The world turned on and with it, change came. Within the core of the earth, not a physical place but somewhere beyond the ordinary sense, powers began to awaken, however briefly as planets aligned in smooth motion. For an instant, the powers were released and a cycle began that would end only one way. Doom…or delight.
The power focused on no one individual, but many, it’s changes non-specific but sending ripples like a stone falling into a pool. Waves spread, and grew, unrest among people. Men fought in duels, women screamed in childbirth and all died without hope. Men hunted and women cooked. Mortals feared and night walkers prowled, children seeming safe in innocence, adults trapped in dread. They loved, and the time continued to move.
The Old Powers rose.
And innocence was no protection, death took without care for age. Evil grew and times darkened. The Powers lived.
* * * *
True to her word, Sica stayed away from the village for a couple of months, but as soon as she felt the search for her would have died, she returned. But not to stay with Alys this time, that was too risky, both for her and Alys. She made her home in a small cave, that even had a hollow she could use for a hearth. True, it was smoke filled when she lit the fire, but warm and dry. Mostly, though, it was *hidden*.
She was still greeted cheerfully by the village people and got the usual respect, but she was puzzled by Alys’ absence. She learned however that her husband, Rob had died from one of the fevers that swept the area so frequently. The healer, an ancient woman whose face was a mass of lines and wrinkles, told Sica she had never see anyone go downhill so fast. One minute fine, and the next…gone.
“Like magic, it was,” Althea muttered, leaning closer to Sica. Her face was a mass of wrinkles, her toothy grin a gash. “But don’t you go sayin’ that to yon girl. I’d swear she’s more scared than sorrowed.” The woman eyed Sica and said something she couldn’t catch. Then, “And girl…don’t go messing in what’s beyond your skills. It’ll do you no good.”
“What?” Sica had said, wondering if maybe the healer should be training an apprentice. Althea was somewhat eccentric and the village children kept well out of her way, except to hurl the odd rock from behind a safe vantage point.
The woman just smiled slyly. “Keep away from the fortune teller’s man, my dear and maybe you’ll stay out of trouble.” She had hobbled off, taking her herbs and concoctions with her and Sica had been glad to see her go. She didn't need the woman scaring Alys, not at the moment.
All that was keeping Alys together were her children. A small comfort, Sica supposed. She knew that Alys had been deeply devoted to Rob in a way she would never experience. But she went to visit her friend often as she could, and found she was doing better than people thought. There was even the smallest hint of a smile on her face at one point.
Sica had not been there long before she went to stock up on food, in those same words where she had met Lord Blackthorn. This time, no one disturbed her, but her paranoia kept her glancing over her shoulder and on her way back, she stopped short as a cold tingle ran up her spine.
Someone was watching her. Once or twice, she thought she heard twigs snap behind. There was never anyone there, of course. She carried on, but Sica spun when she heard a softly voiced curse.
Emptiness…trees throwing shadows everywhere. Her eyes flicked back and forth, from the oak…over to the birches to moss scattered by a fallen log. But she thought, carried on the wind she heard words. Crazy, meaningless words that a child might chant. A-nigh foreign eye… alive oh alive… iron avows. Intoned in a hoarse, guttural voice that threatened, that *promised* something she didn’t want to know about.
In front of her, a shadow shifted into a vision of furs and teeth. It snapped at her before she could see what it was, but Sica kicked hard and felt her foot connect with a satisfying *crack*. Almost dropped the rabbits, but instead ran like crazy, her heart pounding in a wild rhythm. He’s going to get me, he’s going to get me. A rhythm that changed as she heard a series of growls behind her, then yipping. She risked a glance and screamed.
A pack of wolves and leading them, the biggest wolf she had seen. Black and monstrous, with one gleaming eye. Rocyon hadn’t forgotten her. And now she understood those words. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. I honour vows.
What honour had he to hunt her not alone, like the true fighter would but to hunt her like a terrified hare, right back to her bolt-hole where she would be cornered and then…that thought was too horrible to comprehend.
Her heart pounded faster, the words changing. I’m going to die, I’m going to die. And yet, there was the sense of being *alive* as she never had before, the intangible dizziness that made her feel light as air. The wish, the *yearn* to escape, that ideals meant nothing without the life to carry them out.
People would murder their family if they had to and this was why. To feel these sensations, the strain of running, the binding with the ground, the wild energy that screamed life and spirit through every pore.
‘An eye for an eye’. His venomous words came back to her with added menace. It wasn’t an eye he was after. No, Rocyon wanted life and she knew *exactly* what werewolves ate.
Panicked, like an animal she headed instinctively to her shelter. Blind instinct, blind hope. No! He would follow her and then she would be trapped, ripped to pieces. Sica changed direction and ran to the stream, towards the cottage of Alys. Past the clearing, feet thudding on the earth. She thought she heard a laugh, like that of a child. She imagined it to be a sprite, then cursed herself for thinking such childish nonsense when she needed all her wits about her.
And still the hunt went on, the trees passing in a blur, the ground disappearing under her feet and there was only the chase, the glory of outrunning, of knowing that there was hope…and there always had to be hope because without it, there was no will to live. The day that there was no hope, she might as well offer herself to Rocyon.
But then she realised that finally they had stopped chasing her. With a strange cry, the pack leader turned and ran away from her, back to the heart of the woods. She could barely believe it, but forgot as the pain kicked in. Muscles locked and she moaned in silent agony as the cramps and pains kicked in. She had to have been running for a quarter hour surely, at full speed. Sica knew she couldn’t take that kind of punishment, but it was living and in pain, or in pain then dead.
Eventually the cramps eased and she made her way back to the cave. Relief wrung her figure with sweat. She had gone far from her little haven, at least an hour or two of walking. It took longer because she went the long to avoid any trouble in the form of any slavering mutts.
But as the sun began to set in a blaze of hellfire and golden rays shot with scarlet, she reached the cave. Slinging her catch onto the ground, she stood quietly, looking about her little cave with approval.
“Home sweet cavehome,” she said aloud and grinned to herself.
“Hmm, very nice,” a voice drawled from behind her. “Not quite up to your usual standards, though.“
She whirled round, pulling out a knife and found herself looking into the disdainful face of Larch Blackthorn. His eyebrows arched as he stared at her in faint amusement. “Metal won’t do much good, I’m afraid,” he said. Before she could react, his hand snapped forward and then the dagger had shattered against the wall.
He stepped forward. “It’s so nice to see you again,” he said lazily. Sica found she was stepping backwards and forced herself to stand still as he came closer. “I believe we have some unfinished business, though. I never did punish you, for trespassing on my lands, for shooting Rocyon - although possibly you saved me the trouble – and for stealing from me."
Sica held up a hand. “You missed one,” she said with sweet venom. “Clobbering you over the head.”
He glared at her. Larch definitely didn’t like being reminded of that. It was something she had to remember and use against him at every possible opportunity.
“How did you get here?” she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. There was an unfamiliar sensation running through her and it was a moment before Sica realised. She was *afraid*. Of him, the black haired young man with the dangerous smile and icy eyes. She was scared of an aristocrat?
Yes, she realised, she was very afraid and no wonder, either. He was like a wild cat, all sleek movements and quick flashes of danger. Beautiful and fatal.
“Simple,” he said coolly. “Next time you are out thieving, make sure you cover your tracks a little better.”
She swore. Then glared at him. “What right have you to follow me?” she snapped, swift as an arrow bolt.
“Right?” he queried. “What right have you to kill the animals that are on *my* property? But since you ask, the child known as Sica Aldernik was born on my lands. Therefore, you belong to me.” His smile was cruel and Sica felt anger coil in her like a comforting fire.
“I belong to no one but myself!” she said proudly. She had spent years protecting what freedom she had, training and fighting and always enduring whatever life threw at her.
“Really? Have you bought yourself free?” Larch’s eyes were cool arctic grey. And Sica knew he had a point.
But she turned her back on him, unwisely perhaps and dug what coin she had out of a bag.
“Well?” she asked, “how much does it cost for this poor serf to free herself?” She had enough money to cover the highest of prices she had ever heard of.
He rolled his eyes impatiently. “I have no wish, nor need for money taken from others.”
Sica stared at him in rage. “I earned this,” she hissed, really wanting to hit him. How dare he suggest…? Any money she stole came from his kind of people and she never kept any of it. It went to the people who had their lives taxed away.
“Yes,” he said with that deadly soft tone Sica was realising was Larch at his worst, “from…shall we say the *oldest* of a woman’s roles.” His smile was pure mocking evil.
Her fists clenched and she felt the coins dig into her hands painfully. “I earned this, working through the harvest, working as a healer, working in jobs you have probably never heard of. How *dare* you insult me?” She was so angry, she completely forgot just who she was yelling at. She stepped forward and tried to hit him.
He caught her wrist and she felt a strange shock that splintered through her like lightning. She froze in his grip and they both stared at each other. For an instant, Sica could have sworn she could hear his thoughts, a confused tangle. She stared up at him with wide eyes. “What did you do?” she demanded frenziedly. “What did you—”
“Shut up,” he said hoarsely. “Just shut up.”
Something in his voice got to her and Sica obeyed. He pulled her closer until their faces were barely an inch apart, his breath warm on her face, eyes confused as she felt.
His lips touched hers in a gentle kiss…and Sica felt the world blur into a spinning rainbow place she had only seen in dreams. The cave was suddenly so bright, so different. Until she realised she was seeing the world through Larch’s eyes, vampiric eyes. Looking at herself, a tall feline girl with fierce eyes and a bright, dangerous smile. Her dark hair sweeping down like a cloak of darkness, her skin tan brown as the gypsies who visited. Someone who stood up to him in a way he had never experienced.
The sensation cut off abruptly as Larch lifted his head, dazed smoke eyes looking into hers. His chest was heaving with harsh breaths and he looked completely shaken…so different to his usual scornful sophistication. Sica had never had anything like this happen to her before, never.
She tried to speak. “Wh—”. He kissed her again, arms tightening around her body so she could feel his heart thundering. She was thrown back into a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, that told her she shouldn’t, *couldn’t*…but she was. His lips were warm and caressing, somehow thrilling in a way that beat the hunt, that threw everything she had ever experienced into dimness. The spinning sense kicked in, she was locked at the centre of a spiral, bound to Larch.
It was as though she was *seeing* for the first time, something more than herself. There was a word for it, a word she couldn’t discern. It was…she struggled to find it. Soulmates.
He broke the kiss suddenly, the elegant features shocked. He had heard her, Sica realised, he knew. Larch let go of her and her legs just gave under her. She ended up on the floor, ankle twisted under her, letting out one cry of pain before she stopped herself.
He was beside her in an instant, curling his arms protectively around her. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t need to, just held her close and what Sica found strange, she didn’t object. She liked his strong, lithe body, stunning dignity – even his arrogance. That surprised her most of all.
They stayed that way for time that she wasn’t measuring anymore. She knew his mind, more intimately than she had known anyone. They were *attuned*. And she found she couldn’t hate him for what he was, or for what he’d done. But of course, she thought wryly, you can’t hate what you love.
And she loved him, of course. The thought was not alien, frightening or even surprising. It was as though she always had loved him, that nothing could have changed this. Nothing. This was meant in a way that went beyond time, beyond herself and beyond anything that might be out there.
“I love you,” she whispered to him.
His body stiffened instantly in a reaction she didn’t understand, a reaction that *hurt*. She looked at him and Larch’s face was like a mask. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, but stood up and stood at the cave entrance with his back to her.
When he spoke, it was as though the words wee coming from faraway, from a cold impersonal stranger. “I’m sorry,” he said, but there was no regret in his voice. “But you can’t love me.”
Can’t? She looked at his tensed form in disbelief. Can’t? What was she supposed to do, switch off her emotions at his command? Not likely.
He was carrying on, voice flat and emotionless. “You’re a human…you should only be a quick snack. And you’ve killed a vampire. Theo Rasmussen. I should kill you for that alone.”
Sica stood up now, leaning against the wall for support. She still felt as though she had been hit by a herd of stampeding deer. “There’s an awful lot of ‘shoulds’ in that sentence, Larch. Can I take it to mean you aren’t going to drain me dry of blood?”
He flinched at that, but Sica made the guilt of that into anger. Anger focused her on what she had to do. He turned to face her, but she couldn’t see his face. The sun from outside blinded her and she could just see his silhouette, a black imposing figure. A dark angel or a night creature. Not human, never that.
“I’m going to let you get out of here.” He seemed to smile. “If you come back, I’ll kill you. If I ever see you, I’ll kill you. Three days, that’s how long you’ve got to get out of here. Permanently.”
She blinked. That hadn’t been what she was expecting, not by a long shot. And he was so positive she’d be the one to die. Something of an assumption to make.
“Fine,” Sica said, feeling drained, not of blood, but of emotion. “Then get the hell out of my home.” No snide comments about whose *land* her home was on, she noticed.
Just a harsh expression that might have made her quake if she had cared to, and the words that did make her want to run where no one could see her cry. “You make yourself weak,” he said with that hard undertone to his words. “Love only weakens you. The world’s a dangerous place and love only messes everything up. Maybe you’ll figure that out someday.”
And the chilliness in his words like a knife through the heart that broke all those protective layers she’d developed through years of moving, of never getting too attached in one frighteningly easy action. She didn’t want to look at his proud face, because what she saw might have the power to hurt even more than that cold, that reptilian rejection.
But she raised her eyes with all the shattered courage and met his gaze with her own bleak eyes. “You don’t even know what love *is*,” she said so softly it would have taken supernatural hearing to catch the words. “I pity you, you only know how to threaten, to hurt…if you exercised that charm a little more often, if you let yourself learn to love, maybe the world wouldn’t be such a bad place for you.”
A response was something she wouldn’t listen to, no more destruction of the beliefs that were her world. She just turned away to stoke the fire. She’d leave tomorrow, say goodbye to Alys and the kids. Give her some money to keep her going. Put everything that had happened, this whole visit out of her mind. Starting *now*.
She turned around, expecting to have to yell at him, but he had gone, so silent she hadn’t heard a thing.
* * * *
But Sica should have known it wasn’t going to turn out that way.
The day seemed to reflect her mood, beautiful hot and sunny, as long as she forced her mind away from thoughts of Larch. But when she got to the cottage, her good mood rapidly evaporated into concern when she saw Alys’ sister, Lisette, petite as her sister but with long black hair, washing cloth in the stream that ran by the house.
Sica lifted a hand in greeting, but saw the relief on Lisette’s face when she saw her. The woman beckoned her over. Her clear eyes were red, swollen and filmed with tears and it was a moment before what she was saying sank in. “It’s the children, Sica. Mari and Rafik, they’re…” Lisette gave up then and burst into tears.
Sica didn’t need Lisette to finish telling her. Her hopeless face said it all. They were dead. She knew how much Lisette had loved the kids, especially after her own girl had been taken by Lord Redfern.
Lisette looked up then, face holding strange resemblance to Alys. “Look after her, Sica. I have to go home now and cook, but I’ll be back before nightfall.” Face crumpled in grief, the tiny woman walked away. The despair in her figure worried Sica and she turned to the house.
Taking a deep breath, she walked in. Alys was by the fire, like a crumpled rag doll and instinctively Sica ran over and hugged her. “Oh Alys, I’m so sorry,” was the first thing she said.
Something was wrong, she could feel it in a way that went beyond the ordinary senses.
Her fears were confirmed when Alys looked up at her. The beauty was still there, but her face was icy, her eyes dead. And her words shocked Sica. “You should have been here!”
“What?” she whispered, staring into Alys’ accusing face.
“I’ve lost them,” the woman said dully, returning to her apathetic state. “First Rob, now my babies.” So blank, so devoid of any grief. As though her heart had been taken and her soul with it.
Sica cleared her throat to try to stop the lump that was growing there. “How,” she hesitated, but she *had* to know. “How did it happen, Alys?”
The woman’s face went blank, her voice mechanical as if she were reciting by rote. “I sent them to fish upstream, near the lake. I wanted to make fish stew, that why I needed the fish you know and I was busy…” Despite the flat voice, the woman was rambling. This had cut into her and Sica could see that there was nothing much holding Alys Ysandron together. Whatever strength had allowed her to keep going was rapidly unravelling.
“And then, and then,” he eyes that had once been like midsummer skies and were now like ice floes unfocused. “I thought I heard one of them – Mari maybe – call, so I went out to the river and as I got nearer all I could hear were these…snuffling…sounds.” Her voice was perfectly level but Sica felt dread growing. Her stomach quivered, she could sense this was going to be *bad*.
“Then,” said Alys, her voice catching, “I got nearer and I could hear twigs snapping, lots of them ahead of me. And I walked into the clearing…” she swallowed convulsively, a single tear trailing from her lost eyes. “Wolves. A pack, four or five. And on the ground, I could see them, what was left. And I realised I hadn’t heard any twigs, god, it was their *bones*. And there was red everywhere, like a herd had been gutted. And you know what Sica?”
Sica took shaky breaths. Alys voice was high, curious with what she could have sworn was a laugh in it. “What?” she said huskily.
“They left her head! And I could see her, just lying there, her face all twisted and she looked so scared…my baby, she couldn’t see but she *knew*.”
Alys started to scream, high tearing shrieks that made Sica’s heart flip over. But she knew who it was. She knew who had killed those kids, who had never done anything to anyone in their lives.
“Alys,” Sica snapped out, hating herself for it. The woman looked up at her firm tone and saw Sica features that she had carefully set in anger. It stopped her friend short.
“What?” she whispered, hands plucking at a rug in nervous motion.
“I’m going to go and avenge your children. Stay here and…” Sica hesitated. What could she say? Don’t worry seemed so trite. She just smiled sadly at Alys and left before she broke down herself.
Two innocent kids, caught by a monster like that. The worst thing was knowing how scared they would have been, how it would have felt for them, confronted by something like…that. The savageness of the killing. Rocyon hadn’t spared any mercy at all, just obeyed his instincts and then some. A killer without cause, a demon in his own right.
On her way, her grief faded until all that was left was a kind of despairing love and anger. She would kill him. Damn him, doing that to those kids. Rocyon was one dead wolf.
And Larch was as dead as the werewolf for allowing this to happen.
* * * *
