Prologue 1: Lupus
Sometimes you're the wolf. Sometimes the wolf is you.
You wake with a sunrise, the third this morning, J Street's funny like that; this one's more permanent than most. The air smells different under a real sun. It's warm and comfortable and Eve's wrapped around you and you could almost lie here forever and the day after that but hunger's twitching in your belly and the street vendors are out and, god, fresh ground coffee and hot juicy dogs with all the trimmings, you're practically drooling already.
Yvette growls in her sleep as you uncoil from her embrace and, as soon as you've vacated the bed, rolls over in the heat you left behind. She settles back down, soon making the cutest little snoring noises. It's tempting to jump straight back into bed, but the food instinct over-rules the other. Making as little noise as possible, you grab up some clothes and sneak out into the other room. A sleep-disturbed Eve is not a happy Eve; and an unhappy Eve is something no one wants.
You pull on the pair of leather pants -- dragon hide, specially imported, no scent and oh-so-supple -- and a waistcoat that looks black from one angle and every colour under the sun from another. It contrasts nicely with your short silver fur; helps pick out the underlying shadows of your tattoos. In the hollow of your throat, the cool, deceptively heavy necklace -- never seems to pick up body heat -- catches the light; the mirrored gold dragons seem, for a moment, to writhe and twine around the silver sword.
“Vanity is a sin,” says the mirror.
“Shut up,” you say.
“You're looking pretty fine,” adds the mirror.
You grin at your reflection; your fangs take mischief and turn it delightedly feral. The mirror makes a shivery noise of appreciation. You laugh, already heading out in that effortless loping stride that makes short work of distance, bounding down the stairs from your apartment and out onto the already crowded sidewalk. J Street is a twenty four hour -- city? country? -- and, hell, forty eight hours too sometimes and once, you remember, a lazy Sunday afternoon lasted all week, although that may just have been the two of you--
And the crowds overtake thought. Here's a scuttling cyber-wiener, fresh and meaty and servomotors whirring. Here's an uncomfortably wet smelling squidman trying to sell you “the finest white roses for three hundred blocks”. Here's a group of giggling schoolgirls with pretty yellow gardenias in their hair, wreathed in faint spices, bags swinging haphazardly from casual claws. Here's a smoke ringed teenaged aardvark, selling herself with bored resignation. Here's a late night party animal, staggering home wrapped in the aftermath of beer and curry and faint traces of the dozen sweaty bodies he danced against the night before, the heavy beats still jangling in his nerves. Here's heavy incense and the echo of choirs and a flyer to save his soul and, also, donations most welcome and a God Bless You, Sir for his twenty, stressed capitals and all. Here's a blond striding magician in a swirling trench-coat, dragon claw humming at her throat, surrounded by a cloud of blue-grey pheromones. Here's--
“Clearly you man of distinction!”
You search for the source of the shout and then the man moves and you can see him, a tiny, wrinkled figure draped in yellow and half hidden behind the wheelbarrow that passes for his stall. It's full of tiny shiny trinkets, yellows and white and blue and greys. Pretty little baubles, you suppose. If you like that sort of thing.
“Come see, come see,” says the yellow man, waving urgently.
“What are you selling?” you ask.
“Noticing your most excellent jewelry,” says the yellow man. When you watch his lips closely you can see the syllables he's forming aren't even close to what you're hearing. J Street -- a triumph of universal translation. “By most curious of coincidence, have very similar piece in private collection.”
“Really?” you drawl, showing him your teeth.
“Indeed,” says the yellow man, fishing in his barrow. He pulls out a dark, ornate box, no bigger than the palm of his oddly-long-fingered hand. On its top is -- well, it's certainly the same shape as your necklace, although it doesn't quite catch the light in the same way. The box is certainly attractive but rough under your fingers, the edges not quite planed and the hinges slightly askew. Made in a hurry, you'd guess, but it's heavy the way good wood should be and the clasp seems strong enough and, by the faint tingle in your fingers, at least half silver, which almost makes up for it.
“Twenty dollar!” grins the little yellow man.
“Five,” you say. “And that's generous.”
“Ten,” he says. “Best offer! Best offer!”
You almost give him the box back, but instead pull a ten-note out of your pocket -- keeping the rest of the money carefully out of his sight, you know what these street vendors are like -- and pass it across to him. He takes it, grinning and nodding and even throwing in a bow on occasion.
“Most kind, sir, most kind! Is xiaxio! Luck, yes? Most kind!”
And he bustles off down the road, swaying slightly from side to side and some instinct makes you want to follow him and you step forward right into the most gorgeous scent of frying onions and searing meat. Your nose takes you to a large Italian man in white, standing in the shade of an umbrella and obscured by the heat ripple rising from his mobile grill. Deus Ex Girlfriend are crooning their cover of the Bowie's “The Man Who Sold The World” from the little radio at his feet. You hum along as you wait in line and when you finally make it, you eat the first hot dog right there at the stand it's sooo good, cooked to perfection, baby. To. Perfection.
The second goes down easily, the third is fine, and you buy two more, one for you and one for Eve, and somehow you finish both your and her hotdogs off before you're even quarter of the way home, licking the juices from your claws; scrambling in your pockets for the rest of your money, you bound back to the vendor who chortles and smiles widely at you, raising his arms in welcome.
Sometimes the wolf is you. Sometimes you're the wolf.
Sometimes there's no difference.Prologue 2: Rainfall
The heavy oak door swung inward easily on well-oiled hinges, the only sound it made was the jingling of a string of Victorian sleighbells hung from its inner surface. The shop appeared as it always did, bright and cheery although a bit cluttered. It was always hard to keep ones mind strictly on business when surrounded by so many wonders. The urge to browse was almost overwhelming. So far she had managed to resist the temptation to come here while off duty, much to her credit. She didn't make enough money to be able to indulge herself in a place like this.
The proprietress never looked up from whatever it was she was working on, and when her erstwhile customer reached the counter she could see that the other was engrossed in a well-worn paperback novel. “You really should be more observant. This is a good way to get yourself robbed.”
“I really doubt that, Detective.” The woman still did not look up from her book. “This place has a way of protecting itself. Besides I would have known if your intentions were less than honorable the instant you opened the door.” Jayna stuffed a scrap of paper between the pages of her book and closed it, looking up and smiling. “How have you been Detective Torres? It's been a while.”
“That it has. Maybe we should do something socially sometime. It does seem rather crappy that we only ever see each other when I'm on official business.”
Jayna sat a bit straighter and took on a mock serious look. “Official business? Is the JSPD sending detectives out to check on business permits now, or am I suspected of not paying my fair share of sales tax?”
Torres couldn't help laughing and Jayna smiled and shook her head. “As far as I know you're clean, and we aren't begging for your help today either.” She removed a legal-sized brown envelope from her coat pocket and placed it on the counter between them. Legal finally got Zan's affairs straightened out. All the bills they could find got paid, and there's a bit left over. Since you're the closest thing he had to next of kin it was decided to turn the proceeds over to you.”
“His affairs straightened out...” Jayna sighed. She shook her head again and a look of sadness came over her face. “I'll bet that was quite a job, and I don't want it.” She pushed the envelope back to Torres. “Give it to charity.”
“I can't, the check's made out to you.”
Jayna snatched up the envelope and wrote in block letters on the back PAY TO THE JSPD WIDOWS AND ORPHANS FUND and then signed her name. She then held the check up in front of Torres' face. “Is that good enough?” Torres wasn't certain what she had said or done to upset Jayna or what to do to correct the situation, so she simply took the check and put it back in her pocket.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get you all riled. I actually thought it would be better for me to come here than letting them send over some clerk in a uniform.”
“It's not your fault. I get really angry whenever I think about him. I want to put that part of my life behind me.”
“I wish I could tell you that I understand, but I don't. I've never lost anyone that I was that close to. Maybe you should have taken us up on the offer to help go through his things. It might have given you more of a sense of closure.”
Jayna sighed again and rubbed her eyes. “You have no idea how much I hate the word closure. What the hell is that supposed to mean? That something is over, ended? He's dead. I know that better than anyone else. That has nothing to do with why I'm so angry, and going through his paperwork and computer files for the PD was the single worst thing I could have done to myself.”
“I'm so sorry. I don't understand at all, and it's really none of my business.”
“Are you telling me it's none of your business, or are you saying you don't want to hear it? I'll be honest with you. I'm getting really tired of being treated like a Faberge egg. I got over him being dead a long time ago. Death is easy. Stupidity is harder, especially when it's my own.” Jayna stood up and leaned against the counter. “I'm being an inexcusably terrible hostess. Can you stay a while? I've got a pot of really good coffee and some fresh-baked Danish back here.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Torres took another sip of the steaming brew. This was excellent, light-years better than the sludge they brewed downtown. “He'd skirted the edges of the law for as long as I've been aware of him, but there was never anything we could prove, other than that he knew a lot of questionable characters.”
“I like the way you put that. I'll tell you about questionable characters. I met Zan because the monster that ended up killing him had hired him to steal something from me.”
“You're kidding me, right? You didn't know about that until recently, did you?”
“Oh, no. I've known that from the beginning, more or less. I knew from the start that he was going to be trouble. Every time we got really close he would drop some little bombshell on me that would shake my confidence. I should have gotten the message that it was nothing more than an affair of convenience for him, but somehow I kept managing to delude myself. When I was trying to find him I had to confront a lot of things about him that I had been ignoring.”
“Don't you think you are being a little too hard on yourself? I've seen the two of you together on more than one occasion and you two seemed to be an almost perfect couple. In fact everybody that I've talked to that knew the two of you say that.”
Jayna offered the pot to Torres who accepted another cup. “I’ve heard that some too, but there was one dissenting voice amidst all the praise. Kelegar said something to me that I'll never forget about him. 'He was a pool in the world, broad in scope, but upon further investigation…better yet…a cesspool.'“ Torres began to sputter uncontrollably in an attempt not to shower Jayna with a mouthful of hot coffee.
“Do…not…do...that when I have coffee in my mouth! That sounds just like something that old wreck would say. I hope now that your connection with Zan is severed that the vamps will let you be.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Ravenstrom doesn't seem to be the type to ever forget a contact, especially one with skills he might find useful.” Jayna offered her guest another napkin.
“But back to what I was saying... “He had pretty much moved in with me at the shop, but insisted on keeping his apartment. He said it was so he wouldn't have me disturbed by all the strange calls at all hours and so he wouldn't have to get us involved in any of his stranger cases. It was nothing for him to be off on a case for days or weeks at a time, but just what little digging I did on his computer showed me that a lot of that was just so much bull. There were lots of names and numbers that had nothing to do with his job, porn dialers, websites, downloads. Hell, I even found some stuff that he had written. I don't know if he ever posted it or not, but even if he didn't it was some sick stuff. At best he was a porn addict, a sex addict, and a compulsive liar and that's what got him killed - chasing some tail in another dimension.”
“So you're angry because he was screwing around on you.”
“Nope, I'm angry because I'm afraid that if I had taken the cops up their offer to go through his files I would have spent the time looking for some sign that I'm wrong about him, some inkling that he loved me just a little in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. That is so pathetic, and it makes me sick. I'm beginning to think that somewhere inside I was looking someone to make me swear off these foolish romantic notions once and for all...”
“Maybe you should talk to somebody about this, a counselor or something, work it all out. We have some good people working for the Department.”
“Yea, you do, and I just did. Thanks. I needed that.”Lupus Aureus: Chapter 1
Eww!!! I'm late, it's wet! I'm late, it's wet!! I'm late, it's wet!!! Yeah... It’s raining. It's raining really hard. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was trying to run full speed underwater. I hit a slick spot, slip, and do a face plant. I pull myself back up and start again.
Ouch... I'm hauling tail back to the house for a date with Yvette I'm already late for, I get caught in the rain, and if that isn't bad enough... there's this... artificial, sweet, bad meat smell that just lingers in the air. It was kind of faint at first, it seemed to almost go away and then bang, it started getting stronger as I get closer to my house. I soon see why.
I turn a corner and wind up running into someone with a definite *Squish-thud* Without looking, I begin to apologize profusely to whomever I crashed into. “Oh no!!! I'm so sorry!” I take a breath. Big mistake. The stink from earlier is quite a bit stronger, a lot stronger, the whole of my lungs fills with the unmistakable odor of rotting meat. I open my eyes, wondering why and when I’d closed them.
EWW!!! Mistake number two, I shoulda kept them closed. There is a nasty, bluish, greenish, purplish, grey skinned, slowly moving dead zombie thing with a big dent in it's chest from where I ran into it, not two inches away from me. Way too close for comfort, from this extreme vantage point I can see into the huge, gaping hole in its chest; I can see worms, maggots, and all sorts of other nasty, icky, assorted crawling thingies. I bring my hand up to my face in disgust. I'm gonna lose it. I haven’t eaten since the hotdogs this morning but they are marching up my throat with abandon. I can stand almost anything, this is me, Adam Reilwulf, we're talking about here, but this is making my stomach churn. I turn around and bump into yet another one of them.
I feel cold, wet, slimy fingers come to rest on my shoulder. Oh... YUCK!!! I bring my right leg up and kick out, as hard as I can, into the zombie's chest. Then the worst possible thing happens. My foot gets stuck in its rib cage, about ankle deep, and bugs begin to crawl up my leg. “GET OFF!!!” I spin around, dragging the zombie, kick yet again, and send it flying down the alleyway. It skids to a stop, where its head rolls off, and down the way a bit, revealing some portal haze. Awesome!!! I start toward the portal when my mind clicks the autoplayback button and I find a useful memory.
'Adam... FYI, there are a lot of dead end portals here on J Street...' Jayna said, waving her finger at me, like a teacher trying to explain something to a problem student.
'Dead end? What exactly do you mean by... Dead end?'
Jayna sighed as a hand fell to her hip and the other went to her forehead like she had a headache. 'As in... that other end, it could be in the middle of space, open up into a poisonous atmosphere, the surface of a distant sun... do you get the general idea?'
I froze. I don't very much like the idea of winding up somewhere I don't want to be, and given the choice I'd much rather take care of some stupid zombies... Great. Well, since I'm already late, I might as well... I search for and rip the beast inside me to the surface.
OH!!! TURN IT OFF!!! TURN IT OFF!!! My nose is done for. That uncomfortably nauseating bad meat smell went from bad to OH MY GOD! Rotting flesh, blood, decomposing organs, squishy muscles, floppy eyeballs, and I can smell, hear, and taste all of it... yes, I can taste the smell on the air, and my imagination is filling in the blanks that are better off empty. Eww... this is more than I can handle!!!
I let loose a howl of fury and anger and disgust like no other.
There is a soggy 'squish' to my left, followed by, a flop of nasty zombie bits on the cement below. Thankfully, zombies are very slow and brain-dead, they don't know how to react to a late-for-a-date, pissed off werewolf.
It only takes a few seconds for me to clear a way back out to the main street after tearing a few more zombies limb from limb. That was actually pretty satisfying. I don't think I'll ever get this stink off of me, though! I start into an all out run until another batch of them blocks my way. I let out a long, very frustrated sigh.
What the hell is this? 'Pick on the puppy day?' I proceed to rid my path of its unwanted occupants. I kick one so hard, its head explodes, getting even more over-ripe zombie bits all over me. Oh dammit, Evie’s gonna kill me!!! I move as fast as I possibly can to burn through the mass of corpses to get to my kitten.
An arm drapes across my chest. That smell... that horrible smell fills my nostrils. Out of conditioned reaction, I grab the arm and flip it, along with most of the body of the zombie, over my shoulder, and onto a nearby batch of them, that goes over like ten-pins.
I stand there for a moment, catching my breath. The nauseating odor is finally starting to dissipate somewhat. It seems like I'm a sort of zombie bit magnet. *Squish*
The pile of intestines I had stepped on proves it. Eww! I pull my foot up and look, sure enough; it had oozed between the pads of my feet. I let out a groan and then a resigned sigh.
As I run home, all I can hear is, *Squish, splat, squish, splat* I'm fairly sure it's my over-active imagination, but still! She's gonna kill me if I track this stuff in on the rug! A few minutes later, I 'm home. I walk up to open the door, but someone opens it from inside.
“A~dam... you're la-” She took a sniff, “Eww... What on J Street have you been rolling in?!” She says as she brings a paw up to her nose, “A graveyard?” Her ears flatten back against her head and she gives me one of those impatient whining growls. I hate those growls, it usually means I'm not gonna get any anytime soon.
I just sigh, “Eve... I'm sorry...” I add with a whine, “I'll explain everything in about ten minutes after I'm done showering... Can you go unlock the bathroom window upstairs? I don't wanna trail this through the house...” Yvette turns around and speaks into the house.
“Euraha, can you get the window upstairs please?” She turns back to me and smiles, “She's in a bit of a jam as far as money goes and she offered to help out around here if we could pay her...” She gives me her best equivalent of my ‘sad puppy eyes’. “If it's anything, she's a bit quiet.” She says as she closes the door.
“Yeah, that sounds an awful lot like someone I used to know...” I want to go inside and just, I dunno, shave myself clean or something like that. It's getting harder to breathe as I stand sheathed in the odor of ever-ripening zombie bits. At a noise above me, I look up.
Doe. A deer. A female deer. I'm guessing the name is Euraha... “Ma~ster, it's open!” She says down to me with a huge smile and happy, lively eyes. I nod, jump up to the roof, and walk to the window. “Oh... Miss Yvette didn't tell me you were a wolf sir...” She looks me over with a smile.
Oh... I get it now... she's checking me out... I laugh inwardly as I smile outwardly, “Do you mind if I come inside, shower, and change? I really don't like smelling like this.” I step in, she steps back and giggles. Hey, I'm a happening guy. I don't usually elicit giggles. My confusion must show on my face because she points at the floor. I look down and see what she's giggling at, and why I kept imagining the squishing noises all the way home. I've been trailing a length of intestine like so much wet toilet paper. I flick it out the window without a second glance, trying to maintain what little dignity I have left. As I turn around and bend over to close the window, I hear a sigh. “Euraha, thank you very much, I'll be done in about ten minutes.”
“Yes master.” She smiles. Her eyes, yet again, dart about my wet and stinky body. I give her an odd look; she smiles, laughs, and then starts out.
“Oh, Euraha? My name is Adam. Please don't be so formal around me, I don't mind.” I smile as she steps out of the bathroom and into the hallway. I've had more than enough of the master bit, .and I’ve known her all of what, two minutes?
I turn around and pull my shirt off, I think I feel a paw pass across my tail. I dismiss it and finish pulling the shirt over my head. “Yes... Adam.” She smiles, giggles, mutters something about a 'butt', and then leaves.
I walk over and lock the door. The last thing I need right now is for her to 'Check me out' while I'm showering with Yvette just a bit down the way. That would have really bad consequences for me, like a week on the couch by myself, if I'm lucky. I transform back to human, strip, and then go about cleaning myself. The clothes are just gonna have to be buried in the back yard. About mid-shower, I transform back and shampoo and condition my fur for the night. A knock on the door, I rinse the last of the conditioner out of my fur, I shut off the water and lend an ear to the door. “Yes?”
“Adam, we have about half an hour before those tickets expire, you need to hurry up.” I hear footsteps going down the hallway; they stop, turn around, and then stop in front of the bathroom. Another knock on the door. I leap out, unlock the door, and crack it open.
“Who is it?” I love playing this game.
“Just an innocent little kitten to see a...” She paused, “Are you dry?” Problem... She won't hug me if I'm still wet.
“Hold on...” I quickly shake off, grab a towel, dry myself, and then shake again for good measure. I may look like a drowned rat but... “I'm done.”
“I'm here to see a Mr. Big Bad-” She gets cut off when I yank the door open, grab her around the waist, and tare off into our room viva la nudista. I toss her onto the bed and then let loose a playful growl.
She purrs as she lays across the bed. “Yvette, Stay.” I say, waving a stern finger at her. I turn my back to get dressed, constantly checking over my shoulder to see if she is still there. As I pull my shirt over my head, she is there one moment, and then gone the next. “Kitten?” I let loose a sigh, get my wallet, keys, brush, and whatever I think I'll need and then go down to the living room.
I turn the corner and get thrown onto the couch nearby by Yvette. She makes sure I am seated and then waltzes over and sits across my lap. “Now... I'm gonna go change.” She smiles, “You will stay on the couch,” Baring a claw, she pokes my nose, “Or else.” She gets up and then looks at me, “Stay away from Euraha, just a warning for you...”
I know what she means by that. Like, ugh, I was gonna get one hell of a punishment if I even look at her wrong. It would be a week on the couch alone, by myself, just for starters.
Euraha comes over, sits down beside me, and hugs me. “Thank you very much sir... Adam... You have no idea how much this means to me.” She gives me a sort of slanty look. “Master, if there is ever anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask me.” She pokes my nose, gets up slowly, and then leaves the room.
Okay, I was positive. This is gonna be difficult. This is like some horribly twisted loyalty test. There is a noise from the stairs, I turn and let out a gasp.