As promised, this chapter's got more action in it. I hope people like it… the number of reviews I've got is currently very discouraging (though I am forever greatful to those who have reviewed: much love to all of them.) Also: even though it's the middle of August in real life, it's October in my fic.

Corrections Corner: I've been forgetting to put in anonymous review replies. Look for those at the end of the chapter.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Uh… nope, still don't own it. I dreamed I did, though. Man, was that ever sweet.

---

The door slammed in Danny's face, closing the conversation. In reality, going to see Kai had done nothing but condemn him to a life of feral nights and painful transformations.

A part of his mind that hadn't previously been there said, Well, Sam likes the night, doesn't she? Maybe this'll score you some points with her. This struck Danny as odd. Sam was a friend, right? You're not allowed to think things like that about your friends, right? Right. You just keep thinking that, Fenton.

So he was a werewolf. That much was certain. The thing that bit him couldn't possibly have been a normal dog, or even a normal wolf. Everything fit; the moon, the symptoms, the sudden disappearance of his ghost powers… and that was bad. What happened when he started sprouting fangs and going all furry when the sun went down? How would he explain it to his parents? They might be lenient on him-werewolves were a step away from ghosts, after all-but there was always his mother's tendency to experiment on the paranormal to contend with.

And how about Tucker and Sam? He didn't want to scare them, but they might be able to help. All the same, the fewer people who knew about it, the better. What could they do, anyway? Kai was the one developing the antidote, even if she was completely hopeless at it. Perhaps he should ease into it; start by dropping hints and move up to talking to them while he was a wolf…

It was a scary thought, to think about yourself as something other than human. Ghosts were one thing, as most of them had once been people, but wolves? They were animals. No one wants to wake up one morning and think, Oh, my ears are all pointy. Must be that time of the month. Except, of course, werewolves were werewolves all the time. No days off for vacations or holidays. On the bright side, he'd have a killer Halloween costume come Saturday. Joy.

Note the withering sarcasm in the last sentence.

"Ahem! What do you think you're going to do, stand in the hall until the sun comes up?" Kai had appeared at the door.

Danny was jolted from his ponderings instantly. "Huh? Oh… no, I was just going. See you in school, Kai."

"Later, Danny. Remember; it's not that bad. Werewolves are largely misunderstood creatures. No worries mate."

"Was that an Australian accent? I thought you were from Ontario!"

"Um… my parents were immigrants? We can chat more tomorrow." The door slammed again, and Danny sighed. Kai was definitely off the deep end, but at least she was the good kind of loony. You know, the sort that isn't evil and/or trying to take over the world. She was nice, if a little weird, and truly knew her material.

Wandering down the hall and out into the parking lot, his mind found the strangest part of the talk- the last, brief word on werewolves that she had said before casting him out. She had said that all wolves worked for the Fates. What Fates? What were werewolves supposed to do for them? All and all, she really could have been more thorough.

His tennis shoes crunched loudly on the gravely pavement. There was a roar as the engine of the black Ford turned over and sat idling in the lot. The headlights flickered on, blinding Danny as the golden beams hit him. The light wavered for a fleeting second as something large and sinister passed in front of the car, and then he felt a sense of overbearing dread flood his nervous system.

He hit the ground hard, without a moment's notice as the shadowy creature smashed into him, crushing his chest. The pain was unbearable. His lungs were flattened, and every gasp of breath was a struggle. He looked up and saw the black wolf, the one that had bit him. It was back.

Had he been that sort of person, Danny might have screamed and given into the fear. But he had spent months as the Phantom! Months protecting his town, his people, his friends. Who was he to lie down on the job, even if the only one he had to save was himself?

Springing up, he threw the lupine beast off of him, and jumped on it, holding its thrashing head in a lock. It stopped moving, and as Danny was caught off guard, sunk its teeth into his arm. It scampered away a few paces. "So," it hissed, pride and something approaching happiness evident in its voice. "It worked, did it? I knew it. Admit it, boy; you want to crush me, to kill me, to tear me into shreds. That fool is wrong, and she knows it. You are a wolf now. You are one of us. Show it!"

Startlingly, he realized that this was true. He really did want to see the wolf suffer. Not just that, but to cleave its flesh in two, to watch the blood pour out of its evil, stinking nasty, flea-bitten carcass- the words weren't his, though. The feelings, the desires were being spouted by the wolf, putting thoughts in his head. Or was it only reading his emotions? Did it truly know what was in his heart?

"Enough!" He roared, the sound coming out in a guttural tone. The blood was rushing to his head. He wanted to kill. And yet… he didn't. He knew it was wrong. He couldn't kill someone; that wasn't what he did. That wasn't what heroes did. He was the hero, right?

Right. You just keep thinking that, Fenton.

Those voices in your head are annoying under regular circumstances, but they're downright disturbing when they seem to be telling you to take a human (okay, slightly human) life. Danny tried to contain himself, to get back to some attempt at normal, but was unsuccessful.

The wolf began slinking away in movements so miniscule that no one would notice them if they weren't specifically looking. "Wonderful, boy! Remember the hatred! Keep the fear! Store it away for when you need it! Use the anger, boy! Use it!"

Danny yelled as his spine arched back. It felt as if his bones were splintering and healing right away. His skin prickled, his eyes rolled back into his head and then… it was all over. He straightened up; searching for the dark wolf, but it was gone. Behind the wheel of the Ford was Kai's 'friend' Drakkus Bacchus (more commonly known as Drake Brock by anyone who didn't have a death wish). There was a smirk on his foul face, and there was something wrong with the way he appeared…

He was in mid-morph. His face was coated with fur, quickly retracting into his skin, his fangs were shrinking, and his ears were losing their peak. Danny's eyes widened. Did Kai know about this? All evidence pointed to 'yes', but still… she seemed to have the highest opinion of all werewolves, and had nothing but loathing for Drake. If she didn't know already, he would have to tell her.

The car pulled away, and Danny was dimly aware of Drake yelling out his window: "Catch you later, kid! Enjoy high school… while you still can!"

---

Another wolf stepped out into the dark, her fur fluffed up in tense fury. "Well now," she growled, her tail lashing angrily. "Isn't this interesting? That moron fuzz bag comes up here to talk to me about 'not interfering' and then he… this… that bastard!"

She prodded Danny with one claw. He squirmed. "At least he'll live," she sighed, looking him over. "This kid's got a real talent for getting into trouble."

A flash of lightning rent the sky, a claw tearing through a thick shroud, as nature prepared for the second tempest in the same week. A vicious wind swept across the barren plain of the parking lot, blowing with it scraps of trash and debris. A hail of bullet-strength drops cascaded down, pounding over the city. It drummed a tune, fierce and wild like the distant music of the forest wolves, on the tin lid of a nearby dumpster.

She could hear it, the true voices of her fellows, calling out from far away. From the mountains, and the woodlands, and the hills it came filling her with morose longing. In their hearts, all werewolves want but one thing; to run with their more natural cousins under the pale moonlight, the cover of darkness.

She tipped her head back to the sky, closing her eyes tightly, and let the song flow out of her as well to join the waning silver voices of the her beast kin.

And from the cloak of sleep that from time to time claims us all, Danny howled too.

---

This has got to stop, Danny thought. This time, he woke up on the floor of his room, every muscle in his body burning with pain. His entire being was one huge Charlie Horse, and if he wasn't positive of his continued existence, he would have sworn that rigor mortis was setting in.

Furthermore, his dreams had been rather disconcerting. All of them were… inappropriate for civilized discussion. They were still as real once he returned to the waking world as they had been before.

He tried to get a fix on what time it was, but noticed an extreme lack of alarm clock on his desk. Based on the position of the sun in the sky… he had about fifteen minutes to get to school. Oh well. What was one more day in the same clothes, anyway?

To be honest, he was sort of anxious to tell Kai about Drake; if she didn't know already, she should. This wasn't one of the nice, kind werewolves that she seemed to love- this guy was deranged. And dangerous. How could he have had that effect on Danny? Even on a bad day, he would never have dared harbor thoughts of murder. It was unthinkable. And yet, there he was, with a small aftertaste of malice still hanging about his system.

Every move he made hurt terribly. Nothing in him was functioning properly. But he had to get up and go. Nothing screamed 'bad day' like sitting in detention with aching muscles and an invisible tail.

Every hurried step he took was torture, made all the worse by the fact that he was impressing it upon himself. If this was what being a werewolf was like, he was ready at that moment to dedicate the rest of his life to helping Kai find a cure.

"Danny! Over here!" Sam was yelling at him, and with some difficulty, he raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, Sam," he choked out, managing a weak smile.

"Are you okay? You seem a little off."

"Fine, fine. Look, have you seen Kai today? I've got something real important to tell her."

Sam glared at him suspiciously. "Not this morning, no. Why? What's so important that it just can't wait?"

"Um…" Somehow, Danny felt that this was private. Besides, Sam didn't even know who Drake was. He was thankfully spared the painful explanation by the bell, which signaled first period. "Look at the time! Gotta go, Sam. See you later!"

---

The first half of school could not have passed slower for Danny. It seemed that time had crawled to a stop, and the seconds were ticking away at a speed to rival dripping molasses or a drunk snail.

At lunch time, Kai finally turned up. She was clutching a sack of food from Nasty Burger in one paw- sorry, hand, and had a newspaper tucked under one arm. The bag was dripping grease. "Hey guys!" she barked happily, placing herself in a seat next to Tucker, which put her across from Sam and Danny. The bag rested on the table, exuding rivulets of liquid fat and gristle. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was heavy."

"Do you mind?" Sam growled, staring in horror at the repulsive sack. "Some of us are trying to use our lunch hour to actually eat."

Kai shrugged. "So am I. Learning builds up a big appetite."

"But… you just showed up now," said Tucker, who was equally revolted by Kai's lunch choice.

Kai eyed him evilly. "Don't get smart with me, Foley, or I'll slam that lunch tray so hard over your thick skull that you won't see daylight until next Tuesday."

"Being a little immoral, are we?" Danny asked, wondering what had gotten into Kai.

"Everyone has their bad moments, Fenton. I just happen to be in the middle of a bad month. Or year. Or possibly even decade." She opened her bag, which was crammed to the top with burgers. Watching Kai eat was a fascinating spectacle. She was capable of devouring an entire burger in a minute flat without giving the impression that she was rude. The entire meal, bag and all, was gone from the face of the Earth within a quarter of an hour. (No, she didn't eat the bag- she threw it in the trash.)

After she had finished, Danny dragged her out of her seat and marched the both of them off to a quiet, secluded area where they could talk in peace. "Kai," he began, "I think Drake is a-"

"Werewolf?" Kai supplied, glancing at the front cover of her paper. "I've always known that; it's hardly old news. Hey, you've got a nickname. Inviso-Bill. Cute." The headline of the paper read, COULD THE DISSAPEARANCE OF INVISO-BILL BE LINKED TO THE CHANGES IN THE LUNAR CYCLE? A BAFFLED SCIENTIST SPEAKS. There was a picture of Danny as the Phantom.

"Aren't you mad? The guy's clearly pure evil! He gives werewolves a bad name! And it is not cute, it's inane!"

"You really need a better publicist. This photo barely looks like you."

"You've missed the point entirely!"

"Sometimes I try to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kai paused, and looked up from her paper. "It means that there are times to ask questions, and times not to. This falls into the second camp."

Danny didn't know what to do, and said so. "I'm going crazy, Kai. I can't live like this!"

"You get used to it. Everyone does. Life goes on."

"That Drake… he made me feel like a monster. I wanted to kill things, to hurt, to cause misery and despair."

She considered this. "Yeah, that sounds like him alright. Regular Mister Sunshine, he is. Ignore it. That's the best thing to do in times like this. Just sit back, pour yourself a cup of hot drink, and ignore it. Remember: there is no evidence that life is so serious. Take it as it comes, and leave the fringe stuff well alone. Though there is merit in the idea of staying off from Drake. He can be hazardous to the untrained mind. Or the trained one."

"But-"

"Don't ask so many questions. You'll live longer." A thermos was proffered and handed over.

"What's this?"

"Drink it. It helps."

"But what is it?"

"You might think of it as chicken soup for the werewolf soul."

"What'd you do; grind up a book and make coffee out of it?"

Kai rolled her eyes. "Do I look stupid? That never works. Drink it anyway."

---

Picture a room, far away from Amity Park, where time really has stood still, if it ever existed there at all. Picture sloping stone walls, worn smooth by the gentle stream of time, and cavernous halls filled with elegant gold-plated furniture. There are swords and maces mounted on the walls, because that's the sort of place it is.

Picture a figure, not more than a few feet high, cloaked and seated in his magnificent throne. His gloved hand plays idly with the trimmed hem of his robes, while the other one raps out a funeral march on the armrest. He has done this so often that the leaf has peeled off.

Picture his servant, a great shaggy wolf, coming towards him down the red carpet. The servant's eyes betray none of the fear he feels, be he reeks of it. The moonlight and torchlight take turns dappling his coat.

Picture and hear the words the wolf says, as if in a dream. It is all a dream, truly, everything is. Wise men know that. "It is Drakkus, master."

"What of him?" snarls the cloaked figure, both hands gripping their rests hard enough to leave a shining residue on the gauntlets. "Has he done something utterly foolish and ludicrous again?"

"Yes, my lord," says the servant, trembling in frightened agony. He knows he will be punished. His master has never heard the expression, 'don't kill the Messenger'.

"Then what? Out with it!" The master's rage fills the room, hanging over it like a thin veil.

"He has… bitten one of great and unplumbed depths of power. The Fenton boy."

The master's eyes narrow under his hood. "Thank you, Hortus. You may return to your quarters." Hortus went, joyful in successfully completing his task without the side effect of death. "Oh, and Hortus?"

"Y-yes s-sir?"

"Tell the children of the night to stop that bloody music, will you? It's driving me up the wall, and I have a headache." Picture Hortus leaving. Picture the crickets outside promptly shutting up, hoping to not have their tiny heads slashed off.

"So," the master says, alone at last, "it has come to this. I always should have known. Thesarus!" A scrawny gray wolf with a bad leg appeared. "Call Antigoras the Good. Tell him that Brother Bartholomew sent you. There are urgent matters to be straightened out right away."

---

And the plot thickens some more! Review, please! You get cookies! And, as you may have guessed, Bartholomew is another of my OCs, though I probably don't own him either, with my luck.

Before I start the reviews, I have an announcement: I am now looking for a beta reader. If you're interested, PM me or e-mail me about it. It has come to my attention that I really need one. All new chapters to be previewed will arrive via e-mail.

Anonymous review replies:

DP fan: Thank you very much. Here is the continuation. (Obviously)

Charon: And thanks to you too. You have no idea how nice it is for me to be prasied... everyone I know from real life hates my work. And werewolves are awesome.