|
"Things That Go Bump in the Night"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: Oranges are purple, the Wizard of
OZ actually exists, and the boys have signed a contract saying they
legally belong to me. And, no, they weren’t under the influence
of drugs or alcohol when they signed it either…well, okay, not
much. ^_^ Pairings: 3x4, existing 5xM Rating: Velvet says it’s an R Spoilers: Nope Warnings: AU (so, SOOO AU), supernatural, lime,
violence, some language, my twisted sense of humor…need I say
more? Author’s Chaotic Rambling on No Particular
Subject: Yeah. No idea where this came from. Sat down
to work on the 4x6, and wrote thirty pages of this instead. Granted,
I was in the mood for some supernatural kinkiness, but I wasn’t
planning on writing it! Ah well. *emphasized*
" Things That Go Bump in the Night" Chapter 2 One ingredient for which there is no adequate substitute:
YOU.
If, that is, Duo was telling the truth. After three hours of fruitless research, I remembered that my great-great-great-who-knows-how-many-greats grandmother’s journals were upstairs in a trunk in the attic. Ah. Now that might have something. It took another hour of some dusty digging, but I finally laid hands on them in the bottom of an old trunk and brought them downstairs. I holed myself up in my room and started to do some serious reading. The first journal was started when she was ten, and hard to read because of the childish handwriting. I decided after ten frustrating minutes of trying to decode the handwriting to skip that one and went to one where she was more mature. This one started when she was fifteen, and was much easier to read. At first I didn’t find anything, and I started skimming through it. Just normal occurrences, some thoughts…whoa. I backed up the beginning of the entry and started reading more carefully. August 6, 1765 I had an inkling as to why. She probably realized at that point that her daughter would get sucked into a pack somewhere because of her abilities. I was certainly headed in that direction. This definitely confirmed what Duo had told me. I kept reading, wondering what had happened after that point. It might prove to be a model for the twist my life had taken. I was so engrossed in reading that I almost ignored the knock on my front door. Frowning I put the journal aside, careful to mark my place before rising and going down to answer it. My visitor was a complete surprise. “Trowa?” The brunet ducked his head at me, a sign of respect I was not used to. “The Packmaster has made some decisions I thought you should be aware of. Can I come in?” “Of course.” I stepped back to give him room to enter, closing the door behind him. “Here, let’s go in the living room and get comfy.” I led him into the sunken room, letting him settle on the couch before taking a chair next to him. “What decisions?” “We are to escort you to and from school,” Trowa informed me calmly. From the look he was giving me, he was sure I was going to object. “And if you take any trips out of town, for any reason, we are to provide protection for you.” …uh-huh. Dryly I enquired, “He does realize that I haven’t agreed to become a member of your pack?” Trowa’s expression became a little strained. “Even if you do not agree, we will do this.” “WHAT?” I was flabbergasted at this little bit of trivia. A little annoyed, too. “Why?!” “You are much, much more important than you realize, Quatre. We cannot risk losing you to some accident. You are the first empath we have even heard of in over a hundred years.” “Oh.” I guess…I guess I could see where they were coming from, then. Didn’t mean I had to like it though. “That being said…” Trowa caught me with his eyes, voice earnest. “Please, join the pack. We need you. Not just to keep us sane, but… We can protect you, care for you, so much better if you live with us. When you are outside of our borders, anything can happen to you and we won’t know it until it’s too late.” An epiphany struck as I looked at him. Slowly I whispered, “Trowa, if werewolves are real…what else is real?” “Everything.” I could think of a few creatures I didn’t want to be real. “And vampires really hunt people…” “Most of them don’t kill people, if that’s any consolation.” Not really, no. “Are there things that hunt people and kill?” “More than a few. It’s the ones that would take you and use you for their own purposes that worry me the most.” I heard it without him saying it. Most creatures were not like Duo—they wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stood up, needing to pace, even if it was back and forth in front of the couch. “I pulled out some journals from my many-greats grandmother. It validates everything your Packmaster said to me today.” I blew out a noisy breath, pausing in my pacing. Pacing, by the way, does not help you come to any conclusions. I wonder why I do it anyway. “Trowa, I need to think on this. Give me at least a day or so to come up with a decision?” “I wasn’t here to push you,” Trowa assured me quietly. There was a brief smile that darted over his face. “I just…knew you would appreciate more information. You can give us your decision when you are ready to do so. We’ll wait.” Smiling at him, I nodded. “Okay. Oh…I should mention one thing. I told two of my best friends that you are ‘not human’. It was the most I knew at the time. One of them doesn’t quite believe me, she thinks you’re just very different from most people. I can play it toward that, if you prefer people to not know what you are.” “Please.” I nodded, unsurprised by his answer. “Consider it done, then.” “I’ll leave now. When should I pick you up?” I blinked at him. “You’re going to be my protection?” “Heero and I will be.” Ah. Well, they did go to school with me. I suppose that made things easier all around. “I usually leave at seven-thirty.” Trowa simply nodded, accepting the time and quietly left. I watched him hop on a motorcycle and drive off, still feeling a little unbalanced by all of this. I had the feeling that tomorrow, after I had a chance to read more of that journal, and think, I’d have a great many more questions for him. Right now, though…food was definitely in order. + “Quatre, I’m home!” Iria! Excellent, I really needed my sister’s input. I hopped out of my bed and bounced down the stairs. “Hey sis, you won’t believe what happened to me today.” She paused in putting her coat away in the hall closet to give me an amused look. “Animal, vegetable or mineral?” “Animal. Sort of.” “Please tell me you didn’t take it home with you.” Iria rolled her eyes. She was used to me bringing home injured animals and nursing them back to health. She never let me keep something, though. I think she was afraid of the house being turned into some kind of domestic zoo. “Actually…it was the other way around. They wanted to take me home with them.” “They?” she repeated suspiciously. I grabbed her arm, towed her into the kitchen, and had her sit in a chair before continuing. “Are you aware that empathy runs in our family?” “…mother used to tell me tales about that, yes. It’s why I knew what was happening with you. But what does that have to do with—” I held up a hand, stemming the question. “I met a boy at school yesterday that was not human. I could clearly feel it. He knew it too. Today I met his pack. Yes, pack. He’s a werewolf.” I didn’t feel that this fell under the ‘no-telling’ promise I had made to Trowa. My sister, after all, was a Raberba too even if she didn’t have any empathic powers. I could trust her, and so could they. Iria looked almost faint. “Are you sure? And what do you mean you met his pack? You went with him?!” “Yes, I’m sure. There’s no mistake. You can’t fool my empathy. And yes, I went with him. He’s not a bad person, Iria. Actually I trust him more than I trust most humans. His whole pack is that way. The Packmaster wanted to meet me—he’s the one that told me empathy ran in the family. Apparently the Raberba family was well known as empaths, and every were clan did their best to have at least one of them as a pack member.” Iria had a hand pressed to her forehead as if trying to keep it from falling off. “I can’t believe you did that… I’ll yell at you for that later, tell me more about this ‘packmaster’ first. Does he want you to join the pack?” “Yes. What he told me is that empaths are necessary for weres. We help balance them, emotionally I mean. He isn’t pressuring me into it, thankfully. He’s just…asking very persuasively.” “Well, he can keep asking!” Iria looked indignant at the very idea of me joining them. Unfortunately, she didn’t know the half of it. “Iria. Think about this for a second. Werewolves are real. So is every other creature of legend, including the ones that use and hunt humans. Considering my ability, and how well known our family name is, do you really think I can live a safe, normal life?” She didn’t answer immediately, being very disturbed by this question. After a long moment she ventured, “And you think that by living with this pack you’ll be safer?” “I know I will. Right now they are extending their protection to me, until I can make up my mind one way or another. Trowa—the first were I met—told me that they would protect me whether I joined the pack or not, but… I’m not sure if that would really last. All I know is, when I was talking to him about this, he was genuinely worried about leaving me here outside of their territory.” I sat down in the chair next to my sister. Morosely I admitted, “I’m torn, Iria. I’ve been reading those journals of Great Grandmother Anja’s. She was an empath that was adopted into a pack. She balked at joining them at first, and it almost got her killed. She was attacked by something she didn’t recognize, something bent on draining her of her power. If it weren’t for a were’s intervention, she would have died. The same thing can happen to me.” “Quatre, this is a modern age. Things don’t happen like that anymore.” “Yes they do,” I whispered. “Sis, ten minutes ago did you think that werewolves even existed outside of Hollywood?” “…no,” she confessed lowly. “Then we can’t assume these things don’t continue to happen simply because we haven’t heard about it. I’m inclined to think it does happen. Something has Trowa worried. Something has a Packmaster worried about my safety, enough to where he’s given orders to protect me. I don’t have all the answers, sis, but what little I do know is scaring me spitless.” “I think I want to read those journal entries,” Iria finally stated. “I want to see it for myself.” That was only fair. “I’ll go get them. And sis…seriously, I’m still thinking about it. It’s just instinct that says it’s safer to live with the pack. The rest of me…well, I’m not sure if that’s something I want to do, truthfully.” “You said they’re good people. Are you going back on that?” “No! Not at all. It’s just…they’re werewolves. I’m sure their culture, hell their values, are very different in some ways from a human. I’m not sure if I would want to live with them.” Iria gave me a perturbed stare. “Now I really want those journals.” Come to think of it, Grandmother Anja had been living with a pack. She was sure to mention what it was like living with them. “Feel up to some midnight reading?” “Bring it on.” ~*~*~*~ Honor: Okay, a note for all of you non-American people. Our school systems (according to Caitilin) are a little different from everybody else’s. In high schools here it works like this: freshmen are 14-15, sophmores are 15-16, juniors are 16-17, seniors are 17-18. Depends on their birthdays. I hope this clears up any mass confusion Trowa’s age might cause…
|
