Chapter 11: Deception

Vivian Gandillon

Ditto the fact I'm half pack leader. Ditto the fact that I'm the only one Ross'll talk more than two words to. Ditto the fact that this place has some serious repairs needed done urgently, and I could help. It's a Monday, and guess what that means? I have to admit, I was feeling more than a little feral when I woke up this morning in my wolf skin entwined like a Celtic know with Gabriel. But since descending from the rocky ledge too early as the sun began to rise so I could have a shower- somehow I think turning up on my first day of school covered in dirt and leaves would not be a good advertisement for our establishment- I'm feeling anything but. Gabriel followed me up to the front door, his grip on my hand firm as he murmured everything that could be done in a shower into my ear if you have another person to help you until Bucky strolled up, calling him away to sort out some dispute between the five. He gave me a once over before regretfully letting me go and strolling to solve the problem. Any other time I might have snapped at Bucky to let the five solve it themselves, but I suspect I'll never get to school it I let Gabriel in my shower.

After a shower that felt as though it was peeling away all the raw memories from the night before layer by layer I sifted through my diminished wardrobe, making a mental note to check Esmé's for additions. Finally decided on a crimson sundress that seemed to blend with my Tawny hair (or so according to Renata) I pulled it over my head, scrunched up my hair and pausing in front of the mirror realized that the dress came mid thigh, and was going to ride a lot higher when I sat. With a sigh I changed into a pair of fitted Levis in dark navy and a muscle top. I looked around automatically, before I remembered I'd burnt all reminders of my Maryland High school, including bag, books and papers. Shrugging, I looked remorsefully at the still perfectly white walls of the flat before turning out the front door, almost colliding with Gabriel. "Damm. I was hoping-" "I know what you were hoping, and it's not going to happen because I need to get to school today- not next moon," I pointed out, feeling a little depressed. Words can't describe how much I'd prefer being able to spend today investigating Gabriel's finer points, but if it was an education I had to receive, I was going to get it without complaining or die trying. If it occurred to me that these next three months of school were going to be a test to see if I had what it took to be the queen of this pack, I kept it in the back of my mind.

Gabriel whistled low and long, settling for swinging me into his arms and carrying me across the courtyard to the car park. "You drive a hard bargain, Viv. Sure you don't want to reconsider?" he asked, somehow knowing damm well the position I'd put myself into. I stubbornly refused to answer, lightly falling to my feet as we entered the car park, filled with vehicles in variation spreading from Rudy's Alfa Spider (he came up when Gabriel called him following the unsolved savaging on Saturday night) to the five's beaten up bikes. I headed for the Spider, but Gabriel dragged me towards his bike- the biggest, beefiest bike I've ever seen that had arrived in one of the moving vans. "No. No way. Not at this time in the morning. People actually sleep in Vermont," I pointed out but Gabriel just grinned. "You deprived me of a shower," he softly rumbled, his eyes going soft, as though that was justification enough. "Actually, you deprived you a shower, but I get your point." I swallowed. The last time I'd been on that bike it was getting a ride to a concert to try and win Aiden back… and it hadn't ended well.

When Gabriel sits on a motorbike, I'm not quite sure what it is, but there is almost this instinctive reaction to ride it as hard and fast as possible. All very well if you have a death wish. Not so good if you're holding on for dear life as you skid and slide at disturbing speeds down the windy gravel road down to Vermont, howling in the complete exhilaration of it. And that's the best way I can describe the experience. Exhilarating. Hitting the formed tar sealed road the speed dropped substantially and as the untamed countryside on the verge of the national park I allowed my fingers to slip beneath his olive shirt and wander the groves of his rock hard stomach, raising goose-bumps. How do I hold power over him like this? Sliding through the village for the first time, I pressed my face into his back, not really wanting anything to do with the civilization I can never seem to escape. The vibrations of the bike slowed and I looked up to see that we were at the gate of a surprisingly large high school- it must cater for all of Vermont. Students all decked out in various shades of pastel milled around, sitting on the brick work, screaming bloody murder and walking blindly to the next class. Everyone turned to look as Gabriel drove up and I grinned.

"You'd better stop before I get a bad reputation," I murmured teasingly into his ear. Suddenly he gunned the engine, skipping the footpath and coming to rest in the smack centre of the entrance. I moved to slide off but in some impressive flexibility he pulled my over until I was trapped between him and the engine, gripping his waist to keep from falling. "Now wouldn't that be devastating," he whispered, his face brushing mine before I covered his lips with my own, drawing him deep into a passionate kiss that left me oblivious to the crowds of gaping students. Finally, we pulled apart. "Thank you for ruining this for me," I whispered softly into his ear and he raised his head to softly bite my earlobe. "Oh, I haven't done anything yet. I have plans-" "You always do, and this time you're going to be low on your luck." Carefully pulling me upright he smiled that slow, smoldering smile with liquid eyes as he saw nobody but me.

"I can be very persuasive," he softly rumbled and I grinned. "No doubt… but do you truly feel safe leaving me here for six hours with all these hunks?" I asked, and he looked around at the tall awkward guy who turned red when he realized his staring had been noticed. He pulled me close again. "Because I trust you. Do you trust me?" I mocked a thoughtful expression. "Of course no," I lied. He grinned and parted my lips again in a fight for dominance that sent a trill down my spine and made my toes curl. "Your lips say no, your actions say yes," he whispered before releasing me onto the footpath. He had me on that one. Slightly louder as the bike rolled back onto the street he called, "have a nice day, Viv." I watched as he vanished back up the street, the air vibrating with the engines growl until he was gone and I felt a feeling of loneliness wash over me that I hadn't felt in what feels like so long. Slowly I sighed through my nose, and glanced across at the buildings. Grudgingly I took a single step so I was standing inside the school yard, when every molecule of my body longed to be 20 kilometers from here, on a rocky ledge staccatoed by small pebbles a jet black almost like obsidian and lined on one side by thick rugged bush.

I gritted my teeth hard and took another step and another. The third step came easier, and suddenly I was walking fluidly towards the flaky building with the painted 'office' sign. But out of the corner of my eye I kept seeing Bingo's wicked grin, Jem's skin head cut and Aiden's exotic tees, but the instant I turned my head I realized that the people looked nothing like any of the amoeba. But the people here functioned almost like that pack, and this gave me comfort. They all walked around in tight groups, occasionally joining and merging, all engrossed in their own affairs. That's not quite correct- the girls stole glances at me and the guys openly stared. But this was not like Maryland, and I have nothing to feel guilt for. I have found my place in the world, and they'd better bloody accept that. I glanced up at the clear sky, smiling at the slither of a moon that remained directly above. I am strong, and I could run to catch the ripe moon. I don't think I've ever been unconfident before, but I've never been so aware of this confidence. The office was air conditioned even at this time in the morning and the secretary was wearing a ridiculously thick coat. Mental note- never take a job as a secretary.

She looked up. "You must be the new girl-" she looked down at the form sitting in front of her. "Vivian Gandillon. From Maryland?" she asked as she passed me the form. I nodded. The form was just general information- Name, Age, Previous Schooling, Ethnicity, Title and Subject Choices. It was the first time I'd even thought about it, but eventually I ticked in Art, Sculpture, Photography, French, English, Economics, General Science, Mathes and something called Ethics. The secretary, who'd happily gossiped as I filled out the form informed me that her husband was a complete ass before taking the form off me and logging information into her computer. I hadn't been listening to a word she said, and I frowned. "Well after the way he's treated you, I've got one word. Divorce. You deserve better," I told her firmly, bluffing since I have absolutely no idea why her husbands an ass. She looked up from the typing. "You think so? You're a honey. Tell me, would you ever divorce?" she asked and smiled as I thought about those ice blue eyes… "Noo, but you aren't me." I pointed out and she nodded before turning back to the screen and logging in the rest of the details.

Then she looked at me. "It'll take about twenty minutes to log in all your information and make you a schedule… coffee?" she asked and I grinned, never the one to turn down caffeine. Not that I needed it- my nerves were fizzing pleasantly in a way that coffee can never induce. She pushed back from her desk on the roller chair and pumped the grinder several times before tipping the coffee straight out. She noticed my surprised face. "Trust me, to stand all the bitchy teachers around here who think that having a PhD is an excuse to give airs you need coffee that can dissolve metal if you leave it in there long enough." I accepted the scalding hot cup with a small smile. "And then when you don't get there reports typed up in time, they come and look down their noses and call me a 'the secretary.' Not the over-bloody-worked guts of this school, the secretary-"

Suddenly a tall male teacher in a white checkered shirt came out and asked "Did you manage to finish those reports for the board?" and her whole face changed into a flourished smile as she passed on a packed manila folder. The instant he stepped out the door she rolled her eyes and the smile dropped. She leant forward conspiritivly. "That's the worst of them. Lazy bum kept me up to two the other week writing reports because he was too misery to tell me in advance that they were due the next day. Jerk." The computer chose that moment to start humming like an angry mosquito, apparently a hint that my schedule was ready. Thank Moon- the woman's life was depressing. She pulled a long oblong square of card from the printer. "Here's your schedule. Come back if you ever wanna chat and more acid coffee," she said quickly before turning back to the computer. I turned slowly and walked out the door, one million miles from anything remotely relaxed. I was so strung I would snap with the slightest pressure.

At least my first class promised to be a good one- Art. And at least finding the Art block was easy- it was the only blocked covered in bright garish montages that dated back almost a decade. The grounds were entirely silent as I crossed the inner courtyard, and at least now I didn't see glimpses of the people who betrayed my trust in every figure and face. The art room as a frantic area where you had to weave in and out to avoid being photographed, paint splattered and walking headfirst into some piece of artwork being carried quickly through the halls. In this bright environment I wasn't even noticed until I was standing at the front of the class, trying to get the teachers attention. Then suddenly everybody noticed, and everybody wanted to get a look at the new girl. Surprised by the sudden lull of activity the teacher, a stocky lady with hair that seemed to have almost exploded from her skull but a cheeky smile turned to me.

"Who are you?" she asked and when I told her she looked around the class. "Everyone, this is Vivian Gandillon. Vivian Gandillon, this is the biggest bunch of slackers in the school. Now you're introduced, get back to work," she said and I was surprised with people actually did snap to. Then she turned back to me. "I'm Gwen. If you ever call me Mrs Rivetti, I will get you to recite ever American president in chronological order. What sort of art do you do?" she skipped so quickly from friendliness to threats and then to questions it took me a moment to answer "Sketching, painting mainly." She nodded and grabbed me a A4 sketch book and a box of graphite pencils. "Go draw something. Go on- scat!" she told me with the wave of a hand and I scatted… right out of the art room and almost to the gate before I steadied myself and found a grove of native trees that overlooked the field but were mainly out of sight.

I searched the images sharp in my memory- images of the back as they ran on our first night together in Vermont, Aunt Persia's aged face and Ospreys acetic one. The vicious slashes of blood on earth, the tang of betrayal. The blank walls of my apartment, and my own face in the mirror, so foreign I don't really recognize it. Gabriel's face as he looks at me, his sleek yet disturbingly powerful for, sliding smoothly through the trees and the ease which he brings down the prey at hand. Esmé's face when she thinks of Thomas. Astrid's curdled in rage. Aiden's contorted in terror. All blend in my mind and I draw the only thing I know as true. I'm still sketching as the second bell rings and students swarm around for their next classes, but I'm too engrossed in my work to really care. I was at school, wasn't I? After perfecting the bare bones I drew in the detail, pulling in texture, sensation and long, lingering shadows. By the time the second bell had rung- the interval bell- I had finished. Carefully closing the book around this image I headed back for the now deserted rooms.

Well, deserted but for one girl who unlike the rest of the school was dressed in black combat boots, jeans and leather jacket. She was sitting on a desk, curled between the heat duct and the sink with a book carefully propped open between slender fingers. She looked up at me, as though to analyze me for a moment before she pointed to the box I was meant to but the sketch book. When I did so, she pointed to the door. I laughed and sat on the desk across the room. She wasn't going to get rid of me so easily. She didn't try. She just rolled her eyes and went back to her book. I chewed a nail and contemplated the bare expanses of walls in our apartment until students began to stream back in and the next lesson began.

As at Maryland, the student population, male and female ignored me. But instead of caring about opinion as at Maryland, I actually enjoyed being left to my own devices, without being expected to please anybody. It was quite refreshing after everybody in the pack looking to me to see that everybody and everything arrived in Vermont as planned. Sculpture was interesting at least… I was given a book to read and a sheaf of papers and told to look as though I was reading them carefully before coming back and being given a 30cm by 30cm chunk of limestone to do anything I wanted with. Economics was the biggest bore of the century, all bout owner's equity, assets and liabilities. If you had what you needed to survive, a bit of land, your family and friends, why the hell would you constantly need to get more and more money? When I muttered as much the teacher reprimanded me that everyone should fight to improve their standard of living, and I told her I was perfectly satisfied with my 'standard'.

At this point dead silence dropped over the entire class and the teacher looked as though he was going to have a coronary. Suddenly he changed the angle of attack. "Oh really? Your standard being making out with a man on a motorbike on your first day?" he pointed out mildly and I put on my sweetest smile. "Well yes, actually. The only reason you think you need to improve your standard of living is because you're not getting any of that. When you do, I think we'll reopen this topic for discussion." It was rude, it was crude, and it felt damm good to say. What could the guy do? He backed down, pretending nothing had happened, explaining more accounting jargon that seemed to have no root in the real world. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a ghost of a smirk on the girl in black from the art room. So at lunchtime, I was more than happy to escape to the only place I feel comfortable in this crowded high school; the art room. I hadn't managed to eat today, so I felt the chunk of elk meat from last nights run settling in my stomach painfully. Putting it out of my mind, I pulled open the door to find combat boot girl had beaten me to it and was sitting back in her place under the heating duct with book in hand as though she'd never left.

She looked up at me, emotionless features flicking into some grimace before it relaxed. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" she asked, and I was surprised to hear that her voice was not the rugged tone I'd expected, but so soft it seemed to wash over you before fading like the faint vapor off liquid nitrogen. I rummaged through the box for my sketch book and flicked through the pages, settling back onto my desk. "Nope. Don't you?" I said politely, but she just rolled her eyes and went back to her book. For the first time when I started to trace a general outline of the pack, it didn't feel right. Impulsively I rubbed it out and softly penciled in the harsh lines of the girls face, pensive and guarded. It is so easy to draw when you're subject is in front of you, instead of from your mind. Her eyes were wide and spread far on her face, her skin was extremely white as though sun deprived and her black hair pulled firmly back into a horse tail so tight that pulled at her features. She didn't look like anyone from Maryland, or in fact anybody I've ever seen before. Lunch came to a close and I slid off my desk, holding my sketch book for a moment over the box before folding it into my arms.

Next class; photography. I'd expected to be given a camera and told to aim and shoot, but instead the teacher politely told me that it'd be a while before I was allowed to go anywhere near a multiple thousand dollar piece of equipment and passed me more books. I was leaning on the outside of the white stucco science block flicking though them as I thought about Lucien and Finns mysterious disappearances when there was a chorus of lilting howls rose in the direction of the field. Stupid jocks? I wish. The five were an image of black Sabbath in leather and tattoos they'd donned in protest, and Gregory's face was still turned to the sky in a howl when I ran across the ground. Realizing the company he looked down and turned a brilliant crimson. "Vivie, we didn't realize-" "Didn't West Virginia teach you anything?" I demanded, my fury showing. "This could be the last chance we have of peace, and you jeopardize that for thrills!!" I was aware I my voice was breaking to the point of screaming, and that the five were backing away, lacking the guts to face the repercussions of their actions.

"Sorry Vivie," Ulf muttered, scuffing his boot to the dirt, looking truly ashamed. I suppose it was now that it struck me- the 'five' was now actually only three. I sighed. "Axel paid the price for his actions. So did Rafe. Finn mysteriously vanishes, and instead of doing something useful to find him, you start howling in the school field." I rubbed my temples. Were these males truly my age mates? Willem took a step towards me at these words, face looking thunderous, something I've never seen before. "How can we do anything Viv? We're at school. Pretty hard to do anything constructive here." He pointed out, almost sadly. Everything aside, Finn was his twin, and that's got to be some special sort of bond. I gritted my teeth. "You think you have a problem? I'm the queen of this pack, and I'm at school." I pointed out, not really thinking- my mind was turning over another idea.

"So you're all out here why… because you're making a statement of rebellion?" I asked rhetorically and they all looked a little uncomfortable. If Axel was here, he would have said something charismatic. If Rafe was here he would have said something vulgar. And if Finn was here, he would have argued with me just for the sake of fighting. But the meekest, most sensible of the five were all that was left, and there was light at the end of a very long tube that they may actually rise above expectations and make something more than floor rugs in their lives was suddenly possible. "Ever think that getting a job… like a professional job that would get you out of here and get you cash?" I asked and there was silence. Always a good sign. "Any of you guys interested in mechanics and engineering?" I asked, knowing damm well that it was the only thing they'd collectively managed to actually pass in their sparse education. Gregory fiddled with the sleeve of his leather jacket, flinky face meeting me eye for eye. "What's the deal?"

I sighed, knowing I was opening a can of worms and saying it anyway. "if you guys get an apprentice at the local garage you'd have something you like doing, cash, a job and you'd be able to leave school before you're sixteen and six months." Ulf just looked at me, but Willem looked interested. "How do we sign up?" I could have jumped for joy.

The final class for the day and I was ready to slump over on the desk I a combination of exhaustion and boredom. So when I took a seat in my history class, I was surprised to find it the fullest class in the school, and the students were actually alert- something I never thought possible for last class. When the teacher- a man about my height, with a goatee and tie covered in Bart Simpson- walked in everybody actually stood up and started talking to him as though he was one of them. A slightly overweight girl who'd snubbed me this morning asked him how 'Sophie' was and one of the guys did some unusual intricate handshake with him. It didn't take me long into the lesson to work out why. He might be teaching history, but he managed to relate things that happened 1000 years ago to every aspect of our lives, and making a fool out of himself and everybody else… not insensitively, just hilariously. Somehow the topic got turned to deception. He nodded wisely. "Ever heard of the Trojan horse? That was how the Agamemnon's army managed to get into the fortified city of Troy. Made it look as though they'd all left, and gave a giant wooden horse structure of a horse to them as a gift. Well, the king brought it into the gates in celebration, not realizing that Agamemnon's best warriors were inside. Presto- the city of troy falls in a single night after seven years of hard warfare over the most beautiful woman in the world."

For some reason his words captivated me. Deception. Deception. The man smiled. "But people don't always need to use Trojan horses for deception. The key to Napoleons fame and support was though propaganda against his enemies and legends of his battles. He was thirty three when he decided he wanted to rule France, right? Well, if you look at this picture-" he held up a painting in a book of a short man looking stubbornly at a crowd of men with his hand spread in the universal 'stop' sign. "-you'd think that he bravely took over a weak and crumbling regime?" everybody nodded, and I was with them. He snapped the book closed. "Wrong. This painting is a deception specially commissioned and designed to make the people think of him a heroic savior. In reality he had to be practially bullied into entering the room and Napoleon actually fainted as he went in to face the third coalition, and only his quick witted brother Lucien saved the day." I frowned. He seemed to look right at me when he smiled slyly. "Deception. The art of making your adversary overlook the obvious and believe the impossible." I left that class thinking hard.

I was still thinking hard and absently chewing my lower lip when I stepped out of the school courtyard with my plastic bag of homework. Gabriel was leaning against the huge Harly with almost cat grace, black sunglasses over his half lidded eyes, the olive tee stretched across his chest as he seemed to observe absolutely everything while being half asleep. Deception. Deception. I smiled slightly, at him, my mind turning over the possibility's. Deception. The art of making your adversary overlook the obvious and believe the impossible. Why did that strike so many alarm bells in my mind? I suppose, if events as different as the Trojan War and Napoleon could both involved deception it was a fair bet it happens else where. Deception was the five killing a second girl while Axel was in jail, and therefore convincing the judge it must be a loose wild animal. Deception was Astrid and Rafe trying and damm well nearly framing me… "Deep thoughts?" Gabriel asked and I looked at him in surprise. "Uh, yeah." I told him before going back to considering.

When Astrid tried to frame me, it was so convincing I believed I really was going out of control. If Astrid, who wasn't the sharpest chopstick in the draw could do that, what was to say that a truly intelligent person couldn't blindside us all. Lucien's fur had been all over that place, but then he'd vanished across a river. Finn disappears with a line of ammonium. What if… what if it actually isn't a coincidence? "It just isn't possible for Lucien to have done anything to Finn," I thought out loud and I could feel Gabriel's eyes burn into me, but he didn't disrupt my thought process. "Infact, the only reason we thought that Lucien was the one who savaged Ross was because his fur was at the scene…" I felt like hitting my head against a wall. What was I missing?! "Fur, ammonium, river…" I frowned. "Gabe, what sort of products have ammonium in them?" I asked and he listed them off on his fingers.

"Small amounts in Menthes, pesticides, Insecticides, petrol, raw gas in decomposing matter…" If I leave motive out for a moment, Finn never listened enough in science to know how to separate the chemicals in menthes, pesticides, insecticides and petrol, and he'd have no idea how to trap gas from decomposing matter. Lucien? Lucien couldn't even tie his own shoelaces that night, led alone be able to pull off this kind of stunt. Okay, so neither of them could have pulled off the ammonium… that means there have to be outside influences here. I leant against the brick wall and gently tapped my forehead. If Lucien couldn't tie his shoelaces at that time, how on earth could he have been able to run from Ross to the river so quick? He would have been running head first into trees, not able to tell earth from sky. You see, the amount of alcohol a human body can take is way more than our woven forms can take. A mildly wasted person will be a fully zonked 'wolf'. And then I saw it. This was all too neat, and framed with impossible things that we relied on. I looked up at Gabriel's face.

"What if I told you that Lucien didn't try to kill Ross?" I asked and he looked thoughtful. "I'd tell you to get on the bike and elaborate," he rumbled. Rolling reasonably slowly (and by that I mean slow for Gabriel, which is not exactly a measure of the normal person with a normal speed-to-brain-analysis-capability) I leant my head against his shoulder, looking up into the azure sky. "Is there anything else, anything else but the fact that he found Lucien's hair at the scene to suggest it was him?" I asked and he shook his head. "Well, besides the fact that his son is dead and he's always made it clear he thinks I should break the human flesh ban. But nothing that's physically concrete." I nodded. "Let's take this apart. Lucien was so drunk he wouldn't have known a pig from an elephant. Finn and Lucien have no knowledge on how to harvest ammonium. There is no way that Lucien could have done that to Ross, and no way that Finn could've gotten that 'lost'. Gabriel, I think this is a deception." At this he actually stalled the engine and pulled onto the road side to turn and look at me, his eyes serious. "A deception?" he asked, his voice soft, dangerous.

"Something my History teacher said today; Deception. The art of making your adversary overlook the obvious and believe the impossible…We've been accepting the impossible- that Lucien actually attacked Ross because somebody has planned it that way. Now that I think about it, Ross has been in the bush for the past week, and he gave a map of his locations and times in to the local Ranger. If somebody could get a hold of that, make sure Lucien gets ultra drunk and consequently stupid the night when Ross is closest to our hotels, cut some of Lucien's fur off and cover himself in ammonium and attack Ross before scattering the fur around it would be perfect." Gabriel looked thoughtful "I like it, but what about Lucian's track through the crime scene? What about the fact that ammonium blocks out all other smells? What about Finn?" I put my hands up for him to stop. "For the first, did Lucien's track smell fresh to you?" I asked and he frowned and slowly shook his head, eyes widening.

I smiled victoriously. "I'm presuming that if this person is smart enough to pull off everything else, he'll be smart enough to make sure Ross gets savaged on the track that Lucien took during his afternoon moping walk." Okay, I admit I was getting a little stretched here, but it fitted. "As for the ammonium, it actually only blocks out our scent completely if it's really strong. If it's dilute, surely it'd just act as a cover." Gabriel cursed furiously, looking distant as though already feeling this traitor's neck in his jaws. "and finally, Finn? To be honest I haven't got a clue… but thinking of Lucian, he's probably stashed in a boot somewhere, or in a shallow grave covered with ammonium." I said and when I saw Gabriel's eyes they were surprisingly calm. "I have never heard of a person using ammonium for so many things," he observed, his mind adapting to this new idea. I nodded. "Hey, millions of people saw the apple fall, but Newton was the only one to use it and work out gravity."

I put an arm over his shoulders. He looked at me, and I noticed the white scar on his neck prominently. "So what do we do now?" I asked and he sighed. "It must be one of the pack, and if we show Ross a picture of every person in the pack (last recorded figure… 39) we run the risk of him forgetting the face and that would be universally bad. So for now, we watch and we wait. Let the person get a false sense of security. Wait of Ross to be able to identify the person, or catch them in the act." He said, and I could tell it was killing him. Gabriel is a 'proactive' person and when he's left on the sidelines waiting…

He turned back and restarted the bike, taking off so hard I almost stayed back on the side of the road. As it was, Gabriel's frustration was vented into the bike, and I was left folding my arms tightly around his waist and holding on for dear life as we sailed through the country highways and rolled into corners. When you're going so fast, things seem to get hyper colorful, and your sight almost seems to slow down as you survey the land around you. Your blood pumps fast and some part of you gets ready to go up in a puff of smoke if there is so much as a big stone on the road. But beside that, it makes you feel as though somehow the fabric of the world is thinner, and if you keep going faster and faster you'll eventually wear through. I lifted my head above his shoulder and my hair flew horizontally. There is this feeling in the base of my stomach, the feeling you get from a long hunt under the moonlight- pure adrenaline.

Which is why when Gabriel slammed on the brakes, burning rubber for a good twenty meters and driving me so hard into his back I'd thought we'd merged I was surprised. "Sweet moon, what was that for?" I yelled, deafened from the enormous motor noise. He grimly pedaled backwards and standing, snagged something off a branch of a poplar. Thick, ammonium coated loup-garou fur.