"I feel that would go poorly, and involve a first aid kit." Genevieve returned, actually finding some relief that her awkwardness had not been received poorly. It almost reminded her of old times, better ones, but she shook the thought and focused on the here and now. Going down that path would only invite her to compare Blaine to them, and even as loosely acquainted as they were she still felt that would be unfair. She was giving friendship a chance here, and while she wasn't entirely keen on fostering its growth, she wasn't going to work against it either.

"But that's for another time and…" There was a short pause as she thought through fully what Blaine had said, knowing there would be entirely different implications if a man had suggested that to her. Implications that would likely have resulted in a harsh telling off, but that wasn't at play here, was it? Now that got her wondering, she couldn't recall anyone else in Blaine's life, much less a romantic interest, but she hadn't shared much of her own life in fairness. Her actions after the comment were telling, the slight bite of her lip and the ever so subtle blush. Wait. Was she? Was there that very implication, and could she have meant it?

Neither seemed to get much of a chance to clear the air as a man came up on them quite suddenly and requested Blaine's attention. He was polite enough in his approach but she still felt irritated for some reason. There was no real explanation. She just felt irritation immediately upon this interruption, the displeasure making itself clear on her face as she watched the two move off to the side to discuss in private. For a brief moment she considered listening in, but something stopped her, perhaps a little bit of guilt in having that taint the friendship between herself and Blaine. It was enough to distract her and make her take a bit of time for introspection. What all did she really know about this woman? Genevieve knew of a little about her personality, enough that they were quite nearly two of a kind, and that they were both military women. That was… That was just about it, and a part of her felt a little ashamed that she hadn't made a better effort of actually being social.

Just then a scream cut across the square, drawing her immediate attention and lighting up her combat awareness. There was trouble, and from the sounds of growing panic it was pretty bad. Her body went numb when the tell tale growls of werewolves could be heard, almost freezing her on the spot, but with the sheer number of victims outside the square she was able to suppress it for now. More than that, Blaine was there with her and… That was going to be an incredibly awkward conversation later. For now, she had already drawn her pistol, checking the chamber and finding a silver-tip round ready to fire. The safety clicked off and without even waiting for their conversation to finish, she moved to put herself between Blaine and the rabid weres.

"Stick low and close, if you've got a piece then it's time to use it." She spoke quickly and clearly, training kicking in full as she kept one arm back to keep the other woman safely behind her, and her right hand aiming the pistol at any potential threats. Genevieve didn't even register the attempts to compel her from the passing vampire, turning her head as she noticed movement and gesturing to her to keep moving.

When Blaine returned to Genevieve's side she saw that the other woman had already drawn a sidearm out of seemingly nowhere. Okay, maybe not out of nowhere. Blaine thought. She did work in security and she had been working just now before their serendipitous meeting. But before the Alpha had the proper time to process this whole situation Genevieve took a protective stance in front of her brandishing her weapon in the most professional of manners. Blaine didn't know her well enough to gauge if her new friend would react as protectively towards other people, still she couldn't help but feel warmed by the gesture. Even if largely unnecessary. She was a Were, if she was seriously injured by human standards, she would heal without problem or medical intervention. However, she could ill afford someone seeing that. Genevieve especially!

She drew out her telescopic baton and snapped it to its full length with a flick of her wrist. "I'm afraid this is all I've got." She looked at Genevieve with concern etched on her face. "I'm not in the habit of conceal carrying and my service weapon is safely locked away at home." She sidestepped her companion so that she was no longer behind Genevieve but side by side with her. "Had I known that wild wolves would attack the festivities I might have bothered to take it with me." She said as if trying to dismiss the obvious strangeness of wolves attacking in broad daylight, outside of their natural habitat, engaging an enemy that had superior numbers, and also they were not attacking as a pack, but as individuals. Anyone who knew wolves knew this much.

Blaine gripped the hilt of her baton so hard her knuckles turned white with the effort. Another second or so of this pressure and she could very well snap the damn thing, so she made a conscious effort to temper her anger. The speech of the bible-thumper still vivid in her mind. Great! Just what Salem needed! A new bout of witch hunts. Just as she was thinking that she caught a blur of motion from behind them with her peripheral vision. Her body moved before she could think it turning, her arm swinging in a powerful arch and impacting heavily with a wolf’s skull.

In truth, Genevieve hadn't expected Blaine to be carrying to so public an event, but at least she was armed with something. She shifted her stance a bit to compensate for Blaine taking a flank, moving forward towards the sounds of panic. "That's understandable, though I don't go anywhere without mine on me in case something like this happens." While Genevieve was speaking specifically of an attack by the supernatural, surely it would be implied otherwise. After all, most people would know nothing about things like werewolves and vampires. Yet… Something was very wrong about this attack in particular. Nevermind that there hadn't been such a brash and open one like it in centuries.

The weres struck out at whatever moved and was closest to them it seemed, almost in a feral fashion. While that would make sense for their brashness to anyone not privy to supernatural knowledge, to her and any denizen of that world, it was beyond reckless. Her mind went to immediately start putting the pieces together, thinking it very odd that so many feral and werewolves would find a densely populated area like this, and that the preacher would choose this time to make his speech. Her own religious views notwithstanding, it didn't sit well with her. If he had something to do with this, then he was going against everything that the Hunters stood for, and that made him a threat.

Of more immediate concern was the crack of Blaine's baton across the skull of one of the wolves. It seemed that one of them had found them, and soon others would as well. They were just outside the perimeter of the square and the blessing upon it, but she felt that neither of them were too keen on sheltering within while so many innocents bled on the streets. Her first concern was to dispatch the dazed Were, turning on her heel and putting a bullet through an eye before it could react. The body went limp on the ground, but even as it did she heard the click of paws across concrete. Another one had heard the first's discovery of them, or perhaps they were telepathically linked in some manner. Genevieve powered through her instinctive fear of the beasts, whipping the pistol around and firing off two shots into its chest.

Fuck! This is not good. Blaine thought. They seem to be zeroing on me. The Were Alpha sidestepped a bit to avoid the second wolf that Genevieve dispatched with ease hitting her in the legs as it slid lifeless on the ground. She had a moment to admire the other woman's abilities with the pistol and her grace under fire. But at the same time she could not help but feel a deep sadness for the fell Weres. True, she herself would put every last of them down for what they were doing, yet she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that their behavior was not their own. Especially with the, oh so impeccably timed speech of the preacher. Something was amiss and the air was afoul with that dreaded familiar scent of hexed wolves.

A third wolf approached them recklessly head on, but Blaine sensed another presence lurking from behind. So you finally figured me out, huh?! The Alpha thought realizing the two wolves were working in tandem and the first had revealed itself as a diversion to provide his comrade with the perfect opportunity to attack the two women from behind. There was no way for Genevieve to know about the presence of the other wolf and she would not let anything happen to her. A fierce protectiveness took over her. Not gonna happen, whelps! Blaine gritted her teeth. "I'm Were Alpha!" Her telepathic voice boomed in the ether, reaching all of her pack-mates with certainty, but also trasmitting a wave of dominant energy throughout the square, igniting her blue eyes with a Were glow.

The decoy Were faltered in its approach and Blaine felt an answering hesitance from the hidden one as well.

"Maybe we should try to take one of these crazed beasts alive." She muttered to Genevieve standing back to back with her attentive as not to demonstrate her glowing Were eyes. "We need to figure out what drove them to attack later on." She elaborated her reasoning. "Think we can manage to dispatch one of them without killing it?"

Genevieve's eyes searched around them, knowing that where there was one there would be more especially with the surrounding panic. A dark shape lurked around behind the stalls, moving out of sight before she could get her sights on it. They were out in the open and from what she could hear behind her the Weres were attempting to flank them from Blaine's side. Perhaps it was the obvious threat of her silver bullets, the telepathic links between the beasts communicating the danger of the huntress. For a moment the ones nearby faltered and she felt a strange sensation wash over her, a strong aura dissuading the beasts from attack. Was it their pack leader? Could the Alpha of Salem have been caught up in this too?

If so she had to act quickly and put them down, she couldn't afford to have so dangerous a threat unbound. "No, they must be destroyed." Genevieve had thought on the possibility of detaining one of the werewolves, but partly out of her own fear and hatred of them, as well as the unknown of what drove them mad, she didn't think it wise to do so. They could be under any number of arcane spells, and she didn't want to risk either of their lives by tampering with something they knew nothing about. "We can ill afford to use anything less than lethal force on such beasts, and even still we would have to find someone knowledgeable."

"More than that…" She paused, looking at one of the fallen at their feet and the blood staining its teeth and claws. "They have tasted human flesh, and for most of their kind once they do they cannot shake the craving. It is better for them this way."

Blaine listened to Genevieve's response with grim resignation. The other woman didn't know how right she was. Even if she thought it was just a case of a pack of wolves gone rabid and attacking people. "I suppose you're right. It is best to put down rabid animals. Maybe later, once things have calmed down, the savvy ones will investigate all this." Blaine looked about. Most of the people that had attended the festivities now cowered within the Washington Square proper. There must be some enchantment on it. The Alpha thought. Something that prevents the Weres from entering it. It was probably why the pack and I felt this discomfort. Outloud she said: "It appears the animals are reluctant to enter the square proper for whatever reason. What say we do a sweep of the perimeter? Lead whoever we can find to safety. And then maybe the cavalry'll finally show up and chase those rabid wolves outside the city center where they can put them down without any more human casualties."

The wolves were very purposefully avoiding the square, that much was obvious to both women even with just a glance. With the way they were reluctant to chase what would otherwise be an easy target already wounded, Genevieve started to think more and more that this was all planned. Not to mention the preacher conveniently making his sermon from within the square and calling all of this out. Genevieve had a foul taste in her mouth, and it wasn't just the werewolves running rampant. It was the duty of all Hunters to keep the supernatural world hidden from the innocent, and ensure the safety of their fellow mortals. Someone had crossed a very clear line and they were going to pay for it in blood. For now though, there were a lot of wounded and many in need of more than just medical attention. If left sit there would be an increase to Salem's pack. She shuddered at the thought of a fresh wave of new werewolves struggling to learn their new powers and to reign in their instincts.

"Yes, let's do a sweep and clear. Anyone wounded needs to get into the square and get treated. A couple of herbalists were here for the fair, they'll be useful until EMTs arrive." More than useful, she was hoping the witches of Salem had brought antidotes for lycanthropy. It wasn't a normal ware she knew, but with the prevalence of werewolves in the city, surely at least one or two had them handy? Genevieve waited until they were clear again, turning to face Blaine. "How do you want to do this? Stick together and clear them out, or split up and cover more ground?"

Blaine regarded Genevieve. It disturbed her to see the other woman so obviously affected by this attack. She didn't know her well enough to speculate on her precise emotions but the worry was etched visibly enough on her beautiful features. The Alpha clenched her fists. If I find out who's responsible for this, there'll be hell to pay. She thought irritably. It pained her to think that this incident could one day jeopardize her relationship with Genevieve. Even if friends was all they could ever be. And there you go with the wishful thinking again. Blaine chastised herself. It was becoming clearer with every new moment spent with Genevieve that she wanted more of their relationship, but would never push beyond what was offered.

"Let's stick together." She answered. Hesitated, then added: "We make a good team." She grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Since you have the piece, you can take point and I'll help people inside the square and watch your back. When we're done I can help with the first aid since I'm a certified EMT." Blaine drew close to Genevieve as they started on their sweep of the perimeter. "I'm just not sure if any amount of healing we physicians can provide, can erase the terror of this attack." Blaine was keeping her head on a swivel and all her heightened senses on alert. To say that Genevieve was a highly trained operator was an understatement, but she still felt overprotective towards her and would lay down her life if it came to it. She just hope it wouldn't come to it. She wanted more time with this enigma of a woman.

They'd made it halfway through their sweep bringing mauled victims and any people too scared to come out of their hiding places inside the square. Blaine was carrying a small girl inside the square, while her mother clutched her torn up left arm with her right. Just a few paces behind her Genevieve watched the perimeter for anymore of the ferals, mentally checking how many bullets remained in her magazine. She had already fired off just over half of the fifteen round magazine, leaving seven more until a reload was absolutely necessary. Out of habit her left hand reached down to her hip, patting an empty pocket and prompting a stream of curses under her breath. Of course she had left the spare mag at home. So be it, she would make do with what she had, and hopefully not have to worry about what to do afterward.

As if answering her own internal conflict a pair of the feral werewolves stalked out from between two abandoned stalls, the glow of their eyes focused solely on her. Whatever had dissuade them from attacking earlier no longer did so it seemed, for just as soon as she put her sights on the larger of the two, another pair entered her sight from either side. They had clearly recognized her and Blaine as a threat and were aiming to ensure an easier hunt. That wasn't going to happen, not today. Bracing her pistol in both hands she fired, the gunshot echoing around the square. Except it missed. Trying to face down all four of them took every bit of her willpower, and sheer confidence alone could only keep her going for so long. She didn't know how long it had been since the attack started, but the initial adrenaline rush was fading and now the primal fear was setting in. Each of the ferals seemed all the larger and more fearsome as the creeping paralyzation set in. Genevieve fired again, winging her first target as it started pounding across the pavement towards her.

Another shot landed in its flank and put it down, but her initial hesitation had emboldened the other three. They attacked in unison and it took all she had to make her stand. She fired two more shots at the closest, a wounded cry letting her and the others know the wounds were mortal. Genevieve turned and fired at the leftmost wolf, missing again before seeing the movement in the corner of her eye as the wounded one began to limp towards her. Without thinking she whipped the pistol back to focus on it and fired, putting it down permanently. They were close now, almost within leaping range and as she turned to fire there was nothing but an empty click, and she froze...

A sense of dread seized Blaine's heart for a nano-second and her wolf howled in pain inside her as Genevieve's gun echoed through the square. The Alpha rushed the girl and the mother to safety and sprinted for her partner. Two wolves lay dead on the ground but four more were approaching. Genevieve stood firm, her weapon trained on them. Blaine's heart thudded with unparalleled fear in her chest. Screw this! She crabbed Genevieve and almost dragged her the few feet to the square proper. Not waiting to see how she'd react to Blaine manhandling her like that, the Were Alpha stood firm, just outside of the protective perimeter, legs spread apart, her hand gripping the baton, her features set, her eyes burning blue with fierce determination, her canines protruding above her lower lip.

"This is Salem. I am Alpha here! I will hunt you down and make you answer for your atrocities on this day! Leave here now and later your deaths will be swift. Stay, and you will suffer!" Blaine knew her thoughts had no hope of reaching these unfamiliar wolves, but she also knew the intent would be transmitted in the form of energy any predator would understand.

One moment Genevieve was facing down the closing teeth and claws of two ferals and the next she was very nearly airborne. It took her rolling across the pavement and finding her feet again through pure instinct to realize what had happened. Her gun had hit empty and she was very nearly in some serious trouble when Blaine had intervened. If it wasn't for her quick reflexes then she may very well have ended up among the wounded at the very least. Though she didn't care much for the impromptu toss, she was indebted and a little surprised as she watched her face down the ferals. She couldn't see the woman's face, but she must have matched their snarl for the remaining wolves backed away slowly, tails low in submission before disappearing. With a good few of their number now dead, the ferals would be a fair bit more cautious about attacking around the square, especially now that it was clear there were Hunters alert and ready to face them.

---

Wow, did she eat bitch flakes for breakfast or something? The girl's remarks erased all interest Aimee had, though she gave the girl a slight shrug, sunglasses back in place as Aimee turned on her heel and continued on her merry way. As she continued to walk, she found herself unsure of what exactly to do. For once there were too many possibilities, too many people to pick from. She had half a mind to turn around and chase the brunette, but that wouldn't end well, and she wanted to have some fun.

As the thought crossed her mind, however, that's when all hell broke loose.

Letting out the smallest of squeaks, Aimee felt herself get carried away by the wave of people evacuating the area. Her short stature didn't help things, though the sheer amount of people made it hard to push back. For the moment, she simply went with the current until she could finally move without meeting too much resistance, though at that point she wound up back at the square. The sounds of bullets and wolves still rang in her ears, though as she wondered what to do next, it was then that she noticed the priest making his announcement.

Tapping her chin with her index finger, Aimee was completely silent as the man spoke. She had never seen him before; admittedly her memory wasn't the best, but faces around her were familiar, and even if she couldn't name every citizen, she recognized a majority of the people. This one was...bold. Was that the word she was looking for? No, something was just wrong about him. Then again, her bias towards religion may have contributed to that train of thought, but the more he spoke, the more she was sure of it. The timing was too perfect. Once the man finished, she teetered between deciding to confront him or to do nothing, though she decision was made for her as the man disappeared into the crowd. It could have been for the best, maybe he wanted to get attention from a supernatural. Although, why now of all times? No, she was overthinking it, this was way out of her league. Actually, if anything, she figured Mrs. Sanguis may have been interested to know, but as that very thought crossed her mind, she spotted a familiar face not too far from where she was.

As they say, speak of the devil, and he would appear.

Not that Mrs. Sanguis was the devil, far from it. But she and Aimee had some slight friction--no, that was too harsh, more like the two had very opposite views in regards to...many things. Still, Aimee respected Mrs. Sanguis, and she decided to carefully approach the woman. For some reason the older vampire was completely at attention, almost as if she was expecting an attack. There was no way Aimee could ignore that.

"Mrs. Sanguis," Aimee's eyes widened slightly out of surprise more than anything, though whether it was because of the woman actually showing up or if she was going to get into trouble. The thought perished as she examined Ambrosia, noticing how...nervous she was. "Are you alright?" She frowned, slightly concerned. "What was all that?"

---

There is an idea of a Desmond Gray; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real Desmond: only an entity, something illusory. And though he can hide his cold gaze, and you can shake his hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense each other’s lifestyles are probably comparable... he simply is not there. The day started off like any other, Desmond preferably worked the night shifts so he had time in the morning to sleep as to avoid the sunlight. Seven to seven was ideal and the fact that most accidents that sent the bloody and mutilated to the trauma center were always in the dead of night. His prey basically came to him on a silver platter with him having to do some work, but not as much as he would trying to find the perfect meal outside of it.

Fortunately for Desmond he requested off the following day to attend the long awaited Founders Day in Washington square, the idea itself was silly to Desmond since he was approaching the third century mark in age. If anything the town should be relishing in his achievements and livelihood, regardless of what he thought, Desmond was looking forward to having a day off from his monotonous grind of working in the hospital. The minute hand was quickly approaching the end of his 12 hour shift while the sun was peaking up from the backdrop of the horizon. ”Just one quick meal before I go to bed.” looking around to make sure no one was near, Desmond walked the halls with a hint of death leaking out from his pores. The darkness cascaded the walls and much like cold air, fell to the ground to create an uncomfortable chill to anyone who walked beside him.

Going through his rotations he scanned all the patients who were on life support and specifically under “do not resuscitate” these were the easiest to get away with. His tongue clicked as his eyes narrowed and the names grew shorter and shorter, “Let’s see, Abigail Sawyer…27, Caucasian, Suffered from a traumatic stroke. Shame, she was so young too.” Desmond exhaled and slapped his clipboard shut entering the room to see the young girl on life support. The ventilator and the gown took nothing away from the beauty that was stuck comatose. Her hair was a rich auburn color and her skin was a creamy peach color. If there was one thing that was a crime to her beauty it was the ailment stripping the color from her face. Desmond stepped closer to the girl admiring her beauty as if it were a sin for him to be in her presence. His cold finger carefully brushed aside a strip of hair that had obstructed her natural beauty. Her skin was warm, her artery beating furiously through her peach colored skin to keep her body alive.

Romanticizing death and the intimacy between the killer and his victim was the epitome of what drove Desmond to kill instead of switching to animal blood. He had his humanity, but he had to feed the monster, that part of him would never leave. Desmond sat down on the edge of the bed moving his mouth closer to her neck as he pushed her head to the side to expose her neck. His fangs clicked and his eyes filled with black mist, death was looming….until, “Hey there Desmond, aren’t you supposed to be off now? You know the hospital doesn’t like handing out overtime when they need to. Besides that Founders day festival is going to be wild. You should probably rest up before you go.” The next surgeon on rotation said as he stood by the frame of the door. Desmond’s fists clenched in anger as the euphoric idea of ripping into his neck and draining him right there and then danced around in his mind. Instead, his fangs retracted and his sclera faded to white, showing only his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Yeah you’re right, I was just trying to talk to Abigail to see if she would wake up. She’s too young to be in here” Desmond said as he got up and proceeded to walk past his fellow resident. The surgeon stopped him before he left, “I know it’s hard. It’s okay to cry one out, you can’t let it get to you. We do everything we can, it’s all up to God after that. Good luck brother” his hand fell back to his side as he entered the room and began to read her sheet.

Desmond in an angered hungered state decided to head home and get some rest for a few hours before making his entrance at the festival. Once home Desmond walked into his studio apartment that was almost too clean and sanitary; one might mistake it as a staged space. The interior was completely devoid of color and only consisted of monochromatic shades of black and white. Everything was in order and properly aligned, the existence of dirt or dust was bleak. There wasn’t much furniture either, a bed, a table to eat, and your regular in home appliances. The two things that stuck out that gave some virility to his humble abode was the art draped along his walls, an exquisite amount of detail was poured into these canvas, and little did his visitors know was that the portraits captured the last few moments of fleeting life his victims had. Beyond his easel and blank canvas there was a large bookcase that contained several books regarding human anatomy and the brain dating all the way back to the 18th century. Of course most of these were his mother’s works and then collected by him personally afterward. Lastly, there was a high definition camera that laid with the lens cap on, laying on the space between the shelf and the binding of books.

Opening his refrigerator, there was nothing but water and bags of blood stolen from the hospitals blood bank. Having to resign to drinking cold blood from a bag instead was defeating, but he needed a quick snack to make up for the meal he had been denied. One mug was all that took up the cupboard space since coffee was the only commodity he drank outside of blood. Sucking the blood from the bag like a Capri sun, Desmond made his way to his bed before plopping himself down and shutting his eyes, sleep was the cousin of death and this is as close as he would get to that feeling.

A Few Hours Later

Desmond awoke just as the sun was setting, the hues of orange and red still kissed the sky as he got changed out of his scrubs and into something with more flair, a grey v-neck long sleeved shirt accompanied with dark fitted blue jeans. His muscles gave shape to the shirt as it melded with the natural shape of his body. Making his way to the festival, it seemed that it was as lively as his dotting resident had spoken of. People watching was among Desmond’s favorite pastimes as he carefully examined his surrounding with the utmost scrutiny. Time passed and he saw the interactions of cliques already forming, that was until the reminiscent smell of iron teased at his nose. A blood curdling scream resonated throughout the festival quickly turning the lively ambiance sour, Desmond’s skin rose in goosebumps as his eyes began to slowly turn black. His next meal. Making his way to the center of the park he was entranced by what he saw next.

A werewolf? In his 300 years of living, Desmond had never encountered the supernatural outside of Abel, his maker, and Mathias the elder who tried to so foolishly take him on. Although the nostalgic memory of Abel teaching him of the existence of these creatures and witches, played through his mind like an infomercial. Desmond never particularly harbored any ill will to these creatures nor did he care for their intentions, all he knew was that if they got in his way they would meet the same fate as anyone else. The trail of blood led to an older gentleman bridal carrying the girl who had her calf sunken into by said werewolf, and also accompanied by the presence of quite the illustrious woman. Two beauties in one day seemed to be quite the lottery for young Desmond, or old rather. Making his way towards the two while gaining speed from his avarice appetite, he was denied his chance to speak when another much younger girl joined the fray. Ignoring the gun shots and the chaos that ensued he was caught off guard once more when the sudden entrance of a grand priest demanded the attention of all the festival participants. His cryptic messaged didn’t sit well with Desmond at all, he had dealt with strong male figures and not once did he ever end on good terms with them, ”St. James Parish, 8:00 PM tomorrow? I’ll have to check that out.

His attention diverted back to his free meal getting away, this was turning out to be more effort than what it was worth. Again he sped up to be a few feet behind the entourage of people ahead of him. The new addition seemed to be a prim and proper, posh young teen with golden hair as famous as Rapunzel and with beauty to match, but she was no contest for the older woman who seemed to be suffering from her own ailments. In one large swoop, Desmond managed to squeeze to the front of them halting their movement. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but see that one of you is hurt severely and the other seems to be quite sick. Oh, how could I be so foolish, my name is Cain and I’m a Trauma Surgeon at NSMC Salem Hospital. I’d be happy to take the girl off your hands and into the proper care” Desmond flashed a devilish smile at Ambrosia as their eyes met, his aura of domineering strength could be felt by most, if not all of the rag tag group. All he had to do now was wait.

---

---

---

The woman nearly left without taking any care to notice, which Ambrosia was thankful for to save from a rather tedious fight to kill off whatever threat she could've been. Just as she gave up the defensive stance, she was halted by a familiar face. Aimee -- a beautiful, blonde babe turned into a vampire to create your cliche vixen that doesn't require any use of her compelling powers to draw in any individual. She was alluring and seductive, almost reminding Ambrosia of her days prior to meeting John and turning into a vampire. They have opposing views on many topics, but Ambrosia happily took her into the coven and accepted her in as her own. Although she could be considered a sight for sore eyes in this moment, Ambrosia was eager to leave the square and get the wounded girl back to her chambers to figure out what to do with her. Just like any member of Ambrosia's coven, she would stress over Aimee's wellbeing and to see her in this setting of alarm and shock worried her.

"Aimee --," Ambrosia furrowed her brows in pain, struggling to hide the affects of holy enchantment that was draining her incredibly, "What are you doing here?". While it was a dumb question, it was all Ambrosia was able to come up with in an attempt to portray her worry for her safety. Ambrosia rested her hand against Aimee's arm as a comforting gesture while she eyed her body up and down to make sure she was clear of any wounds -- she continued hesitantly, "Who else is here? Leave the site immediately, grab whoever else is here, and meet me back at the mansion. The wolves won't enter the square, so wait until the wolves are cleared out enough to make an escape. Don't go out of your way to help those that can't be helped anymore, and don't reveal your identity either, there should be some hunters that are --."

To add to the many interruptions, a sizable man stood before the three of them, bringing forth a peculiar presence that matched no other supernatural that Ambrosia has ever encountered before. It wasn't just the words he spoke, but the change within the atmosphere is what also caused a cold chill to crawl up her spine. Ambrosia readjusted her posture, and it was as if a second wind was hitting her for the sake of survival purposes, as she was faced with an obvious, powerful force that shouldn't be mistaken for as an ally, nor as a surgeon like he explains. As a defensive tactic, Ambrosia would subdue all the pain to show that she would be a woman that shouldn't be messed with.

She's never seen him before, and even though she had decades of memories to flip through, this eery presence would never be forgotten had she felt it beaming out of an individual before. Matching her own dark presence, it was as if there was a subtle war between the two auras, both trying to conquer the atmosphere and overpower the other. The scent of his blood caused her to cringe, but perhaps it was the joining devilish smile that he expressed that added to the thought of him being an enemy at first sight.

Ambrosia sighed deeply, trying to dismiss the negative assumptions that were drawn upon from the continuously irritable encounters. Perhaps it was all in her head that this man was another potential threat. She couldn't move past the sinister presence that rushed in like the winds of a forming tornado. As their eyes met, Ambrosia struggled to keep her eyes from looking astray. Despite her talent with stare-downs, this man was a challenging contender, but Ambrosia still kept her gaze fixated on his.

Ambrosia looked back to the girl who has clearly lost a good amount of blood from stalling so much, but she still declined his offer since she had her own plans for the girl, "It's quite all right, we're taking her to an ambulance that's parked up the street. They're waiting up there to keep the paramedics safe from the bloodshed before all these strange wolves are wiped out. I thank you for your offered assistance, but we can manage." At the end of her comment, she would reveal the gun at her side discreetly, but more obvious to Cain, not to prove that they weren't in need of his assistance, but moreover, to prove that she is capable of defending herself if things were to go wrong between the two of them. Ambrosia would save her compelling ability for if she really needed it, using a lot of her mental capacity to keep her conscious from the piercing enchantment. If Aimee would choose to stay for this ominous scene, she would ask her to do it.

The Lockwood residence was a rural bungalow cottage some distance away from the town centre, bordering on the rugged wilderness and sitting quite smugly on the doorstep of the supernatural. It had three bedrooms, one bathroom, a toilet, a kitchen and a dining room that lead seamlessly into the living room. The garden was large and only a low, unkempt hedge split it from the tall canopy of the surrounding woodland. The garage had a door leading to the basement and both the front and back doors had sizeable porches to relax in the sunshine. It was also positively seeping out all sorts of wards, charms and trinkets to keep monsters out. Abigail was nigh certain that even though these additional security measures, harmless if you hold the right key to pass through (which she did), were the things worsening her nightmares. For the umpteenth time this month, Abigail woke up with a ragged yell and irrational, incomprehensible sobs.

Brooks let out a sigh, it was early afternoon and he had long since perched himself in a rocking chair right outside his door. Hearing Abigails recently recurring wake-up yell snapping his mind out of daydreaming. He acted like he couldn’t hear, just to pretend to give her the belief of privacy to recover from whatever nightmare she dreamed up. He waited, silently rocking back and forth for another fifteen minutes before entering his abode and voicing out: “Abi’! ‘Bout time you start wakin’ up!” before meandering his way towards the kitchen.

Abigail pitter-pattered out of the room in her pajamas. She had the time to compose herself and made a big theatrical yawn which briefly revealed the presence of several fresh purplish scars across her body. “Morning Brooks…” she mumbled as she made a beeline for her cereal box. “Or, uh. Good afternoon?”

“Whatever time suits you most nowadays, Sunshine. How was sleep?” he asked, disguising the question with nonchalance to convey the facade of unawareness. Abigail merely laughed and shook her head - it was more than enough to answer the question.

“You uh,” There was a pause as Abigail poured her cereal. “You got any jobs to do today, or is this your day off too?” There was a twinge of hopefulness in her voice. Unsurprising, given that Abigail spent the most part of this year cooped up inside, primarily on her own.

“I am, yeah. Anythin’ you had in mind?” he asked, smiling lightly as he worked about heating the kettle. Abigail hesitated and stared at Brooks confusedly, mulling over the sentence in her head.

“Wait-...oh, right, you're on your day off. Nice!” Abigail perked up at the thought. She leant in, almost entirely ignoring the soggy bowl of Cheerios in front of her as she spoke eagerly. “I was thinking we go on a really long run this time. All the way out to the-....the fuck?”

“The -what-?” Brooks furrowed his brows, hoping he misheard, as he continued brewing himself a cup of tea. Abigail shook her head brusquely and stood up, chair scraping against the tiles. She scurried over to the window next to Brooks and pushed it open with a grunt.

“Shhhshhhshh. Listen.”

Sure enough, there were faint cracks echoing across the hillsides. Abigail squinted into the town with a frown. “...are those gunshots coming from town or the woods?”

“It ain’t our problem, as long as they’re not aimed at us.” he scoffed, finally finishing brewing a warm cuppa’.

Abigail scoffed. “I thought you were a hunter,” she quipped sarcastically. Both hands gripped onto the frame as she slammed the window down again, going back to sit at the table. “Okay, maybe let's not go on a run today, if people are out there shooting shit. I don't wanna be turned into a coat.” Abigail went quiet and shovelled the rest of her breakfast into her mouth. “... actually, there is something I want to do today. I was meaning to ask for a while now. Do you know William? The sorta….” Abigail waved her spoon vaguely, “...weird but cheery kid, around my age? Works at the butchers?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him a couple of times. He do somethin’?” Brooks perked a brow, seating himself at the duo’s communal table and gently sipping at his still steaming ceramic mug.

“Wh-...how can he do something if I haven't seen him since like….March?” Abigail stared at Brooks flatly. She then hastily looked away, getting nervous. “Well, uh. I think he's a werewolf.” She fiddled with her spoon. “I'm just thinking about asking him for a bit of help, now we know I'm not dangerous, 'cause there's a lot of shit I don't understand still, and you kinda have to-...to be there to understand it, you know? Like, you gotta be a-...a werewolf to get it.” There was a sour tone whenever she said werewolf. Abigail peered at Brooks sheepishly and flashed a little smile at him “problem is, I don't know. And he's like, my only friend out here. And I don't want to tell him without knowing. Basically I'm asking you for help trying to figure out whether my friend’s a werewolf because you're a hunter and you're trained in this.”

“Christ, all you were missing is a stutter.” he paused, letting the teasing comment hang in the air, and took a slurp from his tea. He had been thinking about this for a while, and as experienced as he was with the -hunting- of a werewolf it didn’t mean he knew how to be one. He hadn’t considered anyone young to help her, but as Abigail mentioned the possibility of there being one, it got his gears turning. “Alright, i’ll have a look at the kid.” he eventually agreed.

“Nice. But uh...how? And when? I can send him a text asking to meet up but don't you need anything special for werewolf checking?” Abigail looked a little less nervous now that Brooks agreed but she was still quite frantically playing with her spoon, clearly still stressed out. “Ugh, Jesus…what if he isn't one? I don't even want to do this at all. Fuck,” Abigail abruptly pushed away her bowl disgustedly and leant back on her chair.

“Calm down, and -language-” he scolded with furrowed brows. “Instead of hedging your bets on a maybe, how about I take you to a definite werwolf? I’ll sort it out. Talk to her. See if she wants to be helpful.” he sighed, scratching his cheek before raising his mug for another sip. Even with some thought put into it, the situation was tricky and one he had always dreaded. However keeping Abigail locked up was only going to add to the disaster that was already there.

Abigail was sulking now, arms folded and looking away from the table despondently. “so how are we going to do this? Just wander around town until we find her? Go straight to her house? 'hey, I heard you were a big fu-...a big nasty werewolf, can you teach my niece how to stop chasing her tail when she gets distracted?’ and it has to be 'we’, because it's not as if you can bring her here, she'd burn up before we even get to the front door.”

Brooks didn’t reply for a long while, calmly focusing on his early afternoon tea instead of investing any attention to Abigail's woeful being. Finishing the drop of his tea he finally replied “Yes.”

Abigail groaned in frustration, swinging her legs out as she glowered at Brooks. “Are we going now, or later?” She asked in a measured tone. She looked more restless than ever - no doubt anxious to move, or at least get out of the house.

“I don’t know. There’s a bowl of cereal that’s got your answer though.” he stared at her expectantly, shooting a brief glance down at the bowl containing now long soggy cereal bits in it. Abigail stared at the bowl stupidly, as if expecting a word to inexplicably float to the surface. When the penny dropped she stared at Brooks cooly. She slurped up her cereal loudly, deliberately, never breaking eye contact with her uncle.

“Ata’ girl. Now come on, lock up upstairs i’ll be in the car.” he stood himself with a groan, grabbing the bowl and empty tea mug and placing them in the sink before making his way outside. Abigail couldn't have gone any faster, even if she tried - the slammed doors and jingled locks of a very conscientious Hunter's abode echoed downstairs as Brooks was tying his laces. He had barely turned on the engine before Abigail popped out of the front door with a hefty keyring in hand, fumbling with the front lock. She slammed into the passenger seat and started struggling with her seatbelt.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Abigail asked eventually, since the belt kept jamming. “We haven't told anyone yet. We don't have to tell anyone. Will I get in trouble for this?”

“No.” he shook his head, driving off their premises.

Lizzie was furious with herself. Of all the days to be running late! “stupid vampire, stupid book, stupid holiday” Lizzie muttered to herself as she bounced around her little bookshop at top speed. “Why didn’t I prepare for this, why do I always leave things to the last minute? You’d think I’d’ve learned something over the past decades!” Lizzie continued to berate herself as she rushed around, gathering all the things she’d need for today’s festivities in the front of her store.

When she was convinced she’d gathered all she was going to need for the foreseeable future, Lizzie slowed to normal speed, gathered up a bundle of cloth, opened the door to her store, and walked out the door, towards the stand that had been placed in front of her shop. The moment her body left the shop, Lizzie hesitated. A curious sensation spread across her body, and she shivered. She looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Her gaze drew to a few familiar faces she spotted around the square, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Lizzie shook off the feeling. It was bound to feel a bit crowded, with so many humans and supernatural beings packed together in one place. She resumed her course and started setting up her stall.

In one elegant, fluent movement, she spread the tarp out over the wooden surface. With another fluent wave of her hands, she covered the tarp with a parchment-coloured quilt of her own design. Each square contained the title of a book that held a particular meaning for Lizzie. Because most titles were those of acclaimed works, Lizzie found she could pass it off as a tribute to literature quite easily, without worrying that the quilt would give away too much about herself.

She wasn’t sure what had startled her, but Lizzie was suddenly aware of all the humdrum around her. She really was late. She quickly placed a couple of transparent bookstands on the quilt, and started laying out her collection. Nothing too fancy, a few illustrated editions of popular novels, a bunch of children’s’ books and a hefty box of comics formed the heart of her loot. Of course she also added a couple of fantasy novels. I mean, who wouldn’t, right?

There, that looked nice. And on time too, sounds like quite a crowd was headed this way. Lizzie heard excited voices, and the sound of running feet. When the girl had started screaming, Lizzie had finally looked up. This wasn’t part of the normal celebrations! She saw people running, and then the poor girl, and the wolf... Lizzie couldn’t make sense of what she saw. Who would be stupid enough to expose themselves like that? Then that weird speech, and the gunshots... what the heck was going on in Salem today?

Lizzie looked around the square again and spotted Aimee and Mrs. Sanguis standing together. Mrs. Sanguis looked worried, Aimee seemed almost frightened.
This can’t be good, Lizzie said to herself. Worried about leaving her books out in the middle of whatever this was, Lizzie simply pulled up the four corners of her tarp and just pulled the whole thing together as a package. She opened the door to her shop, dumped the whole thing inside the store off the side of the door, and glanced behind her to make sure she hadn’t dropped anything. Satisfied, she locked the door and walked over to the other two vampires.

“Do you ladies have any idea what’s going on here?” Lizzie addressed Mrs Sanguis respectfully, her attempt at casual conversation lost in the tension in her voice.

The day had been dragging on slowly for Milo. He woke up early in the morning with a quiet yelp, the nightmares that haunted his dreams visited him on a daily now. They used to only come around the anniversary of those special events, but now his death is on a constant loop within his mind, the years he spent drowned in blood prance around his reticular activating system, and the faces of each person he killed live behind his eyelids. Milo knows that he still has a problem when it comes down to feeding but its not as bad as it was before he came to America. The only reason he came was because of his “father”, and ironically it was his old man who tried to educate him on the finer points of death and killing. Milo never really took the things the elder said to heart, he knew the old man had one two many screws loose and need some help but that was still the man who helped him in his time of need and the boy would forever be grateful for that.

Thanks to that same man he lived in a lovely home, in the suburban area of Salem, that had a lot of history. Mathias left it to Milo, saying it belonged to a “good friend” and Milo was honored to receive such a gift. He has been living here for the past 2 years in peace, running around with George (his coven leader) and some for the other young vampires in his coven. There were 5 of them, all under the age of 120, and they looked out for one another. Milo has traveled a lot and seen many different kinds of people, and the only safely offered was by the elder he claimed loyalty too. Especially in the vampire society, age seemed to be a powerful thing, age was something that demanded respect, age is what makes or breaks you in the long run when it comes down to your fellow vampire (at least in Milo’s eyes).

For example, the first time Milo met George and told him his age, George immediately treated Mmilo as if he was some second rate citizen who didn’t pay taxes and then went on to assume the boy would join his little gang. Now Milo did end up in his little group but the boy was never shy to remind them of their differences, Milo told George that he could and would kill them if it came down to it, and George respected that. George was one of the few who saw Milo for what he truly was, not a young vampire still high off the thought of immortality, no Milo was a 90 year old vampire who was trapped neck deep in his own vices. Milo was a young vampire who had done, seen, and experienced more than George could even fathom in his 120 years of existence. Milo was his ally, not his friend, Milo was a member of his coven, not his sworn blood brother, and if he deemed it necessary, Milo would kill him.

Milo’s demeanor, his actions, thought process, all stems back to one of the men who haunts his thoughts, Mathias. The young one can deny Mathias all he wants, but those who catch the other side of him or even stare into his eyes for too long, can clearly see the Elder vampire. It was this very man, among many, that haunted his thoughts and stretched out his day. It was visions of his old master that caused him to not sleep and simply drink away what blood he had left in reserves before getting ready for the celebration that night. George had asked Milo to help out at their booth, what it was for Milo did not know nor did he care, fresh blood would be in the streets and it was a rare opportunity to be able to hunt with little chance of getting caught.

---

The sun was set by the time arrived and took up his position at the “Blood Drive” booth. Hs “friends”, thought it would be a good inside joke, and maybe pick up some willing donors along the way. Milo had been playing his part well, wearing the mask of friend and a young boy all throughout the night. On the side he had been sizing up good victims and trying to avoid George’s stare, the older vampire knew what he was doing, he knew all about Milo’s “habits” and had voiced his displeasure more than once. Milo was not in the mood for another lecture, the night was young, moon was out and food was practically giving itself away on two legs he just wanted to enjoy himself tonight.

He took note of all the other supernaturals attending, it was in the feeling a person gave off. Some were warmer than others, while some would send chills down his spine, Milo learned early on that only the trained could identify who was what. But there was something was in the air, it promised an eventful night and no matter how much Milo thought about it he could not decipher what the dread was, or who it was coming from.

I happened slow, like a sandstorm in the distance. The first scream, then screams, the running, then the toppling, the smell of blood that turned into a permeating odor. Wolfs had began to attack, it started with a single girls cry for help, but now she was in the middle of the square with three other women. Milo was at the booth with George, they both watched frozen in shock as the girl screamed over and over, it was the wolf’s snarl that brought them back to reality. Milo and George dashed to the center of the square as the man on stage began to speak about offering “answers” at the church. He and George had no idea where the other 3 had gone off too, and by the grim look on George’s face Milo could only assume the worst.

“You know they are probably dead right. I mean look around, they probably wandered off to feed of some helpless girl and ended up getting mauled by the wolves.” Milo said letting his true colors show for a moment and his french accent come in thick, he felt like it was appropriate considering the circumstances.

“Of course I know it's a possibility, but they are one of us and I trust in their skills. Plus they still have us if all else fails.” George said with a slimmer of hope in his voice and a fierce fire brewing in his eyes. Milo only responded with a shrug and looked away at the flashing lights and running figures around him. The sound gunshots still echoed off the building and people screaming rang out here and there, all the while Milo could only sigh and think about how fucked this night was. He crouched down and let out a frustrated sigh, mumbling "Enfoncer l'enfant" under his breath with a shake of his head.


Milo’s lighter sounded out back and forth, it was not much over the noise but to the keen of hearing it would be quite annoying. Milo was frustrated and at the moment this was the only thing he could do to sate it. He was trapped at the moment with a hopeful fool who looked as if he wanted to run out into that madness and take Milo with him. All Milo wanted to do was drink, and go home, but now he had to settle for finding a way to put out that glimmer of hope in George’s heart.

---

Sure things were...hectic, but were they truly such a cause for concern? Then again, Aimee never did pay much attention, and if the situation was as serious as Mrs. Sanguis made it, then at the very least, things were not good. Aimee offered Mrs. Sanguis a rather apologetic smile in response to her question of what Aimee was doing here. Did she really want to get into another one of their disagreements right now? Her coven leader was usually less than amused at Aimee's penchant for 'having fun'. Luckily for her, Mrs. Sanguis decided that it was not important--and Aimee would have counted herself lucky were it not for her expression--and instead, would begin to give her instructions.

But as always, that, too, would be put on hold as a man decided to halt their tracks.

Aimee raised an eyebrow that signaled her unimpressed and unconvinced reaction to his explanation. How convenient that a doctor or whatever he was just suddenly popped up right in front of them. She knew that she probably should listen to orders for once, but there was something about this Cain she didn't like. Crossing her arms, the blonde was silent as he spoke, though she didn't like where this was headed. Mrs. Sanguis replied rather cordially, though Aimee would quietly shift herself closer to the woman's side, her own eyes never looking elsewhere. As Lizzie arrived, she was somewhat alright with the added number, though she was unsure if it would either dissuade Cain or feed into whatever he was planning.

Deciding to test the waters, she decided to speak as well. "There's a lot of other people who could surely use your expertise," Aimee pointed out casually, a finger on her chin as she widened her eyes slightly.

---

”Oh Desmond, what pile of shit did you get yourself into this time?’

Today was supposed to be just another ordinary day, one that removed him from the droll monotony of the hospital, despite the peaks of cases where an admittance was battered and bloody. Although, one couldn’t have predicted to walk into a den of wolves, werewolves no less. And the incessant cryptic messages provided by the disappearing priest. Centuries of living without the exposure to mythical beast had served him well. It only made sense that Desmond would have to be exposed to it eventually, what better way to do it than head first? His mind and eyes were fixated on the blood trickling down the girl’s calf like streaks of lighting across a tormented sky. The thumping sound of veins and arteries working in tandem; betwixt trying to clot the blood and the rest of it trying to escape, Desmond couldn’t help but fight all primal instincts urging him to release his fangs and darken his eyes.

While he was fixated on the girl, he also could feel the tension biting the air between him and this venerable beauty in front of him. Her presence also commanded respect, but there was something loosening her grip on the fight, she was weakened. The sudden shift in posture alerted the elder vampire and shifted his focus back to the sultry matriarch. The idea of their private battle taking place in front of others gave way to a rise in Desmond. It was the subtle nuances the two had shared in these opening moments that electrified the air, whether the others felt the war of attrition between the two was unbeknownst to him, but he wanted them to indulge as well. The intimacy they shared so quickly proved deadly, there was something she was hiding or rather she was that something. Desmond’s gaze drew from the bottom of her neck and slowly climbed to her sharp jaw line that led to her supple lips, her strong cheek bones that connected to her slender nose, and finally to those eyes…those tantalizing eyes that carried more secrets than one.

Her eyes were like a vacuum sucking him in, he tried to match her gaze with his own challenge whilst sketching her face in his mind. While he traced and etched her into his memory, his curiosity peaked as the woman spoke, eventually capturing his attention. Her deflection of the situation left him with a coy smile hidden with malicious intent, she was wise and almost saw through his guise of saintly citizen. “Well it seems you have your hands full with having your butler carry the girl. You can barely walk yourself, why don’t I help you to the paramedics and their ambulance? I’ll take the ride with you to the hospital and get you checked out um… Ms., sorry I don’t think I got your name” he pushed a little more, chipping at the situation to see how much he could reveal. It was obvious a woman of her status wasn’t single, but that didn’t stop Desmond. “In case you have your doubts here’s my ID card for the hospital.” Pulling out his wallet, adjacent to his driver’s license was his badge which housed the name of the hospital including its logo of a shield with a light house within it. A picture of him, that seemed to current to be him from 10 years ago, stood next to his title Head Trauma Surgeon, with his name underneath it.

But with the ushering of his wallet his gaze was caught on something else, the reflection of the setting sun on her brandished pistol. Desmond almost let out a scoff between his teeth, but held his reservations. He almost wanted her to use the gun just so he could really let the fear sink into the crowd, the wolves weren’t as dangerous as the nearly 300 year old vampire in sheep’s clothing. Just before he could challenge the queen bee, another one of her dotting litter appeared like a festering wound. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as his patience was wearing thin, he looked to see his new addition to the audience before him. Another young female with dark features that almost matched Ambrosia’s, but not quite as intense. She was quite the opposite actually, she seemed rather endearing and quaint as opposed to the posh rich blonde who stood next to him. “Well three’s a crowd is it not? I think you mean ladies and gentlemen” Desmond, almost too swiftly, closed his wallet and stretched out an open hand to the soon to be courted woman. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you? I’m Cain a local surgeon who by happenstance came across this wounded girl. I’m just here to help you lovely ladies.”

Before he could continue or return to his ongoing bout with Ambrosia, the feisty young blonde teen interjected with her own poison. Desmond diverted his attention to the opulent girl, “I suppose you’re right, but what kind of surgeon would I be if I didn’t focus on the initial victim? Being hauled off by some savvy women no less. Plus, I wouldn’t be much use if I went back into the fray and was torn apart by one of these savage beasts I’ve never seen before. I’m sure once I see to this young ladies safety, I’ll be able to join the front lines once again and help any others who are injured” Desmond took a step towards Aimee, invading her personal space, “Are you hurt by any chance?”

---

---

By this time, it was obvious that these so-called 'rabid' wolves were getting out of hand and a lot of lives were being lost to an unfortunate attack. This caused speculation to all that witnessed and experienced this event, spawning from the wolves that oddly outwitted their victims and the apathetic pastor that preached at a perfectly timed attack. The factors suggested that this attack was somehow fixed, involving more dark and twisted motives behind a foreseen chain of unfortunate events. The screams and cries of victims echoed through the streets, and it took a more 'elite' force than any police group to eradicate these wolves to bring the town's sanctuary back into place.

Police sirens wailed through the air as a line of cop cars blocked the streets that would enter within the rest of the town. Several policemen stormed in, armed, but were also outsmarted by the preying wolves. The gunshots that echoed through the air was a mix between the brave policemen's weaponry, but also the pistols that carry deadly silver bullets of an opposing group to this attack. Quick as they were with a knack and natural talent for combat, they whizzed through the scene, slaying wolf after wolf with inhuman feats to counter the wolves' rabid and aggressive prowess. They sported regular clothing, suggesting that they were ordinary citizens of Salem, but their fearless initiation advocated that they were specially trained militants that were undercover. To those within the supernatural realm -- it was obvious. A supernatural or a hunter would be the only individual that would offer such a formidable threat to fend off a group of rabid werewolves. What could be gathered from this situation is: an attack from werewolves that somehow were rabid enough to enter the streets as a giant pack, while a never-before seen group of supernaturals fended them off to save the community. This proposed some sort of ongoing battle between opposing factions.

The screams were dying down while chattering and gasping from an audience in awe of the defensive group of supernaturals filled the air. As the wolf attack began to slowly, but surely, become eradicated, the citizens were finding safety within the square of within the surrounding businesses. For moments, the battle would move from wolves versus innocent victims to wolves versus a defending, supernatural force. This enhanced the growing speculation, but also caused a series of different views within the minds of the clueless citizens and the clueless supernaturals. Was Salem becoming a place of danger? Was this the beginning of the foreseen destruction within the supernatural realm?

---

---

Desmond seemed to enjoy the stare-down that the two were having, which Ambrosia found slight distress in from finding such a possible threat to her coven. His mannerisms suggested that he wouldn't become an ally to her, but more of an enemy within the shadows. It spawned an uneasy feeling within Ambrosia's body from his malicious characteristics and his sly commentary, but even more so from him understanding that Ambrosia was in a weakened state. At the reveal of his hospital ID that showed proof of his occupation, a speculation began to form in her mind. His youthful appearance with such a title that was given to individuals with extensive experience and education would suggest that he was perhaps a genius, a liar, or someone who defies the laws of age. She took in the ID as best she could, trying to remember every bit of it, even the logo and the insignia to try to figure out if it was fake or not.

During a short silence while he presented his card, Ambrosia spoke sternly, "Sanguis." She paused to look him in the eyes with fearlessness and intimidation, "You may call me, Ms. Sanguis." The reveal of her name was not meant to just have him match an alias to her face, but to prove to him that her name matched a title that was whispered about within the streets of Salem. Ms. Sanguis, a known, peculiar individual with a dark, eery presence that fills the room and causes apprehension to any effected person, would hopefully create some sort of distress within his gut.

Ambrosia whipped her head around to look at Lizzie as she approached and questioned the situation. Before Ambrosia could come up with a response, Cain had already started on with another malign comment to properly introduce himself to another acquaintance. Ambrosia sighed softly, before returning her gaze to Cain.

Without giving a proper answer to Lizzie, Ambrosia furrowed her brows in anger as Cain stepped closer to Aimee. Ambrosia would intercept immediately due to her automatic response to one of her coven members being threatened or provoked, stepping between them to shield Aimee from any form of attack with her body. Ambrosia didn't care for how close she was to Cain, her nose becoming infiltrated with the scent of blood, whether it be his, his patients, or the victims on the streets, she knew it had an aroma that suggested inhuman properties. Given the circumstances, she chose not to assume if he was of supernatural descent.

Ambrosia would lift her gun discreetly until the tip was met with his gut, but she became distracted by the sudden defense that the community was granted. Between the crowding people and Cain's body that served an obstruction of view, she could sense a strange level of skill from the individuals that would be slaying the wolves. As the distressed citizens began to die down into chattering and gasps, Ambrosia would lock her gaze back to Cain as she spoke out to Aimee, "Aimee - get this man out of here." With that statement, it was obvious that Ambrosia was referring to their vampiric compelling ability, "I don't have time to deal with this now, and this could be our only opportunity to flee the scene. Do it now."

---

As things calmed in the square and its surrounding perimeter, Genevieve took a moment to take stock of everything with a bit more clarity. Her own role in the defense of the grounds was now greatly diminished thanks to an empty magazine, and as she hadn't expected this much trouble, she had left her spare at home. It was a particularly foolish decision that she was already chiding herself on. If it wasn't for Blaine's quick reflexes, she might have been injured or worse. That however, raised other concerns. For the last few days she had been working to keep very clear dividers in her life between what she wanted secret, and what she allowed others to know. Assuming Blaine knew anything of the supernatural, then there would be some pretty strong signs that she was a hunter.

It didn't matter that she didn't associate with a lodge, or that her family weren't hunters, normal people generally regarded her kind as strange and on the level with conspiracy theorists. At least, the more open ones put out that image. Watching and making sure that they were now fully in the clear, Genevieve holstered her pistol, thumb brushing over the handle of her combat knife resting in its own. "Thank you for the save." Coming up to Blaine's side, she glanced over the woman to see if there were any injuries, though it was a pointless endeavor since her first-aid skills were less than adequate. Once more, her tone was a bit awkward, though this time it was more for the fact that it was rare for her to be in someone else's debt like this.

"I'm sure you caught on already, but those weren't normal wolves. Not by far." Maybe she wouldn't think she was crazy if she just went and told it like it was, though considering what they just went through it wouldn't be a hard sell. "Werewolves." Genevieve almost spat the word, her lip curling in distaste. "Most likely ferals, though I wouldn't be surprised if the Salem pack was involved somehow. To think these creatures were once human." Her bias against them was showing now, her stance more rigid and on guard as she glared at the fallen outside the square. The few wounded ones were simply laying in the street, unable to move beyond weakly scrabbling at the pavement to try and limp away. Such was the power of silver.

"Unfortunately I left my spare mag at home, so I don't think it would be wise to head back out." More gunshots sounded off around the square, joined by sirens and fresh shouting as it seemed the local lodges had decided to get involved. "Looks like the other Hunters decided to do their duty, means we can take a moment to see about helping the wounded in the square. What do you think, Blaine?"

Blaine was surveying the damage. Her eyes stoic, but also sad. On the ground a few feet from her lay the bodies of the Weres Genevieve had dispatched. And Blaine could still catch a whiff of the scent of the ones who'd fled. Her hand gripped the baton harder for a few seconds before she regained control of her raging wolf and she collapsed it and stowed it in its pouch. The Alpha raised her head and sniffed the air, searching for the scent of her wolves. When she was able to discern their presence on the winds, separating them from the smell of blood and horror, she felt a little bit at ease.

Blaine sensed Genevieve approaching before the other woman spoke. What she said surprised Blaine, but most of all saddened her deeply. She was shocked to say the least that her newfound friend had any knowledge of the supernatural. But it was immediately outweighed by the venom in her voice when she spat the word 'werewolves' out. Blaine closed her eyes and her posture diminished a bit, her shoulders hunching. She was distraught enough to not even contemplate the implications of Genevieve having knowledge of the supernatural world, coupled with her skill set. She even missed what would have been otherwise a giveaway when Genevieve referred to the Hunters as the 'other Hunters'. As it stood she blinked once. Then twice and when she was sure the Were glow was no more present in her eyes, she turned and looked upon the other woman with sad eyes.

"I'm not sure what's going on. But I know one thing." Blaine glanced at the fell Were, continuously saddened by the unnecessary waste of life. "These creatures were sick. Wolf, werewolf, nothing would betray their nature so much so unless it is not well for whatever reason. Putting them down was a necessity and a mercy. But I take no pleasure in it." The Alpha hesitated then stepped closer to Genevieve. "And you're very welcome. I wouldn't..." She started to say something, her eyes darkened and reconsidering she just shook her head. "You're right, we should try to help the injured. I don't have my supplies with me, but we can at least escort people to ambulances. Help with triage." Blaine could hear the wail of sirens all around them. The sound almost managed to suppress the cries of pain and shock and horror.

---

Her eyes widened slightly, though as the urge to step forward came, Mrs. Sanguis would instead step between them. Crap, that was a threat, wasn't it? Could she take him? It wouldn't be the first time Aimee would deal with someone bigger than she was. But that wouldn't do, despite the situation the last thing she wanted was another lecture from her Coven Leader. Again. Why the hell was he so insistent? He couldn't possibly care about the girl, it had to be something else. Clucking her tongue, she placed her hands on her hips, clearly unhappy. She hated indirect people--why couldn't he just mind his own business? She shifted her weight from one leg to the other as Mrs. Sanguis spoke, though she raised her eyebrows as she would speak to her. Ah, how she loved Mrs. Sanguis' orders. What was it about powerful women that she loved so? Wait, no, she needed to focus, she could tuck that thought aside and save it for later.

Slowly stepping into Cain's line of sight, she locked her eyes with his, flashing a rather brilliant smile. She was usually subtle about her powers, and compelling was one of her favorites. "With all this commotion, I'm sure you'll want to take my advice more seriously," Aimee repeated herself, raising her head slightly as she spoke. "There's a lot of other people here--go tend to them." She ordered him, her head motioning towards the other injured.

---

There was a curious moment as Genevieve listened to Blaine, catching that she was about to say something but stopped herself. The woman's eyes seemed strange in the short glimpse she had, but rather than dwell on it she decided to move on and perhaps question her later. "You're right though…" She began, attitude shifting slightly into a more introspective one as her mind worked on theories. "They purposefully attacked into a large crowd during the day, something that even the freshly turned tend to avoid. Not only that, but they did have a strangeness about them…" Genevieve calmed herself, the threat of the werewolves gone for now and leaving her able to think more clearly.

If only Blaine knew the threat these creatures posed… No, she was irate enough that her own nature had to be shown to her "friend" so early on. The rest she would have to take care of back home, where she had her books and could make some calls to the local witches. Perhaps one of her contacts might have an idea on what could cause werewolves to suddenly berserk like this.

"I'll leave the more serious wounds to you and focus on getting those who can walk to the EMTs." Times like this really made her wish that she had focused more on battlefield medicine back in basic. With only the bare minimum in combat triage, she could really only deal with patch jobs and surface wounds, of which she was sure there were a minority. Countless innocents were holding bloodied limbs close to themselves, trying to staunch bite wounds. Hopefully whatever sickness drove the weres to attack had also dulled the spread of their disease.

Genevieve went to work immediately, letting Blaine know that she would be within the square and try to stay visible. That part was more easily said than done, as most of the fair goers had sought shelter within the perimeter of the arcane barrier, leaving it quite crowded in areas. She focused on helping those on the outer areas first, lending a shoulder for those who could walk, and calling out for the roaming medics to those who couldn't. Others not too far away seemed to be in some kind of debate over the care of the injured, though she swore she recognized one of the women as one of the more prominent vampires. It wasn't really the time to be hunting right now though, and she rarely had conflict with Salem's vampire coven, so she left them be but made sure that she had been seen as she passed. If that woman really was the coven leader, then she would know the huntress by sight.

Lizzie watched the exchange between Ms. Sanguis, Aimee and the stranger with amazement. Ambrosia was usually much more subtle and careful around people. And much more charismatic. The almost unveiled hostility and immediate obvious mutual dislike surprised her.
Then again, the man was giving off a rather strange, unsettling vibe. And if he really was a doctor, why was he so focussed on this one girl. Surely the EMT's would be more qualified to handle this level of injury? And he should be focussing on the others, so they could focus on rescuing her? There was definitely something fishy about this whole situation.

Lizzie almost breathed an audible sigh of relief when Aimee ordered the man to leave, without the girl. She managed to resist the urge to take a deep breath, and concentrated on ignoring the man in front of her. While the other two ladies were concerned with him, Lizzie looked around, trying to take in everything that was going on around her. Part of her mind remained focussed on the mystery of the injured girl, and the strange man's curious obsession with her, but most of her attention went to taking in everything else that was going on.

---

Desmond snapped back to the one and only captivating mistress before him among the sea of fair maidens. There was something about Ambrosia, there was something scathing at the sides of her body itching to get out. With authority the last name that held all the power, slipped from her lavish lips. While her last name did hold its own weight in gold and power, little names meant little to nothing at all to the tenured vampire. Had last names meant anything, he would have kept his own or taken over Abel’s estate and power. Such menial and trivial human tendencies were beneath him and yet here he was, pushing the position he had within the hospital onto the woman surrounding him. There’s eyes clashed again like the steel of blades from long deceased samurai. The fire flickered his dead calloused eyes, she had once stolen his curiosity, but now had his attention. “A beautiful name to match such a beautiful woman. Sanguis..” The name played and danced on his tongue, before slithering back into his mouth. “Sanguis, isn’t that a combining form of Latin to mean blood? Who says Latin is dead? I’m a connoisseur of ancient languages.” Well he wasn’t sure if Ambrosia was like him, made up of the same black blood, he’d make sure he’d slide the idea into her head.

What the woman lacked in bodily health she made up for with robust action, interjecting in Desmond’s séance like a protective mother only drove his curiosity. Should he snap one of the girls next or drain the injured girl in front of them? The environment was too hostile and aware for him to act out, Desmond could see why many supernaturals didn’t get along with werewolves. The soft yet tantalizing aroma given off of Ambrosia was mixed with her scent of weakness, but something else…a dark smell as if she was rotten or dead even. The prodding and poking of the gun against his flesh made him squirm a bit before realizing what she had done. With raised eyebrows and a smile drawn on his face, “I’m sorry Ms Sanguis, I don’t think we need to say our peace now. We’ve only just met and it looks like most of whomever those guys are have this under control. Besides leaving such a task for a girl like this is a little below yourself don’t you think?” His hand had slipped unnoticed and had wrapped itself around Ambrosia’s hand guiding her finger to the trigger in desperate hopes she would shoot. Whether she would shoot him or not would be left up to her in this game of chicken, was he crazy or just that confident he wouldn’t die? Whatever her decision his icy cold touch would be enough to send chills down her spine.

His next challenge which he adverted his eyes from, suddenly came back into the picture. The young blonde posh girl lest he forget, tasked with the unscrupulous task of seeing Desmond off. Ignorant to the underling meaning behind Ambrosia’s words, Desmond decided to play ball with the petite diva. Their eyes locked and confusion bled into his mind when he saw the overzealous smile flash on her face. Desmond could feel himself getting lost in his words, the memory of Abel first attempts at compelling him raced to the forefront of his mind. Compelling was something Desmond was never good at, but the lack thereof allowed him an anchor of resistance to the attempts of being compelled by others. Unable to be compelled fully by an Elder made the foolish attempts made by the young doe quite laughable. “I should go tend to other peo—" Desmond said humoring her attempts before snapping back, “Just kidding your silver tongue and looks will have to do better than that. Now where were we?” Desmond said turning his sight back to Ambrosia and the injured girl. “Time is ticking ladies.”

---

---

The skies were beginning to become clear of clouds to create the perfect setting of the aftermath of a dramatic event, signifying the calm after the tragedy. The horizon above the water took on a colorful array of reds and oranges that glistened along the water, shining on top of Salem to give it a bronze glow with warm tones. As the local authorities and ambulance trucks began to move into the scene promptly, the lights of the trucks would disrupt the beauty of the sunset, and the sirens would subdue the weeping and the screams of the affected victims. The contrasting environment was the perfect backdrop for death.

As soon as the attack was over, many people scattered about to find family and friends, while others fled the scene to retreat back to the safety of their homes. Local news broadcasters swarmed the scene to try to get information from any person that would walk by them, while the injured were being treated by as many medical EMT's that Salem could call for. Those that were deemed safe and unharmed were either selected for interview, or ordered to return back home so the scene can properly be investigated.

While the event was very unordinary to everyone within Salem, the local authorities remained confidential about the situation, keeping the news broadcasters away from the scene so they can investigate and give a proper story to the public. But the strangeness of the event couldn't be held in as tight as the authorities would hope for, as the Salem natives told their own versions of the scene to many broadcasters.

For the supernaturals, this meant the beginning of exposure.

---

---

---

A vampire.

Ambrosia had already suspected it, but she was still shocked at his ability to nonchalantly, and effortlessly, null the affects of Aimee's compel. Although Aimee was still young and new to her vampiric life, her ability to compel was far superior than most that shared the same level of experience. This, and his mannerisms, implied that he had several years behind him, and his fearlessness within Ambrosia's presence is something that she commended him for. From this encounter, she would learn just that from him -- boldness, as well as his wordy and fraudulent comments that he coats it with. Ambrosia had to think of a plan quickly, though she felt a sense of safety given how public the area boasted. Scanning around the crowd, she spotted an EMT roll up close-by to them. With attempts to stall the situation, Ambrosia replied to his comments with a sly smirk to match his own, "So you know Latin? It is a common reaction, that you're having, but many, in turn, believe that it's very -- fitting, as do I." Ambrosia hesitated before continuing on with a cold tone, "Red is my favorite color." She licked her lips lightly, revealing a sharp fang for just a second.

As the ambulance began to release a flock of EMT's, Ambrosia's eyes narrowed on one who would stop in his tracks. Continuing on with the process, he turned to them and approached Mr. Edwards with a tone of urgency, "Her leg has been injured bad. Let me take her from you!"

Ambrosia turned to the EMT under her control, "Please take her, and see to it that she gets proper care. She was, unfortunately, bitten by one of those savage beasts."

Mr. Edwards, confused at first, willingly gave up the girl to the man before realizing Ambrosia's angle on the situation. As the EMT would run off with the girl, Ambrosia then spoke with irritation, "Now, Cain, perhaps you should assist the rest of the victims of the event, as we're going to make our leave."

Ambrosia glanced over to see the face of one of Salem's dexterous and adept huntresses. Although Ambrosia never got her name, her face was very memorable, but moreover, her skill-set was something that couldn't, and shouldn't, be forgotten. A quick assumption was formed in her mind, thinking that she may have been the individual that created this boon with holy reagents of some sort. Perhaps this was her nervousness resurfacing since the pain from the enchantment still lingered and grew stronger. Turning back to the situation, Ambrosia would turn to watch Cain to see what his next move would be.

Devin was uneasy. Judging from Blaine's expression. His Alpha was in her protective mode. After all, this was their territory. They were protectors of Salem. As he heard her order, the Male Wolf nodded. "Stay safe." Was the last thing Devin said to her; before he seperared from his Alpha. He hoped, she knew what she was doing. Devin took one last glance over his shoulder, towards Blaine and the woman she had been talking to. Against all odds, hoping that his Alpha could handle the situation from this side of the spectrum.

Hopefully she would not get hurt. Or worse, the foreign threat would not expose her...or the rest of the pack for what they truly were. They didn't need to be hunted down by anyone...especially not in the mess of all of this.

With the right direction in front of him; Devin began to make his way through the hectic and panicked crowd. Keeping his senses on high alert; his sharp eye vision, his keen sense of smell and hearing were all peeled out for his pack Members. Whilst trying to stay clear away from the threat of the new pack in Town. Devin did not want to phase in the middle of the town square...and get added to the casuality list. If he were to be hunted down by the Town's Hunters or else.

The elder Wolf hoped, that his pack members. Especially young Katalina were safe. The poor girl wasn't really close to any of them. But this would be a terrible time to find herself alone; struggling to keep calm, especially if her senses were screaming at her to release her wolf, in the midst of all panic.

The screaming and cries of help seemed to echo inside of his head. Devin had picked up his pace slightly, dodging another set of Wolves that were among the town Square. Pulling innocent people out of the way of oncoming threats. "Help me...please help." One young girl fell into his arms, close to blacking out. She had a few injuries on her. Her leg worst of all was bleeding. Tugging off his jacket quickly...he tied it around her leg to stop the bleeding. Scooping the young woman up with ease..he began to carry her to Safety, whilst on the search for his pack. Soon enough he spotted the familiar faces. "There you are, is everyone okay?" The elder asked looking between his fellow pack members and the young child, that was in their small group.

The scents of wolves hit her like a wall causing her to freeze, she didn't know if they were wolves of her pack or not, at first. Then she heards screams mix in with snarls and growls. Katalina knew enough about the pack to know they would not attack the townspeople especially so publically and brutally. This was the last thing the girl needed at this point.

Turning quickly, she began making her way out of the square. She needed to get out of there and to some place alone quick, but with William suddenly showing up infront of her... Kat highly doubted that would happen anytime soon. Her heart rate increased as her irritation grew, watching Volber knock down a wolf targeting a young boy. For a moment she saw her sister in the young boy before Volber knocked the wolf away and it had spiked her irritation to a dangerous level. Luckily, for now, it was at a sort of tolerable level... although having the young boy latched onto her jacket was not helping her in the slightest.

At first, Katalina stayed silent as she followed after William and Volber with the child attached to her. But as she listened to the sounds of chaos mixed with the scent of the rogue wolves and blood... her irritation only began to grow to the point where she coud feel her hand shaking, even when she balled it into a fist and focused on breathing slow and deeply.... her hands shook. Her instincts were screaming at her to shift not only to rid herself of the irritation but to also better protect herself. Kat didn't know how much more she could take of everything going on before she lost control.

Coming to a stop she shook the child off gently, lightly pushing him towards Volber and William before opening her mouth to speak, getting cut off by the arrrival of Devin. When he asked if everyone was okay Kat let out a shaky, sarcastic laugh. "How could anyone be okay right now? Utter fucking chaos has broken out." Running a hand through her hair, messing it up. "I need to get the hell out of here.." she half muttered, half growled. Katalina looked to her hands as they shook and she closed them into fists, letting them drop to her eyes as she shut her eyes releasing a shaky breath. When her eyes opened for a brief second they almost seemed to glow before they went back to normal. A sign she was in a dangerous state.

It was good that Katalina didn't complain when they had appeared - instead, going off with them without a word. William could practically see how irritated she was. It was weird. William knew that she wasn't used to being a werewolf and the likes, but this was beyond that. Even if all their instincts were screaming for them to transform, it shouldn't affect them that much. Unless... Unless of course, Katalina hadn't turned for a while which meant that her want to transform would have been heightened.

Before he could say anything to her, however, Devin had arrived carrying a small girl. Volber gave the young boy that was pushed towards him a few words off to the side so that he would stop crying. William couldn't help but feel bad for the children. Many of them were separated from their parents and he only wished that none of them lost their parents this night. But considering the carnage, he guessed that it may not be the case. "Relatively." William replied to Devin after Katalina snapped at him. She was right though. No one would be 'okay' in these conditions. But at least they were unharmed. Volber had done pretty good job in manhandling the werewolves, though they would have all done better should they have actually had weapons to defend themselves with.

There was something good about having sharp senses - and something bad as well. William looked over to Katalina who was muttering about getting out of there, and she was shaking because of what seems to be frustration. He turned to face her, levelling his eyes with her. He saw them open with the bright glow that accompanied the werewolves once they've turned. It was out of instinct, and it means that she was going to transform at some point in this span of time. This wasn't good. This was not good at all. William knew that there was little he could do. Hide her? It would be difficult, but there might be witnesses. If she were to transform here, people might mistake her for one of the rabid werewolves and attack her.

"Hey, Kat, calm down. We'll find a place for you to transform later, but it's too dangerous. Just hold on for a bit." William would have been more than glad to have dragged her away to the forest where she could shift, but with the werewolves around, it wouldn't be too good of an idea. Just then, Blaine's telepathic message to the werewolves invading their home shot through him like a bullet, surprising him, as she released her full dominance to show who was boss, whether they understood or not. He saw some of the werewolves cower beneath the pressure. He turned to the others. "This is our chance. Let's go." He told the group. Volber nodded and took point once more and the young boy was behind him as he was too scared to approach William who was near the raging Katalina.

Devin couldn't help but sigh slightly, as Katalina was so snappy with him. "That's not how I... he trailed off with a sigh. He didn't mean his question to come off like, it had. But he was just worried for his pack, and trying to make sure that they were okay. But there didn't seem to be much point in arguing with her about it. She always took his questions the wrong way, especially if she was under-stress. He didn't want to make things worse, than they already were.

It seemed like only William, knew what Devin had been getting at. He nodded slightly. "I am just glad, none of you are hurt." he said relieved, that his pack was safe. Unlike the rest of the town's citizens, whom were in danger. Holding the young girl in his arms, he kept her secure in his strong grip. He wondered whom her parents were...or in worst case scenario, used to be. Seeing the state Kat was in, Devin's eyebrows creased with concern. She looked like she was close to phasing. This was not good. They didn't need her exposing herself, and worse case...them along with her. He hoped, one of them...might help calm her down. When he was about to say something to her. He bit his lower lip instead. Letting William handle it instead. Not wanting to get snapped at again.

Feeling the anger and dominance of his Alpha. Devin hoped Blaine knew what she was doing. Especially with that hunter, around her. Not known to his knowledge, as he assumed the woman by her side to be normal citizen. But if she exposed herself, she might end up getting hurt along with the intruding pack.

"Let's try and find a safe place for Kat, to turn." Devin suggested, as he walked with his pack, keeping close to Volber and the young boy, as extra protection. In case Katalina would burst any second now.

A deep shaky breath left the girls lips. Katalina wanted nothing more than to go back to be at her apartment, her safe haven. Had she been there she probably wouldn't be dealing with this chaos happening. Hell, she may even be able to hold off shifting until the full moon but now there was no chance of it. Especially as she felt a wave of pain through her body as she continued to fight the inevitable.

"It needs to be sooner than later." Kat commented after Devin spoke about finding a safe place for her to turn. She hadn't meant for it to come out as rude and angry as it did, but it basically came out as a growl. Part of her felt bad, but another part of her knew it was for the best as it meant maybe after this they would leave her alone even more.

As the group made their way away from the center of town, the two children with them more waves of pain hit Katalina and one time she couldn't help but freeze as one knocked the breath out of her causing her to gasp. The young wolf shakily took deep breaths before opening her eyes and looking at the other wolves of the group. "If I begin to shift before we make it somewhere safe, kill me. I don't want to hurt anyone, I'd rather be dead before I do that." Her eyes held a pleading look, meaning she was serious. "Please. I would never forgive myself."

So they couldn't argue with her she resumed walking again, trying to get further from putting people in danger but she still didn't feel like she was far enough away. Not yet at least. She trusted that the men would do what was right for the community if it came to it. That's what Katalina was relying on, even if it meant leaving her sister behind. It would mean that her sister was safe and didn't have a murderous wolf as a sister though, which is better than Katalina living with that if it were to happen. She would never trust herself around her sister again.

William nodded in agreement with Katalina. While her wording was certainly not as calm, William knew it was only because of how she was feeling right now. The way she was feeling was certainly affecting some part of him - the wolf part of him had already been trying to claw its way out ever since earlier as the need to transform and protect was great but he had subdued it. However, with Katalina's current state, the wolf was fighting for control. But two out of control rabid werewolves was not what they needed right now.

That was when Katalina suddenly told them that if she should hurt anyone because they might not make it to a safe place fast enough, that they should just end her then and there. Before he could say anything, she began walking once more. A part of him wanted to yell at her - why would she throw away her life just like that? Another part wanted to ask why she didn't trust them enough to keep her in place. He had been looking after her transformations since he found out for two reasons - so she would have someone to guide her and to have someone to stop her. But he kept silent as he knew that Katalina would not appreciate his optimistic view.

"A safe place?" Volber questioned as he looked at the group. "With everyone either inside or in the middle, we should be able to find a place. Come." He said before changing directions and heading to a small alleyway leading to a more lesser known part of Salem. "While I do not assure that no one will hear, it should be disguised under the howls of the outsiders." He pointed out before leading them into a small run down apartment building which was obviously in a state of disrepair. "I will keep the children out of harm. You three go inside." He ordered.

"Yeah, this place should be good enough." William reasoned as he looked upon the building that had no use for now. "It's abandoned too so that's a plus." He then looked around to see if anyone was watching them. He was pretty sure that the two children didn't understand what was happening but felt safe around them - so it was probably all right for them to be outside when it happens. William took in a sharp inhale - blood, werewolves far off. No one else was here except for some traces of human activity, but not much else. "It's all clear." He told the group.

Now it was only time to wait for what would happen. William could hear the approach of the authorities, but hopefully no one would track them back - well, he hoped that Blaine would find them just in case things turned sour. William did not want to hurt her, and he didn't want anyone else hurt as well. Volber stayed outside to keep an eye on the children. Maybe someone would come and claim them. Hopefully that was the case, since he wouldn't be able to take care of these two kids alongside William considering their... conditions.