It had been the most gruelling drive Dean had ever had put himself through. When the large, familiar sign bearing its proclamation of beer came into view his already high running anxiety kicked itself up a notch. He cast a quick glance down to his right, almost as if to assure himself that the handgun was still hidden away in the small compartment. What if his instinct was wrong and she hadn't come back here? He shook his head and shrugged it off, confident he knew her better than anyone else ever could, and his gut told him that this was the right path to follow. Stealing a glimpse upward he looked up at the evening sky which was dark with clouds, the humidity that hung heavily in the air suggested that a storm was an inevitability at some point.
She hates the rain...
The elderly man was outside his store, bringing in signs advertising specials scrawled on them in chalk as he closed up for the evening and stopped a moment to watch as the car passed by. He shook his head at the rapidly retreating vehicle and made his way back indoors, pulling down the blinds and flipping the sign hanging on the glass from open to closed. He paused briefly when pale eyes looked over at the phone, then with a heavy sigh walked over and plucked the receiver from the cradle.
The wrought iron gate loomed ominously as the car passed the threshold of the old estate. Old Willow trees draped with Spanish Moss that lined the mile long driveway felt as though they were pressing in on him. He wasn't sure if he had simply not noticed just how creepy this damn place looked the first time round or if it were his overtaxed nerves at work playing tricks on his brain. As the house itself into view the rain announced its arrival with a brilliant flash of lightning and the foreboding sound of subsequent thunder. The crunching gravel under tires came to an eventual stop when he slowly pulled up alongside an old, red SUV. Reluctantly he took the pistol from its place and tucked it under his belt after checking the clip and safety. He didn't want to use it but he'd be damned if he was going to let whatever Roman was turning into try and kill them again.
Taking a deep breath he gingerly stepped out of the car, tugging up the collar of his jacket and peered into a window of the truck, noticing the keys were still in the ignition. Normally he would have thought it strange, but with everything that had been going on lately strange now felt like the new normal. Catching sight of a torch in the back he decided to take it with him, the looming mansion looked ominously dark. He took the steps carefully and approached the large, heavy doors, one wide open showing the thick blackness that consumed the spacious foyer. With a soft click a narrow beam of bright light struggled to cut through the gloom as he stepped inside, the interior sporadically lighting up with the thunderstorm through the grand windows. Thick blue carpet soaked up the water from his soaked boots as he moved further in, stopping half way across the room when he heard a noise that turned his blood cold. It sounded like something between an painful scream and an animalistic roar from somewhere.
A door on the level above him slammed open, making him jump as a figure stumbled against the high rail in the dark. "Mack?"
"Dean?" Instinctively she held a hand up against the glare of the torchlight. "What are you doing here?"
He could hear it, the confused mix of relief and fear that carried her words. "Three guesses, Mack, and the first two don't count." A bellowing howl echoed through the corridors and cut through the night, only to be answered by something lurking out there in the dark. "What the hell is going on?"
"No time to explain," she said, barely managing to hold onto a sense of self control as she came down the stairs two at a time. "We have to get out of here."
When she reached the bottom he took her hand in his, feeling the shaking of her fear and squeezed tightly. They would get out of this hell, even if it killed him. But as the large double doors burst open and revealed the monstrous grey form of the loup garou he wondered if either of them would get out alive.
Everything hurt, it was unbearable agony. Was he dying? It felt like he should be dying. He could feel flesh and bone morphing and twisting, growing to accommodate the change that was happening to him. His limbs grew longer, sharp and deadly claws pushing through the ends of his fingers while a sleek coat of black fur rapidly began to cover his skin. The structure of his face contorted and grew, becoming more canine with each passing moment, teeth becoming longer and sharper. He felt his human mind slipping away as the beast fully emerged, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Shoulders heaved in time with ragged panting once the pain finally stopped. A growl rumbled from his throat before erupting into a fearsome howl, head snapping up at the answering challenge. With a snarl he took off, the call to destroy the interloper racing through his veins. He heard the sounds of the explosive sound of a weapon, the call of his enemy and panicked chaos. A scream. His mate. A threat.
Danger.
The loup garou was confused by the violent force that had slammed into it, sending the beast sprawling back towards the entrance. Hardened claws ripped deep gouges in the floor as it righted itself, snarling in rage at the massive, black mirror image standing in front of it. The young trespasser roared back with arms spread wide in challenge, yellow eyes alight with primal fury. The two monsters circled each other before the grey threw itself headlong into its black competition. Claw and fang glinted under the sporadic flash of lightning as they bit and slashed at one another, brawling until the new blood charged and sent them both through a window and out of sight.
Mackenzie sat completely dumbfounded for a second at what had just happened. That was what Roman had turned into? That was what she had thrown her lot in with? The idea was... terrifying. A groan broke her out of the shocked stupor as she looked sharply to her left and scrambled across the few feet of distance. With shaking hands she quickly went over Dean's horrendous injuries, trying desperately to hold it together in the face of this unfolding nightmare.
"Hold on, I'm going to get the kit from the truck."
"No," he gritted out, catching her by the wrist before she could disappear. "I don't think this is something you can fix, Mack."
She shut her eyes tightly for a second, as if the action could refute the cold logic of truth. The loup garou had savagely torn into him faster than either of them had been able to move. Blood was everywhere, seemingly taunting Mackenzie's futile efforts to stem the flow from a chaotic mess of deep gashes. Unable to do anything else she pulled him close and his eyes briefly closed at the feeling of her fingers lightly combing through his hair and brushing it out of his face. "You big idiot."
"I'm an idiot," he agreed, watching as tears began to fall. He was starting to feel cold and knew it wasn't a good sign. "I have to know one thing. You and me... did you ever think about it?"
"I just always assumed you weren't interested. I didn't want to make things weird by asking."
"You mean?"
"Yeah."
"So... if I had asked?"
"In a heartbeat."
"Well, shit. Talk about wasted years."
He tried to laugh at the unfair irony, only to have it dissolve into a coughing, rasping fit. The icy grip was tightening and his hold on the world was quickly fading, he wasn't to receive the cursed gift of the loup garou like Roman had. With a slight tremble in his hand Dean reached up, wiping the pad of a bloody thumb across her cheek and tried to smile as sorrowful green eyes found blue. Her hand covered his, their fingers intertwining tightly. In that moment Dean stilled and the tension in his body went slack as cool blue eyes turned vacant, staring into nothing. Grief, anger, sorrow, it all came down at once with overwhelming, crushing force. Her fingers clutched tightly at the blood soaked material of his ruined shirt and buried her face against his neck, body wracked by deep sobs borne of a broken heart...
Paws sunk heavily into the mud underfoot as the two beasts stalked one another through the dense surrounds of the bayou. A large, shaggy head lifted a little as Roman scented the air, trying to pick up the trail of his older adversary. His focus snapped sharply to the left at a sudden disturbance only to find a small opossum sprinting out from the undergrowth and darting up the nearest tree. The distraction was brief but enough. The loup garou burst from the right, it's claws sinking deep into black furred sides as the two tumbled through the mud, teeth snapping for the throat, only to have the young blood slash at the flesh of its muzzle before kicking free.
Blood ran freely from rendered flesh as the pair squared off yet again, neither having managed to get the advantage over the other. Roman was bigger, faster and stronger, but the loup garou was a more experienced hunter and knew the lay of the land. But the old guard was beginning to fade, its endurance having been pushed to the absolute limit as their brawl drew closer and closer towards the vast swamp. Never before had it faced off against something as dangerous as itself. The storm reached its peak, as if the elements themselves knew that something was about to change.
A small opening presented itself and Roman charged, tackling the loup garou and sending them both into the shallow waters of the bayou. Water erupted all around them as they savagely fought, sending wildlife from the smallest frog to the largest alligator searching for a quieter sanctuary. Old and half rotted trunks lay partially exposed in the swamp as the old grey created separation by somehow shoving his younger challenger back, causing him to slam into one of the logs with a crack. Roman staggered, shaking his head shook a little to clear his head as the grey quickly closed in for the kill. Instinctively he dodged and enough space was left between them when he charged, the momentum carrying both of them against another half rotted tree with a sickening crunch, jagged remains of branches skewering straight through the loup garou's chest.
The storm slowly calmed, now patchy clouds slowly revealing the light of the full moon. To the victor went the spoils and hundreds of hectares of Louisiana wild lands was now Roman's to hunt, roam and protect. He made his way back to the estate, the ankle of the fallen werewolf clasped firmly in a clawed hand and dragged it unceremoniously behind him. As he approached the formerly grand, now ruined front door he released his grip and stood on the threshold, the interior quiet and still. A low growl announced his presence, Mackenzie barely registering the huge lupine beast that loomed above her mere feet away.
He could clearly see two people but only hear one heartbeat. He tilted his head to the side and sniffed, picking up the subtle scent of death under the distinct tang of blood that clung in the air as his feral mind tried to connect the dots. Something felt wrong. Heavily he dropped to all fours and closed the gap warily as Mack went back to ignoring his presence entirely, her fingers absently running through dishevelled, dirty blond locks. He growled again, but wasn't given a response. The growl turned into a savage snarl then a full on roar. After a long, drawn out moment she turned to look up at him without a hint of fear with defeated eyes.
"Whatever you're going to do, just do it."
With a confused huff he circled, wondering what to do. With a large huff he settled himself down behind her and closed his eyes, confident that there were no more threats lurking out in the dark and before long his breathing slowed into a deep, steady rhythm; he had fallen asleep.
Mackenzie didn't know how long she sat there for as she coasted along in mental numbness, unable or unwilling to let the events and future repercussions of the night truly sink in. Staring into blue for the last time Mack ran her fingers softly over Dean's face and closed his eyes. Eventually she got to her feet, allowing herself to go through the motions as she looked around for something to cover him up in. It didn't seem right to simply leave him in the middle of the floor sprawled out like that, Dean deserved better.
When the dawn broke dirt and mud mixed with the blood that stained her clothes and streaked along her skin. When Mack looked from the deep hole she had spent the better part of the early morning hours digging to the large, bulky sheet that it finally hit home. She was about to bury a friend. Someone that could have been more than a friend if either one had simply plucked up the courage to say something. In that moment it felt like she had lost everything, cheated out of any sort of happiness in one form or another. A part of her wanted to simply break down but she refused to let it win. Mack was on her own now, there was no room or energy left for emotional hysterics.
His approach had been silent, but Mackenzie knew that Roman was standing just a few feet behind her. There had been some god awful racket coming from within the house earlier, like someone was torturing an animal, before everything had fallen silent. Killing the loup garou had obviously not lifted the curse like she had hoped it would and momentarily wondered just what they were supposed to do now. Would this madness ever end? Or were they now stuck in some hellish, unbreakable cycle?
The approaching sound of tires on gravel distracted the pair of them, Mack swallowing hard when she saw the colours of the police car. Just how the hell was she supposed to explain this? Roman moved so he was standing right behind her on the left, tense as a cable wire at this new unknown. Christ, the last thing she needed was him tearing through law enforcement. The sheriff stepped out of the sedan, pushing the brim of his hat up a little as he surveyed the scene.
"Alligator?" he asked in a certain tone with a slight nod in the direction of the grave.
"Uh... yeah," Mackenzie replied after a moment, knowing anyone with a set of eyes could clearly see this was not the result of an alligator attack.
"Damn shame," he replied, shaking his head. "Any next of kin?"
"Mother. In Cincinnati. At least she was ten years a go. They were... estranged." She realised she was beginning to ramble and promptly shut up. Nervously Mack looked between the grave and the cop. How often had this actually happened for even the local police to willingly make up a story to cover the truth?
"I see." The sheriff looked over her shoulder to the large man behind her before pulling something out of his pocket. Taking a few subtle, wary steps he handed over his card with several numbers printed on it. "When you're up to it call me with the details and I'll handle the rest."
With a tip of his hat the sheriff left. The curse of the Louisiana loup garou had found it's way into a new generation...
Talk about your finicky chapters.
Apologies that an update took so long. The latter part of this year has not been kind and left me with a 'can't be arsed' attitude while I dealt (and continue to deal) with a few things. As far as I'm concerned 2015 can't get here fast enough. You better pay up, karma, you owe me big time!