16 comments/ 46469 views/ 21 favorites Wolf's Bane By: Dshannon (Author's Note: I have endeavoured to make this story as readable as possible without people having to know or read the previous Wolf stories on Literotica. However, feel free to go back and read the others. And if you want, leave some feedback too, it's greatly appreciated...) * The room was cold, bare, windowless, uncompromising: perfect for interrogation. An unshaded bulb hung from the ceiling, struggling and failing to cast away the bleak shadows in the corners, and the furnishings consisted of a simple metal table and a simple metal chair, both bolted to the floor. The heavy iron door behind the chair had locked with a unnerving sound of finality as it closed shut, leaving the air in the room stale and fetid, and the single inhabitant of the room alone with her thoughts. She was a woman in her early thirties, with long, shoulder-length chestnut hair and matching eyes that stared forward, as if genuinely interested in the random cracks in the brick wall opposite her. She sat in the chair, her wrists bound by leather straps to the arms of it, her ankles bound in identical fashion to the front legs of it. She swallowed, long past panic, more accepting that her current predicament wasn't some terrible nightmare, that it was painfully real. A shiver ran through her, uncontrollable. Upon her arrival at... wherever she was... her captors had removed the hood and cuffs they'd put on her, and made her strip out of her own clothes, in favour of a thin pair of baggy white flannel trousers with a drawstring at the waist, and a loose top barely held together by a few buttons, with no underwear or footwear provided. Her nipples had peaked from the cold to an almost painful degree, and she had to struggle to keep her feet from touching the stone floor. But the effort to do that was nothing compared with the last handful of hours. She was exhausted, hungry, afraid, and needed to use the toilet – but she knew that she would not soon receive relief for any of these things. Behind her, the door opened, but she continued to stare straight ahead, waited and watched as a nondescript young woman in a pressed olive-drab uniform and skirt carried in and deposited a chair on the other side of the table, before departing, never acknowledging the room's occupant. Another moment, and another uniformed person, a man this time, guided in a metal trolley with squeaky wheels, leaving it at her side. Now she glanced at it; the top shelf held a tray with a number of syringes and bottles. The woman started as the man undid the buttons on her shirt and opened it up, exposing her, a little. But he made no comment, didn't molest her, showed no emotion in fact, leaving her like that. She kept silent, however, having already been struck in the back twice with a nightstick for speaking. Now someone else stepped into the room, striding purposefully around to take the seat opposite her, setting out a sheath of papers in front of him. He was a big, broad-shouldered man in his late forties, with an elephantine girth, and a moon face whose lunar resemblance was accentuated by the craters and pockmarks upon it. He wore a creased and crumpled olive-drab uniform like the others, but with more decorations on the epaulettes and the chest, and it looked to be a size too big for him once he sat down. Jowly flesh hung over the high collar, and he removed his peaked cap and set it beside his papers, revealing a shock of greasy black hair. She had long since lost track of the time, but he looked like he'd been woken up and brought here to deal with her, and wasn't at all pleased about it. Not that she thought her situation here could get much worse. Now he looked up at her, sniffing distastefully from his pug nose, his English faltering but functional. "My name is Major Piotr Roshenko of the Glavnoe Razvedyvatel'noe Upravlenie. As you are not Russian, that will mean nothing to you, but we deal with matters of military intelligence." He turned over a page, frowned at some details, then continued. "The normal procedure at this stage is to let the prisoner lie as much and as elaborately as they want, let them get it all out of their system, let them think they are convincing us. Then we begin to grind away all the lies in the crucible we provide here, grind them away until all that remains is the pure, unadulterated truth. However, my superiors are expecting a preliminary report today, and my head hurts. So let's skip past any lies you might wish to weave. You are Samantha Brennan, a British citizen and member of an eco-terrorist group called World Wolf Watch-" She blinked. "We are not-" "-And you are involved in the deaths of several members of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation, and of a civilian team in its employ." Her mouth was dry. "I want- I want to speak to the British Consulate-" "That will not be possible. You now reside in the Aryekhi, a facility that is part of my country's contribution to the Global War on Terror. Unlike the Americans and their Cuban camp, however, we are more successful at hiding its existence, and its inhabitants, from the outside. In fact, only three people in the world know your identity and that you're here, and they're all in this room." "Then when- when will I be released?" Roshenko leaned forward, thick stubby fingers pressing into the tabletop. "Miss Brennan, I must be honest with you. You will not leave here alive. Nor will you die anytime soon. And your life here will never be easy, certainly not as easy as you might have known it. But there are many ways to live here, and your co-operation can ensure you live in a way that is not too unpleasant." He looked up to the aide near Sam, and nodded. She watched as the aide readied a syringe. "I'm not- I'm not a terrorist." "Truth or not, Miss Brennan, that declaration will not spare you." Now she went silent, tried not to flinch as the aide drew back her shirt even further, baring her left breast, shoulder and upper arm completely. She watched her skin prickle from the cold and fear as the aide rubbed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on her bicep, then injected her with an amber-coloured fluid. She looked back at Roshenko. "What- what's that?" "It's called diosethanine, a new mixture provided by the Americans, though I suspect we are being used as guinea pigs. Unlike previous truth drugs, it also suppresses the creative centres of the brain as it dampens inhibitions, proving more efficacious in helping the subject provide the unadulterated truth, as opposed to some bastard mixture of fact and fiction." "You can't do this to me! I have rights!" He regarded her, then rose from his seat and walked around to her. Resting his ample rear against the table, he looked down at her, reached out and stroked her hair, ignoring her attempt to pull away. His hand dropped to her breast, idly played with the nipple. Then he dipped down further, beneath the waistband of her trousers, touched her bush, her labia, his expression to his casual violation of her body insouciant. Closer now, he murmured in her ear, "I have no patience to indulge your denial of your position here." He took some skin between thumb and forefinger and twisted until she winced. "Do you think you can get past that to an acceptance? Or shall we move you into a cell for half an hour with the rapists?" Fighting back the pain and humiliation, she shook her head. "I- I accept..." "Good." He removed his hand, wiping his fingers on the sides of his trousers as he returned to his seat, as if nothing had just happened. His stubby fingers now sought out each other, embraced as he folded his hands before him. "You will soon start to feel relaxed, more receptive." A shudder ran through her, and her chest ached, as if she wanted to hyperventilate but was being prevented, smothered. "P-Please cover me up." "No." "I've- I've done nothing wrong..." "Miss Brennan, I have seen the aerial pictures of Tsyerkovolk. It looks like it was devastated by a tactical nuclear device, with no traces of radiation or chemical explosives. You were the only survivor." She knew that already, shaking her head; it felt thick, as if she had a cold. She wanted to cry, but felt too numb, and not from the drugs or the fatigue. Her spirit had been ripped from her, ripped from her and cast into the darkness, never to be found again. Like her body, in this place, with only an interrogator for company. "You mentioned a name when you were first arrested: Fenris. What is this, an organisation? A code?" For the first time in a long time, Sam wanted to tell a stranger. Tell him everything. Maybe because it didn't matter anymore. "A name." "Who is it? An associate?" She glanced down, staring blankly at nothing. "A lover." "Indeed. And where is this man?" "I never said he was a man." She raised her head again, wishing she could cry. "And he's dead." * The Corinthia Nevskij Palace Hotel was one of the newer five star hotels in the heart of Saint Petersburg, Russia's "Northern Capital", the result of the renovation of two historic 19th century buildings on the city's main boulevard, Nevsky Prospect, retaining its classic facade, but reshaping the interior into a fine blend of concentric lights, gleaming brass fittings, curved glass ceilings and sumptuous galleries. For Samantha Brennan, who had spent the previous several months of her life seven hundred kilometres south in the wilds of Belarus, this felt like Paradise – even the awful vol-au-vants and snacks on the tables now lining the conference room. And all she had to do was give a lecture at the International Wildlife Symposium on behalf of her organisation, and look pretty enough to attract the monetary interest of those among the sea of tuxedos and suits, Russia's biznesmeny, who were looking to practice conspicuous consumption on an extravagant scale, driving flashy Western cars, sporting expensive clothing and jewellery, and frequenting stylish restaurants and clubs that are far beyond the reach of ordinary Russians. Of course, she missed Mikhail, but he no longer needed her help- Samantha... Sam pushed aside the thought that slipped into her mind like a hand around her waist. She moved a little uneasily in her new imported black gown, an elegant number with three-quarter length sleeves and a V-neck that provided more cleavage than she had displayed in a long time. She had never been one for glamour, and she felt as unsteady in things like this as she was in her new high heels. But she recognised that she was an asset to the World Wolf Watch, and was not ashamed of schmoozing or trading on her looks to help achieve her ends. Samantha... Beloved... She sighed, ignoring it and smiling as someone walked up to congratulate her on the talk she'd given that morning. She nodded and remained affable – but the voice in her head remained insistent. Samantha, come away from these people... Then came the breath on her neck, and she gasped aloud, blaming the air vents overhead for her reaction. Stop it, now! I'm busy! And I'm hungry. Then go catch an elk or rabbit, or whatever animals exist where you are. You're more appetising. Fuck off now... But his words touched her deeper than she would admit, even to herself, and certainly not to the tall, thin man before her whose English was so broken as to be irreparable. Sam started again when she felt the brush of fur against her leg, resisted the urge to glance down, knowing that there'd be nothing there. At least, nothing that could be seen. Then something pressed against her rear. To hell with schmoozing... "Izvinichye," she said to the man, excusing herself and departing from the room as quickly as she could without attracting too much attention. The party had not long started, but she was damned if she could get any work done while her lover had the horn. She had an obligation to him, to his needs and desires and- And yes, she had the horn as well. In the lift, she felt the hot breath, the scent of him filling the enclosed space, and her hands moved down the front of her body, as if he was fully present, trying to make his way under her dress. Stop it, you bastard, this dress was expensive! She looked around her, at her reflections in the mirrors on the lift walls, saw her flushed skin and full lips. God, she looked like she had just been fucked, let alone about to be fucked- Then she straightened up as the lift stopped and the doors opened, allowing an elderly couple to enter. The man sniffed the air, spoke in German, the only word of it Sam recognised as being 'dog'. He glanced at Sam, as if she might have one concealed on her person, but she just shrugged. They departed, and the lift continued – downward. Sam frowned and pressed the button for her room on the sixth floor, but the lift continued down into the hotel's garage. "What the hell-" Ideal... She stared up at the lift's ceiling light, as if he resided there. "My room would be more comfortable." But there's no space to run in there... Now she shook her head, understanding as she stepped out of the lift, her voice echoing slightly. "There might be people down here!" There is no one. Summon me. Sam looked around anyway; she hadn't been down here before, not having any use for it, but it looked like most others she'd seen, cars stationed in groups of four in sectioned bays, with red and yellow pipes running overhead, and sliding metal doors hooked up to smoke alarms. It was also thankfully warm, a necessary requirement to keep the guests' expensive counterfeit Ferraris from suffering from the frost. Samantha, I want you... "I'll bet." It was public, the most public place they'd ever been together. If anyone came along... but then that was part of the spice of it all, wasn't it? She could refuse. He was silent, away by day, but at night was almost fully there, but she could still push him away, if she wanted. But she didn't want. She reached down and unzipped the side of her dress as high as it would go, then raised the hem up the rest of the way, up past her stockinged legs, until she reached her black satin knickers, slipping her thumbs beneath the tanga briefs and sliding them down. She stepped out of them, looked for a place to put them, then gave up and threw them to the floor near the lift doors, hoping to retrieve them before anyone else did. After a moment's thought, she slipped out of her shoes and sent them there as well. "You have no sense of the romantic, did you know that? No flowers, no chocolates-" Summon me now, and when I catch you, I might be merciful and leave you with some clothes intact. "You're too kind." She ignored the cold garage floor on her feet, her stockings offering no protection; she was a woman who had performed rituals naked in Scottish and Belarus forests in the dead of winter, and a few days of decadence had not softened her. She emptied her mind of distractions, focused on the image of her lover, on his form and sound and scent, as oft-spoken words quickly escaped her lips. "O Powerful Fenris, son of Loki and Angrboda, bound to the rock of Gioll, I, your consort, conjure thee on this night and at this hour here, to order firmed affairs with thee..." And as the ceiling lights flickered and cracked, and the air itself charged with electricity, she began running, feeling the air within the garage whip dust around her. Her feet pounding on the floor, the tails of her dress flying behind her, she turned a corner, never looking back, not needing to, knowing what would soon be appearing. Once, when she had first performed this ceremony, it required specific times and paraphernalia, required tremendous amounts of her own personal energy. But she had changed so much since those days, six years ago. But now was not the time for reminiscence. She moved through the shadows of the now-darkened garage, dodging in and around the parked cars, avoiding touching any of them in case they had alarms, and controlling the sound of her rapid breathing, so aware of being knickerless beneath her evening dress. It was inevitable that he would catch her, but that wasn't the point of the hunt. She heard the footfalls behind her, and she almost slowed down, almost gave in too soon, such was her desire for him upon her. But that would be cheating, and he would know. She winced as she stepped in what felt like an oil puddle, nearly skidding before catching herself. Now she looked back – and saw him, in his full glory: racing down the centre of the garage, a wolf the size of a bear, with pointed ears and a long muzzle on a huge head mounted on a thickly-muscled neck, its fur thick and ash with black waves, its teeth gleaming, its pointed ears swept back, and its blood-red eyes, slitted with black, fixed upon her. The claws on its massive paws made a noise on the garage floor. She waited, until he was almost upon her – then dodged him, running around the nearest car and glancing back to see him struggle to stop and turn, suppressing laughter as she started back the way she came, this time moving down along another part of the garage, her breasts aching within her dress as she ran, but still enjoying herself. It had been ages since she had last run with her lover, since she had last let him hunt her, and she felt giddy - and aroused- Her pursuer was upon her before she even realised it, crashing into her like a runaway bull – but careful to let his own body take the tumble, keeping her safe. Out of breath but laughing, uncaring now of how this could ruin her dress, Sam struggled with him, a playfight that she could never win, his scent overpowering to her. She felt his features shift beneath her, producing less lupine and more humanlike characteristics, ash-grey fur patched with black around his neck, at the joins of his wrists and ankles, at the base of his bushy tail, and dipping down his belly to collect around his shaft, long and thick and pink and pressing against her. Sam pressed her mouth against his chest, nipping at his furry flesh and making him growl with delight at her response. He nipped back as they fell into each other's arms, his own incredible strength kept in check. Yes, she thought, this was so much better than if they'd just returned to her room. I said as much, he gloated, his mouth suddenly clamping around her neck, his teeth sharp but careful not to pierce her skin. Now, will you submit? "Fuck off," she murmured, feeling so alive. His hand shot up under her dress, the base of his palm pressing against the pouch of her sex, feeling the wiry hairs of her bush, the heat of her pussy and the folds surrounding her clit. He massaged it, making her squirm like a worm on a hook. Submit to me... will you submit? Her heart pounding in her chest, mouth panting and sweat beading down between her breasts, Sam swallowed. "Y-Yes... Oh yes... Let- Let me..." He released his hold on her neck, but hovered close over her as if she might bolt, as she twisted in place, moving up onto all fours, reaching back behind her to lift up her dress and expose her rear to him. And as she submitted, she felt the familiar rise and thickening of his shaft between her upper thighs, a movement that never failed to increase her own arousal. And as Fenris mounted her from behind, gripping her hips, claws digging into the material of her dress, offering her short, rapid trusts into her pussy, she buried her face in her crossed arms and let herself surrender completely. "Miss Brennan?" * "Miss Brennan?" The stubby fingers clicking drew her back from her memories, and she blinked again, the warm, comforting feeling quickly replaced by the cold and bleakness of the here and now. The memories had been so vivid, and yet so distant and dreamlike – and now only reminded her of her loss. Wolf's Bane Sam pressed her naked breasts against him as they fucked, wanting to let their scents and fluids mingle, to keep this precious, amazing being so close to her, forever. But then he whispered in her mind, I love you, Samantha. The others meant nothing. And for Sam, the spell was broken. The reminder of where they were brought back her previous questions, her uncertainties. She stopped moving, waiting until he sensed her change of mood and stopped as well. What's wrong, Beloved? She pushed him out of her, aching at his withdrawal, and sat up on one elbow. "You never answered my question. Have you told any other woman you loved them?" Confusion, then impatience, crept into his thoughts now. Why does it matter? There have been none so close to me before you, Samantha. And there will be none so close, after you. He said it so plainly, as if it meant nothing. Sam, meanwhile, felt as if she'd been struck across the mouth. Now she sat up on the bed, ignoring the aches and pains in her muscles and pussy to glare at him. "'After me'? So you are thinking of abandoning me, too?" No! He leapt from the bed and paced around, clawed fingers curled into fists of frustration. You do not understand. "Don't I?" She rose to her feet, facing him, her blood boiling with anger and anguish. "You never answered my question. You told Alanya Malikovsky you loved her, didn't you? And that lasted until you got what you wanted from her!" Alanya? She is here? "Yes! Thinking of looking her up again and apologising for using her?" What? Why do women prattle on so about these things? "Or would that take more courage than you can muster?" Fenris leaned in closer, looming over her, his hot breath hitting her face as he growled, Do not think to judge me, woman! "What are you planning to still get from me, or have you got what you wanted already, and it's just about the fucking now? Fucking and bullshit about loving me-" Suddenly he shoved her backwards, pouncing on her as she hit the bed, pinning her down with his huge frame and inadvertently scratching her more harshly than he usually did with his claws. His teeth were bared. Do NOT dismiss what I have declared to you, and to you alone! And do NOT judge me on human terms! I am older, greater than you can know! Do you understand? Her heart pounding in her chest, her anger matched his. But it was now coupled with a fear she had not felt since the early days. She hit at him with her fists. "Get the fuck out of here! Now! And don't come back!" With pleasure! And then he was gone. * "A lover's tiff. It's comforting to know such things can occur even between a woman and her god." Sam felt like her head was filled with concrete, the second course of drugs taking effect in her system. She ignored his taunts. "We'd argued before, but I'd never seen him so angry. I tried to call him back and apologise right away. The enormity of what I'd said, the possibility that he might listen to me and never return, was suffocating me. But he didn't respond. Panicking, I changed and went to see Alanya in her quarters, told her everything, showed her my wounds. I was so glad to have her there, someone who understood and supported me..." * Sam sat on the side of Alanya's bed, next to the woman, resting her head against her shoulder as they embraced. "'I'm never going to see him again, am I?" "Nonsense." The older woman pulled back to wipe the tears from Sam's cheeks. She wore an elegant camisole that contrasted sharply with Sam's favoured baggy jogging trousers and vest. "Of course you will. Now, I have some salve for those cuts, a special mixture. May I?" "Yes. Thank you." Sam pulled her T-shirt up over her head, holding it in front of her as the older woman returned with a jar she opened. Alanya soothed the cream, with its rich, roseate fragrance, into Sam's back and shoulders, and began to massage the flesh, at first gently, then with increasing pressure, as Sam felt the cream's heat penetrating her aching muscles. She moaned, and Alanya smiled. "Better?" "Mmm, yes." "Good. Samantha, I'm sorry that I mentioned my connection with him." "No, don't be. I would have done the same." "But I made you doubt him, sparked the fight..." She paused, swallowed, and Sam could almost feel the embarrassment. "When I was with... well, I remember getting scratches, ah, below the belt, as it were." Sam nodded, feeling tired and agreeable. "Let me lie down." She lay face forward on the bed, burying her face into the pillow as she felt Alanya take the waistband of her jogging trousers and lower them past her rear to the tops of her knees. As someone who performed skyclad before others, it shouldn't matter, though nagging feelings lingered, perhaps because of their shared history with Fenris. Then the penetrating heat soothed and relaxed Sam's lower half. Alanya's touch was expert. "Did he- did he ask about me? Say anything?" When Sam turned her head to look up, Alanya added, "Never mind. My time with him has passed. Indeed, since Fenris I have never been able to conjure any entity with his power, just simple shadow creatures and apports. It is your turn with him. And you will get him back." "But if he refuses my summons-" "I've done with your back. How's your front?" Sam conceded a few scratches there as well, and pulled up her trousers again before turning around, setting aside her discarded shirt and relaxing. There were a few scratches on her chest, and Alanya was careful as she smoothed the salve into each breast, her voice lowering. "He might refuse from one witch, but two? Especially if they're his past and present consorts?" "A combined Summoning? Do you think that would work? I hope so, I really do." Sam's voice sounded distant, even to herself, and she felt both detached and linked to her body, her breasts, now aching, her nipples, now growing hard. She ignored it as an instinctive reaction – though remembering times when Fenris would lick and nuzzle them didn't help. "God, I sound pathetic." "No." Alanya's voice, her expression was emphatic, as she moved onto Sam's stomach, working in the salve. "Intelligent, strong, loving. Beautiful. He's a fool for treating you like this." Sam felt dizzy, and the bedroom almost stiflingly hot, and her senses focused on Alanya's hand, as it now slipped under the waistband of her trousers, through her bush, gently massaging her mound. "Beautiful," Alanya repeated in a hush. "I can feel your need, welled up, begging for release. I know that feeling too well. Let me..." Sam parted her thighs instinctively, offering easier access, feeling helpless. This was allowed, she assured herself. She'd been badly hurt, and needed the comforting touch of another, no matter their gender. Seconds later, such assurances were cast aside as unnecessary, as Alanya entered her throbbing sex, her fingers descending, creating a painful but pleasurable sensation as they slowly moved in and out, discovering the softness of the smooth velvet walls. Sam yielded to the touch, her body limp as if bound. She opened her eyes once when Alanya bent down and pressed her mouth against Sam's, invading it with her tongue. Then she closed her eyes again, relishing the sensations of Alanya's tongue caressing Sam's lips in a snake-like movement. Sam had never felt this way about another woman before, had come no closer to it than fending off the advances of some of the members of her first coven in England. Her attitudes had changed since then; being taken on a regular basis by a wolf spirit does wonders to expand one's viewpoint on acceptable sexual experiences. The woman's touch between her legs was no longer gentle, but Sam didn't mind. Already she could feel her arousal rolling, like an avalanche, ready to overwhelm her. The expert fingers teased and stroked the moist, supple outline of her sex, the thumb finding her stiffened bud of her swollen clitoris, massaging it, too and increasing the bliss exponentially. Sam sighed into the other girl's mouth and gave herself up to the rhythm, her climax growing, until it burst and overflowed from her. She moaned softly, unable to collapse despite the sheer bliss running through her now. She gripped the older woman, wondering if she should reciprocate, and how. However, it was Alanya who pulled back, rising to her feet and padding away, unable to face her. "Forgive me – that was totally inappropriate." Confused and aroused, and suddenly embarrassed, Sam slipped back into her T-shirt and followed, ignoring the warm afterglow from her sex. "Alanya, it's okay-" "No, it's not. Christ, I'm old enough to be your mother!" As Sam faced her again, the older woman seemed to withdraw further into herself. "After Fenris abandoned me, and I failed to summon him, or any others, I tried to find a suitable lover. A lover of flesh that would remain past dawn. But none could compare to him. And that's the trick! Once you've been taken by a god, how can you be satisfied by any man, or woman?" She looked back now, red with mortification. "You are beautiful. And you've been with him. I thought it would almost be like..." Then she checked herself. "I have embarrassed myself enough tonight, I think. Take my bed, I'll go to the one in the library." Sam felt like trash now. "Alanya, it's your room, you can stay. I'll go." The Russian moved to the bedroom door. "Sleep. Tomorrow night, I promise you, you will be reunited with your lover." She offered a final smile. "And maybe, I might have the chance to see him, talk to him again?" * "So, did you have sex with Professor Malinovsky later?" Sam looked up, saw his expression. "Oh? Have I finally said something to pique your interest?" "Please continue." She shook her head, found the numbness only increased. "The next day, she showed me her laboratory, which apparently doubled as a clinic for any injured reserve animals. I was fascinated and impressed by her results. She had designed her own electronic scanners, ones that could successfully examine and record the animate and inanimate objects she summoned. I wondered why she hadn't released her findings before now, but she said she was simply being cautious. I believed her. Then I wondered about the boat that had arrived after dark, a boat crewed by uniformed men. Alanya told me it was a regular supply shipment of food and equipment, a shipment managed by the local Army regiment, and that they would stay out of our way. I believed that, too. There was so much I shouldn't have believed in." * The lab was long and narrow, one sort wall taken up by two animal cages made of floor-to-ceiling bars and carpeted in old woollen blankets. Sturdy-looking electronic equipment lined half of one long wall, looking like bulky old-fashioned computer consoles. Examining tables and equipment trolleys that had sat in the centre of the room were folded and stored in a far corner. The far end of the room was bare of furniture, the walls, floors and ceiling there lined with thick dark blue padding like exercise mats, behind which was mounted the scanning equipment. Sam drew a wide circle in this area, using chalk supplied, along with other traditional paraphernalia, by Alanya. The Russian woman wore a smart skirt and blouse, and a white lab coat, and her ashen hair was pinned up. She was double checking the electronic equipment near the cages. "You have everything you need?" "Yes." She had asked Sam that twice already. She sounded nervous, and it only occurred to Sam then that she was acting quite literally like a woman meeting an old lover after a long absence. Indeed, if she checked again, she'd see Alanya was wearing makeup. She set the black candles at the cardinal points on the circle, sprinkled the salt and water, then lit the candles in succession. This was a more elaborate setup than she had needed in a long time, but Fenris was petulantly refusing to answer her mental calls. "The lights-" Above her, the fluorescents flickered off, leaving the room in the meagre candlelight. "Thank you. Is it midnight?" "Only just." Alanya began undressing, both women having agreed the need to perform skyclad. Sam straightened up, pulled her sweater over her head and kicked off her shoes. Neither of them mentioned the events of the night before, and though Sam didn't regret it, she didn't need the distraction now. She cast off her jeans, bra and panties to one side, and knelt beside Alanya, noting the fitness of the older woman's nude body. The air was cool on her bare skin, but Sam felt hot, and she quickly forced her mind to the task at hand, thoughts clearing as they spoke aloud and in unison. "O Powerful Fenris, son of Loki and Angrboda, bound to the rock of Gioll, we, your consorts past and present, conjure thee on this night and at this hour here, to order firmed affairs with thee..." The air crackled already, the lights grew within the padded enclosure. Sam's hair danced on end, and she felt dizzy. She abandoned the prayer, the formalities, and called out to him. Beloved... Beloved, come to me... Do you really want me? She smiled, blinking back tears. His voice in her mind seemed so plaintive, yet hopeful. And her fears and doubts from the night before melted away. "Oh my sweet lover, yes!" Before her, he materialised within the circle, in biped form, standing proudly. Then why did you cast wards to hold me back, even from your thoughts? What? I didn't! He stepped forward – then stopped as he saw Alanya. You? And then Hell seemed to break loose from the walls. A high-pitched, teeth-jarring hum ran through the Sam, making her collapse, nauseous, but doing far worse to Fenris, who fell, twisting and writhing as if in an epileptic fit, his screams of agony reaching her mind and increasing her own pain. Sam looked up to see thick pipes glowing through the padded walls, glowing as if white hot, and the air crackling. She didn't even know if she was speaking when she shouted, "Alanya! Stop it! Your scanners are killing him!" But even as the words escaped her lips, and she saw Alanya rise and race away, not for the controls but for her clothes, Sam realised that Alanya's machines were doing precisely what they were designed to do. Her ears rang and her skin prickled as she crawled forward, reaching out in a futile attempt to drag Fenris out of the field. It was like wading through masses of ants, but she pushed herself forward, not caring what happened to her. Suddenly the hum died away, the lights overhead flickered back to life, and the lights behind the padded walls vanished. It took a heartbeat for Sam to register this, before she heard the sounds of bootsteps charging toward her. Then she was grabbed and lifted up by young uniformed men, her limbs restrained, as if she might somehow find her strength again and resist. But then someone fitted something around her throat, and a second's terror at the prospect of being throttled or hung made her struggle, earning herself a twisted arm. And Fenris, who had struggled to his hind legs, ignoring the soldiers pointing automatic weapons at him, lifted his head in her direction and snarled, claws and teeth bared, blood red eyes fixed upon Sam's attackers. Weapons were cocked, but he still ignored him; his body, despite the detail to how it looked, felt, tasted, was not true flesh and blood but an ethereal substance. On the other hand, moments before, he was in such unprecedented pain... if Alanya could do that to him... "Fenris, vanish!" Then a second, familiar voice spoke up. "If you do, she dies. If you attack, she dies." Alanya stepped into view now, wearing her lab coat s a makeshift dressing gown, and accompanied by a young, gaunt officer with saturnine features, his wary grey eyes fixed upon Fenris. They spoke together in Russian now. Samantha, Fenris whispered in her mind, Are you well? She showed no reaction that they were communicating. Yes. And you? No. That light and sound was like Ragnarok itself. What is this, Beloved? It's a trap, 'Beloved'... A thought that had come from neither Sam nor Fenris. Alanya looked over Sam, deliberately regarding her nude body as if to humiliate her more. "You'll recover; the effects of the electromagnetic field are unpleasant, but transitory. I'd avoid repeated exposure, however, unless you are fond of brain tumours." More louder now, for the benefit of the other captive, she continued. "Miss Brennan has a radio-controlled collar fitted around her neck. The collar contains enough electric charge to harm her, or kill her, should I choose." She turned fully to Fenris, her voice thick with contempt. "Keep this in mind, monster, should you wish to give vent to your feral nature." "Why?" Sam tried fighting down her terror, glancing down at the collar, could barely see it, and was glad that the soldiers held her arms and kept her from reaching up and touching it. "You said you loved him, once." The older woman turned back to her now. "I did. Once. Now he has you." "Then this is all just about revenge?" Alanya laughed. "Hardly. This is about power. The Zvezdochyot has been most generous and faithful these last five years, funding my research into the materialisation of animate and inanimate objects into our world. But now we will make quantum leaps." She drew closer, but pointed to Fenris, who was as tightly wound as a coil, looking ready to pounce on her. "Imagine having something like that at one's beck and call, summoning him from out of the blue anywhere we want, an unstoppable war machine. Imagine a whole pack of his kind at our command. Imagine an army." "No." Sam denied her. "It can't work, Alanya. You know better than I do that the forces that shape entities like Fenris cannot be measured or studied or predicted like light or electricity. They operate by rules no one fully understands." "He understands. And, to a very limited degree, so do you. You will both assist my work." No, Fenris growled. I will not serve you. "Yes, monster, you will." Alanya drew closer to Sam, smiling when the younger woman flinched as Alanya reached out and cupped her chin, still talking to him though looking at Sam. "When the gods learned a prophecy which stated that you would one day be responsible for the destruction of the world, they had the dwarves fashion a magic chain that was incredibly strong, despite seeming so slender, and bound you to the rock of Gioll." Her hand drifted down to stroke Sam's breasts, making one of her nipples rise. "The chain that binds you now is equally strong, despite being equally slender. Allow me to demonstrate." She looked back at him. "Get down on all fours, like a good dog." He didn't move. Alanya lifted a small box in her hand- and pain like a wire garrotte shot through Sam, making her wail and lose control of her limbs. Fenris dropped to all fours, his head low. Alanya spoke to the soldiers in Russian; they dragged Sam away, towards a cage. * Sam glanced up again. "I tell you I have a spirit lover, and you label me mad. I tell you your own military is trying to create a spirit army, and you don't bat an eyelash." "The Zvezdochyot, the Special Weapons Directorate, is not strictly the military. And I know them better than I do you." He paused to remove his jacket and speak to the aide. "I believe less in magic than in fools wasting hard currency on insane projects." She watched him roll up one of his sleeves, revealing a thick, hairy forearm. "Tell that to those killed on Tsyerkovolk." Then she watched as the aide injected something into Roshenko. "You should Say No to Drugs, Major." He grunted. "Not if they help keep me up for a few hours more." He rolled down his sleeve again, buttoned the cuff. "Continue. What happened next?" Wolf's Bane "I watched as they put a collar on him, a simple one, not like mine. They examined him, as best they could, photographing, measuring his strength, his stamina. They took samples of his hair, his blood, sputum, scrapings of skin - but all of the samples quickly vanished, yielding them nothing. I hated seeing the way they treated him. I was ignored by Alanya and her cronies, and trying not to think about wearing nothing on me but a ring of plastic explosive. When they were done, they ushered him into the cage next to mine, had cameras and microphones set up but chained him out of my reach. Most of the soldiers left, leaving Alanya, some technicians, a guard, and that creepy thin officer who'd come in with her..." * Alanya smiled as she approached Sam's cage. "That look suits you, my dear. Perhaps we can keep you like that permanently as you work with us." Rage and fear vied for dominance within Sam, and her voice was as taut as her expression. "This was planned all along. You'd learned of my association with Fenris, confused and distracted me with your seduction, blocked him from my mind, conspired to get me here and summon him to your lab-" "Yes, yes, please catch up." The scorn was almost palpable. "The Community was quite accurate about your monumental obtuseness. It is the greatest of your many flaws." "And what have I done to deserve such disdain from you?" The older woman leaned in closer, her voice dropping. "By reminding me of myself, years ago: love struck, naïve, self-centred, whining, wasting your considerable talents on petty liberal causes, and worst of all, falling for his lies. Him, the offspring of Loki, God of Lies! Seeing, talking to you brought it all back, and it was all I could do not to throttle you." Her lip curled. "You disgust me." Sam couldn't recall ever being on the receiving end of such bile. But she was determined not to show how affected by it she was, and drew closer until her face was against the bars of the cage. "You forgot to mention I make you envious, too. When you realised that Fenris was staying, that he did love me enough not to flee. Something he never demonstrated to you, did he-" Sam's words descended into cries as Alanya shot another jolt of electricity into her, making her collapse into sobs. Alanya! Fenris growled, his own huge hands making the bars seem thin and fragile as he clutched them, his thoughts low and steady like distant thunder. Count the last hours of your life on the fingers of one hand. She remained visibly unimpressed. "Once you were my lover, my god, and I was utterly devoted to you. Your betrayal opened my eyes to what you were." And the succeeding years have only blurred your vision. Years distort the truth in men and women's hearts. Family and lovers long since past become gods, or monsters. But I am immortal, and it was as if it were yesterday. You were devoted, yes, but you were more devoted to your own ambition, your own pride, neither of which could accept that I would not stay with you forever, or help you with your own advancement. And I never pledged my love to you, to anyone, until this women. Alanya shook in place, her face a mask of barely-controlled fury, quickly forced down again as she returned to Sam. "I would advise you not to touch your collar, it's programmed to detonate with enough force to remove your head from your body if it's tampered with." She indicated the gaunt officer. "Lieutenant Giger would like a demonstration of the mating habits of our specimen. Your cooperation in the name of scientific research would be most helpful. Well?" Sam forced herself to recover, refusing to lie prostrate before this woman. She wiped the tears from her face and rose onto quivering limbs. She hadn't felt such rage in years. "Would you... would you be hurt if I told you to go fuck yourself?" Alanya turned back to Fenris. "If she doesn't cooperate, then you will rape her. And if you don't cooperate, I will kill her. Which is preferable, monster, hurting the woman you love, or letting her die?" The cage bars in Fenris' grip groaned as he twisted them. If she dies, you will be the first to follow. But not the last. Because if she dies, there will be nothing to stop me from turning this land red with the blood of your wretched race. I will leave nothing alive. "At my age, one prepares to die. As for my people, it will not be the first time our Moist Mother Earth was stained in such a way." She looked back to Sam. "Well?" Sam swallowed, looked to Fenris and nodded. They moved the cameras to the space where the EM field was generated. Alanya and Giger and some of the technicians stayed in the background, observing, muttering between themselves. It was simply an experiment for them. They couldn't grasp the intimacy, the majesty and passion involved. Sam and Fenris sat within the enclosure, whispering to each other, remembering their first encounters, their subsequent development, their travels and adventures, how they'd grown to fulfil each other in ways they could never have realised beforehand. They sat closer, held hands, Fenris stroking her hair, Sam gasping at his touch. She pulled Fenris into a kneeling embrace, kissing his neck, the skin beneath his ears, nipping him. His fingers moved into her hair, his furred face brushing against hers, and their kisses and nips intensified, and multiplied. Sam drew back, trying to hide her looking about, looking about at the observers forcing them to reveal the details of their most private moments and feelings. Fenris squeezed her gently. Look at me, Samantha. Not them. They're not there. We're alone. Sam nodded, tracing her fingers over the broad outline of Fenris' long, pointed jaw, then back into the deeper fur at the base of his throat, so thick and soft in her hands. Breathing harder, moaning softly, she ground her pelvis against his, feeling the hardness of his swelling cock pressing into her as the touch of his hands aroused her further. She shivered. His fingertips traced their way up their thighs with long, deliciously slow strokes as her nipped her again, and she kissed him back. His fingers moved to her pussy, carefully parting her and letting one finger slip inside. Sam moaned into his skin, and reached down to take his shaft in her hand, feeling it pulse, feeling it long to be inside her, and giving him long, languid strokes in response. Sam imagined she could almost hear the collective, excited beatings of the hearts of those assembled, instinctively drawn to the forbidden, thankfully keeping back and keeping silent, but still watching. She pulled back from him as he murmured Lie back. She happily obliged, dropping onto her back and parting her legs as he dropped to all fours, making Sam squirm in delight as his long, rough tongue touched and teased her swollen pussy and full, throbbing clit. He lapped at her, slowly and lovingly, as her mouth opened and her eyes closed, and she felt a climax building, building - a short, sharp one came unexpectedly, making her start. Then Fenris rose, padded over her, slipping his arms under her thighs and lifting them up as he speared her from above, his breath escaping from him in a low grunt as he filled her up once more. Sam called out, her limbs flooded with the rapture of the reunion of their bodies that she had craved for so long. Fenris too lay still, as if he'd squandered all his energy in that first thrust. She lifted her head, tasting his muzzle, his jaw, the salty tang of his sweat, as her pussy muscles rippled along the length of him. "Beloved," she murmured, a prayer on her lips. And, as if a command, he began to move again now, gently lifting upwards, almost fully withdrawing from her body before slipping back into her inch by delicious inch, their fit ideal, their movements as natural as the rise and fall of the moon. His tail twitched behind him as he bent forward again, licking at her aching, sweat-beaded breasts with his tongue. Her hands steadied her on his shoulders, her fingernails piercing him, wanting him marked, as he marked her, for all to see. His thrusting became more insistent, unable to bear things at such an agonisingly slow pace. Parting from his throat, she puffed, "Wait- wait- take me- behind-" He nodded, withdrawing long enough for her to twist about until she was on all fours and Fenris was on his knees behind her. He gripped her hips, and in that position, he went wild, losing control, the rude slapping of their bodies inducing a climax within her. She lowered her head to the floor and pushed her body back against his, until his cock was stroking against her G-spot, sending thrumming through her like a plucked guitar string. Now her limbs quaked and she could barely control her movements except to push and gyrate. Around her, the world vanished. Suddenly Fenris' body went rigid, and he threw his head back and howled. Sam responded to his surrender with her own, locked together, pumping into one another. She felt giddy with the sensation as she squeezed him, harder, harder, milking him thoroughly, savouring every bullet of come he shot deep into her. They remained in place, feeling the ebbs drift away, until Sam sensed that they should separate, and did so, Fenris taking her into his arms and cradling her. She rode on blissful waves, idly taking tufts of his fur between her teeth and tugging them. Never expecting the fur to fall out, as it did. She pulled back, spitting it out and looking up at him, her confusion giving way to alarm at the pained look in his eyes. Beloved?" Even his pseudo-breathing was laboured. It's nearing dawn... The awful realisation struck her to the core. * She paused, prompting Roshenko to ask, "And the significance of this?" She breathed out, blinking back tears. "Spirit forms, even ones as powerful and independent as Fenris, have limitations in this world, and are bound by many of our laws. In his case, he is a creature of the night, not the day, and even then, only for brief periods. Alanya was keeping him there for longer than he'd ever done. He had to struggle against the instinctive urge to vanish; for him, it was like trying to keep your hand immersed in boiling water. He was... disintegrating, right before my eyes." "So? You could just recreate him the following night-" She shook her head. "No. He is - was - a unique individual. And for all their power and immortality, in our world, on our plane, such entities can die, or be killed. I've seen it happen." "But with him gone, his knowledge would be gone too." "So I pointed out to Alanya, pleading with her to let him go. She simply said she was taking care of matters." Her head rang. "Major, if there are any pain killers on that tray, I'd appreciate some." "Perhaps after. Continue." She swallowed, ignoring the chill running down her back. "They returned us to our separate cages. Alanya gave me back my clothes, but otherwise ignored me, concerned as she was with unpacking some equipment. I was more focused on reaching out to Fenris through our rapport..." * Beloved... Fenris half-lay in his cage, looking pale like some washed-out photograph, and he was gradually losing his biped form, reverting to a more wolf-like appearance, albeit that had just been delivered in long still a huge one. Samantha... I must tell you something... about what I said, during our argument... She knelt inside her cage, tears streaming unchallenged down her face; they had given her back her clothes, but she still felt naked before the raw emotions spilling from her. You don't have to tell me anything, Beloved. But I do, while there's time. Your questions awakened truths within me I could not easily face. I have had many consorts over the centuries, chosen for their abilities, for how they could serve my purposes. I have not treated them all like Alanya. Some I have stayed devoted to until death. Their deaths. You have such brief spans here, but I am the cursed one, for seeing all of you grow old, then die, and leave for places I could never follow. The thought of losing you too... He looked away, and every movement seemed a painful effort. Having you, the only one I have ever truly loved... as my last consort... makes my departure more bearable... "No!" she called aloud, turning to Alanya, whose attention she'd caught with her outburst. "Alanya, please! He's dying! I'll do anything you want, work any spell, summon any creature! Just free him from his obligation!" The Russian woman paused to give instructions to some of the technicians, who were assembling long metal poles with chains and attachments, before returning to Sam. "Stop your crying, my dear. He won't die, not if what I have in mind succeeds." She directed the technicians to approach with the poles as she opened his cage; Sam recognised them then as tools for handling dangerous animals from a distance. They latched one end to his collar, tugging as he struggled to move. He paused, seemed to lose more energy as he weakly morphed into a fully lupine state, before letting himself be directed out of the lab. Sam tried to reach him with her mind, called out to him when she couldn't. "Fenris! Beloved!" She turned back to Alanya. "You fucking bitch! What are you doing to him?" The Russian stepped closer, but not close enough for Sam to reach her if she had a mind to do so. "Insuring that we keep your monstrous paramour among us indefinitely. Based upon my own research - and some additional information you have unwittingly provided – I am going to attempt to infuse his spirit, graft it if you will, into the body of one of the island's adult male wolves. He should retain his knowledge, his identity, his ability to communicate telepathically. But he will be trapped within a fleshy frame. Of course, I'm not certain if he'll be able to transform that flesh, so any lovemaking between yourselves may become completely socially unacceptable." Sam's mind reeled, ignoring the last taunt. Was it possible? She knew some spirits could inhabit living bodies, had seen it herself with Mikhail in Belarus. And if it worked, he would be with her twenty-four/seven. Maybe not the same as before, but... But nothing. It would make him a shadow of his former self. It was a foolish, needless risk. "Alanya, you don't have to do this to him. Send him away, he'll come back for me tomorrow night." "I doubt it. I've proven that I could injure, possibly kill him. And whatever he feels for you, he can't risk his agenda." "His... agenda?" Alanya smirked. "What, did you think he made consorts of women through the centuries just because he enjoyed sex with us?" More serious now, she asked, "Have you ever given thought to the notion that the Norse stories were based in fact? That Fenris was really out to initiate Ragnarok, the end of the world? And that you have been his unwitting accomplices towards this?" She smirked. "Perhaps I'm not as villainous as you imagine." The question stunned Samantha. "No. No, it can't be..." And Alanya sighed, almost sounding bored now. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an operation to perform at the crack of dawn." She turned to depart, and Sam relented, desperation welling up. "Alanya, please! Don't!" The woman ignored her, switched off the lights in the lab and left Sam alone. She wanted to slump down and weep again, but she was out of tears – and Fenris was nearly out of time. Instead she knelt down and opened her mind, seeking him out there. He could not be far. Fenris. Beloved... Samantha... so good to hear your thoughts... one last time... No! Don't give up! Leave! You have to survive! Not at your expanse. Not while you live. And with that, Sam made a decision, with no regrets or hesitation. She may not know his true purpose in this world, but she trusted it to be a good one, and one not to be jeopardised by her life being held hostage. Her hand shot up to her collar, grabbed hold of it and twisted, using her other hand for leverage. Her eyes were shut tight, awaiting the inevitable as she broke her collar. The inevitable, however, proved elusive. She held the collar, ran her fingers along it, feeling thumb-sized metal compartments, then flung it out of her cage in case her suspicions were incorrect. But nothing happened. A growing fury built within her like a storm. The lying fucking bitch... Fenris! It was a bluff! I'm safe! Fenris! He didn't answer. Was it too late? No... She rose to her feet, grasped the bars of her cage, pulled and squeezed and twisted. She had to get out, get out and get to Fenris, give him a chance to escape. Her mind called out again, but still she heard nothing. If it was too late... Filled with nothing more than a blinding determination to be free, Sam struggled with the door to her cage. Her back muscles strained, her biceps bulged, the cords in her neck felt taut like piano strings, ready to snap. She was going to be free – she wasn't just a woman. She was the consort of a god. And she... was going to be... Then with a screeching groan, the lock in the cage door snapped. Snarling at her own unexpected, unprecedented strength, Sam slammed the door open and bolted from the lab, moving through deserted corridors with a speed and stealth she had never felt before, escaping from a side door of the building. The sky was beginning to turn a salmon-pink, revealing concentric layers of high, thin clouds. But a greater light came from the west, from the direction of the stone circle, the site where ancient practitioners of magic shaped and sculpted their vision of a wolf strong enough to consume the world. She moved through the forest, being careful without ever stopping. The clearing was surrounded by dozens of soldiers and technicians, carrying weapons, recording equipment, scanners, but all keeping clear of the centre of the circle. There, a column of bone-white arcane energy rose like flames: a Balefire, an edification of the power on hand here. It cast the faces who stared into it with an eldritch glow, making them appear like walking skeletons. Alanya stood just outside of balefire, in all her naked glory, arms outstretched, mouthing incantations. At the other side of the balefire, further away from Sam, she saw two figures on the ground, both of similar shape but one larger than the other, huddled together as fingers of light danced out from the columns to caress them, weave them together. It had to be Fenris, and the male wolf whose body he would very soon inhabit. Indeed, the figures appeared to be merging, like waxwork effigies melting together beside a fire. There was no time. Sam burst through the shrubbery, shoving aside two soldiers in her way, uncaring if they shot at her. "FENRIS!" The larger four-legged figure turned in her direction. Samantha! Don't! It's too late! Closer still, Alanya turned, fear and fury in her eyes. "Stay back! I've unleashed-" Sam didn't care. Her instincts told her to attack. And she did, slamming into Alanya, sending them both into the heart of the balefire. They grappled, even as both women found themselves battered from all sides. There was a swirling, circular motion to the energy, as it formed itself into a maelstrom, a vortex. Sam felt the power blazing through her, burning through her veins, searing through her spirit. Her whole being was alive, and yet burned to the core. She felt light, lifted from her feet though the eye of the vortex, the pain and the pleasure mingling, and her brain was full of light and sound. She could hear herself screaming, the wind and the rain of energy still lashing her body. She felt god-like, and yet undergoing the punishment of a god. Wolf's Bane In her arms, Alanya stared, transfixed, screaming like Sam – but unlike Sam, her body began creasing and peeling, her body aging and rotting, wizening with degeneration. Shrinking, desiccating, that look in her eyes remaining even after her eyes, and the body around it, turned to dust, joined the rest of the debris in the growing maelstrom and leaving Sam's hands empty. Sam wondered if her own body was undergoing the same disintegration. No. Behind her/within/around her, she felt Fenris. Beloved? She felt his massive arms surround her. Yes, Samantha. You should not have come back. She turned around, facing him. He was as tall and powerful and beautiful as she had ever seen him. He looked down at her with the same naked love that she felt for him. You can punish me later. I fear there will not be a later... Oh God, what's happening? Forces have been unleashed, forces not easily contained again. They're growing. Somehow, Sam found herself able to look beyond. Men and women began to scream, cowering down as the blizzard of energy filled the area, and grew, uprooting stones and leaves, trees... Her heart seemed to stop. How far will this go? Too far. What can we do? He reached up and touched her face, stroked her tenderly. I can draw the energy back and seal the breach. You... you can go on living. For both of us. And know I will always love you. Fenris, what- He released her. She seemed to drift away, her struggles to swim through the vortex and return to him in vain. Beloved, no! NO! He drifted upwards, into the heart of the vortex. Out of his protective touch, the pressures overwhelmed her. She blacked out... When she came to, it was late morning, the sun higher in the sky, but all was quiet, no birds, no voices. The ground around her smoked, ashen, like the aftermath of a forest fire, and a thin dust was slowly sifting through the air and settling over everything. The circle of stones was shattered, each stone splintered into a thousand shards, forming cairns now. She rose onto unsteady feet, mouth agape at the utter destruction around her. Trees were uprooted, stripped bare of branches and leaves, thickets burned away leaving gnarled roots. Beyond these, the former monastery still seemed to stand – until it too, now crumbled, collapsing soundlessly in a swirling blanket of dust, and what few windows that had remained intact exploded silently in arcs of glittering fragments. She walked about, stunned, stopping at a portable power generator probably used by the Russians for their scanning and recording devices. She touched it – then stepped back in alarm as the frame split apart like a rotten husk and crumbled before her astonished eyes into pulverised dust. Cold sweat bathed her forehead, and she fell back to her knees, faint and sick to her stomach. It took several moments for the wave of nausea to pass and a faint flush of heat to seep back into her cheeks. But of everything she saw around her, nothing compared with the loss she now faced. "Fenris... Beloved..." Distantly she was aware of the helicopters landing, but ignored them, still calling his name. * "He sealed the breach, at the cost of his own life." Roshenko stated rather than asked. Sam nodded. "Ironic. He was a creature prophesised to destroy the world. Instead he saved it." "And all for the love of a woman who had touched his heart." The sneer in the Major's voice told her what he thought about her story. "And I am expected to brief my superiors with such an outlandish, melodramatic tale of love and sacrifice?" He shook his head. "I don't think so." He spoke in Russian. Beside Sam, the aide prepared another injection. "Can't you- can't you check with the Special Weapons Directorate? They must have files on what Alanya was doing for them." He grunted. "Clearly you have no idea about the political labyrinth one would have to traverse for that. At any rate, that will be a task for someone else. My task is to glean the truth from you. And you will provide it." She winced, her head pounding. "Major... I've told you the truth. I don't care whether you believe me or not." "You will. You are to be injected with cyanolin. And for the next three hours, you will feel like you are suffocating. The pain and terror will be unrelenting, but you will not die, or even pass out. Meanwhile, while you are undergoing that, I shall get some dinner and rest, as it's late. And when I return, I think you will be in a more accommodating frame of mind." Samantha... She looked up, as if Roshenko had spoken to her, her face creased with disbelief. "Fenris?" "Miss Brennan, spare me any more of your lies." Samantha, I am here... "Where?" Within you. Growing stronger. Just let me out. "Miss Brennan, a pretence at insanity will not save you..." "Inside me? But..." Then she felt him. And laughed to herself, even through the pain, a pain induced not by chemicals but a drive to metamorphosis, now coursing through every cell in her body, as it changed: bones lengthening, thickening, muscles swelling and bulging, breaking the leather straps restraining her wrists and ankles. The aide holding the vial of pain-inducing poison just stood there dumbfounded, letting Sam reach out and smack him across the head with a bone-breaking snap, sending him flying away until he crumpled against a wall. Her clothes ripped and tore at the seams, falling away as she rose to her feet, copper-brown fur snaking out from under her skin, a pain at the base of her spine telling her she was growing a tail, even as her ears rose to the top of her head and grew points, and her nose and jaw extended forward. She convulsed and spasmed, but with the pain came power. Roshenko backed away into a corner of the room, the terror paling his face into a chalky hue, fingers struggling with the holster at his side, desperate to withdraw his sidearm. The table bolted to the floor stood between them, and she could have walked around it, but chose instead to grab one end and rip it from its bolts, sending it away as if to cover the body of the aide. She saw him with eyes that saw more than her old ones did, heard and smelled things she couldn't imagine existed. She felt the claws extend from the tips of her thick fingers as she reached out, pulled his trembling hands from his holster. She towered over him, and smelled him soiling himself. And with a voice lined with an eternal growl, the figure who was now more than Samantha Brennan snarled, "Piotr Roshenko... You said you only believe in what you see before you. Now, before you die.. believe..." And Piotr met the Wolf... * The alarms went off throughout the Aryekhi facility, and guards scrambled to their posts, bolting shut each iron door as per a thousand drills. No door, however, withstood the juggernaut onslaught of the woman who was Samantha Brennan, in full lupine form, charging forward like a rhino through the labyrinthine brick corridors, as large as a bear but unstoppable. Bolts flew and metal protested in vain as she charged forward, and any guards that raised weapons, or even just stepped aside in confusion and terror, proved no hindrance whatsoever, leaving them battered pulp along the way. She charged forward, again and again, through door after door, senses leading her onward. She had no thoughts now, no time nor effort for them, swept away as she was by the ineffable power and emotion coursing through her veins, through every fibre of her being. She was Wolf. She was Wildness. She was Speed and Hunger and Instinct. She was a Goddess. And she would be free. * She didn't know where Aryekhi was while inside. There was no clue outside, either; the place looked like a nameless factory, with smoked-up windows and chimneys that belched out black puffs into the night. Trucks were parked along what looked like a delivery entrance, but she had neither the time – nor the body – to drive away. Alarms were sounding, and spotlights were being trained on the corners of the building, but Samantha was already far away, crashing through the barb wire-topped fence as if it were paper, and charging forward into a deep forest rising along steep slopes, kicking dirt and pebbles out behind her. Unlike the cold, deathly prison, she was aware of everything around her out here, a riot of sensations that she fought to set aside now as she bounded forward. But- but there was so much to sense, explore, hunt- No, Beloved. Flight is paramount. Fenris? You're still with me? I never left. Now stop thinking. Feel. Feel the need to escape. They may follow. Yes, yes of course. She strode onward, time having no meaning except for the rise of the moon overhead, ignored, until she found a shard of rock large enough to shelter her and protect her from the elements, though she felt strong enough to withstand anything. No, don't let that feeling overwhelm you. It is seductive, but it is deceptive. Samantha settled down onto her belly, drawing her tail – a tail! – around her. You entered me, I mean your spirit did. In the Balefire. Why didn't you say before? I didn't want Alanya to know. And I... I wasn't sure if I could do it, and seal the breach. I didn't want to raise your hopes. But it's been hours! Where were you? Buried deep inside you, Samantha, trying to recover. Inside, she smiled. I should be mad. But I'm just so incredibly overwhelmed that you're alive... She raised her head and stared down at her paws. What now, though? Am I to be like this permanently? Are we joined for life? Will you be able to- Samantha... shut up. Close your eyes. She did. * When it felt right to open them again, she found herself outside, She found herself outside, but not where she was a moment before, but on a plain that seemed more ethereal than real - a landscape of the mind. And she was Wolf, a full, normal-sized wolf, glancing up at a sky of a thousand thousand stars. She howled, for the first time. It was a glorious call. Beloved... She turned. Fenris! She raced to him, nuzzled him, this mind-form feeling as real as her own body. He licked at her face. Of course it feels real. Every woman carries within her the spirit of the Wolf: Strong, life-giving, life-affirming, cunning, discerning, loyal, courageous beyond measure. They carry tales, dreams, words and songs. They carry everything they need, and they stand with dignity and fight to the death to protect their own. She glanced down, saw herself human again. And saw Fenris as the same, but also not. They were in a kaleidoscope of images, constantly shifting, altering, forming new combinations as he drew her close into a rough embrace, their lips/muzzles pressing, grinding, tongues entwining. He was rough, impatient, desperate for her. All the things she felt, and more. The throbbing between her thighs, no longer to be regarded as nerves, had grown harder, more insistent, sending her sex into a fluttering, pulsing state. But she drew back, inescapable thoughts making themselves known, no longer ignorable. Fenris, you have goals in my world? Plans? Ragnarok- Ragnarok was an invention of man, men who shaped me to play a part in their myths. I have become far more than that, with your help. Darkness is coming. Forces are gathering in all the worlds. No one will stand apart, untouched by it. But know I will stand on the side of light. As, I hope, will you, with me. Tears fell down her face. Yes. Oh yes, Beloved! They embraced, clinging to each other for dear life. Until she could no longer ignore the erection pressing against her. And when she reached down and stroked it, and Fenris growled into her neck in reply, she dropped onto all fours, arching her back and presenting him with a view of her full, rounded bottom, and the shadowed valley between her cheeks. She growled to herself, bringing her thighs together once to rub them, to feel the wetness seep from her sex. Then he was upon her, his cock pressing urgently between her legs. She lifted her buttocks higher, and he moaned as he positioned himself, then plunged hungrily into her sex. The feeling was eclipsed by a climax that had suddenly enveloped her, dousing her again and again as he plunged and retreated inside her hot, moist channel. Samantha burst into laughter, again eclipsed by the waves of pleasure running over and through her. The deep, full thrusts of Ferris's cock felt exquisite. She buried her face into her arms/paws as she cried out, the climax taking hold of her again, turning her into a thrashing whipcord demon, struggling not to escape, but to keep him behind her, within her, driving her onwards. Soon, too soon for her, he cried out and came, and she used her muscles to milk him for every drop he had. Then he collapsed upon her, still inside. Samantha supported his for a moment, until he withdrew, and they nestled together like spoons. His arm lay over her, his wet, still-erect cock nudged between her cheeks, their come mingling and seeping quietly from her. Fenris, will you stay with me? For as long as I can, Samantha... * Morning and pain awoke her, and it took a moment's meditative focus to minimise her reactions, allowing her to watch almost detachedly as her body shrunk and reshaped back into her human form. She lay on the cave floor, letting the shivers overrun her before rising unsteadily to a sitting position, wrapping her arms around her legs and staring outside. The cave overlooked a craggy valley of dark forests surrounded by mist-shrouded mountains beneath a roseate morning sky. Her lingering enhanced senses told her no one was around. Good. Not that she was out of the woods - literally. In fact, being without clothes, identification or weapons in the middle of nowhere and with secret government forces after her was hardly the acme of good situations. No matter. She carries everything she needs, and she will stand with dignity, and fight to the death to protect her own. FIN