Draco's heart pounded inside his skull. His face was on fire and his whole body was cramping. Muscles tore and bones crackled. His eyes popped open and filled with the massive silver moon floating low above the trees.
A shiver rippled over his body. Naked? Why was he laying in the grass?
He rolled and pushed, but his left leg was throbbing mush. His fingers caught metal and he pulled up, but crashed sideways. Hooves beat the ground beside him and bleating pierced his ear.
Why am I in a goat pen?
One lowered its head, jumped, and rammed his chest, but his nails hooked behind its neck and tore. Like last night, the hunger was blinding and he couldn't stop until his mouth was stuffed full of bloody grass and dirt. His face plunged into a bucket and glugged water. The scent of pickles filled his senses and he was soon shoveling handfuls of sour pellets and grit down his gullet.
More water and the muck in his brain started to clear. Dolomite lime and bone meal? He crunched his eyes closed against the throbbing in his leg. Why am I eating a bucket of dirt... Calcium and magnesium? Black caked staples ran down his leg from his hip to his ankle. Jolts and itching erupted as the inside of his leg squirmed like eels.
His knee slithered and crackled. Something snapped it straight, then inflated. He gritted his teeth against the jolts and cramps and staples tearing through the meat in his leg, His nails ripped them loose but pink flesh twined into the jagged incision. More water and another goat brought him back up on both feet. His leg worked now, and it didn't even have scars from hacking all the bones out. Whatever Rosencrantz wanted, he would pay for the recipes. Money, property, it didn't matter.
Out! He needed to get out of the chain link prison. He grabbed the closest post, braced, and heaved. The fence creaked and groaned and then a ball of concrete tore out of the ground.
"Stupid bastard! Hey! The gate! Use the damned gate!" The veterinarian's eyes burned fiery red and he had a dart gun trained on his chest.
Draco scrubbed his eyes. "Sorry." He stuffed it back in the hole and flicked a quick spell to anchor it. The old man unlatched the door and let him out.
Another man's scent caught his attention, and then Rodier's. The General sounded disappointed. "How did he end up here?"
Rodier's silver snout looked at the ground as he wrung his beret. "Sorry sir. We didn't know." The git had the act down.
The blast of cold water was like heaven washing the pain off his body. He scrubbed at the brown slick of iodine and crusted chunks of blood. A squirt of dish soap leff him feeling and smelling like a lemon scented new man.
Rodier passed him a uniform. Of course, the pranksters brought him one five sizes too small. He wouldn't give them the pleasure of the tantrum, so he simply charmed it to automatically resize. The food, the wash, and now the clothes made him feel like a proper wizard again.
The General had a hand on the veterinarian's shoulder. "Doctor Pietrocelli, engage voluntare Malbec is extremely thankful for your kindness, and your skill. I wish he had waited a few more weeks until the appointment we had scheduled to remove the British parole tracker, but you know how impatient young men can be."
The old man's eyes were glassy. "Of course. Glad to help a wesen in need. So then payment will be made as usual, when he receives his first paycheck."
The general gave him a wink. "Absolutely."
He didn't care what the bill was. He would take care of the old man.
Draco stared, slackjawed, at the gristly lump laying on a metal workbench. Three bones as long as his leg were encased in a snarl of gleaming silver wire. "That came out of my leg?"
The vet nodded as he passed Draco a clipboard and a pen. He scrawled his new signature across the bottom while the old man groused. "Those British bastards have no respect for decency or Wesen lives. Thirty-three kilometers across the channel and it's a different world. That's what happens when you let wizards run things. Serves them right, all the sanctions."
-/-
Half a dozen turns down the warren of cobble stone lined alleys brought them to the back door of a dive bar. The General cupped Draco's forearm and pushed his thumb into the tattooed skull's empty nose. Warmth radiated as a dull glow spread over the dark mark. "Are you well enough to return the Corporal to base?"
"Yes, sir."
"Quietly. We don't want to wake the kehrseiten or disrupt Captain Rosencrantz's medical efforts... Again." The words were highlighted by an exaggerated eye roll. "Then come meet with me before you return to assist with the induction activities. You know how to find me?" Fiery yellow flickered through the eye sockets of the general's skull tattoo.
He could feel the general's heartbeat when his dark mark warmed. It would be more of a challenge not to apparate straight to him. "I should be able to, sir."
"Excellent. Fifteen minutes, then."
With that, the general evaporated into the night mist without even the slightest ripple. A feat in itself which left Draco admiring the control it took.
He turned to Rodier. The werewolf was twenty paces away, panting fast and his ears pulled back. "You're going to do that wizard magical disappearing shit?"
"You heard the general."
"We should take a car."
Draco flapped a hand between the two of them. "A car? Look at you. Look at me!"
Rodier was pacing again. His eyes flared red. "Blew up all over Rosencrantz and the recruits."
"I splinched because of the British Ministry implant. It shut down my brain. You saw what it did to my leg."
Rodier was going to resist. He stiffened and scowled. Draco crossed his arms. "It will be a lot worse if you fight it. You saw what happened to me."
The werewolf bolted, but Draco's Petrificus was faster. His fiery eyes burned hot, but his body was stuck. A quick arm secured Rodier and the world swirled into a rainbow. Magic twisted and stretched them through the space between the light and his feet hit ground. He released Rodier, who instantly bolted twenty feet away. His breath was heaving in and out. Draco waved a flourish. "See. Fun."
The werewolf snarled as he patted over his whole body and then looked around at the concrete buildings and flag pole. Draco spun as he lunged and caught Rodier's jaws on his forearm. The world around him had already evaporated into a haze of outstretched light. He was hammering punches into Rodier's lower jaw while the werewolf's teeth crunched the bones in his arm. His claws ripped into Draco's chest as night fog swirled off and shit them out twenty feet above a whizzing jumble of streaking lights and honking horns. He smashed into a car hood, bounced off the windshield, and crashed through a steel post while Rodier tumbled the other way. Tires screeched and steel smashed as he crashed headfirst into a tall, green column bathed in white light.
Cars!
Silver moonlight roared into him, and he tore shattered chunks of a cast iron fence out of his chest and legs. He stumbled once as his strength and focus snapped into full blast. His hand pushed off the concrete as he leapt towards the crashed cars. The air reeked of gasoline and antifreeze. A dozen flare spells burst from his fingertips and stuck to the road like roaring bond fires at five meter intervals. A woman's shrieks pulled his attention to the first car. The crumpled front end stank of burning fur and meat. He braced under the bumper and heaved, unearthing Rodier's mangled, silver-haired body. He hauled the unconscious werewolf behind the Bastille monument and cast a camouflage charm over him.
The woman was screaming again. She was flailing with the door and banging on the window. Orange flames belched out of her hood. The ground around the car was slicked with oil and antifreeze. The window crumbled like sand when he punched it. He grabbed the door frame, braced his foot, and pulled with all his might. The door screeched and twisted. The lock broke with a bang and the door flew out of his hands. He tore through the billowy mass of the exploded airbag. The woman's eyes shot wide open and she transformed. Black feathers sheeted her body. Her face sprouted a sharp beak, and talons slid out of her orange, scaly fingertips. She shrieked out a piercing scream that rattled his brain.
His mind locked on Food. Metallic pops and sparks flew. The most delicious thing in the world gave way to the acrid stench of burning rubber. He shook the cobwebs out, and yelled, "Your car is on fire! Get out!"
Her claws dug grooves into the door skin as she twisted. Her struggling turned into another round of brain melting shrieking when Rodier slammed into the center of his back. The silver haired werewolf clambered over him straight for the trapped Steinadler. He grabbed him by the ankle, threw him off, and slammed an imperius up Rodier's nose mid lunge. The werewolf careened over him and hit the back door full speed, spinning the car halfway around in a screeching fireball. With no better idea about what to do with the car and the stuck woman, they peeled the back door along with most of the roof off before tearing the seat out of the floor. They deposited the shaking woman, seat, broken legs, and all on the curb.
His skin was full of ants from the flaming uniform drizzling black tendrils over charred meat. Pink flesh wove into gaps where Rodier's skin was burnt off. Hunger pains were making him crosseyed. Rodier was sniffing around the woman. Her shaking, squawking, and flapping left Draco throbbing to kill her.
The General appeared at his side. "Malbec! What's this?"
"There was an accident, sir."
His eyes moved to were-Rodier. "And him?"
"He refused to stay on base. He said I'd get lost."
The general's lips pursed and he scowled. "Get out him of here before the Kehrseiten show up or the two of you go all stupid and eat somebody."
He doubled his precautionary spells against Rodier panicking and swirled into a haze of rainbow light. They materialized outside the hospital and he waved over the police officer from the night before.
The man's teeth gritted hard and his eyes flared red. "What the hell are you doing here with a Lycanthrope?"
"He's not contagious. We were hit by a car. It caught on fire."
The officer's nose curled. "You and cars! You're like the bad luck fairy. You both reek of it. Around back. Hurry."
They snuck to the loading docks and Draco smashed himself completely senseless on the door frame. The stars cleared just in time to grab Rodier's ankle and haul him off the officer. The werewolf was on him in a second. He punched and kicked and ripped his arm out of it's mouth just in time to duck the baton of a very angry wolf wesen police officer. The officer's eyes burned fiery red and his sharp teeth gleamed as he pounded half a dozen dents into Rodier's skull. "Crazy motherfucker!"
Rodier shook once and stumbled. The dents in his head popped out and he lunged, pinning the officer to the wall.
Draco blasted imperiuses into both of them and had the officer lead. Two floors down and fifty-three turns later, double doors swung open into an ice cold room filled with the familiar scent of disinfectant laced death. Automatic lights flickered and hummed, sending greenish light rippling over stainless steel. The officer flicked through the pages of a clipboard, mumbled, "No next of kin," and pointed to some drawers.
Rodier yanked the stainless steel shelf off of it's mountings and buried his snout into a fat man's corpse.
Draco was going to be sick. It was the most vile, disgusting thing he had ever seen, but blinding hunger snatched the reigns. His vision focused and he recoiled, throwing the gnawed lump of a hand back on the table. The officer was laughing. "Didn't think you had it in you, did you? Probably grew up eating wheatabix and fried eggs like the Kehrseiten."
He passed the officer a vial of wiggenweld. The man turned up his nose when the rancid stench hit him, but Draco pushed it on him. "You need to drink that."
"A few scratches from a wildling?" He picked up the remains of the hand Draco had been working on. "Nothing a finger sandwich won't fix." He elbowed Draco as he crunched bones. "I may as well help you two perform tonight's civic duty." Draco quirked an eyebrow. The officer continued, "Each one of these idiots costs the city five thousand euros to bury. They come here from Bulgaria, Poland, and Albania, get run over by cars, jump out windows, and whatever stupid foreigners do to die. This Slav drank half a case of wine and fell off a roof. There's nobody to claim him, so guess who has to pay? Come on, fill that belly. I can't let you two go after a live one while you're riding the moon."
What the hell was the idiot talking about? This was one hundred percent Rosencrantz's super potion magic. Speaking of which... He downed the vial the officer refused and a minute later was shoveling guts and lungs down his gullet like manna from heaven when the hunger slapped the sense straight out of his brain.
Rodier's laugh shook him out of his stupor. He quit licking the empty table top, coughed, and spat out a cigarette butt. The werewolf and the officer were throwing bits of flesh and trash onto the metal table in front of him. Rodier slapped his leg. "They'll eat anything. They run them so hard they'll eat the rubber tire right off a truck if you smear a little peanut butter on it. See? He doesn't even notice."
Draco's belly burned until a sour burp escaped, reeking of chewing tobacco, gauze, and paper clips.
Fire rippled through his dark mark. The snake twined into one eye socket and out of the mouth before hissing at him. "The General is paging me. Are you good to get back to base on your own?"
"No fucking way you're taking me on another one of those linkin-blinkin joy rides of yours. I'll be fine."
They pushed a hundred euros into the officer's hand and Draco marched off to find a more secluded spot and then swirled into a haze of rainbow night mist.
The golden winged runner glittered from it's perch atop the Bastille memorial half a kilometer away. Cars honked and headlights flashed from behind the orange barricades surrounding half a dozen ambulances and fire trucks.
The General leaned against the guard rail as his eyes scanned the mess. "Corporal Perrault's injuries are severe. We hope she will recover. I doubt she will return to service, though, given the trauma and extent of her injuries. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself and push through adveristy is without question, but I'm concerned you're in some sort of race to kill yourself. Have you ever heard, 'The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his.'"
His stomach knotted. He had told his troops the same thing. "General George Patton"
"You're no use to either me or the legion dead. Of course, it is easy to criticize actions in hindsight, but given the resources you had, could you have safely transported her back to the medical building without apparation?"
"Possibly. She was unconscious without a heartbeat when we arrived. We subsequently determined she had bled out."
"We noted injuries consistent with chest compressions, you performed CPR to resuscitate her?"
"Yes sir, and administered blood replenisher. That's how we learned of the wounds to the main artery in her left leg."
The general nodded. "Certainly a critical situation requiring an immediate action. How long would it have taken for you to transport her to the medical building?"
"Probably thirty minutes. I could not stop her bleeding. We would have had to stop to administer multiple doses of blood replenisher."
"Mauvais Dentes are not known for circumspection in the face of adversity. The windlings no doubt exacerbated the situation. It was a difficult decision and I don't find fault with your choice. I want you to consider, though, that in some situations, one life lost is preferable to two or more. They look to you for leadership. Do you remember the men's reaction after the second lieutenant lead the failed charges into the ambushes?"
He nodded. Nobody would follow the idiot. The general continued, "They are looking to you. These men will follow you into the gates or hell and fight to the death, but they will kill you if they think you are on some sort of pilgrimage to the hereafter. I fear a storm is coming and our ranks are full of plodders. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir."
The General turned and surveyed the mess behind them. "I assume you know how to obliviate?"
"Yes sir."
"There were some troubling reports of a alien ship beaming down a bearded giant with glowing eyes who was attacked by a werewolf. They said the two of them tore a car in half and tried to eat the occupant."
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Amazing the sort of stories Kehrseiten come up with."
The general nodded. "Quite the imaginations."
They both smiled.
"Be sure you're back in time to muster into formation for drill this morning. We don't want any misunderstandings about your absence."
"Yes sir."
With that, the general evaporated into the night before he could ask what sort of things muggles considered plausible. Perhaps flobberworms and a hippogriff? He hadn't seen any here, but he also hadn't spent that much time with Ada discussing the finer points of "normal" muggle life. Rodier may not be particularly helpful given the current situation, but that bludbaden police officer... He slid behind the Bastille monument and focused on the man's location an instant before the world evaporated into a spinning kaleidoscope.