"Hey, Rhian, hand me that crescent wrench, would ya?"
"Which pile did it get lost in this time?"
"Not a clue in hell. Try over near the blow-torch."
"And that's…?"
"On the worktable somewhere."
"Right. Cheers."
Rhian was at Shep's junkyard near the outskirts of town, helping him out with his projects as she usually did during the week. Currently, she was being sent on a treasure hunt, however; and she knew it would take her a good while to find that single wrench. The worktable she'd been directed to was virtually non-existent it was so buried in tools, unfinished inventions and metal scraps. With a heavy sigh, the young Fianna raked slender fingers through her long black hair and set about her chore.
"Could you turn the radio on while you're at it?" Shep called from beneath the '77 Chevy pick-up he was fixing up, the Bone Gnawer's exposed legs clad in grease-stained, ripped blue jeans and worn hiking boots.
"Aye. What station?"
"Eh…The X sounds good right about now."
"Right." Absently, Rhian switched on the old radio situated on a dusty shelf and turned the dial until she heard the characteristic alternative rock The X was known for before going back to her first assignment, clanging things about in efforts to find that single tool. She was used to Shep's methods of organization by this point—six months after she'd first met him after stepping off the naval vessel that brought her to New York from Cardiff. The Big Apple wasn't where they'd met, though. Rhian had come to Pittsburgh mainly for its size and majorly Irish/Welsh population. To her, it was just an Americanized version of Cardiff. She found the caern in Schenley Park with little trouble, integrating herself into the diverse cultural background of the Three River's Sept.
Finding the wrench, however, seemed to take much longer.
Finally, near the very bottom of a pile of tools at the rear of the table, her hand closed about the desired crescent wrench. She immediately took it over to Shep and placed it in the big hand he extended from beneath the truck at her approach.
"Thanks," he said lightly, shifting a bit on the cement.
"Whatever happened to that tool-chest idea you had?" the young woman commented, crossing her toned arms over her over-sized Stone Temple Pilots: No. 4 tee-shirt, the sleeves rolled up atop her shoulders. "You know, the one that would have plenty of accommodation for a thousand tools and then some?" She cocked her head to the side and put all her weight on one hip. Her Welsh lilt had that condescending playfulness to it that Shep couldn't help but chuckle at.
"It's on the back-burner. Customers come first. You know that."
"Aye, I do, but it would make things so much simpler. And maybe things would actually get done on time for once."
Shep let out a single bark of laughter, his voice rumbling, "Very true. Right. Once this gets done, remind me, and we'll get to work on it." He then set about singing along with the Creed song that suddenly popped on the radio as he tinkered away.
Rhian smiled and shook her head. The Chevy was nowhere near being done. It needed a complete overhaul and would take the other Garou at least until the end of the week to finish to his liking. His father was a Glasswalker, and it really showed no matter how hard Shep tried to suppress it. The odd-looking glove on his one hand was a dead give-away to those who knew what to look for.
Suddenly, the mobile phone hooked to her studded belt began to ring off the tune to 'Spectacular, Spectacular'. With a sigh, she snatched it up and put it to her ear.
"'Lo?" she began, plugging her other ear to block out the sounds of the radio and Shep's clanging as she walked off deeper into the junkyard.
"Rhi, it's me. Have you got a moment?"
"Gareth?" Rhian's voice sounded relatively excited to hear that of the Kinfolk—one of her good friends still back in Wales. "What's going on, man?"
"Nothing much really. You remember those Earth's Banes? That gang comprised of just Black Spirals that chased you onto the boat?"
The Fianna rolled her eyes. "Fuckin' hell, Gareth, how could I forget? What of them?"
"They're growing in number. Dai just came back about an hour ago from scouting out the territory we'd stolen from them. He spotted a group of about five hanging about the local off-licence."
"They didn't see him, did they?"
"We don't think so, like. He's still in one piece and hale if not a trifle shaken. The lads are getting sick of having to deal with the bastards, Rhi. We don't have the funds to keep up our supply of silver bullets."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"I was hoping you could tell me."
"Gareth, we're up to our necks in Snake shit about here, and you think I can tell you how to get rid of a handful of BSDs across the pond? I know matters grow more dire by the day, but we've spread ourselves thin enough as it is."
"It's just a matter of telling, Rhian. Not coming over here to deal with it head-on." She could just tell by the sound of his voice that he was rolling his eyes.
"I'm meaning that my brain is burnt out, Gareth. The best I can do is tell you to do your utmost to get your hands on anything silver you can make bullets from. That's the extent of my capabilities at present."
"Understood…but you're the Garou. Where do they keep coming from?"
"The Black Spiral Labyrinth, of course."
"But where around here? Cymru is practically devoid of Garou, Rhian."
The young woman paused. He was right. What Garou there actually were in Wales were few and far between, most going to the cities in England to combat the Wyrm where it was at its worst. That, apparently, had left the entire country vulnerable. The sudden influx of Black Spiral Dancers, however, was unexplainable. Surely, what Garou there were in the British Isles wouldn't all be so mentally weak to fall for such dark insanities. If it was really as bad as Gareth was saying, there was something seriously wrong going on back home.
"I couldn't honestly tell you, Gareth," she said finally, truthfully. "Just mind yourself. BSDs don't just go after other Garou to join their ranks. Kinfolk are just as wanted by them. If matters there worsen, I'll be on the first plane back. Until then, though, I'm needed here to help deal with a Leech epidemic."
"'Course," he replied, sounding almost glum. "I'll let the rest of The Metallers know then. The other gangs in this city may fall, but we won't go down easily. I promise you that, Rhi."
Rhian couldn't help but smile. The Metallers were her own gang back home that Gareth was in charge of until her return. Thus far, they were the only ones able to really stand up to the Earth's Banes without running in terror…just because they knew things that other humans didn't. The Fianna and her Kinfolk friend had made certain of that, deviously leaving out as many of the details as was possible.
"I know, man," she said. "And I'll do my best to get all this resolved as quickly as I can. I can't be in two places at once—even with the aid of the Umbra. I should get going, though. Shep's probably wondering where I buggered off to."
Gareth chuckled. "Right. You take care of yourself, then, like. I'll talk to you later."
"You, too. Ta-ra." She pulled the phone away from her ear and shut it off. Spreading her fingertips over her finely-arched black eyebrows and down the sides of her face in a gesture of agitation, she made her way back to where Shep was now standing, rummaging through his piles of tools and junk for something else that he needed.
"What happened?" he asked, his high brow furrowing when he saw the serious expression on her pretty face. "Who was on the phone?" He set down whatever he was holding and wiped his greasy fingers off on his already filthy white undershirt. He looked much younger and fitter than any man his age—fifty-four—should have been. From any mundane being's viewpoint, he actually couldn't have appeared any older than forty. It was an uncommon trait even for Garou who could outlive the oldest humans given the right circumstances.
His wavy hair was a deep chestnut streaked with hints of grey along the temples, and he kept it cut close about his ears. His face was chiselled and angular, gaining laugh-lines at the corners of his hazel eyes and a few running across his forehead and around his full-lipped mouth. He flexed the hand contained in the black glove on his right hand, the muscles in his forearm rippling a bit with the action.
Rhian shrugged as she came nearer to him. He was much taller than she, though most people tended to be. She wasn't even average, but Shep was easily close upon seven feet tall.
"It was Gareth," she stated, her voice emotionless. "Cardiff's got a bigger BSD problem than ever, it seems."
"Those Earth's Banes you told me about before?"
"Aye, them."
"I thought you got rid of them all…or at least most. What did he say they were doing?"
She shrugged again. "He's still not entirely sure, but he says there are more of them, now, then there ever were. We can't figure out where they all came from."
Shep let loose a low, dry chuckle. "You'd be surprised. They're BSDs. They can come out of anywhere…and usually where you least expect them to. They're minions of the Wyrm, and he continues to grow stronger even as we speak." He began to go back to his work, paused, and looked back at her over his shoulder.
"You're not planning on going back now are you?"
Rhian shook her head vigorously. "No. My gang can take care of themselves for the time being—I know them. Besides, I've got things anchoring me down here too heavily at the moment. Our lovely vampire friends for starters."
"Any one in particular?" His mouth curled into a wry smile, causing Rhian to blush furiously.
It was an odd situation, really. Odd and downright insane, but Shep and Rhian had landed themselves in the thick of it, both unintentionally. The vampire in question was named Simon Pierce—or 'Nice Guy Sy' to his friends—who had been like a son to Shep for years while the two of them had still lived in New York City. Five years ago, though, Sy and his late girlfriend got into an unfortunate car accident when the twenty-four-year-old man had swerved to avoid a man that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the highway. Rachel, his girlfriend, didn't make it through that harrowing experience, and Sy…Sy found himself in a whole new ballgame. Embraced and very much alone. The man who'd caused the accident turned out to be a Setite who was only known by his surname: Robertson. Simon had refused to say any more on the matter to Shep, and that had been all of five years ago.
Since then, Shep had come to Pittsburgh just for a change of scenery, Sy staying in the Big Apple to carry out his heroine and illegal arms ring while doing a bit of unwilling underling work for his sire on the side. Sickened by the thoughts of his slowly receding humanity, the young man had come in search of Shep, meeting Rhian in the process. And Rhian—poor Rhian—had never seen or met a vampire in her life until that point. She didn't even realize that Sy was corrupted so until after a very interesting morning of fever while sweating blood. Shep quickly informed her that leeches only had one body fluid and that it was one that Garou just couldn't tolerate under any circumstances.
"He'd come if I asked him to," she replied. "You should know that just as well as me. No, it's the others that I'm referring to. The Serpents of the Light…at least, that's the group my pack's investigations have brought into the open."
"Walks-in-Darkness!"
Rhian and Shep both spun at the new voice. There, running toward them from the junkyard entrance, was Tuuli, her hair streaming behind her and her feet as bare as always.
"What is it?" Rhian answered, shielding her eyes from the sudden sunlight as it peeked out from behind the thick matting of clouds above.
"Shadow Wind told me to come and find youse. Another came—a wolfie lady with an attitude. Rose-of-Thorns is her name."
The Fianna regarded Tuuli oddly, her head cocked to the side and one eyebrow raised. "What has that to do with me?"
"She wants to help you kill the vampies!" The child-like Corax giggled and poised herself on one foot, slowly teetering from side to side with her arms spread out.
Rhian let out a single, amused breath that was supposed to pass for a bit of a laugh. "She'll have to wait a bit, then. We haven't finished investigating the situation."
"Doesn't matter," Tuuli replied with a smile and a shrug. "All the vampies are supposed to die. That's what the wolfie Litany says, anyway."
"'Combating' isn't the same as killing."
Shep immediately cleared his throat, making Rhian start and look at him. He shook his head with a stern look on his face. Only three knew about her and Sy, and the Bone Gnawer planned on keeping it that way for the sake of the two souls he cared about most…regardless. Due to it all, though, Rhian's devious mind had already begun bending the literal meanings of the Garou Litany to suit her lifestyle.
"Whatever," Tuuli replied indifferently, dropping her leg and arms. "All I was supposed to do was tell youse. Well, I's done that. Bye!" With that, she hopped up into the air, shifted, and flew off high into the sky, escaping the heat and metallic odor of the gravelled junkyard.
Rhian just stared after her for a while as Shep turned to go about his work on the Chevy once more, prying open the hood of the brownish, rusty old pick-up to fiddle around with the still fine engine underneath. He started humming Queen's 'Who Wants to Live Forever?' for no apparent reason.
"Well, that's one more person for me to be cautious around," the young Garou muttered.
"Who?" Shep asked, breaking the melody.
"This 'Rose-of-Thorns'. Who do you think she is?"
The man chuckled. "With a name like that and from what Tuuli said about the 'attitude', I wouldn't be expecting any less than a female Get, a Fianna or a Fury. Pure and simple. But, you're right. I'd be minding my words and actions if I were you. Not just around the newcomer, either. In case you've forgotten, the caern just welcomed that whole Strider pack a few weeks ago."
"I stay away from them as it is." She finally pulled her gaze from the azure sky filled with cottony white clouds and regarded her good friend. Even after these six short months, he was like the father she'd lost. He looked out for her at every turn and supported her every step of the way despite her sometimes rash decisions and the fact that her sole love interest was a leech. She had to smile at that. People like that in her life were rare to nonexistent.
"You can't hide forever, Rhian. I know the whole problem amidst the Sept gives you an easier chance to keep your goings on safe from the prying eyes of the others, but suspicions arise from such things. Carter has already asked me about you."
Rhian's eyes snapped open wider as her entire body stiffened. Of all the Garou in the Sept, she loathed Carter the most…for reasons she couldn't quite place. From the very beginning, there was some unspoken animosity between them, and they avoided interaction as often as possible.
"What did he want to know?"
Shep shrugged. "Just where you were at that particular time. I think he may have wanted to talk to you about something. It was a couple of days ago, and I'm sure you'll bump into him on Friday and find out what exactly he was up to."
The Fianna groaned and raked a hand through her hair, clutching onto a clump of it midway back her scalp. Between Carter's tribe, harsh persona and split personalities, she really didn't want to find out what it is he wanted to talk to her about.