Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to it's owner. I only own my myriad of OCs and the plot.
December 8th, 2014
Emilia woke up early today, an electric feeling buzzing through her veins. She knew that everything she had thought she'd known previously was going to change today, and not only because it was her birthday. Rolling over, she pulled Micah into a warm embrace, excited and a little nervous for what was to come.
After they were up, dressed, and had collected Novalee and Elias from their room, they went downstairs to find a breakfast of all of Emilia's favorites laid out. Everyone relaxed today, not wanting anything stressful to happen before tonight's events. Lunch was a calm affair, and as it reached dinnertime, the rest of the family arrived. By this time, Shiloah was practically vibrating with nerves, while Emilia clutched Elias tight to her chest, breathing him in with her limited human nose for the last time.
Usually, Moira had told Emilia, a human pack member getting the Bite was a huge celebration, with allied packs coming and feasting in their honor. Annalia had told Moira that, as she was building her pack from the ground up right now, those celebrations would come later when other members wanted the Bite. So tonight, while it was just the family Moira had decided to make it almost ritualistic, something to pass on to the future pack members so they would remember their roots.
Moira calmly walked down the stairs and motioned for Emilia and Shiloah to follow, the rest of the family trailing in their wake. She was wearing an emerald green Greek-style dress with matching earrings, necklace, and ring, while Shiloah was wearing a white button down and khakis and Emilia was wearing a white goddess-style dress with a bronze and silver halter with a bronze snake-eye ring and flower shaped earrings. All three were barefoot despite the thin layer of snow on the ground outside. The rest of the family were well bundled for protection from the cold.
Emilia was freezing from the moment her bare foot stepped into the cold snow. She didn't know if she was shaking from nerves or the frigid weather and suspected that Shiloah couldn't tell either. Moira just seemed unaffected; though that was most likely because werewolves ran hotter than humans. She dutifully followed along behind her older sister, halting when Moira did. Shiloah stepped up beside her, looking as nervous as Emilia.
Moira turned around and Emilia could hear her family arrange themselves in a semi-circle around the three, her dad coming up behind her while Uncle Dave stepped up behind Shiloah. The only noise came from their puffing breaths, fog drifting upwards with each exhale.
Moira took a deep breath before saying, "Kneel." She could see Emilia and Shiloah fighting not to grimace as they did so, knees sinking into the snow which immediately started to melt. She walked first over to Emilia, touching her lightly on the cheek. "Do you, Emilia Albrecht, come before me willingly to receive both a gift and a curse? A gift inside of you that will have the strength of ten men, the speed, sight, and nose of the mighty wolf, but a curse in that you'll be hunted by both kin and members of what you once were?"
"I do," Emilia said and held her arm out in front of her for Moira to grasp.
"And do you submit to me as your Alpha, in that you'll defer to me when I ask it of you, follow my directives willingly, provide counsel if you disagree, join with me in the sacred bonds of Pack, and act in my stead when I cannot as my Second?"
"I do," Emilia replied, bearing her neck in submission and swallowing harshly when she felt Moira raise up her arm.
"Then I accept you, Emilia Albrecht, not only as a sister of my blood, but as a member of my Pack. The receiving of this Bite will propel you past what you once were, for good and for bad. Enduring the pain of it will prove not only your willingness, but also your resilience in life changing situations, a quality which we will need in spades in the coming years."
With that, Moira allowed her human visage to melt away, revealing her true face. As gently as she could, she placed Emilia's wrist in her mouth and bit down, piercing skin and tendon and causing blood to well up and flow onto her tongue and down the sides of her mouth. Emilia cried out shortly before taking a deep breath and willing the tears not to fall. The act of it only took a second before Moira was pulling away, taking out the white silk scarf she'd bought just for this occasion and wiping the sides of her mouth off on the very end. Emilia cradled her wrist in front of her as Theo stepped around her, wrapping a bandage around the appendage and tying it off. They sat back to watch as Moira stepped over to her right where Shiloah was kneeling, watching the proceedings with wide eyes before turning frontward to face his oldest sister.
"Do you, Shiloah Albrecht, come before me willingly to receive both a gift and a curse? A gift inside of you that will have the strength of ten men, the speed, sight, and nose of the mighty wolf, but a curse in that you'll be hunted by both kin and members of what you once were?"
He took a deep breath before nodding, "I do," and held his arm for her to take.
"And do you submit to me as your Alpha, in that you'll defer to me when I ask it of you, follow my directives willingly, provide counsel if you disagree, join with me in the sacred bonds of Pack, protect our interests and parlay with the outside packs to the best of your abilities as my Liaison?"
"I do," he said, shaking as he bared his neck and felt his arm raise up towards her lips.
"Then I accept you, Shiloah Albrecht, not only as a brother of my blood, but as a member of my Pack. The receiving of this Bite will propel you past what you once were, for good and for bad. Enduring the pain of it will prove not only your willingness, but also your fortitude in the face of danger, which is a quality a pack cannot do without."
Seeing that he was going to psych himself out, she swiftly brought his wrist to her mouth, biting down quickly but deeply before pulling away. He cried out in alarm, pulling his wrist back as Uncle Dave wrapped a bandage around his wrist and tied it off. Blood had still stained the corners of her lips so she wiped it off on the silk scarf right next to where Emilia's blood was before folding it up.
"Rest now, for your body will be going through many changes in the next few hours," Moira said softly, seeing that Emilia was already sagging back into their dad's arms and Shiloah was starting to get woozy as well. Theo stepped back as Moira scooped Emilia up into her arms, while Uncle Dave did the same to Shiloah. The hushed crowd of family members parted as they walked through, into the house and up to their respective rooms. Theo stayed with Shiloah to monitor him while Micah stayed with Emilia, both promising to call for Moira if anything happened.
The next day dawned bright and early. Moira had been restless and worried until around 3 am when both Emilia and Shiloah made the full transition. Their pack bonds pulsed before growing even brighter, sending a shot of power to Moira. If she'd thought that them being human made her feel more powerful, it was nothing in the face of them becoming wolves. She'd dropped off to sleep quickly after that, content that they were fine until the morning.
Moira got out of bed, throwing another log onto the fire that'd been burning in the grate for several days now. The house was very large and even with central air it was difficult to heat it entirely, so every fireplace had been lit. She didn't necessarily need it, as her body temperature ran at a steady 99 degrees all of the time, but it was peaceful and nice to look at. She pulled a robe on, treading softly enough down the stairs that she wouldn't wake the other wolves in the house.
That's really when it hit her. She took a deep breath, reveling in the smell of pack that now permeated the house, the slightly bitter fresh ground coffee that belonged to Shiloah and the warm hearth that belonged to Emilia. She wondered what she'd smell like to them; Annalia had once said it was almost like how the air smelled after rain, but not quite. Shrugging mentally, she continued down the stairs to make breakfast.
Not even 10 minutes after the bacon started Emilia and Micah stumbled into the kitchen, each with a child in one arm, quickly followed by Shiloah. Emilia and Shiloah were wide awake, staring around themselves in awe, sniffing the air periodically and cocking their head to the side at a sound. Moira smirked at them, knowing exactly what they were going through. "You learn to block a lot of the background noises and smells out. Also, you're probably going to have a hard time eating any processed food or some that has a lot of preservatives in it. It's absolutely foul," she said with a shudder.
She set out the bowls and plates of food that were already full, letting them serve themselves. Breakfast was completely informal in the house, basically a free for all before everyone went off to do whatever it was they did during the day. Lunch was semi-organized, with people eating either at the island or the breakfast nook. Dinner was a more formal affair, where everyone was required to follow the hierarchy and rules. That didn't mean it was all conservative, just the part where everyone was served. After that, conversation flowed freely, as long as it didn't get too loud for the sensitive ears of the group.
They chatted idly, Shiloah and Emilia asking questions, Micah inputting some of his own, and before long, everyone who lived in the house was there participating. At 9 o'clock, though, Moira clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright everyone, here's what's going down today. I'm going to be taking Em and Shy into the woods and no one is to follow except Uncle Davey. It'd be dangerous for you, and we already have a place picked out for training. If either of them lose control, I can't guarantee you won't get hurt, so please, stay away."
They all voiced their agreements, some reluctant like Pappa and Micah, but ultimately they knew it was safer this way. It was hard for the older ones to concede control to their 23 year old daughter or granddaughter, but it made it easier when she used a commanding voice and flashed her eyes at them like she did just now. Something inside of them told them to listen, so they didn't fight it too hard.
The days continued like this; wake up, eat breakfast, train, eat lunch in the woods, train, return to the house and get cleaned up, eat dinner, sleep, rinse, repeat. Soon enough Emilia and Shiloah could control themselves very well, even easier and faster than Moira had when she was first bitten. She thought it was because they were only betas and they had an Alpha to help them, along with it being genetic as well.
I will bring a mirror, so silver, so exact~
There were a lot of birthdays in December in this pack, with Emilia's on the 8th, Nanna's on the 12th, Theo's on the 17th, and Aislin's on the 25th. They decided to celebrate them all on the 16th with one big party, where Moira gifted Nanna, Theo, and Aislin with cars, along with a grimoire for Aislin, a pack of tarot cards for Nanna, and a new Makarov MP for Theo. Moira's mother and grandmother had looked at her oddly for those gifts, but she'd just smiled a mysterious little smile and accepted her father's enthusiastic hug.
Christmas was another big event, with Annalia having invited them out to their compound. They spent Christmas week and New Years there, with a lot of memories (and blackmail) being made.
The only problem, which Annalia had told her confidentially, was that Sebastian's wolf recognized Isley strongly as a potential mate, which Moira just knew that Theo would have wolf pup's over.
January 7th, 2015
Moira was just finishing packing the last of her stuff into her suitcase when she heard Isley grumpily stomping up the stairs. She was turning 17 in 6 days and was unhappy for several reasons. One, that she couldn't get the Bite for another year, and two, because Moira was leaving on a trip to visit her holdings in Europe that day and thus would miss her sister's birthday.
Isley flopped face down onto the bed, sighing in a mixture of annoyance and pleasure as she sunk slightly into the memory foam mattress.
"Don't sigh like that. I'll bring you something awesome back from Paris," Moira muttered, trying to decide between the Louboutins or the Chanel heels. She shrugged and stuffed them both into her suitcase, exhaling at the pout on her sister's face.
"We've already discussed this, Isley. You're still too young to leave your mother's and she would freak if she found out," Moira said, flashing her eyes at the girl who whined and bared her throat in submission. The Alpha sighed, sitting down next to the younger girl before pulling her up into a tight hug.
"It's only a week," she said, patting Isley on the back and pulling away to look at her. "I have to go, Isley. It's been almost 3 months since I took control of the McMurphy empire and the various boards are getting nervous."
"I know that, doesn't mean I have to like it," Isley said petulantly, fake pouting and crossing her arms over her chest. Moira laughed, gently pushing at her sister's shoulder.
"Come on, kid, I have to say goodbye to everyone else."
The goodbyes took little time as everyone was already aware of what they were to do in her absence. Shiloah had already gone ahead and sent word to the various packs of the cities she'd be visiting, all but the London packs responding in a positive.
The first business she visited was Ulv Teknologi in Denmark, an up and coming tech company that McMurphy had bought out and renamed several years ago. They mostly made components but had recently received the go ahead to start production on mp3 players and tablets, as well as several laptop and desktop computers. The board of directors were mostly affable people, only 1 or 2 who had a problem with her taking control, though that was mostly due to her age and inexperience in this field.
This trend seemed to follow her through the rest of her trip, from Varg Pharma in Sweden to Wilkson Insurance in Poland, Lupor Motore in Italy and Loboratory, a highly successful nightclub in Madrid. Despite her travel route she'd put off the last company for the end, already knowing that she'd have more than one issue to deal with when it came for her final stop in Germany.
Vollmond Waffenkamer was a wholesale weapons distributor and therefore kept under close watch by not only the German Government but the U.N. as well. They supplied weaponry for pretty much every police force in Germany, Austria, Belgium and Luxembourg, as well as a minimal contract to the German Army for ammunition. It was by far one of the most lucrative businesses she owned, pulling in more than $15 million last quarter alone.
It also had one of her distant cousins, Gunter Albrecht, on it's board. There was a 75% chance that he'd extend an offer from his Alpha for a meet and greet and Moira didn't know how that would go, exactly, as the Albrechts were still a pretty reclusive and private pack.
As she had predicted, Gunter had extended an invitation for dinner at his Alpha's estate for 7 that evening. It was semi-formal, as all meetings between Alpha's like this tended to be. She wore a simple black Chanel cocktail dress and her black Louboutins, with a choker necklace that Annalia had gifted her for Christmas that had her pack's personal symbol on it- a triskele made of emeralds with a golden background on a black silk band. Uncle Dave, her escort for the night, had on a black Armani suit, the only difference from his other one being the same crest embroidered on his jacket pocket.
Their driver drove them southwest out of Berlin towards Potsdam for about 15 minutes before exiting off of A115. It was a short drive from the exit to a private driveway. They waited while the gate was opened for them, continuing up the drive for another hour before reaching a literal castle. It was built like it was straight out of the middle ages, with several consecutive walls that you could only pass through by way of an enormous metal gate that Moira had no doubt was electrified when closed.
They finally pulled up in front of the castle, where they were escorted by a butler into the castle proper. They were promptly led to a formal living room, where the Alpha was waiting with her family.
"Guten abend, Alpha von Albrecht. Mein name ist Moira Albrecht, Alpha Albrecht von Butler County, Pennsylvania," Moira said, curtseying slightly in deference to the older and more powerful Alpha. Here she wasn't Alpha Moira of Albrecht territory, she was a relative unknown. This Alpha didn't have any hold over her, especially with how removed she was from their bloodline, even more than a branch family.
"Peace, Alpha Albrecht. You are welcome in my home as a guest," The Alpha, Clarimonde Albrecht, said in only slightly accented English. Moira nodded her head, clasping forearms with the wolf. She stepped back beside Uncle Dave, saying, "My cousin, Special Agent David Kowalski of the Federal Borough of Investigation."
"I am Alpha Clarimonde von Albrecht. This is my mate, Kostya Mesiace, my Second, Greta von Albrecht, her mate Ferdinand Behrer, my Successor, Kaethe von Albrecht, and her future Second, Isolde von Albrecht. Welcome to our den."
Following the introductions, they sat down to an actually very pleasant dinner. There had been some questions about her plans and such, but they were nothing but welcoming to her. When it was time to go, Clarimonde pulled Moira aside for a quiet word in her soundproofed study.
"I have to say that I am glad that the Albrecht name has stretched outside of our isolated borders. Even though you were quite an unexpected surprise, you carry our name well. You will undoubtedly find yourself an ally with my youngest son, who will be beyond pleased that he will not have to be sent out next year to try to find an American mate. The time for our isolation is coming to an end, and there have been whispers that something will be happening soon. Good luck and Godspeed, Moira von Albrecht."
So precise and so pristine, a perfect pane of glass~
January 12th, 2014
They landed in Heatherow at 8 am local time, disembarking quickly from the plane so it could refuel and do maintenance while they waited. It would take several hours, so Moira decided that instead of sitting in the VIP lounge all day that she would go explore. The terminals were crowded with people and intermingling scents, so she didn't notice that she was being tailed until she was poking around in a souvenir shop.
As soon as the man cleared his throat politely, Moira caught the strong smell of werecheetah. Slowly, she turned on her heel and blinked in shock. Standing before her, in all of his glory, was Benedict Cumberbatch.
Realistically, she should have realized that somewhere out there a well-known figure would potentially be something supernatural- there was no way Keanu Reeves wasn't a vampire- but never had she expected to actually meet them. So this random airport meeting threw her off guard for a moment, just staring, before she realized that he was probably becoming uncomfortable.
"Um...hello?" She said cautiously, confused and mildly concerned that he was approaching her in this way. The airport was crowded, of course, so he wouldn't risk trying to kill or maim her, but she'd made sure that all of the local packs around every airport they'd passed through on the way home had gotten the message that she'd be flying through.
"May we speak, privately?" He asked, casting an eye around the immediate vicinity. Having been stood there for a few minutes, there were people who'd caught sight of him and were now pointing and whispering, some trying to discreetly pull out their cell phones and cameras.
"Sure," she slowly said, looking at him closely for a second before nodding. "Follow me."
She lead the way to the VIP lounge, which was thankfully empty of everyone except Uncle Dave, looking intrigued by the tome he was reading. It was one of the books found in the Height's House, a thick one apparently about the now extinct Nemean Lions, a warrior tribe of werelion that were all capable of the full shift and reportedly had great prophetic powers. He looked up and raised an eyebrow at the two of them but ultimately elected to ignore them, though Moira knew it was just for show and he would be listening very closely.
Benedict eyed him warily for a second before seemingly convinced of his disinterest before looking back at Moira. She sat down on one of the extremely comfortable armchairs, waving at the one across from her in invitation. He gracefully sat down, examining her for a moment before seemingly coming to a decision.
"As you might know, I'm Benedict Cumberbatch, heir of the Carlton pack of London. I'm surprised by your presence here in my country because we were given no notice of your arrival," he said primly, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. For her part, Moira was flummoxed. She discretely cast her eyes at David, who nodded his head at her silent question.
"I made sure to send word ahead of my arrival, sometime around 7 o'clock local time here yesterday evening," she said slowly, eyebrows pinched in confusion. "Your liaison didn't reply, but considering that it is merely courtesy to send a message ahead, I didn't think it was odd. Every other pack in London I'd sent the messages to didn't reply, either."
As she spoke, she watched the emotions running over his face, from disapproving, to confusion, to concern, and finally, to horror. "Oh, God," he breathed out, fumbling at his pockets for his phone. He started breathing heavier and the skin around his eyes and mouth started to ripple, orange-brown fur with the beginnings of black markings starting to form. Black appeared at the inside corners of his eyes, slowly bleeding down to to end of his nose like tear tracks. His eyes were flickering from his normal blue to electric green, and long fangs, thinner than a wolf's, were starting to poke out from behind his lips.
Sensing that a loss of control was imminent, Moira flashed her eyes and let out a subsonic growl, a tactic that worked well with Emilia and Shiloah when they were having control issues. Almost immediately, his head tipped to the side and a low whine bubbled up from his chest, the markings fading away in the blink of an eye. He looked at her wide eyed, clearly not expecting that, before straightening up. Moira eyed him carefully, making sure that he wasn't about to freak out again, before nodding.
"I didn't have a chance to introduce myself. My name's Alpha Moira Albrecht," she said, not offering a hand because he wasn't an Alpha. It was extremely rude to get your scent on a shifter that wasn't an Alpha before you met their Alpha, especially an heir like Benedict was. That's why Alpha's clasped forearms; because the wrists held a scent gland, when Alpha's greeted each other, they each scented the other slightly.
His eyes widened slightly, looking at her anew. He opened his mouth, starting to say something, before closing it and swallowing roughly. He was still panicked and afraid, the acrid scents wafting off of him like a wave, making Moira start to get genuinely concerned.
"Is there something wrong?" She said quietly, noticing that Uncle Dave was listening intently, having pulled out his phone at one point and was typing something into it. Benedict looked closely at her again, slowly reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He quickly pushed a button on his speed dial, holding the phone up to his ear with an intent look on his face. Moira could hear a single ring before it went straight to voicemail.
"You've reached the answering machine of Luke Windsor, publicist. If you could leave your name and number, I will contact you at the earliest time possible. Thank you," it said, beeping loudly at the end. Benedict's eyes had closed, pained, and he took a deep breath in and out before he said, "Yes, I suspect that there is a problem."
Uncle Dave stood up then, tucking the tome into his bag before coming around to stand beside her. Benedict looked at him warily, but Moira smiled and said, "This is my cousin, David Kowalski. He's an FBI agent. Whatever it is, I'm sure that we can help somehow." Benedict blinked, surprised, before nodding.
"Can you tell us what's wrong? Anything you can think of will help," Uncle Dave said as he sat down on the arm of her chair, pushing record on his phone to start capturing video.
Clearing his throat and leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, Benedict said, "Two weeks ago, the liaison to pack Llelwyn, Alec Forsyth, disappeared out of thin air. His home in Cardiff was intact with no foreign scents, knocked over furniture, or a forced open door. Several days later, his Alpha reported that the pack bond between them had severed. His body hasn't been found. Exactly one week later, the same thing happened to the liaison of pack Gillian, Harold Smithe. Yesterday was exactly one week after that and now Luke, our liaison, is missing as well, and we have no idea what is going on. We'd posted guards at Luke's apartment building and they reported this morning that all was fine, no disturbances whatsoever all night."
By now, both David and Moira were frowning. That would certainly explain why Benedict wasn't aware that they were going to be passing through, but how on Earth hadn't anyone heard him being taken? Suddenly, a thought occurred to Moira.
"Mr. Cumberbatch, what exactly is the shifter population of Great Britain comprised of?" She said, watching as he seemed to be jerked out of his own thoughts by her question. He blinked, a little bemused, before replying, "Well, we're primarily cats here, to be honest. The three common packs are mainly leopard, cheetah, and panthers, with several jaguars, lions, and tigers thrown in. There was one Omega wolf, an American boy named Jackson, but he never joined a pack. However...," here, he hesitated, looking slightly unsure about something. Thankfully, Uncle Dave seemed to know exactly why.
"However, the Royal Family are all wolves," he finished for Benedict, prompting an extremely surprised expression to cross his face. It must not be common knowledge, then, but Moira found that highly amusing.
"Oh gosh, you're serious?" She managed to get out, snorting inelegantly at the thought. "It's just a bit of a shock, you know." Ignoring her, Benedict continued.
"Yes, the Royal Family are all wolves, but we usually don't interact with them much, as you may know. They mostly leave us alone, especially after they tried to regain power over the shifter population when they became merely figureheads of Great Britain."
"So, there are no wolves in any of the packs that have been affected, then?" Moira asked, nodding when Benedict shook his head negatively. "Well, how about we take a drive to Mr. Windsor's apartment, Mr. Cumberbatch. No offense, but we both know that a wolf's nose is better than a cat's."
"Just call me Ben, please, and I'd have to get permission from my Alpha before I could allow you to do that," he said apologetically. Moira just waved a hand, standing from her seat. "You can call your Alpha now, Ben, I'm sure this is more important at the moment than politics. Uncle Dave, there are some things in the plane that you'll need, hmm? Why don't you go get them and I'll stay here with Ben. If someone or something's going after the liaisons, how do we know that the heirs aren't next?"
Both men blinked at her, before David nodded and left with nary a word. Ben hesitated for a second before dialing a number and walking over to a corner, even though both knew that there was no privacy when it came to shifters. Moira walked around the room, eying the door and the plate-glass windows, trying not to listen to Benedict arguing with his mother. Finally, he must have won, because he ended the call with a sigh. Uncle Dave chose that moment to text her that he was ready and a car was waiting.
Once they were in the car, heading down the crowded London streets, Moira asked a question that had been nagging at her. "Is there a significant hunter presence here?"
Ben nodded, but elaborated, "There is, but we've had no problems with them in decades. Generally we're peaceful, and we police our own ranks harshly. The Mortenson's have a treaty with all of the Alpha's, including their own liaison in Buckingham." He would've continued, but he got a call just then. Moira could hear every word, and her eyes started to widen right along with Benedict's at what she was hearing.
"We're being summoned," she said to Uncle Dave faintly, his own eyes staying completely calm as he simply nodded. Of course he'd be calm, he'd probably met the Queen before when he was in the Secret Service.
20 minutes later, an assuredly short amount of time according to Ben, they arrived at the gates to the palace. Moira, as calmly as she could, fixed her hair and straightened her clothes, a little rumpled from the long flight they'd just been on. This was a surreal situation to find oneself in, she thought, almost like it was straight out of a story.
"When they receive us, keep your eyes averted and head slightly bowed. As an American and an Alpha, you owe no fealty to the Queen, but it's mainly out of respect that you don't meet their eyes unless invited," Ben said quietly as they were lead to a medium sized chamber, most likely where they were to wait until the Queen would call them in. They waited silently, Moira with her eyes closed and breathing deeply and evenly, before a man came in and requested they follow him.
Moira kept to Ben's advice when they reached the throne room, head slightly bowed and eyes averted as they were lead up a long isle. When they reached the dais, Ben went down on one knee with his head bowed while Uncle Dave bowed low at the waist. Moira remained standing, back straight and eyes averted before a regal voice said, "You may rise." Moira waited in silence while Uncle Dave straightened and Ben stood, only then raising her eyes to the front.
As expected, the Queen was sitting resplendent on her throne in the center of the dais, Prince Charles to her right while a woman with an aristocratic face, brown hair flecked with gray and blue eyes stood just behind her to the left. Arrayed to her right, beside Prince Charles, was Prince William, Duchess Catherine, heavily pregnant and holding Prince George, and Prince Harry. Beside the mystery woman was a harsh looking woman that smelled of gunpowder and a combination of herbs, mostly ones that were harmful to shifters. Her face was carefully blank, but a combination of disdain and anger was simmering in her eyes.
Moira brought her eyes back to the Queen in the center, who was studying her with a contemplative look on her face. "We are sorry that events such as this lead to our first meeting, Alpha Albrecht. We have long enjoyed an amicable relationship with your cousins in Germany," the Queen finally said, waving slightly towards her. "As you may know, this is Our Second, Charles, Prince of Wales, Our Heir, William, Duke of Cambridge, his mate Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, his Heir, Prince George of Cambridge, and his future Second, Prince Henry of Wales. To Our right is Our Emissary, Sorcha Hastings, and the liaison of the hunter family Mortenson, Iliana Mortenson."
"Your Majesty," Moira murmured as she nodded her head towards them, curiously looking at the Emissary. Besides the brown hair and blue eyes, the woman did resemble Moira's mother's side of the family. They all had the aristocratic features, though this woman was tall, about 5'8, whereas Moira's family were on the shorter side, with Moira and Aislin coming to 5'3 and Emilia only just barely reaching 5'. Moira noticed that the other woman was studying her as well, a surprised expression on her face.
"Forgive me, Alpha Albrecht, but you look remarkably like what my sister, Keagan, did when she was young. It is a little disconcerting," she said, speaking softly.
"Well, my mother's maiden name is Hastings, perhaps there is some relation?" Moira said, uncertain and slightly alarmed that an unknown facet of her family had been found in Buckingham Palace of all places, which made her wonder just what other secrets her great-grandfather George Hastings had taken to his grave.
Getting back to the matter on hand, Moira turned back to the Queen, who looked slightly amused, which concerned Moira even more. "Ma'am, I assume that our presence here has something to do with the disappearances of the local pack liaisons?"
"Indeed it does. It was a matter that We were concerned with after We had heard of the disappearance of Harold Smithe. However, We realized this morning that Our own liaison, Mr. Albert Carver, was missing as well. We were prepared to start an inquiry of Our own when word reached Us that Mr. Windsor went missing at approximately the same time, and that Alpha Carlton had agreed to allow you and Agent Kowalski to investigate the matter yourselves. We decided to allow you to do the same for Us, with the further aid of Our agents and resources you may not have had otherwise," the Queen replied, gesturing towards a servant near one of the walls, who bowed and disappeared out of a hidden door.
"Do you have any idea who may be responsible for the disappearances?" Questioned Duchess Kate, bouncing Prince George up and down slightly as he was squirming and reaching for his father. Moira thought for a second how she should reply.
"Well, the most obvious suspect would be the hunters," Moira said, noticing the indignant look cross Iliana's face. "Perhaps not the Mortenson's, as they have a treatise with the packs, but maybe a rogue group or a splinter cell? Whoever it is, they're too organized to be just a regular person who found out about our existence and decided to start offing people." That slightly mollified the huntress, who still looked vaguely homicidal but was covering it well. Moira didn't know what it was about the woman or if it was just her, but Iliana gave off a sort of righteous vibe, and that pinged on Moira's radar. Whether that was good or bad was hard to tell.
"However, before we come to that conclusion, I'd like to visit the victim's homes and see if I can find anything that others may have missed," she finished with, pleased when the Queen nodded her assent. "We will provide adequate protection for you, of course," she said, waving her hand at the door the servant had gone out, which opened to admit a squad of seemingly normal people who were armed to the teeth from what Moira could tell.
Iliana stepped forward, bowing to the Queen as she said, "Your Majesty, they won't be necessary. We can provide our own, better trained protection for our...guests," she said, and Moira was suddenly reminded of Baron Wolfgang, all false pleasantry and smarm. How did the Royal Family not notice this? Was it because they were so assured that their station would protect them, even from hunters? Moira couldn't voice this, as she could see it would only be counter-productive to their efforts and may even offend the Queen. She was comforted by the fact that Uncle Dave seemed inclined to the same way of thinking, and even Ben, for who this was the status quo, seemed uneasy about the huntress' offer.
"Nonsense, Iliana, these agents have been well trained to deal with supernatural threats," the Queen said, waving off the woman, who looked shocked. "Why wasn't I informed of this, Your Majesty?" She asked, and the anger was nearly palpable underneath her tone. The Queen seemingly took note of this, as she replied frostily, "It was of no concern to you or your interests, Ms. Mortenson. Your presence here is merely a formality to keep our treatise valid, do not forget that."
Iliana immediately backed off, directing a glare towards Moira like this was her fault. She felt her dislike towards this woman grow. Sketching a shallow bow, Moira gave her thanks to the Queen for her generosity, turning and following who seemed to be a leader. She was shocked when Prince Harry began to follow as well, turning to the Queen in question, who merely smiled and said, "Our grandson will... tag along, as they say, and keep Us informed of your progress." Moira nodded once, bidding both Uncle Dave and Ben, who both hadn't said a word the entire time, to follow as well.
I will set the mirror~
They were escorted first to Luke Windsor's house, as it seemed he was the one taken last, according to Ben. Prince 'Please for the love of God just call me Harry' Harry had informed them that the last time Carver had been seen was the day before at 5 when he'd gone home, while Luke had had a late lunch meeting that'd run until around 7. Assuming they'd both been taken right as they got home and not in the middle of the night, it was a safe bet that's what happened. Luke also lived in a much less protected highrise than Carver, making it easier for the kidnappers to take him last.
When they reached his floor, they were surprised by the person standing outside of his door. Moira was less surprised that that person happened to be Tom Hiddleston, who was, apparently, also a werecheetah. "My sister is going to attack me when I tell her about this," she said mildly, drawing a very worried Tom Hiddleston's eyes to her. He tried to put on a charming smile, but it just came off as miserable.
"Ah, you must be the esteemed Alpha Albrecht. I'm Thomas Hiddleston, it is quite the pleasure to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances," he said with a bow, visibly startling as he realized the identity of Harry. He bowed even lower, a murmured, "Your Highness," escaping his lips in almost a gasp. Harry, for his part, merely rolled his eyes and said, "Rise."
Moira could see her Uncle Dave getting annoyed with all the pleasantries and politely interrupted, "This is my cousin, Special Agent David Kowalski of the FBI. He's going to help me search Mr. Windsor's apartment, which we should do quickly before any scent-evidence evaporates."
"Of course, of course, here," Tom said as he pulled out a ring of keys, opening the door. The MI5 agents spread out, some exiting back downstairs to the lobby or other floors to keep an eye out. Tom and Ben stayed at the door, anxiously whispering to each other and watching as Uncle Dave began a methodical sweep of the apartment while Moira did a much slower, more thorough one. The apartment was laid out in a fairly open style, with the only choke-hold being the front entrance hall. Off to the left side was a coat closet which had a jacket smelling the strongest of Luke hanging on the back of the door, most likely the one he'd worn last night. There was an antique cabinet several feet from the door on the right hand side with a bowl for keys on top, as well as an art-noveau type lamp. His keys were in the bowl, smelling faintly of Thai food, and the lamp looked like it had been moved recently judging by the dust pattern on the wood.
Moira took note of all of this as she moved on to where the right wall ended, leading into the kitchen. She caught a very faint whiff of gunpowder and herbs, leading her to the wall just around the corner from the front hall. She stuck her nose almost right up against it, inhaling deeply before moving down and doing the same thing. She returned to normal height, getting onto her tiptoes to try and get a scent further up the wall but couldn't manage because she was so short. Scowling, she grabbed a bar stool from the island and set it against the wall, balancing herself on a knee so she could reach a height almost 6 feet off the floor. The scent was stronger here, as no matter how hard you tried to use a scent blocker, your hair always secreted your natural scent.
When she turned back towards the hall, Tom and Ben were standing there, looking at her oddly. She let out a sigh, cursing a cat's ability to be completely silent, before she explained, "I got a scent from here. It's very faint, but if I were to meet this person, I'd recognize them. Also, they seem to be a hunter, as there's a very distinct scent of gunpowder and herbs, primarily nightshade, which as you know is a werecat's wolfsbane. I'm thinking that they hid here and ambushed Mr. Windsor while he was still in the front hall, as evidenced by the lamp which had been moved from it's original spot, judging by the dust pattern." She dropped down onto her stomach, looking at the small space underneath the cabinet and making an 'ah-hah!' sound.
"This is what they used to drop him so he didn't make any noise," she said, holding up a wooden dart with a darker tip. She sniffed both ends, making a face as she continued, "It's from a blow gun, dipped in a highly concentrated form of nightshade and smells like... mint? The tail feathers definitely smell like mint." Both of the men had grim faces on, glancing at each other before Tom said, "Theron Mortenson is always popping mints whenever any of us sees him. It's a running joke, that he pops mints like a recovering nicotine addict, only it's not because he can't smoke, it's because he can't hunt us thanks to the treaties."
Moira blinked in bemusement, telling them, "You Brits sure have a morbid sense of humor." They both just shrugged, unconcerned. Stiff upper lip, indeed. Moira shook her head, refocusing on the problem. "Well, we can't just barge into Buckingham Palace and blame the Mortenson family with only a mint addiction as proof. We need to go to Albert Carver's place and see what we can find."
Thanks to the help of the Crown and a covert agency, it barely took 10 minutes to get to Carver's heavily secured apartment. They found almost the exact same thing, except the tail feathers on this dart smelled like cinnamon gum. Neither men had any insight on this, nor on how the two separate kidnappers had managed to get into either of the apartments as Carver's building had excellent security owing to the fact that it housed several MP's and high caliber businessmen while Windsor's building had been guarded by several pack mates. They also had no idea how the two hadn't heard their attackers, as being a shifter of any type allowed them to hear heartbeats, so no matter how quiet their assailants were being, they still should've been able to hear them before they attacked.
"I need to get in contact with someone I never thought I'd want to talk to," Moira bleakly stated from her seat, squished in between Tom and Ben in the middle seat of the armored SUV. "Who are you talking about?" Tom queried, looking both downtrodden and curious, like a kicked puppy. The expression was mirrored on the other side of her and Moira kind of wanted to wrap them both in wool and feed them sweets until they burst because damn, grown men were not supposed to be able to do that.
"I don't want to say anything until I find out if I can actually get the contact info for this person," she said uneasily, resolutely not looking at either of them because the puppy-eyes had probably been turned up to 10. Fortunately for her sanity, they reached Buckingham Palace just then, where they were quickly ushered into a rather large room with a computer and a large projection screen. Moira raised a brow at Harry, who merely shrugged with a smug expression. How was this her life? Where she was surrounded by insanely attractive Princes and celebrities who just so happened to be supernatural creatures?
Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number of a woman she'd never met, but who Annalia had said could be trusted- for the right price.
"This is Bennett," came the mercenaries voice, short and to the point.
"How much would the contact information for an individual cost?"
"Depends on who the individual is."
"I'll text it to you."
With a click, the line went dead and Moira hurriedly sent the text.
A minute later, a figure was sent back to her well into 5 digits as well as a bank account and routing number. Without even pausing to think, she transferred the money and waited. Five minutes later, the woman called back and gave her a phone number, address, Skype name and a password to use to get his attention.
Deciding to nip it in the bud, she strode over to the computer, relieved to see that Skype was already set up and the projector program was easy to use.
Signing in under a random screen name, she quickly typed in his info, thanking whatever deity was out there that his icon was green. She typed in a message, wanting to at least give him some warning of the impending conversation.
URGENT ASSISTANCE NEEDED- MA
Who is this?
HARLEQUIN CLAUDE-MA
Almost immediately, a video call was requested. She pushed answer, backing up so that she was in the frame with Harry, Uncle Dave, Ben, and Tom. The screen loaded quickly, showing a slightly disheveled gray haired man glaring at the screen. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed who, exactly, he was video chatting with before muttering, "Jesus, I have not had enough coffee for this." He grabbed up a mug, downing the contents before yelling out, "STILES!" There was a crash in the background before a tall, gangly, tattooed teenager appeared on the screen, eyes a kind of wild that you only get from being extremely exhausted. "What?! What'd you find? Wait, who the hell- OH MY GOD, IS THAT TOM HIDDLESTON?!"
Moira and her companions looked on with bemused bewilderment as the kid executed an epic flail, crashing to the floor beside the yet-unnamed older man, only the top half of his face popping up over the edge of the desk as he stared wide eyed at the people on the screen. The man had his head in both of his hands, muttering something that vaguely sounded like 'what atrocity did I commit in a past life to deserve this' and shaking his head back and forth. Moira was amused, because all of the things that she'd heard about these people? Did not prepare her for the reality. She cleared her throat loudly, grabbing both of their attentions.
"I'm assuming that you're Chris Argent, and your... friend, is, uh, Mieczyslaw? Did I say that right? Mieczyslaw 'Stiles' Stilinski?" Moira ignored the several gasps of shock from the shifters who didn't know his identity, choosing instead to watch the reactions on screen. The kid, Stiles, looked shocked, probably that someone had actually pronounced his name right, while Argent just nodded his head, giving Stiles an odd, amused look. "I am Chris Argent, yes. As you can see, we're kind of in the middle of a crisis here. Something's been attacking local law enforcement and members of the pack with what seem to be invisible arrows and there's been reports of, as Stiles calls it, 'soldiers of the skeleton war' around here so if you could, possibly, get to the point?"
Moira blinked at the bluntness, before something popped into her head from a book she'd read in her library. "Actually, that sounds like a Baykok. Has anyone been attacked with a blunt instrument lately?" Argent looked surprised and taken aback, while the Stiles kid's mouth had dropped open in shock. "Actually...yeah, my dad said that some of his officer's have been hit from behind and they don't know who's been doing it."
Moira nodded before elaborating. "A Baykok is a malignant night spirit of the Chippewa tribe, which was primarily in the Great Lakes region so it's odd that one would turn up that far west. They're basically just skeletons with translucent skin and glowing red eyes, like an Alpha's but brighter, and they only attack warriors, usually killing with their club or invisible arrows. A spear or an arrow, tipped with a hand-carved stone arrowhead soaked in the extract of the bark of the root of sassafras should kill it."
Now everyone in the room was gaping at her in astonishment, causing her to throw up her hands in frustration. "Yes, okay, I read! Can we get back to the reason that I called in the first place? The part where people are dying or going to die soon if we don't figure this out?" Properly chastised, Argent asked, "So, what is so great of a problem that you called me, who can't do very much for you in London, being all the way in California?"
Moira took a breath before listing everything that she knew. "Two weeks ago yesterday, the liaison of Pack Llelwyn was kidnapped from his home in Cardiff. Two days later, his Alpha reported that his pack bond had been severed. Exactly one week later, the same happened to Pack Gillian's liaison, and yesterday evening, both of the liaisons for the Crown and Pack Carlton were abducted from their residences by assailants using nightshade soaked darts from a blow gun. We have no idea how they were ambushed in their own homes, but the scent that I picked up seemed to indicate hunters. However, as you know, the local hunter family Mortenson has a treatise with all of the local packs, only intervening when something's getting uncontrollable, which Prince Harry and Benedict both inform me hasn't happened at all in the last decade. What I need to know, is how on earth are they masking their heartbeats to be able to ambush the liaisons, and what, exactly, is their tactic accomplishing? I think we all know what the endgame is, but how they get there is a mystery to us."
Chris was looking progressively grave as he listened to her recounting, abruptly standing up and stalking off camera. Stiles smiled reassuringly at them, before only seconds later Chris appeared back on screen with an old, heavy looking leather bound book. He flipped open to somewhere near the middle, scanning the pages quickly. A noise of triumph was issued when he found what he was looking for.
"According to my ancestor, Phillip Argent, around the 1400's on the continent rumors of a secret sect of hunters started cropping up. Generally we're not too conscious about alerting our quarry to our presence. Some call it arrogance, but it's a tactic we use to unnerve them with our confidence. But this sect, more of a religious cult really, they were the literal boogeyman to werewolves at the time. They came at any time of day, appearing out of no where and striking down key members of the packs to send them into disarray. They didn't kill them at first, no, they shot them with monkshood-laced darts from a blow gun to incapacitate them before taking them back to their base and interrogating them for everything they knew about the weaknesses of the pack.
They'd start with the runners, first, which was that time's version of liaison. They were messengers, basically, the fastest of the pack who carried messages from Alpha to Alpha. Then, they'd go for the Seconds, taking out the member most knowledgeable in the Laws, history, and politics, then the Mates, and finally, when the Alpha is already very demoralized, they'd take out the Heirs and any children that belonged to the pack, human or no. Lastly, when the pack was scattered and the Alpha either broken from the loss or enraged at the murders of their pack, they would swoop in and lay waste to them all, claiming righteousness because a broken Alpha could not control their pack and an enraged Alpha was a danger to mankind.
Because of their actions, they gained themselves a name in both the hunter and shifter communities- Mort du Loup. One of the reasons why is because several branches of the Loup family were seemingly wiped out in a matter of days with no explanation of who or how. Phillip Argent suspects that he met several of the members of this hunter cult in a pub, where they'd gotten drunk in celebration and started espousing the opinion that all shifters were unnatural hellspawn and thus needed to die, whether they were killing humans or not. He said they even claimed that the humans who carry the shifter gene in their blood should die because they're 'tainting the blood of Christ' that runs through all humans' veins. From how he writes it, they sound like a Manson-esque type cult. Oh, this is nice, there's an addendum here that says the men in the pub apparently called themselves 'fils de l' ange de la mort,' which basically translates to 'sons of the angel of death.'
That's not all. Somehow, they found a strain of tetrodotoxin that allows them to remain conscious and mobile while slowing the heart rate down to nearly nothing. When combined with the scent blocker we typically use and a balaclava, that would render them practically invisible to any shifter as long as they can remain still for a period of time, which all of us are trained to do. So, it seems that you're dealing with a secret hunter cult hellbent on the destruction of all shifters. Sounds a lot more fun than a Baykok," he finished with, extremely sarcastic. Various levels of disbelief were on the faces in the room with Moira, though Moira wasn't disbelieving, she was mad. Furious, even. She could put the pieces together in her head just fine, and the finished puzzle scene she came up with was not pretty.
Before she could voice her own suspicions, however, the Queen's voice interrupted them all. "Our pack bond with Albert Carver was severed approximately three minutes ago," was all she said before turning and walking out the door. Harry grimaced, whether in grief or worry before hurriedly excusing himself after his grandmother. Moira was even more solemn as another piece slotted itself in.
"So basically what they're going to do is this: since we've come a long way since the 1400s with communications, they're taking out the liaisons first in a fashion that'll throw the blame for the whole fiasco onto Pack Carlton, making it look like the start of a massive Territory War. It will look extremely suspicious in several days when Luke Windsor is still alive and all of the others are dead, so while we may all have cell phones and computers, everyone will be paranoid and won't contact anyone else in fear they're working in collusion with Pack Carlton.
Then, when the Seconds start being targeted, Pack Carlton's will most likely be the first to go, with Prince Charles to be the last, throwing the blame onto them next- after all, the Royal Family are all wolves, while Albert Carver was a cat. Naturally, the other packs will conclude that the Crown killed Carver, thinking he'd feel more loyalty to other cats than wolves while they enacted their plans to take back what they think is rightfully theirs, which would be rule over the shifter population of Great Britain. Paranoia, of course, will keep the packs from contacting each other or calling for help from the continent.
Next will be the Heirs, with Gillian's being first and Llelwyn being last, again throwing suspicion onto someone else. At this point, the Mort du Loup will swoop in, taking out the last of the packs while, most likely, staging the high profile kills as 'deranged fans' or 'anti-nationalists'. Bing, bang, boom, all of the shifters in Great Britain dead or one the run and they barely had to lift their fingers to have an excuse to do so. Wonderful. So how the hell do we find and stop them?"
"I believe I can help with that," a soft American voice said from by the door. Before Moira turned to look, she watched as Chris's face paled rapidly while Stile's jaw dropped, a look of disbelieving shock coloring his features. Slowly she turned around, seeing the newcomer standing with Iliana and Harry at her back. Harry looked confused while Iliana merely looked resigned.
She was a pretty girl, with long, curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. Looking closely, Moira could see certain resemblances to Chris. A deep breath confirmed that the girl in front of her was, in fact, a shifter, a wereleopard to be exact. Apparently, pretending you were dead was not going out of fashion.
"Allison?" Came the quiet, desperate question from the screen behind them. She smiled sadly, walking forward into the room, completely ignoring the other occupants. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, where a choked-off sob came from. "Hello, daddy. Stiles," she said, eyes constantly looking between their faces as her smile grew.
"How..." Stiles trailed off, unsure or unable to reconcile what he was seeing in front of him.
"The story of how I survived is also the story of how I can help," she said, countenance abruptly changing from sad to serious. "For the past several months, we've been tailing the activities of the Mort du Loup. We've successfully infiltrated their organization and have been working tirelessly to sabotage and stop them from committing the atrocities they have been known to do. For the past year they've been quiet, planning only within the upper echelons of their society. It was only early this morning that our agent was included into the plans, now that they've started one of their biggest maneuvers in decades."
"Okay, okay, wait a second. First of all, who are 'we'? Secondly, how can we trust you? You've been supposedly dead for the last how long and now you show up here, smelling like a leopard, and tell us you have a solution? Forgive me if I seem a little skeptical," Moira said, hands on her hips as she confronted the girl. To her credit she didn't seem fazed at all, most likely expecting the questions.
"To answer your first question, 'we' is an organization founded about a hundred years before the Mort du Loup started terrorizing the continent. We were approached by an...entity, shall we say, who wanted the protection of all supernatural species, and thought that the more progressive members of the hunter community would be the best bet for that. We didn't have a name then, not until the MdL came to be known. Then, we adopted the name Sauveur du Loup, though we still advocate the protection of all innocent supernaturals.
Since then we've been helping many supes from the shadows, most never knowing they were in danger from the MdL in the first place. Secondly, Iliana here was able to infiltrate the society about 10 years ago. She'd been raised to believe in the SdL from both of her parents, who were secret members and infiltrators of the MdL as well. Theron Mortenson, her cousin, was the one who advocated her induction since she acted like she hated shifters with a burning passion, making her a top recruit from the hunter pool.
After the shock of finding out that my grandfather had been manipulating me for his own gain I changed our family motto, as you may know. This brought me to the attention of the SdL, who came to me in secret to recruit me. They thought that I was a perfect candidate to bring their existence to the light of the entire supernatural community as I, being an Argent who openly did not discriminate against supernaturals, was well known throughout the community and they would be more willing to hear us out if I was at the forefront. I was going to join for sure after I went to college, but the events surrounding the nogitsune and my 'death' pushed things forward.
That night I had a feeling that I may die, having noticed Lydia's subconscious behavior towards me. Resigned to my fate, I accepted my death as something that needed to happen to save my friends. However there was a woman, a powerful sorceress who'd been helping us for a while. When I died, she brought me back because she needed to 'maintain the Balance' which was disrupted after Peter Hale resurrected himself. There was a catch, though. The price of that magic was high, and when I came back, I wasn't human anymore. The SdL took me in and had one of their members, another wereleopard like myself, teach me not only control over my new abilities but also about their history and motives.
I was going to come back after I had learned control over myself, but then the MdL made a move in Montreal that showed just how vast their resources and influence spread. Instead of me coming to the light as the SdL spokesperson I had to remain in the shadows, approaching the packs slowly and anonymously. It was made easier by the fact that I was now a shifter and word has started to slowly spread about who we are and the fact that the MdL still exists is becoming known, but not too quickly as to cause a panic.
Our plans were sped up significantly when Iliana contacted our council, informing them that the high brass here were having secret meetings. We've been trying to counter their moves, but as I said before, we didn't have an in until this morning. We know exactly what they're going to do and when. We just need a plan."
There was a long silence, everyone absorbing what Allison had just said. There was still heavy breathing from the speakers, but Argent seemed to have pulled himself together remarkably well.
"Okay. We're going to need all the intel you have on key players and places..."
To face the blackened sky~
Four hours later, the plan was set. Moira walked into the pub, hair up in a tight bun and business suit slightly rumpled. She slumped over the bar, taking off her jacket and glasses and pulling the pins out of her hair, shaking it out. She noted out of the corner of her eye that she'd caught the attention of her target, the weak chink in the MdL's armor.
Carson Steel was a normal looking guy, able to pass by anyone on the street without them remembering him. He had brown hair and brown eyes, an unremarkable face, and a crooked nose. The only parts of him that would inspire recognition were his muscular body and the scar that ran from his left eyebrow to right under his earlobe.
He also had a penchant for gambling, alcohol, and women and was apparently blind to the fact that it was a large weakness of his. Idiot. Moira was chosen because not many people knew what she looked like, and also because she was stunningly gorgeous. It should have been suspicious for as beautiful a woman as her to come to this dingy pub, but. Weakness.
He put a charming smile on his face, which admittedly did brighten him up a little, and slid over the one stool separating them. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Instantly, whatever charm he may have had with that smile disappeared at the awful pick-up line. Moira dutifully curled her lips into a coy smile, turning to lean against the bar and sip at her cheap drink.
"Just looking to unwind a little, I guess," she said airily, fluttering her eye lashes once before turning back to her drink. He chuckled in what he thought was a husky manner, moving a hand to cover hers. "I know a better place than this we can go." Internally, Moira rolled her eyes so hard, but on the outside she turned a sly smile onto him. "Please," was all she said before he was tossing down money onto the counter and pulling her towards the door.
As soon as they were outside and walking around the corner, however, Moira pulled a syringe out of her purse and stuck it in his neck, depressing the plunger quickly.
"Nighty night," she singsonged as he dropped like a bag of rocks. She swiftly hauled him into her arms and into the waiting van. "Any problems?" Uncle Dave asked as she took off the hidden camera and wire from under her shirt. "Seriously?" She asked, side-eyeing him. He raised his hands in surrender, a smirk curling around his lips as she rubbed hand-sanitizer practically up to her elbows, wrinkling her nose at the smell.
Twenty minutes later they reached the warehouse MI5 had provided for this very purpose. They were very good set designers, Moira thought as she deposited the unconscious hunter into the chair and strapped him in. Arrayed around the room were tables filled with ominous looking tools, from a rusty ice pick to what looked like a bone saw. Iliana stood by the door, arms crossed and a disgusted look on her face. Though Moira still didn't quite like the woman, she understood where the previous animosity had come from- the SdL had been working tirelessly for years to stop the MdL and all of a sudden, right when they had a good chance to dismantle the terrorist group, Moira shows up, guns blazing and having no idea what was going on. She shook the thought off, promising to deal with it later. They had more important things to deal with now.
Moira moved over to a dark corner to the left and behind Carson, still unconscious. She gave a slight nod at the hidden camera in the corner, and a light flashed in response. Iliana moved forward with purpose, picking up the smelling salts that would wake Carson up. She waved them under his nose, stepping back as he jerked up with a gasp, eyes spinning wildly around the room before finally settling on her.
"Oh thank God, Iliana. One of those beasts must've got the drop on me. We have to get out of here and tell Theron!" He said, struggling against the bonds that held him to the chair. Instead of saying anything, Iliana clenched her jaw and stepped back. Moira let out a low chuckle as she stepped into his peripheral vision, trailing a hand over the tools on the table beside her. His eyes swung to her, widening in fear and anger, darting back and forth between her and Iliana. Moira ignored him as she paused to caress the blade of a particularly wicked hunting knife before moving on.
She grabbed a chair from the corner, plopping it down in front of him with a loud clang that he flinched at. Sweat had started to pool at the base of his throat, heart jackrabbiting in his ribcage and chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths. She daintily sank into the chair, fidgeting once to get comfortable before staring at him with a blank searching gaze. She remained like that, perfectly still while his eyes flickered from her to Iliana, still at her back.
"Iliana," he started before he was cut off. "Carson Steel, 36, born in Lexington, Kentucky. Parents killed in an animal attack when you were 12 on a hunting trip. You were taken in by Kirk and Helsa Mortenson, who took you with them when they moved back to Norway and then to England in 1992. Brotherly relationship with Theron Mortenson, 38, whom you admire and look up to. Admitted early on to the Mort du Loup terrorist organization, who advocate the deaths of all shifters and those who support them or carry the gene. Did I miss anything?" Moira extolled in a bored tone of voice, looking at her fingernails as she did so.
Carson had grown paler and paler during her little speech, looking accusingly towards Iliana, but he seemed to swell with righteous fury when she said that last sentence.
"How dare you, filth, talk about something you know nothing about! The lowly beasts and their ilk should be eradicated, devil spawn as they are!" By this point, he was practically frothing at the mouth, chest heaving and muscles bulging in his attempt to presumably strangle her. "And how dare you, Iliana, consort with the very creatures you swore to destroy! Filthy dog whore, spreading your legs for the first animal to come panting after you! I always wondered why you hadn't given yourself to me before, when all this time you've been fucking a pack of flea-bitten-"
A resounding slap echoed across the room, leading into a stinging silence. Four horizontal slashes marked his cheek from the claws that had slid out from Moira's fingertips without her notice. She'd stood up at some point, eyes flaring a dangerously cold red as she stared down at him in quiet fury.
"You think you're so much better than us, when you talk about a human woman as if she's a piece of meat, like she's property to be won or conquered, like you deserve to have her just because you have a penis and she does not. You are completely at my mercy and you dare to spew such vile vitriol? Are you really so convinced of your superiority that even here, strapped down like a lamb for slaughter, you think yourself better?" Moira asked evenly, calmly, which seemed to leech his resolve from him as he sunk back into the chair. Just then, a piercing wail echoed through the room, followed by a high-pitched scream only seconds later. His eyes widened as they darted over to the door and then back to Moira, who had a satisfied look on her face.
"As you can see, Carson, I can call you Carson, right? As you can see, we have another compatriot of yours, a beautiful young thing named Adair. You know her, right? Blonde hair, blue eyes, about this tall?" She said, indicating with her hand a height a couple of inches taller than herself. His eyes widened in shock and horror. Adair Mortenson was Theron's younger sister, who according to Iliana had no idea what her brother and parents got up to. She was aware of the supernatural, yes, but Iliana had told them that she had a strong moral compass and the belief that only the guilty ones should be punished, not even with death unless necessary. The Mortenson's were making their move now because when Adair became the Matriarch, which would be soon, she would never allow this sort of thing to happen.
Iliana had also told them that Carson loved her, which was very much unrequited, so Carson protected her fiercely and loyally regardless of the fact that he didn't share the same beliefs about shifters as she did.
"You leave her alone! She doesn't know anything about this!" He shouted, eyes closing in anguish as another feminine scream echoed from another part of the warehouse. "I'll tell you anything you want, but she doesn't know anything! STOP HURTING HER!"
Moira smirked in victory, nodding at Iliana who walked to the door and made an obvious signal. The screams stopped, trailing off into loud sobbing. Of course, they didn't really have Adair. It was all from a recording, and the banging sounds were made by Ben and Tom, happily clanging things together and making noise.
It didn't take long for him to spill everything, from where their bases were to where Luke Windsor was being held. He did tell them that the other three liasons had been murdered, their bodies dropped into the Thames with heavy cinder blocks attached so they wouldn't wash up and be identified. When he stopped, breath heaving and tears mixing with sweat, the lights came up all the way and the door opened, admitting the team of specially trained MI5.
"Wh-what's this? Where's Adair?" He asked, looking tiredly between the agents and Moira.
"Oh, this? This is just the team of highly trained agents here to take you to a very remote prison for the rest of your life. And we never had or tortured Adair, or anyone. We're not savages," Moira replied, devious smile on her face. "Thanks so much for the info, Carson! Maybe I'll come see you in, oh, 50 years or so."
It was satisfying to hear the wordless sound of rage emit from the zealot as he was led away.
You will see your beauty every moment that you rise~
The actual take-down was far less thrilling than Moira thought it'd be.
The Mort du Loup's base of operations was, quite idiotically, the Mortenson's home. It was a sprawling structure on the outskirts of London, with many hidden rooms and passages not on the original schematics, but Iliana and Carson's intel was more than enough to navigate it safely.
That said, none of the shifters were allowed to enter the building as it was layered in traps that would prove fatal to any of them who entered. The agents were well protected with their body armor and helmets, and though wolfsbane and nightshade were deadly to humans as well, the emissaries of the Carlton and the Royal packs were on standby with remedies for everything they could possibly come up against.
The shifters were not just standing about doing nothing, though. They were stationed at the exits of the hidden passageways, there to subdue anyone who tried to escape. As Iliana and Carson had told them, there was a massive meeting going on tonight with everyone on the island in attendance, as well as some key figures from the mainland.
Moira, Ben and Tom watched from the bushes lining the road as the last of the cars parked. The occupants were all laughing and joking, in high spirits as they believed they had succeeded in the first part of their plan. As the door was closed behind them, a subsonic whistle echoed out, unable to be heard by humans but very clear to the shifters. The three slid into place, Ben and Tom on either side to box them in and Moira at the choke point, ready to swiftly take them out.
The bang of a flash grenade echoed through the night, confused and then angered yelling coming from the house. Gunfire pattered into the still winter air, and the sounds of running feet echoed in the sensitive ears of the shifters present. The door in front of them flew open, 6 people exiting in a somewhat cohesive unit. Only the one at the back had a gun, and by the time he'd raised it to fire it was already gone, clattering on the cobblestones 20 feet away. There was only a flurry of low snarls and the sounds of fists impacting flesh, and then unconscious bodies hitting the ground. Moira tossed zip ties to the other two and made quick work of restraining them and systematically searching them for weapons, which they tossed into a steadily growing pile.
Soon enough, the gunfire stopped and only the yelling remained, though this time it was the sound of the agents yelling for people to get on the ground and that they were under arrest. A squad of agents swept out of the door and took the zip-tied hunters into their custody, dragging them around the front where there were ambulances and police vehicles all with their lights on.
Only a few had been injured, mostly hunters but several MI5 as well. The injuries were nothing more than scrapes and bruises, though one agent had been grazed by a bullet and was currently being tended to by an EMS and Sorcha Hastings.
Off to one side Iliana was talking lowly with Adair, who suddenly broke down into tears and collapsed into her cousin's arms. Moira looked away; she didn't even want to imagine how the poor girl must feel, to know that her parents and brother were bigger monsters than the ones they hunted.
Moira turned instead to the line of people restrained in a line, some conscious, some not. She was scanning faces when she noticed something that chilled her to her bones.
"Iliana, where's Theron?"
Before the question was even fully out of her mouth the sharp rapport of gunfire sounded behind her. When she turned, everything seemed to be in slow motion- she saw the horrified look on her Uncle Dave's face, Ben turning white as a ghost with a spatter of red on his cheek, Tom lunging forward towards her in a panic. She saw the angry face of Theron, gun still raised and his look of satisfaction.
It took her a moment longer to feel the pain, like fire ants crawling under her skin from her back and spreading to her front. She looked down, noticed the slow spread of blood underneath her blue shirt, turning it a purplish-black that looked macabre to her.
A high-pitched wail broke out in the night, startling the frozen spectators into action. Moira collapsed to her knees, the cobblestone driveway getting larger in her vision as she fell forward. Suddenly, a swirl of black fabric flickered in front of her as strong, feminine hands grabbed her roughly under her arms. The action jolted her wound, causing her to cry out in agony and lift her eyes to see who it was. The last thing she saw before everything went black was a flash of red hair, pale skin and cold forest green eyes.