by Aya DeAniege
If they could find an alpha who granted them protection and life, nothing could sway their loyalty.
Thanks to its magic, the pup could both hide what it was but also project its puppy like qualities onto those who could read minds. Helen reacting to the hostility in the bar made her both prey as well as the plaything of the berserker.
When wolves and vampires fought, those with power fell first, but only to those like the pup.
“I need help,” I said.
“Help?” Daisy asked, frowning. “I don’t understand. Lu is dead. Death is in the wind. Unless he’s found one like your little Progeny to ride, he no longer offers more to you than a nuisance.”
“He can’t ride either of us,” I said. “Before she left, she made certain of that. Death will find no comfort amongst the vampires if he survived the first night.”
“Banishing him from vampires does not kill him, she was smart to suspect as much. But didn’t tell you that herself, why?”
“The problem I have,” I paused and sighed. “The Great Maker promised me that she would deal with my Maker’s Maker. She didn’t, or didn’t find her in time.”
“Bau,” Daisy whispered.
“I need your skills. I also need clean blood. I ate human food tonight, that has always kept me from using my powers. Then I just need to know where she is before she tries to land on my head. The rest is just a matter of whose powers are stronger.”
“You didn’t kill him though, she’s not coming for you,” Daisy whispered.
“As far as she knows, it’s my doing. I made Helen. I brought out Lu’s jealousy. I brought the Great Maker into this, and so it is my fault. Of course, she’s probably hunting Helen as well.”
“Ow!” Helen shouted. “You bugger, biting isn’t nice!”
“Heel,” Daisy said over her shoulder idly while still watching me. “You, Quin, you really know how to find trouble. This is a first world city.”
Except, Daisy should have turned around. When Helen protested, she got red in the face and she grabbed the back of the pup’s neck. I was only seeing things out the corner of my eye, however, as my whole focus was on Daisy.
“I know.”
“In the modern era,” she protested.
“I know. Help me, Daisy, please, I’m begging you.”
“That’s not how wolves beg,” Troy hissed at me.
I turned and glared at him. The brat had enough of a backbone to glare back at me accusingly.
Of course, I know how wolves begged. Troy may have been right. I should have done it immediately.
Helen was there, though, and I didn’t know what her reaction would be. While human she had stood against Lu for saying something about me. What would be her reaction to seeing her Maker beg the help of a mortal?
I swallowed my pride, however. She was distracted, which made that part easy. Helen wouldn’t witness what I did to get the help I needed. Neither Balor or Troy would bring it up again.
They knew better.
I sunk, knees on the floor and slightly apart. My hands settled on the floor between my knees, palms on the floor. I had to bend my elbows out slightly because Daisy was a shorter woman.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t kill as efficiently. Just meant that her tooth and claw were closer to your internal organs when she marched up to you.
When begging from wolves, one had to make certain that one’s head was lower than hip level.
Why?
Because they were animals, that’s why.
It’s the one thing about the wolves that has always disgusted me.
Begging…
It didn’t mean whimpering or whining or grovelling. No, begging for wolves didn’t even mean offering up one’s neck. Because in their world, if you were begging, they already had a chance to sink their teeth into your flesh and rip out your heart.
One begged by lowering down, then looking up.
Oh, for the males, such a position has already probably clicked in their minds. But for those too innocent to see the implication: wolves who begged were whored out to the pack.
Not just the Bitch or alpha, to the entire pack.
The position meant lowering oneself to crotch level. An alpha would just unzip his fly and so it would begin. Daisy would have to drop her pants, though it was my understanding that Daisy’s desires went a great deal… more colourful than I’d like to go.
Colourful like the rainbow, if I recall correctly.
Wraith’s voice whispering in my mind almost made me laugh. He held no judgement, we both knew what it was like to do whatever was required to survive, even if that meant whoring ourselves out to do so. The body would recover and one day I’d bleed the idiot who made me their whore.
Daisy reached down and stroked the side of my head.
“Quintillus begging, boys, what do you say to this? Orgy?”
“As much as I’d like my cock buried in that ass,” one of the boys said, “you’d best turn and look at the pup.”
I kept my eyes on Daisy because as the one begging, that was where I remained. She turned and looked over her shoulder, to the pup, then down to me. I had no idea what she saw, not until she stepped around me, grabbing a fistful of hair to drag my face upward.
Helen had the pup on the booth and was sitting on his back. He may have been a berserker, even had magic of his own, but he was still a preteen boy against a woman. With her sitting on his back, over his ribcage even?
If she stayed there much longer, he would suffocate. If his ribs weren’t breaking.
“Choose a proxy,” Helen said, her fingers tangling in the pup’s hair as she pulled his head up almost gently.
I didn’t need two guesses to figure out what she was doing. Being careful so as to not break a mortal body in her anger.
“What if I choose the boy?” Daisy asked.
“So choose the boy, but choose a proxy,” Helen snarled back, flashing her teeth at Daisy.
Daisy lowered her nose to the top of my head and sniffed. I could guess what she was trying to detect, but whatever it was, was probably a pheromone. As strange as it may be, she was smelling my emotion and willingness to submit. She sniffed again just to be certain, then straightened.
“Balor,” Daisy said.
“Whatever the Bitch desires,” Balor said, sinking to his knees humbly.
It should be noted that Balor spoke the title with reverence and all due respect. Absolutely nothing about his tone of voice or body spoke of his being for or against Daisy’s choice. He was simply submitting to her will.
Which is how one should behave when in a den of wolves.
The pup whimpered and was suddenly at Daisy’s side, pressed tight against her leg as it continued to whine. She caressed the creature’s head with her free hand while yanking my head back so that I was bent at a painful angle and staring up at her.
She frowned down at me.
“You would have done it too,” Daisy murmured. “Why?”
“It’s what begging means,” I responded.
Daisy looked insulted, even disgusted. She released my hair and shoved me away from her. I toppled forward, not in control of my own body. Hitting the floor painfully, I stayed there for a moment, then raised myself up on all fours.
I didn’t have to pretend to be humiliated as Daisy marched past me.
“No one gets to use my Maker,” Helen snarled.
“How did you know?” Daisy asked. “About the one who begs, if you’re so human?”
“Mind reader, your pup likes to watch,” Helen snapped.
“Oh yes, that he does,” Daisy said, then turned to the bar and motioned to one of her boys. “Get Balor some bottles and blood. Find a body for Quin. No, make that two. No, four. One for each of the babies. I want to see them eat a human.
“And call the wolves. We’re going hunting.”
Portion of transcript removed.
Growing up, I recall seeing the notation multiple times: no animals were harmed during the fil
ming of this movie.
I always found that morbidly fascinating. Seeing and hearing that warning, I always felt the same way I did when my brothers came right out and said they hadn’t done that thing. The same way I felt hearing a politician saying that they hadn’t had sex with that woman slash man slash cucumber.
Those words made it seem like the filmmakers were trying to hide their sins, sweeping it under the rug.
Dear reader, tonight I ate someone.
And I enjoyed it.
Quin strongly advised me to simply say that we met the requirements of the werewolves, but it doesn’t seem right. He’s the one who started with being blunt.
Troy and I both murdered mortals. They were not addicts. They were not criminals, in fact, they had been a couple from the street. Laughing and carefree one moment, out for a late night walk. Hand in hand, young and in love.
Their lives drained away in our hands, and they fought for survival but failed. We aren’t stronger than normal humans, but we were both on that edge of hunger. It was a hunger that the werewolves could sense, one that probably put them on edge as well.
Neither of us regretted it. It’s possible that regret will hit me later like a punch to the gut. I know it hit Troy, once he got that mouthful of Maker’s Blood to convert his dinner. One moment he had been fine, then the next he was keeling over, whining away.
I watched him in a distanced sort of way. I knew there was something wrong with that distance I felt, yet it was that fog of immortality that kept me from feeling. It wasn’t even pity that I felt for Troy, but disgust. I should have felt something else. I should have been more caring.
Part of the payment to the werewolves was the free use of Balor. Daisy had us in the same room but didn’t force us to watch. I did out of an odd fascination.
With Balor otherwise engaged, and Troy upset, I tried to take in all around me.
I removed the portion of the transcript involving all of that. Summing it up works just as well.
When all was said and done, I turned to Quin to ask him what that was called, what had just been done to Balor and found him with Troy in his lap. Arms wrapped around the young man, Quin held on tight as Troy’s face pressed into his neck. There were little shudders rolling through Troy, like he was crying or something.
Quin was murmuring something to Troy, rocking him gently as Troy continued to shudder and tremble. Seeing me look over, Quin seemed to tell me to turn away, so I did.
Balor sat beside me with a wince. I motioned numbly to Quin and he glanced over then made a little sound.
“It hits everyone differently,” Balor whispered. “Some go centuries before their first bout. Some are struck after their first kill. He’ll be all right.”
“Shouldn’t you be doing that?” I whispered back.
“Maybe, but you have to understand sweetheart. Quin has been there through most of Troy’s life. We all take a keen interest in one family each generation, keeps us grounded. Troy and his mother were Quin’s obsession. When Troy began to question his sexuality, it was Quin who he called. When he had a nightmare, he called Quin, rather than wake his parents.”
“So, I have to share my Maker,” I grumbled.
“My, he was right. You are adorable when you pout.”
I glared at Balor, who smiled back at me. The man gave a bit of a shrug and looked at the werewolves, who were curled together, petting one another.
“Over the next week or so, I’ll be here with the pack unless Daisy is kind enough to release me early. During that time, yes, you’ll need to share Quin. I doubt he’ll fulfil all the duties of a Maker, Quin doesn’t do that. But you may wake to Troy in your bed.”
“Like a frightened child,” I said. “How’s he going to eat?”
“That’s why they have the bottles there,” Balor said with a little head motion. “They’ll drain me tonight. Quin will take them with him. It’s possible he’ll starve you both while I’m busy, but there’ll be plenty for the time I’m gone.”
Daisy flopped down beside Balor, grinning at him. “My boys got a whiff of something. You and Quin should probably go out and see to it.”
She said it in a tone, though. Sort of how Quin had said spoken that first night when my blood had been on his finger.
I didn’t know what she might have meant, and I wasn’t about to ask.
Though, it may have been the like six orgasms she had muddling her mind and making her sleepy. Daisy was not loud, per say. She enjoyed herself and it was clear when she was hitting that crest, but she was also experienced enough to cause it to happen again and again.
And apparently she thought watching a man be ridden was foreplay.
I’m not entirely certain I disagreed with her on that point. It was just weird to watch her watch Balor be had so often, then to make Balor please her.
Oh, and he was eager to do so. I’m guessing it wasn’t Balor’s first orgy… though, given his age that should have been obvious.
“Daisy,” Balor said.
He seemed to be trying to communicate something with his bland voice and look alone. Yet Daisy just blinked back at him slowly, the smile permanently adhered to her lips.
“I see it, like a baby, let them cry it out,” Daisy said. “It’s never been shown, that kind of a relationship before and after. I’m not certain it’d be healthy.”
“Did Rosalyn tell you something?” I asked.
“No, most vampires remain in a fog until the Oracle meets them one on one,” Daisy said.
Oracle is a witch.
I puzzled over that thought. Then it dawned on me why that was important.
“Balor shouldn’t go out,” I said, turning to them both. “The witches make vampires drink of their blood to visit the Oracle. He’s probably visited like all the rest.”
“I have,” Balor said with a frown. “Why’s that important?”
“Once you drink witch blood, you can’t use your powers on a witch.”
“And?” Balor asked.
“Bau is a witch, did you not pay attention to anything I told the Council last week?” I asked. “Vampire doesn’t negate a witch. In fact, I’ve heard the other races have a name for Quin’s vampire blood relations.”
“Witchblood,” Daisy whispered.
The two of them stared at me, then looked at one another. I saw that flash of panic before Balor composed himself and turned to me. He gave me a small nod.
“I’m still going, but I appreciate your concern.”
“Quin’s in the same boat, then,” Daisy said.
“No, because they knew,” I said.
“Knew what?” Balor asked.
“Knew it all,” I said. “They made a show of bleeding a maiden in front of him, but she was just a woman, not a witch. The tradition is meant to keep vampires from starting another war or at least winning one, but the Oracle saw a need to keep someone as a safeguard. Just in case.”
“You mean, just in case a witch was turned into a vampire and then went on a rampage?” Daisy asked. “She never mentioned that to me. Though, it does explain how Quin expects to get him and me through this night alive.”
“The Great Maker took the tool,” I said with a shake of my head. “And I’m betting she’s nowhere near here, considering our only contact with her isn’t answering her messages.”
“Probably means our visitor made a stop before coming here,” Daisy said. “Just had to have a weak spot for the woman. Stupid, stupid, Great Maker.”
“What’s that mean?” Balor asked.
“Really? I have to explain that to you?” Daisy asked. “The Great Maker spent thousands of years with her.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“The wolves know a great deal,” Daisy said. “And Rosalyn filled me in on some things because of the thing with the thing.”
“The thing with the—?” I gritted my teeth and rubbed at the spot between my eyebrows. “Could we please talk in full sentences?”
“That was a f
ull sentence,” they both said at the same time.
Which made me huff out a breath. There was some guy once who wrote a sentence that had the proper noun and verb structure but it made no damned sense because he did that. He was that kind of guy. Or he was a linguist of some sort. Except right then, I couldn’t remember his name or the sentence he had used.
What Balor and Daisy were doing reminded me of that.
“Then proper sentences. The thing with the thing is not a proper sentence.”
“Anyhow,” Daisy said loudly as if to shut me up. “When a vampire says they spent centuries together, it’s code for they were humping like rabbits.”
“Lucrecia and Sasha spent centuries together,” I said, baffled by the information.
“She hasn’t seen them in the same room together,” Balor said to Daisy.
“Quin and Sasha,” I protested.
“The one exception to the rule,” Daisy said. “Besides, of course, Androgen. But an asexual is obviously an exception to the rule. Two lesbians, however, are not.”
Balor stiffened. He frowned at Daisy.
“Bau’s not gay,” I said. “She had a werewolf lover. The Bitches weren’t on the field until the second or third day. Her lover died the first.”
Oh, but wait.
I was no longer certain. After a moment of thought, I wondered if Sasha had said that the lover had died the second night. That was when the Bitches had taken to the field. Not just them, though, but they had led the fight.
Daisy’s eyebrows rose upward. “Honey, not every werewolf is male, and not every female werewolf is a Bitch.”
“But the way Sasha told it strongly implied that the werewolf was a man. It wasn’t allowed. Uh, died the first day.”
“Let me stop you there. Who told you that wolves and witches couldn't do the nasty?” Daisy asked.
“Isn’t crossbreeding a bad thing?” I asked.
“It’s frowned upon. Because sometimes a male can be born with magic. Ones like my pup are supposed to be smothered in the crib, but more and more, we’re finding them quite useful. So we channel their kind of magic into protecting our packs.”
“So,” I caught myself trying to say the name again, recalling that she would be able to find us if I did that. “The witch wasn’t kept from her lover because the lover was a werewolf.”
