Chapter 10: The New Reality

"So, what did I do last night?" Owen hesitantly asked Brian, as the two lycans stepped into the sunlight.

"What can you remember? Tell me and I'll try to fill in the blanks."

"I remember you having some of the guys switching back and forth into and out of wol…er…lycan form," Owen answered, pausing as he struggled to remember. "I remember meeting your father and jumping over a fence that I shouldn't have been able to jump over. I remember the change hitting me…"

"And…" Brian prompted.

"I…don't remember. I have vague glimpses, sort of like the memories I have of places I know I've never been and people I know I've never met."

"Okay, those memories are what we call residual memories. It happens when you've been turned, and when you feed from another human. When Gottfreid bit you, you acquired a glimpse of his most powerful emotions. You can't make much sense out of them, because you don't have the experience to do so. Don't feel bad, I can't either. It takes centuries to master the skills behind memory transfer. Now, I'm more interested in the glimpses you received from what you did last night."

"I seem to remember feeling…strong and invincible…but I knew the rest of you were stronger than me. I remember taking out my…aggression…on a," Owen blushed with embarrassment. "On a cow."

"We all had a good feed," Brian smiled. "That's also why we dragged you out into a rural setting, it allowed you to stretch your legs and make a kill without endangering anyone."

"Okay, then I seem to remember a lot of air running through my hair and feeling free." Owen's blush was replaced with an almost dreamy smile. He was feeling joy for the first time, since becoming a lycan.

"We ran for miles," Brian confirmed. "It was good for you, a way for you to burn off that lycan energy without anyone outside the pack knowing about it."

"So, will I change again tonight?"

"I'd say you have about an even chance," Brian told him. "You won't be hungry for several days, since you fed yesterday. That's another advantage of being an immortal. Unless you're injured, you don't have to feed very often."

"You used the term 'immortals' yesterday, as well as today," Owen pointed out. "Are there immortals other than us, other than lycans?"

"Yes, there are," Brian told him. The former soldier guided his charge towards a pair of lawn chairs, under a shade tree. Once the two were seated, he continued his lecture. "There are two forms of immortals; us and the vampires. If you hear one of us talk about the 'bloods', we're not talking about a California gang, we're talking about vampires."

"Vampires? What else is out there? Dragons, pixies, leprechauns?"

"If there are, I've never seen one," Brian chuckled. "Of course, just because I haven't seen one doesn't mean that they don't exist. To the best of my knowledge, there's just us and the bloods."

"Gottfreid, the guy who bit me, talked about them," Brian said. "He seemed to hate them with a passion."

"Our two species don't get along," Brian told him. "We've been at war, for want of a better term, for centuries. I won't say who's at fault, because I don't really know. I know that our elder was once their slave, back in Europe."

"So I'm going to have to fight them?"

"I hope not," Brian told him. "There has never been a pitched battle between lycan and vampire, in North America. You see; they don't even realize that this pack exists. We go to painful lengths to keep our presence secret, to blend in with the human population."

"That's why you came and picked me up!" Owen interrupted. "If I had gone out of control, in suburban Topeka, the vampires would have realized that there was a lycan on the loose!"

"The regular humans would have realized it, as well,' Brian confirmed. "We aren't able to pick up every stray packmate. Sometimes the bloods get to him first and kill him."

"So where do the bloods live?"

"They have some mansions in New Orleans," Brian told him. "And they have some other properties, scattered around. We keep a couple of kinsmen in New Orleans, sniffing them out and watching them, as best we can. We don't take aggressive actions against them, but if they get too close to one of our properties, we eliminate them and try to hide the evidence, as best we can. To the best of our knowledge, the bloods think that there are a few, unorganized lycans on the continent, but don't realize how many of us there are, or how well organized we are."

"I've gotten a glimpse of what makes us lycans unique, what about the vampires?"

"I'm glad you asked. We have certain advantages over the bloods, and they have advantages over us. Bare in mind, I've never actually fought one, so I have to count on what the older packmates tell me. First of all, the bloods aren't vulnerable to crosses, holy water, garlic and other such stuff. They are vulnerable to sunlight, much more than we are. While sunlight forces us into our human forms, it actually burns them up."

"Just like some movies," Owen mused. "How about a stake through the heart?"

"Yeah, a thick stake through the heart will kill a blood, but keep in mind that a thick stake through the heart will kill you, as well."

"Okay, I can understand," Owen actually chuckled for the first time since arriving at Farrier Ranch. "What else can you tell me?"

"A blood is stronger and faster than our human form, but not as strong and fast as our lycan form. Keep in mind that this only goes for bloods about your age. Bloods and lycans grow stronger with time, so an elder vampire is a good sight stronger and faster than you are. Also, we always have a bit of heightened senses, such as smell and hearing even now, in our human forms. The bloods don't seem to have anything to counter that."

"Okay, so if we have the advantage over the bloods, and we're in a sort of war, why haven't the lycans defeated the vampires?"

"It's not that easy," Brian paused a moment to gather his thoughts. "The big advantage that the bloods have over us is that they become effective more quickly after turning. Owen, you're looking at several years, maybe a decade, before you'll be able to leave this ranch for more than a few hours. It takes that long to control your aggression. When the sun's down, you won't be able to control your changes and you won't be able to control yourself when the wolf takes over."

"So I'm sort of like a smart-mouthed teenager, who needs to be smacked down every once in awhile?"

"That's a good example," Brian smiled at him. "You're going to have to come to terms with your new condition. By all accounts, the bloods have a quicker, easier time. Last night, if you weren't out in an isolated environment and accompanied by us, you would have looked for humans to attack. From what the older packmates tell me, a vampire gets a grip on his condition a lot quicker, maybe a matter of weeks or months. When you get down to it, a blood is more capable than a lycan, at least initially while lycans have more potential. The key, for us, is staying alive long enough to realize it."

"So the lycans have to put in a greater investment in each new…recruit…before they see a payoff?"

"That's a very good way of describing it," Brian nodded. "So the loss of one of us hits us harder than the bloods."

"Do we…er, the pack, select people to bite and turn?"

"No," Brian shook his head. "What happened to you was a grave injustice. We don't condone biting our regular human cousins. This might sound odd, but it just isn't worth it. Very few people have the…factor…that allows them to embrace immortality. It isn't easy to resist biting humans, that's why we make sure we're well fed before leaving the ranch."

"If you…we…frown on this, how does the pack replenish its numbers?"

"Not all lycans have the restraint that we teach our young," Brian explained. "Inevitably, a few packmates will either flee this pack, or flee Europe, and we can't always track them down before they turn somebody. When that happens, we have a potential packmate. When you look at it, we operate similar to the way the Shakers used to."

"Who are the Shakers?"

"A religious group that history has almost forgotten. They believe in complete celibacy, so the only way they have to replenish their numbers is recruitment. Not many adults ever wanted to join, so the Shakers used to run orphanages. They raised the children that nobody else wanted and, for decades, enough of these kids grew up to become Shakers, themselves."

"So, the pack will raise me, so to speak, in hopes that I'll pay off?"

"Exactly. Now we do have other ways of reproducing. We can make young just like our normal, human cousins do, but it's a whole lot less certain. My parents were married for over forty years, and were pretty affectionate the whole time, before I came along. Put bluntly, natural birthing cannot replace those we loose to accidents and encounters with the bloods."

"How about normal humans?" Owen asked. "Are there intermarriages and…interbreeding?"

"The short answer is yes," Brian told him. "But it's very limited. First of all, we have to be very careful about marrying into normal human society. We don't age, so people become curious. Secondly, the pack demands honesty with our mates, so you really have to trust a potential wife. Finally, we remain very…unprolific. According to our records, we have only had a dozen marriages with humans, and they have only produced four children. Two of these children are lycan, the other two were human."

"Okay, so the pack has every reason to turn me into a productive lycan. I understand that it's going to take a lot of instruction and practice. What do I do in the meantime?"

"We're going to have to figure that out," Brian told him. "What did you do for a living?"

"I was a midlevel manager at an insurance company."

"What did you do at the ground level, you know, where did you work your way up from?"

"I was a risk assessor. I took a client's information and assessed his risk."

"Okay, you were a bit of a number cruncher?"

"That's a pretty fair assessment."

"Okay, we may be able to make use of that. The pack has certain assets; properties, real estate, and things like that. Now, we don't know you well enough to trust you, yet. In the meantime, we'll put you to work."

"What will you have me do?"

"You're going to learn how to mend fences, tend cattle, cut hay, generally be a country boy."

"When do I start?"

"Right now," Brian snickered. "Two of our kinsmen are bringing in hay. You don't need skill, just a strong back, to toss bales."

Brian led Owen across the yard towards a large barn. Suddenly, the new lycan stopped cold. "I…can smell Gottfreid's blood," he declared. "I can smell…death. What happened here?"

"Something I wish I didn't have to tell you," Brian sighed. "Gottfreid wouldn't work with us. He insisted that our way of life was wrong and that we should destroy the bloods and feed off of humanity. Because he was such a danger to the pack, our elder met him in individual combat and destroyed him."

"So if I don't play along, you kill me, as well?"

"It's a hard fact, but yes," Brian told the younger man. "I didn't want to tell you since I didn't want to intimidate you into compliance. The fact is if that loudmouth had gotten free and started acting like some sort of Mafia boss, the bloods would have tracked him down. I know the type, he would have sold us out if they caught him."

"And the bloods would have come here?"

"That's not the worst part," Brian told him. "We're well defended here. We can hold the bloods off long enough to scatter to other strongholds. The big problem is that the bloods would have known that we have an organized presence on the continent. They would start looking for us." Brian looked at his companion with pity. "Like it or not, your fate is tied up with the pack's. I hope you realize that our elder didn't enjoy killing Gottfreid. He did it for the good of our kind."

"Who is our elder?"

"His name is John. You've already met him."

"Oh, I don't recall him from last night."

"He's they guy who shot you with that silver dart back in Topeka. He's the man who told you that some of your nightmares had come true."

"He seemed more like a kindly father than a war leader."

"That's how he prefers to act. He doesn't like killing other lycans, so that's what makes it even harder for him when it becomes necessary."

"Where is he now?"

"He's meeting with his staff. After killing another lycan, he buries himself in work."

Owen had a lot on his mind as he spent the rest of the afternoon unloading and stacking bales, with another new member named Herzl.

"Okay everyone, everybody knows what happened last night, so there's no need to review it," John told his assembled staff. John stood at the head of a long table, around which the five members of his staff sat. "With the situation in Eastern Europe affecting us rather keenly, and having the potential to affect us even more, I'm going to start out the meeting with the deuce. P2, please give your report."

A seemingly young woman, who gave any observer the impression of a studious schoolteacher, stood up and walked to the end of the table opposite John, as the elder took his seat.

"Kinswomen and kinsmen," she addressed the group. "Most of you have heard rumors of the conflict in Europe. Here is what we know. First, we know that Ordoghaz, the center of the bloods' power in Eastern Europe has burned to the ground. We also know that Amelia, Victor and Lucian are dead."

"How firm is this information?" One of the men at the table asked, as the others sat dumbfounded.

"One of our new recruits, Herzl, personally observed Amelia's and Victor's deaths and Lucian's body," she answered. "Our elder confirmed these claims through Gottfreid's blood memories. Hungarian television reported the fire several weeks ago. This, however, isn't the most disturbing news."

"Herzl's testimony, confirmed by Gottfreid's blood memories, tells us that Lucian was attempting to merge the immortal races, forming a hybrid with neither race's weaknesses. While neither of these kinsmen knew how Lucian intended to accomplish this, they know that he succeeded. Somehow, Lucian turned his subject, Michael, into such a hybrid."

"The second piece of disturbing news," she continued, silencing the murmuring around the table. "Is that one of Victor's own Death Dealers killed him. While we do not have consistent contact with our European kin, we have been able to debrief the occasional refugee, over the centuries. This information has led us to believe that Selene was the Death Dealer who killed Victor." She paused for effect, "Our records indicate that she was fiercely loyal to him right up to the time she killed him."

"The final piece of disturbing news," she concluded, once again silencing the gossip. "Is that the Cleaners appear to have vanished. While we never understood their motivation, we benefited from their efforts to keep the general, human population from knowing about the immortals. Various Eastern European news sources are reporting odd bodies and sightings, consistent with lycans and bloods. These reports have increased in the last few weeks, since the elders' deaths and Ordoghaz's destruction."

"What are your conclusions?" John asked.

"I conclude that there has been a major upheaval in the bloods' ruling structure," she informed her elder. "Not only have we confirmed that two of the elders are dead, I suspect that Marcus is either dead or incapacitated. If Marcus were in control, I think he would eliminate the risky behavior that the European bloods are taking."

"In other words, nobody is in control of the European bloods and turf wars are breaking out," John chimed in.

"That's my analysis," she agreed. "I conclude that our European kin are doing much the same. The packs are fighting each other, as the individual leaders are attempting to consolidate power. This is in addition to the normal, intra-species skirmishing taking place."

"Okay, it's time for the big picture," John announced. "How does this affect us?"

"This situation constitutes the greatest danger to this pack in my two centuries of life," she declared. "These two factors, the loss of leadership and the loss of the Cleaners, compound each other. At the very moment when the loss of leadership causes the underworld war to degenerate into chaos, the very organization that suppresses the evidence vanishes. Should the general population become aware of the European immortals, it will only be a matter of time until we are discovered."

"What actions do you suggest?" John prompted.

"At the moment, we can do little more than monitor the situation," she answered. "If we attempt to affect the European conflict, we risk the very exposure we're trying to prevent. My recommendations are to increase our surveillance of US and Canadian ports of entry and to place covert assets in Eastern Europe, to gain more information. We have no knowledge about the immortal factions present nor their intentions."

"We don't know about this hybrid, either," one of the men at the table declared. "What is he capable of and how does he affect all of this?"

"According to Gottfreid's blood memories," the P2 answered, with a nod towards John. "He is very capable. Minutes after becoming a hybrid he was able to hold his own, for a short time, against Victor himself."

"Don't underestimate that accomplishment," John chimed in. "I don't think that I could handle Victor. This young man has incredible potential. Carry on."

"Yes, elder. He was last seen leaving with Selene, the death dealer. The two appeared to be very affectionate towards each other when they left Lucian's den. This development, an obvious emotional attachment between a known, dedicated Death Dealer and an individual with untapped potential, is also highly troubling. As a worst case scenario, we can assume that the two of them are making some sort of attempt to seize control of the vampire coven. The fact that Selene killed Victor seems to support this theory."

She let the implications from this possibility sink in for a moment before continuing, "on the other end of the spectrum, we can assume that Selene and this hybrid are also refugees, who fled to escape the chaos. The fact that we have no reliable sightings of the two seems to support this theory. All in all, the two represent a potent, unknown factor in the current equation."

"Okay, fair enough," John motioned for her to retake her seat. "Now that we've all been formally briefed, I need some plans of action. P3?"

The man who had been asking the P2 the most questions stood up. "We have the assets to eliminate the New World Coven, if we need to," he declared. "And we have multiple operational plans all written up. However, I agree with the P2 in that such decisive action would only call unwanted attention, from both the general population and the European bloods. I suggest we concentrate our surveillance efforts on seaports. We know that the bloods do not like to travel by airliner and our own, European cousins usually don't have the resources or documentation to do so."

"In addition," he continued. "I suspect that any blood refugees will head straight to the New World Coven. My suggestion is that we increase our surveillance there. We know that the coven has properties throughout the continent, so they may try to settle refugees into these properties. That may give us the opportunity to map these out."

"Very well, I approve," John told him. "I want a full plan of action by tomorrow afternoon. P1?"

Another woman took her place at the end of the table, as the P3 returned to his seat. The P1 discussed the pack's members, producing charts showing which members were approaching the time they would have to be shuffled. She also detailed which pack members were due for another enlistment and which were do for higher education. The P2 and P3 joined in the discussion, since the shuffling of personnel affected their areas of responsibility. Finally, the P1 finished her report and returned to her seat, making way for the P4.

The P4 produced charts detailing the ranch's blood production and the efforts needed to keep the pack, both on the ranch and away, supplied with this commodity. He concluded that the lycan's herds could produce enough blood to feed a lycan population fifty percent greater than the pack's current numbers. Secondly, he reviewed weapon production. Finally, he reviewed the pack's assets and wealth. "We can purchase a diary ranch, in Austria, if we wish to do so," he concluded. "While this isn't a large ranch and the national laws require us to employ Austrian nationals, I estimate that we will be able to supply three kinsmen from this herd. This will give us a forward supply point, if the P2 puts an asset in Eastern Europe."

John readily agreed to this purchase, instructing the P4 to pursue the negotiations. A few minutes later, he dismissed his staff members. Killing Gottfreid had been hard on him but he had gained precious knowledge. He was ready to guide the pack through these tumultuous times, as long as no more surprises cropped up.

"So what are we going to gain by visiting this particular ranch?" Erika demanded, as the two stepped out of the car and approached the farmhouse.

"I believe that this is the next step on our journey, metaphorically speaking of course," Tanis answered. "This is the address the Montana rancher, who had stayed that fateful night in Tennessee, left at the motel."

"I know that!" Erika snapped. "But what are we hoping to accomplish?"

"To let him know we're here, of course," Tanis smiled.

"What if he's a lycan?"

"I'm counting on that."

"What!" Erika sputtered, then held her tongue as Tanis rang the doorbell.

There was a several minute delay before the rancher answered the door. A surprised look crossed his face for only a moment before he addressed his visitors.

"Hello," he said. "Are you folks lost? It isn't often that I get company out here after dark."

"My apologies, my good man," Tanis replied, emphasizing his European accent. "We're investigative reporters, working on a piece about a nature-loving cult. This cult was possibly involved in an incident, in Tennessee, when you were there to purchase a bull. Would you mind answering some questions?"

The rancher invited them in, seated them at his kitchen table and served them some coffee. He explained that his wife was visiting relatives, leaving him alone in the house, before answering all of their questions about the incident that the duo had discussed with the sheriff a few days earlier. After a little more than an hour of conversation, the young rancher rose to his feet.

"I have to be up early tomorrow," he explained. "So I have to be in bed soon. I wish you all the luck in the world with your article, but I honestly don't know anything about any kind of beast-cult."

The two vampires left their untouched coffee on the table and thanked the man. "We'll be staying here for the next several days," Tanis told him, giving him the address of the house, with the concrete floor and windowless basement, in the nearest town. "If you can remember anything else, please let us know. If we can't find out anything more, we'll have to continue our search elsewhere."

"So did you learn anything?" Erika asked her companion, as she drove them back to town.

"He's a lycan, alright," Tanis smiled.

"How do you know?"

"It was when he answered the door," Tanis explained. "He caught our scent and knew we were vampires, or bloods, like the lycans call us."

"So why didn't you present him with our request for sanctuary?"

"Because he, and his pack, aren't fools. That poor bloke is some sort of front man. I have no doubt that the lycans have placed him at that location so that any investigations come to him, giving him a good chance to look over the investigators. He knew we were vampires, but he didn't know if we were acting on our own, if we knew he was a lycan, or if we were being watched." The historian snorted. "He even tried to entice us into attacking him."

"How's that?"

"He made sure that we knew that he was alone. Maybe he really was alone, I don't know. If we were simply a pair of restless youngsters out for a bit of poaching, we would have taken him once we realized he was alone. THAT would have proven a fatal surprise, I'm sure."

"Anyway," Tanis shook the idea of two, inexperienced vampires suddenly running into a lycan out of his head. "He took several minutes to answer the door; probably using that time to sniff us out for weapons. Once he knew we weren't armed, he indicated to us that he was vulnerable, to see how predisposed towards violence we were. Had we attacked him, being nothing more than a couple of poachers, we would have never returned to the coven."

"Okay, he knows we're vampires," Erika concluded. "Now what do we do?"

"We return to our house, of course," Tanis informed her. "After we feed, that is. The variety of agricultural endeavors around here gives us a great deal of potential variety. Do you feel like beef, mutton or whatever the correct term for llama blood happens to be?"

"Why feed? We fed last night. I'm good for another week."

"Another lesson about life on the run," Tanis lectured. "Feed as often as you can. You never know when the next moment will bring on a serious wound. Keep your energy reserves at their peak, so you are prepared to heal at all times."

"Is it really that dangerous?"

"Absolutely," Tanis no longer had his usual sense of humor. "The lycans are going to be deadly serious. I'm suspecting that they will try to investigate us, find out if we're alone, before capturing us for questioning. At that point, we should be able to trade information for sanctuary."

"What if they decide we're some sort of scouts or spies?"

"Then they'll either avoid us or destroy us."

"Tanis," Erika glared at her companion. "I'm beginning to wish I had never met you."

"Quite all right, my dear," he answered, his droll sense of humor once again re-asserting itself. "I quite often wish I never gotten to know myself. Ah! I see an untended flock of sheep up ahead. How about a quick…daycap…before we turn in?"

A/N: I know that I sound like a broken record, but I really appreciate everyone who has continued to read this story. Again, my fondest thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for his beta services.

Until my next update, best wishes;

daccu65