I haven't given up, so yay for that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I have a question to pose;
'Would any one be interested in co-writing a story?'
If interested, leave a review/ pm me. Also, it can be fanfiction/ non-fanfiction, and any genre. I'm hoping it may help with my er, motivational issues :S
Chapter 21; Lycanthrope Venom.
"Luke, we need you to bite this handkerchief."
Lucian Graymark stared at the three Shadowhunters before him, all looking expectant. "Am I allowed to ask why, or would I rather not know?"
Isabelle started, "Well, you see, we've found a way of curi-" Alec stepped on her foot. "Ouch. What was that for?"
Jace took over. "It's probably better you don't ask."
The werewolf ran his eyes over the three teenagers. "You need werewolf venom. For a spell, I presume?"
"Yes.." Jace said warily.
"And Magnus doesn't have any?"
"Does Magnus keep vats of werewolf venom just in case he needs to do some random spell? I don't know, does he Alec?"
Alec shot Jace an irritated look. "Of course not. If he did, we wouldn't need to come here."
"And that is is beauty of a rhetorical question," Jace said, shaking his head. "Luke, can't you just bite it and be done with it?"
A younger werewolf appeared in his office, and tugged on his hand. "Story time, Mr. Luke. Maia's turn tonight."
"Not now Randolph-"
"Yes now, Mr. Luke. Maia said she'll get very cross if everyone's not there by the time she counts to thirty. And Mr. Luke, sometimes she speeds her counting up just to catch us out. She said so herself, Mr. Luke."
"Okay, okay," Luke said, surrendering.
"What?" Jace said impatiently. "Can't you do this one thing first?"
"It isn't as simple as that, Jace," Luke said, and continued firmly, "I'll give you what you want if you stay and listen to Maia tell her story."
"This is urgent-"
"Story-time is very important, Jace Shadowhunter," Randolph said fiercely.
"Oh, for goodness sake, let's just go with it," Alec said, and followed Luke and the werewolf child into a den. Ten other werewolves, ranging from kids to elderly were crowded around Maia. She indicated an empty sofa to them with a gesture.
"Tonight we tell our story of the beginning of our race, werewolves," Maia intoned. "Shadowhunters, and other Downworlder factions, would like to tell us we are ignorant of our origins. But we know better. Stories have been passed down from one mouth to another for centuries. We may have gained several half-truths, and perhaps a few untruths, since the very start but there is truth to be found in every story.
The wolf is a forest-dwelling mammal; one highly adapted to follow its prey over huge distances. It is also famous for its eerie howl, heard from miles away. She can communicate so many things in that howl; mourning or joy. She can even use it to locate her family. And of course, wolves have a complex family structure. The two Alphas, the breeding pair, perhaps a few Betas, and of course the lowly Omega. These names come from the Greek Alphabet, Alpha meaning first and Omega meaning last. The pups are raised in dens, closely protected and watched by many members of the pack.
Werewolves share so many of the same characteristics; we're adept hunters with our incredible speed and strength. No prey could escape our clutches. We howl in our wolf form, talking to the other members of our pack. And we have a social order; Luke, our Alpha, Bat and Hera, our Betas, and well, I won't embarrass our Omega by naming him in front of our guests."
Several of the werewolves hooted, others leered at the Shadowhunters. Luke silenced them with a quelling look.
Maia cleared her throat, and continued, "Perhaps what is different about us is our brutality; our power can be used for evil as well as good. Several here tonight will have met with the teeth of an angry werewolf, and fortunately lived to tell the tale. New, young werewolves find it especially difficult to control themselves, and sometimes lash out at those they love. This is part of the reason why the Praetor Lupus was formed; the Wolf Guard. We wanted young werewolves to be safe from the blades of self-righteous Nephilim.
It is only right that we arose from the forest where our animal counterparts roam. Our ancestry stems from two names; Cressida and Thorn. This is their story:
A young girl, of perhaps eleven years, named Cressida lived in the forest with her mother, Gloria. Both of them stayed in a tiny stone house right in the centre of the woods. It was rudimentary, but both Cressida and Gloria loved it.
As this was a time when wolves and bears survived in greater numbers, Gloria was careful to instruct her daughter in the ways of the forest. Leave after dawn, return before dusk. Don't maintain eye contact with predators. And if all else fails, climb a tree; adult bears are usually too heavy to climb. These golden rules had kept Gloria alive for the nineteen years she'd lived in the forest, and so she felt it was only right to pass them on to Cressida.
Gloria also had to teach Cressida how to fend for herself. She taught Cressida which plants and berries were safe to eat, and which would kill her. Gloria also provided the means by which she could hunt; she crafted her daughter a bow and several arrows, and told her to practice daily.
And that she did. The first time she ever held her bow, Cressida felt awfully clumsy. She had little idea of how to wield it, or how to attach the arrows. She thought of complaining to her mother about the impossibility of the task set before her, but Cressida was a proud girl. She loathed to admit defeat, so she nocked an arrow. It wobbled up and down. She quickly realised there was there was a place in the wood for the arrow to rest. She pulled on the drawstring, and let the arrow fly.
It landed on the ground several feet in front of her. Cressida blew out a sigh of frustration, and nocked another arrow. She aimed for a nearby tree, drawing the string back further this time. The arrow flew wide from its target. Cressida gritted her teeth and tried again.
Just before dusk, she returned home.
"How did it go?" Gloria called from the kitchen.
"Not well, mama. I hit my target only three times. I was pathetic."
Gloria moved into her daughter's bedroom. "Hush now, love. You will not succeed at everything you do with the very first try."
She stroked Cressida's white blond hair gently. She could could see a small pout forming on her daughter's lips, but was glad to see there was steel in her grey eyes.
"I shall do it, mama. I shall be the greatest huntress in this forest; fiercer than the wolf, stronger than the bear and faster than the falcon."
Her mother smiled, and kissed her fair head.
The next day, Cressida went out minutes after dawn, and began her practice. She painted a target on the tree using the juice from berries, and shot arrow after arrow at it. This time, she managed to hit the edge of the target, and after several more attempts, an inner ring. She felt lighter with her success, and allowed herself a celebratory break.
She listened to the sounds of the forest; to the multitude of birds and insects chirping and screeching and singing. She watched two red squirrels squabble over a blackberry. Contentedly, she leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes, moving her face so that she caught the sun's golden rays. The warmth lulled her into a sleep.
The next sound she awoke to was a giant smashing its way through the woods. She was nearly sure that was what it must be, from the incredible noise of it. Frightened, she grabbed her bow and arrow, and scrambled up a tree. Luckily, this was a skill she had acquired long ago. She peeked out of the leaves. She had guessed wrongly. These were not giants, these were just very big, hairy women. No. Men. That is what her mother had called them, though Cressida could not remember having every met one. Her own father had died when she was young; her mother never spoke of what had happened.
Curiously, she gazed at them. They seemed to find it difficult to move through the forest; they did not move with the lightness or grace of Cressida or Gloria. They all had beards and a shaggy growth of hair, except for a smaller one. A boy. He was perhaps only a year or two older than herself, and he looked thin and gangly compared to the huge men around him. His brown hair fell into his eyes every so often, and he irritably swept it aside. Cressida thought he was a very funny boy; he stumbled and fell more times than she thought possible. She had a difficult time restraining her laughter.
As they drew closer, she heard some of there words (goodness, they were hard to hear; they spoke so low):
"-told us there were deer up here. If you ask me-"
"No-one is asking you." This man sneered at the other.
"I don't know why I had to be dragged along," the boy complained, in a slightly higher voice than the men around him.
"Shut up, kid. Your father, his Lordship, asked us to escort you on a hunt. You don't get a say."
The boy grumbled, probably about his father, and they moved out of sight (although she could hear them for a long time afterwards).
She shrugged, and descended the tree again, starting from where she had left off.
Later, when she arrived home again, she told her mother about what she had seen that day:
"There were menfolk moving through the forest earlier, mama. They were awfully amusing; clumsy as newborn fawns! Obviously they don't know the forest as we do." Cressida's neck arched proudly at this. "Isn't that right, mama?" The girl noticed at this point her mother had frozen. "Mama?" she asked, surprised.
Slowly, Gloria spoke, "Did they see you, Cressida?"
Her daughter blinked. "No, mama. Don't worry, they looked fairly harmless."
"Harmless?" He mother cried furiously. "Child, you know nothing of men! Many of them are terrible brutes who'd hurt you without a second though. You are not to leave the house this week, unless I tell you to do so."
Gloria began to pace, her agitation clear.
"But there was a boy with them-"
"The Lord and Lady's boy, no doubt," Gloria interrupted scornfully. "Probably want to ensure the lad is fully instructed in their barbaric ways."
Cressida looked shocked and saddened. "I disagree with you whole-heartedly, mama. I feel you are being very judgemental."
"Don't you think I know better than a child of eleven? Go to your room, Cressida. I must prepare us for the eventuality that they may discover our home."
Cressida fled to her room. She knew her mother only worried for their safety, but she felt strongly that she had seen goodness in the boy that afternoon. And so, when night fell upon the forest, Cressida slung her bow over her shoulder, grabbed a few arrows and climbed out of her window.
Although she had a brave and strong heart, she had also always heeded her mother's Golden Rules. She'd never been into the forest at night. It was like a different world. The night was silent apart from the occasional rustle. All around, she could feel the nervousness of the smaller night animals; mice and rabbits and moles. Every movement one saw could be a predator stalking, ready to burst forward and inflict its killing bite.
Cressida tripped over roots and stones as she followed what she hoped was her regular path through the trees. She regretted making fun of the boy's lack of agility now. She felt helpless in this darkness. It was only her will to prove her mother wrong that kept her from darting back to her home.
A howl sounded. A wolf. Other canine voices joined it in a haunting, melancholy choir. Cressida shivered, but was reassured by the distance of the wolves. Surely she would not encounter them. Still, she attached an arrow to her bow. Whether she would be able to actually hit a wolf it appeared was another matter altogether. It was better than nothing, she supposed.
Cressida paused. She could hear the coursing of a river nearby. Surely that was wrong, she thought. She didn't usually find a river on her daily walks. Stranger still, chanting rose above the rushing of the water,
"Terrenis his daemonum magicam teneant!"
A deep breath.
" Ita constringit, ut non possint respirare arcte circa ea attractione carmine nostro. "
"Tribuere virtutem silva lupus ad eos. Fuse lupus cum homine, usque non possunt distingui. Noster maledictionem in universis filiis iste mittatur!"
Cressida, still but a child, did not hear the malintent in these words. She drew nearer to the comfort of a human presence within the frightening forest. "Hello?" she asked, hushedly.
A blue light hovered in the air, just above the riverbanks. A face turned towards hers, shock written in it. "You cannot be here, child! It is not safe."
"Why?" Cressida inquired, her curiosity peaked. She stepped forward further, squinting at the figure. She could see it was a woman she was talking to, perhaps not much younger than her own mother. She had pretty red hair and blue eyes, and was wearing a dark robe.
"Your mother has not spoken to you of my kind? How unwise," the woman murmured. "She of all people should know better."
"What do you mean?
The woman smiled faintly and removed her robe; she stood in a brown, sleeveless dress. Her arms were covered in scales.
"Are you ill?"
"No, child, I am not. I am a warlock. I perform magic." She let a few sparks fly from her fingers.
Cressida clapped her hands. "I love your magic; it's bright and colourful and good."
The woman looked surprised, and then saddened. "I am not here to do good tonight, sweet girl. I had come to lay a curse."
The little girl's mouth made an O-shape, and looked beyond the warlock. A cage lay on the grass, within it a dead wolf, and to its left was a stone slab that levitated in mid air. Cressida's hand flew to her mouth as she realised who lay sleeping upon the slab; the boy from earlier that day. "Why must you do this?" she whispered. "That boy is innocent, I know it is so."
"I must avenge my fallen sisters," the warlock said, defiance in her eyes.
"But this boy did not hurt them!" Cressida said, determinedly. "He can't have!"
"You are not wrong. It was his father who ordered their execution. And as he destroyed my family, I will ruin his."
Remembering the weapon she had strapped to herself, she aimed an arrow at the warlock,"I order you to free him!"
The woman shook her head. "I can see you trembling, child. You will not shoot the arrow. You do not wish to disappoint your mother. Besides, I intend to return him to his family right now."
"You have laid your spell upon him already," she realised. "What is the nature of this curse?"
"What does it matter to you? It will not affect yours nor your mother's don't you go home? Tell Gloria that she is safe from the Lord's evil ways for now."
"How do you know my mother?"
"We entered an agreement long ago; perhaps eighteen, nineteen years. We, my sisters and I, agreed she and her husband could live under our protection as long as she did not tell the Lord or Lady of our presence, or of our magic."
"What happened to my father?" Cressida said, suddenly fearful.
"He threatened to break our agreement because he suspected us of demon-raising. He said he did not want monsters near his newborn child. He acted as if this forest belonged to your family. When he moved towards the Lord and Lady's castle, we had to intercede or have our lives jeopardised. Unfortunately for us, a stable boy saw us strike him down. The Lord has been hunting us ever since, and my sisters fell prey to his men not long ago. Only I remain, and I have sworn to avenge the deaths of my family."
Cressida was silent, and tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of her father's death. "My father just wanted to protect me!"
"That may be so, but he broke the agreement. The cost of that mistake was death." The warlock then waved a hand at her, blue sparks trailing. "Sleep now, my girl. No more talk of curses and death."
Cressida would not remember the night as anything more than a bad dream.
At the age of eighteen, Cressida had become what she had sworn she would; the most accomplished huntress in all the land. She brought home rabbits, squirrels, pheasants, pigeons and deer. There was not one creature safe from her arrows; even the wolves were wary of her now after she had shot one attempting to make her its prey.
"Mother," she called into the house, her voice lovely as her brilliant white hair. "I am going to find us food. I will bring down a buck that will last us all week, I shall."
Gloria appeared in the doorway. "Not today, Cress. The Lord has arranged a huge hunt to celebrate his son's move into adulthood. They would call you a poacher if they saw you."
"I am not scared of the Lord or his son. I will only remain here for the sake of your nerves."
"Thank you, Cress," he mother murmured, and moved out of the way so Cressida could return to her room.
As soon as her mother was out of sight, Cressida did as she had done seven years ago (although she would not remember it), and climbed out of her window. She did not have to navigate in the dark, this time, and she took more care; she took to the trees to first check there were no horses and dogs nearby. Satisfied, she returned to ground level.
The deer could be anywhere, she supposed. She would first need to find some trace of their presence; a fresh footprint or droppings perhaps. All the while, she kept her eyes open for any trouble.
Unfortunately, it seemed trouble was drawn to her; she could hear the pounding of a horse's hooves coming in her direction. Hurriedly, she moved quietly into the lower branches of the nearest tree. Then she held very still.
A large black stallion came into view, a thoroughly dishevelled rider perched on its back. "That ought to do it, Tal. They'll think I galloped you the whole way to the shores!"
Seeing there were no more riders, and this one seemed to be trying to evade the others, Cressida spoke, "Surely you don't think your beast understands a word you say?"
The young man looked up, startled. "Good God, woman, what are you doing up a tree?"
Something registered with Cressida, at the very back of her mind. "Have we- have we met before?"
Gravely, he replied, "I would certainly remember a beauty like you, if I'd ever met you. Even if you are a little... wild."
Cressida blushed. "You yourself look a little wild. Whom are you fleeing from?"
"My father, Miss-"
"Cressida, my name is Cressida."
"Miss Cressida. Well, my father is the old Lord himself. He wants to hold some grand hunt in my honour, as if it weren't purely for his own pleasure. I told him I was against the idea, but he ignored me. So I am teaching him a lesson."
"You're the Lord's son?" She said, shocked. This was the very man she'd been told to avoid.
"Nicholas Thornsby at your service," he said with a grin. "All who know me call me Thorn, as I am a constant thorn in my father's side."
"I couldn't imagine," Cressida saiddemurely. Carefully, she climbed down to groundlevel, and then eyed Thorn's horse. "Does he bite?"
"Only if you give him cause to. His name is Talisman."
"He's a fine horse," she said, and stroked his gleaming black neck. "I've never ridden a horse before, you know."
"There's a first time for everything," he said, offering her his hand.
Cressida accepted without hesitation, swinging onto the stallion behind Thorn with ease.
"You'll have to hold onto me," Thorn warned. "He moves quite quickly."
Cress, who knew little of etiquette or social norms, and put her hands around Thorn's waist. It seemed to make him jump a little, but neither commented upon it.
Thorn squeezed Talisman's sides, and they leapt forwards into a canter. Talisman darted around trees, leapt small boulders and splashed through shallow rivers. He was an unstoppable force, even with two people upon his back. Cressida laughed from the sheer joy of it. It exhilarated her, as she'd never encountered such fast speeds.
"Most women would have fainted by now," Thorn said, amazed. "But not you; you're loving this, aren't you?"
Cress' reply was another peal of laughter, and a cry of, "Faster, faster!"
They slowed when Talisman grew hot and sweaty, dismounting to allow him to regain his breath. Thorn looked at Cressida, and there was admiration in his eyes. "I have never known someone as brave and as reckless as you, Miss Cressida." And then, on a whim, he continued, "If I were ever to choose to marry a girl, it would be someone like you."
"Well, that is awfully flattering," she said with another blush, "But I daresay your father wouldn't allow you to be wed to a girl like me."
"To hell with him!" Thorn proclaimed, as leant forward to kiss her. It was as his green eyes moved closer to her grey ones that she finally remembered where she had seen him.
She skittered back, her eyes wide. "You're the boy! The one who was cursed by the warlock!"
"What on earth are you talking about?" His voice had grown cold. "My father killed all the witches and warlocks here when I was but a child. I could not have been cursed by one; I have no such memory."
"She erased our memories from that night! But I have seen past her memory-fog spell, and I remember you from that night! Perhaps you recall the dead wolf, or her evil Latin chanting?"
"I am beginning to suspect it is you who is the witch!" Thorn said. "You seem to have so much knowledge of them. You dress like a man, and you have have a bow. Witches are often said to be androgynous, are they not?"
"How dare you!" Cressida spat. "I am trying to warn you, and you make accusations? I should not try to help you at all. In fact, I will not help you again. And just so you know, I think you are a fool! An absolute fool!"
Thorn roared with rage at this, sending Talisman into a half-rear. "Who are you to call me a fool?! I am the son of a lord, you are probably the daughter of a maid! You have no right-"He gasped, and doubled over.
Cressida was still furious, but instinctively she felt concern. "Are you hurt?"
"I do not need the help of a girl like you," He said between gritted teeth. He promptly retched, and groaned in agony. "Stop this at once! I know you are using your magic on me, witch! I'll have your head for this-"
He screamed.
Cressida felt truly anxious now. "I will fetch help, Thorn. I will go on Talisman!" She turned to the black stallion, and at the same time she heard a terrific crack.
"Doooooon't," his voice was like nothing she'd heard. She could only compare it to the growl of a wolf. "Dooon't steeeal my- my hooorse."
Talisman shrieked, and bolted. Every muscle rigid, Cressida turned back to Thorn.
His fingernails had elongated to claws, and his open mouth displayed a set of fangs.
Cressida screamed, and backed away.
"YOU DID THIS, WITCH, I KNOW THIS WAS YOU!" His body tremored as it became more and more wolf-like. "I WILL DESTROOOooooooo-"
The word turned into a whine, and before Cressida was an enormous wolf. It bared its teeth, advancing on her.
She did the only thing she could; she raised her bow. "Don't come any closer, Thorn. If you can still comprehand me, then stay away."
But closer he came. As his teeth clamped on her arm, her arrow loosed from her bow, burying itself in his grey fur.
He yelped and her face contorted. She turned away, clasping her injury. She felt a strangeness come over her, as if a ghost had passed through her body. Pain exploded through her, pain beyond the bite Thorn had delivered. Her body was changing, twisting into a different shape.
She howled as she collapsed on to four legs, white fur rippling alongs her skin. Soon enough two wolves occupied the space that two humans had once. The she-wolf, her transformation complete, turned to the male wolf. He was panting in pain, and was attempting to pull the arrow from his shoulder. Every movement seemed to cause him more and more agony.
The she-wolf took it upon herself to rid him of the arrow; she pressed him to the ground with her weight and dragged it from him. He squirmed beneath her, but stilled as his wound closed over. The only sign he'd ever suffered an injury was a small pink scar.
The she-wolf licked the wound carefully, then moved away from him. Her grey eyes peered into his green. The anger had left him, it seemed. She yipped, and loped away. Follow me, it seemed to say.
They ran through the woods, no longer needing the strength of Talisman to experience incredible swiftness. They chased each other, swerving round obstacles as if they'd never been anything but wolves. If anyone had been watching they would have seen just a grey and white blur. Perhaps they'd think they'd seen only the spirit of a wolf, rather than one in the flesh.
Thorn had been designed years ago as a curse to bring justice upon his family for the warlock, but instead he brought a blessing upon another. Cressida had become all she'd ever desired; the undisputed greatest huntress in the forest; she had the fierceness of her wolf-form which entailed the strength of a bear and made her faster than any falcon.
The Lord and Lady despaired over the son they'd never loved, vowing revenge upon every witch and never saw their son again, and though they burnt many men and women at the stake, they never caught the woman who'd turned their son into a wolf.
Gloria came to realise her one mistake in raising her daughter; she'd never allowed her to be truly free. And so her daughter had revelled in it, almosting forgetting about the existence of her previous life. However, Gloria did see her daughter twice more before her death; once as a wolf, and once as a human, when Cressida and Thorn's son had wandered into Gloria's home, smelling the faint scent of his mother."
The room fell silent as Maia's tale drew to a close. Randoph gazed at her with awe. He'd lapped up every word of her story.
Jace suddenly snorted. "You can't believe that actually happened?"
A roomful of werewolves glared at him; this story was like treasure to them, a bold heritage to be proud of rather than rumours of demonic diseases.
Luke sighed. "I suppose you learnt absolutely nothing from that, then?"
Even Alec looked sceptical, "It was a nice story, but Jace is right. It's too nice."
"Gloria lost her daughter!" A young female werewolf spoke up. "That's not too nice."
"Come on, then. Let's get you three out of here before you start a fight," Luke said, exasperated. "And even you, Jace, can't hope to win against a pack of werewolves."
"Want to bet?" He asked with a smirk, but followed Luke anyway.
They moved into his office, and Luke turned to a safe. He drew a key from around his neck, and opened it. The Shadowhunters watched curiously as he drew a vial from a row of them, and handed it to them.
"Lycanthrope venom, as per your request."
Isabelle took the thin glass tube full of a clear fluid. "Why do you store it like this? Why store it at all?"
"It's an experimental trial; the Praetor want to take the venom from the fangs of young wolves so that if they do lose control and bite someone, they won't turn that person into a wolf."
The Nephilim girl looked bemusedly between the Alpha of the werewolf pack, and the venom. "Alright then. Thanks, I guess."
"Whatever it is you're doing, be careful."
The Shadowhunters exchanged glances, and Alec said slowly, "We'll try.", although he was thinking it would take a lot more than simple carefulness to keep them alive when they ventured into the depths of Hell.
I'm kinda uncertain about this chapter, so tell me what you think,
BlackHeartedTigress xx.