The Broken Children
-Lorcan-
He growls, causing the guards to turn in alarm, their eyes widening in fear as they see him advancing on them, barefoot and clad in ragged clothing. Streaks of blood cover his arms from claw to elbow and his chin drips with the sticky, scarlet liquid.
"Stop!" the one on the left exclaims, his wand shaking in his grasp as he trains in on him.
Lorcan grins, cocking his head to the side and baring his teeth, showing of the specks of flesh stuck between them. Slowly, yet surely, he raises his hands above his head, making the obvious gesture of surrender. Wand-arm still shaking, the Auror comes forward and grabs his wrist with his free hand, shakily clasping a metallic cuff around it.
"You smell delicious," chuckles Lorcan, and the man's face drains of colour as a scream rings through the hall, punctuated by the sound of ripping flesh and cracking bone. Then he's on his feet, fist flying out to catch his captor in the face. The Auror's nose breaks and Lorcan smirks, leaping into the air and flipping himself over the man's shoulder before dragging his cuffed hand around his throat. Like clockwork, he grasps for the other end and within seconds, he's choking the life out of the guard, the man's wand clattering to the ground.
"Fear is always the best seasoning," he giggles, running his tongue up the dying man's neck, letting it caress the shell of his hear. Gasping for breath, the Auror struggles, till finally Lorcan grows weary of playing and bites down upon the side of his throat, ripping his face away in a shower of blood and sinewy flesh.
Behind him, he can hear Dominique feasting, blood splattering the ground around her, and he laughs, low and maniacal. She's always been a messy eater; that much is sure.
"I believe I told you two not to make a mess," comments a cool, clear voice from the end of the corridor, and he looks up to see three ladies making their way towards them.
"We didn't make that much of a mess," he protests, lapping at the waterfall of blood and savouring the taste, "Besides, Domino and I like it when they piss themselves in fear."
Rolling her eyes and screwing up her nose in blatant distaste, Cassiopeia beckons to the ladies on either side of her.
"Lucy, Rose, free the prisoners and start a riot. Do whatever it takes to make sure that no Aurors get in my way. Dominique, Lorcan, come with me."
Nodding, Lorcan rises and follows his Dark Mistress, just as Lucy and Rose both disappear, no questions asked, into the shadows. Pouting, Dominique gets to her feet and follows them, before asking the question that he's been avoiding.
"Where is Molly?" she asks, a frown crossing her face as they ascend the stairs to the highest floor of Azkaban.
"Dead," mutters Cassiopeia, without a shred of empathy in her voice, "She took her own life a few weeks ago."
"She was always the weakest of us," he sighs, though Dominique looks likely to argue. He shakes his head at her . . . now is not the time to bite the hand that keeps them fed. Especially since, even if they were to turn on Albus and Cassiopeia Potter, they would still be hunted like dogs by the world at large.
Even their parents and siblings would not grant them sanctuary.
With a low growl, unheard by either woman, he suppresses his emotions and lets the wolf take control once more. It's easier that way, when he doesn't feel, when he lives by instinct rather than humanity.
Before he knows it he's standing in front of a door, heavily chained and warded, but Cassiopeia is already moving her wand like a dancer's baton, elegantly undoing the charms that keep it closed. Within seconds, the lock clicks and a man stumbles out, a twisted leer spreading across his lips as he stands before them. His hair is long and scruffy, clinging to his skull, and his nails are long and yellow, filthier than a werewolf's.
"My Lord." He kneels, just as Dominique does, but Albus dismisses them with a wave and sweeps his wife into a smouldering embrace, their passionate kiss seeming oddly macabre; her pure and pale, him dark and covered in dirt.
When finally The Dark Lord and his Lady break apart, Albus turns to him and laughs.
"Still alive, Lorcan, Dominique? Care to do more than just live in the shadows?"
It's the same words that Albus said to them all those years ago, when he first recruited them from their cottage in the woods, and just like then he nods and smirks, forcing down any semblance of human feeling and letting the wolf show across his features.
"No questions asked," he answers, "No lies told."
(*)(*)(*)
Prompts: No questions asked.