Bright fluorescent light suddenly filled my surroundings, and instinctively I scurried as far as a could into my metal box. I heard the dull thump of boots and the clang of weapons. I stared terrified at the iron hatch on the other side of the room. There was nowhere to hide from them. I could feel death breathing down my neck. I had heard the doctors talking. My first change had been exactly three days ago to the hour, and according to them my powers were no longer stable. My 'containment chamber' could no longer hold my powers at bay. They were going to terminate me.

In the movies, the heroine would make a daring escape just minutes before her death. She would be rescued by her long lost friends who had been hatching a complicated, daring rescue and sabotage over the last two years. But no one was coming to save me. I was going to die and they would never know what happened to me.

Would I be a ghost? Could Necromancers even become ghosts? Oh yeah. That man from the Lyle House basement.

I shivered and tucked my knees closer to my chest. The flimsy hospital gown I was wearing did nothing to stop the chill of the metal from seeping into my bones. My "cell" was actually a Frankenstein's monster of patchwork metal sheets and plating with a door worthy of Fort Worth. My breath came out in short puffs as I stared intently at the door. Every muscle in my body was tensed and ready to jump.

I imagined how thin I must look. They hadn't been feeding me enough to support my new metabolism. They weren't even feeding me enough to manage the appetite I had before. My strawberry blonde hair draped around my face like a curtain and pooled on the floor at my feet. It was matted almost beyond hope.

Peering between the part in my tresses, I watched in growing horror and fascination as the gears moved and rearranged until the final bolt slid back from its base.

(A.N... Imagine the vault door from Gringotts but less whimsical and more of a clinical steampunk.)

It slid open soundlessly and a ray of yellow light shot through and caressed the pale skin of my bare legs. I stared at it in fascination. In my peripheral vision I glimpsed at least three pairs of Haz-Mat boots marching uniformly towards me. I continued to examine the beam of a type of light I hadn't seen in so long. Sun light. I was seeing sun light for the first time in I don't know how long. I wiggled my toes, watching dust particles dance in the air. A wide smile broke out across my face. The men began talking nervously to each other.

"Wha-What is it smiling about?"

I couldn't even muster up the energy to be mad about being called an 'it'.

"Sun." I breathed.

I glanced up, and I saw them. I saw my thin, hunger pained face and impossibly big blue eyes reflected in their brown ones. And I saw the sad look on their faces. At first I couldn't understand why they would be sad. It was their job to kill me. Or at the very least deliver me to my place of passing. But then it hit me. These assholes felt sorry for me. And I'll admit, I probably looked pretty pathetic and depressing. Like a real life Sarah Mclachlan commercial. Except instead of abused puppies and kitties, it was an underfed originally genetically modified Necromancer turned gene spliced super freak turned werewolf. I bet it just tugged at the heartstrings. A real sob story.

I could feel myself getting angry, but then a huge wave of sadness crashed over me. I let out a strangled sob and toppled forward. One of them rushed forward to catch me, and he swooped my small body into his arms. I took the opportunity to study him. He had a kind face, his hair had just begun to grey. He probably had a family. Kids, maybe my age or a little younger. Or a lot younger. Who the hell knew at this point though.

I could feel my body rocking with each step he took. He stroked my hair and whispered meaningless lies into my hair. It reminded me of when my dad used to carry me to bed. Telling me it would be okay. How it'll all be okay. To just sleep. That no one would hurt me, It wasn't true. I knew that, but that didn't mean it wasn't still nice to hear. I missed my Daddy. I even shed a tear for my Mom. I would never see either of them alive again. Suddenly I could feel myself being laid down on another cold, hard surface. I let them strap me down just like every other procedure. I couldn't find the will to care anymore. The leather straps bit into my skin viciously. A door hissed open to my left, but I didn't even spare it a glance. Until I heard the voices, that is.

"You have five minutes to say your private goodbyes, Steven."

Steven?

I listened as tentative footsteps slowly brought the man closer to me.

I prayed to every deity I could think of that this was not my father.

"Chloe? Chloe hun..."

I let out a hoarse whimper.

"Please no. Daddy no. Not you daddy. Not you too." At this point I was hysterical.

"Shhh, Chloe. My sweet girl. I love you so much. Never forget that. Now I need you to listen to me closely. I'm so sorry. I only ever wanted to protect you. I didn't mean for it to come to this but you have to trust me. When you get out of here, you take my car and go back to the house we lived in before the group home. Underneath the floorboards where your bed was, you'll find my final will and testimate. Waste no time in claiming it. You'll also find a small box with things your mother left for you. I'm so, so sorry my sweet baby girl. I hope you can forgive me."

He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead and stroked my hair back like when I was little. Back when we were a family.

The door hissed open again, and then Davidhoffs replacement came in, holding a gun. My dad looked at me with a sad expression on his face.

"NO! DADDY PLEASE!"

"I love you Chloe."

He lifted the gun, and aimed it at my fathers temple. I pulled against the restraints, but I didn't have the strength. I sobbed and started thrashing hysterically. My veins started to thrum, and my skin began to glow a dull violet. My eyesight shifted as if a lens had suddenly snapped into place. I loud shot resonated through out the lab room. I heard both the rattle of beakers and the splat of my Dads brains against the wall. It was all I could do to stare at the carnage. At the same time, I felt the pressure building inside of me. My heart sang and my lungs constricted. My head was pounding, my vision narrowing down to pinpricks. My skin rippled, and my nails lengthened and thickened. A murky black bubble was surrounding me, and I could just barely see the new Head of the department staring at me in removed horror. The leather restraints snapped, and the table began to melt into a bubbling pool of liquefied stainless steel. And still the pressure built. It pressed against the inside of my skin, filling every empty space. I couldn't contain it. I wouldn't. They killed my dad. They probably killed my Mommy too. I was an orphan.

The thought slammed me like a ton of bricks. It only fueled the rage and magic bubbling within me. I couldn't contain it. I was going to explode, and I was taking this damn facility with me.

It was radiating off of me in waves now. My instincts were trying to get me to repress it. But I ignored it. Figuring it might work like my Necromantic powers, I imagined my body as a pair of flood gates. I imagined throwing them open and the water pouring through. I didn't know if a surge of power like this would destroy me or not, but it was too late to stop it. I felt my bones give one final shudder, and then I exploded.

The effect was almost unreal. I watched through my shaded vision as the blast tore through every wall, every floor and every door. Everything within the compound was blown apart and incinerated. There was no time for anyone to scream.

As the dust settled, I opened my eyes. I was sitting a top a small pile of rubble. The rest if the terrain was newly flattened. Patting down my body, I quickly realized that I was naked. Not even my hospital rags had survived. I glanced around, and everything within a mile radius was completely destroyed. The immediate landscape was a desolate grey, until I spotted a spot of orange on the horizon. I was covered in soot and ash and incredibly vulnerable. I glanced back at the orange blip to see that it had gotten closer, and had taken shape. My eyes widened in disbelief. It was a tiger, and it was loping towards me quickly.

Instinctively, my body pushed through the change. My bones snapped, crackled and popped. I honestly sounded like a bowl of Rice Crispies. My nose elongated into a muzzle and my teeth sharpened. My ears shifted up to the top of my head and strawberry blonde fur sprouted from my skin.

It took me less than five minutes, but the big jungle cat was already upon me, and it was staring at me coolly. My vibrant blue wolf eyes widened as the tiger began to shift into a human shape. Oddly enough, neither I, nor my wolf felt threatened by this thing. Before I knew it, a blonde man, as naked as I had just been, was standing in front of me. He had beautiful amber eyes and sharp cheekbones, with an equally sharp chin. His shoulders were narrow and he was lightly built with lots of lean, sinewy muscles. he sat down cross legged in front of me, having to readjust his long legs several times before he could get comfortable. When he finally managed it, he rested his elbows on his knees and laid his chin in his hands, cupping his angular face.

We stared at each other levelly for several long, calculating moments before he finally spoke.

"Hello Chloe. My name is Lorif. I am your Witches' familiar."