Chapter One: Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Author note: This story is the sixty-seventh in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Mali Sniperist".
Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin.
Side note - I had every intention of waiting for Friday to post this, but I've decided instead to start this story on Memorial Day. There will be a posting on Friday as well, but this is not a restart of my weekly updates. I'm still working on building up the backlog again, although I did come up with ideas for this year's Halloween/Christmas.
Full Blurb: What does it mean to trust someone? And can you still believe in that trust after it's been affected by tainted magic? For Greg, the answer's been simple, if devastating; the tainted magic destroyed every bit of legitimate trust his team had in him. Problem is, now that tainted trust is the only thing protecting his teammates from their own instincts. The only way to save them from Morgana's latest trap.
Previously
A feminine shriek pierced Greg's eardrums right before she seized him and hurled him to the ground. He slammed into the pavement and slid, but when he tried to move, his body simply…laid there. And…why did he need to get up…?
"Oh, no, you're not getting off that easy, peasant," a woman snarled.
The world snapped back into focus. Morgana le Fay loomed over him, rage in every line of her face. An otherworldly ball of green fire floated above her hand, throwing the scene into eerie green shadow. Greg fought to tense, fought to move, but his body didn't react.
Ice spread as her magic flowed through him. He felt himself sit up, hands reaching back to brace his position even as his chin rose to hold her eyes, but he wasn't doing it. "The Old Religion will not be denied, little knight," Morgana spat. "I will have my Vengeance on you." She paused, smiling at the horror in his eyes. "But rejoice little knight. I shall not punish you alone."
"No," Greg forced out. "I'm the one you want. Leave them out of this."
"Had you accepted my Judgment, little knight, I would have. I would have." Morgana rose and his body followed suit, a slave to her whims. "But you chose to fight my ruling. And your friends chose to free you from my punishment."
Then her icy power encased his mind and her will pressed in all around him. Numb, he summoned up the 'team sense', delivering his mistress's orders to his vassals. If his soul screamed denial, it mattered not. Not to the mistress who stood next to him, smiling as the magical commands took hold.
He glared as best he could from within the prison of his own body. "I'll never stop fighting," Greg vowed. "And I'll never give up on them."
Morgana laughed and seized his chin. Frozen power blasted through him, draining all the warmth in his body and soul. "You. Are mine!" she hissed.
"Yes, mistress," he replied dully, bowing his head in obeisance. Her will surrounded him; he could do nothing else. Her word was law and he was nothing if not obedient to her.
The mistress paced around him, her power sinking into him until frozen cold was all he could feel. "You are still fighting me."
He opened his mouth to deny it, but emotion slammed through the ice, hatred burning hot. "Always," Greg hissed. He would never stop fighting.
Morgana whirled on him, an icy spear forming in her hands. It flashed through the air, plunging into his chest and through his heart. He heard his friends cry out in objection as he fell backwards. Cold surrounded him and he gasped once before the warmth was gone. He blinked as his body moved, pushing itself up before kneeling again, waiting for her Judgment.
The mistress waved her hand, conjuring a rope. "Order your own to touch this," she commanded.
"Yes, mistress," he replied, relying her orders through the links. His vassals obediently moved forward, gripping the rope. After a moment, his body moved and he reached out himself, grasping the rope in an iron grip. An instant later, magic spun them away.
Now
Helpless rage convulsed in Ed's soul as they landed, all of them falling in a heap as their bodies failed to absorb the shock of impact. He fought to move or speak, but the magical orders clamped around him, stilling his mind before he could even try. The 'team sense' was jammed wide open and shivers were already wracking the Sergeant's body as Morgana's magic flowed from his link to Greg. He could feel her icy cold fingers wrapping around his soul, thrilling in using their loyalty to Greg against them.
Grief joined the rage as Ed saw Greg's body crawl to its feet, hazel eyes blank and his face frozen in an expression of obedient servitude. He knew his friend was dead; no one could survive an ice spear through the heart; and yet Morgana was still using Greg's lifeless body like a puppet, controlling the rest of them through the 'team sense'. The spear itself had vanished when Morgana conjured her Portkey, leaving Greg's clothing unmarked, but the memory was seared into the sniper's mind.
'Get up.'
His own body moved by itself, never surrendering to Ed's control as he stood up. A silent, wordless prod had them moving into a rough line, still unable to fight the Witch's control or even voice their newborn grief. Ed struggled to lift his chin, to mold his expression into one of defiance, but his body refused to obey. Even with his best friend dead, he was still bound to Greg, heart, mind, and soul.
"Fools," Morgana sneered, surveying all of them. "Did you truly believe you could defy the most ancient, most powerful magic that has ever existed?" She gestured and Greg's body paced to her, kneeling and bowing its head in perfect obedience. "The Old Religion always triumphs in the end, little knights. You cannot escape it, no matter how far you run. You have been mine since first my eye fell upon your leader."
The Witch paused, as if to let them speak, but it was a mockery. They couldn't speak, not with Greg's magical orders wrapped around them, stilling all resistance.
Emerald sparkled with laughter and Morgana turned to Greg's kneeling body, smiling, but it was a cold, vicious smile. "What say you, my own?" she purred.
"I say…" A violent shiver, then Ed saw hazel flash, saw his boss's chin rise. "I say go to hell!" Greg snarled, the orders around them shattering. "You can't have them!"
A second ice spear plunged into Greg's chest before any of them could react to their sudden freedom. Just as swiftly, new orders pressed in, stifling their budding cries, but Ed's soul burned with hate. The spears…they weren't meant to kill Greg. They were meant to control him, channeling Morgana's magic directly into his magical core and preventing him from fighting back.
"You spoke truly," the Witch mused. "You swore you never stop fighting me." She stepped forward, cupping Greg's chin as frozen hazel recoiled at her words. "You swore you would never give up on them."
"I'm sorry, mistress." The words were dull, with none of Greg's soul behind them. Puppet words, extracted by a puppeteer with a taste for kidnapping law enforcement.
"Perhaps," Morgana granted, emerald shining brighter. "Let us see how strong your will is, little knight." Power flexed and ice stabbed into them through their links to Greg. It didn't stop, either; Ed longed to cry out as it spread through his veins, leaving frozen misery in its wake. When it struck his magical core, his body collapsed despite the orders keeping it standing and he involuntarily curled in himself, cold wracking him so violently that it almost felt like he was seizing. On and on it went, an endless assault that left him freezing from the inside out.
"What is this, my own?"
Ed lay on his side, still shivering, but only just. That…that was bad, right?
"How…how is this possible?"
How was what possible? He didn't know, he just knew he was cold and tired. Just…just a little rest…sleep…sleep was what he needed…
A sharp slap roused him and he looked up into fury and hate. "You dare," she hissed. "You dare transgress the ancient laws!"
What…what had he done this time…?
"Enough! Tell them to get up!"
The order echoed in his mind and his body obeyed, stumbling in its half frozen state, but rising nonetheless. Deep within, Ed just felt…numb. What more did she want from them? She'd already taken away everything that mattered. Their freedom, their free will. What more could she take?
"You! Peasant! Transform!"
Greg's body obeyed, his form blurring into a gryphon that remained in a subservient posture before the Witch, faithfully awaiting her next command. The gryphon never twitched as Morgana plunged a third ice spear into him, solidifying her control over his mind and magic. She sneered at the horrified onlookers, then gestured casually. A leather collar flew to her grip, with a familiar emblem on the buckle. The red tree on the black banner in the Celtic coat of arms.
Ed tensed in hope; if the 'team sense' was cut off, they would be free. But as Morgana fastened the collar around Greg's neck, the 'team sense' thrummed within them, strong as ever. His form rippled and changed, the wings, the talons, and the great gryphon head vanishing. An African lion stood before them, still in that respectful, watchful posture before his mistress.
Horror redoubled when Morgana turned, throwing an eerie green fireball upwards. It flew upwards gracefully, hurling emerald light into the surroundings around them. An old, weather beaten building was revealed, crowded with cages. None of them looked anywhere near large enough for an African lion, never mind a gryphon. What…what was she going to do to them?
The Witch strolled to one, examining it a moment. She glanced back, vicious glee shining. "Truly, I had not expected this," she remarked, her tone one of airy nonchalance. "But the Goddess provides, as always." Snapping her fingers, she pointed to Greg. "Come to me, my pet."
He padded to her tamely, offering not so much as a snarl of objection as she pointed him into the cage. The big animal entered, turning around as she closed and locked the door, but stood without protest, waiting for her next order.
"Instruct the bald one to move forward," Morgana commanded. Ed hurled invective at her, but it was fruitless; none of it left his mouth as his body woodenly walked forward. She smiled angelically at him, as if she could sense what he longed to tell her. Then her gaze sharpened and she lifted her hands towards him. "Bestia Mutation Corpus Et Animus Non Magica."
White light erupted from between her hands, striking him in the chest; he collapsed as Greg's orders gave way. Tingles ran over his body even as determination flooded his veins and he pushed himself up. He had a chance; he would stop her. Then the first bone gave way and he cried out as he fell forward. Realization dawned, but nothing could stop the magic tearing his body apart.
One last coherent thought made it through his mind before the pain took over. Why does she think I'm an Animagus?
He was aware. Aware of everything he said, every move he made, but he couldn't control himself. Imprisoned inside his mind, Greg Parker wept. The first ice spear had done it; before that, her power had clouded his own awareness to the point that he only vaguely remembered the chain of events, with brighter flashes during those instants when he'd regained a semblance of control.
Not that it had done anything in the long run. Here he was – here they were, his prisoners just as he was Morgana's. If only there was some way to break the 'team sense' itself – then his friends might yet have a chance to escape. But no, there was no way to break it now. Never again could any of them choose the other. He'd feared this – well, perhaps not this exact chain of events – feared what could happen if ever he abused the power the links gave him over his friends. If only the links could tell when the orders were coerced, then they'd be free and they could've fought back.
Another command echoed through the 'team sense' and Greg fought to focus. No, no, no, not Eddie. Please not Eddie…what was she going to do to him? But no matter how hard he fought, it did no good; her magic was too strong for him. The orders remained, holding Ed helpless and motionless as Morgana cast her spell. A spell he knew, a spell etched so deeply into his memory that he knew he'd never, ever forget it.
A gryphon wail of protest escaped and he rammed the cage bars in futile rage. Morgana laughed as her magic rose around him, allowing him control over his actions, but not the 'team sense'. Magic wrapped around Eddie as he collapsed, crying out as the first bone broke. Greg heard every single bone snap in the horrible minute that followed, as his best friend and former team leader was forced through the same nightmare he'd already been through. Protest keened and shrieked, but did not a lick of good as the screams rang out; magic glowed brighter, totally obscuring Ed's form, but Greg forced himself to keep watching. He had done this to Eddie, it was all his fault. The least he could do was witness the end result of what his magic had done to his friend.
The final scream echoed, sounding like a harsh movie bald eagle cry. Hazel widened even before the magic faded. That…that had been a red-tailed hawk screech! And, sure enough, as the light faded, a bird lay on the ground, wings outspread and talons peeking out from behind the splayed red tail feathers. Curiosity surged and Greg cocked his head to the side, inspecting Eddie's new form with interest. The hawk's back was dark, so dark that Greg suspected the feathers were black rather than his own dark brown. To his surprise, the lights around them brightened and turned more white, allowing a better look at the unconscious avian.
"How very interesting," Morgana murmured; Greg lifted his head, fully prepared to hiss angrily – if futilely – in his friend's defense, but the look in emerald eyes stopped him. For a few seconds, the Witch looked just like a young girl, with a child's natural inquisitiveness and awe at the world around her. Funny; he was fully prepared to hate her for what she'd done to his friends, but now… She was human, just like any other subject.
Emotions swirling, Greg looked back at Eddie. In the better light, he could see he'd been right. Ed's feathers were black, though he could see lighter areas where each individual feather ended and another began. The tail feathers, though, those were solidly red; it was almost a brownish red, with a tiny strip of solid black right at their tips. Ed's eyes were closed, but Greg could see the beak fairly well. Unlike his own yellow, hooked beak, the hawk's beak was mostly black, with a small band of yellow right at the nostril area, where the beak joined the head feathers. Greg wasn't sure, but the beak looked even more curved than his own, capable of tearing into prey that tended more towards land than his own seabird preferences.
A tiny screech heralded Ed's return to the land of the living. Awkwardly, the hawk flopped for a few seconds before managing to get his talons under him. Those were more familiar to Greg when they came into sight; aside from being much smaller, they were not much different from his own. The real surprise was when he got a good look at his friend's front. Unlike the black feathers of his back, Ed's hawk form was far more lightly hued on the front. His head was a dark brown rather than black, fading ever lighter towards the very top. His eyes were blue, just like his human form, but his chest… It was more of a tan brown and Greg could see white sprinkled through it. At the top of his legs and in the chest area, Ed had several 'lines' of darker feathers the same hue as his back, giving him a slightly mottled affect.
The hawk cocked his head to the side, inspecting Greg in turn and the lieutenant felt his stomach twist. Intelligence shone in those piercing blue eyes, but it…it wasn't Ed's intelligence. Was this how he had looked right after his first transformation? Intelligent, but wild. A predator interested in only one thing. Fresh meat.
Emerald magic materialized around the hawk and hauled him upwards, drawing a protesting screech as the bird fruitlessly fought to flap his wings and escape. Greg voiced a screech-snarl of his own, then felt his throat lock in place as Morgana's power once again surrounded his mind and wrenched his body away. Helpless, Greg raged inside his head as Ed was forced into a bird cage that wasn't even big enough for him to spread his wings. The Witch locked the cage and turned back to her prisoners with a slim cruel smile. "Who's next?"
Greg slammed himself against her power, everything inside him begging for Someone to intervene, to spare his friends from this…this torture. To be deprived of their human forms, imprisoned as animals, and left in cages that would drive them mad. It was too much, surely it was too much. He had never wanted this for them, for them to be forced through his own trials as he fought to conquer his Animagus form and instincts.
It didn't matter; she had him. And that meant…she had them.
Inside her mind, Jules fought. There had to be a way! Sarge, he didn't want this for them, she knew that. It was so obvious and he was fighting so hard. It wasn't fair that all his struggle was for nothing. Those first few seconds of heart-wrenching betrayal had vanished into pure horror as soon as he yelled for them to run. To be controlled so completely that you could be used against the people you loved best… It was the Imperius in a nutshell and Jules finally understood why the mind-control spell was so feared. But wasn't Sarge supposed to be immune to the Unforgivable? Either he wasn't as immune as they'd thought or something else was going on; it didn't matter anyway.
"Now the female, my own."
"No," Jules managed to force out, the moan stifled by the way her jaw wrenched shut partway through the word; she could feel Sam's renewed struggles against the power holding them all as her body obeyed Sarge's commands and stumbled forward. The brunette negotiator struggled and strained, but her body wouldn't obey. Her mouth wouldn't move. She was helpless. Would she suffer Ed's fate or did the Witch have another plan in mind?
"Jules!" Sam's jaw locked shut even as the shout erupted, but she heard her boyfriend's plea all too clearly.
"How very touching," Morgana sneered. "You wish to spare your mate this pain, young peasant?" A pause, then the Witch waved a hand lazily. "You may speak."
"Let her go," Sam begged. "She hasn't done anything to you, let her go. Take me instead."
No, Sam, no; don't bargain with her.
Morgana considered, then smiled again. Cold and cruel, with no warmth whatsoever. "A truly intriguing proposal, little knight. But I'm afraid your offer is quite…misplaced." Glee shone and the Witch whipped back towards Jules. "All of you are mine now! Bestia Mutation Corpus Et Animus Non Magica!"
The white light struck her and Sarge's orders disappeared, letting Jules fall to the ground. Tingles ran over her body and she knew. It was starting and now…now her days of humanity were over and done. A part of her wanted to weep, but another part realized that now, she really would know what Sarge had been living with ever since McKean. Then her bones began to break and the world dissolved in agony.
Jules! Greg rammed into the bars, voicing a gryphon cry of complete despair. It was all too clear what punishment Morgana had in mind for all of them. First Eddie, now Jules. And there was nothing, nothing that he could do. Even if he managed to break through Morgana's control enough to break the orders on his team, where would they go? For all he knew, they were in the Netherworld again. It didn't look like the Netherworld, but that didn't mean anything. Magic was more than capable of turning a small spot in the Netherworld into an ordinary building, weather beaten and filled to the brim with animal cages.
Aside from her initial cry, Jules didn't scream as the magic broke her body down. He remembered the pain all too well. The feel of bones snapping, the heat that melted the remnants from the inside out. The sensation of muscles and flesh rebuilding itself into something new, alien and familiar all at once. When the light finally faded, Greg stilled in pure shock, gawking at Jules' animal form.
At first blush, she was entirely black, from the top of her head and curved, triangle ears, to the pads of her feet and the tip of her long tail. Whiskers burst from her muzzle, plentiful, long, and fine, and Greg could see the faint outline of her fangs beneath that broad, close-set muzzle. But then she moved, ever so slightly, and the light revealed rosettes, all over her face and body. The black hue of her coat hid them from easy sight, but they were still there. She looked smaller than him, but the gryphon wasn't sure if that was just his impression or not.
Then the jaguar yawned and shifted, rolling to her feet in one smooth motion. Brown eyes so like Jules' opened and focused on Parker; like Eddie, Jules cocked her head to the side in curiosity at the sight of him. Her tail curled and lashed, the light illuminating the rosettes on the appendage as it moved. The big cat's ears flicked, listening to their surroundings, and her nose twitched, inhaling the scents; Greg knew well how startling it was to smell, to be able to catalog virtually everything around you just by scent. It wasn't something he ever talked about, but he'd been in his gryphon form around his team long enough that he could identify each and every one of them by scent alone. Thankfully, he couldn't do that in human form.
Jules snarled indignation as Morgana's emerald magic closed around her, wrenching her sideways and off her feet. The Witch never hesitated as she dragged the newly made jaguar to a nearby cage and hurled her inside. Greg yowled protest; the cage was hardly big enough for Jules to turn around in; but Morgana leered triumphantly and gestured. Her magic rose in his mind, locking him away again. He fought, but she was just too powerful.
The raven turned towards her remaining captives, magic still dancing on her fingertips. "Two down," she purred, casting a pointed, triumphant look at a devastated Sam. "Who shall I chose next?"
Spike wasn't a guy who failed very often. Growing up, his natural intelligence had given him an edge over his classmates. From his earliest days, he'd been fascinated by two things. Technology and things that went boom. As he grew up, he came to realize that as fun as bombs were for him, they had the potential to hurt. The potential to kill. But they still fascinated him, so he decided he needed to find a way to make his fascination less hurtful. He learned everything he could about bombs and then, when he was all done learning about them, he started figuring out how to beat them – and finally found his true calling.
For a bomb tech, failure meant death, either for himself or others, so Spike naturally tended towards not failing. Even years after the fact, he was still haunted by his failures. Especially that bloody land mine that had come so close to robbing him of his best friend. Normally, he could lift his chin proudly and declare that where he had failed, the team had not, but that time… The team hadn't come through; Sarge's half-pint nephew had.
Absently, Spike wondered why that episode had thrust itself forward in his mind, right in the middle of a completely different sort of crisis. Maybe it was because, once again, he had failed and the team had failed, too. Nothing any of them could do to save themselves and no chance of backup, either. Not unless they used a time turner; fat chance of that, though. Too many paradoxes, especially with both Ed and Jules now in animal form.
Abruptly, his body dragged itself forward and Spike frantically tuned back in, just in time to hear the Witch's triumphant cackle as Wordy busted through the orders holding them mute to shout insults. The bomb tech dug deep and forced his own insult out through gritted teeth. "What, can't take us on in a fair fight?"
"Fair's for fools, little knight," Morgana sneered. "And you are the ones who defied my Judgment against your leader."
"What, were we supposed to leave him like that?" Wordy countered, a snarl behind his retort.
"But of course," the raven priestess replied, her voice a dangerous mix of fury and congeniality. "My Mark was on the collar, signifying my Vengeance on one who dared to cross a High Priestess of the Old Religion. A Vengeance you broke. Therefore, you shall share his punishment."
She turned towards him and Spike threw everything he had into trying to move, trying to dodge, trying to do anything, but stand there like a lump. The spell rang out, the light struck him, and Spike felt himself collapse. He had failed and his team would pay the price. Dark eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see what would happen as his body tore itself apart. The tingles running over him grew stronger and his bones followed, breaking themselves one by one. Spike clenched his fists and locked his jaw, refusing to scream as agony built. Heat erupted, turning his bones to liquid and his blood to lava; as his body convulsed, Spike lost the battle not to scream.
Helpless grief draped him like a shroud and Greg couldn't muster the will to cry out or crash against the bars as Spike's sole cry rang out. What was the use, it wasn't like he could really do anything. All he could do was watch as Morgana brutally used his team's unbreakable faith and trust in him against them. He'd promised to never stop fighting, but she had virtually all of his magic under her control. It was a battle he'd fought and lost before; even a Squib-born's magic is effective against no magic at all.
Dull hazel watched in resignation as the light faded, revealing Spike's new form. Four legs, a bushy tail, and pointed canine ears. Big, though, and rounded, almost like twin furry dishes atop a narrow canine head. Spike's coat was mottled, mostly tan, but with plenty of dark streaks on his back, sides, and legs. His rounded, yet pointed ears looked mostly black, but shifted to the dominating tan close to his head; his muzzle was all black, with a stripe of black running between his eyes and up to his ears. The eyes were rounded with black, and his neck had its own wide strip of black until it ran squarely into the white and black patches on his chest.
The canine let out a whine and struggled up on his feet. The tail tucked instinctively, but not before Greg saw that it was all white on the lower half, with a band of black before it turned to tan. Spike's back legs were mostly tan, shifting to white near his paws, though there was a generous patch of mostly black with tan and white spots on his hips. The front legs had more mottling; white dominated and black served as the lines between the white and tan patches. The underbelly fur was almost entirely black, with white accenting the back of Spike's shoulders.
Greg couldn't muster a reaction as Morgana's magic seized hold of the slender, compact canine; he yelped, dark eyes searching frantically for an escape that wasn't there. Funny; he'd been able to peg Eddie as a red-tailed hawk and Jules as a jaguar, but he wasn't sure what Spike was. Obviously a canine, but he didn't look like any wolf or dog that the gryphon had ever seen. Depression and helpless grief drowned out the Witch's taunts as she finished locking up her latest victim and turned to the three left. He'd fought as hard as he could and lost. What point was there in fighting anymore?
If he could have, Lou would've clenched his fists. Why drag it out? They all knew what was coming – why taunt them and tease them with the inevitable hanging over their heads? Of the three human members of Team One left, Lou was slightly further back than his friends, giving him a perfect view of them. Sam was staring at Jules, devastation clear, particularly as the penned jaguar growled and snarled, not a trace of humanity in those feline eyes. Wordy was alternating between Ed and Spike, his expression…broken. His best friend and his magical brother, both torn away with no hope of getting them back.
Lou's eyes drifted to Spike; his teammate's canine form was recovering and finally registering the far too small cage he was trapped in. The multicolored animal began to yelp, objecting to his imprisonment, the sound joining Jules' snarls and Ed's high-pitched screeches.
"Look, just get it over with," Lou blurted, unaware he could speak until the words emerged. "Enough with the gloating, we get it. We crossed you and now you're taking it out of our hides." He managed to shrug, though a discreet attempt to move his feet proved he was far from free.
Morgana's expression was…displeased…to put it mildly. "Well, if that's how you feel," she drawled. A cruel, arch look at Sarge. "Tell him to move forward."
The disguised gryphon didn't even twitch from his position on the ground of his own cage. Dull hazel watched with resignation as the orders took effect, sending Lou stumbling to stand at the fore, forced to center stage for Morgana's latest…entertainment. The less-lethal specialist locked his attention on the Witch's face, refusing to show fear. He lifted his chin proudly as she raised her hands; it might be the end of his humanity, but he would face that end with dignity, like a member of the best group of cops in all of Toronto.
For a fourth time, a white spell erupted and struck its target with laser precision. Like his friends, Lou collapsed, immediately feeling the tingles spreading through him. Determination glowed and he lifted his head, gazing up into Morgana's eyes as bones broke and pain rose to embrace him like a scorned lover. He held the Witch's gaze the entire time, even as heat surrounded him and his body spasmed. As awareness tore itself away, still he held her gaze in utter silence. He didn't even scream.
Greg wished he could close his eyes and shut the spectacle out. Wished he could turn away and pretend he wasn't being used like a ventriloquist's dummy, a puppet pulling other puppets' strings as Morgana savagely turned the 'team sense' into a poor-man's Imperius. But he couldn't; he owed it to his team to witness what his magic was doing to them. To witness the depths of his own betrayal. It was wrong, it was evil, and all he could do was watch.
Lou's defiance was futile, but brave nonetheless, turning Morgana's latest gloat against itself. Considering they didn't have much else left to offer, it wasn't a half-bad effort. Part of Greg wanted to applaud as Lou succeeded in looking Morgana in the eye throughout his transformation; that, too, was a well done bit of defiance. Nothing that could change the outcome, but Parker figured there was probably something eerie about looking into someone's eyes as they changed from human to animal in slow, excruciating pain.
The gryphon lifted his head enough to inspect his constable's new form. Very pointed ears, with none of the roundness he'd seen with Spike. Lou's coat was almost entirely black, with only the white tip of his tail offering variation. But as the small animal breathed, the light struck his sides and Greg caught a shimmer of a different shade. Lou's head looked narrow and compact, a slim muzzle fitting onto an equally slim head, though his tail was more than bushy enough to make up for it.
Dark eyes opened and the lithe animal picked himself up, shaking his coat out as he made it to his feet. Greg's beak almost dropped open. Lou was a fox! Sleek, compact, and almost slender, though he didn't look as skinny as Spike. Intelligent dark eyes glanced around the room and Lou's movements finally revealed that his coat wasn't completely black. Instead, it shimmered, appearing almost silver at times, especially on his facial fur, the shimmery silver bracketing the dark fur of his muzzle, eyes, and ears. The pointed fox ears flexed, taking in the new sounds around him.
Of course, Morgana couldn't let the moment last; the fox yipped in pain as her magic surrounded him, dragging him to another cage; just like the other cages, it was far too small, with scarcely enough room for the animal to lay down, never mind pace or turn around. The Witch was scowling; clearly Lou had ruined her enjoyment in their predicament. Vaguely, Greg hoped that wouldn't mean she would find a new way to torment Sam and Wordy.
Only himself and Wordy. Part of Sam wondered which of them would be taken first; the other part of his soul was still locked on Jules. Begging for her to look at him with her eyes and her soul, not with a jaguar's wild instincts and total lack of anything remotely human. He'd just spent a whole day as a five-year-old oblivious child, treating the best part of his life with disinterest at best and terror at worst. Couldn't they at least have had a couple days to recover from that before Morgana took her revenge?
Cold realization struck him like a sledgehammer to the gut. He'd been De-Aged…with an Old Religion potion. One that had to be cured; it didn't just run out on its own. "You…you're the one who attacked me."
Wordy straightened and Sarge's head came up off his forelimbs. Morgana regarded him a moment, then chuckled lowly. "Oh, very good, little knight." A brief, considering pause. "I was not entirely surprised when Emrys freed you."
"You expected him to," Wordy growled.
The Witch applauded them, hands clapping lightly. "I knew Merlin would not see my true intentions; he has always been so blind when it suits him."
The blond swallowed a groan. "Sarge couldn't leave work until I was cured," he whispered. "And we left, too, so you didn't have to worry about someone else coming along for the ride."
Morgana smiled rather than reply and snapped her fingers. "Come, my own, summon your little sniper to my side."
It was useless to fight, so Sam did just that, fighting wildly inside his mind as Sarge's orders rang and his legs obeyed, sending him stumbling forward. She didn't give him a chance to object, either, as that hated white spell lashed out, hitting him squarely in the chest. Sam curled in on himself as he sank down, panic rising at the thought of losing his mind for the second time in as many days. But panic couldn't save him, nothing could. His arms and legs began to tingle, the sensation spreading rapidly until his whole body was tingling like mad. He tried to summon up his magic, to thrust that alien spell away, but instead he felt the silver power inside of him heave, warmth shooting through him. An involuntary moan forced its way free as his magic embraced the spell, eagerly pulling on it. Bones broke, so swiftly he couldn't tell which had been the first, and heat followed as his magic surged, engulfing everything he was and transforming him from the inside out.
Sam tried to use his magic; Greg felt it surge and saw his constable's eyes turn silver for a split second. It didn't help; if anything, it seemed to speed the process. Power surrounded the struggling man and Greg flinched at the unmistakable snapping of countless bones, followed by that familiar, painful blur of man into animal. Sam collapsed on his side, head facing towards Greg as the light faded. Definitely canine, just like Spike. His muzzle was short, sloping down from his forehead at a gentle angle. Furry triangular ears rose from the animal's head, not as sharp as Lou's, but not as rounded as Spike's either. His coat was a very light tan, almost blond, albeit a darker blond than Sam's hair color. Black shaded his fur in areas, mostly on his back and tail, although his facial fur was a mixture of blond and black. The ears and legs were almost completely blond, though his tail was much darker.
Seconds passed and the animal stirred, whining as he awkwardly pushed himself upright. The head swung around, inspecting the area, and Greg let out a soft keen, deliberately attracting attention. The shapely muzzle came around, giving the gryphon a good look at piercing blue eyes. Sam's eyes, in a wolf's face. He still wasn't sure what type of canine Spike was, but Sam…he wasn't the type of wolf that Greg was used to seeing in the zoo, but he was a wolf. Lean, muscled, and powerful, with jaws capable of breaking bones. The wolf's nose twitched as he picked up Greg's scent; absently, Parker wondered if he smelled more like a cat or a bird.
"Curious, is it not," Morgana purred, her magic wrapping around Sam and dragging him towards her seemingly inexhaustible supply of cages. "Predators, one and all." She sounded almost disappointed by that fact and Greg instinctively bared his fangs, growl-hissing.
Well, this was it. Fini, Finale. Last man standing – literally. Funny; of all the ways Wordy had imagined his end, getting transformed into an animal hadn't even made the list. Just went to show you really never knew how it was gonna end. He flicked a glance at Sarge, wishing he could say good-bye, but his jaw had locked up again as Sam was forced over to Morgana. His body wasn't listening either; the brunet desperately wanted to let his shoulders slump, but they remained as they were, his body standing in a loose at-ease position.
The Witch moved away from Sam, turning to face her final victim. Glee danced in her eyes and instead of having Sarge order him forward, she sashayed close, smiling as she ran a finger over his chest. Even beneath his shirt, his skin crawled at her touch. "Just you and me, little knight," she whispered, reaching up to stroke his chin; he struggled to jerk away, but his body didn't even twitch. Emotion shone in cold emerald and she leaned closer. "Swear undying loyalty to me, little knight, and I will spare you."
"Go to hell." Shelley would've had his head for swearing, but he didn't care. His girls would never know and he wasn't about to betray his team and his family just to save his own skin. Besides, he had a nasty feeling she had ways to enforce such oaths.
Her slap hurled his face sideways before she grabbed his chin and yanked it back. "You shall pay for your defiance, little knight," she hissed. Releasing his chin, she grabbed his wrist, resting her fingers on his mithril healing bracelet. Wordy felt her magic flow into the bracelet, lighting it up as she charged it. Cold surrounded him, stabbing into his magical core and his body in equal measure. He lost track of time as she used her magic to both heal and torture him, sending him into convulsions as the cold bore down on him, lowering his body temperature to truly dangerous levels.
When it was over, he came to in a fetal ball on the ground, his body so cold it couldn't even shiver anymore. Wordy heard the incantation, but he was too cold to care as it struck him. His fingers and toes started to tingle, the effects spreading inwards. Arms and legs, then his core. Wordy felt his core react and a gasp tore itself free as his magical core began to vibrate. It shook and trembled, his body following suit. Pain ripped through him, but his bones refused to give. The spell and his magical core fought, as if the spell was incompatible with what little magic he possessed.
Distantly, he heard a second incantation and felt a new spell hit him. No, not new; Morgana had recast the same spell. Wordy screamed as the two spells united and split his magical core in half, letting out what had never been intended to be let out. Agony engulfed him as the assault on his core sent him into convulsions once more. His brain locked up and Wordy had a fleeting hope that he would just die before the world went black.
Nothing could've prepared him for Wordy's transformation. Despite knowing it was futile, the gryphon hurled himself at the bars once more, screech-roaring objections. Keens rose, unbearable anguish given voice. And yet, he could do nothing. Nothing save witnessing his friend's loss of humanity. Then it got worse as Wordy writhed and screamed, but failed to actually transform. His crippled core, it had to be. He literally couldn't transform, but the spell was still trying to force it.
Morgana shouted, hurling a fresh spell at Wordy and the gryphon's already shrill voice rose another octave as his screeching echoed in the building. Greg collapsed seconds later, struggling to breathe as the 'team sense' thrashed and sent acid flooding through his veins. It took several moments to focus enough to figure out what was wrong, then he sank down in utter grief. Wordy's core had broken apart, cut in twain by the spells trying to force an Animagus transformation their victim wasn't capable of.
Parker was dimly aware of a third spell joining the first two, but he didn't think it would help – unless Morgana just wanted to torture Wordy to death as his body fought to do what his magic couldn't. The 'team sense' roiled within him, anguish, agony, and torment echoing inside his heart and soul. Determination and desperation combined within him, forging one last chance. He had no idea if it would work, but that had never stopped him before.
Greg closed his eyes and reached for the 'team sense', channeling his own magic into it. He could feel Wordy's link pulse as the scarlet power flowed into him, angling directly for the damaged magical core. The scarlet seemed to pause at something, though Greg couldn't quite catch what it was surprised by. He felt the link pulse again, then his magic flared, right along with Wordy's own dark blue.
Power rushed around him and magic glowed brightly around his constable's fallen form. Greg held his breath, praying. The light remained for several seconds, then gave way, revealing the figure beneath.
Wordy's Animagus form…was a horse.