“I am alright.” She said, her small form all but vibrating with pique as she stepped closer to him and slid and arm under his leathery wings and around his back. She felt better having touched him, better to feel the very life flowing through his veins. Life that pulsed against her senses and slowly soothed her. “I am just pissed off.”

She leaned her head against him, not bothered by the cool of the evening despite the fact that she wore just a shirt, he provided all the warmth she would need. She swallowed and tried to push back the taste of old wolf and wild from her tongue and was unsuccessful. She turned her head to the side and planted a soft, open mouthed kiss on his bare side, much preferring the brimstone, manly taste of his skin even over the richness of the old wolf’s blood.

“I did not catch the Bastard.” She said and began to hold up the fistful of white fur when he spoke of Veti.

Veti. Veti had been hurt and she hadn’t known, she’d just run through the damn gate and not given it a thought. She had seen the blade in the crone, but she hadn’t thought it had entered Veti. She shook even as he explained to her that Veti was fine, that Thad had helped her. She was a terrible friend, terrible. But then they had each other and didn’t need her and while that didn’t absolve her from being a good friend it meant her failings as a friend weren’t as dire as they might have been.

“I am a lousy friend sometimes Atticus.” She said looking up at him with grave, black eyes as she kissed at his side again, tasting him, promising him with the touch that she would be there for him if he wanted. “But I will do better. I thought only to try to catch the bastard and though I failed in that, I did manage to get this.”

She held up the gleaming fistful of white fur. It caught the moonlight and glowed with soft potential. She did not know too much about magic, but she had been around Max enough to know that such things were useful. At the least Veti could play bloodhound but more than likely Max could wiggle his fingers or something and use the fur to track the being on the other end. Or so Siya hoped, otherwise her abandonment of her friend, several times over would be for naught.

“Do you think Thad will be able to do anything fun with it?”

Zakhar found himself surrounded by an icy knife of frigid air. Around him rose an expansive granite cavern, its craggy surface illuminated dimly in a glacial blue. At his feet were smooth stones that sloped gently to the edges of a small frozen lake, of which the surface reflected as black obsidian. Of sound, nothing but the hollow echo of nothingness reached Zakhar’s ears.

His body set to shivering. Not from the cold, but from the pair of eyes that stared silently back at him. They were eyes of total darkness, like pools of oil in a dark room. None of the ghostly light that illuminated the rest of the cavern reflected in those eyes, as if they sucked it from the very air around them.

The eyes were also massive; set wide apart some twenty feet into the slate-gray face of a giant wolf. Zakhar stood rooted in place, his body shaking ever more violently as his gaze continued to take in the creature that affixed him with its ebony watch. He followed the line of the muzzle down to the large nose, cross-hatched with old cuts and puckered pink scars. The wolf’s mouth was opened into a wide and terrifying maw which was affixed agape by a sword of monumental size, its point pressing into the wolf’s upper gums, while the hilt dug into the space between the lower fangs. Dark rivulets of crimson blood flowed around the weapon, ran down the wolf’s jaw, and across the stony shore before oozing into the frozen black lake.

Continuing back along the wolf’s body, Zakhar say the faint glimmer of a gold chain that wrapped itself tightly against the massive creature’s flesh, and continued on to anchor around a boulder that seemed large enough to be the very root of a mountain.

Zakhar’s observation was interrupted by a loud snort of air from the great wolf’s nostrils. So forceful was the blast that Zakhar had to take a step back to steady himself from falling. As he did, he immediately fell to his knees, bending his white head forward, and pinning back his ears in utter submission.

For a long moment the werewolf knelt there, not daring to look up into the inky eyes of the god-wolf.

Rise, came a voice, thick, forceful, and otherworldly inside of Zakhar’s mind.

The voice in his head startled him, and an involuntary whimper passed Zakhar’s lips as he lifted his head. From his vantage point, the missing front canine tooth of the god-wolf was conspicuous, and a shiver of recognition rippled across Zakar’s white fur.

Upon quaking legs, Zakhar stood. As he did so, he raised his hands, opening the fingers to present the Solas na gelaí to its rightful owner.

Another snort of air came from the god-wolf, and his black eyes widened in surprise. Though the curved piece of bone had shrunk from the time it had been removed, there was no mistaking it. A ripple of triumph washed over the gray coat like a tidal wave, and the cave rumbled with the movement.

Release me! Release me, child!

Zakhar recoiled once more as the voice filled his mind. He did not speak a reply, not trusting his voice in the presence of the Rökkr. Instead he merely bowed his head, and began to walk unsteady steps along the lake shore, towards the wolf’s body, and the golden chain that encircled it.

From the corner of his eye, Zakhar watched the rippling of muscle from beneath the gray fur, and he saw the tremble of flesh with each beat of the god-wolf’s heart. Never in all his life had he felt so small, so insignificant, so totally powerless and afraid.

When he reached the chain, Zakhar stopped. He stood there, shivering with his tail tucked between his legs. With every ounce of his courage, Zakhar willed his hands to move. He reached up, and in one hand he grasped the illustrious golden chain, and in the other he held the tooth of the god-wolf.

As he brought the tooth closer to the chain, he seemed to fight an invisible force, one that tried to repel the approach of the fateful piece of bone. Zakhar strained against this force, his jaws clamping with exertion. He could not fail the god-wolf, not now, not so very close.

With a final mighty effort, Zakhar roared, and thrust the tooth against the chain. Instantly a loud crack echoed in the cavern, and Zakhar was flung backward, skittering upon the surface of the frozen obsidian lake.

Dazed and disoriented, Zakhar looked back to see what was happening, and through the haze of his fuddled mind, he was astounded. The golden chain was unraveling, like so much wispy thread, it fell from about the god-wolf’s body. Another mighty crack of thunder filled the air, and Zakhar shifted to see the sword splinter and shatter within the god-wolf’s mouth.

The whole cavern began to quake then. With shuddering deftness, the god-wolf lifted himself from his stony bed, and bucked against the boulder that had held him. With a lift of his massive head, his black eyes closed just as an ear-splitting howl erupted from his jaws.

Fenris was free.

Orders, good. He could work with orders.

They didn't require thought or question, didn't invite conversation or explanation. Orders were spoken to be acted upon, to be followed, and nothing more.

At the moment, that was all Semyon wanted.

With a nod to Bain, the Wight offered only a brief, anguished glance towards Tamarind and the fallen Werewolf beside her, before turning to the gate. Thadd -it was Thadd, wasn't it?- was beside Tamarind now, tending a wound he hadn't even noticed she suffered, one that likely could have been fatal. A second mistake over the first, too blinded by action to have noticed her injuries sooner. It was a common mistake, the flow of combat often meaning you missed the injured and dying in pursuit of your quarry. Vision narrows with battle, and few can focus on both threats and allies at the same time. That was why you had to trust your comrades, hold faith they would see what you missed, as Thadd had.

The thought was small consolation. Semyon had fought for too long to have made a mistake like that. There had been someone to make up for it this time, but that said nothing of the next.

And to say nothing of the speech he had given the Young Reaper so recently. The sight of her charging into the gate room, and then vanishing completely, had driven a spike of dread through the Wight... and might also have quickened his pace through the waiting portal.

He almost laughed at himself as he stepped through the Shade Gate, the sight of the very circle they had begun these missions from seeming so very fitting to his current mood. Body loosening, he raised his weapon once more to take stock of the area, senses catching Miss Pavlenko's admission that their opponent had gotten away. A flick of his gaze noted the white hairs in her clutch, and it became apparent what a feat that escape truly meant. Beginning at the same point, she had not only beaten him to the gate, but she had also managed to nearly grab a fleeing werewolf who had held the head start.

Semyon watched the ground as he paced and thought, trying to catch sight of anything that might show where their opponent had gone. Tracks from his comrades -including his own- were scattered over the area, time not given the chance to erase them yet. It made any attempt to track difficult, but even still he should have been able to find more than nothing. Even if he hadn't been able to find where their quarry had run off to, he should have found some hint that he had been here in the first place. Nothing presented itself to that effect, not a single fallen hair or fresh print or newly-disturbed ground.

If any of his comrades were better trackers, he would have to ask them to check it over once they came through. But for now, signs pointed that the werewolf who had fled, had not been sent here.

"Atticus, Miss Pavlenko," Completing his circle, Semyon found himself beside the other two who had already gone through the gate, in a conversation of their own. Jumping in was rude, but remaining inactive right now was... not an option.

"I thought our opponent took something before he fled, do either of you know what it might be? Or why-... why only our werewolf comrades were targeted?"

Gabe felt like he was experiencing everything a second out of time, he felt slow. An instant after Gabe reached Semyon’s position the Deadman was already gone, bounding down the hall, reacting to something Gabe was only mildly aware of. There was a flash in the corner of his vision, firey light splashing over the dark corridor and room far off. Gabe sprinted behind Semyon down the hall, he was able to catch up and maintain close proximity despite the Deadman’s head-start. Needless to say, the two humanoid gun-totters were late to the party. A white wolf, as bright as the sun, bounded into a shade gate just as the two came down the last flight of stairs. Gabe stood back as he watched the aftermath unfold. People were crying, people were broken, people were dead. Gabe felt a sudden rupture in his chest, like a heart-cord being plucked. It was a pang of sadness, and then disappointment. His Majesty allowed this to happen, one of his agents was in the vicinity and he still allowed this to happen. Gabe felt the closeness already and he could see the inscrutability of a god, from the perspective of a human. If this is what it felt like to merely attend a terrible event, Gabe could only imagine the pain and desperation of those party to it. Of course, Gabe had felt something like that once.

When Gabriel was called from his frolicking, drawn from the verdant sandy hills of his Majesties domain into the grand icy stonework of his palace. When Gabe was told his connection to paradise would be severed, perhaps never to be seen again, at least not in any time that was worth waiting for, Gabe felt what might be considered ontological loss. When he was tossed into the freezing portal, and gently rested on earth, as if he’d always been there, and he no longer felt the immanent presence of his lord, Gabe grieved.

But, this was different. The angel followed slowly behind Semyon, he stood next to the men he knew to be Bain & Hoyle, and they demonstrated their close friendship now, as one tried to save the other. Gabe didn’t really know how to approach but he felt like he should, at the very least, announce his presence. Gabe awkwardly shuffled his feet for a few moments then cleared his throat.

“Mr. Bain, sir, Gabriel Lykis, reporting for duty.” Gabriel saluted for a moment then relaxed his body. He looked at the gate and figured he should get going. “Gouh—hmm—Good-luck, sir.” And with that awkward display Gabriel was enveloped by the gate, swallowed into the stringy insides of the ether and then spit out on the other side.

Gabe couldn’t tell where they were, he was zapped uncomfortably close to the man who seemed to be giving all of the orders—Atticus, if Gabe remembered his debriefing with Jerusha correctly. A few paces away Gabe could make out Semyon’s form. The Deadman made inquiries and Gabe spoke up, feeling that was preferable to standing quietly in the dark.

“I imagine they had something of value, something dangerous. That’s why we were retreating, right? Well, I can’t speak to what the object was or why the wolf needed it, but if I’m right about what these shade gates are capable of, we don’t have much time. Am I right?” Gabe found a comfortable stone platform to sit on, and did. He faced the two love birds and opened his palm to them, inviting their input.

In a blur Siya had been through the shade gates after the white wolf; and the look in Thad's eyes, the cant of his frown said he had nothing to tell her regarding the whereabouts of the Reaper. But Veti needed no explanation at all for Reginald Hoyle as the elder werewolf's desolate howl chilled her, an icy spear of despair racing up her spine, setting her hair on end and her teeth on edge, his agony echoing in her skull.

The ceaseless explosions overhead continued to reverberate through the ancient stones, the keep shuddering all about them. She slipped from her lover's arms, a wordless understanding passing between them as Bain shouted for the group to head through the shade gate; to retrieve a tooth - stolen from the slain Aislinn, it must have been - and end the threat of Ragnarök.

Swiftly Veti reached to cradle Thad's face with her hand, fingertips and thumbs gently tracing the golden lines of cheek and and jaw and lips, just as she had when she once searched Max's visage. "I love you," she whispered, and with a soft kiss promised she would follow right after through the shade gate, after her lover and Atticus and all their team. She simply needed this moment here.

In the seconds she turned from Thad as he moved through the Shade Gate, the crimson wolf came over the woman once more as she dropped to her knees, falling beside the old werewolf where he lay. With only a single beseeching glance to the ancient vampire beside him, begging for just a moment's more patience, Veti gently, so lovingly, collected Reginald in her arms from the floor. The searing pain that lanced through her chest mattered for nothing, not a single damn thing. It would never match the torment the venerable werewolf suffered now, she knew.

All too well.

She said not a word, her embrace not asking a single thing of a grieving brother riven by the murder of the only family he had left in this world. One arm wrapped about Reginald's thick chest, the other about his shoulder, his whole body still shuddering with sobs. Veti's ebony-clawed hand cradled the back of his great head as she squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering softly as she laid her maw against his.

But tear-rimmed amber eyes snapped open when Reginald's strong arms wrapped around her, returning her embrace and pulling her close, so tightly. Her ear flicked forward as she felt his maw rise against the shorthairs of her head, the elder wolf's hot breath warming her tender flesh as he spoke.

The old wolf's voice was thick with heartache and tears, guttural and rough but somehow still steady. "I cannot follow, Victoria. Not now. Not like this." He pulled back from her, just enough to meet the crimson wolf's gaze with his own. The weight of all his long years, his monstrous grief, seemed etched into the depths of his amber eyes.

"You will find him, the one who did this to... To her. To Aislinn." Veti thought for one brief instant his voice might crack, speaking that beloved name here by her lifeless body. But the last of the Teachglach Mac Tíre, the most powerful werewolf left in this world, would not be broken. He reached for Veti's head with both his clawed hands, a ferocity blazing across his face the likes of which she had never seen - could have never imagined - of Reginald Hoyle before this moment.

"And when you do, you will exact every ounce of vengeance her name deserves."

This was no request.

"It will be done," she growled. There was nothing more she needed to say, no more promise or oath to be made that those four words did not swear, before the only werewolf in this world she would follow through the very gates of Hell. Veti 's eyes closed as she leaned to rest her head against his for just a moment longer, and then stood to her feet, turning to sprint through the shade gate.

**********

Ardgroom.

Veti almost reeled backward in shock. There was no gathering of werewolves here now, no bonfire. Only her friends, her loved ones and teammates - and it seemed this ancient stone circle was fated to be the beginning and end of this day.

Even as she arrived among the group: Jay-Jay was quickly left behind. Everything was moving so damn quickly and she had no idea what was going on. Trailing at the back of the group was all she could do as everyone surged ahead. She followed, of course. One eye trailed behind them and ready to lash out, should anyone or anything attempt to follow them.

“This isn’t how I imagined it all…” She spoke to no one in particular as she descended the stairs and came in view of the shade gate. The scene was one of carnage: Siya launching herself through the gate and everyone running towards Veti and the other, larger werewolf. Everything was moving so far ahead and so quickly for the already disadvantaged Jay-Jay. She hadn’t even talked to the bosses since she arrived at the castle, and now she was trailing behind them: trying desperately not to get in the way or cause more trouble as she stumbled through the darkness of ignorance.

Eventually she settled next to Bain and Hoyle, unsure of whether she should follow up on her offer of cauterising the wound of the lycanthropic boss. Considering all that was going on, it hardly seemed the time or place to set fire to him, so she elected to instead follow the Vampire’s order of ‘get through the shade gate.’ Looking back on the scene of Veti and the larger werewolf, Jay-Jay moved through the gate, leaving Veti to the last. The feeling of powerless-ness returned, threatening to swallow her in a despairing loss…She needed a coffee.

[*]---[*]

Stepping through the gate planted the Firebrand…somewhere? She wasn’t sure where on earth they had landed, but at least it was away from the stones and the werewolves that seemed to bring such sadness. She hadn’t remembered the mission being quite so tragic last time. Then again, she had hardly been the deciding factor of the last mission at all. This was meant to be the time that Jay-Jay did…well…anything.

Yet here she was, once again the clueless child, stumbling in the dark. She didn’t even get time to gawk at Atticus or Henry for that long, and now was not the time to be in any more powerful a mood than confused sadness.

She listened in as the strange master of giving-her-demon-the-heebie-jeebies who looked like just a normal guy…Gabe or something was it? She’d overheard the name at least once. Listening to him speak let her know that someone else was in the dark, just like her. That at least gave Jay-Jay some sort of confidence to actually speak.

“Right, so if they took this…whatever-it-was, we should track them down right?” She paused for a second as she realised that she’d said quite possibly the stupidest thing ever. Captain Obvious points for Jay-Jay, it seemed. “Do we have anything from the guy who took it? I can probably whip up a scrying spell real quick. They aren’t too complicated, assuming there is a catalyst.” This time at least, she hadn’t said anything stupidly obvious: and hell, it was a useful suggestion.

Looking around the group, stuck in a freeze frame as she waited for someone to either call her a genius or a moron, she realised they were still missing a number of people: Henry and Daisy, as well as the two bosses. Where the hell were they?

Chaos. Glas shard lying spread across the floor like some sort of reflection of the state Henrys mind currently were experiencing. The angel had felled one attacker and they had startred to evacuate. They moved trough rain, Veti carrying the wounded Aislinn with her towards the shade gate. Henry looked around, drawing upon all his senses, magical and otherwise, to find where exactly what was going on. As they began to make their escape, he remembered his violin briefly, and headed off to collect it. He needed some form of weapon, wherever they were going after all. Grabbing it by its neck e put it under his arm and stormed back to where the others were.

Iike many times in his life, Henry was late. A white wolf, huge and hulkingm had waited for them. The leader if Henry were to guess. A blade slid into the back of Aislinn with ease and cut her life short. Gods, it was as if he cut trough butter, the blade just parting the tendons, flesh and skin of her back up like a christmas turkey. Henrys eyes wided in shock as the White wolf lept trough the Shadgate quickly, clearly done with his awfull work. The tiny petite package of death that was Siya soon followed in furius pursuit after him but Henry doubted she would catch him. Not that he doubted her speed or powers, but becouse everything was coming apart in the seams. Henry ran over only to see the last of the great wolfmothers life leave her and he felt something cold came over him. He stared at the lifeless body, saw Veti cling to Thad. Saw the absolute grief in the eyes of Hoyle, who had offered him a home once. His fists clenched hard enough for his nails to dig trough the skin of his palm and the strings on his violing to cut into the fingers of his other hand. Red droplets slowly dripped down the strings of the instrument only to get sucked into the infernal thing. The thing drank heavily from the sorrow in the room, swelling in power.

“We will avenge her. I stake my life on it Hoyle.” The Sirens voice was clear, his face without any emotion. Like a blank slate, he was talking in monotone. He turned to the shade gate and stepped closer to it. He seemed to stare at the cold void of the Shadegate for what felt like forever before he turned back to the howling, griefstricken werewolf and the tone in his voice shifted to the coldest, most inhuman sound to ever leave his lips. “I’ll kill them all. Every single fae, werewolf and being who she ever commanded. I’ll kill every one of them. I’ll end this. But remember, you wanted revenge. Cling to it. Love will become hate. Sorrow will become anger. The foe we face now, she sits on all the cards. We might not survive. But I swear, one way or another, I will have vengence. For your sister, for my wife. For every life she claimed and will claim. I stake my very existence on it.”

And then he stepped inside the shade gate and let the powers fueling it grip at him. As he came out on the other side he looked over their motley crew. Henry looked to the demonic tool he had opted to use and then to the others. He could feel it in the air. This was different from the fight with the vampires. There was so much hatred, so much anger, so much grief. His violin seemed to drink it in, the demonic magic inside it soaking it all up. Good, he would need every bit of it for their upcoming battle. Still uncharacteristically silent, he leaned onto one of the stones and waited.

A Reaper knew the treacherous eddies of Death like the back of her hand, but today, they seemed colder, more cunning than usual. Daisy told herself it was just exhaustion, the fact that she had been here already, yanking souls through from life, handfuls at a time. A quick glance told her most of her former attackers had moved on, dragged away by the water, or perhaps just a grief all their own.

She felt Aislinn before she saw her, as was the case with all such venerable souls. Still, she was nearly upon the werewolf before she could convince herself of what had really happened.

Daisy approached carefully. Dead she may be, but she was also her employer's sister, and Daisy was not keen to get fired now. Not if Veti really was okay. She didn't think Aislinn would try to hurt her, but Daisy had been wrong many, many times before.

"You're Bossman's sister," she said abruptly, drawing a cone of silence around the ancient wolf. She was too far gone for Daisy to bring her back, but she would not have to succumb to Death's pull yet. Not if Daisy could help it. "I...mean Aislinn," she corrected after a moment.

"I thought...my frien--er...Veti. I thought she was...but...it's you. Um. Sorry."

The old wolf looked up to Daisy. She regarded the reaper with the same innocent curiosity that had been her hallmark in life, and her spirit form nodded sagely.

“It is not so tragic a thing,” Aislinn said, “Death I mean. Though I only just met its embrace, there is something freeing about it…” she paused to cant her head, as if listening to something far off, “…especially now knowing that your friend, and my packmate,” Aislinn added with a wolfen smile, “will see another moonrise.”

Aislinn’s wispy form shrugged, and her great werewolf body shook like a dog just coming from the rain. She regarded the pink-haired reaper as she finished.

“So, tell me, what now? Where do you take me? I have always enjoyed adventures, and I suppose truly that this shall be my last.”

She smiled again, waiting with hopeful eyes for what would come.

Daisy stared at the wolf for far longer than what was polite, especially considering her age and importance and all that. But it was far preferable -- at least in terms of reputability -- to the other thing she'd been about to do: smile.

She wanted to say something along the lines of, "For being related to Boss Man Wolf, you're not so bad." She decided against it. For all she knew, they might be that last kind words Aislinn ever heard, and even if Daisy didn't care much for politeness, she liked Veti, and she knew what the old wolf meant to her.

"I wish I could say," Daisy offered instead. "I dunno. They don't tell us that part. Guess it's supposed to be a surprise for us, too." She shrugged and started walking with no real apparent direction, though the young Reaper knew precisely where she was headed. Or as much as she could, anyway.

Aislinn regarded the reaper, disappointment evident upon her face.

“I see,” she said. “I suppose that the cosmos reserves that knowledge for those that have earned the right to make the journey. Fitting, I suppose.”

Something about the phrase "earned the right to make the journey" felt jarring, almost hurtful, but Daisy said nothing. All living beings, she had learned, had an obsession, for better or worse, with Death. Best not to spoil things at the last. There was an awkward silence for a moment, then Daisy continued on a whim.

"I brought another werewolf here once," she said idly, finding Aislinn's nature made her remarkably easy to talk to, even for Daisy. Even after she'd thought Veti was...but she wasn't. So it didn't matter.

"A year ago. He was Veti's friend, too. But he stabbed her, so he...y'know, he had to go." Daisy made a face. "Veti gets stabbed a lot. Or twice since I've known her. But that's, like, two more times than I've ever been stabbed."

She glanced at the wolf and might have blushed if she'd been human. Instead, she chewed her lip and pointed up ahead where a veil of fog and mist seemed to have risen from nowhere, a waterfall that seemed to fall upward and disappear into a haze of sepia-gray.

"That's your last stop," she said. "I can only take you as far as that. But I can make it easy...well, easier for you. Warmer, at least." She pasued awkwardly, trying to figure out how to word the next part.

The werewolf turned to look at the strange cascade of reddish-brown fog. Even for a creature that had seen several century’s worth of strange and otherworldly things, the fog was unsettling in a way Aislinn could not explain. She felt equal parts excitement and regret as she looked to it, feeling ultimately that this truly was the final step, the last moment in time that she could possess any connection with her time among the realm of the living.

"I...um...know...I mean...Veti," Daisy offered, staring at her feet. "And...and maybe Atticus. Boss Man Vampire...and...uh...your brother...I can...I mean, if you wanted...to...y'know, say something...I could...I could tell them for you. If you want."

When the reaper offered Aislinn the last gift she could give, the werewolf turned to her with ghostly tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

“I would…I would very much appreciate that.” Aislinn choked.

"Right, so -- " Daisy started awkwardly, half turning back toward the gate, then Aislinn. And then she stopped. Aislinn was crying. And Daisy was undone. She had had this conversation more times than she could count. And yet this one unnerved her for some reason. Perhaps it was only the knowledge that for once, she would be returning to the other side to pass on these futile condolences. And not just to anyone. To Veti. Again.

For a time Aislinn merely silently cried, her spirit-mind reeling with just what to say to the few that she loved enough to grant her final words. Her eyes fell to look at her fingers, spectral and pale in this strange realm of limbo. She clenched them and brushed the tips of them together, and a sob shook her as she felt nothing. Her mood, so genial and optimistic just a moment ago was dashed by the sinking reality of what lie ahead, and what she had been forced to leave behind.

Daisy waited while the werewolf settled herself, her own senses extending in every direction as she did, keenly aware that it would not do to tell Reginald Hoyle his sister's soul had been hijacked. And when at last she spoke, Daisy poured herself into memorizing every word, every instant of punctuation, the gentle cadences of the werewolf's backwards eulogy, her parting words to those she left behind.

“Tell Reginald,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper. “Tell Reginald that all his life he has done right by me. More than the bond of our blood ever required. Tell him I love him.”

Aislinn looked back into the reaper’s eyes. “For Victoria, tell her that though I barely knew her, that in my heart of hearts she was my sister. My packmate. My blood. In all my life I only ever had Reginald,” she smiled then, tears of joy now running across the soft fur of her face, “and she granted me that chance to belong to another of my own. Tell her that she gave me the greatest gift I have ever received.”

With tears still running from her eyes, Aislinn grew silent. Her gaze steeled to one of quiet resignation, and she lifted a hand to the reaper.

“I thank you, for all of your kindness. I am ready. Lead on.”

Daisy nodded once and took her hand and the two started toward the wall of mist.

"You shouldn't thank me," she said quietly.

Aislinn frowned at little, slightly taken aback by the reaper's words as she took her hand. She said nothing in response however, as the inquiry seemed as unnecessary as it was futile. This was truly the end, and whatever came beyond this period of brief purgatory would be soon at hand.

She allowed the reaper to lead her forward, and Aislinn watched with wide eyes as the ghostly wall soon dominated the whole of her vision. Tendrils of mist touched her flesh, and she thought that it surely must be cold, but again no sensation came to pucker her skin. A shiver coursed over her body nonetheless, and Aislinn gave the reaper's hand and hard squeeze.

Now the mist enveloped the whole of her. Her eyes knew only the sepia swirl that had become her world, and with a thought that came like a hazy memory, Aislinn looked down to see that the reaper no longer gripped her hand. With a strange and warming calm she turned about in place, realizing with the same detachment as the previous thought that this sense must be the final gift of the reaper. She smiled then, relishing this last piece of kindness she would ever know like the fading face of Mother Moon as the Sun came to obscure her silvery light.

She looked upward into the mist, and with the smile etched upon her woflen face, Aislinn Hoyle stepped forward into arms of oblivion, and she knew no more.

--

The trip back was quick, uneventful. It had to be. Artie was pissed and Daisy was tired, and saying goodbye -- had she ever even said it? Those actual words? -- to Aislinn had been...Daisy was ready for sunlight again, even if she couldn't feel it's warmth.

By the time she reached what was left of the London quarters, it was only Boss Man and his sister. Or what was left of her. She could still feel a seething rage rolling off Artie, but he had reduced himself out of respect, a small black vulpine thing waiting patiently for its keeper at the edge of the shade gate. Daisy silenced his advances with a look before carefully, quietly, as reverently as she could, approaching the grieving wolf.

"I...Mr...um..." Daisy stopped herself and took what would have amounted to a deep breath if she were alive. There was a time, she knew, to be petty and childish and uncertain, and Daisy was not the last of these on her best days. The wolf deserved a fitting goodbye, free of sarcasm and teenaged nuances.

"I...found your sister. I went after her. I thought...it doesn't matter. But you should know she went safely. She's happy. Or...she's content. And she wanted me to tell you...she said...you always did right by her. More than she thought she deserved. She said she loves you."

She left it there a moment, a cheaper paraphrase of words she could never in a hundred years hope to duplicate. And she started to leave the wolf to himself, to follow the others and give him the time she knew he wanted alone.

But she stopped herself again, this time, quieter, careful. As young and innocent, perhaps, as Daisy had ever been.

"Mr. Hoyle?" she started, not quite making eye contact. "I...I've been doing this a long time. Or I think I have, it's hard to know sometimes, and...uh. Never mind. I just mean...I've seen a lot of people go through those gates. Humans and werewolves and vampires. That thing...what they say in the movies, about people showing who they really are in their last moments...it's truer than most mortal creatures know. And Aislinn..." Daisy shrugged, awkward, helpless.

"I just thought you might want to know she saw you. I won't say I'm sorry for you loss. That makes it sound like someone stole your bike, instead of...instead of her. So, I'll just say that. She saw you."

And then she stepped backwards through the gate and was gone.

Thad stepped through the gate feeling the slight churning roll of his stomach and found himself among the old stones standing powerful and compelling. He took a few steps away toward Siya. He wasn’t sure she would notice him as her eyes were set to Atticus, so much can change in a year. He could easily see a longing in her eyes so different than the one he left her with before he died. Before time spilled past him. Yet what was time to her? It was a change in her eyes.

He kept moving toward Siya because it seemed that’s where he should be as both of them wait for Veti. Veti told him to go and he had. It wasn’t until he turned to the gate that he felt the roll of his insides change to a tight grip. He left her . She wasn’t the next to step through. His eyes squinted and his hand tightened into a fist by his side. Thad watched the gate.

The new guy came into the circle and he seem easy but then who the hell was he? He didn’t know them. He was the only one who took all of this as some classroom assignment. He was the one who would get a good grade and then just move on, graduate to something else. Go ahead. Thad couldn’t think of anything to say to him but then Thad had never been the type to sit at the front of the class. He would just stay by Siya.

He would wait for Veti.

The fire spitting chick came through. She was saying something about following someone and Thad had to admit he had no idea of the mission, or the reason for the attack really. Someone took something from someone and the world would end. What the fuck else was new? Things were heavy, eyes were low and sadness dripped from each of these professionals like rain from the water proof slickers.

But where was Veti?

Thad felt the fear seep into him as he stood beside Siya and watched the gate. He could hear the splash of Max inside letting him feel the cold grip of a different door, the one back to death, the one with a wetness unlike anything he would ever feel here, one that had dim strand of pink hair that didn’t brighten the place at all but sort of added a creepy sick used sticky cotton candy.

He watched the gate open again and Henry came through standing in a very cold stiff way as if he was frozen but he wasn’t. His face looked like fire and ice, hard and set but hot. Thad shifted finding it hard to stay still with a nervousness that was gathering those dreaed rush waters of fear.

Where was Veti?

Thad had to turn to Siya as his stomach tightened into a knot and worked its way down to his hands. “If she doesn’t come through right now, I am going back to get her.” He didn’t have to say more. He didn’t have to explain. He didn’t need the argument of how he would navigate the gate or to have patience.

Just as he was about to explode, Veti stepped through. Thad let his fingers uncurl. He saw the death hound and his side kick come through right behind. That didn't feel so good. He didn't want doom door dame beside his love. She should be just guarding that damn gate. Not this one. The other one. Whatever. He took a breath and looked to Siya. He didn’t run to Veti afraid that his fear would make him yell and cry and howl and carry on. Instead he looked to Siya and smiled a sly very Max like grin. “I never doubted.”

Atticus returned Siya’s embrace, holding her close with a red arm and a gentle wrap of his long tail. Her natural accent was augmented with frustration, and even the petite vampire was only draped in his discarded dress shirt, Atticus thought she looked no less the formidable predator.

“I am glad you’re alright, but Siya, you are not a bad friend.”

He reached down to encircle her hand that held the white fur in his own. The clump of pearl-white hair was nothing in itself fascinating, but its potential brought a slight curl to Atticus’ lips.

“Veti would’ve wanted you to go after the white-wolf, and unless we’re both mistaken, Thad can make hay with this.”

Atticus used the tip of his tail to lift Siya’s chin, and he kissed her gently. He swore he could taste the blood of Reginald Hoyle upon her lips, and he stifled a shudder. The lingering bite of iron and musk brought the gravity of all that had just taken place come starkly into focus. Zakhar had just escaped with the key to the release of a major god of destruction, and Atticus couldn’t begin to fathom all the terrible tidings that would bring upon both the realm of man and the Veiled World alike. If the late Aislinn Hoyle had been correct, it would start a bastardization of the end of times, Ragnarök. At this notion, Atticus did shudder.

His brief moment alone with Siya ended abruptly with Semyon entering the stone circle, followed closely by the angelic man he had seen help kill one of the assassin-wolfs moments ago. Gabe, if Atticus recalled correctly. As Atticus began to respond, the others followed in quick succession through the shade gate, until the rip in space-time collapsed with only a lilting puff of smoke to mark where it had stood.

Atticus unfurled his tail from Siya so he could face the group, but he did not move away from her.

“The white-wolf took the Solas Na Gelaí, an artifact made from the canine of the Norse god Fenris. It was an object that Reginald Hoyle’s clan, the Teachglach Mac Tire, had kept safe as a totem for thousands of years. Though I cannot say exactly how, Aislinn Hoyle envisioned that with the Solas Na Gelaí a white-wolf would break the bonds that held Fenris, and thusly allow the god-wolf to be freed to bring about Ragnarök.”

Atticus let out a long sigh before looking down to indicate the tuft of white fur that Siya held clutched in her hand. “It appears that everything Aislinn prophesized is coming true.”

He looked about the circle, his eyes drifting between the menagerie of creatures. “I am no magician of diviner, but we have the fucking assassin’s hair. Between the lot of us, I know we have the means to track him and follow him. The faster the better...”Atticus’ face soured, “I don’t really want to try and put a god-wolf back into his cage.”

“Ideas, anyone?” He cast his gaze first to Thad, and then to Jay-Jay. Atticus found Henry next, leaning against one of the stones. “Henry, you’re in tune with that realm. If the white-wolf succeeds, can Fenris be bound again? Killed?”

She liked his kiss and she liked his closeness. She beamed up at him, wrinkling her pert nose at him to convey her quiet delight in his sweet words of comfort. She didn’t even pout when he unwrapped his tail from around her, Vampires didn’t pout after all. It was then that some of their team slipped through the gate, Mr. Makarov first, his pale face tight with concern and urgency as he spoke his question. A pretty faced boy she had not met yet came next and offered his suggestion. She eyed him, tilting her head to the side as she regarded him, her eyes still flooded with black. He was something, something new and though she couldn’t place it, her fangs tingled just a bit, an embarrassing and troubling reaction that she quickly brushed aside as Thad stepped through.

She nodded in relief as he moved towards her, if Thad was there and not looking half-mad with grief then Veti was fine. When he stood beside her and whispered his tight, worried words she slipped her other arm around him, the hand with the tuft of fur incidentally, pulling him in tight so that she was sandwiched between the two men she adored the most in the world. She was dwarfed between them, demon and Warlock, though she did not feel small at all just then. When Veti stepped through a moment later she felt as large and as powerful as the avatar of Isis had been. Her whole world was right, everyone she cared about was there. Yes, maybe it was about to end, but just for a moment all was right.

She looked past them and noted Henry and an old associate of theirs whose name was slow to come to her mind in the moment. As her eyes bled from black to their normal pale shade it came to her. JayJay or something like that. She nodded at them and as Atticus spoke of it she held her prize, the tuft of white hair up for Thad to take.

“A present for you.” She said, her words thick and rich with accent. “I did not get the bastard, he did not go through as I did, or maybe he did, I don’t know. There was green energy fading from the stones as I came through. But then I don’t know what that means. I leave that to you sorts.” She spoke towards Jayjay, including her as Atticus had but she looked towards Thad. She wrinkled her nose impishly at him and let her arm slide off his side once he had taken the fur, relinquishing him to Veti or Jayjay or what have you.

“If you can track him somehow I can maybe get us there fast.” She shrugged and kept her hold on Atticus.

Daisy rejoined her living friends just as Tiny Vamp -- somehow glowing like a fucking sunbeam, all brooding aside -- suggested tracking something somewhere. The Reaper could only assume. that meant the fucker who'd stabbed Veti had gotten away then. Probably just as well. She was pretty sure she'd have yanked his soul so fast, his ears would spin, and she wasn't sure how much more Death -- big D and little d both -- she could handle today.

She felt...tired. And sad. But more than that. Heavy. Like if she let herself, she could just sink through the earth and keep going, right on through whatever continent mirrored them on the other side of the planet, out into the stars beyond and wherever the hell she went from there. If she closed her eyes, she could see a tiny, ethereal Daisy, floating up from the earth, heels first, maybe content, maybe warm, maybe finally sure of something.

But probably not.

Tucked in the crook of her arm, Artie yapped quiet assent -- Veti was, indeed, alive, which was all the permission Daisy needed to put her back to a stone, somewhere just off the circle, careful not to repeat Veti's mistake. She slid down til her knees were against her chest, and just stayed there for a second, breathing, or something. Whatever the Reaper equivalent was.

In her mind, she could hear the ghostly growls of the werewolves she'd sentenced to premature Death. If she were lucky, they'd all been carried beyond the Gates. If not...well, at least she'd gotten Aislinn past any trouble. It almost made her smile to think of the old wolf teaching the Russian puppies a thing or two. And then her eyes found the empty mouth of the Shade Gate where Boss Man Wolf had yet to emerge. She stared at it until her eyes hurt, willing herself to move, finding herself not quite able.

It was Tiny Vamp's question that finally made her stand, slow enough she probably could have stared in her own arthritis commercial. She let Artie hop to the ground beside her where he immediately, helpfully-ly-ish, assumed the form of a large black bloodhound.

"Artie can track, too," she said in a stoic monotone. She looked at Jay-Jay, expression blank. "If you can get us close, he can takeover the rest."

Then she moved past, to Veti, ignoring Thad completely, vaguely afraid she would punch him in the face if she stopped to chat. Where the hell had he been when Veti was getting pin-cushioned?

There was an intriguing patch of empty space beside the shewolf's head. Daisy watched it as she spoke.

"Aislinn likes you," she said slowly. "Liked you. She says she's...glad it was her, and not you. She said.." Daisy paused, recalled, paraphrased. "She said you were like a sister to her." Now the Reaper did meet Veti's eyes. "She's okay now. She's safe."

”A way to kill fenrir, the god wolf?” Henry leaned onto the rock still. His eyes downcast in silent contemplationn.

”There is always ways to kill things, even the gods themselves Atticus. They just take unwavering resolve, total disrespects for life itself and a death wish.” His voice didn't waver, it was flat, toneless and utterly serious. He seemed deep in thought, racking his brain for possible solutions.He thought back to every lecture he had taken on the subject of Norse myth. On every discussion with the fae back home. It all came back to Ragnarok. It all came back to how they killed beast in the stories. It was always Odins son, using his mighty spear. Always a savage battle to death. He could only see Aislinns face, no he saw someone else. A a gorgeous pale and black haired woman slowly withering away in his arms. He saw those eyes again, flickering and slowly draining before becoming empty black orbs void of life. He made his decision then.

”The spear of Odins Son...Víðarr..” He spoke up, mainly to himself still but growing a bit more animated. ”Fenrir is not unkillable. He powerful yes, terribly so. He is meant to kill Odin himself. His hide is impenetrable almost, able to withstand most if not all attackers. But he is but a beast, even if a terrible and ferocious one. He opens his maws eagerly for the right bait. And if we can pierce the beasts heart as it's jaws are apart, it will die. Preferably with a spear made out cold iron, blessed silver and.. This is the tricky bit.. Yggdrasil wood.” He shrugged on the last part and glanced down on the infernal tool in his hand. ”Cold iron is the easy ingredient. Any good smith with knowledge of fey has a weapon made out of it. I know a few are listed under our care at the company.” He mused the list of names in his mind before shaking his head.

” Blessed silver needs someone in tune.. with the divine.” He looks to the angel as he says it. ”The wood... I do not know any source of it. My connections in the north are all but dead. I have not heard words from them in ages. I think it's the Ladys doing. But safe to say we would need to trespass deep into ice bitch territory to get a hold of it.” He bit his lip at the thought. ”I.. have a way to mask our presence for a while.” He held up the bloodthirsty violin. ”The violin we took from that Faustian demon years ago Atticus. It mask my magic, taints my blood for long enough for her to loose the trail I leave. Right now, its the only thing that keeps her from just lock onto me like a gps tracker. But I cannot keep using it forever.”

The siren sighed and strode to a place more centered, so that he could grab everyone attention. His glamor was not effect, but he knew how to address a crowd.”Let's make something awfully clear old friends and new allies alike. This is war.” He had a grim look on his face as he stared into his friends eyes.

”If they released Fenrir, that means every single card is in place for Ylva. We stand before a army. Not desperate vampires heading the call of a arrogant, vampiric demi-god. While Ylva is not even half as powerful in person as Demicia was she is closer to her plans reaching fruition . Imagine if Demicia had actually had all the pieces and enough time to start her crusade.. That's essentially what we are dealing with in terms of scale. ”

”But Ylva is also sickeningly methodical, manipulative and intelligent. She knows her new pets have killed their target and have been appeased. She has killed the one who knew her plans and had ties that could have proven troublesome.” Again Henry paused. He had to actually take a deep breath, try and pace himself.

” Her power lies in her incredible influence over others. We will face Redcaps, Harpys, shape shifters, Sirens, Draugir and gods knows what else. We are gonna need help Atticus. I mean every single favor you and I are owed kind of help. We need to cause panic on a global scale to throw her off our trail. We need to stretch her forces thin. Becouse she is smart she will try to pick her battles but she is also petty. Anger her enough and she will take the bait. If I use the curse she put on my blood since last year, she will come. But then there isn't a single place on earth safe for me until she is dead” He clasped his hands together as sign of resignation.

“Whatever method we find that can kill Fenrir, be it spear, bullet or spell, still has us deal with Ylvas interference. The moment she understands our plans we are in deep, and trust me when a I say: she will figure them out. When that happens she will throw everything in our path. That's when it time to shed our every sense of humanity or fair play. Our enemies aren't all evil, many of them are controlled by Ylva, pressed into service. But mercy will get us killed. A single moment of hesitation and we are all dead. Humans, fae, demon, vampire. It doesn't matter, the moment they face us, we kill them. We cannot allow Ylva and her petwolf to dictate the pace. I hesitated once,and she took everything from me.” Henrys voice was almost a whisper at the last words. A suddens change in his body language. Almost if he was shaking with some unseen force. He took a deep breath again, letting it all sink in while trying to calm down. His eyes met Atticus for a last time. There was determination and a rather uncharacteristic rage in his voice when he spoke next..

“And Atticus. I will kill her.. If it so cost me my life. I promised Sandra that when she died in my arm, and now I promised Hoyle. When that time comes, do not try to stop me.” With that he sat back and waited for the backlash.

The Solas Na Gelaí.

With a grim smile, the werewolf's amber gaze fell, as always - eternally - to her lover. She held her ebony clawed hand out to Thad, a silent invitation to the other half of her soul to join her while so many spoke. She felt so heavy - and yet somehow so hollow - with precious little to offer to this new gathering in Ardgroom, precious little to add to this conversation. All Veti had was her quiet fury, her solemn promise to a wolf she loved as her own brother, and these things howled within the confines of her head, silenced only by her lover's touch.

Siya offered to move them, if Jay-Jay or even Thad could somehow to determine the destination. Her dear friend seemed so contented, curled so easily into Atticus, as if her tiny, powerful body had been created to fit his demonic form.

And Veti listened to Atticus, letting his words roll over her. So, for all the sadistic joy the white wolf had taken murdering Aislinn, for nearly killing her, it had all only ever been a means to an end. Well, technically to the end. All this time, Aislinn had been custodian to such a powerful artifact, and Veti had not even realized something so vital until this very moment. She might have barked a bitter laugh if it wouldn't make her seem mad - and if she were sure she could stop herself once she started.

Veti listened to Henry, the import of his words running past her and through her. She had no arguments for the death of Fenrir at the dawn of Ragnarök, but its demise at the hands of Odin's son was only ever for coming of the true, prophesied Twilight of the Gods. What was happening at this moment was unprecedented, conformed to none of the Norse prophecies. Who could possibly know what rules were in play anymore?

She was so lost in her thoughts, following the threads of so many disparate conversations, Veti was almost surprised to realize Daisy was speaking to her directly. The Reaper had only just offered Artie to help with the tracking if need be, once they determined wherever the white wolf had fled. The space of several heartbeats passed as she listened to her precious friend, to the words Daisy offered that sank into her soul like a balm.

"Oh Daisy... " Veti bent her lupine face toward her Reaper friend, somehow managing a subtle, almost gentle smile despite the ivory fangs. Small tears began to well up in her amber eyes, as one clawed hand reached to gently cradle Daisy's cool cheek. "You took her over then? Aislinn... You took her over."

"Thank you Daisy. That could not have been an easy thing - to say the very least. But I am so grateful that it was you."

Veti could not even begin to speak to Aislinn's message for her, not trusting her voice wouldn't crack, or that she wouldn't dissolve in tears. And so she simply let her claw fall from Daisy's cheek to Artie's wide, ebony head, affectionately scratching behind the hellhound's velvety ears and jowls.

Later. Later, when she could truly grieve the only wolf sister she had ever known, even if it were for a few precious moments. Perhaps she would even return to Ardgroom in Aislinn's honor, to the place that had been her home once, and the ancestral home of the Teachglach Mac Tíre -

Veti's amber eyes widened, her entire body stiffening in shock. Her ebony hand still rested on Artie's head, but the standing stones, the deep Irish night and all her companions disappeared from sight, tossed in a sudden, screaming tempest that - however impossibly - seemed to emanate from her chest, from the still bloodied scar the white wolf's sword had left. She tried to turn to Thad, the question in her eyes begging an answer for what in the world was happening - for what he had done? But her lover - and all else - was shredded from her sight by a howling verdant blast that faded to the blacks of the void, relieved only by the pale, almost glowing hues of impossible whites and blue.

A glacial blue. A glacial blue in black ice and black blood, a lake filled with the most bitter resentment and hatred, bled from a monster. Her mind tried to reel from the sight before her, the enormity of the wolf half-encased in ice. She did not need to be told what she was witnessed at this moment - far, far from it. But there had been nothing in all her studies, nothing in all her experience in the Veiled World, that could have prepared her for the malevolent reality of the Fenrir to her mortal eyes.

Unable to move, unable to speak or interact or effect a single thing, Veti felt suspended about the roof of the massive ice cave, an unwilling, unwitting witness to the events that unfolded below. Aislinn had seen this, all of this to the last, and now she shared that vision - but with a difference, with a sickening surety that this was no mere portent of what was to come. Every last thing to the last, was truly happening now. At this very moment.

And Veti was helpless to stop him, the white wolf. He was a mere, insignificant speck beside the Fenrir, striving with all his might to strike the golden chain that bound the monstrous demigod. She could see the muscles that fought beneath that alabaster fur, a final heave rewarded with a *CRACK* that filled the cavern, that reverberated almost painfully to her ephemeral bones. The white wolf was tossed across the frozen lake of black blood as the Fenrir finally lifted his impossible maw with a howl to shake the very heavens. Veti felt herself lifted and flung, far across a universe of bleak void, endless emptiness and indifferent stars...

The werewolf gasped, finally drawing a breath, a true breath in her true body as she tentatively lifted her clawed hand from Artie's head. Yes, her body was her own again, and her fingers flew to her newest scar, resting over the still-sticky blood for several seconds as she drew another deep breath. Incredulous, she turned to Thad, amber eyes wide. "It's already done," she said, her voice hushed but thick with a hurricane of emotion.

"The white wolf. He has released the Fenrir." She lifted her great crimson head as she looked over all those assembled. "The Fenrir," she said louder still, her voice carrying among the stones. "The white wolf has already found him, and set him free."

Thad sort of liked this spot, between Siya and Veti with Atticus nearby. Even the rest of the gang hanging around. Oh, well things were serious, sure, they were facing massive destruction, again. And as much as his love felt pain at the loss of a pack member she only just bonded with, Thad didn’t really feel the loss except through her. Things come and go. What he cared about was right beside him. Her. Not that he would tell Veti that. She felt things. And he felt her.

He winked to Siya when she put some piece of the wolf she tried to catch in his hand. Fur and skin prickled with the potential power in his fingers. Oh yea, he could work with that. And it wasn’t just a few bits of hair. Oh no, when his dark night suker gets her claws into something you know it. It was a chunk and damn if that white wolf didn’t feel it. There was skin and flesh and hair.

He listened to Henry but wanted just to say,what? He didn’t. Thad had so much more control than Max did. Instead he just shrugged. Whatever.

Others could track he was sure. He ripped the nice piece into thirds. He left his spot quickly and handed one clump more hair than skin to the fire starter. Light this up he seemed to smile as he offered the part of the thing to Jay Jay. He didn’t wink to her. No, that was for Siya. But he did smirk a bit. He thought about telling her to use that to follow, but shit, that was redundant. Didn’t she already offer? So he did. Offer. Just held it out for her to take.

Then there was pink death girl. He should give her some. That wasn’t as easy until Veti made some move to another friend, damn his love cared about everyone. He didn’t follow really he just sort of stood there with a dangling bit of bloody fur in his hand. It almost looked at if he offered it to the hell hound more than Daisy. Maybe he did. They sniff shit, right? Go get ‘em doggie. He wasn’t sure she would take it. I mean he was hanging there in their chick friend moment. Out of place of course.

Thad tucked the last clump, more skin than hair, into his pocket. Yea, they could track, fire and hound, he would save his share for the impending attack. What the hell do they do when they find the thing?

All this faded as he felt Veti stiffen. Her whole body tightened and he was there taking hold of her as soon as it did. No, no, no, no. she was not leaving him. No fuckin’ way. If she was going somewhere he was too. So he put his arms around her until her body loosened again and came back.

When she spoke he could feel the depth of her words and the way they had rattled her core. He could see it in her eyes. He could see the fear and the fire. He let his hold go as she turned to face the others. Her voice rang out in the strength he had always known she carried. She was beautiful. So beautiful. He watched her more than listened. Sure, so let's go put the freak back in it’s cage. Maybe. Maybe not. But it did not so much matter to Thad. He was there with Veti and Siya and Atticus and the rest of the freaked misfits. They would try. He knew they would. What the fuck.

Semyon listened quietly to Atticus, absorbing the meaning of the demon's words in rapt attention. Norse mythology wasn't a subject the Wight was well-versed in, the gods and superstitions of his own land far, far more important to the choices he continued to make. Besides, there had been no shortage of comrades in the Boston Branch one could go to for that information, Tamarind and Grimm just two notable examples of many. So he took in and mulled over all Atticus said, waiting until the demon had turned to address others in specific before turning to Gabriel nearby.

"Valuable and dangerous, both." He nodded along with the words in answer to the man's previous comment. "Once we know where our quarry has fled, we can quickl- ah-"

Semyon had ignored the smaller conversations of others out of politeness -that was the reason he didn't look anywhere near the Reaper... in a sense- but Henry Grimm's words were meant for all, and drew his attention. As he had with Atticus before, Semyon listened, contemplating what the Siren said to combine with what little he knew of the mythology in question.

He didn't know 'Ylva' or her connection to Grimm, and much of what the Siren said there was lost on the Wight. A quick rundown of likely opponents proved very interesting, however, as it meant he shouldn't re-load for werewolves exclusively.

He was still going to carry one magazine of silver rounds, however. Just in case.

The words on how to possibly kill the 'Fenrir' were also listened to, but caused Semyon's lips to pull downwards the more he heard. The preferred weapon seemed far too difficult to craft, and the more the Wight heard of the god-beast and the ways to kill it, the less sure he was that plan might succeed. Anything could die, oh certainly, Semyon knew that far better than he had ever hoped to. But a spear crafted of cold iron, blessed silver and Yggdrasil heartwood? The only vulnerability being through the god-beast's open jaws?

This was a beast meant to bring about the Norse Armageddon, yes?

...and now, according to Tamarind, it was indeed free.

"The mouth is a difficult way to reach the heart..." He mused the words in the silence that rose up after Grimm's speech and Tamarind's declaration. "This beast was imprisoned, correct? Could it be done again?"

Semyon looked from Grimm to Tamarind to Atticus, offering nothing of his own to follow the question. A question was all it was, to try and find out what options they truly had.

"I don't know these Gods. Can we trap Fenrir, or do we have to kill it?"

Gabriel sat quietly in the darkness, as he was inclined against only moments ago. Semyon spoke to him briefly, which the angel appreciated. As more people came through the ever shrinking gate, and began spouting ideas, Gabriel slowly lost control of his understanding of the situation. One of the men in the group, one that Gabe did not know the name of, seemed to have a deep understanding of the mythos surrounding the white wolf and this thing called Fenrir. Gabe was only able to understand small bits of the conversation since most of it was obscure lingo.

The two who’d been so bloodied and loving at the gathering, which seemed so far away now, were like that still. They clung to each other like the blood on them did.

Gabe lifted his head as the man who he did not know mentioned a connection to the divine. The two looked directly into each other’s eyes. Gabe felt a little violated, a tad bit embarrassed, and mostly confused. How did this man, who he’d never met, know that Gabriel had any connection to the heavens?

Gabe sat at knee-height as everyone discussed important matters, matters he knew not of and had no insight in. He sat there, one leg crossed over the other, like a child. The grown-ups were talking, and so he dipped his head like a child. All he could hope was that soon someone would be able to track the assailant and he’d be able to do anything at all, he’d be useful. Gabriel still felt like he was an intruder and he didn’t know how to rectify that. Well, they didn’t know his name, and he hardly knew theirs, for starters. Gabe felt the inclination to introduce himself, he thought that might help him fell less like he didn’t belong—as if he belonged. And so, with the sophistication of a scolded child, Gabriel blurted out when there was a moment of silence.

“I’m Gabriel, by the way, pleasure to meet all of you.” He didn’t look up, he didn’t make eye contact with anyone, he simply spoke.

Jay-Jay didn’t know how to deal with pressure, or the tension, or the being at the center of attention. It was crazy to think that she’d wished for it not long ago: to be back with people who she had idolised before, and now they all seemed so...fragile? Weak?

...Human?

It didn’t matter what she wished for, then or now.Here she was: highlighted by Atticus as one of the people that would now lead the group to their destination of whatever was made of the white stuff that Thad, or Max, or whatever she was meant to call him handed to her.

She had to admit, there was more than a small amount of pride in Jay-Jay being the useful one. Not Kata, not the demon, not even the fire-host part of her that she seemed more acknowledged as. The group needed her to be...well...her. All magical and shit!

It was good, it felt good and it was scary at the same time. A different kind of scary, though. The kind that puts butterflies in your gut and forces you to either throw ‘em up or burn ‘em up. It was pressure, and it was tension, and it was probably the sort of things that important people had to deal with all the time.

She suddenly felt a whole lot more respect for Atticus. Being important sucked, and the fact that he was the leader of so much tough shit made it even worse. Jay-Jay was nervous about stepping up to the plate on something that there was back up for. Two other people had admitted they could do this job as well. Boss-man didn’t have that luxury, if he fucked up: it was on his head. How did you deal with that?

She cleared her throat and smiled at the various people who addressed her. A nod to Atticus, saying that she could definitely do this whole tracking thing. She hadn’t any magic plans for stopping a god-killing god, but at least she could get them there as soon as magically possible.

She wasn’t that surprised that Siya didn’t know much about her. She wasn’t even that surprised by her obvious deference to Thad. It stung a little, to be so ignored, put pride was a thing for another time. Besides, if Siya couldn’t remember her yet: she’d just have to remember her for later.

She gave Thad a smile as he offered her the chunk of the hair. His smirk gave her a little ounce of his confidence: as if saying ‘do this shit so I don’t have to.’ There weren’t any words exchanged; no offer to take the job or reassurances that there was no pressure. Just that little smirk of confidence. It was...kind. Veti’s devotion to the man started to make a little more sense.

It was amazing to think how much she had held these people on a pedestal. Now, they all seemed so relatable and the tension was starting to melt away. Things were making sense to her...People were making sense to her. She turned her back to the group of people: people who could fail and people who could succeed in just the same ways as she could…

Time to get to work.

She crouched down and started to drag her nail in a circle on the floor under foot. Her entire finger seemed to go effortlessly down to her knuckle through the dirt, stone and grass as if she were slicing through butter with a blowtorch. Soon, a circle was drawn in the dirt, and the mage started to doodle down different runes, Norse runes at that: although she either didn't know or didn't actually care about their origins. It seems that when your magic is the result of training under a demi-god of norse lore, you pick up a bit of the lingo.

After a handful of seconds, the circle was made into an intricate sigil on the ground: etched with runes and scaring the earth with a clear-yet-unknown purpose. She stood up and brushed dirt off her knees, before she put the small tuft of hair in the center of the circle which, in an instant, started to blaze.

“Just for the people who don’t know or just don't remember. I’m pretty much all about fire: most people scry using other means: They read water or tea-leaves or the intestines of sheep or some crap: but I prefer the simple stuff. I’m easy like that. Burning the hair means I’ll be able to see the douchebag we’re after in the fire.”

She paused for a second, as she started to stare more intently into the fire. She was seeing something, it seemed, even as others just saw the dancing orange flames.

’Be careful what looks back, Jay-Jay.’

In truth, scrying is a weird feat of magic. The images were slow to form, leaving Jay-Jay grasping at the smokey images and trying to tame the barren shadows into an actual form. It wasn’t easy, by any stretch: like the images were fighting against her.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” She was muttering out loud, as if talking not only to her inner demon, but to herself also. She gulped as her face become one of actual concentration. The flame seemed to expand, to grow in size and intensity as she worked on making the images clear for everyone, she knew that everyone was eager to see their foe.

Zakhar was a warrior. He was a werewolf forged of the iron of tragedy, death, hatred, and vengeance. In the face of his own demise he scoffed, and of fear, he knew little. Yet, beneath the terrible shadow of the wolf-god, he quaked like a common cur. Fenris’ howl seemed to reverberate into Zakhar’s very bones, and all steel drained from the white-wolf’s veins.

Still lying upon the black, frozen lake, his breaths came in rapid and ragged pants. The whites of his eyes ringed his amber iris’, and he felt trapped in the own ivory strands of his thick fur.

As Fenris dropped his massive head, his howl completed, he turned his obsidian gaze to where Zakhar lay. The eyes of the wolf-god seemed to have a palpable presence as they alighted upon the werewolf. A new wave of fearful shivers coursed across Zakhar’s body, and at this Fenris lifted the cracked lips of his maw into a wicked smirk.

Your fear is pleasing, child, came the booming voice inside of Zakhar’s head. A whimper escaped the werewolf’s lips.

With slow and booming steps, Fenris turned to face Zakhar. Every press of the wolf-god’s paws crunched the stone beneath them, sending clouds of dust and granite shards flying into the air.

Oh, child, I am forever in your debt. Be not afraid, for you are a herald of a new age…

Fenris’ voice had started in a low and thinly veiled note of calm, as if he were a butcher soothing a calf being led to slaughter. But in that last instant, his words ceased abruptly, and the wolf-god spun to face an area just to the right of Zakhar. Sword-like fangs gleamed blue in the strange cave, and somehow even the inky black of Fenris’ eyes seemed to emit a strange and terrible light as they focused.

Zakhar, still shaking, slowly turned his head to follow the god’s gaze. What he saw drew his attention from the moment, and his brows knit in confusion.

There, floating just inches above the icy lake’s surface was a roaring flame.

Puzzled, Zakhar rolled towards the fire, and his eyes squinted at the strange apparition. Within the dancing tongues or orange and yellow, he could make out shapes, organic and obscure, as if they were being viewed through frosted glass.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, Zakhar peered harder, trying to focus upon the shapes that eluded distinction. Slowly, the light of the flames seemed to become more transparent, and with it, the shapes. Recognition dawned upon him, and the unmistakable stones of Ardgroom became visible. Within the ring of the stones, figures appeared. Zakhar’s jaw dropped with stunned dismay.

How…?

His thought was interrupted by Fenris’ voice, thundering between Zakhar’s ears.

It will be them!

Zakhar flinched and looked over his shoulder to Fenris. The wolf-god stood there, and a broad grin somehow curled his wolfish muzzle.

They will be the first to witness my return, and the beginning of the end.

---

Atticus had been listening to the discussion, his hand stroking with contemplative concern upon his beard. His tail swished behind him in anxious arcs as he took in the words of those gathered, and attempted to comprehend the terrible reality that he once again found himself and his team. The world’s most dire affliction was falling into the Bain & Hoyle Company’s collective lap, just as it had scant months ago.

Are we to be forever cursed with this burden, until it ultimately destroys us?

With a rough sigh in answer to his own posit, he looked into the growing fire of Jay-Jay’s spell. At first he saw nothing but the dance of flames, and then like dew being wiped free of a window, images suddenly came into sharp focus.

He saw a blue cave, a black lake, and the enormous form of a massive wolf staring with obsidian eyes from its banks. Atticus breath caught in his throat, disbelief stayed his tail in midair.

The incubus had no time to think upon what looked back through the light of those magical flames, for in that very moment a shining bolt of green lightning erupted from within the stone circle. Thunder followed instantly, and Atticus felt himself flying backwards. Stunned, he could make out only more successive flashes of green, and the booming report of thunder as his flight took him out of the ring of stones.

With a rush of air from his lungs, Atticus landed hard upon the cool earth, and skidded across the grass. His wings folded and splayed at odd angles, and Atticus came to rest in a heap of his own red limbs. Pain did not yet register to his mind, as thunderclap after thunderclap continued to buffet him, and the green flashes of lightning grew in frequency. The whole of his senses were overwhelmed by the display.

Then, through the burst of green, a silhouette could be seen. At first Atticus could not comprehend what it was. It was so large that the night sky was obscured from view, and the emerald lightning became an aurora around its rough edges.

Blinking hard, Atticus stood. Upon his feet he labored to focus upon the haloed shadow, and recognize its nature. For several long moments he stood in this manner, rigid with confusion and frozen with the futility of his discernment. Then, with all the force of the lightning that had flung him, Atticus saw, truly saw.

It was a wolf. The god-wolf.

Veti gave her lover a smile that, despite the maw full of fangs, was still somehow tender, so very loving. Only Thad would ever think to wrap his arms around an eight foot tall crimson wolf beast, just to steady her, simply to tell her without a single word that he would never leave. She was rattled, without a doubt, but Thad braced her in a heartbeat. "Thank you, love" she whispered, leaning down to whisper in his ear, finding warm reassurance as she took a deep breath, burying her muzzle in the warm crook between his neck and shoulder for a moment, until she heard the new guy's plaintive self-introduction.

The werewolf lifted her head from Thad's shoulder, torn somewhere between stunned laughter and a wee touch of sympathy at his pathetic state, hunkered down on the ground as he was, looking all sad. "Well hey Gabe, consider it the 'average first day at Bain & Hoyle.' It'll probably be the standard Day 20 of your employment too. First anniversary. Retirement party... " She shrugged noncommittally despite the hurricane of emotions that screamed through her head and heart in this very moment: the unspeakable loss of a sister wolf, the hellish vision of the freed Fenrir, the unforgiving blood oath of vengeance - and now?

Now, she was going to work on introducing the new hire. Heh. Fuck it.

Yeah, it was probably a good thing she didn't laugh. Veti was suddenly sure if she started, she probably wouldn’t have stopped, and it’d probably have gotten all twisted up into something hysterical and not altogether sane.

“Veti, werewolf. Obviously,” she began, patting her chest with a sly, wolfish grin, “Thad, warlock and love of my life. Daisy,” she added, one ebony-tipped claw gesturing toward the Reaper. “BFF and Reaper – not necessarily in that order, but I’m grateful nonetheless.” Veti’s claw ran lovingly over the hellhound’s massive head. “Artie, Daisy’s true companion, but she lets me love on him too because she’s good to me, even when I’m at my most pathetic.”

Her claw pointed toward the undead man, and then to each in turn. “Semyon, a greater wight and all around Russian bad ass. Siya, vampire and my other BFF, roommate and partner in pretty much… Well… Everything?”

“Jay-Jay, pyromaniac and demon host who seems to have been branching out with her skills this past year. Henry, river fae – a Nack – and executive assistant to our boss, the more obvious demon type with the prehensile tale and wings? Yeah, that’s the big guy, Atticus, incubus, immediate supervisor and Chief of Operations for the Boston Branch Office. And… “

Veti tapped her furry chin with one long claw, as if she were considering for a moment. “Yes, that about covers our people – and the mission? Save the world from complete destruction of course – honestly, I doubt this team has another mission anymore. This particular existential threat to our world is called variously Ragnarok, or the Twilight of the Gods as you will – “

As if to punctuate her words with extreme prejudice, green lightning erupted in the center of the standing stones, endlessly it seemed though it only took one earthshattering rumble of thunder to toss the crimson werewolf backward off her clawed feet, helpless as a windblown autumn leaf to halt her flight, slamming clumsily, painfully, into the ground again and again.

The werewolf groaned deep in her throat when the earth stopped bucking and she could finally lift her head from the dirt, shaking her pelt as she tried to scramble to her claws. To her eyes it seemed the brilliant Irish night sky had disappeared utterly, replaced with an endless, abyssal darkness. Veti opened her jaws to shout for Thad, breathing deeply –

The wolf in her whined, her great crimson tail instantly tucked beneath her in abject terror as she crouched in a huddled ball, as small as she could make herself. Ears pinned back, she could barely bring herself to look upward, toward the black shadow that blotted out the whole world. Her whole body shook with an all-consuming dread, every cell in the werewolf’s body screaming for her to bolt, to flee in mortal fear, heedless of love or duty…

Holy shit... Not just freed – here!

Fucking Jay-Jay...

It was the woman who rose this time, the woman who seized the wolf within and shoved her back, emerging into this hellish new shadow world. The wolf was all but useless, paralyzed with fear in the presence of the Fenrir, the wolf-god, and Veti could not let that happen. She leapt to her bare feet, the blood-spattered remains of her once-beautiful grey dress the only armor she had now, but that simply didn’t matter. Not now. Not when the faces of everyone she ever loved flashed through her mind’s eye, an endlessly looping reel that gave purpose to every last good and decent thing in her lifetime.

Veti knew they probably didn’t have a prayer before a demigod – but fuck it. She wasn’t about laying down and letting this monster rip apart the ones she loved. Distraction. She could do that, but damn it ALL to hell, her Desert Eagle was still in the Keep – shitshitshitshitSHIT!

“SEMYON?” she shouted, her eyes sweeping the darkening glade for the wight. “SEMYON! NEED A GUN!”