Traitor Wolf

by Sycogerl64

 

Chapter 3: Why, Blue?

 

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No really she didn’t. Now that she was actually sitting on the trans express to Lunar City (made it up, don’t mock me T_T) she was starting to wonder if perhaps her good sense was slipping or maybe she’d been under the influence of something when she’d brought the stupid ticket to the station and boarded this idiotic train to go where ever the world it was she was going.

The ticket said Lunar City didn’t it? But somehow she felt compelled not to believe the scrap of paper stub. After all if hadn’t been she who bought it but an unknown factor in this strange and twisted tale of mystery. Cher loved mystery novels, being a scientist discovering the mysteries of the world, the idea of the unknown thrilled her as much as it frustrated her.

And the last few months of her life had been . . . frustrating.

Cheza, the Flower Maiden, had been kidnapped. Right in front of her eyes in fact. Cher shivered at he memory, the terrible things she saw in the eye of that man. His mournful, terrible gaze, looking out at her from beneath that porcelain mask as he sent her careening into a world of wolves and nightmares, still haunted her.

Besides the mental assault, the kidnapped had done far worse. He’d stolen Cheza…and then gone and lost her. Yes, the idiot had lost her; to a pack of no account street brats at that. Cher glanced thoughtfully out the window over the endless oceans spanning from the train tracks. She gazed into the foaming, lashing depths of the dark seas, feeling that the sea somehow sensed her mood and roiled to match it.

Then she received this mysterious E-mail. An invitation to something supposedly important. Most unsettling. Good sense once again tried to reason with her usually cooperative mind and tell her to return to the ground searches with the others (not that they would appreciate her since they mostly considered her a soft palmed intellectual and no use to them at all) but. . .

But…

But: that horrible, evil word that interrupted her logical and methodical thoughts and threw off her impeccable rationality. It was infuriating, but she could not deny that it was this very word that had fueled her career and made her what she was today.

A valued mind in the world of modern science.

…and divorced.

Cher shook away that last, clinging thought and dismissed it as frivolous regrets imagined by her weary mind. She was so caught up in her work it was actually making her believe that her ex: Hubb, could sooth her frazzled nerves. She snorted softly to herself, gazing at her pale, reflection through her wire framed glasses. Her silky pile of goldenrod tresses swirled up in a neat twist behind her head, artfully placed curls of hair hanging over her forehead, skillfully accenting sculpted cheekbones and wide, carefully make-upped sky blue eyes.

She was considered a beauty and wasn’t ashamed of it. She vigilantly maintained her appearance out of simple habit, but her work filled all of her free time and she had no wish to go angling for all those other ‘fish in the sea’ or so it were. Her divorce hadn’t been pleasant, but her new-found single-hood wasn’t much fun either. No point in being single if you’re work makes you unavailable anyway.

Hubb used to say she was never really married to him, but to all the studies on Cheza the Flower Child. Cher admitted it was ironically true. Of course that hadn’t been the only thing that had driven them apart, but Cher had the uneasy feeling that if it hadn’t been for Cheza, her life might have been a much more meaningful one.

Shaking all these feelings away she refocused on her previous train of thought: What was it that made her come out here?

Cher felt it had something to do with what she’d seen back on that mountain top in Central Garden. When she’d glimpsed the missing Flower Maiden for the first time in a month since she’d been taken, she’d been running with those delinquents, care-free and … smiling. Cheza had been smiling.

Cher closed her eyes, recalling that smile; the way she motioned for her new companions to follow her. Cher was certain she’d seen her clasp hands with one of them. Yes, that young wild thing, the one with messy black brown hair and ragged clothing. She could see him clearly in her mind: intense eyes (a dark color, she couldn’t tell what) set forward, locked on Cheza like she was the only thing that mattered in the universe. Not even the man he’d taken down could distract his gaze from her.

The scientist sighed and propped her chin on her hand.

He was so familiar. She was certain she’d seen him before. Him and that one ginger haired kid in the orange sweatshirt. Hadn’t she seen both of them somewhere before. Oh, but it was hopeless, like a song long forgotten, but the tune stuck in your head it was for Cher.

For come strange reason her thoughts kept flickering back to that big white dog they captured a couple months ago.

The train shuddered and screeched to a halt. The scenery had shifted from blue ocean to overgrown metropolis, crumbling buildings and scant few people going about their work, some how scraping a living out of the weather beaten city. The woman quickly gathered her jacket about her slender shoulders and moved toward the door; mentally reciting the e-mail and postcard she’d been sent.

-‘Go to Stony Brook Square and wait in the old chapel. I have a very interesting proposition concerning the whereabouts of Cheza. No harm will come to you, I am I business man with information and proof. . .proof that wolves exist. Come if you will. I will wait until 8:00 PM: 2 hours after the first train to Lunar City arrives. The data I hold may prove the key to drawing Cheza safely back to you.’-

Cher was no fool. (if running out to meet an unknown person in the middle of nowhere was not foolish) She knew he/she wanted something in return, but some obscure personality inside her drove the scientist to abandon reason and simply go with gut instinct, something she’d been certain she’d forgotten.

“Stony Brook Square,” Cher muttered, thirty minutes of walking and direction asking later. She stared up through the drifting snow flakes overhead into the gray skies. The spires and ancient walls of the old chapel reeled into the clouds like unmovable sentinels.

“Cheery,” she murmured softly, sashaying briskly into the building, pausing only to part the two forbidding wood doors. They moaned like wakened ghosts, hinges echoing throughout the cavernous structure. She carefully let the doors swing shut behind her and moved down the debris strewn center aisle. The pews were rotting away, going back to dust as age stole away their former luster and strength. The stained glass windows were broken, colorful shards littering the carpet like broken dreams of a child.

My Lord, that was morbid.

“So Dr. You have come.”

Cher turned coolly to address the male speaker behind her. He must be the mysterious e-mailer. She took a breath, a careful and well through out demand for information moving to her lips. . .

Where it abruptly died and turned sour on her tongue.

“YOU!” she exclaimed in horror.

The masked man stepped into the light, leaving the shadowy corner of the second entryway to reveal that the familiar figure had at least switched out of his expansive black and blue robes and into a simpler black overcoat that hung off his wide shoulders and trailed to his feet. She noted with detached numbness that he was built quite well. The strange head piece was absent, revealing dark, blue black hair that only just touched his shoulders.

However, that horrible, haunting white mask was unmistakable. This was Cheza’s kidnapper.

“Yes. But I’d prefer to be called Darcia,” he returned mildly.

Cher swallowed convulsively and stilled her frayed nerves.

-OK. Stay in control.  Don’t be stupid. If he wanted to kill you he could have done so back at the lab. He may have valuable information and he seems to know much about Cheza. So. . . it won’t hurt to hear him out.-

The elegant lady took a deep breath, composed herself and stepped toward the man, trying to seem unshaken and cool.

“You seem to already know me as Dr. Cher Degre, so introductions would be redundant on my part,” she said calmly. “So. Lord Darcia. What news do you have of Cheza and this proposal of yours.”

Darcia’s reaction was hidden by the mask, only the emotionless stare of shadows were visible in those dark eyes. However there was a small chuckle that shook his shoulders a moment. He stepped forward and bowed slightly to her, very proper and gentlemanly.

“Very business-like, I admire that and will reciprocate in turn,” he said smoothly, straightening. Cher nodded in gratitude. “After you’re ship shot mine down you tracked Cheza to the Central Garden. Am I correct?”

She nodded almost imperceptibly, egging him to continue. He was quite the politician, she could tell. Darcia nodded back and went on.

“Your men were attacked by several ‘boys’ who took down a number of your soldiers and fled in the company of the Flower Maiden.  You glimpsed several of them as they lead Cheza into the ruins and vanished.”

Cher was disconcerted by Darcia’s note to detail. (And what did he mean with that emphasis on ‘boys'?) He knew far too much about this. He must have tracked their radio transmissions or hacked their computers for information. Impressive, but she didn’t want a recap of her failure, she wanted new data.

“These things I know. What have they to do with finding Cheza? And furthermore, what is all this talk of wolves? Why does it matter to out finding her?” Cher said sharply, digging into the questions with no mercy. It was her most effective strategy at getting the information she wanted. Be straight forward.

Darcia seemed to smile under the mask. “Very well, Dr, but I think that you already suspected something was happening with wolves. After all, Cheza was stirred by the scent of wolf blood. . .a very particular wolf, whether or not you were aware of it.”

“Go on.”

“Cheza reacted deeply to the scent of the wolf’s blood, because this wolf was seeking her out and she it,” Darcia said. The theory was so absurd that Cher knew without a doubt that this man believed it. It was unsettling, but strangely she found her logical mind did not reject the idea entirely, only became more curious.

“So, Cheza is somehow. . .connected with an extinct creature?” she asked skeptically, though she was anything but. She wanted answers you see and this was the best way to get them.

Darcia shook his head, obviously reading her game, but playing along. “No, my dear Dr; she is connected with a very live wolf. I think you have suspected this as a possibility. Cheza is a very special girl. She can feel things we cannot and see what others don’t.”

Cher was grim. “Wolves you mean.”

“Precisely.”

“OK. Let’s go out on a limb and say I believe you. How does that get me closer to finding Cheza. It’s intriguing that you think wolves have somehow survived without detection all these years, and even developed a mind to seek out the Flower Maiden; it’s radical thinking really. But my top priority is finding Cheza. How do these animals tie in? How have they gone unseen for so long?”

Darcia smiled again.

“I could not explain it to you. I can only show you, but I *can tell you that we have something that Cheza wants. Something she will physically come and find, she is so drawn to it,” the man said. “I have the wolf. The one Cheza’s spirit is connected to. She will come through the mouth of hell to find the wolf. She will come to us.”

Cher frowned.

“Why are you telling me this. Its sounds as if you could have taken Cheza without m help.”

“No, no. I do need you help. You have the technology with which to track the girl’s movements, where I have only rumor and . . . intelligence.”

Cher thought he wasn’t giving himself as much credit as he was due. Those details toward the battle at Central Garden had been amazing to say the least.

“I think there is more to it,” she said shortly.

“There is,” Darcia agreed. “You are Cheza’s guardian so to speak. I do not have interest in her forever. I need only use her for a simple purpose – non-violent I assure you – and I would like to see her safely taken home. Cheza should not be wandering without proper technology to sustain her. Her time grows short without appropriate sustenance.”

Cher bit her lip. She had suspected this would be true. Like a flower, Cheza survived on water, sunlight, moonlight and nothing more. But also mimicking a flower her life was very short. The boys she was traveling with could not know this.

“What purpose?” Cher asked slowly. This was beginning to sound too good to be true. Literally. There had to more to it. It sounded as if all he wanted was to use Cheza for a quick personal goal then hand her back over safely not to mention the scientific phenomenon of proving an entire species of canine still existed. It was too easy. He did all the work only to hand Cher exactly what she wanted. All the answers to her problems on a silver platter.

Well you know what they say about silver platters: More often than not, they’re actually baited.

“What is it exactly that you want to do?” Cher asked coolly. He should have expected this question, so it was perfectly fair of her to ask.

Darcia seemed to hesitate a moment, Cher noted this and watched him closely.

“To cure someone,” he said finally. “To save my love and my own life and regain my future.”

#$#$#$#$#$#$#

The waves were gone now. The pain had no substantial comparison except that he simply *hurt a lot right now. It was like a dream, a horrible dream that he was unable to wake from. He was no longer laying in a dark ocean, but instead a desert.

A scorched planet of earth so dry it cracked, but bled no blood for all its life waters had been devoured. Burning wind that held the breath of fire, cutting, sand that whipped at eh skin and ground it raw. Kiba was in the center of it all. Lying in his back again, eagle spread once more, his hair fanned out under his neck; jacket half hanging off his shoulders, spread beneath his wiry body. Paralyzed, Kiba looked on; his face a rigid mask of vacuity.

Except his eyes.

Kiba was the unfortunate owner of the most open and honest eyes any human or wolf could fathom. And right now, they were wide with a primal terror that the wolf had not experienced so deeply before in his entire life. He was screaming without a voice and no one could hear his howls of warning. His shouts of sorrow and despair at this nightmare. His agonized voice didn’t even fall upon deaf ears, because there was simply no one around to hear.

Kiba was trapped here, bound to the bloodless ground, helplessly watching the moon turn ruby red in the sky over him. As if the stars were weeping blood, the moon was turning a slow, sickening scarlet above him. He wanted to close his eyes, block out the awful sight that poisoned his mind and belief. The vision of death driven like a bolt of hell through his brow and burrowing deep into his thoughts. He didn’t think he could take this much longer.

-Cheza. . .-

He struggled to see her face. Tears threatened to burn his gaze as he thought of her. He’d failed to protect her. Darcia wanted her and Kiba had played right into his miserable hands.

-Blue.-

The half-wolf’s face easily materialized in his memories, blue eyes ruthless in her sharply beautiful face. Her legs across his chest, hands around his throat. He bit back a small sound of angry betrayal and struggled with himself, his own guilt and disappointment. She had turned on him.

She’d collared him herself.

The bloody moon was closing in on him, filling his world with crimson. Kiba struggled, body coiling and shifting in feeble attempts to break away from the invisible bindings holding him to the earth. Liquid splattered across his forehead in a large globule, exploding and coating his brow and soaking his hair. The metallic stench of fresh blood flooded his nose. It began to rain. Pour. The stars *were weeping blood. And Kiba was soaked, choking, blinking it from his deep green-blue eyes. Blood rose up around him, thick, sloshing, roiling, the moon glaring down at the lone wolf, sinking in blood. It was around his neck, seeping into his jacket, through his clothes.

The smell made his eyes burn, everything was scarlet.  He closed his eyes, fighting down a howl of despair as the disgusting liquid covered his face.

-Blue. Why? Why?-

@#@#@#@#@#@#@#@

“Blue why?” he asked softly. Blue forced her eyes to meet his, to stare down the painful realization his Kiba’s beautiful face. He looked so. . .calm. Always he looked so peaceful, like he knew exactly where he was going. Like he had every belief he would get there. As if he held no real regard to this world because it was only temporary. Like she hadn’t just sunk her fangs into his shoulder and grievously hurt him.

He just stood there, looking so blank and calm, like he had not yet figured her true reason for meeting him. She wanted him to get mad. She wanted him to fight her, to demand why she sided with the humans or go off on an angry tirade about Paradise, but no.

He just stood there, blood dripping down his arm and splattering the ground beside his sneaker. His own blood sprayed across the side of his neck and soaking his jacket and fur as shadows played across on side of his face hiding it. The other half was splattered in red, glistening clearly in the moonlight. Those eyes, pools of green-blue, so full of contented, hope before, so happy for her decision to join his friend and him on the journey to Paradise.

They were so empty now.

Blue reached to wipe Kiba’s blood from her mouth; she couldn’t stomach the taste of it. The warm, slick liquid made her body squirm with nausea. She was abhorred by the bitter tang of it on her tongue. She’d done it. There was no turning back. She told herself it wasn’t any different from the blood of any other wolves she’d killed. It was no different at all.

Except that it was.

Kiba reached up a hand to clutched the wounded shoulder, those sad, beautiful eyes watching her as she spat his blood on the ground.

Blue bared her teeth at him, fangs glistening, gleaming scarlet in the moonlight, dripping his thick, hot blood. She saw Kiba’s eyes widen very slightly, the sight of his own blood on her incisors must have only just registered. More to convince herself of her decision Blue licked the blood away and swallowed. Swallowed Kiba’s blood.

She felt filthy.

He lifted his face to hers, eyes unreadable.

“Blue. You didn’t mean it. You can’t want this,” he murmured. His voice. She hated that voice. Hated it because she loved it, the way he was so calm and quiet. The way she knew he was right and she was wrong. Like he was willing to give her a second chance after what she’d just done.

“You can still find Paradise, Blue. You’re a wolf. You know inside you want to, come with us.” Blue was stunned.

Kiba held out his hand, soaked with blood dripping from the wound she’d inflicted. She looked up from that scarlet smeared palm and into its owner’s eyes. They were gentle, still ready to take her as a pack sister. How could he!? How could he STILL accept her!? She hated him for not hating her! Hated his gentle eyes! Hated his perfect, beautiful face! Hated. . .hated. . .

SHE HATED HIS UNSHAKABLE FAITH!! Relieved to have found a fuel, she clung to that hatred.

Suddenly driven by the new emotion she moved across the floor and wrapped Kiba in an intimate embrace, ignoring his outstretched hand. Kiba seemed a bit perplexed but her sudden outburst. She could feel his blood hot though her jacket. She’d make him see!

She lowered her head to the would on his arm and slowly licked the blood from his coat. She drew back, feeling the warm red running over her lips and dribble over her chin. She locked eyes with Kiba, forcing him to see her, to watch tell him she was his enemy now. Consuming blood of another creature. IT stated she was a predator not. She was HUNTING him. His blood was in her mouth, on her lips, her tongue. She licked it from her lips and moved to do it again.

-Hate me! Hate me dammit!-

Kiba didn’t fight her at first, only stood there, stunned. She could tell he was still in shock by how easily he submitted to her perverse ministrations. The way his body relaxed in her hold as she dragged him close, running her tongue through his hair, lapping away the coating of blood in his fur and cleaning it from his skin.

Kiba’s arms moved up, slow, jerky, uncertain, so he could take her upper arms in his hands. They were so cool through her jacket. He tried to ease her away, gently, like a friend confused by the action of his old comrade.

-No! You have to fight me! Hate me! Don’t give in! I can’t do this unless you fight me!-

“What are you doing?” he asked, those intense blue-green eyes gazing into her indigo irises. “It’s not that serious. But we must move quickly to catch up with the oth-,”

-NO!! I’ll make you hate me!!!-

She darted forward and interrupted Kiba’s last word by sinking her teeth viciously into his shoulder a second time.

Time froze.

She whimpered silently as his blood spurted onto her tongue, hot, tangy, and thick. Kiba jerked, body shuddering involuntarily and he sank to his knees, her fangs deep in his body. She could hear his breathe catching in his throat, choked, panting, see the disbelief pooled in those green-blue irises as they went wide. Blue still held him, arms around his shoulders, face against him, fangs piercing pale skin. Why didn’t he fight beck? Why didn’t he stop her? In frustration her jaws clenched tighter and dug in deep.

Finally, Kiba showed some damn self preservation and kicked her solidly in the stomach. Blue grunted slightly, startled by the blinded agility in which Kiba had attacked her. She was knocked back on her tail end, doubled over and winded. Kiba was obviously fighting some pain as he stumbled back against the wall. He fetched up hard against the opposite side of room and nearly fell, sliding down the wall.

A dark scarlet smear was left on the stone.

He stared up at Blue through a curtain of wild black brown strands. Blood even dripped from his hair; was covering half of his face. She was enchanted by that stare, trapped by the look in his eyes that drove a bolt of agony through her chest. Betrayal on confusion. A painful vulnerability that the white wolf rarely exhibited.

The next moment glass shattered and exploded into the street as ever quick Kiba dove through the window and sprinted away. Blue stood, there a moment, blood splattered all over, coating her mouth, dripping. She’d just hurt Kiba.

She’d betrayed his trust. Pack trust.

She had nothing to lose now.

She gave chase.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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