A pair of windows with carved shutters stood open to the night, their ledges three feet deep revealing the fortress thickness of the walls. Ceilings carved in Arabic honeycombs with tipped beaks biting at the sky. Calvin followed Issa with rampant interest. She showed him things up in the tomb, a secret lair of hers, hidden, away from the prying eyes. Things that he liked to see. They were a conundrum but they were his conundrum.“Last we talked, you said the transfusion works like resurrection.” There was sick awe in his voice. It also reflected in the old lady, who had given up on her spine and walked with a stick. He had also offered her to help with that but she refused. Self-service quacked at her ethics it seemed.“Yes. Yes. But not in the way you think.” She was right. They weren’t talking about dead people. Ever since he had learned to control the elemental part of any entity- quantum physics would call it an atom, at inter-atomic level, he started manipulating small things.
Their silence chased away residual hurt. It happened often between them. They were borne of ultimatums like curveballs life threw at them. Vanessa felt like she had to say this. It was the truth but the wish to keep things sohe could hurt a little more like she was hurting was hard to ignore. Last time, hurtinig him had brought not a moment of peace, onlymore bile with both her feet stuck in it, spinning her like pinwheel trying to make her reasons sound sane.“You are nothing like your father.” She knew he’d see it as an equivalent of extending an olive branch and shrug like it didn’t matter what she thought. It was abrasive the way he spoke nest.“You don’t know him.” Hands in his pocket, he let her pull heself together. Her lithe msucles moved as she scrunched her hair and he deliberately skidhis eyes to the floor. “I know you.” Was it a gamble? Speaking with false confidence and bravado. If it were, she was glad she made it. It anyhow felt like swimming through a swarm of uncerta
Crescent moon blades, all eight of them tucked safely in places his reflexes reached first were at best unnoticeable, and at worst a small dose of humiliation because anyone looking would think he had a boner in public and shift their eyes away. One advantage of being among a sexually shy crowd was this, and if the gaze lingered, they were either interested in spending the night with him or killing him, straitjacketing him weaponless. Leaving him defenseless. So when the tall blonde, relatively taller, he backtracked and took a different turn where the end of kasbah met, and a row of garbage cans lined up. It was the back of an apartment building. The southern heat beat on his back and he was damp with sweat in few minutes. Two days here, and his skin was already catching a dusty mellow gold tan. The wolf perked its ear up, there was a TV playing in the house left to him, some Arabic cooking show, the one next to it, someone was fighting loudly. Perfect. A perfect place to wait and
“Where’s Evan?” Vanessa had spent the whole ride being quite as a mouse. When the car came to a halt, it was too late to talk about something else, gauge if she’d get a straight answer or not. “In Morocco.” Noah opened the trunk of his car and grabbed her bags, headed for the cabin.“Why? Is there something that requires…?” Requires his set of skills, like he was a plumber or electrician. It felt blase to think of what he did as another job.“Yes. The money trail led to central europe but the offshore accounts of Desmond famly would never dirty their hands in money. They have valuables in Eastern Europe. It wasn’t hard to figure since Nora’s mother grew up in Morocco.” Noah was off-putting when he got this way. Answering her for the sake of it. He hardly could tell her things before, but she would rather have that than this automation in his tone that made him feel subversive.“Oh”. Noah didn’t look at her, simply climbed the stairs to open the door. Her oh could’ve meant anything,
"Only one of them." His ears still rang with the thud of a heavy body flopping fish belly white. There wasn't a drop of blood, the wolf beheaded him surgically. And the other one. It will take a miracle for him to walk again. But Noah spared her the fine details. She nodded. Then pinched the sleeves of her sweater in fists and hugged him. She hugged him, a bear hug. Beatrice called it that. For someone so small, she had a fierce strength in her hug. Noah lifted his arms then dropped them. "Why are you doing this?" He kind of didn't want to hear it. But if in truth or dare, he won't dare take comfort like he hadn't been the cause of her pain, physical pain this time around. And truth was a bitter pill to swallow. Her willow soft body pressed against his was a sweet benediction he was trying to hold out on. "Why not?" She shuddered. That's when he pulled her closer. His wolf settled with a happy sigh. Because why not."Kiss me." Her muscles wound with winches right enough to snap.
Jodie felt neutered. In her periphery, she felt Maudar move in, Thiago covered him. She wanted to put them back in their places but with what power? She didn’t even know his name. The guy who was easy to laugh at. As if he wore skin after skin, was quick to like, at least she thought so. Or her body thought so. Her team wouldn’t once they figured out he could escape so easily. For the first time, her team seemed to be a liability. There was a reason he was standing near a window. His impact, and it’d be a hefty one, he might appear lean but h wasn’t fooling her, can break through the glass of the window. The couple fighting in there, oblivious to the do or die outside would shriek, scramble but he will be out of their door in the apartment directly across the hallway that led to the main road. Gone. And what will she do? Take in her men dressed in S.W.A.T-like gear with guns blazing at houses of civilians? She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood. “What’s your name?”
"Jodie." Deceptively calm. He patted the empty space next to him, compelling her to sit down. On the bed. With him. Next to him. Even her anger stared like a confused child. She could count on one hand the number of times he had indulged her. He looked weary though. Weary of her probably, like a parent is, knowing how despicable their actions might feel but they had no choice in the matter. Except he did. He always did. If there was one person in her life who had the choice to make decisions, it'd be him. "You never go behind my back. You never order my men behind my back without talking to me first." She planted her stubborn feet. Her black leathers caught the humidity in the room, perspiration gathered at the juncture where her back ended. And she realized it was more than heat. She was nervous. Jodie couldn't remember the last time she had felt betrayed to such a degree, where he couldn't reach her. They were seven years apart in age. And yet Calvin and his mother were the only
In the year 1948, at the height of tensions after the end of World War 2, there was a decree drafted to put peace as first and foremost responsibility. The events of Nazi Germany only solidified the fact that no world was isolated from each other. The supernatural can't go on living as they had without concerns for their human brethren. Despite the factors that led to war being entirely homosapien, creatures had to live with the consequences too. They supplied armaments, regimented their soldiers and lost a lot of their population to casualties. A decree between New World Order and The Communion, the council for creatures, changeling and wolves alike, drafted the decree which entailed assistance should the other species need it. Otherwise they'd go on living as they had. The 'assistance' part was ambiguously defined. So it fell into the hands of deciding entities what it meant and how it meant. To the world, it was mainly but not limited to medical interventions. The supernaturals h