I don't own Doyle, Drew, Van Rook, the grey demons, or the Secret Saturdays.
Or Doyle, Drew, Van Rook, or the grey hunters. In whatever fashion any of them manage to show.
I do own Aeron, Anzu, the farmer and his family...and Aeron, the farmer, and his family.
Another "recycle theories into original fiction" chapter.
I have a couple of original stories that involve travel between different universes, and while those stories have not yet addressed the concern about doubles, I'm interested in learning what people think of my "rules" on the subject.
And my rules (vague as they're presented) on shape-shifting (or spirit-walking, in Doyle's case), as well, as incomplete as they are, as yet.
Um...this chapter splits a little between the two worlds. The sections are as follows:
Monday
Saturday
Saturday
Monday
Saturday
And I finally say straight out what the creature was, so if there's anybody who hasn't bothered to guess....
(I'm pretty sure I never actually named the thing in the other chapters.)
The Hunted
"Doyle, no!" Anzu flew at the pup, trying to drive him away from the humans. "Leave them!"
But I'm hungry, the pup whined.
"Then go chase a deer, or something. Don't you dare touch the humans."
Don't want a deer! The boy-pup's "voice" sounded disdainful of the idea. I want the two-leggers!
It was difficult. Even as a spirit, the boy needed food; his human instincts insisted on it, and the pup's instincts told him these humans were prey. And every minute he spent in this form, the more his human thoughts became entrenched in the pup's mind. Anzu could no longer tell which thoughts were the beast's and which the boy's, even when those thoughts turned in this direction.
If Anzu could coax him into a different shape, he might salvage the child's sanity, but the boy did not yet have the experience to change to a less familiar shape. This creature was already far too familiar to the boy's mind; the longer he stayed this way, the more familiar it would become, the more difficult to become anything else.
"Doyle, listen to me," the birdman pleaded. "You used to want to catch a deer. Don't you remember?" Technically, Anzu had only seen that thought in the other Doyle's mind, but if they were similar enough.... "You'd watch the wolves hunt; you longed to join them, to go after such prey. Now you can. You don't even need to wait for the pack. You could go catch a deer all on your own."
The pup snarled, looked at Anzu in some confusion, shook his head, and snarled again. But he finally assented, and slunk back into the trees. He didn't care about that memory, but he accepted that Anzu would not let him hunt the two-leggers.
It didn't help that some part of Anzu wanted the pup to hunt them. Not the girl, of course; not Doyle's sister, nor the older mercenary. But those monsters that had tried to hurt the girl...or Aeron....
For not everyone was different from one world to the next, and even the gods could not predict why they would change, or how. Most of the people Doyle had encountered since the storm had behaved the same in each world; likewise with the girl. Doyle, himself, had been near identical, until this accident of timing had trapped this one in the form and mind of a man-eater. Such a shame that he'd also been identical in the trust he'd held for his parents.
This world's version of Van Rook was certainly ruthless—he had to be, to have survived with this world's Jonathon Blackwell for a master—but he was also like his double in that he genuinely cared about his own family, and about the children of that master. But for all his intelligence and ruthlessness, in both these worlds, and likely others, his grief, his belief that Aeron was all that was left of his family, blinded the mercenary to the monster lurking behind that human face. Aeron had manipulated that blindness far too often in both worlds.
Anzu shuddered. These two versions of that monster were entirely too similar. The key difference was that this Aeron had not needed Anzu's "help" to poison Doyle that time. Small miracle that his own masters, those grey hunters, were also ruthless, and had thoroughly intimidated him into avoiding the child.
The grey hunters.... There was a key difference that seemed to make no difference. The grey hunters were as pure in intent in one world as the grey demons were corrupt in the other. Yet their methods, their obsession with secrecy, made them suspect in any world. Those mortals who'd thought to protect Doyle had viewed them as a threat in both cases.
And while Anzu had fought to keep the grey demons from taking Doyle in one world, he was unable to prevent Doyle in the other from running away from the grey hunters.
—
"Is it after us?" Aeron said into his radio.
"Why don't you go ask it?" Van Rook replied. "I'm not looking."
"I'm serious, boss; we need to set down, soon!"
Van Rook started swearing.
Aeron shook his head. "We burned off a lot of fuel getting this girl. I figure we got maybe a few miles left in the tanks, yet. So unless you know where we're going...."
Van Rook searched for a few more choice words. They didn't just need to land; they needed shelter, but the little farms they passed over would be too small if that beast came after them. Then he spotted a cluster of buildings in the distance. "There!" He angled down towards the farm complex.
They landed and immediately began searching for a way in.
The creature roared in the distance.
Aeron cringed. "Please tell me that thing's just got a big set of lungs," he said, "because that sounded way too close." He glanced over to see Van Rook kicking at the side of the house. "What are you doing?"
"There's doors here," Van Rook replied. "A storm cellar, maybe." He laid Drew down and knelt to examine the doors.
Aeron nodded and knelt to help him dig.
Every time the creature made a noise, they froze and stared around them, hardly daring to breathe lest it hear them. But they eventually managed to uncover one door.
Aeron grabbed the handle and tugged, but it did not budge. "Damn! Probably locked from the inside."
He aimed his wrist blaster, but Van Rook slapped his arm away. "Idiot! You shoot the thing open, then it gives no protection." He looked over the condition of the door, and tried to push his fingers in the crack between the two. "It's old; looks like it hasn't been used in centuries. Might be rusted shut. Keep pulling."
Aeron glowered at the older mercenary, but tried again. He tugged until they heard a click. He wiped his hands on his pants, grasped the handle again, and pulled—
And fell over backwards as the door flung open.
A man came out of the open cellar, pointing a rifle at the mercenaries. "What do you want?" he growled. A voice came from within the cellar. "It ain't the beast," the gunman called down, "it's a couple of people trying to break in."
"Please," Van Rook said. "The girl...she has been attacked. We need shelter."
The gunman glanced at where Drew lay, then returned to glaring at the mercenaries. He opened his mouth to reply, when the beast roared again. The two mercenaries jumped; the creature sounded much closer.
The gunman nodded at them, his eyes wide. "Get inside," he said.
Van Rook picked Drew back up and the two mercenaries climbed inside. The gunman flipped the door closed and locked it behind them.
"Rusted shut, huh?" the gunman said.
Van Rook turned to look at the very solid, very clean door. He lifted one eyebrow. "Pretty good shape, for looking so old."
"I find it deters thieves, and...." The creature roared outside again. "Other things," the gunman continued in a whisper.
The gunman's wife directed Van Rook to a cot where he could lay Drew down.
"What is that thing?" Aeron asked.
"Le Loup de Chazes," the gunman replied. He and his family made religious signs for protection.
Van Rook shuddered. Aeron glanced between the two, confused. "The Wolf of Chazes," Van Rook translated. "The Beast of Gevaudan, a man-eater." He shuddered again.
"I'd heard talk, the last couple of weeks, about a pack of hunters trying to put that thing down," the gunman said. His wife poured some water for the two men.
"Clearly, they have not succeeded," Van Rook said, accepting the cup. "What else have you heard?"
"Buddy of mine, a few miles down the way, found their bodies a few days back," the gunman replied. "What was left of them, anyway." He glowered into his cup.
"Yes, well, from what your buddy says," the man's wife added, her anger rising to match his, "they'd gotten better than they deserved, anyhow."
Van Rook frowned. "But you're living in terror of this thing. If they were trying to kill it—"
"It wasn't what they were trying to do," the gunman's wife replied, "but how they did it."
The gunman nodded. "I figure the creature must have some kind of morals, least when it wants to use them. Never even touched the child that was with them."
"Child?" Van Rook repeated.
Aeron quickly rose to his feet and glanced around. "Hey, I'm, uh.... I'm going to have a look around. Check for other openings, okay?"
"Don't go outside," Van Rook warned. "And call me if you see anything." Aeron nodded and found his way out of the cellar. Van Rook stared at the gunman. "The Beast of Gevaudan is well known for preying on children...."
The gunman nodded. "Buddy said, the kid was all trussed up tighter than a chicken dinner," he said. "Hurt real bad, too. Banged up, broken bones, all tore up.... But not one mark from any predator."
Van Rook frowned, and thought this over. "You don't think he was meant for bait?"
"Yup. Me, my buddy, our families," the gunman replied. "We're all of a mind on this one."
He waited until his wife was distracted, tending to Drew and her own children, then leaned in close. "There's something else. See, my buddy ain't given to making up fanciful stories, but...."
—
Aeron waited in another part of the house, listening through the bug he'd left behind. "So what do you think?" he said into his radio. "I mean, it sounds to me like they'd been having a bit too much fun with the sheep, or something, but you people seem to be really into crazy."
"It's hard to say," Epsilon replied. "I will not know if it's the boy until I see him."
"And what if he isn't?"
"Given the farmer's story, he might still prove...of interest."
Aeron shook his head. Crazy, all of them. "What about the girl?"
Epsilon hesitated. "She is...not of interest at the moment."
Aeron's eyes lit up. "Heh. Maybe I can have a bit of fun with her, then," he muttered.
"I would not recommend it," Epsilon replied in a disgusted voice. "My people have determined that some of these abilities can be passed on genetically. The girl may have atrophied, but any offspring might prove useful."
"Oh," Aeron said. He tried not to sound too disappointed. "And you want to control whoever she breeds with."
"Not exactly," Epsilon said. "It is not the girl that concerns us. Rather, most of my people believe you should not be allowed to breed. And we are prepared to take...precautions, if necessary."
Aeron gulped.
"Also, this dream business you mentioned sounds a bit intriguing. It would be unwise for you to risk alienating that mercenary. Is that clear?"
"You wouldn't have to worry about him, if your people had done that break-in job properly," Aeron growled. "Or if you'd just let me kill him."
"Yes, well, my people believe he is still useful. And unfortunately, you are currently our only link to the mercenary. But you are quite right. If Solés had done that job properly, you would not be necessary."
"Er...." Aeron shivered. "That wasn't exactly what I meant."
Epsilon chuckled. "As it happens, we've had a number of incidents where a single unanticipated detail ruined an entire mission. Solés will pay for her mistakes, soon enough. I would recommend that you not mess this up, like you did at that 'orphanage'.... Unless you'd like to join her."
"No, sir," Aeron mumbled. "So how much time do you need? I figure the 'boss' and I are stuck here for the night, at least."
—
The grey hunters approached the farm in the middle of the night. Anzu watched, but did nothing. He would not intervene unless he needed to.
A few of the hunters broke off from the group and entered the building.
Then the beast struck.
The pup raced out of the woods and tore into the hunters. He was not hunting, not looking for prey. They were too close to his human body; he was seeking to protect himself.
The farmer ran out with a gun, and the pup leaped away from the hunters and bit him in two.
Anzu wanted to stop the pup, but still the birdman forced himself to wait.
The grey hunters trained their own weapons on the pup, but before they could fire—
"Stop!" one of the men called from inside.
The pup turned to face him, but did not attack.
In the man's arms was a small form, covered completely in bandages. Only the shape proved that it was human.
"Are you mad?" one of the other hunters asked. "That thing is a killer. It—"
The man holding Doyle wanted to order them to strike; he didn't know why he'd told them to stop. But Anzu continued to feed other thoughts to his mind. "I think it—I think it's protecting the boy." Some of them began muttering nervously. "Look at it. It stopped its attack as soon as it saw me. Look at how it watches the boy."
True, the thing snarled at them, but it shied away from the man holding the child.
"The thing is a man-eater," another one replied. "The creature is well-known for preying on children."
"Remember what that old man had said, about how this one just appeared?" The man glanced at the child in his arms. "The boy's father was a spirit-walker. Suppose the child is the same?"
One of the group nodded, then pulled out a different weapon. He fired at the pup. The boy twitched as the tranquilizer dart hit the beast...then the creature dropped and vanished, leaving the dart behind.
"Finally," Anzu muttered as the hunters took the boy away. The grey hunters would be able to help the child, to regain his sanity and learn control of this ability. If they could not help, they would find someone who could. Someone who, though less powerful than Anzu, would understand the boy's human needs far better than any of the gods.
It was finally over.
"Pity that mercenary didn't steal them away a long time ago," the birdman grumbled, and sighed. But events had a strange tendency to play out the same in each world. There would be some differences, but only when key players changed their roles did the world itself seem to follow a different path. Even then, it had a stubborn resistance to certain changes, a resistance that even the oldest of the gods had not begun to understand. Which version caused the other was as yet unknown, but Van Rook in the other dimension had had no need to kidnap the children; this world would not have allowed him to behave so differently as that.
But now that the grey hunters had Doyle in this world....
Anzu started shivering as he realized his mistake.
If the grey hunters had Doyle in this world, then the grey demons would also—
Anzu soared into the air and began the spell, begging the Creator that he would not be too late.
—
Van Rook waited until the sun had been up for an hour, and the creature likely asleep, before he and the gunman ventured outside.
The man led him to the generator so that the mercenary could fill the jet packs. Aeron waited inside, watching the girl.
The old man pulled Van Rook aside. "Mind what I said about that pup," he muttered.
"I cannot promise anything," Van Rook replied. "If the thing attacks me, I will have to defend myself—"
"Of course," the man said. "But if it leaves you alone...."
This pup that had appeared and disappeared was certainly odd, and Van Rook suspected these farmers were closer to the truth than they realized. Revan and Fae had told him about how animals seemed to behave strangely around Doyle...and Jonathon had been a spirit walker. If this child that the other farmer had found was Doyle, then maybe that pup....
He wanted to hunt it down, though not in the way these people feared, but the mercenary reflected that even that might spook the creature. Van Rook shook his head, and sighed. "I will leave it alone."
He tossed one of the jet packs to Aeron. "Protect that girl," he ordered. "If you do not hear from me within an hour...do not come looking for me. Just protect her."
"Sure thing, boss," Aeron said with a mock salute.
"Smart ass," Van Rook muttered, and flew off before anyone could reply.
Van Rook recited the gunman's directions in his mind, and flew quickly towards the other farmer's home.
As he neared the place, he happened to glance down at the site where the hunters had met their end—nothing left but red patches fertilizing the grass—and shuddered.
A flicker of orange and red played against his vision, and he looked up.
And stared at the burning building.
Van Rook dumped the jet pack well outside of the wall of heat, dug through his supplies for an air mask, and made his way inside.
But the fire had destroyed too much, and Van Rook was forced to go back outside, to escape the heat.
"No!" Van Rook screamed his rage to the sky. "What have those monsters done?"
The fire could have come from a spilled lantern. Even that could have spread enough to burn the place down so quickly. But the fire was small, too small to be seen from a distance. Even the arrangement of the bodies was suspect.
Everything Van Rook saw spoke of a controlled blaze.
He screamed again, startling a flock of birds out of the trees.
But one bird remained, a hawk that focused on Van Rook's thoughts and made certain that the mercenary arrived at precisely the right conclusion.
Van Rook had just about decided to hunt down the grey demons, when his radio crackled to life.
"Hey, boss, you might want to come here, quick," Aeron said in a whisper.
Van Rook snarled, and ignored the radio.
That's right, ignore it, Anzu thought at him. The trail is still fresh. Only a few hours old. Maybe a bit much for most mortals, but Jonathon taught you well. Ach! Jonathon's going to tan my hide for leaving his girl with that monster, but you have to get the boy.
"Boss, where are you...?" Aeron continued. "Dad?"
Van Rook blinked in surprise, then picked up the radio.
The hawk above started screeching in pure rage. No, you fool! He's playing you. He's playing up your feelings; he knows how you feel about your family. Even I can see what he's doing. You're smarter than he is; you should see right through him!
"What is it?" Van Rook said, his voice raw.
"Dad, oh, come on, answer me already—boss? There's these people come in.... Oh, god, they killed them. Broke in, killed the farmer, whole family. Yahoos in grey trench coats, they—"
Van Rook's heart froze. "Grey...trench coats?"
"Yeah. I got me and the girl hid for now, she's still out of it, but.... The whole family's dead. These people shot them up, didn't even ask questions or nothing. They—I hear them talking. Boss, I think they're looking for the girl!"
Shots sounded over the radio.
"Get out of there," Van Rook said. "Both of you. I'll be there soon."
No, Anzu seethed. No, I can hear him shooting; you check the bodies, the only shots you'll find are the ones you gave Aeron.
But Van Rook was no longer open to Anzu's influence.
He will pay, Anzu vowed. The grey demons will not stand for his tricks, not for long. Aeron was not loyal to them; he played up Van Rook's rage and suspicion of the grey demons as readily as he hindered the mercenary's search. It was no longer a surprise to Anzu that many mortals did not much like the gods, not after watching that mortal's games. And the mercenary...the mercenary will see him for the monster he is. And that monster will pay for his interference.
End of the Hunt marks the end of The Hunted. (And the end of the "childhood" that I planned to salvage for my original fiction, though with a lot of rearranging.)
I've got one more Doyle-specific arc coming up, then Drew has to share the spotlight with Van Rook for a while, though it's more "Van Rook" than "Drew."
Then it's back to Doyle. As an adult.
End of the Hunt also marks the last appearance of Doyle of the Monday world—as well as the Monday world itself—within the history. Unless a Doyle perspective of canon requires it (as in, not merely a re-creation of Zak's experience in Paris is Melting, but a new episode in which Doyle is involved in the different worlds), we will not specifically see the Monday world, or that Doyle, within the history again.
But we might see him in one or more of my other stories that stem from the history.
And the final note on this and preceding arcs: because of the episode "And Your Enemies Closer" (Hey! I'd planned for years on using that title!), it looks like I might retcon Doyle's past again, or else finally relegate this history to the "Alternate Universe" category.
Or will I?
I could have a reason that his memory is faulty (not to mention details he didn't want to reveal), claim that the attack in the episode's flashback occurred before my first chapter, as I'd done with the initial separation....
And remind readers that, just as there are things within my story that is not in canon but (until JS says otherwise) could have happened, so, too, are there details in canon that do not appear in my story but could have happened, without contradicting my version of events.
All I'd need to figure out is the reason that his memory would contradict the "past" that I've already used. (And I think one of my readers over at Waking Nightmare already gave me the answer to that one.)
Oh, wait. That does make it a retcon, doesn't it?
Eh, whatever.
Oh, and I need to decide how to incorporate the "reason" into the story...short of simply including a chapter whose sole purpose is to make it happen. (Which I'm seriously considering.)