Waiting for the Night

[Mystic13]

Sometimes sunsets could cause divine inspiration, and though Jarod Nightingale had long since lost his ability to find magic in the world, his daughter had not. Pausing on the top of a hillside, Ilana stood amidst newly sprouted grass, bare toes dug amongst the damp earth as she craned her neck and watched the evanescent beams of coral and crimson which poured out from behind a large mass of clouds. Any wandering passerby might have mistaken her for a statue, but for the occasional flicker of raven locks in the light breeze.

There was a certain inevitability about this sunset. About the cool breeze, the damp earth and the soft grass. Each element held meaning, and although Ilana was too young to really understand what was going on inside of her ever-changing body, this did not lessen the certainty that lay in her veins like a tiger waiting to pounce upon its prey. Tonight said the blood. Tonight said the muscles and the skin. Soon.

Soon her father would be home. He would discover that she had left again without permission and come to fetch her. And on any other night she would still be on this hillside when he came, watching the sun set into the embrace of unfolding darkness. But tonight her blood sang, and the air whispered newfound secrets to her senses. Behind you blows a storm. Turning slowly, Ilana gazed with ghostly pale eyes upon the face of a stranger.

The woman smiled and knelt down. She had long blond hair tied back into a thick braid and bright hazel eyes that danced with a kind of invisible fire. There was madness in this fire. Madness and pain, but the woman smiled and held out her hand. "Hello, Ilana. I've been looking for you a long time."

"I know you have." Ilana stood perfectly still, allowing the wind to push a few strands of hair across her face. It gave her a wild look.

"You know, then, that you must come with me?"

"Must?" Ilana shook her head slowly. "I don't belong to you, or anyone else."

Slowly, the woman closed her outstretched hand and let it fall back to her side. As she stood once more, three more of her kind ascended the hilltop behind her, each with their own particular brand of madness written across their eyes. "I'm sorry, little one, but I'm afraid you have something we want."

At last fear began to trace its way down Ilana's delicate spine, and she looked from one face to another, taking an involuntary step backwards. "There is nothing I can give to you."

The woman with hazel eyes smiled again, her teeth gleaming in the last blood-red light of the setting sun. "Oh my dear, but you are very wrong on that account."

"Then you must catch me, children of nightmares." Ilana couldn't tell now if this voice was hers or if it came from something else inside of her, for it came bubbling forth of its own volition. "I will not come willingly." And oh, how her blood boiled. It shot through her body and screamed against the inside of her ears until she too began to scream. And then it was not a scream, but something much deeper and more primal, and as the very first shaft of moonlight touched her skin, the little girl was not a girl any longer.

Father... I need you

[Mystic13]

She was on the ground now, gasping great lungfuls of air as the muscles and bones in her body stretched and rippled. It was as if she were a piece of clay being molded into a different shape, only clay did not feel pain. She did. Dimly Ilana recalled advice Rashona had given her in regards to this very moment: that it only ever hurt the first time, so she could take heart in that at least. If she survived. But soon it became hard even to remember her own name amidst the chaos of shifting flesh and fur, and she dug quickly growing claws into the earth beneath her and shut her eyes tightly, as if to ward off some kind of vertigo.

Silence. Impenetrable and all-encompassing, as if sound itself had been sucked from the world. Then the whispers began...slowly at first, but with a sudden rush the ghostly murmurs built to a crescendo of slithering, cacophonous echoes, all of which suddenly coalesced into a single terrifying statement.

We see you, Dreamwalker.

Ilana's eyes shot open, and the world as she knew it had disappeared. It was as if looking at life through a mirror. Everything was as it had been. The grass, the hill, the sky... but it was like looking through these things rather than at them. Color had been drained from the universe, to be replaced by a strange, ghostly, shimmering greyness. As she blinked, Ilana realized that if she looked hard enough, she could see the essence of each object. The spirits that existed behind the physical. With great trepidation she turned her gaze towards the ever-increasing number of creatures gathered around her in a half-circle, and saw behind the mask of humanity each of them wore like loose-fitting clothing. Beasts who were once like her kind, but who now knew only of madness and dark places. Their souls twisted like trapped flames, and each in turn took the shape of huge, cackling predators. It was at this moment that Ilana realized they meant to make her one of them, and with a tremendous push of newfound muscles, she leaped down the hill towards the forest.

[Mystic13]

Father... I need you.

So soft a note inside his mind, and yet the urgency was unmistakable. Jarod had been making his way down the dirt road away from Myrkentown when suddenly he paused, turned on his heel, and bolted towards the forest.

He could smell them on the air now, a change in wind direction bringing with it the scent of rotting hyena and cold, dank earth. Black Spiral Dancers. With this realization came a sickening, desperate fear. In all this world, only one person remained that he loved beyond understanding, and this person now was within a hairsbreadth of the outstretched claws of creatures which could destroy her utterly. As he ran, Jarod's shape shifted to leave behind the frail clumsiness of humanity... to become a creature that was neither human or feline, but something of both. Not the warped monster of myth, but a sleek and beautiful predator. Now his feet flew across the ground, and as he crested the top of the hill Ilana had stood on moments earlier, he caught sight of his daughter in her new form. Jarod sucked the air in past his sharp teeth, violet eyes widening. Somehow, in spite of his knowledge of her impending change, he'd never quite believed it would happen. But it had happened. She was bastet now, like him, only... her fur was brilliantly white. Completely devoid of spots or silver shading. It spoke of things he did not want to believe or understand, and at any rate he did not have the time to contemplate such an anomaly, for he was readying his father's blade and tightening his muscles in preparation to leap into the midst of the largest pack of black spirals he'd ever seen in his life.

Snow Leopards are said to be the ghosts of the cat world. Others might be more powerful, more ferocious... but none could top the Sarkan when it came to silence and surprise. They are wintery assassins, these creatures, and it was such a ghost now that flew through the air and descended with perfect silence upon the backs of the monsters below. They had all assumed their true forms by now: hulking deformed werewolves, and though the creature upon which Jarod landed was larger and stronger than he was, the force of movement gathered by such a fall was enough to send the klaive in his hand plunging through the monster's thick skull and errupting through the underside of its jaws with a thick spray of blood as the two of them spun across the ground. (Such a a swift and adept kill for one so hesitant towards violence, but then the threat of harm to one's child will do much to inspire even the most heartfelt pacifists into action.)

The body of the dead black spiral dancer careened into the side of another, knocking it off-balance, and Jarod had just enough time to pull his weapon free and slash the second creature's throat with a swift, downward arc. Two down, about thirty to go. It was a lost cause, and he knew it, but looking up towards where his daughter now leapt into the branches of a tall tree, he knew too that there was nothing else to be done. "Ilana!" he shouted urgently. "Call Nima!" He and the old woman had their differences, to be sure, but his daughter would be safe with her, and right now that was what mattered.

He'd had just enough time to do all this before the spirals got their wits about them and turned to face their new enemy. The largest among them stepped forward, green eyes glittering like emeralds against a backdrop of sleek black fur. He grinned then, row upon row of jagged fangs gleaming the false smile of a jackal. "Sneaky kitty."

It was a moment where everything held still, and in that moment you could almost hear the earth take a great, anticipatory breath. Then, with a thundering snarl, the entire pack of black spirals drove towards where Jarod crouched upon the back of their slain brother.

[Mystic13]

The world was a wash of chaos, and Ilana tried to shut her eyes and ears against it, but this only served to make the voices more insistent. It was as if, suddenly, every spirit in the Umbra were trying to speak to her at once, and the noise was so loud she could not distinguish a word of what they said. Digging her claws into the dry bark of the tree, she clung there tightly, muscles shivering beneath the brilliant white pelt of fur. Leave me alone! she screamed at them. I can't understand you!

Listen ... they said. Dreamwalker. Listen. Don't listen to us...listen.

Ilana shook her head violently, opening her mouth to let out a snarl of confusion.

Listen. Listenlistenlistenlisten...

And then, suddenly... "Ilana! Call Nima!"

Why would she do such a thing? She hated Nima. But...that was...

"Daddy!" She screamed as her eyes flew open. He was there, crouched below her on the ground, surrounded by...those monsters. She saw them all now, plain as she always had before, and the voices were suddenly silent. This was not a nightmare, it was real, and her father was about to be hurt very badly.

Nima...Rashona... wherever you are, we need you now.

[Mystic13]

Jarod had just enough time to be grateful that his distraction had turned the spirals away from his daughter (even if only for a moment) before the rush of primal killing-machines gathered and crashed down upon him like a tidal wave. Only a moment to take stock of his life, look madness in the face and wonder... is this how I'm going to die? Perhaps it was not so bad a manner in which to exit the world. Turn the rules about and let the whore have a hero's death.

If they caught him they'd tear him to pieces. But first... they had to catch him.

Letting instinct take over where logic might fail, Jarod's body became a silver blur of movement amidst the pitch-black bodies surrounding him. His father's klaive had never moved so swiftly or precisely in his grasp, and for the first time Jarod understood its name: Shui. Water. For it almost seemed that the blade would become fluid when it struck, reaching beyond its wielder's imperfections to hit home where at first he'd thought it might not. Perhaps it was merely his imagination, or perhaps the ancient weapon had some magic left in it yet. Regardless, he caused some memorable damage in those few long moments, when he danced gracefully between the jaws of life and death, matting his fur with dark, sticky blood until he more closely resembled one of the monsters he fought against.

But overwhelming odds are overwhelming, even for the most heartfelt warrior. And this fighting...it was not what the books would have one believe. It was not beautiful. It was not poetry. It was primal and ugly and Jarod felt no satisfaction in the sickening separation of flesh from bones except that it kept his daughter safe for another moment longer. These creatures... they were not monsters. They were merely people who'd been driven mad by pain. How easily could the same fate befall him? Anyone? Of course, those thoughts weren't going to keep the black spiral dancers from tearing him to pieces, so he bravely kept up his fight, but he grew tired, and there were so...so many of them. He had to make a mistake eventually. And he did.

He wasn't watching his left arm closely enough, and a pair of jaws snapped down onto it, embedding six-inch canines into his bicep to grind harshly against the bones beneath it. The beast who'd caught him snarled with furious satsifaction, then with a tight whip of it's head, lifted Jarod from the ground and tossed him with a reverberating thud against a nearby tree. Recovering quickly, Jarod leapt up and sunk his knife into the side of the creature's neck, raising his feet to slice down its exposed belly with his hind claws. It did the trick, and the black spiral released his arm in order to fling him away.

Dizzy, it took Jarod a moment too long to regain his footing, and the swipe of another beast's claws dug deep into his side before he could roll away and escape its intended pounce. Where one was escaped, though, another took its place, and as Jarod leapt back up off the ground, he was hit squarely by the force of one of the faster spirals... the one with glowing hazel eyes that his daughter had found so disconcerting. She knocked him back to the ground, raking his back and legs with her front and hind claws as she held him beneath the larger bulk of her weight.

"You do not know what pain is, cat. But you will soon enough."

[Mystic13]

"Not if I have anything to say about it, you crazy bitch."

The voice came from above...in the trees, and when Jarod heard it he couldn't help but laugh. It was relief, not for himself, but for his daughter. The black spirals looked up almost in unison, but they wouldn't find the source of the insult where they expected it. Rashona had always been good at throwing her voice.

It was a shame, really, because they missed the expression in the other bastet's piercing blue eyes as she leapt through the air behind them, twin blades wielded like the fangs of a poisonous snake. They didn't even realize her attack until she hit the back of the creature perched atop Jarod's body and both of those deadly-looking blades burst through the black spiral's chest. She blinked in surprise, looking down at the tips of the weapons protruding from her rib-cage as if uncomprehending, then a little gurgle errupted from her throat and she toppled over.

At this same moment, Nima appeared like a phantom from the shadows in the tree where Ilana crouched. Out of the corner of his vision Jarod could see something of a struggle between the two, and he cursed under his breath. You could hardly blame Ilana for not trusting the elder. Jarod didn't trust her either. But now was not the time for in-fighting. Now was the time to get Ilana as far away from here as humanly possible, and only one of them was in a position to do this.

Forcing himself to his feet, though his body ached and blood ran with alarming quantity from his wounds, he had just enough time to shoot Rashona a grateful look before the black spirals realized what had just happened and fell upon the two of them with renewed frenzy.

Rashona was a good fighter, and far more experienced than he was, so Jarod was glad for the help, but the trouble with black spirals was that they did not die easily. While nearly every one of them sported at least one nasty-looking wound, between the two of them they had so far only managed to kill five. And now the worst imaginable thing had happened. Some of the spirals had glanced up into the trees to see what the commotion was about, and one of them shouted with a quick, gutteral bark.

"Someone's with the girl!"

Now they all turned, and the nearest ones to the tree raced forward and began to climb towards the top, where Ilana and Nima were in the midst of some private battle.

"Ilana! Go with her, please!" Jarod called up to her frantically.

From the tree, Ilana looked down into the eyes of her father. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, but as she saw the panic in his gaze, she merely nodded. Then Nima put her arms around Ilana's torso, tore her from her perch, and the two of them slipped out of existence.

Snarling ferociously, the green-eyed pack leader jumped down from the tree where their intended prey had been only moments before. "You three, follow me!" He indicated a group near him, and as bid they, in turn, stepped sideways and disappeared with their leader. In a moment they were back though, and they were furious. "Where are they?" The green-eyed one snarled as he stalked towards Jarod and Rashona. "They aren't there... where did your elder take her?"

Neither of them said anything. They merely gazed back at their attacker and waited. They didn't have to wait long, for with a snarl he rushed towards them and lashed out at Jarod, catching him on his wounded side and knocking him roughly to the gound. When his right hand hit a tree root, it knocked the blade loose from his grip and sent it skipping off through the leaves.

Rashona growled low in her chest and prepared to help her tribe-mate, but the rest of the black spirals had other ideas for her. As she jumped towards the pack-leader, the others moved in to intercept her attack and drive her back towards the forest. Overwhelmed, she tried to fight her way past them, but in the end her preoccupation with getting to her destination left her a little more vulnerable than she otherwise would have been. When one caught her by the leg, she was flipped onto the ground and immediately pounced upon. It took four of them to hold her down, and finally they grew so tired of her flailing claws that one of them took hold of a huge stone and cracked it against the back of her head with a resounding echo. It did the trick nicely, and she slumped against the ground unconscious.

Jarod heard this, and tried to scrabble to his feet, but the green-eyed leader shoved him back down.

"You think you're the only one with a few surprises up his sleeve, Jarod Nightingale?" The black spiral growled low and menacingly as he pushed the end of his muzzle close to Jarod's face. His breath smelled of rotting meat, and it made Jarod turn his head and gag against the damp earth. The spiral laughed at this, digging the claws of his foot into Jarod's chest as he pressed him against the ground. "I have all night to find ways to make you and your friend talk, but first, lets get rid of those claws of yours, shall we?"

It shouldn't have worked. But Jarod was tired beyond understanding, and barely had enough time even to register what was happening before his body shifted of its own accord, returning to a form more familiar... and far more vulnerable.

[Mystic13]

Somewhere in the depths of the forest, a predator was slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. Aware in the sense that she felt the presence of something which, in a way she could not determine, intrigued her. Giving a great yawn that revealed rows of glittering fangs, the pitch-black lupine slowly crawled down from her sleeping perch in a large oak tree. With each movement her muscles rippled, shifting and flowing as if her body could not determine what form it meant to take, or perhaps did not understand a difference. Her claws sunk into mossy bark, sending bits of it showering to the ground as she descended.

Somewhere in the forest, a beast scented the air, ancient senses deciphering stories from the intricacies brought to her by the wind. Slowly her mind put the story together, and a little of the predator fell back... and a little of the woman she'd been came forward. Not much, but enough to turn the tide from indifference to action.

I remember you, Jarod Nightingale. Even a monster remembers her debts.

..............................

Jarod felt the crushing weight on his chest ease, and he looked up to see the green-eyed black spiral gazing a few feet past him. The pack-leader slowly stepped away, moving to pick up the weapon he saw shimmering like liquid moonlight in the leaves. He held the klaive in his hand, inspecting it for a few moments, then turned with a flash of his strangely glowing gaze.

"This is too nice a weapon for a whore. I'd ask where you got it but I'm sure you wouldn't tell me."

Jarod tried to stand up, but the process was a laborious one now that the rage of battle had dissipated and the pain from his shredded muscles was begining to really set in. Finally he got to his knees, and he had to pause for a moment, hands resting on his thighs as he caught his breath.

Before he had time to contemplate what was happening, he felt himself lifted into the air and slammed forcefully against a tree. The pack-leader grinned at him, the same jackal-smile he'd offered when the two of them had first made eye-contact, then slammed Jarod's own weapon deep into the right side of his chest, just below the shoulder. It sunk all the way through to the other side and stuck into the tree, effectively nailing him in place, and Jarod opened his mouth to let out an involuntary scream, quickly finding his footing against the tree roots so as not to put weight on the wound.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" The alpha narrowed his eyes to long slits, and the other black spirals cackled excitedly and edged forward, momentarily forgetting their other victim.

Jarod's only response was a sudden cough that sent a spray of blood onto his already bleeding chest.

"Don't suppose you're ready to tell me where your daughter is?" The spiral watched him for a moment, but as he recieved no answer, he continued. "I suspected as much." Taking a step backwards, he gazed at Jarod for a moment, thoughtfully, then shifted back to his own human form. It was unsettling, the way these creatures could so closely mimic normal people. Only those eyes remained to suggest something out of the ordinary. "There." He smiled, brushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. "We're even, see? Now we can relate like rational beings."

It was a rediculous thing for a black spiral to say, but Jarod was too busy concentrating on keeping himself conscious to make any snide remarks.

The green-eyed man stepped forward, residing in uncomfortable proximity to Jarod's shivering body. With his hands he tore open the last remaining tatters of what used to be Jarod's black silk shirt. "It's a shame to damage something so perfect-looking, but I suppose that's unavoidable."

Bending down, the man laced his tongue out to capture some of the blood on Jarod's chest, tracing back up the path that blood had taken: past his collar-bones, up the side of his neck and over to the corner of his mouth. At the same moment, the black spiral reached up and put his hand on the hilt of the huge knife embedded into Jarod's chest and twisted it.

Jarod sucked in his breath through clenched teeth, but managed not to reward his torturer with another cry of pain. His insides where a tightened mass of revulsion, but there was something about this situation which was frighteningly familiar for him, so rather than recoiling from the black spiral's morbid affections (which would have only been another kind of reward), he simply stood perfectly still and allowed his natural defenses to take over. Ice washed through his veins and glazed over his eyes, numbing the pain and freezing his chaotic emotions into barely a whisper in his subconscious. It was easier this way... to just go somewhere else for awhile.

[Mystic13]

At the edge of the trees, something as unseen and silent as shadow peered out at the scene unfolding before her.

Black hyenas in my den. This you will regret, wyrm-kin.

Each footstep, each movement flowed through the air like a ghost moving towards its prey. They would not see her. They would not smell her. Not until she wanted them to.

.....................................

Slowly, Rashona's eyes fluttered open, the blackened world spinning around her in an alarming fashion. She had to blink a couple of times to make her vision settle, and at first it was difficult for her to remember where she was and why she was lying on the cold ground with an immense headache, but these things came back to her quickly. Leaping to her feet quickly (though not so quickly as she would have liked, as her sense of balance was still not what it ought to be), she peered over the heads of the black spirals as they crowded towards something in the distance. When the realization hit as to what they were watching, Rashona felt as though a stone were suddenly dropped into her stomach.

Mind racing with possible rescue strategies (none of which were very good), the bastet began to circle around her enemies, searching for a way she might be able to get closer to Jarod without being seen.

Only, someone... or something... beat her to it.

...................................

Jarod was only barely conscious when the body of his attacker was suddenly lifted from the ground and swept back, wrestling with some unseen demon. The black spiral's face exhibited some sense of surprise, but in a moment a terrible snapping tear marked the removal of his head from his body, and both were dropped to the ground as carelessly as a broken toy.

A great, chattering series of short barks errupted from the confused black spiral pack as they looked and scented for their new enemy, which clearly they could not find any trace of.

Then something moved, and great clawprints sunk into the ground, brushing against some of the leaves there with a faint papery sound. The air shimmered, and slowly the body of a great, beautiful black garou coalesced into existence. Turning towards where Jarod stood against the tree, she gazed at him for a moment with eerily familiar lupine yellow eyes. Those eyes he knew. He knew them intimately.

Kaia...

..................................

Kaia's not here anymore, pretty one. I'm sorry.

And she was sorry, for she had seen in his eyes a memory of something she could no longer be. Something that was destroyed by the darkness she'd swallowed into herself to save an ignorant and ungrateful town from the product of its own sins.

Turning, the creature gazed into the eyes of her startled and angry prey. One of them took the initiative to step towards her, growling.

"Who are you? Why have you done this thing?"

"Abomination, they call me." She whispered like a snake through her teeth. "I do as pleases me." Her tail swished behind her as she closed the distance between herself and the foolish black spiral which had spoken to her. His scent advertised fear, but he stood his ground.

"We serve the same master, you and I. The kindred gave you a great gift. You should use it to help our side, not fight it."

With a low, rumbling growl, the creature leapt onto her prey, pinning him to the ground. Her undead eyes glowed with primal intensity as she leaned close to whisper into his ear, her voice encapsulating a cold hatred. "The kindred gave me nothing....they took everything, and I have no master. I wish only for pain."

And for daring to assume, the black spiral's punishment was feeling the force of the creature's rage. She tore into him slowly, letting him feel death overtake him with all the pain and regret she herself harbored inside her ancient memory.

....................................

From the outskirts, Rashona watched as the pack stood motionless, as if hypnotized, while their brother was torn to pieces in front of them. His snarls and yelps reached out into the air like claws against her sensitive ears, and though Rashona was not prone to feeling fearful of things, a cold shiver ran down her spine.

....................................

What followed next could only be described as a slaughter. Perhaps there was something to Rashona's guess at hypnosis, for even when the black spirals did finally decide to run, they were slow and clumsy, as if too much overcome with fear to really understand the fate which had suddenly befallen them. And the creature... the abomination... she fell upon her prey with a viscious frenzy none of them could ever come close to matching.

Only one was allowed to escape, and as he took off towards safety, the creature grew huge, bat-like wings and soared off into the air, swooping down like some kind of wolfen gargoyle to land on the escapee's back and send him crashing to the ground beneath her.

"Take this warning, hyena," she snarled. "Not in my forest. Never again. Send as many as you wish... I'll murder every last one." With that, she released him and with a great beat of her wings, took off once more and dissappeared into the pitch black sky.

.................................

Rashona tried not to look around her as she stepped carefully through the slain bodies of her enemies. When she reached the tree Jarod was pinned to, she paused to look him in the eye. He seemed barely there, pale from loss of blood and muscles shaking gently from prolonged over-use, but there was enough light left in his gaze to understand the look in hers. With the faintest of nods, he gave permission to do what she needed, and Rashona reached up and tore the klaive free from his chest.

With a tight gasp of breath, he slumped down into Rashona's waiting arms. She held his weight carefully, lifting him from the ground like a child, though now that she too had returned to her natural form, she was no larger than he was. As she turned, she heard a whisper of air and leaves, and the two of them were greeted by the sight of a beautiful woman with wolf-yellow eyes.

The woman gazed at them silently, then she stepped forward, moving with a predatory grace that could not hide behind pale human skin. Slowly she reached out towards Jarod's semi-conscious form, but Rashona took a step back, and surprisingly the woman relented to this decision, though she could easily have pressed her point and won.

"I remember you, Jarod Nightingale," she spoke softly, almost hesitantly. "You saved Kaia's life, once. You saved... my life, once." The woman watched him for a long time, and for a moment there seemed to be some inkling of regret in her strange eyes. "My debt to you is repaid."

With that, the woman turned and moved into the woods, which swallowed her like so much smoke and shadow.