by Alana Melos
“Jazzercise,” she said, her voice high and excited. “I want to keep in shape, and it’s like dancing!”
I didn’t even know what that word was, but something swum up from my consciousness in the shape of leg warmers and big hair. “Alright then,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “We’ll head there.”
Rebekah waved at me cheerily and when she closed the door, I heard music come from the apartment. Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but to smile. I’d thought she’d do some martial arts training to keep in shape, but I guessed I should have known better.
“What is this ‘jazzerrcise’?” Wolf asked as we stepped into the elevator.
“It’s a highly secret technique to keep a body toned,” I replied with sarcasm. “Very hush hush. Only the best secret agents in the world use it.”
“I see,” he said, the words softened as he thought about it. “It’s a technique forr fighting?”
“Sure,” I said as we zoomed down. “She keeps her body honed like a razor.”
“Perrhaps I should trry it,” he said, evidently oblivious to my sarcasm. I almost choked trying to keep the laugh in my throat from erupting. Just the thought of the big green fuzzy jazzercising was enough to keep me in a merry mood all the way to the site of Alistair’s destroyed brownstone.
We landed at the site of what had been a portal to someplace else no longer than a week ago. When we had been on the verge of losing a fight against Oberst Richter, Alistair had opened the portal to summon things which I had no name for. The Oberst had fled as Alistair succumbed to madness. I’d been able to talk him back from the brink… sort of. It hadn’t been so much ‘talking’ as it had been dominating the fuck out of him. He had a thing for women being in charge. As Wolf and I approached the construction crew, I pondered what that might mean for Rebekah and him. She didn’t seem the sort to be into whips and chains, nor was she a dominant type personality… but who was I to judge?
Alistair stood tall and dark, his long black coat whipping against his legs in the wind which had picked up over the last hour. He talked with someone bundled into a large winter coat, a bright yellow hard hat on his head. When we got closer, I heard some of the words brought to me by the wind. It wasn’t anything of consequence, but it was interesting that Alistair stayed on site to supervise. When I looked over at the workers, more than a few of them moved with speed or strength. This one carried a large hunk of stone by himself, while another hammered away with what could only be a variety of super speed. He stopped hammering and walked away at a normal pace to refresh his supply of nails, but when he bent back to his task, his hands blurred. The talk Septimus and I came to mind, and I wondered idly if any of these guys here ever tried their hand at being a hero or a villain. I didn’t think so. They looked too comfortable in their ordinary jobs.
The brownstone’s front had been decimated during the fight, but the back looked ok. Now where his entrance, parlor, dining room, and kitchen had been stood the outline of a house and foundation. The big guy who carried the stone set it into place carefully, guided by another worker. They were fixing the foundation, which must have been damaged pretty severely in the blast. That kind of stone work wasn’t cheap, and I bet Alistair was glad he didn’t have a basement. That would have been a nightmare to rebuild. From the framework growing slowly over the foundation spreading out from the back half of the house, it looked as though that was one of the last stones to be set into place. Usually it was a big slab of concrete, but this brownstone had been standing since way before I had been born… before my parents had been born. I think it dated back to the early nineteen hundreds. That’s all I was able to glean from my scant knowledge of architectural history. It was a damn shame the brownstone had been damaged so severely. There just wasn’t that much old stuff like that around anymore. More than likely, that was why Alistair was rebuilding the house and restoring it rather than bulldozing what was left and starting anew. I respected him for that.
Turning my attention to the mage, I waited for him to be done, shivering in the breeze. He saw me, and nodded, indicating for me to wait. Wolf stood beside me, exactly as he’d done before, waiting with his arms crossed looking like mean muscle for hire.
Absolutely no vegetation could be seen in the area of the scorched earth or Alistair’s house, though this was well within the circle of the mutant plant’s growth. When the snow blew into the scorched circle, it melted even if it didn’t touch the ground. The pavement looked blackened, burned by the force of whatever magic he’d used. The plants grew in a wide arc around this area in the rest of the neighborhood, but kept a wide berth from this spot.
“This place is unnaturral,” Wolf growled, leaning down to speak quietly to me. “It is corrrupted.”
“Corrupted by what?” I asked, though I knew the answer already. I wanted to see what he’d say.
“Death,” he replied. “By the death of life.”
“Death is the death of life already,” I said. “It’s what the word means, Wolf.”
He shook his head and huffed. At that point, Alistair finished up with the foreman and walked over to us. Today he wore a dark green shirt which almost matched the color of Wolf’s fur, a black tie, and a black vest underneath his long coat. He smiled tightly when he approached, his eyes looking dark and wary. It wasn’t just his eyes; in his dark hair I saw grey where there hadn’t been before and he looked older, more worn out. He’d aged, whether physically or mentally, and he looked it.
“Caprice,” he said, his eyes suspicious but his voice jovial. “What brings you by?” His gaze slid over the plant-werewolf, taking in every detail. “And who’s your friend?”
“It’s Rory,” I said. “We rescued him. That’s one thing I want to talk to you about.”
The mage held his hand out to the werewolf. Wolf sniffed at him, then growled low in his throat. “You smell like the death of everrything,” he snarled.
Alistair closed his hand, his fingers curling into his gloved palm. “Right,” he said, his voice dry and hard. “Good to meet you.”
“He’s not… quite Rory,” I said. “Can we go somewhere private and talk? I’ve had enough of talking outside. It’s too cold for that shit.”
“Right this way,” he said, gesturing to a nearby trailer which had been parked on the street. “I’m sure the foreman won’t mind us using their temporary office.”
It took only a minute to harry the workers out, grumbling under their breath as they plunged into the cold on their break. It was small and cramped, but we managed to fit more or less comfortably with Wolf taking up half of the space. He growled any time Alistair even twitched his direction. The mage ignored it.
“This is your friend whom you tried to rescue,” he said. “You should tell me the story.”
“I’ll try to make it short,” I said, and thought it over. “After we found him in the ruins and cut and run, he followed us out. I captured him and Ger and I went into his head to bring Rory back in charge.”
“Back in charge?” he asked, looking for clarification.
“Well, that’s the long part of the story….” From there, I launched into a more detailed explanation of how the forest had fused with the werewolf and the resultant mix, both in body and mind. As I spoke, Alistair kept glancing to Wolf, eyeing him. He was probably reading his aura. When I finished, he nodded.
“That’s certainly unique,” he observed. “What do you want from me, exactly?”
“I want you to see if you can heal my ‘pathy,” I replied. “And I want to see if you can get the plant out of the wolf.”
“The wolf can speak forr himself,” Wolf said, huffing. “And I do not want to be changed.”
“This isn’t how you’re supposed to be,” I said, turning to look at him.
“It’s how I am now, and I do not want you to make it worrse,” he replied. “The simian and I have come to an underrstanding.”
“‘The simian’?” I asked, blinking.
“The one you ca
ll Rrorry,” he replied.
“But you’re the same person,” I said. “You’re just in wolf form, that’s all.”
Much to my surprise, both Wolf and Alistair shook their heads. “I don’t believe he is, no,” Alistair replied. “If you’ll humor me, could you change to your human form?”
Wolf bared his teeth and shook his head. I snapped my head up, and ordered, “Do what he asked you. Now.”
At that, he narrowed his eyes, but did as I commanded him. As the fur shrank into his body and his bones warped and changed, Alistair watched with intense fascination. I got the impression he was taking mental notes. He wrote a couple sigils in the air with a gloved finger, leaving a trail of that ghostly green energy he used behind.
“Ah… it’ll be good to stretch,” Rory said, his accent back. He sat down naked on one of the chairs and stretched his legs out.
“That’s intriguing,” Alistair said, leaning back in his chair.
“What? What is it?” I asked, annoyed at the both of them.
“The pattern of his aura is completely different,” he replied. “I believe when Rory was wakened at first, he was unable to change into his human form, correct?”
Rory’s face darkened as Alistair mentioned the capture. He shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t try to change,” Rory said, his voice shivering. “The wolf was keen on following Caprice. It wasn’t until her mental, erm, urging that we changed.”
“Interesting. You can feel the other presence in your mind?” Alistair asked.
The naked green man nodded. “Yes and no,” he said. “He’s a part of me, but he’s not me.” He shook his head, his wild and unkempt dark green hair bobbing as he did. “I don’t know how to explain it, not really.” He scratched his balls and yawned, “Man, I need a beer. Or a smoke. That would be better.”
I rolled my eyes at the display which Alistair ignored with snobby tact only a gentleman could really manage. He turned to me instead, “When the forest tried to mix their bodies, it mixed their auras. It took him over, like… a fungus, which can eventually kill a tree. Or a parasite can kill its host. But when he pulled himself free from the tree, he severed the connection before it could overwrite his soul or mind completely. Yet some of the forest is still in him, and since you said it had a consciousness… some of that consciousness became part of him as well.”
“Told you,” Rory mumbled as he got up and began rifling through the desk drawers and jackets hanging up, looking for the elusive nicotine he craved.
“But I set his head to rights,” I replied. “I went in and put him in control.”
“Yes and no,” he said. “The infection is so entrenched in the wolf half, it maintains its power there, but corrupted by your Rory’s instincts.” Alistair paused, giving a small amused smile, “It, well, believes it’s a wolf.”
I snorted, but Rory laughed, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds right.”
“So, when he’s not in his werewolf form, Rory’s consciousness is dominant. When he is shifted, the infection is dominant,” Alistair finished. “Their auras are two different things, and it’s not because of the mystical nature of the therianthrope. The aura colors, the emotions, would be brighter, more intense, but still be Rory. When they switch, it’s changed utterly. It’s like he’s being possessed. I’m afraid his body has changed enough that if I try to pull the foreign material out of him, he’ll die.”
Rory sat back down hard, his naked ass slapping the plastic covering of the chair. “Wait,” he said, his brows coming down as he frowned. “You mean you can’t get rid of it? I thought I’d be able to go to some scientist or…” He paused, the lines in his face becoming more pronounced as his frown deepened. “I thought this was just temporary.”
Alistair shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “Or, at least it’s beyond my power. Perhaps a coven.” His face twisted bitterly with his next words, “Or maybe the genetic sciences.”
I sat back and chewed this over. “You could just not change,” I said softly. “Stay a man.”
At that, Rory shook his head vehemently. “And not be a wolf? Never,” he replied, his voice harsh. “I’d give up everything that I am. I’m not doing that.”
“It’d only be until we figured something out,” I said, pointing it out reasonably.
He raked a hand through his forest green hair. “You know I’m going to have to switch back here, when we get ready to leave? It’s too cold out to let the boys hang free.”
“Ah, that I can solve,” Alistair said. “No charge even, but the clothes may not be to your taste.”
Rory narrowed his eyes, but Alistair was already chanting softly. A bundle of material appeared in his outstretched hands, with sharp looking shoes popping in on top. This he handed to Rory. “Thanks,” the werewolf said, grudgingly. He stood up and began to dress himself, grumbling at the fact Alistair had magicked him slacks instead of jeans.
“The other thing,” I said, lowering my voice. “About my mind.”
“Do I have permission to have a look?” Alistair asked. “Usually I try to ignore what I glean from people on the lines, but I will need your permission to look deeper, to see the source of the problem.”
“Sure,” I said, sounding a lot more flippant than I felt. I didn’t know if I had any defenses left anyway, other than my willpower which even the most psi-null people had. It was easier to pretend I was letting him in rather than acknowledging the fact he had the ability to rip into my mind any time he wished.
“Then hold still,” he said softly. He took off his gloves. I didn’t see the scars I knew were there, nor did I feel them when he touched my temples with his forefingers on either side of my head. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
“Famous last words,” I muttered in reply.
I sat there, searching for any presence of Alistair in my mind. I think I sensed him, but it was faint and I wasn’t sure. After a minute passed and Rory sat down again, now dressed up so he looked like Alistair’s younger green rakish brother sans tie, Alistair took his hands away from my head and frowned deeply at me.
“I sense no damage to your mind, Caprice,” he said. “Something else is preventing you from using your telepathy.”
I blinked, stunned at the news. “No, I can’t,” I insisted. “There’s got to be something wrong. Gerard said--”
“‘Gerard said’,” Alistair spat, taking his turn to roll his eyes. “He lies. Don’t you know that by now?”
“He doesn’t lie to me,” I said, only to be rewarded with loud scoffs from both men. I swept them both with an angry gaze. Rory ducked his head with a half a grin, but Alistair looked at me full on in a challenging way. “What? He doesn’t. He’s my bitch, not the other way around. And he’s a telepath, so he knows stuff you don’t, Alistair.”
“That is probably true,” the mage conceded, “as the magic of the mind is not my specialty. But I know enough to sense damage. There’s trauma there, yes, and your energies are still off-balance--more so now--but there is nothing preventing you from using your telepathy except you.”
“Bullshit,” I scoffed.
“So we came all this way just to be told there’s nothing that can be done?” Rory asked with a loud huff, sounding so much like his wolfen self. “Not even a drink.”
I cut him a sharp glance and he shrugged at me, smiling his crooked smile. When I looked back to Alistair, he had begun to rise. “You sit your ass back down in that chair,” I ordered, my voice turning cold. The mage hesitated, then sat down, his lip curling in a touch as he bit it. I told you he had a thing for strong women. Dominant women. “We’re not done yet.”
“There’s nothing I can do to help either of you,” he said, his voice soft. He folded his hands in front of them to calm their trembling.
“There’s something else,” I said, letting my voice go back to normal. “I know you’ve seen the plants all over… and you know where they’re from now.” I waited for his nod before continuing. “We need to get rid of it.�
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“That I really can’t help you with,” he said, keeping his hands folded together in front of him. “I’ve done my part to clear this area, but that’s all.”
“You have a lot of power, Alistair,” I said. “We can do this fast and easy.”
Before I’d gotten my last words out, he was already shaking his head. “We had this talk before, Caprice,” he said.
“Barely,” I remarked. “I know you’re scared, but that was a combat situation. This wouldn’t be. You could take your time.” Well, he could take some time, at least. “Do things slowly and carefully.”
Alistair kept shaking his head and he unfolded his hands. One went to the desk he sat next to, drumming his fingers on top of it. “I can’t,” he said. “What’s more is that I won’t.”
“You will if I tell you to,” I snarled, and turned sharply as Rory put a hand on my arm.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and a bit reproaching. “He said he wouldn’t. Besides, if he is what he smells like… I don’t think you want him to.”
I bared my teeth at Rory and yanked my arm away before turning back to Alistair. “I know you can do it,” I insisted. “Something bad is going to come from this plant, trust me on that.” Rory made a noise behind me. Looking over my shoulder at him, he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “What,” I said flatly.
“I’m not sure stopping it is such a good thing,” he said, the words coming out of him like reluctantly yanked teeth. “It’ll give the city a chance to start over. People have pretty much fucked it up here.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. If it was a distractionary tactic to get me off of Alistair, it worked brilliantly. Turning in my seat, I ignored the mage for the moment whose sigh of relief I didn’t miss. “What is it going to do, Rory?” I just knew it was up to something.
“It’s not really my place to tell,” he started. “But she’s waking up.”
I reached for my blade, but before I drew it from the sheath, shouts erupted from outside. In the first few seconds, I ignored them. However, when they grew in intensity around us, I growled and looked out the window. Rory and Alistair already were looking at what was going on around us. Alistair’s pale face turned even paler. Rory’s expression I couldn’t read, but it seemed to carry resignation with it.
