WIP day 2

[tygati]

Because I'm being too lazy to go hunt up the links for these from whenever I last posted them... (Elves & Motorcycles I think was posted last January x.x) I'll repost them here.

Elves & Motorcycles for Ki-chan

"Sanders!"

Several heads came up, swiveling to fix unerringly on the auburn head sitting calmly at his desk and studiously ignoring the captain's summons. Captain Ellington tried several more times, then just gave up and stomped through the department and loomed menacingly over the individual whose attention he'd been trying to get for five minutes.

"Sanders."

Finishing a line on the paperwork he was filling out, Liam Sanders slowly raised his head to look up (and up) at his boss, Captain Marc Ellington. Ellington was the biggest, strongest, most obnoxious black man Liam had ever known. Mainly because Ellington seemed to have made it his sworn duty to force Liam to be more social.

"Ellington."

Captain Ellington's normally jovial features screwed themselves into a mild frown. "Sanders. My office. Five minutes ago."

Biting back the urge to ask what had happened in Ellington's office five minutes ago, Liam slowly straightened his paperwork and rose to his feet. Ellington waited not so patiently and followed him closely all the way back across the department to where police captain Marc Ellington's office lay. Once inside, Ellington closed the door and took his seat behind his desk. Liam opted to remain standing.

"Sanders, you're a pain in the ass," Ellington grumbled.

"Thank you, sir."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Liam said nothing. Ellington would get to the point eventually, after ranting about his attitude and personality (or lack thereof) for a while. Sure enough, three minutes and eleven seconds later Ellington ceased his tirade and looked directly at Liam, dark eyes gleaming in a most unsettling manner.

"Sanders, I have a task for you, and before you ask, no, you're not allowed to refuse." Ellington looked at him pointedly, whereupon Liam calmly folded his hands behind his back and waited. Ellington sighed quietly. "You're a damned good cop and a better detective, but you're also a righteous ass. Oddly enough, I think it's the latter quality that's going to let you survive this one."

Liam silently arched a brow. This wasn't exactly going in a reassuring manner.

"We've got a witness that needs protection. So far, we haven't done a very good job of it. The only reason he's still alive is pure dumb luck. The two of you have something in common, so I'm handing him over to you. Don't screw this up, Sanders."

Now Liam did speak, frowning. "Witness protection? Not exactly my field, Ellington. Who's after him?"

Ellington's lips quirked. "Practically everyone. The guy's got dirt on the city mob boss and half of his associates, and managed to weasel his way into the Skullriders to pick up some interesting stuff there as well. Guy's got enough evidence to put a lot of people behind bars for the rest of their lives."

"Provided he makes it to trial."

"Exactly." Ellington snorted. "Homicide's been looking after him, but as I understand it he isn't the easiest guy to get along with and things are getting strained. You don't have an assignment right now and you're both nuts about motorcycles, so he's yours until I say otherwise."

Liam blinked. "You're sending him with me because we share the same hobby?" he asked in disbelief.

Ellington rolled his eyes. "Those things haven't been just a hobby for you in years. They're an obsession. One that our ex-Skullrider shares. And I'm sending him with you because you're about the only man on the force that's obnoxiously stubborn enough to deal with him without shooting him." He grimaced at Liam's expression. "Not a word, Sanders. Just get your ass down to Homicide and then figure out how you're going to keep Rowen from becoming a smear on the asphalt."

"There is such a thing as a witness protection program, you know," Liam felt obliged to point out.

His boss grimaced again. "Yeah, I know. He's already been through two safehouses and the suits have lost three of their men. They figure there's a leak someplace." He eyed Liam pointedly. "So stay on your toes."

Liam frowned. "If someone's buying off agents, you don't think there may be a risk within the department as well?" he asked.

Ellington shrugged. "Good possibility. Another reason why I'm giving this one to you. You're about the only guy in the department I can say without a shadow of a doubt doesn't and won't ever take bribes."

Liam winced. "I'm never living that incident with the Governor down, am I?"

"No. Now get the fuck out of my office and go pick up your man, then figure out where you're gonna lay low for a while." Ellington shook his head. "I know you've got a couple places that aren't in your file. Hopefully not too many people know about 'em."

"I'd like to know how you know about them," Liam grumbled as he headed for the door.

"I do my homework. Now go."

Grumbling half-heartedly beneath his breath, Liam made his way out of Captain Ellington's office and wove through the sea of desks to his own. There, he tidied everything up and locked away anything confidential before gathering up his personal things and heading for the elevator. Damn Ellington for making him play babysitter.

The ride down to the third floor was both far too long and not nearly long enough. He grabbed the first person he saw once he stepped out - a perky brunette named Sasha or Sarah or something - and explained in as polite of terms as he could manage what he was there for.

Her face promptly expressed abject relief. "Oh thank god," she breathed, then grabbed his arm and dragged him past yet another sea of desks to a green padded bench just to the left of the water cooler. Seated on it was a dark-haired young man who seemed to be just a year or two younger than Liam, dressed in black denim, steel chains, and a rather ratty leather jacket. He looked up at their approach, casting vivid blue eyes over the both of them. Liam fought a shudder.

Now he was really going to kill his boss. Ellington knew he was gay, though most of the rest of the force didn't. Ellington had the most sick and twisted sense of humor ever if he was handing over the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes ever into Liam's care. He wanted to cry. Or shoot himself.

"New babysitter?" the man drawled, smirking slightly as he looked Liam over carefully.

"Detective Sanders, this is Kal Rowen," the girl whose name Liam still hadn't gotten introduced. "He's all yours. I'll go get the paperwork finalized immediately."

She hurried off as Liam steeled himself to meet Kal Rowen's roaming gaze. Damn those eyes! If the man bothered to tidy his hair into something other than a rat's nest and wear something that didn't look like a thrift store bit bucket reject, he'd be fatal. As it was, the eyes alone were straining every ounce of self-preservation Liam possessed.

"Kal Rowen, hmm?" he managed, reasonably nonchallently.

"Detective." Rowen smirked.

"I'd like you to know that babysitting insolent snitches is not exactly what I would consider a productive use of my time," Liam stated calmly. "Given the reactions I've witnessed concerning you thus far, I'm going to guess that you're not exactly the most pleasant person to be around."

Rowen's bright blue eyes shimmered. "Something like that, yeah. You scared, Detective?"

Liam snapped a hand out and yanked Rowen up by his arm, bringing him far too close for comfort under normal circumstances but the cold anger managed to serve as a buffer. "No. I'm only going to warn you once, but don't fuck with me. I don't deal well with obnoxious bastards, and I'm certainly not putting up with any shit from you. Understand me?"

The man immediately opened his mouth to shoot off a retort, but something in Liam's expression seemed to give him pause. He closed his mouth, vivid eyes intently studying Liam's face for a moment, then he shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

Letting his breath out slowly, Liam turned and stalked off to see if he could hurry that paperwork along any while plotting his boss's imminent death. When he got close enough Sandy or Sammy or whatever her name was took one look at his expression and flinched. "You are still taking him, right?" she asked.

"Like I have a choice," Liam growled, crossing his arms and attempting to imitate his boss's favorite Pointed Glare. Lacking Ellington's football lineman height and mass, it wasn't quite as effective on him as it was on his captain. Still, Susan or Shelly or whatever redoubled her efforts.

Fifteen minutes later Kal Rowen was released to his grudging care and the two rode down to the parking garage. Liam unlocked his door and got in, reaching over to unlock the passenger side door and starting up the car before realizing that Kal wasn't moving. "Are you coming?" he snapped.

"You drive a 'Cuda." Rowen arched a brow.

"Yes, I do."

"What year?" Rowen asked.

"'70."

Rowen slowly walked around the car, fingers trailing lightly across the bright blue paint. "Hemi?"

Liam's lips quirked up into a vague impression of a smile. "Yes."

Rowen grinned. "Awesome." In a considerably better mood than he'd displayed before, the man slid into the vehicle. "So, where we going?"

"Hopefully somewhere no one will find us," Liam replied absently, backing out and maneuvering his way through the garage.

"Don't suppose we can stop somewhere for food first?" Rowen asked cheekily.

Liam shot him a look. "Your life is in danger from who knows how many angles and you're thinking about food."

Rowen shrugged. "I'm hungry, and that coffee and donuts crap just ain't gonna cut it, sorry."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Any preferences, your majesty?"

The gleam in Rowen's eyes as he strove to look innocent made Liam want to throttle him. "Hot Rod Cafe?"

"You have a death wish or something?" Liam shot him a look. "You've got the Skullriders after your ass and you want to go to a motorcycle bar."

"Not technically a motorcycle bar," Rowen pointed out, blue eyes gleaming. "Your 'Cuda would fit in better than any hog."

"My job is to keep you safe. Waltzing into a known hangout for the area bikers would kind of be counter productive."

"You could order take-out?"

"No drive-through window."

"Just run in and out?"

"And leave you unprotected and unmonitored in my car. I don't think so."

Rowen sat back with a huff and crossed his arms, scowling out the passenger side window at the passing buildings. Three minutes passed in silence, during which Liam rated the pros and cons of the very stupid decision he was about to make, then sighed quietly.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Huh?" Rowen sat up a little and frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Liam resisted the urge to grit his teeth. "I assume since you asked about take-out that you're familiar enough with the menu to order without being able to see it."

Rowen eyed him oddly, then shrugged. "Yeah. Malibu burger with fries and a large Cherry Coke."

Sighing quietly, Liam flipped open his phone and pressed two numbers. A moment later a cheerful voice picked up. "Yeah, Terry? It's Liam. Need a Malibu burger, fries, large cherry coke, and my usual. To go. ETA ten minutes." He ignored the look Rowen was giving him. "Try to behave yourself when adding your tip this time, thank you. Yeah, I know. No, the Cuda today. Thanks Terry. Bye."

He hung up and stared straight ahead to avoid meeting that intent blue gaze. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about his hearing.

"Pretty sure the only Terry there is the Manager," Rowen observed dryly. "You order take-out a lot?"

Liam scowled. "I'm a cop and a detective. We practically live on take-out."

Rowen looked him over again, slowly. "Well, you don't look like you live on take-out... if anything, I'd put you on the slightly skinny side."

"Take-out doesn't have to be bad for you." Liam snorted. "And I'm not skinny. My body mass index is perfectly in line with where it should be."

"Your body mass index?" Rowen eyed him oddly and Liam winced.

"It's... Never mind."

Rowen hmmed quietly but said nothing more, leaving the rest of the drive blessedly silent. When they pulled up in front of the Hot Rod Cafe he glanced over at Liam in mild puzzlement, then blinked when the ever-curvaceous Terry came bouncing out the front doors with a large white paper bag in hand. She came around to the driver side window and leaned down, prominently displaying her more than ample cleavage.

"Here ya go, Liam honey." Terry passed over the bag with a smile, her eyes flicking curiously to Rowen. "Who's your friend?"

Liam grimaced. "Visitor from another precinct. Spare me from turf wars and the idiots who encourage them."

Terry flashed a bright smile. "He's cute, Liam." She blew Rowen a kiss. "Hey honey, don't let ol' grouchy here scare ya off. He's not nearly as mean as he pretends to be."

Rowen laughed. Liam scowled. "Terry, you're not helping. Don't you have a cafe to run?"

"Right, right, going." She leaned in the window to kiss Liam's cheek. "Take care of yourself, hon." The ample breasts retreated back inside and Liam pulled away after shoving the white paper bag at Rowen.

"There. Food. Happy now?"

The cheeky grin flashed his way answered that question, then Rowen was digging through the bag for his food. "Must be nice being so tight with the management that they bring your food right to the car."

Liam snorted and rolled his eyes as he rejoined traffic. "Terry just understands cop schedules, that's all. And I did her a favor a couple times."

"Favor?" Rowen looked up from where he'd been carefully disassembling the contents of the bag. "What kind of favor?"

"I fixed something."

Rowen snorted. "Like?"

"None of your business," Liam snapped, maneuvering his way through the heavy traffic with an ease that only came with practice.

"Jeeze, touchy." Rowen leaned back and munched idly on his burger, washing it down with soda and eyeing the white-paper-wrapped bundles still in the bag. "So, what'd you order?"

"Sandwich."

"Oh, that's real eloquent. What's the other one?" Rowen prodded the smaller bundle.

Liam shrugged. "Who knows. Terry's forever trying to make me eat more."

"Huh..." Rowen unwrapped part of the bundle, then whistled. "Niiice. Strawberry cheesecake. If you didn't order it, can I have it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I like cheesecake."

"But you just said-"

"Just because she's got an obsession with feeding me doesn't mean I don't occasionally appreciate it," Liam snapped.

Rowen sat back in his seat and sullenly took a bite out his burger. "Geeze, testy," he muttered around his mouthful.

Liam ignored him. He had the feeling it was something he was going to have to get very good at if he wanted to make it to the trial with his sanity intact. Though every time those blue eyes chanced his way he felt more and more of that slipping away from him. Damn Ellington to hell for this.

The silence lasted ten whole blessed minutes more before Rowen piped up again, inquiring casually, "So, where we goin'?"



Darkness Sidestory: Gwyn/Carys for Skylark

The night was cool and damp from the rain that had fallen scant hours before, a gentle spring breeze stirring the trees and carrying with it the promise of more rain in the hours yet to come. Crickets sang their evening song at a distance, stilling as he neared them, then resuming once he was past. Overhead the faintest sliver of a crescent moon hung in the sky, only barely visible through the thin clouds above. A pleasant enough night, by his standards.

He'd been traveling since he'd awoken, pausing briefly to catch his breakfast, and still he was no closer to his goal. If it even existed. There were some days that he couldn't quite bring himself to believe in such a hopeless dream, and others in which that same dream was all he had left to cling to. An impossible dream, for sure, but oh, if it was real...

Gwyn shook his head, snorting softly at himself and pushing harder, covering more ground. A thousand times he'd called himself a fool for believing in whispered rumors, and would do so a thousand times more. Until either he found it, or they finally killed him.

Whichever came first.

Soft loam passed beneath his paws, littered here and there with brittle twigs that he effortlessly avoided. He would not be caught making some foolish pup's mistake; life had taught him its lessons well. Only once had he slipped up, but that once was enough to ensure it never happened again. The scars he bore from that encounter he would bear to his death.

Something in the air caught his attention and he stilled, legs quivering, nose up as he scented the breeze. He fought a growl as he identified the smell. Smoke. Hearth smoke. There was a village nearby. He would have to progress more cautiously.

Slinking along on silent paws, Gwyn moved carefully through the underbrush and around trees until his sharp eyes picked up the faint lanterns dotting the tiny village. There couldn't have been more than a hundred people in all the town, though still he maintained his guard. A pack of angry humans could do much damage, and there was always the chance that even a village as small as this could be home to a Hunter.

Never again, he'd sworn, would he fall prey to a hated Hunter.

Though the hour was late, Gwyn could see shadows moving about in several dwellings as the villagers went about late-night tasks. He was fairly certain the brush concealed him from casual eyes, but he backed cautiously away just to make certain. In the darkness, something of his size and color tended to stand out, especially if the moon came out from behind those clouds.

He'd almost made it far enough away that he felt secure in turning and taking his eyes off the habitation when there came a muffled noise as though something heavy had been thrown open, a door perhaps, and then his ears pricked up as they caught the faintest fall of footsteps beating irregularly against the earth.

Gwyn froze, willing that no movement would betray him as those unsteady footsteps raced closer. Closer. Then the fleeing figure was past him, running into the darkness of the forest and away from the lights of the village. His nose wrinkled as he caught the scent of the running person, male, he was fairly certain, and thick with the musk of recent sex, but there was something else as well. Something he'd never smelled before.

Puzzled, he watched until the man was out of sight past the trees, then swung his head around to stare back the way he'd come. It wasn't a bad smell, just strange. A pleasant strange, really. Tingly. It made him want to frisk about, despite the danger still posed by the proximity of the human village.

A shout rang out in the night, startling him out of his contemplation of the strange smell and jerking his attention back to the cluster of houses. There were people spilling out of the buildings now, their voices a low murmur that quickly rose in volume, the anger in that rumbling sound unmistakable. He stifled a growl as he caught glimpses of light glinting off weaponry. It was time to go.

He rose from his crouch, checking once more to see that the pack of humans had begun to advance toward the forest before turning and setting off at a rapid lope. None of them had horses, and thus not a one of them would be able to catch up with him even if they knew he was there. Still, he'd feel much better with considerable distance between himself and the angry men.

Barely had he made it more than a handful of strides before he caught a whiff of that unmistakable scent from before and drew up short.

The man from before. He'd been running away from the village. Only minutes before the village had become angry. There could be no mistaking the fact that it was him they were after.

This time Gwyn did growl, low in his throat, as he considered. The wolf in him urged him to flee, put as much distance between himself and those that could hurt him as possible. But the man in him urged a different path. The one who had fled had not moved like one who knew the ways of the wild. He would not be able to disappear into the wilderness. If they caught him, what would they do to him?

The long scar that ran down his body ached in memory. Gwyn was moving before he really realized that he'd done so, following the scent that drew him, winding around trees and bushes, deeper and deeper into the forest. Far behind him he could still hear the murmur of the human pack, though growing fainter as he put distance between them. Hopefully it would be enough distance to warn the strange smelling man and allow them both to seek safety.

His ears pricked forward as he heard the trickle of running water. Hopefully the fleeing human hadn't crossed the water, or worse, gone upstream. It would take him ages to find the scent again if that was the case.

But luck was with him, or perhaps with the stranger, as Gwyn emerged from the concealing cover over the riverbank and spied a lithe figure standing not quite waist deep in the swirling water. He was scrubbing furiously at himself with both water and what appeared to be handfuls of river sand, occasionally ducking down into the water to rinse it all off before starting over again. He was facing mostly away from Gwyn, only the occasional motion revealing much more of his head than the fall of sleek dark hair, but what glimpses Gwyn did get entranced him.

Beautiful, sleek and graceful, that was the nude form that washed itself over and over in the cold waters of the stream. Gwyn found himself staring, caught by the exceptional beauty of what he saw, forgetting entirely that which had spurred him here to seek out this entrancing man until his sharp hearing caught the growing sounds of pursuit.

Shaking off whatever daze he'd been in, Gwyn shifted out of his wolf form and slid down the bank, landing silently enough that the bathing man did not notice him until he spoke.

"You are in danger."

The man yelped and spun around, water splashing about in his panic, eyes locking briefly to Gwyn's before widening as he unbalanced and fell. There was a dull thud as his head connected with one of the many large stones jutting up from the riverbed, then only the faintest of splashes as he went under.

Gwyn stared in surprise for an agonizingly long moment before bolting forward, questing hands finding smooth skin beneath the water's surface after only the briefest of searches. A sharp yank hauled the limp form into the air to be carefully cradled in Gwyn's arms before he moved them both to the riverbank. Fortunately the unexpected dip had been brief enough that the man was breathing, albeit shallowly, and he didn't look too worse for wear. Just unconscious.

Unconscious, while his pursuers were coming ever closer.

Growling low in his throat, irritated when it didn't sound right coming out of a human shape, Gwyn looked around until spotting the pretty man's discarded clothing. He scooped it up awkwardly, careful not to jostle his unconscious burden too much, then set out at an even pace up the riverbank, angling as much away from the sounds of pursuit as he could.

It was slow going, confined to a two-legged form and carrying something besides. They were gaining on him, he could hear, but his only other option was almost more dangerous than it was worth. Still, he could see no other choices. Not if he wanted to get the man in his arms to safety.

The Change rippled through him, bringing with it a surge of strength and power. Gwyn flexed experimentally, pleased to note how much lighter his precious burden seemed, how much further his strides took him as he shifted into an easy lope.

The danger in this form, his Were form, was in his tracks. No man nor wolf ever left tracks such as his, and even the most inexperienced tracker would know them for what they were. If the villagers realized and called in a Hunter...

Snarling, Gwyn clutched the unconscious man closer to him, gathering his muscles before springing, his leap taking him clear across the river. He landed on the rocky bank, barely pausing a moment before setting out away from the river and deeper into the forest. That trick wouldn't stall them for long if they knew what they were about, though if they realized it was a werewolf they were tracking they might back off until they had a Hunter with them.

Though that would be bad for Gwyn in the long run, for now it might work to his advantage.

Through the night he ran, and on into the morning, the soft hues of sunlight chasing away the shadows and leaving him feeling terribly exposed. Fortunately his journey had carried him into the foothills of the mountains in this area, and not too far up he could see a hollow that should serve well enough as protection from the rain he could smell gathering in the looming clouds.

Several careful leaps carried him up what would otherwise be an impenetrable rock face to a large indentation in the mountainside. Plenty big enough for himself and one other, even if Gwyn stayed in his Were form. Which he wouldn't, because it was nearly impossible to form human words in Were shape.

Carefully laying the unconscious man down on the floor, using the wad of discarded clothing to cradle his head with, Gwyn nodded briefly to himself and shifted back to man form, settling down on the ground and staring at the man he'd carried so far, feeling strange and no small bit bewildered.

What was he doing, risking his life for a man he'd never met? He knew better than to shift to Were form. A skilled Hunter could track a werewolf across several kingdoms if they knew one was in the area. That was why most werewolves avoided shifting to Were form whenever the moon didn't force the change. It was simply safer to stay in wolf or man form.

Yet here Gwyn was, having spent most of the night in his Were form, all for the sake of a pretty stranger. Very pretty stranger, he amended, looking over the nude, unconscious body lying before him. In twenty-something years of life (he'd lost count several summers ago) he'd met all manner of creature both human and not, and none of them had ever been this beautiful. The growing daylight made the elegant features seem even more ethereal, clearly defining high cheekbones set into a face that seemed made to be caressed. Every line of that slender body was perfectly shaped, lithe muscles stretched out beneath darkly tanned skin that seemed to be dusted with the faintest golden shimmer.

Gwyn wanted to touch, caress. He snarled at himself and sat on his hands to make them behave, though he couldn't force himself to look away. There was something strange going on, and he wasn't going to figure out what it was by running. He had to concentrate, no matter how hard it was to do so when every breath carried more of that heady scent he'd caught earlier, making him want to lick that fine skin to see if it tasted as good as it smelled.

He dragged his eyes up with effort, back to that enchanting face, frowning as that niggling sense of wrongness strengthened. Was it the hair? The sun-kissed gold seemed lighter than Gwyn remembered, but maybe that was an illusion cast by the growing daylight.

How odd, though, that the ends were all a rich red-auburn. That couldn't possibly be normal, and he didn't remember that from his contemplation earlier that night either. Puzzled, Gwyn reached out and ran the long strands through his fingers, marveling at the silken feel even as he tried to understand what he was seeing. He'd never seen a human with two-toned hair before...

Then he let it all fall away as he caught a glimpse of what had lain beneath. Ears, but not as he knew them. These came to a small, gentle point. Still beautiful - everything about him was beautiful - but not human.

That, then, would explain the angry mob.

Though not why the pretty man had been in the village in the first place. It was dangerous for non-humans to go where humans lived. But then again Gwyn could have sworn he looked different when he'd first seen the man, so perhaps he could shape-change as well?

If that was the case, however, then how had he gotten caught?

Gwyn growled beneath his breath, wishing he knew what was going on with the non-human that could change his appearance and smelled odd and made Gwyn do strange things. If not for the fact that he'd hurt himself and had spent the last several hours unconscious, Gwyn would think the man was doing it on purpose. Certainly nothing else he'd ever encountered had affected him thus.

A soft sound and movement beneath his fingers drew his attention, and Gwyn snatched his hand away from where it had been lightly caressing the man's face. He snarled at himself, wondering again what was wrong with him, then all his thoughts scattered as the man slowly opened his eyes.

Turquoise. Like the stone itself, bright and vivid and as beautiful as everything else about him had been. Those enchanting eyes blinked slowly, appearing faintly disoriented, and Gwyn had just enough time to note that the pupils were slitted (like a cat's, but not) before slender arms wrapped around his neck and lips pressed against his insistently. Gwyn parted his lips in surprise, and the strange man immediately took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Kissing was not something Gwyn had much experience with at all, having lived most of his adult life alone, but none of his few experiments had kissed anything like this. This was hot and hard and demanding, teeth and tongue and a lithe body pressed against his in a way that made him want to kiss and touch and claim the beautiful man whose body pressed so intimately against his own.

There were hands sliding down his back, leaving his skin tingling in the wake of their passage. His entire body felt like it was on fire, though not in a painful way. Quite the opposite. It made him want and need in ways he'd never known before, and he growled low in pleasure.

That lone sound broke something, for the pretty man started, jerking back away from Gwyn and smacking his head on the floor that hadn't been all that far away in the first place. Tears of pain sprang up as he shut his eyes tight, hands reaching up to cradle his head where he'd hit it. Again.

Gwyn sat back and considered the confusing man before him even as he shifted to try to sit a little more comfortably. That kiss had made certain parts of him sit up and take serious interest, though he wasn't quite sure what to do now. The strange man had kissed him, but now apparently had changed his mind, and it was things like this that made most of his kind prefer to live with the wolves rather than attempt to blend in with humans. Wolves were far less confusing.

"I'm sorry..."

The voice was as beautiful as all the rest of him, gentle and sultry and carrying in it the vaguest hint of promises that Gwyn couldn't quite identify. The miserable expression, however, didn't suit him in the slightest, and Gwyn frowned as he replied.

"Do you always kiss people you don't know?" he asked.

The miserable expression deepened; the man's cheeks flushed a faint pink as he looked down and away from Gwyn's gaze. Of course, that put his own gaze on his lap, and the blush deepened as he yanked some of his rumpled clothing into his lap to hide it from view before sighing softly and shaking his head.

"No. I... didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

There was something in that voice that Gwyn was certain he should be paying attention to, but it was so hard to concentrate. He wanted to pull the pretty man into his lap and practice kissing again and it was taking all of his willpower to resist. With a low growl, he sat on his hands again.

The pretty man looked up at the movement, blinking at the sight. He looked confused, turquoise eyes lifting up to meet Gwyn's for only a brief moment before skittering away again in... shame? It was hard to tell. Hard to think. But he had to think, because something wasn't right and it had to do with the beautiful man that wasn't quite looking at him.

The silken fall of red-touched gold drew his attention and he found himself trying to reach out for it, stopped only by the fact that he'd pinned his hands beneath his ass to prevent just such a thing. Looking was bad enough. Touching would be far, far worse, even if he did want to run his fingers through that strangely-divided hair, feel its softness, caress the gently pointed ears beneath...

Oh. The ears. That reminded him.

"What are you?" Gwyn asked, hearing his own frustration in his voice. The pretty man started, eyes going wide, then his lips moved rapidly in a low murmur that Gwyn could only barely make out. The words sounded like nonsense, gibberish. Gwyn frowned, then blinked as before his eyes the man seemed to... dull, somehow. His hair faded to a medium-dark brown, losing all hints of red as well as the dual colors, his skin lost the golden sheen, and the unearthly color of his eyes muted until it was a perfectly normal bluish-green.

Perfectly human, though still more beautiful than anything Gwyn had ever seen before. And, he realized after a moment's study of all the changed features, the desire to pounce him and kiss him senseless had faded enough that he could actually think again.

This man, then, had been responsible for... for what? For making Gwyn want him? But if he'd stopped whatever he was doing, why did Gwyn still want him? Better still, why had it begun while the man was unconscious?

"What... did you just do?" Gwyn asked, frowning. "What are you?"

"I'm..." the man licked his lips slowly, biting down lightly on the bottom one as he took his time in choosing his words. "Complicated," he finally settled on, grimacing.

Gwyn snorted, deeming it safe enough to stop sitting on his hands and crossing his arms over his chest instead. "I noticed. Do you have a name, pretty, complicated, not-human?"

The pretty man stiffened, his eyes flashing as he glared at Gwyn. "Carys," he snapped. "And unless humans have suddenly started coming in white-haired varieties, I'm willing to bet you're also 'not-human'."

"It wasn't an insult," Gwyn replied mildly. "Those who walk in darkness usually find it helpful to know who is human and who is not. You are not, though you pretend to be. I am not human either, as you observed, though I do not even try to pretend otherwise. Because of the influence of the moon upon us, it is harder for werewolves to masquerade as human than it is for other children of darkness."

Carys started. "Werewolf? I hadn't heard of any werewolves in the area..."

Gwyn snorted again. "Of course not. If we draw attention to ourselves, we risk a Hunter being set upon us. Better to remain unseen. Safe."

"But the full moon..." Carys said slowly, frowning.

"Yes, we cannot control the change for the three days of the full moon," Gwyn admitted with a shrug. "That does not make us mindless animals. I normally choose to locate myself as far from human habitation as possible during the nights of the full moon."

Carys's frown didn't alter. "But then what of the stories? If werewolves seek isolation, why are they so feared that there is an entire class of Hunter dedicated to them?"

"I said I seek isolation, not that all werewolves do." Gwyn grimaced. "Those who have had the change forced upon them by a bite are more volatile than those born to this life. Then there are individual personalities. Many of my kind deliberately seek confrontation with humans." He shrugged. "There are good reasons humans fear my kind. That still does not mean I wish to have a Hunter set upon me."

"I see..." Carys said softly. "Yet you were quite close to the village..."

Gywn shrugged. "The moon is but a waxing crescent. Safe enough. And I had not thought to find a village so deep in the forest." He frowned. "Obviously if the humans feel secure enough to build their homes here, then I must look elsewhere for what I seek."

Carys shot him a puzzled glance. "What are you looking for?"

Gwyn hesitated. He didn't know this man, or where his loyalties lay. He'd been living in a human village, but the humans had been pursuing him... Well, it wasn't like it could hurt anything.

"Sanctuary."

As he'd half expected, the look Carys gave him was highly confused. "Sanctuary? From what?"

"Life?" Gwyn shook his head. "Everything. It is only a rumor, but they say that those children of darkness who wish to escape from persecution and seek to do no harm unto others will find sanctuary in a castle hidden not only from the world, but time itself. I have been searching for it for several years now, and have not yet found it."

There was an odd silence, and Gwyn looked up to find an almost painful expression of yearning on Carys's face. The mysterious man shook his head slowly, tongue flicking out to lick his lips in a way that sent shivers down Gwyn's spine.

"Do you think..." Carys's voice caught and he swallowed once before trying again "Do you really think such a place exists?"

"I would not be still looking if I did not retain some hope that it does," Gwyn replied honestly.

Carys shook his head slowly. "If it is hidden from the world, how do you hope to find it? How could anyone hope to find it?"

"I..." Gwyn faltered. "The rumors I heard were unclear..."

Carys seemed to draw in upon himself, arms folding over his stomach. "Then you could be looking for a very long time," he said at last.

"Better to search forever in hope than live eternally in fear," Gwyn replied quietly.

Carys's head came up quickly, blue-green eyes widening briefly before a faint, sad smile touched his lips. He truly was beautiful. "Do you really think so?" he asked.

"I would not have spent these last several years looking if I didn't," Gwyn pointed out.

Carys was silent a long moment, biting at his lower lip and putting off enough uncertainty and fear that Gwyn could smell it even with his limited humanoid senses. "I... Would it hinder your search overmuch if you were to have a companion?"

What? Gwyn stared at him for a long moment, trying to ascertain that he'd actually heard what he thought he'd heard, or if wishful thinking was playing tricks on his ears. After a moment of studying Carys's pensive face, Gwyn finally had to ask. "Say that again?"

Grimacing, Carys turned away and stood, carefully holding his rumpled clothing to his groin to maintain whatever dignity he could. "Never mind."

Gwyn frowned, standing as well and reaching out to grab Carys's arm, forcing the smaller man to face him again. "That is not what you said. Why do you turn away?"



Darkness Finale

The night breeze stirred his feathers, rippling through them caressingly before moving on to draw his cloak away from his body. The moon was nearly full overhead, casting a pale silvery sheen across the earth. In the distance, he could hear the faint voices of the night's creatures as they called to one another in the darkness.

Any other night it would all be like a siren song, calling to him, whispering sweet entreaties in his ear until he could no longer resist the pull. But tonight his wings felt leaden, and the song of the darkness could not reach him. He felt truly alone, a feeling whose bitter taste he had almost forgotten.

Karai was not enjoying the reminder.

Turning away from the parapet, he stalked across the tower walkway and flung open the door leading back inside the castle, not bothering to close it again as he strode through. Either someone else would close it, or the castle itself would, eventually. He didn't really care.

How long had it been, now? Several months, he thought, but it had been so subtle, so gradual at first. Easily overlooked, even by a former god. And even when he'd finally begun to take notice, he hadn't wanted to. He still didn't. Noticing meant thinking, and thinking meant wondering, considering, speculating. He didn't want to face his own thoughts, or where they were leading.

So he looked again. From the highest turret to the lowest dungeon and back again, enlisting the aid of every winged resident of the castle and most of the ghosts. The result remained the same.

Oliae was nowhere to be found in the entire castle.

Karai knew that his vampire lover went out every so often to feed and gather information on the world beyond their walls, but that was sporadic at best and he'd never before left without Karai at least knowing that he'd gone. Through his winged spies, Karai knew nearly everything that went on in the public areas of the castle, and in much of the nearby world without.

The fact that Oliae had managed to slip away unnoticed, night after night, could only mean that he was doing it deliberately in such a way to avoid Karai's feathered friends.

It made him sick to think about what it could mean. Without Oliae he had no reason to continue on in this diminished existence. For so long he'd wandered blindly, adrift, until Oliae had forced him to face reality. To remember how to live. Without him...

Hands clenching, Karai forced the worries from his mind and changed direction so quickly that he startled an incubus and a werewolf. They both quickly got out of his way; no one in the castle would dare risk angering the fallen Raven God, with three sole exceptions. Master Ciaran, his lover, the former demon hunter Lucien Lacroix, and Karai's own lover. Oliae.

Enough games. Enough hiding. There was one person in the castle who would know where Oliae had gone no matter how secretive the vampire had been. His tricks might have been enough to fool even Karai's not-unimpressive skills, but it would never fool their master. So much time and power was invested in the walls that kept them safe, it sometimes seemed as though the castle was merely an extension of Ciaran rather than a simple structure of wood and stone.

The castle always knew where Ciaran was, though getting it to convey that information was usually more trouble than it was worth. Karai had discovered long before that it was usually faster to simply check the most likely places rather than attempt to coerce the location from a structure that was almost as stubborn as its Lord.

And indeed, this evening was no different. In the second garden he checked he found Ciaran, and Lucien as well, nestled in the embrace of an impossibly large canna leaf while they watched two goblins, a harpy, a troll, and an imp play some sort of game. Or at least Karai was fairly certain it was a game. Though the rules seemed to be prone to change at any given moment.

Making his way cautiously around the edge of the commotion, Karai stopped a few paces from Ciaran and gave a polite half bow. "Master."

Ciaran looked up and smiled, the expression so honest and open it always left him with a faint feeling of confusion. Dark Lords didn't smile. Smirk, grin, yes. But smile? Only Master Ciaran.

"Karai," Ciaran greeted. "What brings you down from the castle heights so early in the night?" He glanced briefly at the man whose lap he was half seated in. "Sparring match I was not aware of?"

Lips quirking faintly, Lucien shook his head. "None that I knew of." His dark blue eyes flicked up to meet Karai's in question.

Karai shook his head. "No. Actually, Master..." He hesitated. Was it right to draw their master into whatever quarrel was between them? He'd been so upset he hadn't been thinking straight. Still, now they were both looking at him curiously, and the game on the lawn was starting to show signs of stalling as the players noticed what was going on. Best to get it over quickly then, before there were any more witnesses.

He exhaled slowly. "I was wondering if you had seen Oliae this evening."

"Oliae?" Ciaran blinked, his grey eyes showing only faint surprise as he thought. "I should think you would be far more likely to know than I, but..." His brow furrowed slightly in contemplation. "I believe he has gone out to that village of his again."

This time it was Karai's turn to blink in surprise. "Village?"

"The little one," Ciaran explained, waving a hand off to his left. "About half an hour's flight north, I think."

While he was aware of the village - he always scouted the area when Ciaran moved the castle to a new location to make sure he was aware of any potential dangers - it certainly didn't seem like anything Oliae would be interested in for anything other than prey. And hunting wasn't anything that would take him away from the castle practically every other night. As old as he was, Oliae barely had to hunt at all these days.

Which meant he had some other reason for frequenting a tiny village so remote that it probably didn't even have a name.

Abruptly aware that the game had ceased and there were more eyes on him than he cared for, Karai repeated his earlier bow to his Master. "My thanks, Master." A nod to Lucien. "Lucien."

Ciaran smiled again, softer this time. "Fly safely, Karai."

"As you will it," Karai acknowledged, then spread his wings and launched himself into the sky, pausing only briefly to drop off his cloak on his tower balcony so the flowing fabric wouldn't slow him down. Then he was soaring through the night air, faster than any other living creature could even dream of moving, the moon-silvered landscape beneath him passing by in a dim blur.

A half hour's flight for any other winged creature was hardly that for him. Speed was one of those few things he had not lost when mortal belief in the old gods had faded, taking with it their power and, in many cases, their lives. Almost before he'd truly begun the flight it was over, the flickering lamplights calling him down from the skies in a silent, stealthy spiral.

Dropping down below the cover of the trees, Karai glided in close enough to catch sight of a small bonfire, around which were gathered what appeared to be most of the villagers... and Oliae.

Oliae, who was clad in a strange stitched-leather outfit Karai had never seen before, clothes and hair both accented with large, dark feathers. Smaller feathers made patterns across his tunic, the occasional flicker of light from the bonfire making them gleam oddly, and Karai frowned. Feathers didn't behave like that. Not normal feathers anyway. Either the feathers Oliae wore had been modified somehow, or they were Karai's.

One of the villagers stepped closer to Oliae, the torch in his hands adding its own glow and bringing out the faint illusion of oil upon water in each inky feather. Karai's own, then. Though he couldn't fathom why Oliae was wearing them.

"Behold the night!" Oliae announced suddenly, gesturing at the sky with a finely carved staff decorated with yet more feathers. Around him, the villagers began to move in deliberate ways, almost a dance and yet not quite.

Something about the dance was so familiar it was almost painful; Karai could not tear his eyes away. It had been so long since...

Since what?

The answer eluded him until two more villagers brought out a large bowl of fruit, placing it at Oliae's feet before rejoining the dancers. Oliae bent to place a single glossy feather atop the fruit, flanked by two tiny sprigs of oak, then he straightened and pointed down. His lips moved, though Karai could make out no words, and the contents of the bowl burst into flame.

His initial startled reaction - that was magic, vampires didn't do magic - was washed away by the staggering realization of just what he was witnessing. The dance, the fire, the offering. This was a sacred ritual to the old gods, the likes of which had not been performed in thousands of years. He ached to witness it, to remember what once had been his, and was no longer.

Why was Oliae doing this, when it was always he who urged Karai to let go of the past? To set aside all that he'd lost.

Why would Oliae do this to him?

Karai started at the sound of his name, focusing again on Oliae in the middle of the whirling crowd of dancers, speaking.

"Dark god of the sky, of the night. Lord of winged things, spread your wings over this small village and protect it from those who would do it harm. We beseech you, great god Karai."

For a long moment all he could do was stare in blank shock. The ritual was dedicated to him? But... why? He couldn't believe, nay, refused to believe what his foolish heart whispered. That hope should have been long dead. Was long dead. He couldn't afford to allow such foolishness to touch him now.

Suddenly angry, Karai launched himself into the sky, circling once before dropping down into the center of the clearing. He was going to get the answers he sought, regardless of what Oliae thought about it.

To his credit, the vampire didn't even bat an eye at Karai's abrupt arrival, even as the villagers scattered in fear. Karai glared darkly, wings mantling, but he didn't manage to get out more than "Oliae-" before something touched him.

Whirling, Karai found himself staring down at two of the humans, with more of them slowly creeping closer. All of them stared up at him with wide eyes, and far too many hands were reaching out toward him. He took a step back, forgetting for a moment that Oliae was behind him until his hasty movement caused him to collide with his lover.

Who had the temerity to snicker. "They don't bite, birdbrain." Oliae's voice was pitched low, too soft for human ears to hear. Karai, however, could hear him just fine.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, trusting to vampire senses to pick up the nearly inaudible words.

"Shut up and look impressive," Oliae shot back, stepping out from behind him and gesturing to the awestruck mortals.

"The Raven God Karai!" Oliae announced, throwing up his arms.

A brief rash of murmurs rippled through the crowd, stilling as swiftly as it had started, then one man reached out as though to touch Karai's wing before drawing back uncertainly.

Karai felt a momentary kinship to the man, as it seemed neither of them was entirely certain of just what was going on. He felt trapped between two times: the time he was in, and the time he remembered with such painful clarity.

"Oliae!" he hissed. "What am I supposed to do?"

The vampire's irritation was so subtle that he was certain none of the humans even noticed it. "How should I know? Do you know how much of a pain it was to get this far? You'd already Fallen from grace before I was even born! Nobody remembers how the old rituals went."

"Then how..." Karai started to ask, then shook his head. Later. He'd ask all of his questions later, in private, where they wouldn't be overheard. Instead, he directed his attention toward the waiting supplicants.

So long. It had been so long since he'd played this role, walked this path. It felt both comforting and disorienting, and he wasn't sure which sensation disconcerted him more. He'd made his peace with the past he'd lost forever... hadn't he?

More difficult now than it had been long ago, he called to the winged things within his reach. They came swiftly at his summons, settling into the trees, on rooftops, some of the braver birds even winging in and perching on human shoulders. Karai's respect for these people rose sharply as not a single one cried out in fear, though he could see fear in more than a few eyes.

"These are my eyes and ears, my little ones," Karai said quietly, drawing all attention back to himself again. "Though day and night they will watch and guard, protecting you from the dangers without. Respect them well, for they are like children to me."

Some of the fear eased, though not all, and one or two particularly brave villagers reached up to stroke along feathered backs. It was very difficult not to laugh as the birds reacted, leaning into the caresses, some going so far as to overbalance themselves and nearly fall off. To one side, Oliae did laugh, though not loudly enough to be heard. "Featherbrains," Karai heard him mutter.

Whispers spread through the crowd as they spoke amongst themselves, the few snatches Karai could discern focusing primarily on the birds and himself, though one or two made him blink and turn toward Oliae.

"Priest?" he inquired, arching a brow.

Oliae's lips quirked, blue eyes glittering in challenge. "Are you objecting?"

"Priest," Karai repeated flatly, then rolled his eyes. "A vampire priest."

Oliae snorted and shrugged. "They don't know."

Shaking his head, Karai snapped a hand out and grabbed the front of Oliae's shirt, yanking him close. "My 'priest' and I need to speak," he said aloud for the benefit of the wide-eyed villagers. "Send word via one of the birds if I am needed."

He spread his wings and launched into the sky, ignoring the muffled curses against his chest as Oliae protested. Futilely, for he wouldn't use his vampiric strength to break free and without it Karai held him securely pinned. They were high in the starry sky before Karai loosened his grasp enough that the words were clear.

"Being a little overly dramatic, weren't you?" Oliae groused, though he made no further attempts at getting away.

"Me?" Karai inquired archly. "You're the one wearing feathers. My feathers, unless I am greatly mistaken."

"They look ridiculous too," Oliae muttered, glaring at a few that were stitched to his shirt. A moment later he looked up at Karai, then promptly away. "On me, I mean," he added gruffly.