First Unnamed

By: Rebecca Anne Sinead Fahey-Leigh

Chapter One

Boston is “the walking city,” I’ve been told. A city where you can walk from one end of it to another with relative ease.

More like the city of the walking dead, whose nocturnal population is only bested in the United States by New York and New Orleans. Believe me. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve lived in Boston’s suburbs all my life and had traveled to those other two cities since–

“Hsst! Come on, girl! We’re nearly there! You know that you should be there when he wakes up!”

“Quiet, furball! I’m coming! Get your fur outta a bunch. You know that he understands the meaning of showering after training!”

“Brat.”

–since I had been brought into the nocturnal population by a certain someone. Mmm . . . maybe I’d better start from the beginning.

I was born precisely on the midnight between November 21^st and 22^nd, in the middle of a rainstorm that flooded basements all over the area. People could use their canoes in certain backyards, had they wished to. Or so I had been told. All that matters is that I’ve never felt more alive than at night, and particularly alive when thunder is crashing all around me. I guess that I’m a creature of the night and of tempests by habit.

So I was born and raised in Quincy, a fair-sized city south of Boston. I went to the Della Chaiasa kindergarten, and then after that I attended the Lincoln Hancock Elementary school until the fifth grade. Nothing serious had really happened in those years, other than my getting a lung condition called asthma, and had nearly died from it when I was four. Nothing interesting at all. Oh. Does a ballet class at the age of four count . . . ? Hah, nah, didn’t think so.

Upon entering the sixth grade, I went to the Raey E. Sterling Middle School. The most I remember about that time was being in the drama club in the sixth and seventh grades, and in the eighth grade, participating in the talent show by singing two Celine Dion songs. Typical sort of thing, y’know? Especially for a kid who likes singing as a hobby.

Then I entered high school. I didn’t want to go to Quincy High, where all the other kinds were going, being another face in another crowd. So I applied to a regional agricultural school in Walpole, a town almost thirty miles away. I was one in a class of only ninety-seven by the time of graduation. I had been a singer on a CD in my Junior year and a participant in the talent show for both Junior and Senior years. Oh. And I majored in Natural Resources, for all the good that it had done me. Then again, I’ve always been a sort of outdoorsey kinda girl.

Once out of high school, I worked, planning to save up for college for a year. Then I’d end up working during college once I got there.

But that never happened.

It all started when I found a guy. You know, the typical gorgeous kinda guy with the wavy, gelled hair and perfect eyes who you thought would never give you the time of day. That seemed to all be proved wrong, when, in fact, he turned around while I was at the South Shore Plaza, waiting in line for Master Wok, and said, “So. What did you want?”

“Excuse me?”

His close-lipped smile was charming, to say the least, and he seemed to be used to the confusion I was giving him. “I meant for food. My treat.”

I smiled back, seeing that he was only being kind. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m fine. I can pay myself.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Giving him a look, I asked, “So you just here to pick some girl up?”

“Not really ‘some’ girl, but instead ‘the’ girl. And I’m not trying.”

“So you think that’s me, and you think that I’m going to A: believe you, or B: allow myself to accept that you are not trying?”

“No. I know that it’s you I’ve been looking for, and I expect you not to believe me. Allow me to explain and convince you over dinner?”

Watching his brown eyes, looking past the liquid kindness, I sighed and said back, “Fine. General’s Chicken with white rice and two chicken fingers. Large Coke.”

His grin of happiness caused me to notice his canines.

Sharp and slightly longer than normal.

I hope that they’re fake, like the ones sold at Hot Topic.

I managed to get to the “bathroom,” instead catching a friend’s eye and indicating the general area. She followed me after a moment, and I told her about what had just happened. She blinked at me. “You don’t usually let just some guy buy you something like that.”

“I know.”

“Theo is watching your food, just in case.”

“Thanks. So what do you think?”

“Dunno. But you go anywhere, we’ll follow you from a distance.”

“Gotcha. Now wait a few moments so that it doesn’t look like a meeting.” Leaving her, I walked back out to seem to “accidentally” bump into my friend Theo. He smiled as I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging out.”

“All alone?”

“Nah. I have a friend with me.”

“Cool, cool. Anything interesting?”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. This is a clear friendship.”

Very slight emphasis on “clear.” Good. We’d done stuff like this, you know, playing with words and meanings and all, since Freshman year. I smiled, and said, “I have to get back to my food. I’ll see you later, maybe?”

“Like you have a choice?”

“I always have a choice, and don’t you forget it!”

I was soon seated across a small table from the guy who had bought my dinner. He watched me for a moment, then said, “My name is Doraen. In case you were wondering. And you are Ara.”

“How do you know.”

“I’ve been watching you for a while. Suffice to say at least a year.”

I sat back, not touching the food. “Why, then?”

“Because you can help us.”

“Who’s this ‘us’?”

Doraen didn’t answer.

“I won’t help you in whatever you want until I get answers, Doraen.”

He nodded once. “Then you shall have them. All in due time, and not where we can be overheard.”

“Then tell me when I’ll get those answers.”

“Soon. Tonight. Providing, of course, that your friends will allow you to be absent from their company. This does not concern them.”

I watched his eyes. They weren’t a nondescript brown as I had first thought. They were golden-brown. The color of a wolf’s.

“What are you.”

“Something of a tool at times, yet generally an attendant.”

“For whom.”

“And what, you wish to also ask. That will be revealed, again, soon.”

I asked no more, but instead stated, “Fine. But tell me what you are. If you do not tell me, then I will not help you.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“I am lycanthrope. Caught the disease when young, so all I’ve known is this life. I serve a vampiric master who is desperate enough to hire a human who can be trained in the arts of assassination. One who can deceive the deceiver. This is where you come in. I’ve watched over five possible people. Only you have the proper qualification that sets you apart.”

“And that is?”

“Your voice.”

That night, I was brought to the vampire. I had told my father that I was sleeping over a friend’s house. Tch. Some friend. More like a bloodsucking fiend who enjoys the presence of scantily-clad women. Isn’t that what all vampires enjoyed? Lewd company of any sort?

The moment I stepped foot within the Victorian house, a shadow came from nowhere, squealing and reaching elongated, taloned fingers towards my throat. The lycanthrope, Doraen, snarled and diverted the attack to a wall. The young vampire grumbled, then hissed at him. “I’m hungry.”

“Stop the innocent act, brat. Where’s our master?”

“Sleeping.”

“He weakens.”

“Yeah, he’s not to happy that you’re taking your sweet time on the assignment, dog.”

“You just try it. I’m stronger than you are twice over at this point.”

“You wait until I get a snack!”

Doraen snorted. “There isn’t a chance of that in the world. I belong to Fanarael, and to him alone. I out-rank you. And you will not touch this girl, either.”

“Awww, but she’s cute! Not even a nibble?”

I gave the kid vampire a dull look. “‘Nibble’ on me, kid, and I’ll snap your fangs off.”

Paling even more than I could have thought possible, the brat scampered to a door, opened it, and disappeared. Doraen snickered. “That’s quite a threat you made.”

“Bad move, then?”

“Not in the least. It will be Hyeth that will awaken Fanarael, and not us. That will be in our favor.”

A dull thud reached my ears. The sound of it made me instantly think of a body being backhanded across a room, hitting the wall that brought to mind the image that he who was doing the backhanding patted his hands off, smirking in complete and clear fulfillment. It had that satisfied feel. Doraen’s smirk widened wickedly. “As I said: in our favor. Come, now, I must placate him.”

I followed the lycanthrope down, and found myself soon deeply under the house. A groggy, pale man with long, perfectly straight platinum-blond  hair turned and glared back at us, seeming to half-listen to the whining boy-vampire before him. His pale, seemingly colorless eyes alighted upon me, and with one motion, silenced Hyeth. “Who is the girl, Doraen.”

“Ara. Fitting name for who she is to become, Master.”

“‘Goddess of Destruction’? I would dare to hope so.” He walked closer, then reached out to put one elegant hand upon my cheek. His fingers were cold. With a sigh, he looked at Doraen. For a moment, he didn’t speak. With a second sigh he looked at me, but he was talking to the werewolf. “You say that this is the girl?”

“Yes, master.”

“Pity, then.”

“Master?”

“Rich blood. No. I correct myself. Supernatural blood, and thus I would assume that it is more nourishing than any blood I would have ever ingested.” He leaned his face closer to mine, sniffed, then ran his fingers through my waist-length curly black hair. Fanarael blinked, then said, “You are untouched? Virgin?”

I didn’t move. He had that kind of forced-gentleness and un-asked-for grace that martial art masters have. But I answered. “Yeah.”

“Wonderful. All the more alluring. Then I should have to ask you why you are virgin.”

“Never got the chance, hope not to get the chance until I’m married.”

“Religious belief?”

“That too. I don’t want to deal with STIs.”

“Aah. The dead have none.”

“Don’t try it, fang-face. You’ll not like what I’ll do to you.”

“I doubt that you can do much, youngling.”

“Doesn’t mean that I won’t try.”

Movement too fast for me to see pushed me up against a wall, one hand holding my wrists above my head, the other resting on my abdomen, underneath my shirt. I did a reverse-snort, seemed to gargle for a moment, then spat the loogie into his face with a decided “I’ll do it again” look. With a blink, he released me, then started laughing. It wasn’t mean laughter. It was genuine, surprised, kind laughter. “Ara is your name. Ara. Goddess you are, it seems. One with a cool head. Forgive me, Ara. It was a test to see what you would do. May I remind you that it will not work upon the opponents that you will be against. It will infuriate them only more, and that is not something that I would recommend.”

He wiped the spit from his face with the inside of his sleeve, then smiled again and indicated with a wide sweep of his arm for me to find a place. “Do make yourself comfortable.”

“Why?”

“So that you may hear me out with patience.”

I blinked at him. “You haven’t fed yet.”

“I guess that I shall have to wait.”

Nodding, I sat on an old-fashioned couch, and wasn’t surprised when the vampire moved me slightly so that he could lounge beside me, one hand resting upon my thigh, just above my knee. “I have a nemesis, my dear, one that you are to seduce into a position where you will be able to kill him.”

“How?” I replied, not looking at him as I removed his hand from my leg, placing it upon his own and patting it twice before putting a bit more space between us.

He chuckled again, but sobered. “You are to be trained by an older assassin, one like you, but too old to continue her work. She has been talking to me about a replacement. I chose, through my diurnal eyes, my wolves, you and four other females who have the traits I am looking for.”

“Your puppy said that the difference between them and me is my voice. Explain that.”

“I am willing to endure your cold shoulder and bad habits for the while, Ara, but that will not continue. You will learn the rules around here soon enough.” He smiled, patting my knee twice, getting me back for my removing his hand. He took a moment to look into my eyes, taking stock, most likely, in what he saw there. “And your voice is the key. You have what others have called an angel’s voice. You sing with purity, which, for you, is not hard. It is nature. That purity, sadly, I may never hear. It would kill me.”

I leaned back against the back of the reclining couch, my back starting to ache from sitting too straight. “Because of what you are.”

“Correct. Oh. May I give you a nickname?”

“You probably will whether I say so or not.”

His chuckle was amused. “Feisty one, aren’t you. I shall think of a suitable one. Now. As for your weaponry skills . . .”

I awoke screaming three hours later.

Fanarael was sitting at his desk, eyes wide and watching me. His cheeks had a healthy flush to them, so I assumed that he had fed in those three hours. “Aaee, mon amour! Are you all right?”

I swallowed, then calmed my breathing down. “‘Mon amour’? Try again. I’ll not answer.”

He nodded, then replied, “I beg your forgiveness, then. Will you tell me what your nightmare was about?”

“I might.”

“I could just peek into your mind . . .”

“I’m hoping that my purity will drive you away.”

“Aah, your cold nature stings me!”

I gave him a blank stare. “I don’t tell my nightmares to the real ones.”

He bowed slightly. “I am touched! But it may prove to be relevant to the future.”

After gathering my thoughts and thinking about how to word the dream, I stood. I paced for a few moments, then replied, “A veiled figure was before me. She was fighting something, but she fell, killed instantly by something I couldn’t see. The thing on the other side of her saw me, and I saw him. Eyes . . . the most chilling eyes that I have ever seen in my nightmares . . . They were so cold that they burned, too. I couldn’t see his true shape, only wispy edges.”

“Did the eyes have color?”

“No. Small black pupil in a white eye.”

Fanarael nodded, and was about to speak, but . . . his face and eyes grew distant, and he clutched at his chest, and started to fall over. I rushed to him, some part of me oddly not wanting to see him hurt, and saw how his cheeks began to pale. Hie eyes tried to focus upon me, but they couldn’t. I caught my breath, then screamed, “Doraen! Doraen, get in here!”

The oaken double doors flew open, and a strange half-wolf burst in, snarling. He calmed the moment he saw his master, and then walked over, reaching down to carefully lift the vampire. Doraen’s voice echoed through my head.

What happened?

“I don’t know! I woke up from a nightmare, he demanded kindly that I tell him, and then all of a sudden he nearly fainted on me!”

He hasn’t been feeding well lately.

“Gee, I couldn’t tell.”

The wolf-man sighed immensely, and carried Fanarael to the bed I had been previously occupying, and laid him back. He needs blood.

“What?! Woah-ho, don’t look at me, furball.”

Snorting with a laugh, he replied, My blood, human. You are to remain untouched. He has named you as his own, within this pack, and that if any other vampire touches you . . . mmph.  They shall be dealt with accordingly. After saying this, he bit his wrist, and then held the bleeding limb out to the vampire’s mouth. Instantly, Fanarael gripped Doraen’s wrist and latched his mouth to the wound. After a little more than five minutes, Doraen looked at me. He won’t let go.

I reached over for Fanarael’s face, and rested my hands on his cheeks, guiding his eyes to my own. He wouldn’t stop taking Doraen’s blood. I kissed his forehead. Fanarael drew back, sighing deeply, peacefully. He laid back, then curled upon his side, away from us. I looked at Doraen, who was backing away slowly. Finally, he left the room, closing the doors. I went to Fanarael’s other side, kneeling on the floor, and watching his face. The vampire reached out to me, and I held his hand. “Your turn to tell me something.”

“Your nightmare proved to be truth. My assassin is dead.”

“Something else is hiding in your face.”

“She could not speak. I laid heavy spells upon her so that she would never be able to speak unless in my presence. I will not do that to you, as your voice is needed.” He sighed. “But the vampire that killed her went through her mind, trying to override spells that shielded her mind from all vampires, save myself. You will have those upon you soon enough. Since he could not see her mind, finding out who she is and who she belonged to, he destroyed her.”

“And who exactly was she?”

“My assassin . . . my bed-mate . . . my most trusted friend out of the last seven assassins I have had.”

“Is that what you expect I’ll be? A bed-mate?”

“No. I need you pure for a while yet.”

“And then?”

His face was apologetic. “I’ll have to make you vampire. I do not want to lose another friend.”

“So that your secrets stay secrets, so that you have someone who helps you bear the burdens of those secrets.”

“That is correct.”

“And I’ll be your mate?”

“Only if you wish to be. To tell you truth, I’m tired of losing those whom I have shared a bed with for over ten years at a time. I’ve gotten to know them well, gotten to see their smiles as they laughed, their tears as they cried, held them through both . . . and I’m starting to wish for someone who will be with me until it is time to go.”

He didn’t reveal his feelings often, I felt. Always stoic around his pack, as it were, and never said anything to reveal the lonely man inside. For he was still man, deep under the vampiric facade, and man was never meant to live alone. He was after an eternal mate, one who would not mind his dirty work, nor mind doing his dirty work when it was required of her. I nodded, then said, “Train me.”

I came to, seeing the stone floors. Groaning, I sat up, feeling Fanarael help me. It was almost a year later. I was getting better with my training, but I still got tossed around like a doll. With a sigh, the vampire picked me up and carried me to a bed easily, then laying me back, and sitting beside me as my head continued to throb. His smile was kind. “You have gotten much better. Maybe I’ll let you train with Doraen for a little while more, until you can compete with me.”

“I’m only human,” I said hoarsely.

“And I understand that, but you have to fight inhumanly in order to win against those who are not human.”

He leaned closer, sniffing my mouth. “And you haven’t been singing as much as you are kissing someone.”

I blushed, looking away. “So?”

“I need your voice more than I need your weaponry or seduction  skills.”

“How can kissing–”

“Your mouth is not as untouched as the rest of you.”

“But . . .”

“You like this boy.”

“Yeah.”

Fanarael brushed my hair away from my face, then kissed my forehead lightly, tenderly. He rested his cheek against my own, and I whispered, “I can’t be with him, can I.”

His head shook slightly.

“Because he can never know what I am turning into.”

“What are you turning into, my dear?”

“A killer.”

His face pulled away, satiny hair cascading over bare, muscled shoulders. “No. Never a killer. An undercover assassin, yes, but never a killer.”

“It’s still the same to me. And you haven’t told me how many people you want dead.”

“No more than what you can handle.”

“Tell me, Fanarael.”

“I will, but not yet. You have to wait just a bit longer.”

“When will I know?”

His eyes silenced me, and he leaned his face closer to mine, until our lips were scant millimeters away from each other. His breath was warm. “Tomorrow.”

The next day came. I trained with Doraen for two hours straight, then went to shower off. Once as dry as I could get, I walked into Fanarael’s study, still toweling at my hair. He looked up as I entered, and smiled. “Your first assassination is tonight.”

“Great. Where?”

“Here.”

“How so?”

“I will say that I have entertainment for a certain adversary. You will either be in the hidden room or outside, whichever you prefer, and Doraen in his wolfman form will be behind the double doors, or beside you, in case our visitor decides to try to either escape or kill you. His pack will be within the house to help with keeping them contained. I will leave with their assumption that I am preparing them something to drink.”

“Something being blood, I assume?”

“Sharp as ever, loveling.”

“Not the right nickname, fang-face,” I said, smiling partially at his amused face. “So what from there?”

“I’ll actually leave the premises with a few of my protectors, and will return only when Doraen tells me that it is safe.”

“What will I sing?”

He smiled, and handed me sheet music. “Go outside under the full moon. Sing. Practice. Doraen may hear you without being in pain, as he is still mortal, still . . . good. Not evil. He will guard you. You have three hours.”

I took the music, reading it as I walked out. The boy-vampire, Hyeth, now respected me, as I had shown him that I can counter his “attacks” easily at this point, and looked up to me like an older sister. I found out that he was actually a descendant of Fanarael, from before the vampire was vampire. He fell into step beside me just as I hummed a first note. He yelped, holding his hands to his ears. I dropped the sheets, and gathered him into an embrace, feeling him tremble. “Hyeth, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you. Are you all right?”

His head nodded, and he trembled again. “I shoulda warned you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Doraen grumbled. “Even I have learned to let her know that I’m behind her at times.”

“I . . . I’d like to hear you sing sometime,” Hyeth said, sighing, finally at ease again. He had some pretty fast recovery powers, even for a blood-sucker. “And I know that it hurt me, but . . . your voice is so beautiful.”

I looked down into his open eyes, seeing his sadness there. He had been on the verge of death when his parents had looked into finding their long-lost relative . . . and then they had him changed into something that would give children night-horrors. All they wanted was their little boy to live. And when he woke up from his coma . . . he didn’t want to be a vamp. He didn’t want to live forever. All he wanted was a normal life.

But for thirty years he’s been a child.

I saw Fanarael watching me as I still rested my arms around the boy-vampire’s shoulders. His voice was soft in my mind. When this is all over, he’s going to meet with his parents.

When? I replied. I had learned how to direct my thoughts like they had. When will that be? He hurts, Fanarael. Deep-down he hurts. He doesn’t want to be immortal. You know that he never did.

Soon. Tell him that. He wants to see them. He wants to tell them what he wants. And he wants a true death.

I swallowed. And I can give that to him.

Yes.

Soon.

Soon, my kitten. Soon.

I looked up at Fanarael, watching his pale eyes. And nodded. That was the right nickname, Rael. That was the right one.

I sang.

I heard their screams.

I kept singing.

Anguish . . .

Furred hands holding my upper arms kept me still, kept me from stopping the song. I knew the end chorus anyway, and I dropped the sheets to rest my hands upon those large, furred ones. After an eternity, Fanarael walked up to us. I felt him, but I was weeping into Doraen’s shoulder, as he stayed in his larger form, making sure that I felt safe as he embraced me.

Then Fanarael’s hands rested upon my shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”

“They were killers. I weep for those that they had . . . that they had sacrificed for their own evil whims.” I looked at my . . . at the once-man before me. “Are you the same? Have you killed for the pleasure of killing?”

He looked away. “I wish that I could tell you ‘no,’ sweet kitten. But I was young once, and brash in how I managed myself. I thought that I was completely immortal. I’ve killed for the sake of killing.”

“How many, you fiend. How many.”

“Seven.”

“Only?”

“Never ‘only,’ and you know that,” Fanarael sighed. “You of all people should know that.”

“They’ve killed ten times that number. Each.” I swallowed, then saw him turn away from me. As he started to walk away, I lurched out of the lycanthrope’s arms and wrapped my own arms around the vampire’s waist. “I don’t want to know about them. I saw into those monsters’ minds, and . . . I saw how they had killed. When. Why.” I sighed into his silken shirt. “And I don’t want to make myself leave you.”

He turned slowly, so that he could rest his arms around my shoulders, pulling my head against a chest within which a heart still beat. His voice was soft. “Why is that?”

“Because I have a reason,” I whispered. “And you’re not evil. You’re not evil.”

His sigh was warm, if you can even describe a sigh as such. I knew he was smiling. “Kitten, thank you.”

“For what?”

“Believing in me.”

You’re going to let your nephew finally pass on.

I feel horrible, however. I wish that I didn’t need him.

For what? I asked silently.

Company.

But you have me.

His answer was after a pause. True. That is true. His eyes met mine, and he whispered, “I’ll send him out to you. I . . . I have to . . .”

“I know,” I replied. “Go back to where you were. I don’t want to know where, yet.”

“Thank you.”

We released each other, and soon I was looking down at the blue eyes of Hyeth. “Tell me, little brother, why you’ve managed not to let yourself get killed by hunters?”

“I need permission from my master to die,” his voice said.

“You have it now,” I whispered. “Let me sing to you.”

His face lit up, and he wrapped his arms around my chest, the highest they could reach. And I sang to him.

This heart of mine is grieving

And I cannot see the onward path

For soon you shall be leaving

Marching off to your fate . . . possibly death

His sigh came softly as he trembled slightly, his arms tightening slightly, then releasing their pressure as he remembered that I needed breath to sing.

When you turn around and receive me

As if nothing has ever happened

When you come home from over the seas

My heart alone is yours to defend

Hyeth’s knees collapsed, and I lowered him slowly to the ground, feeling tears start to well up in my eyes. They mustn’t reach my voice! I could sing around them! I will! If only to . . . to send him on his way easily.

Turn back around

See the colors anew

The sun is out, green is the ground

Let that sadness diffuse within you

Don’t look over your shoulder

And think that only shadows live there

For in your eyes, my beholder

I know that you always will care

His breathing slowed gradually, his eyes closing softly as he relaxed within my arms, half upon my lap. I held him tighter to me, watching his face.

Long have I waited to hear you

Letters back to me aren’t satisfying anymore

My love for you has kept true

Has your face just become a thing of lore?

“Thank you, Ara. Thank you . . . for singing . . .”

But no, look to your side

And there I will always stay

Within you, your feeling should never hide

And when you show your love, never delay

“Thank you for asking him to let me go . . .”

And then he was gone.

Turn back around

See the colors anew

The sun is out, green is the ground

Let that sadness diffuse within you

Don’t look over your shoulder

And think that only shadows live there

For in your eyes, my beholder

I know that you always will care

I let the last note fade into the darkness of the sky, looking up at the full moon, hearing the lonely and eerie cry of a wolf who had just lost a close pack-member. More howls joined it, not all of them canine, and soon I was surrounded by a pack of lycanthropes, not all of them wolves. Some cats, mainly the big cats, were prowling closer, watching me.

It was one of them that roared in my mind, You killed him! I’ll hand your heart and head to Fanarael for this!

He pounced, but was batted away carelessly by Doraen. Enough! Fanarael . . . our master decreed that it was time. The dark muzzle lowered, and Doraen fell to all fours, walking back to stand over me, letting the side of his face brush against mine. And I . . . I oversaw it. Ara is our new assassin; your leader.

“I call her ‘kitten,’ and she will command you well,” a heartbroken voice whispered weakly. I looked to see Fanarael limping closer. A wolf-woman held her paw out for him to take, helping him closer. He wrapped his arms around myself and the body of his nephew. “I had to hear your voice. I had to.”

“You . . . you aren’t going to . . . to leave us, are you?” I whispered fearfully.

He smiled, shaking his head. “No. But I need to sleep for a few days. Never fear, my love, my kitten. You will . . . be guarded. Take Hyeth . . . no, his name was Jordan when he was human. Take Jordan back to his family. Doraen will show you . . . the way.”

I caught him, too, as he fell against me, and cradled his head against mine for a moment. Then, feeling movement, I looked up at the female lycanthrope who had helped him closer. “Who are you?”

Jaqie. I pledge to you, milady. She bowed her head below mine. If Doraen loves you as a pack-sister, then I will do so as well. Willingly. She sent a dark glare to the feline that would have attacked me.

He snorted. Let it be known that I will not. Until she proves herself.

Hasn’t she already?! She killed three vampires and their . . . personal accomplices. And on top of that, she was the one who Fanarael had allowed the honor of letting Hyeth finally pass on. You know that he was tormented by being what he was. She sighed, and then turned completely wolf in one strange moment, seeming to shed skin and body mass with scratching and a small amount of writhing. Then, with a small sigh, she curled around my back. I will accompany them to Master Hyeth’s home.

And we felines will take care of Master Fanarael, a female cheetah-like lycanthrope said softly, pausing before me to gently push her forehead against mine, rubbing slightly as a real cat would. I released my hold upon the vampire, feeling her pick him up and off of my side, seeing the other felines coming in closer to me. Each either reached out a paw-hand or got close enough to rub foreheads with me.

Then it was the last one, the one who said he would take his time to know me. His green eyes watched mine for a moment. At length, he reached his paw out. I rested my palm upon his and said, “I hope that I will meet your standards soon. Fanarael needs harmony among all of us, and I include myself in there.”

He nodded once, then left me alone with the wolves. I reached up to rub at Doraen’s chin. “Let’s get this boy home. I’ll get to know you lot on the way. Fair?”

They nodded solemnly, and started to lead the way through woodlands. We came out upon a road, and I saw a car’s headlights in the distance. Two of the largest wolf-men stood upon their hind legs, staring at the driver as he slowed and stared back in clear astonishment. I had already been hidden in the bushes beside the road, but I saw how they waited until the smallest wolf was across the road before getting out of the way, walking into the darkness. The car passed. We moved on.

I knocked upon the door of the house. After a moment, a middle-aged woman opened it. And saw who I held in my arms. She slammed the door, screeching, running through the house. An angry grumble roared at her to silence and still herself, and an old man opened the door again, seeing the little boy first, then me. His blue eyes watered slightly as he strained them to look closely at my face, and he motioned for me to enter, looking behind me and smiling. “Doraen, your new pack-mate is pretty.”

The wolf entered behind me, smiling in the lupine way by dropping his jaw and panting lightly, watching the man. She’s my commander, Don Reguies. Master had me find her.

“Here, put my son on the couch, Miss,” Don Reguies said kindly. “And tell me who and what you are.”

“Ara,” I replied, doing as he said to, smiling at the peaceful face of the boy. “And I am his new assassin, still unfledged in a sense.” My gaze turned itself to see the woman staring at me fearfully. I sighed, looking to Don Reguies. “My first kill was tonight. I helped him be rid of three monsters who would have killed you for even blinking in their presence.”

“Uncle is keeping his promise, then.”

“Sí, señor,” I replied. “Even though I know nothing of what he is planning, he has told me his promise.”

The Spanish man smiled at the use of his language. “Thank you for letting me know.” He looked at Hyeth . . . Jordan. “And why has he not awoken yet? It is time for him to be awake.”

“No, señor,” I whispered. “Jordan wanted to hear my voice. You must have known that he never wanted to become . . . what he had become.”

“Yes, I knew,” the man replied, his tone lamenting. “I knew that it was my son’s time, but his mama wanted him to be with her. He was her last one, señorita. And she wanted her baby to live. I just do not see how your voice comes into it.”

I looked at Doraen, who went to the door, silently ordering the weaker of his pack away for a safe distance, then nosed the door shut. His glace to me was my cue. I faced both of the adults, and sang the chorus of the song that Jordan had ended his life with. “Something that’s in my voice cleansed all his sins, his stains, everything. He’s with his mother for eternity for real, señor.”

The woman came closer, whispering, “You never told me, Dad. Why didn’t you tell me? You said he died.”

“We will discuss this later,” the man replied. “When we are not taking up her precious time.” His eyes turned upon me, unashamed of his tears. “You have done my family a great service. Uncle already knows this. He cannot hear your voice. And this I now understand. You, little miss, have a great task ahead of you. A great decision to make.” He swallowed. “And only you will know of if it is the right choice after all.”

I nodded, then turned once more to reach over and brush the sandy blonde hair away from the boy’s face. I leaned over him and kissed his forehead once. “The wolves will keep guard over the home, señor.” My eyes found his again. “As always, you are under your Uncle’s protection. Keep and Hold will be with you. They said that you know who they are.”

“Yes, I do know them,” he replied. “Please, invite them in when you leave.”

“Am I welcome here again?”

His smile was kind, dazzling, and as he embraced me, he whispered, “Always. I like you, little Ara. You are brave, you do not mind what your companions look like, only who they are inside. Not many humans are able to do so.” He let me go, then whispered, “Go. Back to Uncle’s side. He needs you.”

I nodded my head once at him, then left with Doraen. He formed the guard, and I looked to the two largest lycanthropes, the ones who had stopped the car by watching the driver. “The Señor requests you two inside.”

The shifted to become pure wolves, still tall and large. Keep, the slightly-larger of the two tan-ish wolves, came almost above my waist, and could lick my chin without stretching too far. Which he did, laughing in the wolf-way, then trotting up to the door. I looked at Doraen. “So what now?”

He smiled, and led the way home.