Chenoa had been downplaying the severity of the situation when she'd told the four teenagers and her husband that the wolves had reported 'a murder'. Reagan wondered if it was Chenoa who had downplayed the situation; she'd promised not to hold back from the truth even if it was gruesome after sending them very unprepared into a demon den; Reagan thought that it must have been Lucy, who was too flustered on the phone to fully describe what had happened. Looking around Reagan counted five bodies. They were all werewolves. She did not know any of them well. As bad as it sounds she was thankful for that. Her most daunting fear was that it was Spencer who'd been killed. When she got out of the truck and saw the poor girl in tears accompanied by one of the older wolves, who had his arm placed protectively around her shoulders, she was beyond relieved. Patrick and Dyani went straight to Lucy for details, professionally as always. Connor began to take photos and Wesley got to work on the forensics. Reagan couldn't help but just stand there and watch. She'd never been good at responding to situations like this one. She did not like to do investigations into deaths. She'd much rather go head first into a hoard of demons then dust for prints, collect evidence or listen to alibis. The way she looked at it was: if the victims were all already dead, then they'd already failed.

"Hey Connor," Wesley motioned for him to come to squat beside him. He did. "Look at this?" Wesley pulled back the cloth of the young man's shredded shirt to reveal a gag worthy gore fest underneath. Connor had to look away quickly before looking back.

"What exactly am I looking at?" He asked. He had never been all that good finding peculiarities in mauled bodies. That was Wesley's specialty. To him the body had merely been gutted; its insides flipped outward by claws, fangs, or a serrated blade. Maybe all three, he thought half heartily.

"He's missing his fifth rib." Wesley bit the inside of his cheek while he watched Connor peer closer to the body. "See there. The one on the right is missing. It looks like it was snapped off."
"Pressure maybe?"

He shook his head, "I don't think so. It looks like the whole rib cage has been pulled forward slightly."

"You think they took the rib?" Connor could hear the disbelief in his own voice.

"I certainly don't see any ribs laying around here," Wesley grunted as he stood up and began to walk towards the other bodies.

"What're you doing?" He found his stride easily within the other boy's gait.

"I'm going to see if the other bodies have missing ribs."

Dyani had seen murdered downworlders before. It was part of her job after all. But this scene gave her chills, and they weren't due to her sleeveless Halloween costume that she hadn't had time to change out off. From the way, the scene looked she'd had assumed that the victims were attacked by an animal. These were werewolves, so that seemed highly unlikely. Yet she still couldn't shake the animalistic feeling that radiated from the mauled bodies. What would've had the ability, let alone the audacity to do such a thing? Lucy did not seem to know. Dyani and her father had been talking to her for almost fifteen minutes and had just now found out that she had not even been at the Brewery when it happened. Lucy received a call from Sampson after he heard Spencer scream from out back and rushed to her aid only to find the bodies. It was then that she called Chenoa and headed over. Patrick politely excused himself and his daughter after learning he'd wasted his time. They headed over to talk to Sampson who was trying to calm down the distraught Spencer. Dyani politely gave her condolences to Spencer, who with tears in her eyes thanked her.

"What happened?" She directed the question to Sampson.

"I'm not quite sure." He admitted in his gruff voice, "I just heard Spencer cry out and knew I had to go and help her, but when I got out here there was nothing to stop. They were all dead."

"Spencer, did you see anything?"

She shook her head and sniffled before explaining in choked words, "I was out here with them. We took a smoke break but I forgot my lighter. So I went in to get it and when I came out-" A quick sob hitched her breath and she covered her mouth with her hands. Dyani let her compose herself. "They were all dead." She continued frantically, "I was only gone a minute, maybe less!"

"Did you see anyone before or after the attack?" Patrick asked her.

She shook her head and sunk a little deeper into Sampson.

"Was there anything; anything at all that seemed out of the ordinary about tonight?" Dyani asked her with a certain motherly softness edging into her tone.

"No. I'm sorry."

Well now we're back to the start, Dyani thought, with nothing.

"If you think of something don't hesitate to call us."

The group met soon after. Lucy had ordered that the bodies be taken to the funeral home and all the other werewolves to head home immediately. She was sure that someone or something was out to get her pack. She told them all to head home and not to go out again until ten o'clock the next day when she was going to hold a pack meeting that everyone was required to attend. She was putting all the werewolves under high security until the culprit was caught. Of course, when Wesley informed her of his finding and what was to come from them she was only more worried. Patrick guaranteed her that they would look into it.

The drive home was somber but when they got home Chenoa greeted them with a comforting smile. She quickly hugged each teenager and kissed her husband quickly.
"I know that you all are a little worried." She said as she led them into the kitchen. "But there is nothing we can do about it now, so I think we should finish what we started."

Patrick smiled at her. She was sweet to try to break the ice and he agreed that the teenagers needed this.

"Here," She held out a plate of candy apples and offered it to the teenagers, "Take one."

"Thanks, mom." Dyani smiled and took one of the smaller apples.

"And these" Her mom gestured to the five still unopened beer bottles, "Need to be finished before the kids seem them." She winked before taking Patrick by the hand and leading him upstairs. Dyani gave her father a confused look but he just shrugged and retreated upstairs with Chenoa.

"She does have a point." Connor reluctantly inched towards to beers.

"Go for it." Wesley chuckled and grabbed an apple. "She's right. We can't worry ourselves too much now. We'll be focused on this a lot in the next few days or however long it takes."
"And forgetting about it would be kind of nice." Reagan shrugged while forcing a smile onto her face.

"Sure." Dyani shook her head, "Whatever."

The others smiled at her approval and each took a beer.

It was around three in the morning when everyone had finally fallen asleep in their own rooms. Dyani had only eaten half of her apple as she'd watched the others carry on the festivities. Now that they'd all fallen asleep she'd thrown out the empty beer bottles and was carrying three bottles of water upstairs to the others' rooms. She opened each of their doors quietly as to not wake them, even though the chances of that were very unlikely, and placed a bottle of water on each of their nightstands. She then went to wash the makeup off her face, unlike Reagan who just fell into bed with her full face of makeup still on. Reagan tended to do that quite often. The cool water against her felt so nice that Dyani almost got into the shower. She stopped when she remembered how late (early?) it was and that showering would surely wake Luca.

Dyani fell into bed with a sigh that night but sleep was hard to find. She rolled over in bed to watch the stars that twinkled over the forest out her window and the waning moon that hung high in the dark sky when she heard the distinct sound of twigs snapping in the backyard. She shot upright and stepped out of bed and towards the window. She was worried that maybe someone forgot to let the dogs inside. She peered out into the darkness below. She couldn't see anything, but she could hear more rustling of bushes that she was sure weren't due to the wind. She sighed and opened the door. She'd have to go downstairs and check that the dogs weren't still outside.

She didn't bother to turn on the lights when she walked down the hall and into the kitchen. She didn't have to. She knew this house inside out. It was the only place she had ever called home. She could hear Enyeto snoring from in the living room as she headed towards the back door. She cupped her hand above her eyes and pressed herself to the door in hopes of seeing through the darkness. It was oddly silent outside. Even the normal sounds of the forest seemed to be hushed. There was a scratch of claws on the tile behind her that made her jump slightly. When she turned around and saw Tiny wagging his tail behind her she laughed and pat his nose. She checked the lock on the door before heading back up to bed. It was locked. The noise was probably just a deer, or maybe a raccoon. Dyani rolled her eyes at herself for letting something so stupid get on her nerves.

This time she was ready to fall asleep for good. She was exhausted and could feel her heavy eyes screaming for rest. She pushed open her bedroom door and was suddenly enveloped in cold. She hugged herself as the cold air hit her. It was freezing. She did not remember it being this cold when she left. She checked the window and found it was still closed. She rolled into bed and kicked the blankets around her bare legs. She snuggled into the new warmth and forgot about the odd chill almost immediately. It wasn't that out of the ordinary for an old house like this in the middle of nowhere to get cold at night. She told herself she had nothing to worry about and fell asleep.

Even to Dyani, seven o'clock came much too early that next morning. It was completely unnecessary for Patrick to sound an emergency bell at such an awfully early time; Dyani thought as she stood now outside in her gear with the cold late autumn air biting at her exposed skin. It was especially awful that the bell had been a purposeful false alarm. Dyani had rushed downstairs only to find that nothing was wrong. In fact, the house was more presentable than usual. The other teenagers had somehow managed to drag themselves downstairs only minutes after Dyani had. When Reagan stumbled into the kitchen to see what was wrong but instead found a perfectly pleasant setting and Patrick smiling smugly at her, she let out a few choice words from under her breath. They'd been informed that they must change into their training gear as quickly as possible and with many protests they did. They were used to this- well somewhat. The point of this 'exercise', as Patrick cheerily called it, was that you were never ready for it and therefore must always be ready for it. Make sense? It made sense to Dyani in theory, but she still hated it as much as anyone else would. Patrick would sound the emergency alarm at seemingly random times and when the children responded they'd find out it was a false alarm. Instead, they'd have a challenge to complete as part of their daily Shadowhunter training curtsy of Patrick. In the backyard now Patrick began his speech to anyone older than twelve. Tahlia did not like her new addition to this part of training.

"Today's challenge is to run to Bear Grove in forty minutes or less." He announced.

"Patrick no. By the angel, please not today." Connor's grumbled protest left his mouth as his hands went to his temples, "I'm super fucking hung over."

"Warriors never get breaks." He chided back. Tahlia giggled towards Connor who responded with a vicious side-eye.

Reagan began to pull out her stele to give herself a rune that could stop the ground from spinning beneath her when Patrick shook his head and put out his hand and commanded, "Steles."

A collective groan sounded from the group as they all hesitantly handed over their steles.

"Oh and no cheating." Patrick continued. "There are flags up there. Get me a flag and bring it back down before the forty-minute mark and you pass. Oh! I almost forgot: there are only five flags."

The trail to Bear Grove was a familiar ten kilometers. What made it difficult was the terrain. It was uphill, very steep at points, and littered with obstacles including fallen trees, rocks, and more than one river. Dyani found herself in the middle of the pack at the five-mile mark. Tahlia and Braeden were more than likely a few miles ahead of her. They'd shot off the beginning at top speed. They were both highly competitive and Dyani could easily assume they'd placed bets on it. Wesley was comfortably beside her. How he was able to recover so quickly from the night before was baffling. Then again, he'd always been able to hold his alcohol better than the rest. When Dyani thought about it, she realized she couldn't recall any memory of him every being drunk (or showing any of its symptoms at least). Reagan, Connor, and Adsila were behind her at varying distances with Connor bringing up the rear. The poor guy had thrown up within the first mile.

When Dyani and Wesley reached the Grove, a large clearing in the woods with a few picnic tables and a dock that stood before one of the bigger rivers, two of the flags were gone.

"Those two are long gone." Wesley laughed as he plucked a flag off for himself and tossed another to Dyani. She stopped and caught her breath. "Only one left."

"Reagan's going to be her soon." She told him. She could feel the heartbeat of her parabati increasing as she was surely climbing the rock outcrop just before the grove. She let Reagan draw on her strength while she remained at rest. She'd made it to the grove in nineteen minutes. She knew she only had a minute or less to catch her breath. She began to walk back towards the trail slowly until she noticed Wesley was not with her. She turned and saw him lying on the picnic table with his eyes closed. "You coming?" She shouted back at him as she found her way back into the shade of the woods.

"I'll meet you there." He responded light-heartedly.

"Okay." She rolled her eyes and broke into a jog just in time to see Reagan coming over the bend in the trail in front of her.

Reagan had gotten the last flag shortly after Dyani left. Then Adsila came by only to find that there was no flag for her to take. She huffed disappointedly and began her trek back down. Wesley left with fifteen minutes left of the allotted time. He returned to the rock outcrop to see Connor struggling to pull himself from the last foothold. Wesley offered him a hand and hauled the other boy up beside him. Connor promptly fell to the ground with a resigned sigh of defeat. He looked sick. He was pale and his eyes squinted shut from the sunlight.

"There are no more flags left." Wesley shook Connor's dark blonde hair quickly before heading back down the outcrop.

"I know there are no more fucking flags!" He shouted back causing Wesley to laugh.

Dyani was the third one back. She handed her flag to her father.

"You're killing the twins." She told him with a smirk while silently willing more energy into Reagan. He shrugged and returned to drinking his coffee and staring off the back porch towards the path into the woods.

Reagan walked into the kitchen with Wesley with Patrick following them. He didn't need to wait outside any longer. All five flags were collected. Adsila and Connor would arrive eventually. Eventually ended up being almost 15 minutes over the allotted time. Connor stumbled, pale-faced and heaving, into the kitchen threatening to throw up on the rest of them. The others rolled their eyes at him but Chenoa placed a hefty mug of tea on the table in front of him.

"It's ginger." She smiled lightly; "Drink up."

"You are an angel." Connor took a hearty swig, "But your husband is the devil."

Chenoa laughed and pat his shaggy hair. It was something she'd always done for as long as he could remember. It was something his mother had never done.

Dyani had followed Adsila up to her room after breakfast. The young girl had been distant, more so than usual, and Dyani instantly knew that something was bothering her little sister. She knocked twice on her bedroom door before pushing it open slowly. She closed it behind her and said gently, "Hey Addy."

"Hi." Her sister pushed a forced smile onto her face.

"Can I sit?"

Adsila nodded and Dyani sat next to her. She picked up the hairbrush that was sitting in the girl's lap and began to comb out her hair. She worked in silence until her sister was ready to begin talking.

"Dyani?" Adsila's small voice broke the silence of the room.

"Yes?" Dyani answered as she began to part Adsila's caramel coloured hair into sections to braid.

She was hesitant when she asked, "Did you ever think that maybe you weren't going to be a good Shadowhunter?"

"No." Dyani answered and let the silence spread throughout the room as she continued to weave the strands of hair together with ease, "Do you feel like that?"

Addy nodded causing the hair to slip from Dyani's hands. She quickly gathered it up and began once again, "You have no reason to feel like that. You are going to make a great Shadowhunter."

"I don't know how to be." She swallowed, "You and Reagan are so talented and- and I just can't keep up."

"We're three years older than you. I wasn't like I am now at fourteen."

"But Tahlia and Braeden-"

"They're competitive. They strive to be the best. When you're like that your learning curve becomes steeper. You aren't like them in that sense. You don't feel the need to win these challenges dad comes up with. Just because you don't win them doesn't mean you aren't a good Shadowhunter."

"I guess so. I just feel like I should be better at it. I don't know. It's stupid probably."

"It's not stupid." Dyani finished off the braid and reached over to the nightstand to grab a hair tie. Adsila handed it to her. "It may take you longer to learn a combat move or run a mile, but that doesn't make you any less. Sure Braeden can jump higher, and Tahlia can run faster, but I've never seen anyone who can make jewelry as nice as yours." Dyani dropped the braid against her back and unclipped the necklace from around her neck. She dropped it in the palm of Adsila hand. "Look at that. It's beautiful. I'd like to see Braeden try to make something like that with his jumping skills." Dyani smiled to herself as she watched her sister's mouth curved into a shy smile as she looked at the carving of a pair of antlers sitting in her palm.

Adsila turned and hugged Dyani. "Thank you." She whispered against her neck.

Just after lunch, Dyani was told to meet the others in the library. She knew exactly what was to happen. When she got there the others sat in varying positions around the large open area between the bookshelves that fanned outwards. Connor had a laptop connected to a projector that showed the grisly evidence of the night before. Wesley had a small notebook in his lap and a pencil tucked behind his ear. Chenoa and Patrick sat near the projector in separate wooden chairs. All of these people seemed on edge but it did not worry Dyani. What did worry her was the look on her parabati's face. She could feel the nervous energy coming off of Reagan as she walked towards her and sat on the leather couch beside her. Dyani slid her hand over the other girl's and gave it a gentle squeeze. Reagan looked over at Dyani and met her eyes with a slight smile. Dyani understood how hard these were for Reagan to sit through. Dyani always understood.

Patrick opened the case by explaining the general circumstances and what he and Dyani had gathered from talking to Lucy and Spencer.

"The attack happened within a minute. Whoever, or whatever, did this took less than a minute to kill five very competent werewolves. No one claims to have seen anything out of the ordinary that night. Whatever happened was powerful and most likely planned to a tee." Patrick explained before turning to Wesley, "Anything peculiar about the bodies?"

Wesley stood and made his way to the projector screen. He signaled Connor who put the image of the opened up male victim on the screen. "As you all probably noticed yesterday; the bodies were gutted in quite an animalistic way. This sort of attack looked like it was done by a werewolf. But upon further inspection and common sense, I ruled out that possibility." Connor flipped to the next slide to show the cuts up close. "The way that the skin was ripped was precise at first. It was cut with accuracy and intent. It was not until something was retrieved from the body that the attacker, or attackers, mutilated the body to the way you see it now. It was a cover up. They wanted something from these wolves." The slide switched to show the missing rib. "In every victim, I found the fifth rib on the right to be missing. No ribs were found on the scene, so one can only assume the attacker took them. Why they wanted ribs, I do not know. The most logical theory is that these were ritualistic killings."

"Thank you, Wesley," Patrick said as Wesley sat down. "There are two things you need to look into." He addressed the four teenagers, "One: how did this attacker suspend five wolves at once without any of them being able to fight back or call out. And two: what kind of ritual requires ribs from a werewolf."

As the afternoon wore into the evening, the teenagers' hopes grew thinner. Although there was an abundance of information in the institute's library, it was not the right information. Connor had grown weary from the reading. His short attention span let him sleep within only a few hours of research. When he was woken it was by his sister's hand against his forehead it wasn't gentle. The sharp flick of her wrist sent him jolting out of his sleep and immediately into an aggressive position. Reagan stepped out of his way (both she and Connor had a lack of flight response) and shrugged, "Dinner's ready."

Dinner was the usual loud affair. With the table full and each person talking over the next it was impossible not for it to be loud. Reagan and Dyani offered to clear off the table while the rest of the family went their separate ways. Wesley was going with Tahlia and Adsila to watch some awful romance movie. Reagan didn't know why he kept watching movies with them. All they ever wanted to watch was Nicolas Sparks movies. Just the thought made Reagan gag. Wesley was a good sport for putting up with them. As a surprise to most, Connor went to go practice his swordsmanship. He was quite vocal at his distaste for their shock before leaving for the training room. Once it was only Dyani and Reagan in the kitchen washing the dishes and putting them away Reagan spoke up.

"Hey, Dy?" She said as she put the glasses on the drying rack.

"What's up?" Dyani responded casually.

"What do you think about the werewolves?"

"Are you asking me what I think happened to them?"

"I guess so."

"Well, it seems reasonable to think it was a ritualistic killing. That doesn't necessarily mean that it was done by downworlders though."

"I can't get over how quick it happened. That seems to disprove that."

"Well planned mundane attacks can happen that quickly." Dyani dried her hands on the hand towel then tossed it to Reagan. The two girls lapsed into a silence as they finished up.

"Do you think we could've done something more about it?" Reagan asked hesitantly.

Dyani smiled softly at her parabati who bit her lower lip, a sure sign of the anxiety that hid behind her false expression. "No. Reagan, there was nothing anyone could have done. Especially not you."

"We didn't find anything helpful today. We have no idea who did this and no way to stop them. I'm just worried-" Reagan swallowed the lump in her throat, "I'm worried about Spencer, and the other werewolves."

Dyani took Reagan's hands and easily laced her fingers through hers. They fit like a glove: familiar and safe. Reagan looked up at her and Dyani gave her a reassuring smile. The thing about Dyani was that she always smiled with her eyes. Her mouth was a thin curved line but her eyes were sparkling. Reagan felt her fears melting away under her gaze as she spoke in a caring tone that she knew she'd never get tired of hearing:

"It's like we told Patrick. There's no real way of knowing exactly who or what did it, or exactly how it happened. We don't know if it'll happen again either. We don't even know for sure it was wolves that were targeted. There is just not enough significant evidence to go on right now. There's nothing more we can do. Please don't beat yourself up over it."

Connor could feel the sweat pooling between his shoulder blades and soaking through the fabric of his dark shirt. The sword he held threatened to fall from his clammy hands. He pushed forward, yet his grip faltered and his balanced slipped every time the force of the sword pushed back against him after it slammed against the dummy. He grit his teeth and struggled through the pain of the hilt digging into his palms. He remembered his father, the last time his parents had been at the institute he'd been scolded. No, scolded was too light of a word; he'd been shamed by his father for not being able to swing a broadsword in a reliable arc. With that memory in mind, he swung the sword high above his head. It came down in a crash of pent up anger that swung right by the dummy and crashed to floor loudly. When the ringing from his ears came to a halt, Connor dropped the sword from his grip and placed his head in his hands. His labored breathing was broken by the sound of the door opening. Wesley walked in with the same confident stride he always used. A friendly glow shone in his eyes as he stopped a few feet from Connor.

"Still working on the broadsword?" He asked, acting oblivious to the last event that he had caught sight of. Connor didn't need to know how much he'd seen.

"Yeah." Connor shrugged and picked up the sword with hesitant hands.

"How's it going?"

"Not well." He sighed.

"Let me help you." Wesley flashed him a charming grin. "Show me your stance."

"Okay." Connor gave him a quick side-glance before awkwardly attempting to put himself into a suitable position.

"Well, there's your problem." Wesley approached him with a chuckle.

"What?" Connor protested.

"You're standing like you're about to use a bow, not a sword. That's your first problem." Wesley positioned himself in the proper stance next to him, "Bring your left leg back towards the center. You want to get a wider stance across your body. Does that make sense?"

Connor nodded and put his feet more than shoulder width apart.

"Yeah! That's better! Now pick up the sword in both hands." Wesley watched Connor do so and he shook his head. He then took Connor's hands under his own and repositioned them. Connor's hand flinched ever so slightly at his touch but Wesley ignored it. He was about to fix Connor's shoulder position but stopped with his hand hovering near his body to ask, "May I?"

Connor looked at him and felt a hot blush growing into his cheeks. He looked down and nodded. Wesley placed his hands on Connor's back and where the sweat was once hot, it now ran cold sending an unexpected shiver down Connor's spine. Whether Wesley noticed or not, he did not show it as he went along with straightening the other boys back and lifting his dominant arm carefully.

"Try swinging like this." Wesley began to back up, "But wait until I'm out of the way!"

Connor smiled lightly at his joke causing the dimples in his cheeks to flare up. Both him and Reagan had this symptom of smiling, but his were always more prominent. Wesley gave him the go ahead. Connor swung the sword. He was astonished by how much power he now had. This strength threw his stance off balance and the sword came down and nicked his shin. He swore lightly.

"You alright?" Wesley was already standing in front of him with his stele out.

"I don't need a healing rune. It's not that bad." Connor bit his inner cheek, "I wasn't prepared for that swing to be so-"

"Amazing?" His hazel eyes shone.

"I guess so." Connor found his blush returning as he went to pick up the sword again.

Wesley laid a hand on his arm, "No more. You can practice more tomorrow. You're much too tired now. You're just going to hurt yourself." Connor sighed and brought the sword back to the weapons storage closet. He placed it on the rack. Looking down at his hands he noticed the redness and slight swelling around the parts where the sword had dug into his palms. A warrior should have scars, his dad always said. Connor did not have many scars. He found himself hoping these would scar, or make his hands worn and calloused. Maybe then he'd be a good warrior; the warrior his father tried to raise. He said goodnight to Wesley that night with his eyes trained on Wesley's exposed collarbone. Wesley had his fair share of scars, but this one was different. Connor had never noticed it before. It was an old scar. The white framing the red line only made it stand out more against Wesley's complexion. Connor never asked about Wesley's scars. He never asked much about his past. His past was a touchy subject. Whatever Wesley told him was his choice. Connor would never dare to ask him about any of his scars, not the ones on his back and definably not this one. Wesley was a good warrior, and good warriors had their scars.