AN:Hey guys!
This one is going out early because I am on holiday next week (can I get a WOOP WOOP) and I am not taking my laptop with me. Unfortunately, however, next week's chapter may not be out on Sunday :( I haven't got it written up yet (my time and attention has been diverted to another NEW fic (hohoho!) which will be out soon!) and I don't want to rush it on Saturday or Sunday so I will put it out as soon as I can. I hope you guys understand!
Enjoy!
Riza stood on the doorstep, no doubt as dumfounded as her father looked. She took in his appearance. It was scruffy. His beard was long, hanging about mid-neck, and his hair was down his back, resting between his shoulder blades. It had been almost a year since Riza had last seen him. The change was startling. The man she was looking at now looked about eighty, rather than in his late fifties.
"Riza?" he whispered breathlessly. Riza watched as he reached out to touch her, as if to make sure she was truly there. Her heart constricted as she heard the hope in his voice.
She wasn't sure how to respond. Throughout their trip, she had ran through all the things she would say in her head over and over again. But now she was here, it was all gone in a puff of smoke.
"It's me," she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat.
"Oh my god." The pair remained frozen, a tableau of shock. A piercing sound from inside the house kicked Riza's brain into gear. She flinched, looking past her father and into her childhood home. He followed her gaze and then, as if remembering something important, ushered her in the house quickly. "Come in, come in," he mumbled, shuffling around her. With one last glance outside his door, he closed it quickly. Riza watched his behaviour noting he had an almost paranoid air about him. He moved away from the door and headed for the kitchen, his gait quick and purposeful, leaving her by the front door.
"Dad?" Riza asked, her voice betraying her. It cracked upon saying the word. Up until three weeks ago she never thought she would ever call the man her father again. Yet here she was, calling after him as if she was a ten year old again.
"In here," he muttered quietly. Riza entered the kitchen and took in the sight around her. The large, oak table which had once been rarely used was now strewn with papers. Multiple maps covered the surface, each marked with different symbols and arrows. Pieces of paper with corresponding information to the symbols lay either stacked or placed next to the appropriate map. There was a small stack of books in each corner of the table and one in the centre, to try and keep the maps flat and stop them from rolling back up again.
"What's all this?" Riza wondered aloud, slowly making her way around the table.
"My research."
His answers were brief and simple, like Riza always remembered. Something beeped steadily on the counter. It was a small device with a GPS tracking system on it. There was a green light and a red one, the latter now flashing intermittently.
"Research for what?"
"The Hunters."
Riza stared at him. "Dad…?" She watched his frenzied movements. He was shoving papers and books into an overnight bag. His movements were careless and the paper was becoming crumpled. Soon, it would be useless. "Dad," Riza tried again, more forceful this time. When he didn't react, she gently grasped his shoulders. The look in his eye was wild, panicked. But he stopped. "What is going on?"
"They are here."
"Who is?"
"The Hunters."
Riza released his shoulders and he began to move more urgently, his pace quickening in time to the machine that was beeping on the opposite counter. "That paper is going to be useless if you don't move more slowly," Riza admonished but Berthold didn't hear her.
"It doesn't matter now."
To try and save his work, whatever it was, Riza began to stack up the paper neatly. If it was neat and tidy perhaps she could make some sense of it later.
This was not how she imagined her reuniting with her father. Something wasn't right, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. It was like someone was watching her, but Riza couldn't see where from. Her initial sweep of the room confirmed her thoughts about Berthold's paranoia. The drapes were drawn and dusty, like they hadn't been touched in months. Dust covered almost every surface, save from the table where his work was. Her worry for her father grew as she thought of his elderly state. Was he okay? Knowing she would not get the answers she needed right now, Riza returned to the task at hand.
"Is there anything else?" she asked urgently.
Berthold nodded, beginning to roll up the maps. At least he gave them the proper attention they deserved. Each one had a parcel tube so Riza knew they wouldn't be damaged. "In my study. Grab everything you can."
Riza left him in the kitchen. However, when she approached the door of her destination, she stopped. Hand poised over the handle, something held her back. This was a room she never got to see growing up. It was as if she was banished from there, unworthy to step foot inside his beloved study. As a child this door held something over her. Instinctively, she would walk past it as close to the opposite wall as possible, or avoid it completely if she could. Her bedroom was the next door over. Glancing in its direction, Riza made a decision.
Stepping into her old bedroom was like going back in time. She was ten years old again, alone and afraid. This room had been her sanctuary. Her father never entered it, not when she cried and called out to him or her mother through the night. It looked exactly the same as it had all those years ago. The cream wallpaper and carpet looked dustier than it should have. The desk still held her pens and highlighters she had left when she moved out to go to university. A pad of paper lay on top, open at a fresh page. Riza remembered leaving it open there. She was going to leave her father a note before she left, but had chickened out and decided against it. Her stuffed wolf still lay on her bedsheets. She had owned it now for over fifteen years. It was ragged and slightly dirty. Riza had dragged it along everywhere with her as a kid. As she had grown up, it had been washed but remained by her bedside. It was a comfort in that lonely time.
Looking back, Riza smiled as she thought of how she came to own it. After school one day, shortly after they moved here, she had been walking past a supermarket and entered to get something to eat. This was before she realised she would have to fend for herself. A little wolf plushy had sat on one of the shelves. It was the last one and looked unloved and alone next to the dogs, cats, and horses. Something had drawn her to it and Riza couldn't understand why. Now she did. Impulsively, she picked it up and bought it that day. It had been with her ever since. She couldn't leave it behind now.
Shrugging off her backpack, Riza packed it inside, along with other sentimental things. A jacket she loved as a teen from her wardrobe, a keyring she had been given by Rebecca one year for her birthday, and a bracelet that was her mother's. That keyring had been the only gift she had ever received. She had promised herself she would treasure it, and that she would. The bracelet, however, Riza had left behind to try and leave this dark part of her life behind her. She didn't want to forget her mother, but she didn't want the sadness and loneliness she felt after her passing to follow her to the next chapter of her life at university. It had been buried underneath blankets and clothes in a shoebox at the back of her wardrobe. It had been left there so that even her father wouldn't find it.
Two minutes later, Riza took a deep breath and entered the study, forcing her mind to focus on the task at hand. The stale air hit her as soon as she entered, catching her throat. A few seconds later her father entered and began gathering things up, directing Riza to what she would pick. She found herself not looking around the study that had scared her so much as a kid. She found herself not wanting to.
Sounds came from outside the front door, causing Riza to pause. Her body tensed, on high alert. It wasn't her pack. They were at the hotel, Riza could feel it. The voices were quiet, as if whispering.
"On my mark," a male voice murmured.
Grabbing her bag and then her father, she motioned for him to stay silent, her eyes wide and pleading. His own expression mirrored hers, but he nodded. Putting herself between the front of the house and her father, she slowly crept out of the study and backed up towards the back yard. They were halfway down the hallway before Riza heard the man's signal. Riza shoved Berthold towards the back door. He wrenched it open, diving outside. The front door was kicked open at the same time and a smoke grenade tossed inside. Lavender tinted gas filled the hallway, choking Riza. As she coughed and spluttered, she stumbled back through the hallway to follow her father. Gunshots rang through the smoke, causing Riza to flatten herself to the floor. Her vision was blurring but she made it outside into the fresh air.
"We need help!" she shouted in her mind while reaching out to her pack. She pictured them in her mind's eye and caught a flash of them walking through a hotel lobby. But the vision was gone as something struck her leg. Kicking out instinctively, she caught a Hunter in the stomach. He doubled over and Riza shifted on the floor, swinging her leg around to kick him in the head. He hit the deck unconscious. Riza sprinted to the back door and outside.
Gun fire still sounded from inside the house, followed by shouts from the intruders. There were shouts from other houses in the neighbourhood. Someone was crying nearby.
"Out here!"
Two Hunters exited after her, guns up and ready to fire. Riza was disorientated from the smoke, but she managed to incapacitate one. A well placed kick to his knee sent him tumbling and Riza rolled over to straddle his body, punching him in the nose. A gunshot sounded and Riza tensed, expecting to feel pain from a wound, but there was nothing. She turned towards the end of her back yard to see her father aiming a rifle at the house. With a spark of recognition, Riza discovered it was the rifle she had learned to shoot with as a kid. Had he kept the same one all these years?
"Get out of there!" he ordered, his sights not moving from the door. Gone was his wild, paranoid look. In its place was the look of a soldier. Cold, calculated eyes with an impassive expression stared back at her.
Without needing to be told twice, she rolled away and into a crouch, stumbling over to Berthold. Riza clutched her head. It had begun to pound and she winced at the onslaught of pain. That smoke must have been some form of incense. She should have been dead if it was. However, she remembered her experience in the training mission with Breda. Her reaction to the wolfs bane had been dulled since her time with the vampire.
The pair backed towards the fence that joined onto their neighbour's garden. Berthold told her to climb over it first.
"You go, I can survive a gunshot wound," Riza told him, wincing once more at the pain in her head. It was like her head was simultaneously filled with cotton wool and being stabbed with nails.
"No you can't. Get over it," he barked, squeezing off another few rounds. Two more Hunters fell. The rest of the group were sourcing the sound of gunfire. Riza could hear them running towards the back of the house.
"I am living proof of that happening," she growled. Pulling away her t-shirt, she exposed one of the scars she had received from her last altercation with the Hunters. Berthold took one look at it before his gaze jumped to meet hers. Without another word he shoulder the rifle and his overnight bag and hopped the fence with surprising ease. It was well over head height and the man jumped it like he was in his twenties.
Riza waited until he landed before jumping it herself. Something struck her shoulder. Air hit her wound, causing it to sting. A bullet had grazed her skin causing blood to trickle down her arm and through her t-shirt. More bullets peppered the wooden fence behind her as she landed. She pushed her father forward, sprinting through their neighbour's yard. In the distance, sirens sounded and were getting closer.
"Keep running," Riza panted. "Get to the park and head for the woods. We will lose them in the trees." It was the same park where they were meeting Roy and Rebecca. Riza only hoped they were already there.
The chances were looking slim as they approached. The park was empty. In fact, the whole neighbourhood was eerily silent, but that was understandable. Gunshots still sounded behind them, but no bullets passed them. Riza prayed that was a good sign, that the police were engaged with the Hunters.
Breaking the treeline, Berthold stopped after around twenty paces, leaning heavily on a tree. His breathing was heavy and he swayed on his feet.
"You okay?" Riza asked. Berthold nodded in response. Her head had begun to clear, the pain receding. Breathing more easily and vision clearing, Riza looked back the way they had come. There was no one to be seen. The gunshots had ceased. She strained to hear anything, any kind of approach, but there was nothing. "What was that back there?"
Berthold pushed off the tree and regained his balance. He appeared to be in much better shape than Riza initially thought. "They have been monitoring me since before Christmas. A couple of months ago they moved in across the street." Riza's stomach tightened as that time frame lined up with her capture and then return to Roy's house. The Hunters must know who she was and who her parents were. This was bad.
Berthold paused, his gaze meeting hers. She watched as his face softened, a smile gracing his lips. Shock overtook her. It was a look she never thought she'd ever see on him again.
"What?" Riza asked, suddenly uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.
Berthold shook his head, continuing to smile. "Nothing. I just… I never thought I'd see you again." Tears welled up in his eyes and Riza didn't know how to react. "I only wish it had been under better circumstances. Come on, we better move."
"Wait, we can't just leave. I told my friends I would meet them here, at the park. They have no doubt heard about the commotion. I just need to contact them."
Berthold's expression turned to one of questioning. Riza stepped back and focussed her attention on the change. Within an instant, a wolf stood in front of him, but he didn't seem fazed. Instead, his face softened once more.
"You look just like she did."
The comment caught Riza off guard. A rush of sadness filled her, threatening to overwhelm. She managed to reel it in and focus on finding her pack.
"Roy? Rebecca?" she called.
"Riza! Where are you?" Rebecca replied. Her voice was urgent, panicked.
"At the park. I'm here with my father."
"On our way."
The conversation was ended as she felt Rebecca change back into a human. The sensation was similar to someone hanging up the phone. The connection between them had gone dead, but it was still there.
Within five minutes, Roy and Rebecca approached the park cautiously. She barked softly to try and draw their attention to the trees.
"D'you hear that?" Roy asked, cocking his head towards the trees.
"Could be a dog," Rebecca commented, eyes still flitting about her surroundings.
Riza watched as Roy finally stood straight, giving her an "are you shitting me?" look. "What dog would stick around after all that commotion?"
"Shut up," Rebecca muttered in response.
"Oh for the love of," Riza muttered to herself. She changed into her human form, calling their names softly. She had remained as a wolf because she was anxious to get moving. The pair didn't particularly want to stick around after the display they just witnessed from the Hunters, but Riza wouldn't leave them behind. "Would you two stop bickering for two seconds?" she asked them, but there was a grin on her face.
Rebecca pretended to consider it. "Nah," she shrugged. "He makes it too easy."
"I do not," Roy replied indignantly. His frown deepened as Rebecca mimed reeling him in with a fishing rod.
"We need to go," Berthold urged the trio. Rebecca and were Roy were silenced as they regarded her father. To be honest, Riza hadn't stopped the think about how they would react to seeing the man again. Rebecca looked indifferent, however, Roy's train of thought was heading in a different direction, if his now clenched fists were any indication. But they didn't have time. Whatever needed to be said could wait.
"Let's move," Riza told them. "Stick to the trees. This will take us to the highway. We'll head back to the hotel and regroup." Riza changed and motioned for Berthold to climb on her back. He looked wary at first, but climbed on. It was an odd sensation to have someone on her back, she noted. As soon as he was secure she took off back towards their hotel.
"Are you okay?" Roy asked her quietly. They were in the hotel lobby, approaching the elevator. He had obviously noted the blood on her arm. It was dry now, there had been nothing she could use to clean it with at the time.
Riza nodded. "Yeah. A parting gift from our friends." His lips pressed into a thin line, not happy with them once more. He would have to join the club.
"What happened?" Rebecca asked as soon as they had all piled into her hotel room. Riza had made a beeline for the bathroom to clean up the dried blood on her arm. Roy had taken a bottle of water out of the mini-bar and sat on the only arm chair in the room. Rebecca remained standing, looking as if she was itching to begin pacing. So that left Berthold to claim the bed. He perched on the edge, hugging his bag to his chest.
"It was an ambush," Riza called through.
"They knew you were coming?"
Berthold shook his head. "I don't think so. I didn't even know she was coming. They have been following my every move for months. No doubt when they saw Riza arrive and called it in."
"How many have been keeping tabs on you?" Roy asked. His tone was conversational enough, but there was an edge to it. This was the man who had left Riza to a cold, loveless, unhappy childhood. This was the man who neglected her as a child. It took every ounce of his self-control not to confront him there and then. It would gain nothing and make things uncomfortable when they needed cooperation.
"My last count was six. Three teams of two, each rotation at 0600, 1400, and 2000 hours every day."
"Why were they watching your every move? It seems a bit fishy to me."
"They probably worked out the connection," Riza offered, entering the main room. "To myself and my mother. They obviously expected me to live after they dumped me in the woods, so sent someone to watch over my father in case I ever returned to him."
"Dumped you?" Berthold questioned, fear plain as day on his face. Roy's gaze flicked to Riza's which looked pained at her father's response. She obviously hadn't wanted to have this conversation in this way.
Riza nodded. "Yeah. I was taken. Like Mom." Silence filled the room and it was unbearable as they waited for Berthold's reaction.
He placed his head in his hands, muttering, "Not again."
"Dad, it's okay. I made it out."
"Is that what those bullet scars were?" His voice strained and expression stricken, his eyes found her face immediately, as if pleading with her to tell him it wasn't true.
"Yes." Riza gently took a hold of his hands as they tried to return to his face. "I am all right, Dad. Trust me. We've been through a lot." Roy was surprised to see her attention turn to him and Rebecca, flashing them both a smile. "But I am okay," she stressed. "I had the best people helping me." Berthold lifted his gaze once more, his eyes sad and tired. "If there is any hope of us stopping them from doing this to someone else, we need your help. We need to know what you know. Will you help us?"
Rebecca and Roy waited with baited breaths, hoping they would come to an agreement. If Berthold really had been researching the Hunters then they needed that info, whether it would be useful or not.
After what felt like an eternity, his hands returned to atop his bag. His gaze had turned to one wrought with determination. Gone was the sorrow and pain. In its place was a fire Roy would never have expected from the man. "All right. Let's do it."