Chapter 7; A Small Conversation:
Nuada sat in the corner of his room, darkness swimming about him. He refused to turn on any of the lights, not wanting to look upon the sterile walls of his accommodations. By all rights, his quarters here at the BPRD were adequate. In fact, compared to his hiding place within the troll market – with its dank walls and straw strewn floor – they were luxurious. But that fact did not lessen his dislike for his surroundings. If anything, it further served to remind him how much had changed.
He knew it was morning now, but it hardly mattered. Of late his days were beginning to bleed together; a sleepless jumble of time only broken by the occasional meal or visit to the training room. Nuada had resumed his practice with his spear and sword, though he still gave excuses to the demon each time he tried to join in for a spar. Nuada's constant exhaustion was affecting his aptitude, and he would not let the demon know of it – Hellboy would never let Nuada live with any sort of self-respect if he caught him making a mistake.
That was all Nuada had now, he realized. A farce of quiet dignity. And even then, his current mood seemed determined to ruin that. His outbursts of anger were growing more frequent, threatening to compromise his already precarious position here at the BPRD. Just yesterday he ended up risking his privileged treatment by confronting Director Manning. Nuada knew he should not provoke the human, insipid as he was, even though it was well within his rights to.
Krauss had called a meeting to discuss the latest news of the werewolf pack in Montana. It would seem things had been getting worse, and they now had no choice but to intervene. They suspected that, somehow, the pack was being poisoned, and this accounted for their sudden attacks on their human neighbors. There was a case similar to this back in 1957 that made Krauss suspect this was the case, but proof was required. Thus Hellboy and Myers, along with a nameless rabble of agents, were sent to bring back one of the affected werewolves to test by tomorrow afternoon. They hoped to do so peacefully, gaining permission from the pack elders, but if they refused, then the BPRD was permitted to use force.
Hearing this, Nuada spoke up, intent on knowing what would happen to the pack if it turned out they were not being poisoned. If, in fact, it was by their own volition these attacks were occurring. After all, not all wolfkin were content to live peacefully alongside humans, and it was ignorant to blame them for acting on their natures.
Director Manning made it very clear to him what would happen; when things go bump in the night, they are the ones who bumped back. Nuada told him he would take no part in any violence towards the pack. In fact, he promised to actively oppose it should it come to that. Director Manning not only laughed at this claim but took the time to remind Nuada he was here to pay for his crimes – and that did not require him living in luxury to do so. And neither did his visits with Nuala for that matter.
In the face of these threats, Nuada grew quiet. Director Manning knew he would not risk losing his sister. Manning further suggested that he learn his place here at the BPRD, but of that he was already keenly aware. Perhaps more so than the human intended.
Nuada was being punished not just for having tried to wage war against the humans; he was being punished for ever having hoped it was possible to win back what was already lost.
The anger, the frustration that had plagued Nuada of late sunk deeper into him upon this realization. It was all he was capable of feeling these days - anger or nothing. He knew the Other Kind were dying out, and he had numbly resigned himself to the fact. Slipping away from time until they quietly vanished, like an extinct species becoming nothing more than a memory. A cruel fate, to be sure, but this was worse. He was being forced to become a part of that extinction.
The irony did not escape his notice. His life - his mission to protect his people – was more than meaningless now. He was at the beck and call of the very humans he had meant to destroy; he was now one of their many tools against the creatures that went bump in the night, his own people. The BPRD was built to protect humans from supernatural threats, and the very existence of the Other Kind would always be a threat to their fragile reality. It was just a matter of time until the war Nuada had so long anticipated would spark, though the inciting party would not be his people, but the humans.
No doubt Hellboy and Abe would deny this. Nuala too. Perhaps they couldn't see the pattern that was forming or refused to. Either way, Nuada would not shatter their ignorance. Let them have it. It hardly mattered what he did anyway. This was the work of fate, and it would not be denied. Nothing he had done or could do would ever change its course. Nothing.
Nuada stood himself up suddenly, trying to shake off the heavy feeling in his body. He needed a change of scenery before his temper got the better of him again. Already this morning he had thrown a chair into the wall of his bedroom, shattering it – its broken pieces an empty show of anger. Honestly, it was childish of him.
Unbidden, the words Miss Winters came to mind.
"But a bad temper is a sign of inferiority. And if we are comparing faults, I would say mine is the lesser."
Inferior to a fault, was he? He could not refute the accusation. If this was fate's designed punishment for Nuada, then surely the witch was its chosen voice.
He had not expected to find her haunting his doorstep that night, nor did he expect her to speak so boldly to him. In all honesty, he had put her from his mind after he made her a victim to his temper. He could see now that he was wrong to do so, especially since it compelled his sister to apologize on his behalf. The knowledge she did so behind his back stung his pride. Like he was an irritable child she was trying to handle. Worse was that the witch – an actual child – felt the need to berate him as well.
He had not expected that from her; that spark of spirit. Until that moment she had always seemed a frightened, fragile little thing. Perhaps that is why Nuada could think of nothing to say in retaliation that night, allowing her to retreat to her room without another word. Even so, Nuada's opinion of her and her dangerous lack of control over her magic had not changed. She was still an apprentice playing at being a true witch, pretending to be anything other than the pathetic and ordinary human she was.
And yet…
"With blood, tears, and the worst of sufferings, I earned it! So never say I do not understand my own power, never!"
It was a strange claim to make. Stranger still was her claim to know his anger, even his hatred, towards humans. He doubted this the most. A small, wide-eyed girl like her, capable of hate? It seemed impossible. She was all shyness and innocence, to a fault.
But a part of Nuada warned him that he should not dismiss what the witch had told him. After all, she had no reason to lie to him. If that was the case, then what happened to earn her the right to compare her hate to his? Was it this hatred she claimed to know that helped her gather her immense power? Is that why she lacked control? While he refused to entertain Nuala's notion that he and the witch were not so different, Nuada was beginning to wonder...
A curiosity was beginning to foster in him, sharpening his interest in the witch, but Nuada was determined to disregard it. He knew all he needed to about the witch to determine she was a danger to herself and others. The reason why hardly mattered. But with him incapable of feeling little else but paralyzing emptiness or useless rage, it grew difficult to ignore the curiosity that roamed in his mind as some kind of reprieve.
Determined not to allow it to win, Nuada grabbed a book and left his quarters. He was in need of a distraction, but the thought of training exhausted him further. He would instead retreat to the greenhouse, needing to see the outside world even if through the tinted glass. Moreover, he wanted to test if Director Manning still allowed him clearance to the top floor – one of the many 'privileges' the human threatened to take away after his outburst yesterday.
As no agent made to stop him, and the ID badge he was given allowed him access to the elevator, Nuada assumed all was well. However, just as he reached to open the door of the greenhouse, he stopped himself.
From inside, he could hear someone moving about. It was too early in the day for the agent in charge of watering the plants to be there. And even if he misjudged the time, a BPRD agent certainly wouldn't be humming a lullaby while they worked. There was something else too, a pulse of magic that could not be mistaken, and Nuada knew who was on the other side of the door.
This only gave him momentary pause. The presence of the witch hardly mattered to him before, so why would it matter now? He had as much right to be in there as she. That was all the reasoning Nuada needed to enter the greenhouse, ignoring the way his curiosity sharpened itself once more.
Eve hummed to herself, feeling happier than she had in a long time. She was transferring one of her plants into a larger pot and had decided not to wear gloves, wanting to feel the soil between her fingers. It always brought back memories of when she was a little girl on her family's farm. She was always covered in dirt, constantly messing her dress or hair to her mother's lasting annoyance. It was good to be surrounded by green again, even if only in this one room of the BPRD. Living underground was becoming more and more unbearable by the day for her. Still, Eve would take what little joys she could, and promised herself that she would enjoy the tasks ahead of her this day.
There were still some of Dr. Hale's plants that needed to get settled into their new home, and more than a few needed pruning. Furthermore, Eve had decided to adopt the other plants kept in the greenhouse as well. Whoever was in charge of them was doing an adequate enough job, but it was clear they did not have a green thumb like herself. That said, there was some kind of glow about the plants here. Almost like elf magic...
Eve ignored the suspicions that came to her mind, intent on not having her morning spoiled with thoughts of elves or their princes. She instead considered how to go about putting in a formal request to take charge of the greenroom and its tenants. Myers had suggested it to her weeks ago, saying it would help make ordering supplies like soil and pots easier. Besides, no one really liked taking care of the plants, so it wouldn't be as if anyone would fight her for it. Then again, she would have to make the request to Director Manning, and she'd rather not speak to him if it could be avoided.
As she pondered this, a spade on the worktable beside her was suddenly pushed off, clattering to the floor. She expected it to be Bartholomew getting himself into trouble again. He had not been happy being woken up this morning just to be dragged out to the greenhouse and slithered off the moment she put him on the floor.
In this instance though, he was innocent.
"Oh, not again."
She turned to glare at the culprits. Her Moon Goddess Lily, lined up and waiting its turn to be re-potted, kept pushing things out of its way to get closer to the Aglaophotis Peony that Nuala and Abe had gifted to her. Since the Peony had joined her collection here in the greenhouse, the Lily had taken an immediate and fierce liking to it. Possessive really, as it purposefully swatted a plant mister off of the table that was in its way.
Coming over, Eve pushed the Moon Goddess Lily back into its place further away from the Peony, its sentient vines immediately wrapping themselves around her hand in protest.
"You can't keep doing this! It's so petty, throwing a temper tantrum just to get your way!" Eve chided.
The Lily, as if hearing her, began to droop. Eve immediately was on her guard.
"Now stop that. I am not going to let you make me feel sorry for you."
The Lily's white petals curled in on themselves, shriveling up its beauty in protest. Eve was sure it would refuse to blossom again unless it got its way. Realizing she had no choice, she pushed the Peony and Lily back together.
"Alright. Alright. You win. Just don't smother each other, yes?"
Immediately the Lily gently wound itself around its shyer companion, its petals quivering happily as if they were not plants but lovers reuniting. Maybe they had been in a past life, but that was no excuse for them to get all huffy whenever she tried to water them.
"And stop it with the jealousy. It is not becoming, even for a lily."
Deciding to leave them alone, Eve turned her attention onto one of her more better-behaved plants. It was a Black Tongue Thistle. It was a lovely thing of dark lilac, and quite gentle despite its poisonous prickles. Carefully, she petted its leaves.
"And how are you today?"
Its answer was a quiet one, but it made Eve smile. When given the chance, and a bit of magic, flowers had their own voice and would speak of such wonderful things. Dr. Hale had once accused her of being more of a hippy tree hugger than herself, but Eve was not entirely certain what she meant. She knew it was some kind of insult, but Dr. Hale called herself one too, so it couldn't have been all that bad.
The thought of her deceased friend dampened Eve's mood a little, but she tried to shake the despair aside.
Things were not so bad. Certainly, the BPRD did not yet feel like home, but at least Eve could claim Nuala and Abe to be among her friends. They visited her every chance they could throughout the week before Nuala had to return to her duties and the Council. Abe however still dropped by, as he and Eve had begun to borrow books from one another's personal collections. Krauss too was beginning to grow on Eve, and he seemed determined to be of assistance to her any way he could to help her regain control of her powers. Myers, of course, forgave her for her outburst in the cafeteria and was once more pestering her about watching Harry Potter together.
But the others, Hellboy and Miss Sherman, Eve knew she needed to think of a way to apologize to them. She still wanted the demon's friendship but feared that her chance had been lost already. And as for the Prince...Eve did not even want to think about him.
As if hearing this, fate decided to play a cruel trick on her as she then realized she was no longer alone in the greenhouse. Sharply she turned around, and there he was.
She did not know how long Prince Nuada had been standing there, shaded by the overreaching trees that crowded the only entrance into the greenhouse. Perhaps it was this - the idea that he was suddenly here and blocking her only route of escape - that caused her powers to flare out in alarm.
Hearing something above her shatter, Eve looked up to see a light violently spark out. Thankfully no shards of glass rained down on them, but that didn't keep Eve from cursing, something she hadn't done in decades.
"Damn it all to Hell, not again."
Why did this keep happening to her? It had been bad enough for her to run into the Prince in her nightclothes the other week, but here? Now? Without any warning? It was too insufferable. If just his mere appearance was enough to fluster her and cause her to panic, she did not want to begin to think about the reason why he had come here. After their last meeting, she was not in any hurry to cross his path again. And she thought, given the way she annoyed him, the feeling was mutual.
Which begs the question of why he is here then, Eve groaned to herself, trying to gather some sense of composure. Maybe he was here on other business and hadn't sought her out. She hoped this was the case, but still braced herself. But when she forced herself to meet his eye, she found his attention elsewhere. Namely on her hands, which were stiffly glued to her sides.
Following his gaze down, Eve realized the sleeves of her dress were rolled up. She had done it earlier so as not to get them dirty, but this left her wrists bare. The large, pink faded scars that circled her wrists were exposed, and it was these marks that held the Prince's gaze. Trying not to panic, Eve tugged her sleeves down, neverminding that she got dirt all over herself in the process. This attempt to hide her scars did not go unnoticed by the Prince, who then flicked his gaze back up to meet hers. It seemed he could sense her shame, and - whether out of pity or disinterest - Nuada drew his gaze to rest on an object behind her, allowing Eve to try and gain her composure once more.
Silence beat heavily between the two of them for a time. Eve hardly knew what to think, let alone what to say. Some part of her hoped to avoid the Elven Prince forever, though that was obviously a childish wish. Still, she would not be cowed into repenting for her actions last time they met. Her words were the truth, and if he cared to dispute that with her, then she welcomed the challenge.
Emboldened, Eve gave the Prince a stern look.
"Did you want something, Prince Nuada? Or do you plan to stand there until you take root? Because I-"
"Is that a Feòil flower?" He interrupted, but his tone was soft with curiosity, and it caught Eve off guard.
She once more followed his gaze to glance behind her. He was looking at her Feòil flower, yes, but surely he didn't come just to ask her about that?
"You know of them?" She asked, looking back at him.
"I thought they had all vanished," Nuada answered, his eyes still trained on the flower. He looked like he wanted to approach it, to touch it, but hesitated to come closer. She was thankful for whatever made him keep his distance.
"Not all. There are still a few left, as you can see."
Silence returned, and Eve felt it press in on her. What had the Prince come here for? Was it to speak to her? In that case, he was being a lot more cordial than she had come to expect from him. Or at least, he had yet to insult her. She knew he disliked her, finding her at best an annoyance and at worst a dangerous amateur who could not control her powers. This, and the mystery as to why he was here, sparked a nervous need in her to say something before he got the chance to.
"Dr. Hale liked to collect rare plants used for potions. She was an advocate for the preservation of the natural world and a horticultural expert. It came hand in hand with her study of witchcraft I assume. I liked helping her with her experiments, as potions are more my specialty than spells and whatnot. I always had a green thumb, being a farmer's daughter and all, so I guess it was only natural."
She was rambling, she knew this, but Eve was unable to stop herself until she added, "When Dr. Hale died, she left me all her plants. They were her treasures, along with her research papers."
"It is…quite a collection," Nuada said once she finally stopped for breath, his gaze appraising the mess of pots and plants on the work table.
His words - sort, simple, and detached - calmed Eve. It would seem whatever he had come here for, it was not a confrontation with her. Perhaps his presence here had nothing to do with her. He was an elf after all, and elves admired all things good and green. Maybe he came to enjoy the flora the same as her.
"Is that what I think it is?" Prince Nuada asked, finally moving closer to the work table. Eve, consequently, took a few steps back. When the Prince noticed this, she tried to make it appear that she was reaching for her pruning sheers.
"A rictus tulip, yes," She answered once she had room to breathe, "I'm afraid it is not doing well at all. Ground bat bones are hard to come by at the local supermarket."
Eve chuckled when Nuada turned a quirked brow to her.
"That was a joke. I think."
Silence fell again. But this time Eve was less unnerved by it. Whatever he had come here for, it seemed he had no intention of bringing up what last occurred between them. For the moment, Eve was happy to ignore the elephant in the room with him. But his temper confused her; she had offended him so easily by accident before, but after she purposefully insulted him, he suddenly wanted to discuss horticulture with her?
"I've been meaning to go to the Troll Market for supplies, but it is a long way to Brooklyn." Continued Eve, more to herself than Nuada as she began her pruning, "I know it's only an hour and a half by train, but I don't care much for crowds."
If Nuada was listening to her anymore, he made no indication. He simply continued to observe the plants on the work table. Eve felt a swell of smug pride. She got the sense they met his approval. Elves were as close to nature as humans were to their flesh. If her plants could hold his fascination, then surely, she must be doing something right.
This confidence began to shatter though when Nuada turned his attention to the plant Eve was now tending to. Though she could only see him from the corner of her eye, she felt he was watching her hands as she worked. She knew her sleeves were covering her scars, but she could not hold back the reflex to adjust them again just in case.
"Was there something you came here for?" She asked, hoping to distract him.
"I believed this place to be empty." The Prince answered, bringing his hands before him. Glancing to see that he held a book, Eve put two and two together.
"Oh, I see. Well, I'll only be a moment longer."
The Prince nodded, and without another word, moved into the farthest corner. There was a chair there, which he promptly made himself comfortable in. To his mind, it seemed she had already left the room as he opened his book and began to read. Knowing his eyes were no longer on her relaxed Eve a bit. She worked quickly, wanting to escape his presence, but then forced herself to slow down. She didn't have to hurry on his account, nor did she have to leave before she was ready. She had just as much a right to be here as the Prince.
Moments passed and when she was done to her satisfaction, she prepared to leave. She wiped the dirt on her hands off on the front of her dress, knowing it was destined for the wash the moment she got back to her room. She was halfway to the door when she stopped.
Why do I get the sense I have forgotten something? She pondered to herself.
Like lightning, it hit her.
Bartholomew.
Looking around, she couldn't see him. No doubt he was hiding, trying to catch up on his beauty sleep in some dark corner. As subtly as she could, Eve began her search for her familiar.
"Bartholomew? Where are you?" She hissed, looking in several large pots under the worktable. Hearing a tired whistling sound, she looked up. There, high up on a shelf well beyond her reach was Bartholomew. He was giving her a foul look for waking him up a second time and promptly ignored her gesture for him to jump down to her.
"Come on, you slimy little snake. Get down."
"Croak!" Bartholomew protested, causing Eve to sigh.
"Yes, I am aware of the difference between a reptile and an amphibian, and no, I do not care for that kind of language. Now. Get. Down."
"Croak…" He relented and finally jumped. Eve caught him in her awaiting arms, nearly bowled over by his weight.
"Hecate give me strength, you are getting heavy. We're going to have to go light on the mealworms for a while."
Bartholomew would not abide by this comment on his body and wriggled out of Eve's grasp. Before she could catch him, he waddled away from her. She gave chase, but he made for the one place he knew she wouldn't follow, and dashed under the chair Prince Nuada was seated at. Eve immediately stopped. As for the Prince, he finally glanced up from his book to her.
Whether or not he noticed Bartholomew under his chair didn't register to Eve, as she immediately had to bite down a 'sorry' that wanted to escape her lips. She did not want to admit to herself, but he was right about her overly apologetic habit. And if there was anyone she wasn't beholden to be apologetic to, it was him.
Still, she had to say something. The silent staring was becoming more than unbearable. Those strangely colored eyes of his, like golden embers, like flint sparks, seemed capable of burning away anything that held their gaze for too long.
"Bartholomew, he's...not a very well-behaved familiar. I wanted a cat but Dr. Hale was allergic." Eve said, again rambling. Nuada did not respond, but out from under his chair, Bartholomew made his displeasure at her comment known.
"Croak."
"Oh, to Hell with this nonsense. And you." Eve said pointedly to the beady eyes under the chair.
She was fed up with her familiar's attitude. And she was done with being at the edge of apprehension when the Prince could not even be bothered to look at least a little uncomfortable given how their last conversation ended. He acted as if nothing had even happened. While she had been glad of that before, now it irritated her. It was as if her angry words did not reach him the same as his had pierced her. As if she was too insignificant to even hurt him.
So without another word, she turned and left. Bartholomew would find his way back to her room when he wanted to. With a flick of her wrist, the greenhouse door magically opened and slammed shut behind her. Well, at least her dread of running into the Prince again was now gone, though the desire to avoid him remained as strong as ever.
If this is to be the worst thing that happens to me today, then I will count my blessings, Eve said to herself, trying to rally back her good mood from before and failing miserably.
"God damn it! Sit! Stay! Bad dog!" Hellboy shouted, his booming voice ringing out in the transport bay. Despite this, his words were drowned in the din that emanated from within the large livestock hauler, the kind typically meant for bovine. But what thrashed around in there was a far removal from such harmless creatures.
The screaming bays and snarls were what drew Nuada there with gym bag in tow, having just finished with his afternoon training. This was the day of Hellboy's expected return from Montana, but he did not expect the demon to return with this kind of bounty. Nuada's grip on the handle of his spear was tight as he approached the container, the howling din echoing out towards him with a mad thirst for blood and flesh. There had to be a dozen, no, two dozen wolfkin in there, all trying to break free. The noise of them drew in others, and Nuada was soon joined by Abe, Miss Sherman, Krauss and Director Manning.
"Didn't you tranq them?!" Myers shouted at Hellboy as he and several other agents tried to connect a smaller transport container to the larger, getting ready to transfer the wolves in smaller batches to the holding cells in the lower levels.
"I did! Pumped each of them with enough juice to make a manticore snooze." The demon protested just as the others joined alongside him.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What the fuck is going on?" Director Manning swore, looking over the sight with a kind of horror. Wild eyes and clawed hands – not human, not animal – could be made out from the spaces between the bars. They clawed out from the air holes, desperate to get ahold of anything they could tear apart.
"I said bring back a few. A few werewolves. What the hell do you call this?" Manning asked, gesturing to the hauler. Hellboy merely shrugged.
"Yeah, well, I found a lot more bad dogs than we had anticipated."
"Yeah, try the whole pack!" Myers shouted, having succeeded in getting at least three wolves into a separate cage, which he promptly ordered to be taken to the holding cells.
"What? All of them?" Krauss gasped.
"All of them," Hellboy repeated, "Crazy as a bag full of cats. These guys in particular. The rest of the pack is back in Montana, being contained and under observation. Most of them are just a bit crabby and unable to change back into their human forms. But these guys…these guys are something else."
"They didn't care who they attacked. Their neighbor, their friends, their parents. We had to get them out of there before they started ripping their own families apart." Myers explained. This drew more surprises from the others.
"They attacked members of their own pack?" Abe asked, sounding shocked.
And for good reason. Nuada knew as well as he did that wolfkin were loyal to their pack above everything else. It was in their blood. To strike out at one of their own kind, especially one that belonged to the same pack as them, was against their very natures. They all glanced over the cage once more, disturbed by the thrashing and screaming from wither. Miss Sherman in particular looked distressed.
"Look at them. They're…"
"They are trapped in madness." Nuada finished for her when she could not.
"They got something else in common. Here." Myers spoke as he handed Krauss a clipboard. He pointed to the listing of the wolfkin that displayed their ages.
"Their ages all fall within the range of teen to mid-twenties."
Krauss nodded, flipping through the pages to take in the rest of the information there.
"And despite being arguably the fittest group, they were the first to get sick. The older and younger are not reacting half as violently as them. The attacks from four weeks ago till now have all been these youngsters." He said out loud for the benefit of the others. The mechanical man looked up towards the cage, studying the way the wolfkin thrashed about, some even beginning to fight one another.
"Whatever has a grip on their minds, these pups were the first to be affected. If we do not find the cause, the rest of the pack will be like them soon."
"And if there is no cause?" Director Manning asked, giving Nuada a not so subtle side glance.
"Wolfkin live for their families. They care for the safety of their pack above all else. To have harmed their families, these wolfkin have not just betrayed their pack, they have betrayed their own instincts. Something must have been done to them. To blame them for another's doing is a cruelty I won't take part in." Nuada challenged. Manning's glare hardened. It seemed he was on the verge of another lecture on 'what about you being our prisoner do you not understand?' when Miss Sherman thankfully spook up.
"Uh, guys? The puppies are getting grumpy."
"We must move them over to the holding cells," Hellboy said, "This containment unit ain't gonna hold much longer."
"Well, move them already." Griped Director Manning.
Several agents silently moved in to assist the demon and Myers in the transfer. The sudden bustle of activity excited the wolfkin and another wave of baying started up again. Their hunger and anger were apparent in the howls, but there could also be heard whimpers of fright from the younger ones.
"The poor things." Krauss sighed, "I shall start my tests right away. I will need a sample or two of blood from them."
"What exactly are you testing for?" Miss Sherman asked, watching her lover with worry as he disappeared with one of the cages to escort it to the cells.
"I believe there to be only one possibility; the Moon Blood Berserker."
Nuada, who had been about to leave to assist with the transfer of the wolfkin, paused and turned towards the mechanical man in surprise.
"What is that, may I ask?" Abe asked, his large eyes blinking curiously.
"It is a potion. One that warriors of old would often buy from witches before a battle or duel. Normally, it would grant a human the strength of ten men for a time. Hence, berserker. The potion requires dewdrops gathered on the morning after a blood moon however, which can cause an adverse reaction in those swayed by the moon's influence."
"So you're saying the werewolves are having an allergic reaction." Miss Sherman interpreted, and Krauss nodded his domed head.
"One way of putting it, ja."
"How do you know of this?" Nuada asked. The potion was not common knowledge, even among the inner circles of practitioners. He knew Krauss to be a very informed individual in the ways of magic and science, but even so, he had to wonder how the mechanical man knew of such privileged information.
"Fraulein Winters. She spoke of Dr. Hale having conducted research on the potion in the past. From what she has described of the symptoms, it matches our little problem."
Again, Nuada was surprised. The witch was far too young and inexperienced to know of such a powerful recipe. She was barely more than an apprentice by her own admission. Then again, she had spoken of her specialty being in potions, and it was that very reason why the prominent Dr. Hale welcomed her into her home in the first place. It would seem she had been truthful in that regard.
"Then she knows of a cure?" He then asked, doubtful but relieved when Krauss nodded.
"Yes, but we must make certain that is what is affecting these wolves. Fraulein Winters spoke of the cure having dangerous effects on those who are not under the possession of the Blood Moon Berserker. We do not want these pups to suffer more than they have already, but certainty takes time."
"Well get the witch on the horn and get your butts to the lab so we can get the dogs their rabies shots asap," Manning ordered, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, "My head is about ready to split the noise those dogs are making."
"Of course." Krauss bowed before making his leave. Liz Sherman followed after him, no doubt wanting to lend him her assistance. Director Manning turned towards a group of agents and began accusing them of being idle, leaving Abe behind with Nuada.
"Do you believe it is the Blood Moon Berserker is what is influencing the pack?" He asked, try to keep his tone light and casual.
"Perhaps." Was Nuada's answer, still doubtful and yet hoping in this one instance he was wrong.
If the witch was right and this was the work of a potion, she would be able to cure the wolfkin of their ailments and the children could be returned to their pack in peace. But given the known adverse side effects to their kind, it was doubtful the wolfkin would be taking the potion. At least, knowingly. Were they being poisoned then? If so, by whom?
Nuada did not know. What he did know was that the BPRD would take action against the pack if the witch was proved wrong. There were so few of them left, those of the true wolfkin that had not mixed themselves with humans. And those that were had been forced to live among them, hiding their true natures away for the sake of survival. Surely, a little madness now and then was to be expected, but not of this kind. Though he may bring Director Mannings' wrath down on himself, Nuada swore he would do what he could to ensure the safety of the wolfkin.
He began to take his leave of the transport bay, wanting to go to the holding cells. Curiously, Abe followed after him. Nuada did not mind his company, finding that the amphibious man was the most tolerable of anyone at the BPRD, and perhaps would have even liked him if it were not for the fact he was his sister's lover. Their mind connection made it so Nuada was aware of his sister's and Abe's many...couplings, and it hardly endeared him to the scaled monster.
"Have you seen Nuala of late?" Nuada asked, catching Abe off guard.
"Hm? Oh. N-no. She has been busy with the Council for a while. She promises to visit as soon as she can."
"I see." He frowned.
By the tenuous exploitation, Nuada could not help but think his sister was avoiding him. Given his reaction when she had told him about the Council's decision to destroy the Golden Army, she perhaps wished to keep the knowledge of such business to herself as much as possible. But Nuada had made his peace with that, or at least had resigned himself to it, and knew Nuala knew it too. Then what was keeping her from visiting him? Was it because she had apologized on his behalf to the witch, knowing how it would sting his pride? Or was it because she could feel the hollowness inside him that caused undue outbursts of childish rage? Yes, that had to be it. In that case, Nuada was glad Nuala was keeping her distance.
Until he could gain control over himself, yes, it was best that his sister kept herself away. Honestly, he felt volatile, as if at any moment he might cause the lights overhead to shatter with the sheer force of his emotions as the witch often did. Was that the reason why his sister said the two of them were much the same? Thinking back to their last interaction, he found that her show of spirit had not been a one time fluke and she was determined not to be cowed by his presence any longer. This, and her rare collection of poisonous plants, only furthered his curiosity about the witch, the same as those scars on her wrists that she was obviously ashamed of given her attempts to hide them from him. They were unusual scars, almost like burn marks, pink with the skin of her wrists pulled tight as they attempted to heal. They had not been self-inflicted, Nuada was able to deduce that much. Were they the reason she claimed to know what it was like to suffer at the hands of humans?
"Nuala wondered if there was anything she could obtain for you at the troll market?" Abe suddenly asked, uncomfortable with the silence that had fallen, "I could pass the message along if you like."
Nuada shook his head, trying to throw all thoughts of the witch out.
"No. I have what I require. Besides, Director Manning will not approve of any requests of mine-"
An alarm stopped him from saying more. The noise echoed down the hall they were in, followed by a sudden darkness that swallowed them. Within seconds, the eery red of the emergency lights flickered on, but it did little to comfort the two of them.
"Oh, dear," Abe muttered.
Before either of them could guess at what was happening, gunshots rang from somewhere inside the facility. Immediately Nuada and Abe took off after the noise, soon joining a throng of agents making a retreat from the interior of the facility. Among them was Myers, carrying an agent who was unconscious and bleeding profusely. Their right arm had been ripped off, leaving it a stub of bone and flesh.
"What happened?" Nuada shouted at Hellboy, who came storming in the med bay they had all retreated to.
"A few of the wolves busted out of their cages before we could put them in the holding." The demon growled, sporting some claw marks on his red skin, "We tried putting them down with tranqs again but it no longer affects them. There's ten of them running loose all over the facility, attacking anything that moves."
Hellboy then put a hand to his ear, trying to hail with his comm.
"Babe? Talk to me."
"Red?" Nuada heard the demon's mate answer loudly through the buzz of static, "I'm fine. Krauss and I locked ourselves in the lab. Kids are with me, plus the big baby."
"Baby?"
"Manning."
Hellboy chuckled, more in relief than humor.
"Good job mama. You just sit tight and daddy will come get you, guns ablazin'." To emphasis this, he clicked back the hammer of the large revolver he always carried with him.
"You will do nothing of the kind." Nuada interjected, earning him a glare from the demon.
"You want to say that again, twinkle toes?"
"These are children we are dealing with, not monsters."
"Yeah? Well, those children did that." Hellboy pointed to the agent whose arm had been ripped off, now under the care and attention of the med team, "And like I said. Tranqs don't work on them anymore. You got a better plan, better say it now or just shut up."
Despite this show of anger and the concern he no doubt felt for his mate, Nuada could tell that the demon was showing restraint. Hellboy did not wish to harm the wolfkin children any more than he did, otherwise, the demon wouldn't stand here arguing, but rather would go in 'guns ablazin' as he said to get to Liz Sherman and his own children. Then, for the moment at least, it would seem they were both of the same minds to handle this situation with as little violence as possible. With that, Nuada's warrior trained mind quickly came up with a plan.
"Order all your agents to either pullback to safety or hide. Close off the wolfkin to the interior of the facility. Let things get quiet. Then, we shall go in and force them back, driving them into the holding cells in the lower levels."
"With what?" Hellboy frowned, "Again, tranqs don't work."
"No, but wolfkin have other weaknesses."
"Citrus!" Myers suddenly shouted, "Dogs hate it. And chili pepper."
"Okay, so we cook up some spicy orange chicken?" The demon scoffed, but Abe interjected with an actual useful idea.
"I can do better. I can make a specialty mace from wolfsbane. I can get flash bombs and noisemakers too, which may frighten them. All I need is five minutes!"
"Go," Hellboy ordered, and off ran the amphibious man towards the armory that was on the upper level of the facility. Next the demon turned to the agent.
"Myers, get on the horn. Tell people to pull back or hide. Get everyone's position. I want a total body count, got it?"
The human nodded and went to go do just that, leaving Hellboy and Nuada alone.
"So, you're going in with me, huh?" The demon asked, looking down at him as if trying to size him up.
"Yes. Unless of course, you think you can take the wolfkin alone." Nuada challenged, causing the demon to smirk.
"You know, I think this is the most I've seen you get riled up since I kicked your ass a year ago."
"And what of it?"
"Nothing," Hellboy shrugged, "Just didn't take you for a dog person, is all. No wonder I hate your guts."
The demon left it at that, and went to prepare himself to confront the wolfkin. Nuada did the same, going to the training bag he had with him to put on his leather bracers and greaves. His cuirass was back in his room, so he would either have to make do without it or borrow something from the armory. He did so, fighting with the crowds of agents who were pouring in. Myers' order for them to pull back seemed to have reached them, for soon the lockdown protocol came into place. In the interior, there were a few emergency panic rooms for those who could not escape would be able to retreat to. When they did, it would leave the wolfkin with nothing to attack, which would make handling them easier. When Nuada returned to the med bay, now fully armored and ready, it seemed as if everyone was accounted for and he and Hellboy would be ready to depart the moment Abe returned. But then Myers, looking distraught, approached them.
"Guys? We have a problem."
"What is it? Don't tell me someone else has become a chew toy?" Hellboy frowned, but Myers shook his head.
"We've accounted for all our agents, and they're safe. But Eve…" His voice faltered for a moment, unable to hide his distress, "No one knows where Eve is."
