FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Lykos Chapter 13 (The Gathering)

Clawed feet tore into the snow covered dirt, kicking up pieces of bark and ground covering plants. Udo stalked through the forest at top speed, his eyes gleaming an intense amber. A long, luxurious white tail hung down over his muscled ass, his feathery blond hair had taken on a few white streaks and his cheeks were covered in thick fuzz. Udo had been so heedless of branches and shrubs that his black shirt was torn up and his pants were stained, making him look like something out of a child's nightmare, but Udo couldn't have cared less about what he looked like.

Udo had been searching for hours, but he wasn't going to give up. He'd been heading toward Denver, traveling several hundred feet into the forest from the highway. There had been a few times the twins had crossed his path, but each time they grew more hopeless. Mattias' last call had conveyed the worst, that Marco had been shot with hunter bullets. What the bullet itself couldn't do, the poison usually finished, but Udo couldn't give up. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a scrap of one of Marco's shirt and brought it to his nose, inhaling sharply.

The scent was rich with a cinnamon like musk, a hint of orchid and the faint smell of wet wood that generally came with being a werewolf. Smelling that scent made Udo's heart flutter in excitement. It was the smell of his alpha, his lover, his boyfriend... but then his heart came crashing down. Marco was hurt and alone. Udo tucked the shirt back in place and took off again, moving fast.

His eyes scanned the surroundings for any clue, any hint. He was starting to worry that he had over shot and passed Marco, or that in his confused state Marco might have tried to take a more direct route. The Grand Mesa forest was immense. Udo's heart began racing with mounting concern and fear and doubt. He continued to run, though his nostrils flared as he picked up a new scent.

The smell was organic; rich in chlorophyll, hints of vanilla with deep undertones of an almost sickly milky smell. Udo moved toward the smell before he lifted his head up, spotting the source. The lotus tree sat in the middle of a clearing, all by itself. Udo's eyes widened in hope. Mattias had mentioned a lotus tree in Marco's call. Udo sprinted toward the tree, looking around.

"Marco! MARCO!" Udo called out frantically, but there was no response. Udo's heart pounded harder with every beat in his chest until it felt like a jack hammer against his ribs. He lifted his head, parted his lips and let out the deepest, most urgent howl he had ever managed in his life. The sound ripped through his lungs and throat before filling the forest.

Udo slowly lowered his head, hoping for a response. He got one, then a second, but both were from the twins in the distance. Udo's brows fell and his head lowered. He began moving forward again, trudging along, feeling hopeless. Hot, wet tears began sliding down his cheeks before falling to the ground. Udo could smell the salt in his own tears, as well as the salt around him... and the iron in blood that soaked the dirt.

One sniff became two, then three. Udo became more and more aware of the smell of blood, but worse than that... the faint undercurrent of orchids and cinnamon. Udo moved in toward the smell, following it before he skidded to a stop, seeing the collapsed body of his alpha. Marco was laying motionless on the ground, his hand outstretched toward some small yellow flowers, having failed to reach them. Udo trembled gently and moved closer.

"Marco?" he whispered, "Marco..." Udo said more urgently. He crouched down and jabbed his alpha in the shoulder, but that got no response. Udo's tears began to flow freely. He brought his hand to Marco's neck. While he lacked medical training, it was clear that his heart wasn't beating and that he wasn't breathing, though his skin still felt somewhat warm to the touch. Udo moved quickly to roll Marco off of his chest and onto his back before straddling his alpha wolf. Udo brought his hands to Marco's chest and leaned down, bringing their lips together. Udo prayed he would get it at least half way right.

The air was pushed out of Udo's lungs and into Marco's, though Udo found it rather difficult to inflate them fully. Marco's lungs were bigger than his. As the air started to come back out, Udo pushed down on Marco's chest, trying to stimulate his heart. It felt awkward at first, almost like he was too high before he adjusted and tried to find the sweet spot. Udo felt like an idiot for not taking CPR classes, but he had to try.

Another breath in, then out and compressions. Then again. Udo was trying to stay steady, to remain focused, but his own heart was skipping out of beat. Sweat was rolling down his head, and he was getting a little dizzy from the breathing exercises. Marco was technically dead, and if Udo failed he would be dead for real. Udo tried to push those thoughts from his mind. Instead, he started thinking about how shallow and empty his life was back home. His pack had given him the strength to live, to face it all, to hope for a future. Marco's life was his own.

"COME ON!" Udo screamed, his voice hoarse. He breathed into Marco's mouth again and thumped his chest. His mind reeled from it all. Marco wasn't responding. He was growing cooler. Udo had tried saving Marco like a human, but that wasn't working. He had to think outside the box, to consider something else. He had to trigger Marco's healing factor, he had to get his body to repair itself. Udo began breathing faster as the idea formed in his mind. He felt crazy, downright insane, but he had to try.

Udo leaned down, brought his mouth to Marco's shoulder and bit into it. The fangs pierced the skin and the blood gushed into Udo's mouth. Udo felt disgusted with himself, both at having done that and the fact that the tang of Marco's blood has a scent and flavor of its own. Udo wiped his mouth on his sleeve to get as much of the blood off as he could before he leaned down and began breathing into Marco's mouth again, his hands returning to his alpha's chest.

Again the breathing and compressions resumed, working fast and hard. Udo didn't give up, didn't stop. His eyes remained shut and he kept at it for some time. He didn't want to tempt fate, he didn't want to get his hopes up. By keeping his eyes closed, though, he didn't notice as the bite wounds began to slowly knit themselves back together. The flesh closed up, the holes getting smaller and smaller until only a stain of red remained. As the bite wounds closed, other wounds on Marco's body started to heal again. The damage to his shoulder was restoring itself, though the wounds to his abdomen were still resisting.

Udo felt a flutter beneath his hands. Marco's heart was restarting, trying to pump the blood through his body again, using just the feeble air in his lungs, but that wasn't going to be good enough. It needed more. Despite their condition, Marco's lungs took a shuddering breath in, then another. Udo broke the kiss and sat up, watching Marco's chest start to move. Color was returning to his cheeks, but he hadn't yet woken up. Udo wrapped his arms around his own stomach, shuddering in disbelief that it had worked. The weight felt lifted off his heart, though there was still an odd weight on his hip. Only then did Udo remember.

"Fuck!" Udo cried, reaching into his pocket, pulling out the canteen. He hastily unscrewed the lid and looked at the contents before he drizzled some of it onto Marco's torn up abdomen, a little on his shoulders before he debated pouring the rest down his throat, but with is lungs just starting again, what if he drowned the poor wolf? Udo needed to get Marco to some real help, and the fastest way to do that was on two wheels. Once more Udo lifted his head and burst into a howl, summoning forth the twins to come to their aid.

****

The rain came down steadily as it had all day, soaking the landscape completely. Water dripped in thick drops from the leaves of the trees, the lush green grass did its best to absorb the excess, and small rivulets ran down the slope of the nature trail, turning the stepping stones into islands. Thunder echoed across the heavens, like a fuzzy blanket cuddling the islands. To Ren it seemed more than fitting, as if the world itself was weeping over the recent losses.

Ren moved down the path, a clear umbrella over her head. She felt like allowing the rain to soak her, to saturate her and let her bask in its cold chill... but that too would be out of place. She continued down the path, coming passing a variety of unique plants and rock formations before she came to a stop next to an apparently forgotten, abandoned shinto gate. The paint had long ago faded from the wood, leaving simple faint carvings in place of markers. It was set not across the nature trail but parallel with it, though a large stone blocked access behind it.

The keeper reached out and affectionately rubbed the gate before she drew her fingertip along a circle in the gate. Glancing one way and then the other, she stepped through. The air rippled around her as she passed the threshold. As she reached the other side, the view had changed. She was standing in a zen garden, the sand fully soaked and saturated. There were two islands in the sand, each with its own shinto gate. Unlike the first, however, these were painted in rich red and black.

Ren walked to the edge of the garden and stopped, glancing down. Resting on the ground was a rather unassuming three pointed stone. It currently pointed to the right, but Ren tilted it with her foot to point to the left before she crossed the sand and walked through the next gate. Again the view changed, this time leaving her in a vast clearing amid an orchard of cherry trees. Two more gates were present and another pointed stone.

Once more Ren approached, turning the stone with her foot to point to the path she would not take before moving through the right archway. It was a complex ritual, the last form of protection for the Keeper shrine and the strongest element of magic the Keepers had ever been able to manage. It was for that reason that the home of all keepers remained in Japan. It was the only place that could be hidden from Hunters. Anyone breaking the pattern of gates would be lost into a vast labyrinth and the keepers would be informed immediately. Ren's only regret was that the hidden sanctuary wasn't big enough to hide all the wolves of the world away from evil.

Passing through the last gate, Ren stepped out onto the edge of a vast artificial lake. Large cement slabs twenty feet across surrounded the lake, extending out over the water. Slightly arched, intricately carved wooden bridges spanned the distance from the two sides to the island in the center where a vast, five story tall pagoda rested. The roof was a rich black, contrasting with the bright reddish orange of the gabled eaves. It was a good match for the many koi that swam around the lake around the structure, and for the robes of the keepers that lived in the shrine.

Ren stood for a moment, taking it all in, looking at the people that crossed the bridges, gathering for the meeting. It was clear that keepers from all over the world had come en masse to deal with the tragedy. Ren only hoped that such a gathering would prove fruitful. Leaving the wolves of Echo Creek was very difficult. She would ensure it wouldn't be for nothing. With that determination she began walking around the edge of the lake, moving for the bridge.

****

The growl of the dirt bikes sounded up the road as they moved along, the tires kicking up gravel from the rustic back road. It had surprised Udo that there were any houses so far removed from Echo Creek itself, but sure enough, tucked away amid a dense grove of trees was a wide, simple single level home with a slightly sloped and moss covered roof. Udo held onto Kieran tighter as they moved off the road and up the driveway, looking over to where Marco had been secured to Liam's back. The dirt bikes came to a stop in front of the garage and Kieran hopped off, moving over to help move Marco.

"What is this place?" Udo asked, looking at the house. Bamboo blinds hung down over the main window and storm shutters closed off the other windows in the front. There was no distinguishable line from where the forest ended and the property began, ferns growing all over the makeshift yard.

"The house belongs to Old Man Turner... Vietnam Vet, and wolf like ourselves." Kieran said before he lifted Marco up along with Liam. The twins began moving Marco toward the door. Udo moved up the walkway ahead of them quickly, knocking on the door. There was a bit of a delay before several locks clicked on the other side of the door and it eased open.

A man peered out from the other side of the door, appearing to be in his late fifties or early sixties, though he had aged well. His shirt was still tight over muscled arms and a chest and while his hair had descended into gray, it had a lustrous and healthy look to it. His jaw was lined with a grizzled and short kept beard. He glanced at Udo and then at the twins before letting out a soft grunt.

"No one ever visits just because..." Turner muttered, opening the door wide for them. The twins moved through the doorway with Marco, passing through the living room and the dining room before heading to the right. There were two doors to that side of the house, one obviously leading to the garage but another was set back. A room had apparently been built into the back of the garage to be hidden away from public scrutiny.

Udo stepped in a little unsure about the situation, looking around. Turner's house didn't seem very out of the ordinary. There was an extensive VHS collection, sports memorabilia, and a glance out of the sliding glass doors revealed five different kind of barbecue grills. It seemed the man had found a comfortable life to retire to. Still, it did not alleviate the anxiety that Udo felt. Was this man qualified to treat Marco? Why had they come here rather than a hospital or the keeper's place?

"Get him down on the bed over there, I'll get some fluids." Turner said. Liam and Kieran grunted as they set Marco carefully down on the bed, panting softly. Despite their new position as alpha of the school pack, Marco was easily larger than them in both height and muscle mass. With Marco settled they reclaimed their breath before Kieran flicked out one of his claws and began cutting Marco's shirt open. As the fabric tore, he pulled it back and revealed his hairy, muscled abdomen.

Udo moved into the room and looked at Marco with concern. He still hadn't woken up. His breathing was obvious, his heart rate okay, but Udo wondered if they had been too late. He wrapped his arms around his stomach with almost nauseating concern. He glanced up as Turner moved into the room, setting down a large pitcher of ice water and four bottles of beer. Udo looked at Turner in shock.

"That's it? Those are the fluids?" Udo asked.

"What were you expecting, Saline?" Turner asked gruffly.

"He's not the doctor, Udo." Liam said softly.

"Doctor Woods from the Echo Creek hospital is on his way... Mister Turner lets us use his house to treat wolves where no one can see." Kieran said. Udo looked a bit stunned at that answer before looking at the veteran. Turner chuckled gently.

"No one's going to question a doctor making a house call to the crazy old vietnam vet, especially with how much money that brings to the hospital." Turner said. Udo shrank back a little before nodding weakly. He felt so far out of his element.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Udo asked.

"You should update the rest of your pack, they'll want to get here to give Marco support." Liam said. Udo nodded weakly at that before he fished into his pocket for his phone. He had no idea how he was going to phrase it for Yom and Fletcher, but they had to know.

****

The rotunda of the Keeper Shrine was vast, taking up most of the first floor. The center of the ceiling was open, leading up the levels of the tower, allowing sunlight to filter in to each level. he light reaching the rotunda itself filtered down through cherry wood ceiling panels and across the vast inlaid floor. Four archways led off to the side chambers and stairways, but the entire space had gradually filled with the visiting keepers from around the world. Only a small gap remained around the heart of the shrine itself, a portion of the wall where a shepherd's staff was mounted in reverence. While it was made out of wood, it almost appeared as if it had been grown into an artificial shape. The top was bent into five perfect sides of an octagon.

"Ren? Ren Sekimori?" A British voice called out among the crowd. Ren turned, following the voice to its source. A twenty eight year old man with curly black hair and green eyes approached, peering through the lenses of perfectly rectangular black frame glasses. He wore a slate gray button up shirt with a black tie and looked fairly damp from the rain. Ren recalled the young man from a summit she had once attended. She dug through her memory for a name.

"Owen?" Ren asked. The man nodded, pleased that such an exalted keeper had remembered his name, though his pleasure faded a bit as the weight of the events came crashing back down on him.

"I am so sorry that it is under these circumstances that I meet you again." he commented. Ren bowed her head gently.

"Likewise." She replied.

"I should make the time to come to your neck of the woods sometime for another lesson, but I've been rather busy... What with werewolves in London and all." Owen said. Ren smiled politely, understanding the reference but not enough to laugh.

"How is your pack? Were any of them harmed?" Ren asked. Owen shook his head, looking relieved at that fact.

"We were one of the lucky ones, but your domain... you oversee so many more wolves." Owen said. Ren opened her mouth to respond, but paused as a keeper emerged from the main entry way, shrouded in blood red robes, his head shaved. Despite his Japanese ancestry he was rather broad shouldered and had a rather imposing figure. He moved to stand in the empty space in front of the shepherd's staff. His mere presence was enough to bring quiet to the rotunda.

"Thank you all for coming such a great distance, especially after what has happened." The man said, his voice filling the space. "For those of you here for the first time, my name is Monk Matano Kosaku. It is the hope of this order to shed light on the tragic attacks, and to build a strategy to continue to keep the secret, and our wolves, safe from the rest of the world." the monk intoned. The words crossed over the crowd. Some received them well, though others looked uncertain.

"Just cut to the chase... Why all at once? What unified the hunters?" A sixteen year old with a shock of orange hair called out. The monk met eyes with the teenager before looking back to the crowd. It was not the head monk, however, that spoke next.

"The hunters somehow became aware of something... something that was spreading around the globe. On every continent, in disjointed werewolf packs... Werewolves are having dreams and visions, often nightmares about a coming darkness." A female monk explained. Her skin was as rich as milk chocolate, her black hair pulled back tight into a ponytail of narrow dreadlocks.

"At first many of us dismissed this phenomenon, but it became prevalent enough that even the hunters took notice. Their fear of the unknown prompted them to act." Kosaku added.

"So they still don't know what the dreams meant?" Another keeper asked.

"I do not believe anyone yet knows. We have spent our lives with werewolves, but their ability to sense oncoming crisis is as alien to us as those of the animal kingdom before a storm or earthquake. With luck, over the coming days, we will reach a consensus over these dreams." Kosaku explained.

"But what are we going to do about the keepers? How do we prevent this from happening again?" Owen called out over the crowd. This time it was the female keeper who met eyes with Owen.

"Our allies in the governments of the European Union, Russia, China, Japan, Australia and North America have classified the hunters as a terrorist group. Using the hunter's own terminology, we have dubbed them the Rising Sun. As we speak, raids are being conducted around the world. The hunters are ill-prepared to defend against police action. Their own arsenals are evidence against them, and their claims of a secret society of werewolves are seen as utter madness." She explained.

"Despite the effectiveness of our gambit, this only reduces the chance of another mass attack. The hunters that elude capture will be more dangerous than ever before. They will feel backed into a corner, persecuted, as if their enemies have triumphed. We will have to be more watchful than ever." Kosaku added.

"We have another threat." Came a deep, reverberating voice crossing the room. The eyes of the crowd were drawn to the source, a tall black man in his mid to late thirties with vibrant orange eyes. Abel looked at the gathered keepers before speaking again, "The hunters have support from a corporation. They are developing more sophisticated weaponry than ever before, and quite possibly... they are working on the curse itself." Abel said. Murmurs broke out across the crowd, keepers sharing their fear sand worries.

"We have many problems ahead of us to face, but we are many and we are gifted." Kosaku said, "We will need to divide our talents and tackle these problems simultaneously. Aziza will be leading those researching the dreams of the wolf packs on the fifth level. Abel, will you share what you have learned on the fourth level?" The monk asked.

"It would be my honor." Abel replied.

"The third level will deal with the continuing threat of the hunters, and the second level will be possible medical and technological safeguards against such attacks. That will leave the rotunda here for the most important mission. These attacks have wounded both us, and our lycan brothers and sisters. The keepers need to have the tools to heal themselves, and to offer that healing to the packs they watch over. Counselors will be here for the next week, ready to help any and every keeper with this task. Please feel free to move between the levels and contribute what you can to each, but let us ensure that each problem is being worked on at all times." Kosaku said.

"May wisdom, insight and peace find us in swiftness." Aziza said, marking the end of the initial speech. The keepers began to file out of the room, heading toward the stairs and the various levels above. Ren remained where she was standing, looking past the head monk, looking at the ancient shepherd's staff beyond.

"As the rest of them look to the future, are you looking to the past?" Owen asked Ren curiously, lingering behind.

"Do you know how many wolves, and even a few keepers, have dreamed of the first Keeper?" Ren asked. Owen turned to look at the staff as well, considering.

"Nyctimus is the most important figure in our heritage, even beyond Lycaon. Werewolves would not exist without him, nor keepers." Owen said. Ren nodded.

"But it's more than that. Even those that never heard the stories, never read the book of Redemption... Even they have seen him." Ren said. Owen looked a bit surprised by that particular chain of thought.

"Are you saying he's working even now to keep the secret, to keep us safe?" Owen asked. Ren continued looking at the staff.

"I am not sure... But I will have to be sure to visit level five and see if anything jumps out at me." Ren said.

"I'm going to start on level three. The hunters are particularly skilled in France and Germany, I need to brush up on evasion techniques." Owen said.

"Take plenty of paper. They are going to cover a lot of content." Ren said. Owen smiled a bit at that and nodded, moving to head for the stairs. Ren, however, remained behind. She looked at those lingering behind in the crowd, those that did not jump at the chance to dive into dreams, or to plan revenge against hungers. She saw those wounded so much by the attacks that they had traveled to Japan and could travel no further. It was those lost souls, those wounded most by the attack that she would see to first.

****

"You've been here before." Artyom's voice reached Marco's awareness, cutting through the fog, the light and the dark, the claustrophobia setting in. Marco opened his eyes slowly to see the darkened forest, the tight knit spring branches. Marco blinked a few times before looking over, inhaling deeply, seeing those vivid turquoise eyes, the tight braided hair and the intent look on his face.

"I don't even know where I am..." Marco said softly, "I feel like I'm sinking in quicksand."

"It's going to be alright... Or you wouldn't be seeing any of this at all." Yom said with a soft smile. Marco looked at him quizzically at that.

"What do you mean?" Marco asked.

"You have to have a future to dream it." Yom replied. With that simple statement Marco started to feel better, something that translated from his sleeping mind to his physical form as his muscles relaxed and his lips curved ever so slightly into the hint of a smile. Across the room, it was enough of a change for Udo to take notice of. His anxiety, his concern, his dread started to soften a bit. He looked at Marco's sleeping form, feeling in their connection that things had just taken a slight turn.

"Four exposure sites... His kidneys and liver are taking the brunt of it, though his lungs are still showing the symptoms of a secondary infection." Doctor Woods commented, even if it was just to himself as he worked. The doctor was only thirty five, but already he had a gray streak in his brown hair. His brown beard was perfectly maintained and offset his grey eyes, though as he had performed surgery Udo could notice the doctor utilizing his enhanced senses.

His touch was precise to identify even the smallest remnants of the bullets, his nose picked up the scent of the poison and the infected flesh, his eyes saw more clearly than a human and he was able to keep track of Marco's vitals with his hearing alone... but after all that work, Doctor Woods was closing up. Marco's remaining wounds had been stitched together before they were bandaged up, the dressings soaked with keeper healing extracts. Udo had to admit, the wrapping job around his ribs looked professional and high quality. It was enough to put him at ease.

"So what is the prognosis?" Liam asked curiously.

"I think he'll make a full recovery, given enough time. He got the bullets out soon enough, his body is processing the poison better than the other victims I've seen." Doctor Woods said. Mister Turner's eyes narrowed at that.

"How many have you seen?" He asked. Doctor Woods looked up at that.

"Twelve from the Denver attack. We lost eight." The doctor said softly. The others in the room were quiet for several moments.

"We'll fight the good fight, we'll survive. We'll get through this." Turner said. Liam nodded at that, and then so did Udo and Kieran, knowing they had to focus on the future rather than dwelling on the past.

****

Silver light spilled in through the narrow windows of the pagoda, filling the fourth level. While the rain still continued to fall outside, it had grown fainter and the sun had started to pierce through the blanket of clouds above. The center of the Keeper shrine was hollow, allowing light to pass down through to the very base. The space around the center was modular in nature with shoji rice paper room dividers designed to segment each floor into many different configurations or to open up to one cavernous space, interrupted only by load bearing columns at even intervals.

Abel had chosen to divide the floor into four quadrants for the duration of his teaching. He sat in one corner on a meditation pillow, projecting images from the hunter's mind that he had seen to a new group of keepers that had come to learn what they could. They watched the guided visions, seeing shady monetary transactions, expensive equipment being assembled, and even hints and rumors of highly experimental chemicals being developed.

Across the way a work space had been set up where the keepers used their laptops and smart phones to investigate Abel's findings, trying to substantiate and identify what forces were behind it all. Another quarter of the space had been set up to record keeping with trained keepers recording the information and then encrypting it all into innocuous news articles and encyclopedia entries. Keeping a written history was difficult, but the ciphers had been quite sophisticated. The history of wolves had been documented for over 2,400 years.

The last portion, as with every floor of the shrine, had been set aside to house the keepers during their stay. Sleeping mats, blankets, tea and food made ready for anyone that needed it. Several keepers were passed out, exhausted from the trip or their travels. As they rested and recovered, they would trade out with others, continuing to advance the research and understanding that they had all come to seek.

The visions Abel projected to his new audience faded and he slowly bent forward, feeling the extreme mental fatigue of neuromancy. He took several breaths and reached for a cool cup of tea, sipping on it before he sat back up again. The elder keeper had given four sessions so far. It would be time for him to rest soon, but he had to give them the tools they would need to continue the search.

"Until now, it had always been the keepers that had the advantage. While the hunters groped around in the dark in petty fear and confusion, we were in positions of financial and social power. Politicians in the various parties, companies to search out the rare herbs and plants we require... But that has changed. There is a company out there developing technology and chemicals specifically targeted at werewolves." Abel said.

"If they have that power and that unity, why is this global attack the first?" A young female keeper from India questioned.

"A very good question, one that needs an answer..." Abel considered, "But it is my belief that they lurk and wait in the shadows until they are stronger. Attempting to expose the secret world of the wolves will bring down our wrath and judgment - just as it did with the supposed Rising Sun terrorist group. They are playing their game as cautiously as they can, but they still have made mistakes."

"And it is up to us to find those mistakes. The lives of everyone we care about is at stake." Ren's voice came from the stairwell. Abel looked over to her and smiled in soft recognition before nodding, looking back at the gathered keepers.

"Keep in mind that this company is targeting werewolves. No matter how secretive they may be, that is to our advantage. We understand the wolves, both their strengths and their weaknesses. Use that. Look for abnormal concentrations of silver, acquisitions of moon stone. Check with our allies for any shortages of __. It will be harder to uncover the technological side. Anything that can affect the enhanced senses of the werewolf could be a risk, but we must find this company and end the threat, we must keep our families safe." Abel said.

With that the keepers got up and moved over toward the research portion of the level, trying to find out how they could help those already working. A few drifted over to the record keeping area and a few, feeling unable to help, headed to the other levels to try and attack a problem they were more suited for. Abel remained sitting where he was, his eyes slowly closing. Ren moved to pick up a tea pot from a warmer and came over, refreshing Abel's drink. Abel smiled a bit at that without opening his eyes.

"I see that your skills of comfort and aid have not faded. Have those seeking solace on the lowest level received what they could?" Abel asked. Ren moved to sit next to Abel.

"From me? I always have more to give... but selfishly I must explore the other levels, learn what I can for the packs in my own area. There are so many wolves I cannot afford to fail." Ren said. Abel nodded gently.

"Including some we both hold dear." Abel said, finally opening his eyes. He reached into his garment and reached deep into a pocket before he drew out a glass vial of a surprisingly intense red powder. It caked up and then fell away, obviously ground to the smallest particles. Normally Ren was able to supress her surprise, but she looked at Abel with complete and utter shock.

"I thought..." she whispered, though words failed her, "The last was used in the dark ages?" She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The last of an ancient gift from the gods, a respite, sanctuary." Abel murmured, "There will come a time when our practice of shielding the wolves from the world, and the world from our wolves will be too dangerous... a time when they cannot afford to transform at all. There is only enough for Artyom and one other, the last that is out there... but I need you to take it, to protect him." Abel said.

"This is too precious, there are so many wol-" Ren was interupted.

"Swear it!" Abel said, his face determined. Ren's face tightened with anger but also understanding.

"I swear." Ren replied gently, taking the vial before sliding it into her best protected pocket. Abel reached for his tea cup, his hand shaking a little as he drained the contents and set the cup back down.

"I need some sleep, it has been too long." Abel murmured softly, pushing himself to his feet, wandering toward the mats on the far side of the room. Ren watched the keeper move, wondering just what secrets he had kept for the wolves all these years.

****

Yom's fingers drummed the door handle of the taxi cab, his fingernails dark brown and worked into claws that etched the cheap plastic. He gazed out of the window at the passing trees, feeling a tightness in his chest. His winter break had been a series of misadventures, from having his flight delayed to taking Seamus to a wilderness preserve with out of town wolves, to the attack on the airports. Even having returned to Echo Creek, he had been met with the news that Marco had been hurt. Heaven and Earth couldn't move fast enough for him to be reunited with his alpha.

Artyom closed his eyes and tipped his head back on the seat, his hair spilling down the head rest to pool against his shoulders. He hadn't been giving it much mind when he was with Marco. He knew from the way his alpha pet his beard and nuzzled his hair that Marco liked it, so all he knew was that he wanted more and more for Marco to love. Meeting with his parents, though, had been a rude awakening. The words still rung in his ears. 'What happened to your accent?' they had asked... and it was true.

Imprinting, even enthrallment. They were words Abel had mentioned growing up, but they had never had a true connection to what Yom had experienced. He had left home for Grand Mesa and Seamus had already been an alpha there. Yom had no desire to challenge the alpha, but he had never felt connected... But with Marco it had been instantaneous. He didn't just like him, he didn't just have a crush, he had NEEDED Marco - enough to stalk him around campus and even kill, as much of a mistake as that had been. It was clear how tightly their bond had grown, but now the idea of Marco being shot by strangers... Yom knew his life would never be the same. Never again would he consent to being separated... and if Marco died, then his choice was clear.

Yom tried to calm his mind after that resolution, relaxing his mental state. He pushed aside the stress of his parents' disappointment, of his older brother's teasing, of his younger brother's incessant questioning and focused only on his own pack, on Marco's well being, on everything working out. Slowly his claws began to retract back into his hand, his fingernails flattening and bleaching back out to a pure white. Yom breathed in and out, continuing to focus and surrender to the purest base matters of his emotions.

He loved Marco, Fletcher and Udo. They were more a family to him than anyone ever would be again. They were connected, they were pieces of a whole, they were his. Marco was his alpha, his lover, his boyfriend, his mate, his equal, his better, his cuddlebunny. A sense of odd, complete contentment began pooling up through Yom's soul. He thought about all Marco had done for him, how Marco had made him a better person. That was all that mattered, and that was how Yom hoped to spend the rest of his life - with Marco helping him to be better and better.

"Are you sure about that address? It's a bit out of the way." The taxi driver said. Yom's eyes slipped open, gazing at the ceiling, but they were no longer brown. For a long moment they were a vibrant turquoise before they faded back to their natural state. Yom lifted his head back up, looking at the driver.

"I'm sure... Trust me, I'll make it worth your time if you don't waste mine." Yom said clearly.

****

Ren trudged up the stairs slowly to the highest level of the pagoda, having visited all the rest. She had conversed with the elder keepers as well as the younger. She had given her sage words of wisdom, shared what contact information she could and she knew her return to Echo Creek would be soon at hand... but there was still one level she had not visited. Slowly Ren ascended into the highest level of the Pagoda, blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted.

Unlike the lower levels of the shrine, the top level had wall panels that retracted, opening up to the landscape beyond. Sunlight streamed from one side of the building through to the other. It was perfect lighting, and Ren now understood why Kosaku had devoted the top level to the dreams. While the problems facing the other keepers could be dealt with using notes, laws, computer code and words... Dreams were more symbolic, more artistic. Aziza's approach had been as well.

Easels had been set up and both canvas and paper were being filled with images. Others sculpted using clay, one even was attempting to capture portions of the dreams with music. Still, the keepers on the fifth level were few. Only those with strong enough neuromancy to tap into the dreams of their wolves had been able to bring the images with them. Ren could only imagine what it would be like to share such an intimate moment with someone else.

Ren moved around the room slowly, looking at what the keepers were creating, wondering just what thread might connect them together. One painting depicted rather vivid violence of the yakuza wolves in Tokyo, another of a scared wolf pup with fur the color of straw. It was clear the emotions ran high, but Ren couldn't see what brought them together, what united them all. She circled and considered, taking it all in before she came to a stop, seeing for the first time something familiar. Sitting in the corner, a young woman was sketching in her notebook. It was the image of a face. A fair chin, good ears, fluffy brown hair and almost elfin cheek bones. Ren moved over and crouched next to the eighteen year old, looking at the image and then at the artist.

"That is very good. What do you call it?" Ren asked. Her heart was tight as she anticipated the answer, trying only to confirm what suspicion was already mounting in her mind. The young woman gave a shy, bashful smile and then a shrug.

"Maybe its the weather outside, but the only word that comes to mind is Rain. I didn't have the dream as many times as my wolves did." She said.

"When you see them next, please ask if rather than Rain... It is Rayne Fletcher." Ren said softly, pulling out a card from her pocket, "If it is, contact me at once." She said.

"You know him?" The woman asked in surprise. Ren looked at the picture, nodding very slowly.

"Not as much as I should..." She murmured.

****

The bus slowed down steadily, its engine humming before the brakes squeaked and brought it to its final stop in the middle of the dense forest land. The door hissed open and Fletcher moved down the steps and walked around the front of the bus to the far side of the road. He looked at the long gravel road heading into the distance before he looked back at the driver. It had taken some convincing to get her to stop at an undesignated stop, but Fletcher gave her a reassuring smile before he started walking along the road. The bus driver lingered a few more moments before the door shut and the bus grudgingly started rolling along again, leaving Fletcher behind.

Fletcher listened to the sounds of the bus disappear into the distance, leaving behind it a void, a gap, an emptiness. After winter break in New York, he was freshly reminded just how still Colorado could be. Once more Fletcher brought his eyes forward and began walking up the long road, the gravel shifting around his brand new sneakers. Fletcher still couldn't believe he was in the middle of nowhere, approaching a house he had never been to... but what worried him most was that he'd never seen Marco so badly hurt.

The news of the airport attacks had struck him hard, harkening back to how scared people had been about terrorists in his earliest childhood. He had been born just before the war on terror began and it had been there his whole life. Rayne had taken it at face value, accepting that it was a world wide group called Rising Sun... But then the texts from Udo had come. Once more the secret world of the werewolves had come flooding out, touching his life in ways he hadn't even anticipated, and once again Fletcher felt... other.

If he had been there, with any of the wolves, he wouldn't have understood the attack. He would have only been able to watch helplessly as people were randomly attacked. He had been safer being a human, but Fletcher didn't want that safety. He wanted that connection, that togetherness. There had to be a way to find out what the bite would do to him, to test for the allergy. Surely the keepers knew a way, but would they keep that from him?

Fletcher continued walking for several minutes down the road, feeling worse and worse about it all. He dwelled on what he had missed, what he could not be part of, what weaknesses he had. Fletcher had brought a hand to his lips and had started nervously chewing his fingernails, wondering if he'd be able to help Marco recover in any way or if he would just be getting in the way. He walked on for what seemed like ever, though something started to catch the edge of Fletcher's awareness.

A sickly warm breeze began to blow through the trees, the branches swaying around. Birds took flight to escape the moving wind. It began whipping around Fletcher and he felt faint, felt like his body was failing and life was draining out of him. Somewhere deep inside a strength filled his limbs, a strength to keep him upright. The black in Fletcher's eyes spilled out and filled them entirely as the color drained from his face, making him look pale and ghostly.

A tongue slipped out of Fletcher's lips and ran along them ever so slowly, tracing a line of saliva on the chapped surface. Nostrils flare and inhaled, taking in the scent. Despite the human's weaker senses, Demeas could still smell it all. He could smell the ferns, the birds, the deer, the raccoons... and he could smell the long forgotten decay of three decades prior. He could smell the hatred and sacrifice.

"This world is so truly small." Demeas words flowed out from Fletcher's mouth. He looked out through the trees, as if trying to pick out the exact spot the supernatural wind had come from. It was as if it was calling to him, trying to draw him in, but it wasn't the right time yet. Demeas had waited so very, very long. His plan was precise. The wolf spirit knew he would return to this spot one day, but only when everything was ready. In the mean time he had to get Fletcher back on track, but he couldn't stand the human's brooding.

Demeas took a step, then another, working up his speed, bringing Fletcher into a sprint. His arms and legs moved with the precision of a werewolf rather than a human. He moved with perfect grace and form, fluid and free. Demeas had forgotten how good it was to run, though he longed to feel the claws push from his fingers, to feel the fur escape from his cheeks, to feel his mouth fill with fangs...

At such high speed, the rest of the run took little time. Demeas spotted the house and aimed Fletcher at it before he slowed down again and released his hold. The black drained from Fletcher's eyes and along with it so too did his memories of what Demeas had just done. Fletcher stumbled over a few stepping stones before he looked around in confusion, realizing how deep in thought he must have been to auto pilot the rest of the walk.

Fletcher moved up toward the front door and reached to knock, but before his fist hit the wood the door opened. A grizzly man peered out at Fletcher, looking him up and down. Fletcher's brows furrowed as he looked up at the man. The two continued to examine each other with curiosity and intrigue, saying nothing for a long moment before Fletcher cracked a grin out of habit.

"You... haven't seen a bunch of college age kids around these parts, have you?" Fletcher asked.

"I see one." Mister Turner replied.

"Yes, but, past tense. Before now, before this moment, have you seen more?" Fletcher asked. The man stared at Fletcher.

"Yes." He replied.

"Thank god..." Fletcher groaned with relief.

"Grand Mesa University's in town... Saw lots of college kids." Turner replied. Fletcher went stone faced at that.

"Okay, so you're a rather literal person..." Fletcher murmured.

"And you're a terrible keeper." Turner said before he grabbed Fletcher by the shoulder and pulled him inside. Fletcher yelped, stumbling across the carpeted living room before he looked up. Udo was standing in the kitchen cutting up summer sausage and cheese, adding them onto a plate with crackers and mustard. Udo looked up and his face brightened as if he had seen the sun come up.

"FLETCH!" he exclaimed, running over. He wrapped his arms around Fletcher and lifted him off the ground. Fletcher coughed and wheezed a bit, feeling like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Udo soon realized what stress he was putting Fletcher under and set him down.

"How's Marco?" Fletch panted, trying to reclaim his breath. Udo's face softened at that and his eyes dropped to the floor.

"He's healing up alright, but he won't wake up. He's in the recovery room." Udo said before turning, leading the way to the room behind the garage.

"This is your pack, right?" Came the gruff voice of Mister Turner. Fletcher turned and looked at the old man curiously.

"Yeah... I mean, they are the wolves, but... we're the group." Fletcher said. Turner chuckled a bit at that.

"You are as much a part of that pack as they are... It's just like the first Keeper. The werewolves were his brothers, his kin. Nothing's changed, as long as you want to keep them safe, as long as you love them." Turner said.

"So on the other side of the door you're all gruff and no nonsense, but in here you're a big old softie?" Fletcher asked. Turner's eyebrow raised.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. As far as anyone knows, the official statement is that I told you to man the fuck up and you thought up all that moosh yourself." Turner said. Fletcher couldn't help but grin softly at that as he resumed his walk toward the door.

"Crazy old man." Fletch whispered, fully aware the older werewolf could hear him as he entered the recovery room. He stepped down half a foot onto the cement floor and moved over to the far side where Marco was laying. Artyom stood on the other side, guarding his alpha as always. Marco looked so peaceful and serene asleep, his torso bandaged and wrapped. Fletcher met eyes with Liam and Kieran briefly.

"Thank you guys for everything you did... Getting him here, looking for him." Fletcher said.

"It's alright, we know you'd do it for us too." Liam said.

"We should give you some privacy. We'll be on the back porch if you need us." Kieran said. Liam looked confused at that before he realized his brother was being the tactful one as usual. The twins moved up out of the room and shut the door behind them. Fletcher reached his hand out and rested it on Marco's, giving it a light squeeze before he looked at Yom and Udo.

"I spent the whole way here freaking out about what happened, what I missed, what I could have done, what I couldn't do... But that's not what Marco would want. Ever since we formed this bond, he's..." Fletcher paused, searching for the words.

"Made us better." Yom said softly. Udo looked at Yom in surprise before nodding eagerly in agreement. Fletcher smiled at that.

"You're right, he has made us better. He's giving us a common purpose, he's brought us together even though that would have seemed impossible before. He made sure Yom wasn't a total ass." Fletcher said. Yom shot Fletcher a play frown but let the human continue. Fletcher looked at Marco, "We're here for you buddy. Just... wake up, your pack is all here. We're waiting for you." Fletcher said.

Yom slowly closed his eyes and reached down, taking Marco's other hand. He held it in his and focused on what Fletcher had said, what he had thought of in the cab. He thought of how much better he was, what he aspired to be, what Marco meant. That strange serenity started to pass over him again and his muscles relaxed. Seeing the change in Yom, Udo reached out to rest his hand on Marco's shoulder and to do the same, concentrating and focusing, cleansing his mind of any distraction.

Somewhere deep down, Fletcher felt the odd constant squirming in his stomach slow down to a stop. It was hard to describe, almost like he'd just stepped into a cleansing shower at the perfect temperature. He breathed in and out, thought of Marco's well being and the love of his pack. He gave up his fear and his doubt and focused instead on the faith that everything would be alright.

Beneath them, Marco's eyes began to flick about beneath their lids. His heart rate increased and his breathing did as well. His blood started to pump, his nostrils flared. He could smell his loved ones, he could feel them touching him, Marco could feel their bond. He breathed in deeper and harder before his eyes snapped open with a gasp, reality crashing in around him. Marco glanced around quickly as if escaping a nightmare or a panic, relaxing when he saw the others, especially Fletcher. Udo and Yom blinked a bit, their eyes gleaming with faint traces of a bright blue coloring before clearing back to normal. Marco and Fletcher, however, were only gazing at each other. The gaze lasted several moments before Marco looked at the others.

"Can we go back home now? I'm tired of this sight seeing thing." Marco said. Fletcher and Udo just chuckled as Yom moved to give his alpha a bear hug.