A/N: Bear with me. I had my wisdom teeth cut out a couple days before beginning this, so I'm in a lot of pain. Other than that, I hope you enjoy. Remember: I do not own Nico or Will or any universe that belongs to Rick Riordan. There are, however, OCs in this fic. You have been warned.
~ΨΩΨ~
Ghosty
Prologue: Moonlit
Will Solace had never been a real fan of winter. Quite the opposite, in fact—his colleagues and coworkers seemed to agree that he had the mind of a bear whenever winter came along. That is to say: sleep. He could tell what they meant now. Though he usually thought himself to be diligent and swift in his work, he found himself nodding off in his cubical in the hospital at only fifteen past ten that night. Kayla caught him dozing and gently scolded him, forcing him to go home and rest. Though Will grumbled and complained about the extra load of work he would have to do tomorrow, he didn't argue. Something was off that night. He never fell asleep during work. Ever.
So Will trudged through the snow-covered pavement to his car, and he paused at the door. He glanced over the top of the car, back towards the hospital. He was tempted to go back inside to finish the work he still had to do, but he knew that Kayla was watching him somewhere inside, ready to shove him into a snowbank the moment he tried to "overwork" himself again.
He couldn't help but chuckle. Kayla was like a sister to him—a kind but very stubborn sister. Will got into his car, started it. He shivered, cursing himself for being so weak. Even if he overworked himself, the hospital was warm. He hated waiting the long agonizing minutes for his vehicle to warm up to a proper temperature.
His journey home was short. Little traffic moved along that time of day, and he sped along as best he could to be home as soon as possible. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't been home early enough to see Clara in a very long time. Perhaps he could catch her before she went to bed?
When Will reached his home (a modern-styled mansion provided from his father's wealth), one of his male housekeepers was waiting for him. Fenwick, he believed his name was. Clara called him Finny.
Fenwick was speaking the moment Will walked into the mansion. "Miss Clara has gone missing, Mr. Solace."
Will's blood went cold. "What?"
Fenwick dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. He was pale and incredibly fidgety. "Her maid left to get her a cup of warm milk before bed and found her gone when she returned. There was this note on the desk." He handed Will a scrap of tissue paper.
I saw something outside the window again, Judith! I'm going out to find whatever it was. If it's a dog again—don't tell Daddy! I want to train him special so Dad will keep him this time. ~C.S.
Will crumpled up the tissue in his hand. "Have you notified the police about this?"
"Judith was heading off to do just that moments ago, Mr. Solace," Fenwick replied. "It hasn't been very long since she disappeared. In fact, I'm quite surprised that you're home early. But I'll call that the fate of God. You should go, Mr. Solace! She can't have gotten far! You should find her before she gets lost or—"
Will was already running out of earshot before the man could finish his thought.
Clara Eve Solace, Will scolded silently. If this is about another damn dog—you're grounded for a month! No six year old should walk outside this time of day, especially with the kinds of people that live in this town!
There was enough moonlight for Will to just barely make his way through the backyard woods without running into a tree or tripping over a root. There was an old path in the woods that Clara used to take all the time when Will and her mother would walk with her, and he jogged down it blindly while calling out his daughter's name. Where could she have gone?
"Daddy? Daddy!" a voice cried out.
Will skittered to a stop just as a mop of bright blonde hair popped into view. "Clara! What were you thinking running out here all on your own? You could have gotten hurt—"
Clara grabbed his hand with a grip far stronger than any normal six year old and tugged him back where she came. "Come on, Daddy!" she said. Her eyes, blue like her father's, were swimming in tears. "Come quick! He's hurt! He needs help!"
"He who?" Will gasped as he stumbled behind her.
They ran into a tiny clearing in the woods, the moon above lighting everything in a silver tinge. But there was no mistaking the color of blood that stained the grass.
As Will struggled to catch his breath, Clara let go of him and dashed over to a mound of red, black and silver fur. She fell to her knees next to it.
"Daddy!" she cried, turning to where he was standing, frozen. "He's really hurt. Help him, Daddy! You're a doctor! Heal him!"
"That's a wolf!" Will said back. "I'm a doctor, not a veterinarian!"
Tears spilled over Clara's cheeks, and her trembling hands gripped the wolf's matted fur, staining her hands red. "Daddy, help him," she begged.
Shit. Clara hadn't cried like that in years.
As though being controlled by strings, Will found himself kneeling beside his daughter and the injured wolf. He had never grown strong enough to resist his daughter's tears. It would be like letting her down all over again. He hated to see that happen.
Will laid his hand on the beast's flank. The wolf made a small sound and opened his eyes the tiniest bit, fixing the man with a look that reminded him of a glare.
"He's lost a lot of blood," Will said obviously. He brushed away some of the red-soaked fur to reveal the primary source of the blood—a wound over his right foreleg. It looked deep, and it was full of dirt and other grime. "Clara. I want you to do something for me. I want you to go back to the mansion and tell them to contact Michael. Okay? Have them contact Uncle Mike. Tell him what's wrong. I'm going to try and stunt the blood flow for now. If you can, get him to come here as soon as possible. Got it?"
Clara looked determined. She nodded. "Yes, Daddy. He'll be okay, won't he?"
Will's heartstrings twisted at the concern in his daughter's voice. "Yeah. Yeah, he'll be just fine. Now go!"
She disappeared into the woods as Will returned his attention to the wolf. He ripped off a strip of his shirt and balled it up, using it to press against the beast's wound. The wolf grunted, scraped the ground with a weak paw.
"You move and you'll die," Will snapped, knowing full well that the wolf wouldn't understand him. He could help himself, though. "Hell, if you die, Clara will be disappointed in me all over again. Don't you fucking dare do that to me. After Kathrine…" Will shook his head. "Clare won't forgive me a second time."
The wolf opened his eyes a little more, the silver of the moon clashing with the dark color of the beast's fur.
"Stay alive," Will demanded.
Raising his head a little, the wolf touched his nose to Will's arm. It was colder than the night air and dry—weren't dog noses supposed to be moist?
Will hadn't thought to bring any water with him, but it was too late to worry about that now. For the time being, he needed to keep the wolf alive until someone came who actually knew what to do. He ripped off another strip of his shirt and replaced the bloodied material against the beast's wound. The cold air made him shiver. It must be nice to have a blanket of fur right about then.
The wolf groaned and shifted on the ground. He nosed Will's arm again.
"You'll bleed out if you move," Will reminded him helplessly.
He grunted and stood anyway, shaking like a leaf as he struggled to his feet. He held his head and tail low, his ears folded against the back of his head. But he was standing.
Will couldn't put pressure on the wound while the wolf was standing, so he threw away the bloody compress and stood. "Is this it, then?" he grumbled, aching at the thought of telling his daughter how he couldn't save the wolf. She'd blame him even if he told her that the wolf had voluntarily left his care.
The wolf looked at him. Tilted his head. Nudged Will's leg. Then he hopped a few steps in the direction Clara had disappeared. He grunted and turned to look at Will. It was almost a pointed look, like are you coming, or not?
Not knowing what else to do, Will followed the wolf as he limped and hobbled slowly to the old trail and headed towards the mansion. Blood steadily trickled from the wound, but it seemed as though it was clotting up.
Will was baffled by how the wolf seemed to know what was going on. He kept close to Will's side as he limped on, sometimes resorting to lean heavily on the man's leg whenever he needed a moment to regain some strength. It was a long hour before they could make it back to the mansion, and by then the police were in the driveway and Michael himself was pulling into the lot. Clara was at the backyard door, and she cried out loudly when she caught Will and the injured wolf edging towards the building. She ran to them. The wolf sat on his haunches heavily, but his head was held high and proud for the girl when she fell to her knees and hugged him around the neck.
"Easy, Clare," Will said as gently as he could. "He's still really hurt. Did I see Michael's van pull into the driveway?"
Clara nodded wildly, but she couldn't speak. She was sobbing into the wolf's neck fur.
Not minutes later, Michael and a couple of policemen were with them. Mike, a vet with several animals of his own, kneeled beside Clara and asked her gently to let go of the wolf so he could get a look at the damage. She was obviously reluctant, but she let go of him in the end.
Mike seemed to know exactly where to look, examining the wound on the wolf's foreleg with a guarded expression. "He walked quite a ways, I'm sure?"
Will nodded. "He got up and came all the way here after Clara found him a quarter mile in the woods. Walked here, back, and here again from what I understand."
Michael nodded, and turned his attention to several other wounds that were on his opposite flank. "It's amazing he could walk this far. He's obviously lost a lot of blood." He looked over at Clara. "You say you want him to stay here, dear?"
Clara nodded.
"Clare…" Will sighed. "The wolf will get better much faster if we let him go home with Uncle Mike."
Clara's tears hadn't stopped their flow since they'd first spilled over. She sobbed and hugged the wolf again. "But—if he—"
"He'll be fine," Will promised her. "Uncle Mike will make sure of that. And he'll be fine much faster if you let him go home with Mike for a while. Alright?"
"I'll bring him back the moment he's strong enough," Michael said. He laid a hand on Clara's shoulder. "Uncle's honor. Cool?"
Clara's bottom lip trembled. She nodded.
"Alright," Mike said tenderly. "You want to help me get him into the van while Daddy talks to these kind men?"
Clara nodded again.
Mike squeezed Will's shoulder and shared a look with him. He probably won't make it.
Will tipped his head. Try.
Mike nodded and turned to the wolf. He collected him in his arms with an ease Will could never have pulled off, and walked away with Clara trailing worriedly behind them.
Will watched them until he could no longer see them, and he turned to address the disgruntled and probably exhausted policemen.
If the wolf didn't make it…hopefully Clara wouldn't blame him for it. He couldn't bear the thought of it. It was like a stone had settled in the base of his gut—always there, and always uncomfortable.
For that moment, he just tried to swallow that feeling and return his attention to the police.
