in all people. He may torture the Daemon who attacked you as revenge."

Owen shuddered and looked back to the battle raging below him. He spotted something that made him tug at the old man's arm.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at a red void that had opened up in the sky.

"That, young man, is the reason you're currently dead." God blinked and suddenly they were standing by the void and watching as monsters poured out of it. He spotted a woman who looked just like the Daemon who had attacked him moments ago. The creatures descended on the battlefield, it was only Oberoth's voice that made the werewolves and vampires stop fighting. As one, they turned to face the mysterious enemy and braced themselves for the impact.

This next onslaught lasted for hours. The home team had the advantage, but they still suffered heavy losses. It was clear that while the enemies from beyond the portal were formidable, they had no concept of teamwork and were unconcerned with the safety of the other members of their group. Without warning, the remaining Daemons rose into the air and raced back to the void as fast as they could. Oberoth sent one final wave of magic after them, disintegrating dozens of fleeing monsters, and the void slammed shut with a noise like a thunderclap.

Owen watched in amazed silence as werewolf and vampire alike ceased battle and wept for the loss of their brethren. They were drawn together by the misery that had suffered and only afterwards realised that they had been fighting the wrong enemy all along. It was awful to behold and Owen felt tears fall from his own eyes as he watched them.

"That was the day that the Triumvirate was formed. One representative from the vampires and the werewolves as well as Oberoth." The old man was clearly affected by the bloodshed they had witnessed and Owen couldn't imagine what the pain of watching your children slaughtering each other must feel like. "Your friend Caesar was the general of the werewolf army. He was a fearless leader but he was one who detested war and all of its follies. The vampire general went into isolation after the war and his second in command was chosen to be the representative, though Malus was never the man his predecessor was. Oberoth was the last of his people and he bore the entire weight of his history upon his shoulders, but he was never one to shirk responsibility.

"Where is the vampire general now?" Owen asked curiously.

"They say that he went into hiding and swore never to feed from humans again. He was a good man, though he never saw it himself. He was born without the human compassion that I tried to instil in all of my children. But that never stopped him from wanted to feel empathy, to understand the emotions he had been born lacking." God smiled fondly at the memory of the impetuous young psychopath who had begged him for the power to love. 

"But you must know where he went. You're God, for god's sake."

"Indeed I am." God grinned and the scene suddenly shifted back to a white haze. "Now, you have a decision to make."

"Huh? I thought you said I was dead?" Owen was perplexed.

"You are dead, but that doesn't have to be the end of things. You could go back if you wanted to. Of course, there would be a few... changes to your appearance, but nothing drastic." God was being intentionally unhelpful at this point and Owen knew it.

"Okay. Send me back." Owen said simply.

"It's gonna hurt. But a little pain never stopped anyone did it?" The old man started to hum tunelessly and a patch of yellow light opened up behind Owen. The boy turned and was about to step through when he suddenly thought of something to ask the old man. He swivelled around with his mouth open and was about to voice his query when God gave him a hard shove and he spiralled into the yellow light.



Council of Elders Ch. 07



Apologies for my apparent case of dropped-off-the-face-of-the-Earth-itis.

I had a momentary attack of self-pity and then Christmas happened and then studying for exams happened, so I've been under the radar for a while. 

The fact that comments keep coming is a real boost to me and I'm finally back in action.

This thrilling instalment comes with a dedication to Mr. Waddie Greywolf, whose ideas were helpful in writing this chapter. Sorry that "any day now" became 5 months.

I'm now on Twitter. Feel free to twat me @BienClar

PS. Anyone who finds the correct version of Caesar's translation gets a character named after him or her in my next story. There are number of clues hidden within this chapter. Email me with your response and I'll either congratulate you or shatter your hopes and dreams. Only the first three people will win the prize so get researching. Thinking about it, this is ridiculously obscure and I would actually be surprised if someone got this, but I hope you prove me wrong. 

***

Owen hit the ground. Hard. At least it felt that way. In reality, he had simply been returned to his mortal body with more force than was technically necessary. The thwack was just an added bonus. He groaned, rolled onto his side and vomited. 

"Wonderful," he moaned, "just perfect."

After careful inspection of his own sick, he realised that the stuff was tar black and bubbling menacingly. There was a small animal, more like a snake than anything else that was squirming in the puddle. It cried out in what seemed like abject rage and pain then stopped moving abruptly, as though allergic to the air around it. Owen backed up quickly, but was suddenly jerked off his knees by a strong pair of arms wrapping themselves around his chest. He felt himself melting into the slightly furry embrace of his beloved captor. 

"You had me worried for a minute there." The deep voice rumbled, vibrating soothingly. "I thought you were dead. Don't ever make me think that again." The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, but at the same time it seemed to be inside him. He swivelled slowly and looked up into two blue eyes that shone like stars. They were, thankfully, imbedded in the face of a smiling man with rough stubble and a broad, lupine face.

Owen felt he was missing something. He groped himself briefly, reassuring himself that – yes – all his prized organs were still in place.

The young Daemon was really starting to worry that they had forgotten something. His memories were slowly pulling themselves together and a shape was forming in his mind. Just as the realisation hit him, so did the Widow. He was pushed onto his back as she barrelled into Fenris, knocking the giant werewolf over.

She had reverted to her wing form, probably to provide an advantage over the land-bound werewolf. She started rain fire down on the two, but Fenris flexed his palms and the air shimmered, deflecting the fire. He started blasting his own magical pot-shots into the sky, but none of them collided successfully. Owen was hurled away roughly and landed face down in the bushes, his face red.

"What the fuck Fen?" He cried, "You could have killed me." He had had quite enough brushes with his own mortality for one day.

Fenris' attacks finally struck the flying creature, knocking her out of the sky with a growl of triumph.

"You dare to attack that which is mine?" The feral giant roared at the agonised creature. "You dare to cross that walls that separate our worlds?" He spoke in a voice tinged with power that threatened to tear the Daemon apart merely from the unrelenting force of his words. Indeed, it seemed as though strips of the monster's flesh were being torn away as it cowered beneath the werewolf.

"P-please!" The Widow begged, her voice cracking in fear. "Spare me! None shall cross again, I swear it."

"Your pleas mean nothing foul creature." Caesar crooned at the dying Daemon, a twisted mockery of joy on his lupine face. "The moment you crossed, you were doomed. The moment you struck the Vessel, you were damned."

"But perhaps if she can guarantee it..." Fenris began, his tone retaining the inestimable rage it held before even as he turned his head.

"She would say anything to save her skin; she does not have the power to prevent the others even if she were telling the truth. Besides, with the Vessel dead no more will be able to cross after she is silenced." Owen realised that, given what he had been told, he must be the Vessel they were referring to so bitterly. He remembered what the old man had said to him about the other worlds that coexisted with this one, finally understanding what he had been saying.

Owen staggered to his feet and he dragged himself over to the three even as his body screamed. He had to make them stop. Stop the werewolves from killing the Widow. If he saw Fenris strike the final blow he would never be able to forget the image no matter how hard he tried. There was something about his movements that felt odd, he seemed to feel much more graceful as he planted one foot in front of the other.

"STOP!" He cried and three faces turned to stare at him as he collapsed on his side. "Don't kill her!" He rose again and forced himself to move towards the trio. Sensing the momentary confusion of her enemy, the Widow slashed at Fenris' torso and he was forced to jump back to escape the jagged points. She leapt into the sky once more.

The Widow changed tactics, throwing spears of darkness that she conjured from her hands. None of them landed on Fenris, but they fenced him in. Before Owen could shout a warning, the ring of spears was struck by bolts of lightning and a dome formed that stopped Fenris from moving. He tried blasting the dome away but the magic was deflected back at him, rebounding within the confines of the trap.

"With your protector immobilised, there's nothing left to stop me." The Widow advanced, her face caked in blood but with a deranged grin etched across it. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks, a confused look on her face. "Impossible... No, it's impossible. When the binding is complete, nothing can reverse it. You shouldn't be able to..."

She cast her eyes heavenward and screamed. "You aren't supposed to interfere!" 

A familiar presence, like the touch of an old friend, settled over Owen and he knew what he had to do. He placed one hand on the ground and one over his heart. The instructions were fixed in his mind, though he didn't know where they were coming from. He reached into the crackling earth beneath him and drew out a single black arrow, tipped with a ruby head. He cast the symbols in his mind and used the arrow to cut his skin and draw bloody runes on his bare arms that danced and shifted as he watched. He wasn't entirely sure what they meant, but at the same time, he knew it was a way to help Fenris. 

The blood-ink sank into the skin, etched onto the surface. A momentary knife of pain coursed through him and then as he watched the skin darkened to black, the fingers stretched and sharpened into furious talons.

With a bellowing roar, he charged forward and sank his new, terrible teeth, into the neck of the stunned Widow. Fenris watched him attack, filled with dread and awe at the power his lover possessed.

"You will NEVER hurt the ones I love again!" He placed his claws over her stomach and in one swift movement sundered her body in two, slicing the spine with the ferocity of his strike. 

Her severed ends began to merge together even as soon as he had thrown them apart. At the moment of joining, she tried to scramble away but he roared and she was blown off her feet. She morphed into the spider-monster in a last ditch attempt to escape but the balance of her legs was wrong and she sprawled onto the ground once more.

The Widow struck out desperately with a barbed claw, but the blow was met by a solid wall that hung invisibly between her and Owen. A high note rang out at the contact and the Widow moaned as though the noise were harming her. The Owen-creature spoke again and small symbols tumbled from its mouth, hanging in the air before spinning in circles around the Widow's head, forming a blazing arc that tightened and tightened until it touched her skin. At the point of contact, black scales became white feathers that fluttered in the breeze. The Widow screamed again, but as the transformation racked her body, she began to quiet. 

***

"Return to the arms of your Creator. Your pilgrimage is over." Caesar intoned as he realised what was happening. He knew in that moment that the creature was indeed still Owen.

Fenris could feel the power radiating from the monster, and he stepped forward to touch its skin, but the same wall that protected it from the Widow stopped his large fingers from making contact. Its head turned slightly towards him but there was no apparent recognition. The beast focused on the Widow once more as her extra legs changed to luminescent white feathers and her many eyes drew together into a single pair that shone like a rainbow. The damage to her body was slowly undone as she reached out a delicate hand to stroke the Owen-creature's face.

"I am sorry for my actions." She intoned in a light voice as she stared into Owen's eyes. "My mind was clouded with anger. But now I see. I see that Balance is the only way. My soul is now purified Brother. Please send me on."

New symbols coursed through the air from Owen's mouth, forming a patch of yellow light. The Widow walked forward on trembling legs, though her face was void of fear or anxiety. She turned to Fenris with a smile on her beautiful face.

"Love is the flower whose blossom never withers." She said as she stepped through into the light. "Remember this always and the answer will come." With that, she vanished from view, though a light giggle was left dancing in the air behind her.

When she was gone, Owen turned on Fenris, his body still transformed, his claws and teeth bloody and sharp.

"Look out!" cried Caesar and Fenris managed to move just in time to avoid the swipe at his throat.

"Bloody hell! I thought we'd already done this bit!" The seal placed on Owen was still there, glowing yellow and pulsating worryingly. 

It became clear after a few minutes of dodging and parrying that this Daemon-Owen was incapable of using magic due to the effects of Fenris' seal. Using this as an advantage, Fenris blew the Daemon of its feet with a powerful gust of wind and bent over to catch his breath. 

"Caesar, what can we do?" he asked plaintively. He couldn't bear the thought of killing Owen when he had only just got him back. The slim boy was now turned into this monstrosity before him and there was nothing he could think of to help.

"Ummmm.... uhhhhh....." Caesar seemed to be putting off telling the younger werewolf, as though his reply would be distasteful.

"Hurry up! I can't keep him pinned forever!" 

"Well the thing is... You know when Hunter werewolves take a mate... And they uhhhhh... make love."

"You're shitting me right?" There was not a hope in hell of that happening. 

"Nope. That's the only way to ensure that he becomes yours forever. The only way to secure the seal for the rest of time. I'm not sure what the effects of the mating will be on a non-werewolf, but it should all be fine."

That was a lot of variables, but apparently, he had no choice.

Fenris got down on all fours and concentrated, try to avoid the agony of the change to stop at the exact precise moment he needed to. The unique gift of the Hunters, aside from prodigious strength and speed, was the ability to stop their transformation part-way through and become what was known as a Draugr. A creature with a human mind and a werewolf's strength.

Standing eight feet tall, the Draugr Fenris was an intimidating sight and as he bore down on the Daemon, it seemed to cower. At this point, the reader may be wondering why Fenris didn't just turn into a Draugr and defeat the Widow in one attack. The answer to that is as follows: despite having the mind of a human, that mind is fairly one-track.

"Oh bloody hell!" cried Caesar as he watched the Draugr approach the Daemon, licking its lips as it stared at the firm figure that lay before it. Despite the horrific change to its appearance the Daemon was still objectively attractive with strong muscles and a steely jaw line, but the main thing that drew the lumbering Draugr towards it was that it still smelled of Owen.

The Draugr sank down in front of the Daemon and rolled over to expose its belly. Caesar facepalmed and turned his back on the pair of them, although with a direct link to Fenris' mind he could still tell what was going on behind him. He should have guessed that the giant macho werewolf would be a bottom, should have known it all along.

Fenris still had the body of a man, though it seemed to have been stretched proportionally in each direction and was now covered in short fur that covered every inch of his body apart from the weighty cock now laying against his belly. He whined and moaned, begging the Daemon to lay down with him, to mount him , to claim him.

It obliged, forced by the seal on its chest. It thrust in in one harsh motion that drew a cry of exultation from the Draugr Fenris. The piercing assault seemed to affect the Daemon as well for it raked Fenris' back with claws that seemed to be receding.

In fact, the Daemon's whole body seemed to shrink until it was the same size as Owen had been. As the Daemon's midnight black dick punched in and out of Fenris' abused hole, the horns on its head fell away and disintegrated to dust that blew in the wind. The sharpened talons turned pink and soft, the mouth full of gnashing teeth becoming soft and ruby-lipped. 

As Owen began to emerge from the Daemon's form, so too did Fenris revert to his natural state. Still mid-fuck, Owen's body became entirely his own and he grabbed onto Fenris' rock hard cock and began to stroke it, feeling the iron velvet beneath his hands and continuing to spear his lover with his dick.

Fenris had diminished to his normal height and with it regained his senses and batted Owen's away so that he could reach up and kiss him as they fucked face to face. Owen's moans were complemented by Fenris' as the fire that burned between them grew stronger.

The grass they lay on became scorched as Fenris' magic began to leak out into the surroundings, the ardour of his lust given form by the power in his core.

As Owen continued to rub ceaselessly against his prostate, Fenris groaned and with one last thrust came in a fluid arc that splattered against Owen's soft chest. The contractions within Fenris' hole became too much and the friction drove Owen over the edge too. They both collapsed, exhausted and totally at ease.

***

Apollo was furious. It didn't happen often; in fact, it had only occurred once in the last three hundred years. His spies had just informed him of the Council's decision to barricade themselves behind a shield of magic, but he hadn't believed it until he had seen the dome with his own eyes. The vampire was firing spell after spell at the enchanted wall, but not even a dent. He could no longer smell the sulphurous tinge in the atmosphere that indicated the presence of the toxic Chaos, which meant that there was no reason to maintain the shield. But it was impossible without two other sources of magic to form the new Triumvirate.

A snivelling acolyte waddled up to him and started to form words, but Apollo cut him off with a decisive click of his fingers, sealing off the insignificant whelp's air supply. He left the tunnel, leaving the suffocating insect to clutch at its throat. It was Apollo's curse to be surrounded by relative mediocrity, he knew, but this was just too much to handle. He called for Lycia, his second in command, to approach. The copper-haired vampiress swept forward and knelt before her lord. He rolled his eyes at her pathetic display but didn't say anything. He coughed and she rose again.

"M'lord, it would seem that another source of energy has been detected. Until recently it was two energy signatures, but one of them has disappeared."

"Species?"

"One was certainly lupine in origin, but the other is stumping our scientists."

"How recently?"

"Literally moments ago. It appeared for the briefest of moments and nearly broke our measuring equipment, then vanished."

"Do you know why? Is it the same type of power detected earlier?"

"No to both counts M'lord, but-"

Jesus Christ! He had come out of hiding specifically for the purpose of pooling resources, but it seemed as though there was nothing to be gained from working with the others of his kind. He had felt the two power sources for the past week or so, sensed them drawing ever closer together until they had collided. Neither had diminished in intensity until mere hours ago when one had simply winked out like a broken bulb. 

Apollo began to walk past the vampiress, ignoring her confused expression. It was so typical of these modern vampires, all talk and no action. In his day, they had been ferocious killers who had almost driven the humans and werewolves to extinction, but now they were disorganised and lazy. He had a mind to take each rotten one and gut them like a fish, just as he had during the war. But he remembered that times had changed, he was now the last of the older generation and all that remained were watered down versions of his noble ancestors.

Apollo closed his eyes and shifted. The spatial magic sent him flying through the air and he landed with a clang on a vinyl floor. Damn! He was so unused to using his magic that even shifting was becoming difficult. It was a shame that such powerful magic was now beyond the capabilities of all of his modern descendants, but instantaneous relocation was a skill that few had managed even in his own day. He looked around him with keen interest as he stood up and brushed the accumulated dirt off his black leather attire.

It seemed that he was in a bathroom, judging from the smell of urine and disinfectant at least, but beyond that, he had no real idea of his position. A new scent of sizzling bacon started to waft under the door to the lavatory. His canines elongated with pleasure at the smell, but he quickly retracted them as he stepped out. He was assaulted by a plethora of aromas as he set foot in what appeared to be a public house of some kind. There was a kitchen area that seemed to serve balls of paper or small cardboard boxes, but the smell made Apollo think of the local butcher of the small village he grew up in as a child. The air was filled with the sounds of life, life that he had been kept away from for so many years. There were crying children, yelling mothers, bored fathers and dour-looking teenagers that sulked in corners. It was nice to see that, despite the passage of centuries, some things never changed. His forked tongue flicked out, as he tasted the air.

The energy source was very close by; he could almost feel the waves of power. The night air was cold as he stepped out from the restaurant, but the cool had no effect on his deathly pale skin. He stepped forward into the road that ran past the restaurant and a car swerved to avoid him. An angry voice yelled at him but he paid it no mind. Instead, he took another step, this time wary of the approaching cars, and crossed to the other side. His nose twitched as he drew even closer to the Lycanthropic energy source.

***

'I wonder what his problem is?' thought Owen as he scratched behind one ear.

There was a slim young man staring through the windshield of the car that Fenris, with a little instruction from Caesar, had hotwired. He was smiling in a way that made you think he hadn't done it for some time. He couldn't have been more than thirty and he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, but he exuded a kind of aloofness that made him seem much older than his appearance suggested.




Council of Elders Ch. 07



Fenris was too busy choking down his third double-cheeseburger to notice the stranger, but Caesar's eyes were wide open in terror. This alone made Owen very anxious.

"Fuck!" Caesar gasped. "Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck!"

Evidently the person outside was not someone he wanted to see. Fenris heard Caesar and turned to look into the face of the stranger. Fenris did not react at all, which if anything made Owen more nervous than if some flash of horrified recognition had appeared.

"Uh... sorry to bothering you." The man started in broken English, muffled by the windscreen. "I am having been lost – yes?" Caesar seemed to remember that he couldn't be seen and sagged in relief. The man smiled vacantly and tapped on the glass of the car door window, signalling for Fenris to wind it down so they could speak.

"Don't let your guard down for a second. He's a vampire; don't be fooled by the whole exotic foreigner routine. He's killed thousands of werewolves in his time, and he may take the opportunity to wipe out one more." Caesar whispered this, even though he knew he couldn't be heard. He wouldn't put it past this particular vampire to overhear his very thoughts if they were too loud.

"Can I help you?" Fenris' expression did nothing to convey any depth of emotion, but Owen could sense the tension in his body.

"I am lost very much and I am thankings for you to help me? What is place of nearest sleep?" The man projected an air of blandly pleasant ineptitude, a disguise that seemed carefully crafted by years of practice. This, combined with formidable good looks, made him a very successful predator.

"Well... the nearest hotel is about a quarter-mile that way." Fenris pointed what he vaguely assumed was north, though in fact he had no idea where he was pointing.

"You could am driving me?" The vampire gazed deeply into Fenris' eyes, employing the mesmerising stare that made such easy prey of werewolves.

"Uh... sure, why not?" Caesar was frantically waving his arms to prevent this from happening, but the vampire slid gracefully into the back seat next to where Owen was huddled beneath a coat.

Content that he was no longer in need of a disguise; the vampire drew an emerald-hilted dagger from his sleeve and laid it flat against Fenris' neck.

"Drive." The command seemed to echo in the confines of the car, and Fenris pulled away from the curb as instructed.

***

The drive took a lot longer than it would have taken for them to reach the hotel. Instead, the car was bombing down the M4 at 70mph. Owen was still hopelessly trapped and he couldn't work out a way to communicate that wouldn't let the vampire know what he was saying. 

He couldn't communicate with either Fenris or Caesar, but he was desperately trying to. When he was certain that it wouldn't work, he turned his attention to the vampire. He reached out with his mind and tentatively poked at the vampire's mental defences. Surprised with the ease with which he could walk the line of the vampire's mind, he shoved a little harder.

The car swerved dangerously as Apollo lost control of Fenris' mind. It was hard enough to keep the boy under wraps as it was; only his excessive age and skill was keeping the boy's mind at bay. Whatever had just attempted to breach his defences had to be nearby. He scanned around the car, but there was only himself, Fenris and that shapeless overcoat. He must have just been imagining things. Just to be sure, he tasted the air with his tongue. Nope. Nothing there.

Owen had taken note of the reaction to his probe and very carefully reached out again. His mind was close enough to touch the vampire's and as though he had been taught how to do it and had been practising all of his life, he struck out. The whipcord of energy that smashed into Apollo's mind was almost too painful to bear. He lost total domination of Fenris who, suddenly finding himself awake and driving a car, promptly ran the vehicle off the road.

The squeal of the tyres as they went 'off piste' sent a further lance of confusion into the vehicles passengers. Owen braced for the impact and felt his body change form again.

***

"Fucking HELL!" cried Caesar as he observed the wreckage. Part of the benefit of having no physical presence was being able to simply drift through the fabric of the car at will. Did that counteract never having a rare steak again? No. But it was cool all the same. 'Cool?' He thought. 'Damn, these youngsters are a bad influence on me.'

It was quite impressive that the humans could build something that burst into flames so readily, but the smoke creeping out from under the hood looked exceptionally dangerous. Cursing his luck, he lay down on the prone form of Fenris and, after sliding into the young werewolf's body, did a soft reset of his consciousness.

Fenris shot up in a fairly over-dramatic fashion and began to breathe heavily. He'd always wanted to flip a car, though the effect was spoiled somewhat by the throbbing pain in his skull. He stood up and searched for his lover's body, but when all he could see was an empty overcoat and the small pile of torn clothes that Owen had been relieved of by his transformation, he began to be concerned.

As though sensing the worry, Owen descended into Fenris' arms from above, his shadowy wings dissipating into the air as he landed. 

"Don't worry." He cooed. The affectionate comment was somehow marred by the scratchy rasp that made it audible, but Fenris blushed all the same, his tanned skin becoming cutely splotchy rather than evenly rouge. "I'm not going anywhere unless you're there too."

They snuggled a little, ignoring the burning car debris that smoked in front of them. A tiny idyll away from the insanity of the world. Again, Owen's brand spanking new talons dug into Fenris' arms and somewhat ruined the moment, but Fenris didn't care one bit.

They were brought out of their personal paradise by a high, cold voice. 

"How romantic. I'm positively touched." Sarcasm may be the lowest form of wit, but it's still wit and the vampire Apollo had literally had millennia to nail it. 

Fenris snarled and bared his teeth at the vampire. Owen's new body seemed incapable of exhibiting his mood so to observers he seemed unfazed by the vampire's approach.

"Down boy. I'm not here to make trouble, heavens no." The patronising tone was incredibly irritating, but as neither Owen not Fenris felt like fighting at the moment, they swallowed their ire.

"Then why did you attempt to kidnap us?" Owen had some sixth sense that told him that the vampire wasn't lying about hurting them, although the spirit of Caesar was still quaking in fear. Apollo flinched imperceptibly at the voice that uttered the words, but Owen's new eyes could see every twitch. 

"That was merely to ensure that you didn't say no to my request in a public place. I had every intention of releasing you from my power when we were far enough away from civilisation." He looked around briefly. "Now that I think about it, this seems like a perfect place for a little rendezvous."

He scratched his chin. "Speaking of, how on earth did you manage to break free? I'm very, very strong and very, very old, and no one's ever done it before, so I'm genuinely intrigued with how you did it."

Fenris pulled Owen tighter, a dual display of pride and protectiveness that the vampire saw straight away.

"Oh my, how touching. The big bad wolf wants to save the nasty Daemon. But you're not one of them, are you." It wasn't a question. "I can smell them. I can smell dog-breath over there. But-" His forked tongue tasted the air again. "I just can't get a whiff of eau de Daemon."

Owen was as surprised as Apollo, but it didn't register on his emotionless face. Instead, he asked, "So what am I?"

"That answer, only the Creator knows. I suppose that if we prodded and poked you enough times with some scientific equipment we might learn your true nature, but something tells me that fur-brain over yonder might complain.

"Do you have to call me that?" Asked Fenris, visibly pissed off at the insults.

"Yes." Apollo answered, simply.

He grinned then bowed gracefully. "On behalf of the Triumvirate of Blood, the High Council of Elders and the Denizens of the Supernatural World, I hereby congratulate you for your defeat of the Chaos. As reward for your heroic deeds, I have a... business proposition for you."

***

'Why on Earth did I agree to this?' Fenris asked himself when he was strapped into the Rome-bound chopper.

'I'll tell you why,' answered Caesar. 'You did it to protect him. You did it so that you would no longer have to run.'

'But we could take on anyone who wanted to stop us. There's no limit to our combined strength.' The younger werewolf mused. He had changed Owen back into his human form with a kiss and he was thankful that they wouldn't need to fuck every single time because his arse was incredibly sore from just the one occasion.

'Eventually he would tire of battle. He would grow to resent you and the life you would be forced to live. Humans do not love as we love. They are fickle. "Gods weep at changing winds" and all that jazz.' 

'That is an awful translation coming from someone who lived back then, but I get the point." Fenris laughed, but then seemed to shrink in his seat. "I can't feel his thoughts anymore and it scares me.'

'That's a good thing. Reading minds is invasive to the point of torture and there's no guarantee that what you hear will make you feel better.'

'But I love him. I need him.'

'Yes. And the terrible truth is that you probably always will. That is part of the curse of life mating and having such longevity as a species.'

'He won't leave me. Not ever. He feels the same way as I do.'

'You don't know that for sure my boy. This could just be a fling to him. It could be, but something tells me that you're not wrong about him. He is... different from any mortal I've met before.'

Fenris turned to Caesar and smiled, the lines around his eyes belying the mirth in his face. It had been a difficult decision, but he honestly believed that it had been the right one. This way there would be nothing to keep them apart.

***

"There's no reason to look so glum." Apollo said as he and Owen sat side by side in the other helicopter. "That mutt must love you dearly to give up his freedom for you."

"Shut up!" Owen growled, his teeth bared angrily. He was incredibly frustrated with the entire business. "Just shut up! If you hadn't come along and attacked us then we could have been happy by now."

Instead, they were flying through the sky towards the very people who had ordered his death so many years ago. Apollo had filled him in on the whole story about his birth, the parts that his parents hadn't known.

Owen had tried to be angry with Caesar, but given the destruction that he had caused whilst under the control of the Beast he had to accept that on balance it was the right decision to make.

"So tell me again how you two met..." Apollo began, smiling broadly.

"Why on Earth do you need to know that?" Owen was disturbed by the fascination that his relationship with Fenris seemed to cause in the ancient vampire.

"I like to learn about love. Having never had it myself I have to get my kicks vicariously."

Owen was taken aback by this. "But... you're thousands of years old. How have you never been in a relationship with someone?"

"Oh I've been in plenty of relationships. But I don't have it in me to love." Owen blinked and remembered what the old man had told him about the vampire general who had gone into hiding to stop himself from hurting others.

"So you're the one who waged war on the werewolves and golems!" Apollo looked at him, mildly surprised. 

"Where did you hear that? I doubt even your tail-wagging friend knows that particular bit of history. It was removed from the records specifically to prevent panic about the Chaos." Apollo wasn't angry, just curious.

"I must have picked it up somewhere. I don't know, maybe the Daemon knew about it and it just transferred to me." Something told Owen that telling the vampire about his brief stint in the afterlife would be a bad idea. 

But years of experience had taught Apollo how to spot a lie when it was being paraded under his nose and he wasn't fooled.

"Really? I suppose that makes sense." Owen sighed in relief. "Of course, what would make more sense is that Caesar's ghost told you."

Owen spluttered in shock at the revelation that Apollo knew Caesar was there. 

"Don't worry boy, you didn't give it away. I felt him, briefly, when I attacked your lover's mind in the car. Sloppy really." Apollo smiled benignly and awaited a response from Owen. When it didn't come, he continued. "You should be proud of your little stray, he fought me tooth and nail, but in the end my personal experience in invading the minds of others was superior to his brute power."

Owen clenched his fists again at the continued comments about Fenris' lineage. But as he was, there was nothing he could do to punish the vampire. Without Fenris' permission, he could not become the beast again and without Fenris to stop him, he could do more harm than good. He decided to sit in silence as they flew closer and closer to the Vatican City.