As what was the norm, I woke with an absentee lover. I sighed in disappointment, even knowing that odds were he would be gone. Feeling around the futon, I wasn’t surprised that there didn’t seem to be any evidence of our ‘encounter.’ I nearly thought I had dreamt it until I felt how sore my body was.

When I sat up and looked around, I fought the urge to cringe and lost. It was the first time that I was pissed that Wufei didn’t take me with him. It was in the light of the Tinker Bell nightlight (which seemed to have magically appeared) that I was able to see that Howard, Hilde and Mariemaia were still asleep. That was all well and good. What I didn’t appreciate though, was the shit-eating grin on Quinze’s face nor Trollé’s disgusted one. Auda and Abdul seemed to be having loads of fun recreating our fornication last night (even I have to admit that the way Abdul was throwing Auda’s legs around was funny), while Catherine glanced back and forth between her book, Fifty Shades of Gray, and me, as if getting ideas… which I might accidentally-on-purpose overhear if she reads certain scenes aloud. Trowa seemed depressed, perhaps from missing his own lover, while Heero seemed to find the arch of his foot the most interesting thing in the world. Sighing, I could only think of one thing to say… “I fuckin’ hate all of you.”

“So you want pancakes for breakfast,” Heero said, now scratching the arch of his foot with a look of great concentration on his face. The others remained unfazed.

With nothing more, I plopped back down on my futon and threw my blanket over my head to block everything out. I’ll try waking up again in a few hours.

My pancakes better be ready when I do, too.

***

I felt the house shake a bit as the thunder clapped. When its rumbling finally faded away, the pattering of rain was heard pinging off of the roof. I sat on my futon with my sleeping bag draped around my shoulders for warmth, hearing the storm rage outside as a sort of background noise. The room was dark, but the nightlight was enough for me to see by.

I had a very rare moment to myself. Knowing the werewolves as I did, I figured that they were outside, howling at the storm. Using this lapse of attention for my benefit, I had Hilde bring me the bookbag that I kept the Creature Catalog and the book made of skin that I… ‘borrowed’ from G’s library in. She and my uncle left afterwards to go home for showers, food and rest.

I held the Book of Skin in my left hand as the fingertips of my right hand rested against the back cover. I was almost in a meditative state with my eyes at half-mast, my breathing and pulse slow, my posture as unmoving as any vampire’s. Its texture still bothered the hell out of me, but sitting here in the near darkness with the book made me feel strangely… content. It almost felt as if this was how I was supposed to be, and that feeling was as much a pleasing one as a disturbing one.

Sighing, I snapped myself out of it as I threw the book on the floor and ran my fingers through my bangs in agitation. It was starting to feel like an addiction. I wanted to indulge. I wanted to walk around inside my head, Calling others to me and keeping them close. As I sat here through the storm, I felt that feeling, that pulling, become stronger and stronger. It was odd. I’ve never had the urge to Call the dead to me before; I’ve only done it when I needed to. Now, the desire to do so was tittering about me to the point of distraction. “Christ,” I whispered as I dropped my face into my hands. “What the hell is happening to me?”

No one answered… thank the Lord.

Blowing out a breath and shaking my head and shoulders out, I drew the Creature Catalog to me and started flipping through the pages. Even though there wasn’t any index to speak of regarding the book, I started to notice a hint of organization. Creatures that tended to regenerate themselves (or just took forever to die) like vampires, werewolves, shape-shifters, elves, fairies, wizards and witches, were towards the front of the book. Because they were so old, many things were known about them and their pages didn’t need to be updated. The creatures that were towards the end of the book were the newer ones that recently came into their existence, or the ones that the Hunters knew were out there but had little info on. I was a couple hundred pages from the back, but even the ones after me tended to have more information on their pages than I did. Ha ha.

Other creatures weren’t mentioned at all. The Hai-Uri for one. I didn’t know if it was because it might be rare or because it was never seen by the Hunters… which would make it rare, I guess. The gnomes didn’t seem to be listed, which I found strange because they have been around since the Earth’s crust cooled. I didn’t see anything resembling trolls either. If trolls existed then dwarves must too, but nope, nowhere to be found. Maybe I’ll find these creatures as I get further along in the Catalog, but I just found it interesting that none of these… species had at least one member that was infamous in some way. I mean, if I was a Hunter I would list Gus Gus simply because, mentally-challenged gnome though he may be, he will still put a bullet in your skull and go on his cross-eyed merry way and not think once about it, let alone twice. I’d also list Trollé. If there was ever a creature that could ooze a fatal amount of disdain, it’d be her.

Shaking my head again, I mentally swept away my line of thought and concentrated on what I was doing. I flipped through page after page for some time, the sound of thunder and rain every once in a while penetrating my senses. Occasionally, I would hear someone stop by the door. I would murmur, ‘I’m fine,’ and they would continue on with whatever they were doing. Although that annoyed me, it was better than having someone standing over my shoulder. I would take what I could get.

After a good forty five minutes of flipping through pages, I was about to call it a day when I saw his picture.

I sat up straighter, excited that I finally ran across the page of someone from the Pack! The photo was apparently taken in the late 1800s. It was old, but I knew without a doubt that it was him. It was black and white, but it had that over and under exposed tone to it that all photos did at that time. The overexposure was mostly on his hair and eyes, making them so white they were barely discernible from the paper. His hair was the same length as now but was very shaggy, and his eyes were wild as if he’d just been in a fight. Maybe he had been. He wore a slight snarl with his canine peeking out over his lip, as if warning the person before him to get that camera out of his face before he gutted them. There was very little of his torso in the picture, but from what I could see his clothing matched the time period.

I was blown away and concerned at the same time. This picture of Quatre upset me in a way I couldn’t explain. Squinting at the image, I could see that he either just arrived from somewhere or was about to leave. There were many large vessels in the distance, all looking like sister boats of the Titanic. People were apparently milling about or searching for family members, so I could only guess that this shot was taken as Quatre was passing by. Lifting the Catalog closer to me, I fixated on his eyes. Studying them closer, I wasn’t so sure if they were wild or if they were haunted. The peeking canine seemed less ferocious and more anxious. His tousled hair could have been from fingers nervously combing through it. Lowering the book back down, Quatre became vicious. Raising it, Quatre became desperate. Back and forth I did this, unable to find that one measure that would tell me what the shape-shifter was truly feeling. Unable to take the eye strain any more, I closed both the Catalog and my eyes. This wasn’t the innocent, flirtatious mystery behind Mona Lisa’s smirk. There was something deeper and possibly horrifying behind that look. I didn’t know why his image hit me the way it did, but it left one hell of a realization that had a hollow feeling growing in my gut.

Despite all of the talks, laughs, tears, fights, and bodies we buried together, I really didn’t know my friend at all. Who was Quatre Raberba Winner?

***

There weren’t many of them, but there were enough to give us trouble.

It was a sight to see. It was as if the Playboy mansion dressed all of their Playmates in fatigues and handed them automatic weapons, RPG’s, grenades, and turned them loose. The women were silent as they stepped over and through trees, roots, and burrowing rodents. They would occasionally lay down in the mud and roll in it, coating themselves from head to toe. I didn’t understand why.

The thunder was no longer booming, but the rain came down at just the right speed and volume to be a nuisance. I thought it strange that they were all coming from the same direction instead of surrounding their target and closing it in. I watched, interested, as one woman brought a pair of binoculars up to look for something. She passed over trees, trees, several deer eating, and more trees until a house came into her line of sight. As she adjusted the binoculars, the house came into focus—

“WUFEI!” I screamed as I bolted upright. My flailing knocked the Creature Catalog onto the floor. I had fallen asleep with it on my chest. Grabbing it, I shoved it into my backpack. I grabbed the Book of Skin and did the same when the door slammed opened, Heero racing through with Trowa, Catherine, and Rashid on his heels.

“What?!” they yelled.

“Where’s Wufei?!” I slammed a palm on the floor as I yelled.

“He is not here,” Catherine barked in impatience. “Why the fuck are you screaming like that?”

“Shit!” I tried rising to my feet. “Call him back! Ugh! The Hunters!” I leaned against the wall, unable to stand completely straight. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I stood. “They’re coming! Damn near all of them.” I threw my hand out towards them, almost in an imploring manner before I had to press it back against the wall. I lost my balance and almost fell. “They’re coming to kill us!”

“Duo, stop panicking.” Trowa turned to Heero. “I do not smell anything.”

“Neither do I.”

“Damnit,” I snapped, understanding now. Sighing in resignation, I flung my hand out in the direction I ‘saw’ them from. I was more stable against the wall this time. “They’re coming from the east, and covering themselves in mud.”

“They are upwind of us, and spreading their scent around. It will be more difficult to discern their scent from the scent of our surroundings.” Trowa caught on immediately. “Catherine, collect the Maguanacs and prepare to engage.” Catherine nodded. “Heero, you are my second.” Trowa turned to me. “Duo, remain here until—”

Without another word Trowa threw himself on me. Catherine and Heero also dropped to the ground. Before I could raise hell about what was going on, the loudest noise I had ever heard in my life deafened me. It was an explosion, but I had no idea from what. I grabbed onto Trowa’s wrists and screamed in terror as the house violently rocked from side to side. The little light that was in the room died immediately. It would’ve been completely dark if it wasn’t for the light from a fire that was shining underneath the door. Really, really not promising.

The instant the house stopped moving Catherine ran through the door, shattering it to nothing but splinters. She transformed as she jumped over the banister with a howl that promised many dead Hunters, Heero right behind her. Trowa reached out and grabbed my sleeping bag, throwing it on me and wrapping me up in it as if I was a burrito. He easily held me in one arm. He was getting me out of here, but I couldn’t leave without— “My book bag!”

Not even breaking his stride he grabbed my backpack and strode out of the room. The stairs were gone so he had to jump over the banister just like Catherine did. I gasped at the unexpected move and shrieked when we landed. The sudden stop pulled on my healing wound to the point of agony, and I hadn’t had the chance to brace myself for it. While I breathed the pain down to a tolerable level, I was aware of being placed on the floor. “Get him to safety without fail,” was all Trowa instructed as he swung my backpack off of his shoulder to my mystery person before turning tail and running into the fray.

I looked into Trollé’s eyes and nodded my head, ready to move on her word. She had quite a bit of charring to the left side of her body and had one of her earrings blown off (I’m guessing with her earlobe, because that was missing too), but she held a shotgun in one green hand and seemed just as uninviting as ever. She was obviously downstairs when the explosion occurred, and if she could survive being so close to such a thing then I felt I was as safe with her as I would be with the werewolves. She held no love for me, sure, but she would defend me to ensure the safety of her vampiric lover. The least I could do to help myself was listen to her. “On your mark.”

“Now,” she said, tossing the book bag to me, grabbing the corner of my sleeping bag and dragging me out of the living room and through the wall that used to be to the right side of the front door. The door was still there, funnily enough. As we passed it, I had the inexplicable urge to press the doorbell. If I did, I was sure I wouldn’t survive someone’s wrath.

I couldn’t decide what was more of a war zone, inside of the house or out. There were fires everywhere. The smell of burned fur was all-consuming. There weren’t bodies laying around as much as there were body parts laying around, and that seemed to disturb me more than the thought of dead bodies. The Pack was running everywhere; some in human form and the rest as werewolves. There were screams; screams of pain and screams of anger. There was howling too. I could hear Heero shouting for someone to flank him with Rashid. Everything was a cacophony of noise.

Trollé dragged me down the stairs without warning, but I wasn’t mad about it. I was sure I wouldn’t have heard her anyway. I braced myself by straightening my body as best as I could and sticking my book bag underneath me, so that the tension in the sleeping bag would help me slide down the stairs instead of bang down. It worked. It took several seconds to do, and just as she was dragging me across the lawn, another howl rang out. She dropped the corner and immediately threw her body on top of mine. “Curl up!” she yelled. I curled myself up into the fetal position. Through the gap in her bent arm, I was able to see that one of the Hunters had fired a RPG straight at the house. One of the werewolves was on the roof, and it looked as if it was headed straight towards him. He turned in a way that had his profile facing me, and I gasped in recognition. “Abdul!”

Bending his knees, Abdul waited until it was nearly upon him before he punched the RPG straight up into the air. It flew upwards for a few seconds before it exploded, raining shrapnel down on the house. Trollé and I were fine, but a few others had to roll or run away to avoid being hit. Abdul had to run off the roof! “Fuckin’ hell!” I yelled to no one in particular.

“Hold on,” Trollé said, moving to grab a corner of the sleeping bag again.

This time she took off, running faster than I would have ever thought her legs capable of going. She held the shotgun in her left hand, barrel up to shoot anyone or anything that didn’t belong to the Shenlong. Not even a minute passed before she stopped next to a red, Aerostar minivan. Spoiled by the vehicles I was used to seeing the werewolves driving, I thought this was crazy nonsense. “What the fuck is this?” Suddenly, there was a shotgun in my face. “This is wonderful, wonderful! Thank you so much! I appreciate this beyond words!”

“Get in the van,” she said, and for the first time ever, I thought I heard amusement in her voice. Dismissing it for the time being, I limped my ass into the van as she closed the door behind me. Keeping myself wrapped up in the sleeping bag and holding my book bag to my chest, I buckled myself into the seat behind the driver’s as Trollé swung herself behind the steering wheel. Just then the passenger door opened, and Quinze popped his head in. “Here’s your ammo,” he said, dumping a duffel bag stuffed to the point of bursting on the seat. He seat-belted it down. Then he popped back out to open the big door to the back of the van. Flinching and covering my head as I heard another RPG go off, I missed when Quinze reached down and picked something up.

“What the fuck?!” I shrieked, with heartfelt meaning, when Quinze dumped what appeared to be a corpse in the seat next to me. I smushed myself against the window as far as I could go. No shotgun to the face was going to shut me up this time. “Quinze?! What the shit is this?!”

“A snack whose brain is officially mush,” he said, patting the dude’s cheek affectionately. “He’s alive Duo, but only just. He’ll make a good body double for you.”

I looked at the guy. Sure, he had dark hair and pale skin, but that was about it. His face was square where mine was heart-shaped. He had bushy eyebrows and a thicker build than me. His hair was long but mine was longer, and a hell of a lot less greasy. Plus he seemed a little bit taller than me, a hell of a lot hairier, and had shitty little ink tattoos around the collar of his neck. He wore black jeans with a leather vest and motorcycle boots that looked as greasy as he did where I was sporting white, lavender and pink flannel pajamas and a soft, lilac shirt. However, I will admit that we could be mistaken for one another by anyone without eyes. “Are you fuckin’ serious?” I asked, then flinched when the gunfire started.

“Yes,” he said, tone of voice completely humorless as he buckled the guy in. Satisfied, Quinze moved towards Trollé. “Be careful,” he whispered.

“Always,” she said, with warmth that I never thought her gravely voice could produce. Moving as one, they both leaned towards the other and kissed. I was surprised at the tenderness of it, and was blown away by the fact that they really did care about each other. I watched with an achy heart as they pulled back and smiled at one another. She raised her hand, and he rested his cheek in her palm in such a practiced way that I couldn’t help but realize that they’ve done that move for hundreds of years. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” he said with care, then pulled back quickly, closing the doors before disappearing before my eyes. I didn’t know if he vanished or ran so fast my eyes couldn’t track him, but I knew it was one of those vampire abilities I would never get. Damn.

“What about my family?” I asked as we peeled out of her parking spot. The dude’s body fell over on me. Using my elbow I quickly shoved him off and started kicking him as far over as I could for good measure.

“We are getting them now,” she said, not bothering to drive to the road. She drove through the front yard and over the pathway that I would use to walk to Wufei’s house. The branches of the Honey Locust tree scraped the top of the van as we drove under it, and the pet cemetery on the left glowed cheerfully gray against the fires burning Wufei’s house down. I wanted to scream as the van rocked side to side as it drove over uneven ground, the guy next to me swaying into me from its movements. ‘Only just alive’ means ‘damn near dead,’ to me, and I didn’t want his ‘damn near dead’ cooties on me.

“Trollé! It’s touching me!”

“Deal with it!” she snapped, damn near driving into my back porch before he stomped on the brakes. “Believe me, you do not want me coming back there!”

“If it means not being near this thing, then yes! Yes, I want you back here very much!”

Surprisingly, this made her erupt into laughter.

The back porch door was flung open by Mariemaia, who ran to the van and opened the passenger door and the door to the back. Following her was my uncle with two duffel bags and my sister, with two duffel bags as well. Howie immediately tossed his into the back and reached for Hilde's to take hers. She handed them over instantly before jumping into the passenger seat. Seeing Trollé, she jumped in surprise before recognizing her. She turned to me with a glare of confusion. I could only shrug at her while Howie stowed the bags and climbed into the back, shutting the door behind him.

“Go!” Mariemaia barked, then Changed over to her werewolf form. I felt my heart stop when she took off towards Wufei’s house.

“Wait, wait, wait!” I pressed my hands against the window, watching as the cub disappeared into the dark and knowing that there wasn’t shit I could do about it. Swearing under my breath, I started pounding on the window. “Marie!”

“She’ll be fine,” Trollé said, about as compassionately as she could which was surprisingly quite a bit. Her golden eyes met mine through the rear view mirror as I slumped back into my seat. “She has survived worse.”

“She’s only a child,” I tried to argue.

“And if she wants to live to reach adulthood, she will need to learn how to fight while she’s young. Better and stronger than her have fallen.”

Yeah, like Wufei’s parents, and I couldn’t imagine them being pushovers of any kind if what their son was like was any indication. Exhaling a deep breath, I mumbled, “Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, before throwing the minivan into reverse. Backing out at a speed more suited to a jet than a minivan, Trollé got us to the road and turned around in seconds. My eyes were still rolling around in my head when she stomped on the gas, the minivan taking off like a shot. The vehicle shot forward with such force the front tires lifted from the ground, really forcing us into our seats. It also forced four simultaneous farts to be squeezed out of us humans. Impressive, considering one of said humans was in a coma. I would've laughed if I didn’t think we were so lame just then.

I looked back at my lover’s house, only to find glowing light that I knew were from the fires and silhouettes of bodies moving at the foreground of the flames. “This is out of control,” I mumbled to myself, not knowing what else there was to say.

Facing the front, I saw that Trollé was flying down the road with ease. It was obvious she knew how to drive, so I wasn’t worried. Feeling the energy surrounding me now that I wasn’t focused on what was going on, I felt Howard’s anger and annoyance and Hilde’s confusion and fear. The dark interior of the van hid their faces, but their emotions were scraping their fingernails down my shields. I grimaced. I had no idea what to tell then, but whatever I did tell them… Boy oh boy, were they going to be pissed.

Shit. Where to start?

“Hey… have you met my double?”

(tbc)