The beast does not control me

Katianna

AN: Ok, so, reading Laurell K. Hamilton's Lunatic Café for the hundredth time, I came across this line and thought about the affect Shalimar's 'Beast' - for want of a better word - has on the way she sees things and reacts to things. I don't like separating the human and beast side of the Feral psyche, because Shalimar seems to merge the two so effortlessly, but still tell me what u think!

PS I have no idea whether or not someone without a ring can hear the voice coming from someone else's ring. It's all guesswork - Don't blame me if I get it all wrong!

PPS I have just watched 'Whose woods these are' and am currently cursing coz the plot line's of that and this are so similar. I assure you this was thought up and mostly written before the episode aired! Maybe the writers have been reading LKH?

PPPS updated 20/11 for Villanelle due to Jesse problems! Thanks for the heads-up!

PPPPS: OK, I'll shut up now

Every night she awoke, refreshed, having slept the day through, the feline's nocturnal instinct having taken hold long ago. The feral controlled her now, it was the easiest way. There was some memory, long misted by time, of a pack. The human in her dreamt of them from time to time, waking with eyes covered in an unfamiliar wetness. The feral did not know of such things. Nor did it care. Such things were meaningless to her.

As the moon rose high in the sky she would emerge, taste the night and hunt. Sometimes strange things accosted her at night and she would fight them. Sometimes she hunted alone, undisturbed.

But then, there was a change. He looked like her, smelt like her. He hunted like her and fought like her; tooth and fist and nail. They were the same. No words were uttered from their lips — for they had forgotten their meaning. No promises were made, yet both knew they were no longer alone. She stopped dreaming of the five friends. And she was happy.

Every night they would emerge from the dark space, which they knew as home, taste the night and hunt together. They would skulk in the shadows, shy away from those that looked like them, but smelt different, sounded different. Those people would shout into the night, words without meaning to the two ferals. Freaks, monsters, vermin. Food would sometimes be scarce, when people marched the streets to chase them away. But they were happy, for they were together, two of a kind.

They came one day, just as she was beginning to feel the first stirrings of a new life within her. There were seven of them - more than she had ever seen in one place before.

A string of words and gestures, although not understood, made their intentions clear. They wanted her; he was of no importance, what happened to him mattered nothing to them.

The seven surrounded them; there was no escape. Adrenaline flared, pumping fire through her veins and the dance began. Back to back the two ferals fought, flipping spinning, kicking every hit well aimed and carried through. As the movement over took them it took on a life of its own. They merged, blurring the edges, one entity moving, swinging flying through the air. Something stirred within her, a memory of a time when this would have been fun, nothing more than an everyday occurrence, surrounded by familiar faces.

Now there was just fear.

There were too many of them, of four already knocked to the ground two stood again, three still standing straight and strong. She was bruised, aching. Old wounds tugged and pulled, slowing her, slowing them.

She watched as he fell with agonising slowness, a blow to the side knocking him down. Another blow hit him, and another. She screamed for him, a feral noise that ripped from her like something breaking inside.

She watched as a syringe was drawn from a dark figure's pocket and she fought to get to him in time. She watched as the green fluid was injected into him and fought to get to him in time. She watched as he reached out to her, screaming as she had. Crying out to her. His meaning clear.

Fight. Run. Hide.

She watched as he slumped to the floor, and she ran.

It was many weeks before she stood before the familiar door. She had walked slowly. Feeling the toll of the fight, the loss of a loved one and the draining creation of life. Feeling the growth of his child within her. Fences jumped, borders crossed, she knew where it was she wanted to go.

Home.

Safety awaited her there, although she could not go there directly. No, she must wait for them here, in a place of safety where they were sure to visit.

The door was locked. She could not move it. But the human in her remembered a picture, a drawing the feral could not interpret. From this the Human knew there was another way. Around the back and though a hallway, up a wall and round the side. Dropping from the roof to the ground, she was inside. She was safe.

"Adam, when was the group supposed to arrive at the safe house?" The voice stirred her from her daytime slumber. A barrage of smells assailed her and she remembered home. This was Jesse. "Yeah, well, there's already someone here." A pause. "I don't know. Someone's cleared out most of the food stores." The words meant nothing to her, but his voice spoke of anger, irritation. It had been long since she had seen him — would she be punished for running? "OK, Adam, I'll be careful. Jesse out."

Adam, Jesse. These words were names, she knew that. She wondered if she had a name.

She crawled from beneath the bed — her new den in the strange, if familiar place. There was no one outside the door but, stepping out silently, she sensed his presence in the corridor. His anger vibrated through the space, she felt threatened, isolated. This was supposed to be a safe place. This was supposed to be a friend. When she came face to face with Jesse she fell quickly into a defensive stance, preparing herself for a forthcoming attack which seemed unavoidable, judging the mood that emanated from the man. When his skin unexpectedly took on an orange glow in the pattern of bricks on a wall, she yelped and skittered back into the room to the safety of the underside of the bed.

She was not safe here.

"Adam?" His voice was still in the corridor; he hadn't come after her yet. "It's another Feral. Do the guys have the antidote on them?" A pause. She tensed, then relaxed as he continued. "No, I didn't get a good look at her. She looked like she was about to attack me. She's covered with dirt. I think she's probably one of the first ones." She tensed again as he stopped talking. He would come for her any minute now. "I think I scared her. She's hiding. I'm going to wait for the others before I try and get her out. I'll talk to you later, OK?" Steps moved away from the door and she heard him leave the corridor and enter the main hall of the house. He had not attacked. She remained unhurt.

Why did he not attack?

Ten minutes later she had plucked up all her courage and prepared to face Jesse again. She moved once again to the still open doorway. He had not shut it or trapped her inside she was encouraged to notice. There was no one in the corridor now, she was sure. She moved cautiously to the end of the hall, every sound a threat. There was the sound of breathing, soft and slow - he was no longer angered - and the sound of paper on paper. There was still the smell of fear in the air, but the aggression was gone. He was no threat to her now, she knew. Although part of her had known that all along.

He was a friend, a Brother, family.

He was sat on one of the softer chairs, book in hand. He glanced up at her as she entered. Something feral crowed in her as he accepted her dominance over him by looking away, not holding eye contact. He glanced up again when she didn't move from her position in the doorway. Jesse was well versed now in dealing with out-of-control ferals; there had been so many recently. There were rules to follow to stay safe, and he knew all of them off by heart. Never look them in the eye, to be safe look away completely. Speak in a pleased tone of voice because; even if they couldn't understand what you were saying they could hear your tone of voice. Never make the first move, back away and watch what they do. This feral was dirty, her face and hair so thick with grime he would have had a hard time telling anyone what she looked like. He grinned at her, looking away again before she could take offence.

"Well hello little pussy cat. Sorry if I scared you before. Do you want to come and sit down?" Jesse patted the seat beside him and was surprised as the feral immediately moved to sit. "Guess you've forgiven me, huh." Jesse returned to his book, satisfied the feral wouldn't hurt him unless he showed aggression towards her. Curious as to the book that consumed the man's attention, she draped herself across his lap so that she was laid beneath the book, and able to see it's cover. He tensed a little, trying to work out what she was doing, but chuckled as she tried to follow the cover of the book as he sat up. Relaxing again he showed her the cover and she examined in carefully.

The picture on the front showed a dark haired woman, crouching, trying to protect herself from a great beast beneath the full moon. The sky was painted green as the beast showed its teeth to the scared woman. She wondered if Jesse would run if she showed him her teeth.

There was something familiar, it occurred to her, about that book. A phrase she knew like she knew herself. Something she had not heard for many years, a lifeline in times of old. Control.

"The Beast does not control me." The words were slurred and rough, voice changed by disuse. Jesse looked up startled. "I control myself."

"So you talk pussy cat. Well that's different." Risking a look straight into the feral's now permanent yellow eyes, Jesse gasped and jumped up out of the chair, scattering the startled feral into the farthest reaches of the room. "Adam, ADAM!"

TBC - Please tell me what you think. Is it worth continuing?