A big Thanks to all the great reviews for the first chapter! And to everyone who faved/ added the story to their list! Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, I'm writing it and my other story at the same time ^^;
Anyway~ Enjoy!
Ichigo huffed out a sigh, the noise sounding much louder in the quiet of the room around him. He and Shiro had made a trip to town, needing to pick up a few things. He took full advantage of the trip and rationalized that he might as well make a stop at the library while they were there. It had been a couple weeks since their encounter with the wolves and the man in the Forest, but he had yet to rid his mind of vivid, expressive eyes.
The orange haired man wanted to walk out into the Forest and search out the creature, but, as his brother had pointed out, he couldn't be sure that the werecat wouldn't attack him this time. Or that the werewolves wouldn't be around again, or any host of other creatures, for that matter. It was just too dangerous, especially this time of year.
Standing up, Ichigo walked around the aisle of shelving he had been pouring through for almost an hour and headed deeper into the small, public library.
So far, all he had been able to find on the matter were a few old fairy tails about werepanthers, only one of them had mentioned La Pantera. All the page had said was that La Pantera was an ancient myth, that it was commonly told to be male in the tales, even though the word was feminine. A lot of good that did him, it was knowledge he already possessed.
Brushing orange locks from his face, he scanned the shelving, taking note of how dusty and worn most of the tomes in this section were. No one in this village cared to go through these books, most probably didn't even know they had a mythology section in the back of the library. Half the citizens even refused to believe in the werewolves and other creatures that lurked the Forest, no matter the evidence.
His fingertips brushed past a title that intrigued him. Intricate, silver script was inlayed on the leather bind, the edges faded and worn, leaving only indentations of the printing behind. The words were in a different language, and though he couldn't make out what it said, it had the same sound as the topic he was hoping to find.
Lightly tanned fingers curled around the top edge of the book, pulling it from the shelf. Ichigo plopped down on the floor, his back to the shelf, and opened the cover in his lap. Flipping the pages to what he assumed to be the glossary, he trailed his fingers lightly down the thick, vellum page, scanning the chapters and contents of the book. A little over half way through the second column, he halted his finger just below what he was looking for; La Pantera. Quickly glancing at the page number, Ichigo dove into the book, easily finding the correct chapter.
Scanning through the paragraphs, he found very little that he could read. Most of it was in the same language as the title, but he was able to pick up on enough of it to hold his attention. He studied a few of the drawings in the book, standing from his spot on the floor as he did so.
Ichigo, nose still buried in the book, made his way back toward the front of the library, ignoring the whispers and murmurs from the small group of visitors that were seated in plush chairs arranged around a coffee table. He knew the hushed conversation to be about him, but had grown used to the unwanted attention by now. It had been over a decade since the accident, and almost exactly ten years since he had brought back Shiro, yet the people of the village couldn't let the rumors and stories die, couldn't let he and his brother live in peace.
Reaching the front desk, a woman with strawberry blond hair, held back with a couple of blue, flower shaped clips, smiled brightly at him.
Inoue Orihime was one of the few citizens of the little village that didn't treat him with suspicion and malice. She was a little annoying, and way to happy, but she was nice enough and always had others best interests at heart. Though she was a bit wary of him, she was also one of the few that treated his brother like a human, which made her ok in Ichigo's book. Too many treated Shiro like some sort of monster, like the same creatures that pillaged the village and killed trespassers of the Forest.
Inoue's excited trill snapped him back to reality. "Hello, Kurosaki, Sir! I haven't seen you around town much lately." She stated with a smile.
Ichigo smiled politely back at her. "Yeah, you know how things are around here." He said, sounding a little awkward, and placed the book on the counter with a thump, drawing her attention to it and effectively shifting the conversation. The slightly ditzy woman never understood that the rest of the village didn't like him and his brother, and he had long since tired of explaining it to her.
"Doing some research?" the woman asked, picking up the book and pulling a paper out of a drawer in her desk. She glanced down at the title. "Mitos y Leyendas." She read out loud. "I didn't know you could read Spanish."
"Uhh... I can't really, just a few words. Do you know it?" He asked, hoping the woman could help him translate. Ichigo shifted his weight to his left foot as whispers erupted anew from the small group of people sitting around the coffee table.
Standing from her seat behind the desk, Inoue handed him the paper to fill out and hummed a bit. "Hmm... No, but there's a Spanish dictionary around here somewhere, you can borrow that as well if you like." She said with a cheerful smile as she rounded the desk and headed toward a different section of the library.
It only took her a few moments to locate the book. Orihime returned, stacking it on top of the larger, leather bound book and took the filled out form from Ichigo. She added the dictionary's title to his list and filed the sheet away. "Neither of these books are checked out very often, so I'm not giving you a time limit" She said, looking up at him with a friendly smile. "And I know you'll take good care of them, so just return them whenever your done."
Ichigo grabbed up his small stack of books, hugging them to his chest. He gave the girl a small smile, thanking her before turning to leave, brushing off the stares that followed him.
Exiting the large, double doors of the library, he gave a relieved sigh to see a hooded figure in a dark cloak sitting on one of the wooden benches outside.
His arms were stretched out, thrown across the back of the bench, long, lean legs stretched out in front of him. The figure's head was lowered, hood pulled forward to hide his face, but there was no mistaking him for anyone else. The orange haired male had half expected Shiro to run off or attempt to procure the rest of their needed items on his own. His pale copy usually got himself into trouble when he was left to his own devises in the town.
As if hearing his twin's thoughts, Shirosaki stood, stretching his pale arms above his head for a moment before turning to Ichigo. "Tch. Took ya long enough." He mumbled, tongue poking out to toy with a very new silver hoop that rested in the center of his bottom lip.
Ichigo grimaced slightly, noticing the slightly irritated looking skin directly around the piercing. He was positive Shiro hadn't had his lip pierced yesterday. "Did you do that while sitting here?" He questioned, leaning forward a bit to get a closer look.
"Got bored." Shiro said with a shrug, pale hands tugging the hood to his cloak back in place. Most people still recognized him as Ichi's other half, but they seemed to run into fewer confrontations when his ghostly features were hidden, and for King's sake, he did his best to keep his appearance from passersby.
The orange haired man made a face at his brother and reached out to grab the albino's hand. "Lets hurry and finish up so we can get outta here." Ichigo tugged Shiro down the stairs of the library and into the street.
••••••
Dark nostrils flared as the feline took in the scents that still lingered around the little clearing. He curled his lip a bit, the tip of a white fang peeking out on one side as the smell of decaying wolf meat assaulted his senses. Natural predators and scavengers wouldn't touch a werewolf carcass, slowing the process by which the earth usually disposed of a body. They would still be here when the first snows hit.
"Should'a made Starrk clean this shit up." He grumbled to himself, stepping over a withered body. He looked down and bared his teeth in a mocking gesture at the dead mutt, tail flicking back and forth in irritated, jerking movements.
A few, quick steps took him to the edge of the glade. Stepping back into the forest, the werepanther lifted his snout to test the air again. A slight smile curled onto black lips as he detected what he was looking for through the smell of decay and rot. The two humans had such a distinct scent, it would be impossible for him to miss it.
He clutched the small jar tightly in left hand, taking off at a long, loping pace. Grimmjow let his blue eyes and keen ears swivel about, monitoring the forest around him as he followed the trail.
Lean, feline legs propelled him through the thick underbrush as silently as the morning breeze, long strides devouring miles in mere minutes. He jumped a small stream, just a trickle of water really, an off shoot from the larger one that ran through the middle of his territory.
Landing in a ready crouch on the other side, the werecat paused, scanning the forest as he did so. The smell of the humans had grown thicker, another scent now evident mingled with it in the air. Lifting his keen nose, Grimmjow let out a deep rumbling. It was a familiar scent, the tell tale spicy smell of magic. More specifically, it was the same, unique kind that the two humans seemed to use, the kind that permeated the pale one and originally peaked his curiosity. As he took in the scent, he realized what was off about it. It still had the spicy, tingling smell of most magic, but something else mingled with it, tainted it. Something cold.
Padding forward on silent feet, the werepanther stalked to a clearing in the forest. This one was much larger than the one he had first scene the humans in, the small glade with the dead wolves. Parting the branches around him, the feline took in the sight before him as he stepped through the tree line.
Dominating the center was a large building. The house stood three stories tall, and Grimmjow guessed there to be a basement as well. The walls were made of a heavy, grey stone, making it look like a small castle rather than a house for two.
An out building was attached to one side, probably the stable and garage, though he didn't know if these two would own a vehicle. A set of grey, shot with purple, marble stairs led to a wrap around porch and the front door. He wandered what two, young men could possibly need so much space for.
Taking another step forward, only about thirty meters from the building now, Grimmjow continued to study the large home and the surrounding area. There were no obvious fences or defense systems set up. No guards rushed to greet him, nor did the sounds of barking, attack dogs shatter the silence. He continued to take cautious, silent steps toward the building, all the while looking and listening for any signs that he had been noticed.
The feline jumped back, letting out an angry hiss as the air crackled with energy around him. The orange haired male was a Caster, he should have known it would be a magical seal.
Either it didn't work properly, or the two men weren't home. He waited for the rush of people, alarms, even just the pale man and his gun, but nothing happened.
The scent of the resounding magical vibrations had him thinking the later. These two seemed to know what they were doing. He hardly believed that a seal strong enough to harm him didn't work properly.
Having no desire to test the strength of the barrier, Grimmjow crouched down, muscles rippling beneath shinning, black fur, and contemplated what to do. Reaching a clawed hand out in front of him, the feline ran his nails across the invisible barrier. He watched the rippling effect of his motions, quiet popping sounds reaching his ears.
When nothing else happened, he pressed his palm flat against the surface, pushing at the magical seal. Hissing a breath through elongated fangs, he jerked his hand away when electricity shot through his arm, reaching his shoulder in an unpleasant, tingling wave. The Caster really was a strong one. It was increasingly rare to find a gifted human strong enough to produce something magical that could even give him pause, let alone halt him all together.
Growling, he stood and paced the edge for a few minutes, trying to figure a way around it. Grimmjow circled the house, checking the barrier in random locations. Every place he touched resulted in the same electrical repulsion, but he wasn't one to give up so easily. The humans had to be able to get through their barrier somehow, and he couldn't imagine the Caster removing and replacing the seal every time they came and went.
Smiling to himself, the werepanther released his resurrection to veer into his human body. Sleek, blue black fur gave way to sun kissed, golden skin. The once panther stretched muscled arms over his head, rising to his toes as he made his way around the barrier, tanned fingers still wrapped around the little, glass jar. Nearing the side that was closest to the house, he ran a tanned hand through unruly, blue locks before reaching tentatively toward the seal.
The air rippled slightly around his out stretched fingers, but a faint tingling sensation in his finger tips was all that assaulted him, nothing like the painful shock while in his other form. A released a held breath, smirk stretched across his face as he took a step forward, pushing through the barrier with little resistance. Reaching the other end of the invisible fence, a shiver racked his spine as he left the magically charged section.
Padding carefully and quietly, he crossed the grassy yard. The sun warmed, marble steps were slightly rough against his bare feet, but, being used to the forest floor, he hardly noticed as he reached the door. Pressing against the heavy, wooden portal, he listened to the slight groan as the wood protested against the lock.
Growling, Grimmjow stepped back and contemplated breaking the door down. That would be the quickest, easiest route, and he just about gave in to the temptation. But that would alert the humans to his presence much quicker than he wanted. He enjoyed a show of brute strength and force every now and then, but he could also be silent and stealthy when it was called for.
Thinking better of destroying the door, he gave another frustrated growl and walked around the porch to the first window he came across.
The weather was still mild and the window was cracked open a couple inches to let the cool air from the night before in. Pulling the screen from it's place, he set it down on the wooden planks of the porch. Setting the jar next to it, he curled long fingers around the bottom edge of the window, giving a light, upward push. The window slid up another inch before halting, jammed on the window locks meant to keep it from opening far enough for someone to slip in.
Smiling to himself, Grimmjow shoved upward, the muscles in his arms flexing. The plastic, peg like locks creaked at the added pressure before snapping. The window flew open to bang against the top sill, shuddering slightly in it's frame.
The panther-turned man gave a devilish smirk and bent to retrieve the glass jar, the contents clinking together as he gave it a twirl. He stuck his head through the opened window, peeking around to be sure that no one was around. After a few moments of taking in the sounds, smells and layout of the room around him, Grimmjow climbed through. Landing with a quiet thump on the dark, tiled floor, the man crouched and continued listening to the sounds of the house. Nothing out of place met his senses.
He had entered into a sitting room of sorts, several high backed, plush, wine colored chairs were arranged to face a large, intricate fire place made from rough, blackened stone and wrought iron. The mantle above the fire place held several candles of different colors and sizes, some ornamental, others for rituals. In the center, a large, bleached werewolf scull smiled back at him.
The center of the room was dominated by a soft, light colored rug, off setting the deep coloring of the tile around the room. To his left, a door way opened up into what looked like a winding hall way. Directly in front of him was another door, this one more elaborately decorated. Intricately carved trim framed the portal, the high, arching style nearly reaching the ceiling. A double hinged, swinging door of a reddish hue blocked his view of the room on the other side.
Grimmjow picked his way through the furniture, toward the arched door way on the other side of the large room. Pushing the door with his fingertips, he opened it and stepped through. The door swung on it's hinges a few times before coming to a rest as he peered around the new room. A kitchen greeted him, a stainless steel cooking range and sink on one side, island with stools on the other. Another door way opened up back into the hall way.
The blue haired man sniffed the air a bit before exiting the room into the hallway. The walls were lined with photos, most rested in plain, black frames against the light colored walls. A few had more elaborate frames, these ones held pictures of many people while the others were mostly of the two humans he had seen in the forest. Grimmjow studied the images and surmised them to family members and friends, he also noted that the pale one seemed to have a bit more color in the older photos, where the boys were younger.
An elaborate, golden hued frame caught his attention, a few feet down the hall. It was the largest of the pictures and showed the two humans, mere children at the time, surrounded by an older man and woman, two small, twin girls clutching their older brothers' hands. The sky in the background was slightly over cast, but the smiles on everyone's faces brightened the mood of the picture. Both of the young men in the photo had bright, fiery orange hair, obviously inherited from the mother, and Grimmjow wondered why only one of them sported the vibrant color now.
As the werepanther continued studying the pictures on the walls, the faint click of a latch reached his keen ears. Head whipping around toward the sound, Grimmjow perked his ears and listened intently. The front door could be heard creaking open, nearly soundlessly.
"Think yer crazy, King." A watery voice broke the quiet and sent Grimmjow scurrying out of the hall way, back into the kitchen. He listened to the voices approaching. It was obvious they didn't know he was there and he silently slipped into the room he had originally entered. He put his hand to the door, halting it's motion and moved to crouch beside the door way that lead to the hall, using the wall as cover. He watched the men walk past the door way.
"You're probably right" The reply was mumbled, but a smile was evident in the voice. The were panther listened as the two humans entered the kitchen area, opening a few cupboards and drawers as they shuffled around the room.
Grimmjow took this as his cue to leave, placing the glass jar above the fire place, amongst the candles, he padded back to the opened window and silently climbed out. Once outside, he grabbed the bottom edge of the window and pulled it shut behind him, leaving it just a few inches open. Placing the screen back against the window, he took off across the yard, careful to avoid the side of the house that would leave him visible to the men in their kitchen.
He veered back into his panther form once on the other side of the barrier and was gone, a sly smile marring his feline features.
••••••
Ichigo laughed as his brother continued ranting about the "stupidity of civilization". The pale man had a point, but it was humorous all the same. Shiro was used to how the village citizens treated him, but it never failed to anger the man.
As they were leaving town, Shiro had unwittingly scared a young girl. The kid had been staring at him and when he turned, she was graced with a better view of his features.
Of course, when she cowered in her mother's arms and buried her face, the mother had gotten angry and offended. The woman had started berating them for scaring her little girl, unrationally angry and more than likely recognizing who the two men were, already not liking them. Shirosaki had solved the problem by dropping his hood back, shaking his ashen hair out a bit and giving the woman a sneering smile, gold on black eyes shining, that sent her scurrying away. He had refused to raise the hood again, and they left the village, dozens of people glaring and whispering behind them.
He had been fuming ever since. Ichigo felt bad for his twin sometimes. At least he could pass as normal, Shiro would never be able to and so he didn't bother to try. Shirosaki was stronger than he was, in Ichigo's mind, to be able to deal with that sort of treatment and still embrace who and what he was.
The orange head dropped a paper bag onto the tiled floor beside the island in their kitchen area. Setting another bag on the counter, he grabbed his borrowed books from under the crook of his arm and made to set them next to the bag.
He paused, his arm out stretched, books still in hand. He took a sharp intake of air, a small gasp falling from his lips. His orange brows furrowed into a frown as he concentrated on what had snagged at his awareness, small ripples of magic playing in his mind.
His pale copy turned away from an opened cupboard to look at him. "Wha's wrong, King?" He asked, lifting a snowy brow as he observed his master and companion, his rant and anger forgotten.
Ichigo shook his head lightly and rested the books on the counter. "Nothing." He mumbled, stepping toward the bag. He reached in, digging around a little and started pulling it's contents out to lay on the counter. "Just felt like something disturbed the barrier for a second."
Shirosaki leaned over the sink a bit and pulled the airy curtains away from the small window, peering though and out into the surrounding yard and forest edge.
"It was on the other side of the house, but its gone now." Ichigo explained, watching as his brother dropped his cloak to the ground in a whoosh of fabric and pulled is silver plated gun from it's holster. "I really don't think it's anything to worry about."
"Well, I'm ganna check anyway." The paler of the two said, stepping out of the room, his heavy, leather boots thudding down the hall.
Shiro had always been the more paranoid of the two, Ichigo watched him leave the room. Sighing to himself, he continued the task before him and started putting things away.
He returned several minutes later, holstering his gun under his arm. Leaning against the counter, Shiro watched King sort things out for a moment before bending to pick up his forgotten cloak and drape it over one of the stools at the island bar.
"Find anything?" Ichi asked, not looking from his task of putting things away properly.
"Nah" Was Shiro's short reply.
Ichigo shrugged. "It was rather faint, kind of like a person's."
Shiro gave a hum of acknowledgement, crossing his arms over his chest. "Comin' or goin'?"
The orange haired man paused, thinking and debating a bit. It was always a little tough to tell when it was something so faint. "Leaving, I'm fairly sure." He answered, closing a cupboard and heading toward the sitting room to relax a bit. "Probably just some nosey kid."
"Kids lucky I didn't catch 'im then." Shiro huffed out under his breath, following after his twin. He grabbed the books off the counter as he went, knowing Ichigo would stand up as soon as he sat down and got comfortable to come get them anyway.
He walked through the swinging door just as Ichi sat in his favorite chair. His King leaned back in the plush, richly colored chair, giving a relaxed sigh. Shiro dropped the books in his lap as he took his seat to the right of the orange haired man. Smiling at the surprised grunt from the man next to him, he leaned forward and began unbuckling his black, all terrain boots. They reached to the middle of his calf and were great for out in the Forest, the thick leather making them nearly water proof as well as incredibly sturdy, but still light enough as to not hinder his movement or speed. They had four buckles running up the outside of each boot, no laces to mess with, which made them much quicker to put on or take off.
Dropping the boots to the floor with a dull thunk, Shiro leaned back in his chair, arms out stretched and resting on the arm rests. Beside him, Ichigo was already lost in his books. The older, leather bound one resting, opened, in his lap while he flipped pages in the smaller book.
The albino grunted and stood from his chair, crossing the room to exit into the hall way. Turning left, he made is way further into their large house. At the very end of the hall, he pushed the door to the Master's study and crossed the dark room to the desk. Using the light from the opened door, Shiro rifled through the drawers until he found what he had been looking for. Grabbing up the note book and pen, he left the study, closing the door behind him and went back to the sitting room he had left Ichigo in. He would be surprised if the orange head even noticed his departure.
Shaking his head a bit, a small, crooked grin splitting his face, the pale man came to a halt in front of Ichigo. Orange brows were pulled together in deep concentration as he looked from one book to the other. Ichigo was intelligent, but it would be tough to memorize what you were translating, even for him. Writing it down would make keeping track of it much easier.
Shiro dropped the note book and pen in the man's lap. "Need ta work on yer common sense, King" The albino stated.
Ichigo looked up at him with a sheepish smile, opening the note book to a blank page. "Thanks" he mumbled, going back to the task at hand.
His brother snorted and dropped back into his chair, pulling his favorite gun from it's holster. He pulled a cloth out of a small drawer on the end table and removed the clip from his hand gun. Shiro began taking the weapon apart, wiping down and setting the pieces on the end table that sat between them. "So wha's in the jar?" He asked, setting another piece down and glancing at King out of the corner of his golden eye.
Ichigo furrowed his brow a bit and looked across the room to the jar that sat on the top of their fire place mantle. He hadn't noticed it when he first entered the room, it was surrounded by a few other random ornaments. It had caught his attention when Shirosaki had left the room, the glint from the light playing across it when his brother moved had drew his gaze. "I assumed it was yours." He said, looking back to his book.
Shiro raised a single, snowy brow and looked at his copy. "Wait. So it aint yers?" He asked, halting what he was doing and placing the broken down hand gun on the end table.
The orange haired one hesitated, looking up at his twin. "...no... I've never seen it before..." He slowly closed his books, marking the pages with a torn strip of paper, and set them on the tiled floor. A lot of his random items, used for his spells, seals or whatever other magical uses, were kept in jars, but this one wasn't his, nor was it familiar to him.
Shirosaki stood from his chair and crossed the room, carefully picking up the small, glass jar. Something metallic clinked around inside and he lifted it up to get a closer look. Ashen brows drew together in a frown before shooting up, a look of surprise crossing his features. He studied the objects in the jar, swirling them around a bit before lowering his hand and tossing the jar to Ichigo, who had just stood from his own chair.
The orange head caught the jar in his hands, shooting his brother a slightly annoyed glare before lifting the object to look inside.
A flattened, miss shaped, silver slug rested in the bottom of the jar, a few slivers of the broken shell scattered around it. Traces of dried blood crusted the grooves and scratches in the silver, as well as speckling the inside of the jar. Raising his gaze to look back at Shiro, he gave his twin a curious look. "I though you said this wasn't yours, it looks like one of your bullets." He said, glancing back at the bullet.
Shiro made his own molds and poured his own silver to make his bullets. Each one was unique to him and marked with a small group of distinctive, rotating slash marks that were built into the mold. The marks acted as a signature, making it easy to identify his ammo verses someone else's. This bullet had obviously been fired from his gun and, from the looks of it, hit it's mark.
"Oh, it's one a my slugs. But I haven't been out retrieving any a the ones I shot." He stared back at Ichigo, a dark look flashing through his inverted eyes.
Orange brows drew together again as Ichigo tried to figure out how the bullet had gotten there. The tug on his barrier less than an hour ago crossed his mind. They figured it to be just be some punk trying to cause trouble, but how would a person get a hold of one of Shiro's bullets? And why would they sneak in just to put it back? There was also the fact that the shell had already been fired. No person in their right mind would dig through a werewolf carcass to steal a silver bullet, let alone go out into the forest to find it.
He watched his twin begin reassembling the hand gun. It only took him a few seconds to complete and he was sliding the loaded clip back into place.
Ichigo looked back to the bullet and a flash of brilliant, blue eyes flashed through his memory. He glanced at the books sitting on the floor before looking back to Shiro, his cocoa eyes widening slightly. Weeks ago, they had watched the werepanther dig the shell from his arm...
There was no other explanation.
"How... how did he get through the seal?" Ichigo asked, more to himself than his brother. He set the jar down, pushing a tanned hand through his shoulder length, orange locks as he thought. The tug on his barrier had almost felt human. "Help from another person?" He mumbled out loud, slowly pacing the length of the room while he racked his brain. It had him worried that a creature from the Forest was able to slip his magical seal so easily, not to mention get into their home.
"No..." He said a little louder, eyes widening as he looked up at his twin. It had felt almost human. "Of course. All he had to do was relinquish that panther form...and turn man..."
Beside him, Shiro snarled.
Little bit of a cliff hanger, hope no one minds too much...
Soo... What do you guys think? Let me know!
Oh, and happy birthday to me XD