Luke continued fixing up headquarters. Bought more paint and remnants of carpet, small batches of unused tile. Also started scrounging and repairing furniture.
Had ideas for The Jade Wolf running in the background: he'd start simple: rip out what was too far gone, scrub up what was salvageable. He was sitting on an overturned bucket, brainstorming what to do about insulation, when Gabriel, Alaric, and Gretel came to see him.
"Quite the busybody, ain't ya?" Luke went to stand, but Gabriel waved him down. "And now we'll see if you're smart too, and not just your sister, 'cause this should come as no surprise: I've been doing this job too damn long. Even got some upstarts from other packs thinking they can take me on. Apparently, I've lost my touch. Honestly, think the only reason they stopped was because you showed up. Wild card.
"Also got family down south – grandkids. I know, a fucker like me, a grandpa – but if I was ever going to do it, I gotta do it now. My kids need the help: make it up to them, be the man I wasn't, all that jazz. Already discussed it with Heidi and Alaric. When I first saw you, thought you might be something of a godsend, but had to stick around, make sure you were up to it."
Luke clasped his paint-stained hands, stared down at the broken floor. Should have known. Had enough hints. Was getting deference from most of the pack. Only exception really was these three, but he didn't think he'd get accepted that fast, for this to be an issue just yet. Knew Gretel didn't want the top. Wasn't good enough with the politics of it all. Punch first, talk later sort of gal. But exactly who you'd want in a pinch. Knew she'd back him in anything, as long as she was loyal to him. Alaric kept cool dealing with the pack, a stalwart, calm presence, but had no patience for the vampires, or the fay. Or the Nephilim or warlocks. Could lead the others into unnecessary trouble.
The ultimate and final test of Gabriel's: if Luke didn't take this cleanly, he wouldn't step down. Would never see if he could be the man his kids always wished him to be. Luke could fend off the other packs from his current position but it undermined Gabriel's, and Gabriel already knew that. Why he wanted to pass the torch now. Keep things stable. Keep them strong.
He had no reason to turn this down: he was capable, he'd done it before. Couldn't honestly suggest that anyone here could do it better. Only question was whether he wanted it or not. The responsibility. The trouble of it all. Would be placing a target on his back. Would need to put down the packs Gabriel was talking about. Let them decisively know this turf was spoken for.
Yet he was sitting on a bucket, plaster in his hair, scheming how to make this place better. Had two girls living at his house. Said he'd wanted to look after them. Bat and Duffy – young and on their own. All the others – Natasha, the unspoken elder the women gathered around, who had asked him to get Maia and Malarie out of here. The older men playing chess. The crew who worked behind the bar at The Hunter's Moon, and the crew who worked behind the scenes keeping it clean. The ones who cooked here at home. The ones who were gradually starting to relax, looking around at this abandoned building like maybe it was home.
He lifted his eyes, regarded Gretel, haired pulled back in a tight braid, arms held tightly behind her back, and asked her, "Anything you need from me? For this to work?"
"One question, sir: is the legend true? You took down the one who turned you? First day?"
"I found him. The first day. The fight took a bit longer."
"Wish I could say the same. About the one who turned me. Alas, it was someone else who ended up taking her out. Your Nephilim training clearly came in handy. It took me longer to learn how to fight."
"You caught up."
"Thank you, sir."
Gabriel let out a whoop. Things were going his way. "Sonuvabitch had no idea what was coming for him. Grateful to him, in a weird way: you wouldn't be here if he had. How about you, Alaric? Anything you need to say?"
"How do you feel about bikes, sir?"
"Like my truck better, to be honest."
"Course! You're hauling shit all over town!" Gabriel laughed, got a laugh out of Alaric too, only a tiny crinkle of a smile from Gretel. Luke continued: "But I'm figuring in a better place for you all to store them. You want to take a ride though? I've got a house, some land upstate. Good as place as any to take on any challengers."
"How many houses do you have, man? But you've been tidying up their den for weeks now; let's see if we've got a dumbass who wants to challenge. Also put your truck to use, haul some booze." Gabriel clapped him on the back, grinning ear to ear.
Just as he had decried why it was his fate to end up in the woods with a knife twice, he wondered if this was also a role he couldn't avoid. But it was different this time. He was being given the reins. The second and third approved. He cared about these people, had immediately. Guess it was time to set down deeper roots.
He stopped at home. The girls had already heard. Told him they wanted to ride up with Bat and Duffy. Probably for the best. Could use the drive to steel himself. Also armed himself: the Morgenstern kindjal was sure getting a lot of use. Took the crossbow too. For sentimental reasons, wasn't really expecting to shoot anyone. The blade was more for show. Proving to the pack and to Gabriel, he was serious. Didn't really think anyone would challenge.
Not when he was wielding a knife he'd killed with before.
He thought he'd prepared himself for anything, but wasn't prepared for a party. Pulling down the long driveway, that earlier arrivals had shoveled the snow off of, lights on in the farmhouse, music pounding, smoke coming up out the chimney. People gathered outside, exploring the grounds.
Was greeted by cheers that sounded more like howls when he stepped out of his truck. Pushed inside, handed a full plate from the kitchen that was being put to good use, and he shook his head and sighed. Everyone had already known. Magnus had probably planned this from the start. Only he was surprised. To be on the threshold, this precipice. The wolf was pleased. Very pleased. Not only to lead, but to be with its own kind. Still, after laying low so long, he had never expected to rise so quickly to a head position in New York's Downworld.
Nevertheless, despite being momentarily taken aback by the festivities, he let out the wolf's energy, that he'd wrapped around himself like a mantle on the ride here, then interwove it with his own and extended it outward, far past himself and his two employees at the bookshop.
Gabriel wasted no time in making it official once everyone was there. Went out on the lawn, snow crunching underneath their feet. Reported what was happening and asked if anyone had a problem with that.
And when no one did, Gabriel was the first to kneel, quickly followed by everyone else, while Luke alone remained standing, remembering the first time a wolf pack had kneeled before him, when he was young and bloody and battered.
He raised his hand, and they rose with it.
The nights were long, this time of year, and it was surreal to see this place he went to retreat packed: singing and dancing, chatting, card games and gambling, then bodies curled up to sleep wherever they could find space, as the sun started to rise. They left his bedroom alone; being pack leader had some perks, as he settled down himself for what in all likelihood would only be quick nap.
Took off the kindjal from the back of his jeans, but he was restless, so he looked at the blue stones studding the hilt in the growing light. Pulled it out of its sheath, heavily textured with swirls and arrows and the top studded with the same blue stones, to see the star carved onto the blade.
Let himself wonder for a moment where Valentine was, then threw an arm over his eyes, chuckling at a bad joke: Took over another pack, just to spite you.
Luke bided his time, got used to everyone changing their address of him to Sir and Boss, as the girls had made popular. Knew he would be tested by forces outside the pack. Kept an eye out for the packs Gabriel had mentioned. Started to see Magnus on a more regular basis. Socially, but also to solidify their alliance. "I admit, it was somewhat calculated. Gabriel had been at the helm for a long time – perhaps with their love of bikes, at the wheel, is a more appropriate metaphor – and it is no secret wolves do better in packs. I thought it might be good for you, too. No need to hide, with Jocelyn's secret out. However, can you ever find it in your heart forgive me?" Magnus had asked, in jest, cat eyes large, but not mocking. "But don't worry, I'll put in a good word for you with the rest of the Downworld. Let them know I have your back, should any trouble occur. The least I can do for you, really. I know my investment will be worthwhile though. The pack will be a lot more manageable under your watch."
And it was Magnus who introduced him, at one of his parties, to the leader of the local vampires, Camille. He sensed some history, between her and Magnus, but decided not to ask. Immortals were bound to run into each other, from time to time, but she was impossibly glamorous, frivolous and having a good time, easily introducing her second, Raphael, who'd had the extra misfortune of being turned young; a broken taboo, even amongst the children of the night.
The fay were harder to find. As usual, for them. But he did receive an anonymous bouquet, green and glowing, of white clover. The older wolves in the pack assured him it was a good sign. Magnus did too. "Oh, you know how they are, speaking in riddles. They're just letting you know they know. No need to overthink it: it's good luck, basically. Believe me, you'd know if they were angry. They have no trouble, getting that message across."
And of course, he had to reintroduce himself to the Clave. At least, its representatives, so at their invitation he dropped by the New York Institute. Was strange to step inside, something that so screamed Alicante, and to see old friends, twenty years later on in their lives. Maryse and Robert did him the courtesy of introducing their children: their oldest, Alexander, obviously driven, whom he had already heard so much about from Magnus; their flirtatious middle child Isabelle, clearly taking more after her father, though he doubted she knew that; and their youngest Maxwell, eager to catch up to his siblings. All of them bearing a notable resemblance to their parents: Alec in particular, being a dead ringer for his mother.
And he got to shake Hodge's hand, even though there were so many unanswerable questions between them all. The burden and the inequality of their punishments: that Valentine ran free, while Hodge could not step foot outside; the loss of Robert's parabatai – Jocelyn had mentioned seeing Michael again and meeting his son, Jonathan – through exile. And it was probably mystifying, that Alec was currently undergoing the tests to become Jace Herondale's parabatai, the son of another old associate, and it was Valentine's daughter who'd introduced them.
Even for himself: they'd all been quick to abandon him when he'd turned, and his own rebellion against the Circle had precipitated their current fates.
"Just so you know, things are changing," Isabelle assured him, seeming to intuitively sense, it would be best to lighten the mood. "Alec is dating Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, and I've dated Downworlders too. Who knows, I might be dating one of your wolves soon."
"Hodge is family," Alexander had also proudly declared. "He's been our tutor."
And Luke noted the irony, how they'd all flocked around Valentine for a sense of belonging, yet these three had been thrown together for the last fifteen years, and like he and Amatis, Hodge had ended up playing a pivotal role in the lives of his peers' children.
Simon was somewhat shocked when Luke broke the news to him, but as usual, deferred to humor. "So you're… top dog? The top dog of Brooklyn just bought me a sandwich? I'm sorry, that might be the weirdest part of this whole thing. Even weirder than a bunch of wolves running a bookstore." Maia and Malarie had grown accustomed to Simon stopping by with his lists. They enjoyed getting to talk to someone their own age.
Amatis too, seemed somewhat stunned. "They're treating you alright, aren't they? Tell them if they don't, they'll have to deal with me." A two-for-one, brother-sister deal. It was privately amusing, but they both knew he had to fight his own battles.
Clary, like Simon, found the whole thing rather amusing. "You gotta score card going? How many packs you can take over? And you didn't even have to fight for it? Even more of an accomplishment, since, correct me if I'm wrong, but werewolves don't exactly seem like the type to weigh the pros and cons, have a nice discussion about it."
Was bittersweet to see her. Never could have taken on Maia and Mal without first taking care of her, and now her room was no more. Thought she handled it with disguised grace, Simon introducing her to the girls, talking to them like they were old friends. Jumping right in to her new world. The girls appreciated it too, that not all Shadowhunters were necessarily the enemy.
Jocelyn's reaction was complicated, as were his feelings. When she came to Brocelind Forest the first time, it had been at once joyous and heartbreaking: it fueled his longings that they might one day be together, particularly when she said she was no longer happy with Valentine. Yet it had been easier to go on with no reminders of his previous life.
But just as she did in the past, she walked through the dilapidated doors to The Jade Wolf, into the slowly improving police station, as a Shadowhunter. Because he said he was getting ready to paint a large section, and she insisted on helping. But just as Isabelle said, maybe things really were changing, for the pack was more curious about her than anything else. The other pack had been curious too – the first and only time he had been, with all seriousness, asked if a woman was his bitch. His stunned silence had told them all they needed to know – but he could tell this pack was questioning too, just what they were to each other.
Now, Jocelyn's presence was simply one he was long accustomed to: running as children, walking home from school, sitting by reading while she drew – extending forward, to her walking in the door with food after a full moon had completely wiped him out, and the two of them outside in the summer at the farmhouse, vaguely keeping an eye on Clary and Simon, as they ran around. So they laid down drop cloths, picked up rollers, Jocelyn got hands on her precious paint, even if it was for a wall and not a canvas.
"I've missed it," she noted, when they took a break. "But I also want them to talk: have it widely known you've got more allies than just Magnus."
He bowed his head in unexpected gratitude, and she added what so many had been saying to him lately, "It's the least I can do. Clary wants to come over too, but I told her no. Wouldn't know how to handle herself – the girls at the shop are one thing, this a whole other. Hypocritical of me, I suppose, I waltzed into your first pack when I wasn't much older than she is, but I worry she still thinks this is all a game. At least I had sense enough to be terrified."
"I was terrified too, when I waltzed in. Such dread, that the world was ending."
"Your world had ended, Lucian. But mine began, the moment I saw you again. When I realized I had a fighting chance. That I had allies, but Clary, it all comes so easily to her, it's given her false confidence – just like her father – oh, who am I kidding, it all came to me easily, too."
"The blessings of both her parents."
Then Jocelyn bowed her head, but to his surprise, in shame, confirmed by her apology, "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
She looked to him as though he should already know. "For always forgetting what he is to you. For always reminding you, I think of him as my greatest mistake."
He shook his head. "You have your reasons."
She sighed. "I love Clary. Valentine is apart of her. And of course our son."
"Has Jonathan warmed up to you, at all?"
"Of course not. Clary's still not keen on her father, either."
"Stubborn lot, the all of you."
"True. And I'm determined to get as much of this done as I can." She gestured towards the walls. "So let's get back to it."
Despite her enthusiasm to help, there was still obvious sadness on both their parts. Their paths diverged, once again. First he left and she came to find him, then she left and he found her, however this time, they left each other.
Different this time, was that Valentine had recently told him he was no longer interested in Jocelyn, and Luke had told him the same. The idea of Valentine often made him feel faint, made the world start spinning, so often, he stuck to the work he could get his hands on, problems he knew how to solve. Maybe, like Jocelyn, he should just accept he and Valentine's paths diverged. Had a long time ago. Accept that he would be hearing about him, ships passing in the night. As he had accepted the convergence of his two names, Luke and Lucian, which for so long had been separate. As he had accepted Jocelyn was back in Alicante and he was the alpha of a werewolf pack.
Last summer could remain a blip on the radar – an anomaly. Seemed like a fever dream, even when he was laying in the bed Valentine had supposedly been in with him. Was it the heat of the moment, of summer, of the long ago burning of the parabatai rune? It was so hard to remember what he'd been thinking before it had been so spectacularly derailed, and the many weeks after spent as a werewolf were hazy, discombobulated. Wasn't very aware of his body or that he was even in one. A consciousness floating, frequently knocked out, sleeping, falling.
Then there were rare moments, clear like summer rain, where he knew they were not done. Even when days turned into weeks, and no word, but those days were busy: Maia and Malarie running the shop on their own, Luke working the early morning then relieving them at five, having spent the time in between tooling around headquarters. Stopping in nightly to The Hunter's Moon. He enjoyed being on the go, roaming around. Sometimes the girls wanted to come to the bar with him; sometimes he acquiesced and they'd get a coke. But their living with him centered his home in a way he'd not expected, gave it light and a warmth.
He saw Magnus, wrote his letters to Amatis, and his world became even larger when Duffy led him, abashed, to the closet Maia and Malarie used to occupy and inside was a heavily pregnant dog.
"I'm sorry, Boss. She's been hanging around work. Me and the guys there have been feeding her scraps. But look at her, it's cold out there."
Luke was surprised Duffy had even been able to catch her; normally animals avoided them like the plague, but maybe, once again, it was any port in a storm, even if it was a lion's den.
Still, she seemed calm, grateful – Duffy had made her a bed out of a box and blankets – as Luke gently gave her a look over: her coat was ratty, but he could see the puppies moving around; had some scratches on her, and was worried her ears and paws might be frostbitten. Didn't look terrible, but he couldn't tell for sure.
"Can she stay, Boss? I'll take care of her, get her food. The puppies too. The guys at work said they'd chip in, help me get 'em fixed."
"Let's get her to a vet. You free?" So it was that Duffy holding his newfound lady, sat next to Luke in the bench seat of his truck, and they walked all three together through the doors, expecting to initiate a wall of terrified howls and meows from those waiting.
There was uneasiness and tension from the animals present, but it did not escalate beyond that, and fortunately Princess, as Duffy had dubbed her, was in surprisingly good health, and so were her puppies. Could have been a whole lot worse, and it was worth every penny hearing Duffy's excited chatter to her, complimenting her on her new collar on the way home.
And soon, the pack was celebrating a birth: six puppies, curled up against their mother. With Duffy on guard, she slowly started to allow others to come by, and headquarters was happy, playful, seeing pups start to scamper around. Relaxed everyone getting greeted by and petting them. Luke would take them out next full moon. Lock them up at his place for the nights. Otherwise, they were here to stay.
But word got around and the upstarts Gabriel had mentioned must have seen it as a sign that the new leadership was soft, because Luke got a tense call from Bat at the bar, asking him to come over. So Luke grabbed the kindjal and drove. The Hunter's Moon was packed, and it wasn't just his pack. Another had squeezed their way in. He was glad for Gretel's cool authority in his absence. A fight amongst juniors wouldn't resolve or prove anything. Had to be him, and if the other alpha thought this sort of intimidation would scare him, he must think very little of Luke indeed.
As it turned out, Luke didn't think much of him either, once he got a look at him. Probably was pretty good in a fight. Strong jaw, broad forehead, a fearsome grin. Bulging muscles. Could understand why Gabriel was concerned: this man was too sure of himself, but a real threat wouldn't have done this, wouldn't provoke him in front of mundanes. Would have walked straight into headquarters and done it direct. This was a test, but unlike Gabriel's, one Luke had little patience for. Seemed downright cowardly, actually.
"What do you want?" Luke asked him.
"Having a drink. Tastes like shit." Knocked over his glass, spilling amber liquid across the bar, dripping onto floor. He'd suspected but this proved – no talking with this one. Still, he'd give him a chance.
"Don't drink, then." His opponent was momentarily silenced but added, after staring him down, "Wanted to see you, too."
"You've seen me."
"Think you're real cool, 'cause you don't talk much? You ain't anything special. In fact I'm thinking of expanding my territory. What do you have to say to that?"
"Walk away. I won't ask you twice."
"You think I'm asking–?" Whatever, if anything, he was going to say after that was replaced by the crack of his skull slamming into the remnants of the beer he had just spilled, Luke gripping his greasy hair. After the initial shock, he started to struggle, but Luke kept his head pinned to the bar. Kicked his legs out from under him when he tried to stand. Twisted his arm behind his back when he tried to grab hold, and Luke leaned down to discuss with him, as privately as they could, "You really want to fight me? Just say the word. I'll let you up, and we'll step outside. Go somewhere we won't be disturbed."
He shook his head, but at first Luke assumed that was another attempt to break free. It was only when he slapped his palm, not at Luke, but down on the bar, tapping a steady beat, that Luke let him go. Didn't relax, didn't entirely trust what he would do, but both packs had seen him surrender, and though they were often a reckless bunch, these laws of combat were observed by all but the lowest of them. Luke wouldn't attack again, if he didn't provoke.
"Guess my own territory is fine, for the time being," he conceded, wouldn't entirely admit defeat, but Luke was alright with that. Called Gretel over and had her escort him out, as Luke scanned the room, taking a good look at the members of this pack, seeing if anyone caught his eye, wanted a fight, but no one did. All looked down, then filed out.
Luke stayed awhile, at first at the bar, then to a booth – Gabriel's, now his. Alaric and Gretel sat with him. Could tell they were pleased how he'd handled things. It was one thing to know he could fight, but up till now, they'd not seen him have reason to. For his own part, he was keeping his mind and expression blank. Everyone was already riled, didn't want to add to it, so he slowly let himself settle, from fighting ready to attentive, couldn't let it slip into regret, either.
He'd followed his instinct to strike hard. No other way to stop him from coming. Didn't exactly like it, but it was part of the job description. Just didn't want to appear out of control, either. So he kept sitting, till his muscles calmed down, till his hands stopped pounding, till his heart rate evened out. Then he stood and the pack gave him their full attention. He waved goodbye, got in his truck, and drove home.
The girls looked at him a bit wide-eyed, when he walked in the door, the two of them on the couch and the television on. No doubt, they'd already heard the news, but he merely nodded to them, then went straight to the kitchen to raid the fridge, eating the equivalent of about three meals in one. Should have gotten something on the way home, but he wasn't hungry then.
"You alright, Boss?" Maia braved asking, as the two shuffled over to the table, taking seats across from him.
"Fine," Luke mumbled, kept his focus on the food, except Malarie was encouraged to blurt, "Did you really kick the other alpha in the face?!"
"Some teeth were definitely knocked loose," Maia added, satisfied. "From the sounds of it, you knocked the shit out of that guy. And the fact you run a bookstore makes it even better."
"The glasses, too," Malarie weakly joked, but Maia picked it up. "Went from Clark Kent to straight up Superman, Boss. Have to confess, I wasn't entirely sure you had it in you."
Wasn't the first time he'd heard something like that, but after appeasing his stomach, could see more clearly how nervous they'd been, so he tried for a smile, reached over and tousled Maia's hair. "You gunning for me too? Gabriel said to keep my eye on you."
"Did he really?" She was genuinely surprised.
"I think you could do it one day. If you want. I wasn't much older than you, my first time. But do us both a favor, alright? Let me run the ship for awhile."
"Alright, Boss. And we'll remember in the future that if you ever get challenged, we need to go out and buy a shit-ton of groceries – really, it's no fair you can pack it down like that and stay fit. That some secret alpha power? What the hell? If so, I might be gunning for you after all."
"Nice of you to warn me, in advance."
"Yep, we'll just duke it out at a McDonald's, get some burgers after. But all this talk of food is making me hungry – can I have some?" Luke handed over the bag of potato chips, then indicated towards the television. "What were you watching?"
Maia nonchalantly shrugged. "I don't really remember, to be honest with you."
"We're just really glad you're alright, sir!" Malarie said.
"Kind of a rough night, you know?" Maia sighed.
"Well, everything's alright. I'm alright; go to sleep, if you need to," Luke encouraged, but
Maia was quiet, no comeback for once, and it was Malarie who shyly asked for them both, "If you don't mind, can we just hang out with you, for awhile? Watch something?"
So he brought the bag of chips with him, settled on the couch, turned on a late night talk show. Put his arm around Malarie, when she inched her way closer to him. Grieved for a moment he didn't know what to do to comfort her, then accepted this was enough. Was eventually lulled enough, by the flickering television, to remove the sheath that was digging into his back, and place it on the coffee table.
"That's a wicked looking dagger, Boss," Maia mumbled, half-asleep. "Seeing that, I want no part in leading the pack."
"It's beautiful in a terrible sort of way," Malarie concurred, curled into his side, before closing her eyes once again.
He let the show finish out, then turned it off, roused the two of them, gently propelled them to their bedroom, then hopped in the shower.
Strange, that Valentine had once stood there too.
There were many theories circulating about what had occurred at The Hunter's Moon. Most greatly exaggerated. Some involved the two alphas cussing each other out, others a full blown bar brawl. "No matter what my friend, you have – without a doubt – established yourself in our local corner of the Downworld," Magnus said at their next meeting.
The pack was invigorated, proud, but he kept his head down, did not want to make too big a fuss over it. Had something more important on his mind: leading them through his first full moon as the leader. Wouldn't be able to keep such a close eye on the girls, but Natasha said she'd do what she could. And so he spent three sleepless nights, patrolling and policing, but his latest showing of strength must have appeased them, for it was relatively peaceful. He was pleasantly surprised.
Wouldn't describe his reaction shortly after that moon, to a familiar raven knocking at his window as the same – when the shop was closed and the girls had already gone out. But he went to retrieve the message, hands and fingers fumbling as he unfolded it. Was somewhat stunned the raven did not fly off immediately, even followed him inside, perching on the back of one of his dining table chairs, as he read uncomprehendingly what was written, taken aback by the familiar elegant script – the same hand that had etched runes onto his skin, so many times – congratulating him on his new appointment and inviting him to dinner. An upscale place, knew it by name, but he'd never been. How'd Valentine even get a reservation, but he had, about two weeks from now. The weekend. Friday night.
The girls had been talking – Magnus had a party planned that night. Would be convenient enough, to get away without them noticing. Perhaps Valentine already knew that, picked it for just that reason. He'd have to dress well, dig out his one suit. So it was finally time. Face his nightmare, or his fantasy, he wasn't sure which. Only that he had to go.
Wrote out his response with a fumbling hand, letters stretched and distorted, but legible. The raven was patient as he reattached the scroll, then opened the door so it could take off. Return back to its master.