A Place to Belong: Chapter 17

Chapter XVII

When Will You Rage?

“Let’s take a break here for a few minutes,” I said as our group passed through a crumbling brick wall and into a rough cut mining tunnel. There were iron tracks rusting in the dirt and old electrical lamps hanging from the ceiling. The long maw of the tunnels extended out in either direction, but I knew that Ledger would help along the way. Taking out a flashlight, I pulled out a book and began drawing the ritual circles in the dirt by the crumbling wall. 

“What are you doing?” Isadora asked, curiously, as I worked. 

“Putting up a ward,” I explained. “After the warning Cass gave us about the Garou, I decided it would be best to learn how to ward against them. The baroness was willing to teach me, and told me that as we moved through the tunnels I should set them at intersections to try and slow any pursuers down.” 

“The baroness told you we were coming down here before she told the rest of us?” Callie asked, her sharp tone returning, but I could still hear the note of fear in her voice. “Seems like you’re getting all the insider information. I’m starting to wonder what your relationship with her really is. You her little boy toy?” 

She turned and looked at Isadora, a mock sweet smile on her lips. 

“Does that make you jealous?” Callie asked Isadora, venom in her voice. “Or do you not mind sharing him with a much, much older woman.” 

My eyes flicked up and I saw Isadora standing there, seemingly still and calm as ever, though I was beginning to pick up on her subtle tells. She was too still, so much so that I could see the slight tremble of her hands, imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t familiar with her reactions. Her eyes, probably the most expressive part of her face with their subtle movements, went completely dead and hollow, a caricature of the impression she gave others, a conscious choice to hide the true emotion she was feeling. Callie’s words were bothering her, though whether it was because she actually was feeling jealous of my sire or because she knew Callie was manipulating her, I could not tell. 

“You’re really not learning your lesson here, are you chika?” Diego’s voice came, half teasing, half smooth. Isadora’s hands stopped shaking, and I was impressed by his ability to deescalate the situation. “Picking fights and trying to get a rise out of the only people watching your back.” 

Callie whirled on him, fire in her eyes and acid in her voice. 

“The people who are ‘watching my back?’ Really?” she spat. “The people who drove a dagger into it maybe. Tell me exactly how manipulating me, threatening me, and practically kidnapping me is having my back!” 

“The part where most other kindred in this position would have left you for dead hours ago,” Diego answered her, gaining a bit of an edge to his voice. “You’re so busy seeing how you’re the victim here, you don’t realize that you just got outplayed at your own game. You’re a manipulator too. You’re not pissed you got manipulated. You’re pissed that you lost.”

His words seemed to strike Callie like a physical blow. She grit her teeth, and in the werelight of my flashlight, I could see her delicate fangs glimmering dangerously. Her body tensed, getting ready to spring, and Diego continued to stare at her, his body relaxed, arms folded, as if daring her to try and strike him. At that moment, the power of my circle snapped closed, sealing the ward. 

“Done,” I said, getting up and shining my flashlight around the mineshaft, looking for what I knew was hidden there, somewhere. 

“What are you doing?” Diego asked, turning his attention from Callie, which was apparently an even bigger insult than his verbal jabs. She snarled at him. 

“Don’t you ignore me!” she snapped, stamping her foot and clenching her fists. “I’m not done talking.” 

“You never are,” Diego said, rolling his eyes before turning back to me. “Is this about how you knew to go left?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, also ignoring Callie’s little outburst. The more time spent with her, the more I began to realize that outside of her preferred arena, she wasn’t as dangerous a threat as I’d initially assumed. She had very little versatility, which was the first thing that would need to be addressed if she ever decided that we were her better option, which I hoped she would. 

“Care to explain?” Diego prompted, apparently expecting more of an answer from me. 

“Sorry, lost in thought,” I said, realigning myself with the present. “When we moved into the Aerie I found some notes and a journal from a kindred who’d used it before us. His name was Ledger, or at least his codename was, and I believe he was a Nosferatu.” 

“A famous one,” Isadora said, nodding. “At least, among his own kind. They practically revered him for his bravery and dedication.” 

“Well, if only he’d listened to them instead of the Camarilla elite,” I said, shaking my head. “He was pretty hung up on gaining their respect, which apparently he never did. He had some rather… unpleasant things to say about the Toreador and Ventrue who were in power at that time.”

“I’m pretty sure that Ventrue was Marcus,” Isadora said, her voice smooth and calm, but I caught the hidden venom. The words were subtle, but meant to strike at Callie, who was staring daggers at Isadora.

“Marcus used to be Camarilla?” Diego asked, a note of surprise in his voice. His eyes narrowed as they turned to Callie. “Which means you used to be as well.” 

“Remember that I was Camarilla as well,” Isadora said, controlling the anger that her words were triggering, at least in Diego. “Up until they betrayed me.”

Those last few words made Callie shrink back slightly, but the fury on her face didn’t fade. 

“Yes, we were Camarilla, but they didn’t abandon us, Marcus abandoned them… and he dragged me with him.” There was a bitterness to her voice that I’d never heard before. Normally she spoke with anger or disgust, now I was hearing self-pity and frustration. 

“You’re still a Cammie,” Diego practically growled, and I watched as his stance changed to a more aggressive pose. I held up a hand. 

“No one’s a Cammie down here, Diego,” I pointed out, drawing a surprised look from both him and Callie. “Even if she tried to return to the Camarilla, they’d punish her for not only her actions, but for Marcus’ as well. Even if she wanted to go back, she knows she’s safer with the Anarchs now.” 

Callie looked away, a small pout playing on her lips as if she was trying to keep herself from crying. Either I’d struck the right nerve or she was a fantastic actress. Either way, it was having the necessary effect on Diego. He looked at her, still a light of anger in his eyes, but now more pity than before. 

“Besides that, this deep down we’re not going to be able to rely on any alliance other than the one we hold among us, as fragile as it is,” I continued, looking at each of them. “Camarilla or Anarch doesn’t matter down here.” 

Diego started to retort, but I shot him a look that silenced him. 

“I know your opinions, Diego,” then I turned to face all of them. “I know all your opinions. And I can respect them. I can respect all of them.”

My eyes locked on Callie’s for just a moment before continuing. She looked surprised, almost enough to interrupt me, but apparently thought better of it. Closing her mouth and bowing her head slightly, she let me continue. 

“But right now, despite our massively differing opinions and levels of loyalty, we have much bigger problems. The sun will be rising soon, according to my watch, and we need to get to a safe point before the daysleep takes us,” I pointed the flashlight at a wooden beam, exposing a sigil carved into the wood. 

It was a backwards “L” where the top looped over and spiraled around the height of the letter, hanging off the bottom like a little tail. I pointed to the left, the direction the smaller, horizontal line of the letter was pointing. “We go left here. Ledger says so.” 

“Can we trust Ledger?” Diego asked, crossing his arms, clearly unhappy with the idea of trusting the intel of a Camarilla agent. 

“He was the best,” Isadora confirmed, looking at Callie. “I’m sure even the Ventrue would admit it. Though it may be they only would admit to it under torture.” 

Callie pursed her lips, then gave a curt nod of agreement. She didn’t speak, she didn’t make eye contact, but she’d confirmed what Isadora and I were saying. Diego grunted begrudgingly, then nodded. 

“Fine, we’ll trust the Cammie,” Diego said, though I noted he didn’t say which one. He turned and started walking down the left passage, following my directions. We walked in silence for a long time, our feet barely making any noise as we headed up the dirt tunnel, blackness all around us, trusting Diego and Isadora to lead us through the pitch. Perhaps that’s why we were able to hear it, the sound of heavy muffled steps, like the silent paws of a massive predator slinking closer. There was a slight stagger in Diego’s gait that warned me he’d heard it too. Unfortunately, what was hunting us also heard. The cautious padding instantly shifted to a rush propelled by claws ripping through the dirt, propelling the attacker forward…

Attackers…

I heard the second set of claws tearing towards us moments before Isadora’s arms wrapped around me and ripped me to one side. 

“Light!” I roared at Callie, who was already pulling out her phone. Normally, those little LEDs weren’t bright enough to illuminate much, but in the complete darkness of the mineshaft it was bright as a beacon. 

Two massive figures, hunched and covered in shaggy fur appeared in the light of Callie’s phone. Their forms were twisted nightmares of human and lupine features forced together. Glittering fangs and lolling tongues framed hot, fetid breath. Gleaming red eyes, windows to hunger and violence stared back at us. Heavy slabs of muscle rippled beneath unnaturally long limbs, coiled and ready to strike. Garou in their Crinos forms, the true vision of a werewolf, were circling and preparing for their second strike. 

One’s head swivelled, turning on Callie instantly, as if sensing she was the weakest of the pack, though it could have just been that she was carrying the light source. The beast’s wolfish features seemed to grin as she screamed in fear. It lunged forward, jaws outstretched, ready to give her the final death. 

A wreath of shadows bloomed into the light, and the phone flickered and died, though not before I saw Diego, body an ethereal mixture of kindred and shadow, slam into the Garou. In the darkness, the sound of a pained whine and snapping bone filled the air. There was some kind of scuffle, but I couldn’t see. Pulling out my flashlight would only make me a target, but without it, I was a sitting duck. 

Isadora couldn’t fight without calling her spirits, and I didn’t know what kind of spirits she’d find here. Callie couldn’t fight, period. There was no way we could expect Diego to take care of two Garou on his own while we sat back and did nothing. 

I pulled out the flashlight and clicked it on. 

The old maglite came to life, even the curse of the Lasombra unable to counteract the simple mechanics of heavy metal and four D batteries. The first thing I saw was the pupils of the second Garou dilate in sudden, painful, illumination. Its jaws snapped shut an inch too soon from hitting Isadora’s upheld arm. She had fallen back, taken a defensive pose that would have done nothing to actually protect her. The Garou snarled, shaking its head violently to clear the sudden destruction of its night vision in one eye. With a new target, it turned at me. 

Using my fangs, I slashed my palm and whipped an arch of blood at the raging beast, pushing my sorcery into it. Fur hissed and burned as my corrosive vitae bit into its hide like acid, eliciting a roar of pain, but not slowing it down. I raised my arm to throw another strike, but before I could, the Garou had closed the distance. 

It slammed into me like a truck, and even my vampiric body couldn’t take that kind of abuse. My vision blurred and I realized I was horizontal on the ground, my skull bouncing off the hard packed dirt of the mine. My light rolled away, casting strange shadows against the stony walls. I tried to lift my arms, but found they were pinned to the ground, heavy claws biting into my forearms, the pain slowly registering in my addled brain. I felt the heat from the Garou’s breath in my face and panic began to slip into my mind, overwhelming my logic. The beast roared in its cage, shaking the bars so hard I thought my ears were ringing. 

Fight! Flee! Do something! We cannot die! We must not be prey!

It had always whispered, never screamed, and its urgency panicked me even more. I whipped my head around wildly, looking for something, anything that could save me. Callie was frozen in fear, Isadora was trying to get to her feet, and Diego… I couldn’t see him, but I heard his combat with the other Garou. 

No time, I thought to myself. No time! What do I do? What do I do!

Predator! Use your weapons! The beast screamed at me, and though my mind was screaming for me not to fall to my baser instinct, not to let fear and panic override my senses, the urge to survive was too powerful. As the Garou’s fangs came down at me, mine bit into its arm.

Rich, hot blood poured into my mouth. It tasted earthy, heavy… and wrong. The Garou howled in pain, pulling its maw back away from my head, and so I bit harder, hoping to pry it off me… or kill it… kill it… kill it… 

My chest expanded, heat pulsing through it, and a familiar rage began to settle in my unbeating heart. I felt it pump. I felt it beat. I felt it hammer. Like a drum, my dead heart began to thud into the cage of my chest, mirroring the fists of my beast hammering against its cage. The world around me blurred out of focus, and then my eyes turned to see the lupine creature on top of me in pure, crystalline detail, hued in red. 

It tried to kill us, the beast whispered to me, and something in my chest gave way. I felt something flooding my limbs, my body, my mind. 

The beast’s cage broke.

* * *

I got to my feet, just as I saw Grey collapse under the bulky form of the Garou. Ice formed in the pit of my stomach as my Oblivion sight warred with the flickering flashlight he’d dropped in the struggle. Diego and his Garou were still fighting and Callie, as expected, was useless. This was the one time, however, that I did not begrudge her that paralyzing terror. My mind wanted to push my body, throw it at the Garou, pull the beast off of Grey and do anything I could to save him. 

Then the Garou howled in pain. It pulled back, drawing its arm away, clutching at a bleeding wound. Grey was laying beneath it, eyes burning with rage, and I felt my heart sink as I saw the deep crimson smeared across his mouth. My eyes widened in horror at the realization of what he’d done. 

“Grey!” I heard my own voice scream, strained and tinny, unused to the stress I was putting it under. “Don’t!” 

My warning came too late. The resonance of Garou blood was pure rage. As it pulsed through his body, the rage took him, and I watched Grey devolve into a frenzy. His beast took over, unleashing his full strength with zero regard for pain or fear, fueled entirely by desperation and fury. His fist slammed into the Garou’s chest, staggering the beast, but even completely unleashed, Grey’s physical strength was nothing compared to the wall of muscle that was the Garou. Despite that, Grey threw his fist again and again until I heard bones crack and break. The Garou, shaking its head, clearing away the pain, turned and looked down at Grey with hate and disgust. 

“Die, leech,” it said, a low, gravelly voice uttered in a guttural tone. It raised its claw, ready to bring it down on Grey in a final, definitive strike. 

A tendril of blood whipped out from Grey’s body, catching the monster’s wrist in midair, causing both the hulking monster and myself to pause in confusion. Blood Sorcery required a clear mind to perform. It was impossible to call upon the magic the Tremere had access to when in such a state, yet here, despite his frenzy, Grey was casting. 

Another tendril whipped out, wrapping around the Garou’s throat, squeezing it tightly. As the Garou’s hand came up to grip at the blood leash suddenly around its neck, another tendril whipped out and gripped its other arm. The tendrils lifted the Garou off Grey’s body, and I watched in horror as Grey pushed himself to his feet, not with his limbs, but with more tendrils of blood. 

The air was thick with the smell of vitae and I began to shake as I saw Grey, each of his pores oozing blood, but none of it fell in droplets to the ground. Instead, it congealed, wrapping around him, his body encased in a cocoon of bloodied tendrils. He seemed to grow in size, his hands and feet becoming bloodied talons, his head was little more than a ball of tendrils, wrapped so that two black voids acted as his eyes. The tendrils parted where his mouth should be, exposing rows and rows of needle like teeth, all formed from his own vitae. As he opened that horrific mouth, he unleashed a screech that made my own vitae grow cold. 

Grey never moved, his tendrils drew the Garou to him, its arms held aloft on either side of its body leaving it completely helpless. Grey drove his talons forward as the Garou was pulled into him and it howled in pain as the six sharp points of Grey’s talons drove deep into the Garou’s belly. More tendrils began to lash out, wrapping around the Garou’s limbs. The tip of each tendril seemed to shine in the light of the maglite, and I realized they were hardening into blades of blood. 

He didn’t force the tips of these blades into the Garou’s flesh as much as he allowed them to slowly slither under its skin, creeping through meat and bone, eliciting howls of pain that were completely devoid of rage. These were panicked, pathetic cries of a creature sensing its own horrifically slow and painful death. The sounds of Diego and the other Garou fighting ceased. It was as if time itself was standing still, waiting to see just how far gone Grey had slipped from us. 

The cries change to shrieks as the sound of hissing and the smell of acrid meat filled the air. I watched in horror as the flesh of the Garou began to bubble and leak from under the surface of its skin. Realization hit me in a horrific wave of understanding and nausea. I’d seen this power before, he’d used it just moments ago, but nowhere nearly as effectively. Grey had turned his tendrils into solid manifestations of his corrosive vitae, burning the Garou from the inside out, his vitae melting it before our eyes. The flesh began to slough off the bone, falling to the ground with wet slaps until there wasn’t enough of it left to support the Garou’s body. The mangled creature fell to the dirt, twitching and whimpering, still trying to scream as the light faded from its eyes far too slowly. 

Death, while never beautiful, was never meant to be this horrific. 

I looked up at Grey, or at least the monstrous form he was wearing, and didn’t recognize anything about him. The creature, the beast, who piloted him seemed to be seeking, searching for fresh prey. This was a moment, I knew, that would be one I carried with me for however long my eternity lasted. 

The moment shattered as the other Garou’s voice, still deep and gravelly, but now carrying with it a note of panic that I’d never imagined such a powerful beast could vocalize, pierced the darkness. 

“The Wyrm wears the leech!” it howled, and I heard scrabbling claws as it ripped itself away from Diego, running away in a full blooded panic. “The Tainted Moonchild lives! He lives!” 

As the creature fled into the darkness, Grey’s void eyes turned in its direction, tracking it. Then its eyes panned around, seeing us, as if for the first time. The tendrils around him began to shiver, like the tails of dozens of rattle snakes eager to strike. He began to coil himself, preparing to leap. Before he could, I found my voice. 

“Diego!” I shouted, summoning the shadows around me, feeling the spirits who lost themselves in these minds pressing against my mind. 

Their fear and anger at being forgotten and abandoned resonated with my own, teaching them swiftly that I am their kindred spirit, not just a kindred. Their presence swirled around me as Grey’s terrible visage turned to face me, the tendrils snapping into a rigid striking pose, like cobras rearing back and flaring their hoods. 

“Grab him!” I shouted as Grey lunged forward, his shriek causing Callie to cry out in fear, and only a moment later did I realize that I too was screaming. The points of his tendrils were aimed at me as I called upon the spirits not to protect me, but to save him. 

Thankfully, Diego was there to cover me. 

Smoky black cords of shadow whipped out from the darkness, coiling around the tendrils of blood, pulling them back and causing Grey to shriek in rage, turning his attention to Diego, who came barreling out of the darkness, half his body seemingly shrouded in shadow, but in reality it had become shadow. His body slammed into Grey’s, both forms somehow amorphous as they hit and rolled, shadow and blood coiling, wrapping, escaping and recapturing. My eyes could barely follow their battle. In one moment, Grey took the advantage, grabbing Diego and throwing him bodily into a nearby wall. 

There was no sound of impact. Diego simply melded into the wall, becoming pure shadow and vanishing from sight. Grey whipped his head around, frantically searching for his prey, when suddenly, the ground around him exploded into a cloud of shadow, wrapping around each of his limbs and tendrils, pulling him to his knees, fighting and screeching the whole way. 

I rushed forward, not sure how long Diego could hold him, and pressed the thumb of my right hand against Grey’s bloodied forehead, while cupping what I assumed to be his chin with my left. Before his beastial form could react, I pushed my shroud into his mind, stilling him, separating spirit from body. 

Three spirits swirled and toiled against one another in his body, a roiling sea of trauma, rage, and fear. The sense of it nearly overwhelmed my mind, but I clenched my jaw and held firm. 

“Grey,” I whispered to him, my voice calm and soft, seeking the man I knew inside the monster I now faced. “Grey.” 

Something twitched in the mind, the fear flickered, the pain flared, and the rage screamed, seeking to drown the other two out. I pushed harder, seeking the sliver of sense I knew existed, reaching out to grasp it. 

“Grey,” I repeated, sensing the struggle and feeling the battle being lost in front of me. A thought pierced my mind, a memory of Cass, a piece of him I never knew, and might never, but a piece of him all the same. 

“Bryan,” I whispered, my voice cool and calm despite the fear that gripped my chest, and suddenly the roiling sea calmed. It wasn’t sentiment that stopped the storm, but confusion. He had spent so long turning himself into Grey that the idea of her other self, his human self, seemed completely illogical to him. 

“I know you’re scared,” I kept talking, not willing to lose him now that I finally had his attention. “I know you’re angry. The future isn’t certain, but all anger comes from fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what we don’t understand, fear of pain or death. We both know that death is nothing to fear, but I know you, better than you realize. I know that your true fear lies in letting others die when you have the power to save them. When the Garou had you pinned, you weren’t afraid for your life, were you?”

I felt his beast recoil, snarl, fight, but I could also feel the bars of its cage closing back in around it. As the turmoil of his spirit calmed, the forms of the three began to appear before me. The mortal mind locked in a death grip with his beast, their fingers digging deep into each other's forearms. Around each of their throats were the flaming hands of a wolf-like creature, its claws burning and scaring, the rage that harmed those who carried it. The beast was scratching and clawing at it, panicked by its grip, but the mortal mind was trying to pry it away, gripping at the claws, pulling them back in hopes of freeing himself from their grip with pure force of will. 

My feet carried me across the near-placid waters, only the continued struggle causing ripples. I approached, and showed no fear, though I felt it pulsing through my very being. My hand reached out and gently pressed against the mortal’s back, my hand cold and lifeless, contrasting the burning rage that gripped him. 

“You cannot will away rage,” I whispered to him. “You cannot bury it and pretend it's not there. You can only face its source.” 

I rested my forehead on his shoulders, feeling his body shake against mine. Something flickered through him, a presence deeper and crueler, that vanished in just an instant. The energy that followed it was familiar, but not the present threat. I pushed it aside and pressed my body firmer against him, wrapping my arms around him protectively.

“What do you fear so much that you carry this much rage?” I asked, and the scene broke. Darkness surrounded me as the flames of rage flickered out with a final, impotent howl. The sound of weeping filled the air, and I looked for the mortal and the beast, my Oblivion cursed eyes trying to peer through the darkness. I heard the sound of metal hitting flesh, then a click, and a beam of unnatural light flickered to life. 

Callie had found the flashlight Grey had dropped and was shining it on me. I could only tell it was her because she was babbling incoherently, apparently also taken by fear. She collapsed, and pulled her knees to her chest, the flashlight still held shakily in her hands, pointed directly at me. 

“Why are you…” I began to ask, then felt something move in my arms. I looked down to find Grey quaking against me, his body curled into a ball, face pressed against my chest. Small sounds, like an injured animal, were coming from him, and in the shaking light, I could see trails of blood trickling from his eyes. 

He was crying. 

* * *

Something soft was pressed against my face as I slowly came to. I was restrained, and a sudden panic began to take over my mind, until I noticed someone was petting my hair. Opening my eyes, I was met with darkness, but the familiarity of the touch began to crystalize in my mind. Isadora was holding me. 

I was in no hurry to make her let me go, and I realized I was laying against her, my shoulders on her lap, my head resting on her chest like a pillow, and her arm draped across my chest. She was whispering to me, telling me stories it sounded like. Tales of history and facts about the rites and rituals of different cultures. A smile tugged at my lips, realizing she didn’t know what else to do and reverted to just telling me historical facts to have something to say so I’d hear her voice. It was a calming moment, and one I wanted to savor and treasure for as long as I could. 

Unfortunately for me, Diego noticed my eyes beginning to flutter. I heard his voice shatter my bliss like a brick through a plate glass window. 

“He’s waking up,” I heard him say, and a flurry of movement began. Isadora didn’t move, but I heard one form come closer to me, while another seemed to press itself further away. 

“Slow movements, you both,” Isadora’s voice came, louder than it had been when she was speaking to me. I felt the vibrations in her chest and took a deep sense of peace from the simplicity of it. “He’s delicate right now.” 

“Delicate?” Callie’s voice came from further away, high and tight, as if she was on the edge of panicking. “He slaughtered a Garou and seemed to have fun doing it. Then he was going to do the same thing to us!”

“His beast took over,” Diego snapped at her, then I heard him take a deep breath, as though calming himself. Any effect would be psychosomatic, but so long as it worked, who was I to judge?

“He went into a frenzy,” Diego said, his voice calmer, steadier. “Have you seen that happen before?”

There was silence, and I assumed that Callie was responding with some kind of body language. 

“When we frenzy, we go feral,” Diego explained, apparently answering her response in the negative to his question. “The beast takes over completely, and we lean into our baser instincts.”

“Worse yet, his was triggered by drinking Garou blood,” I heard Isadora explain, and then heard Diego groan. “Garou are the living embodiment of rage. And with his preexisting anger issues, the reaction was severe.” 

Oops. 

“Idiota,” I heard Diego say, though there was a softness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. There was a light smack on my face, and I could no longer ignore the need to fully open my eyes. Diego was looking down at me, grinning. “Hey killer, how are you feeling?”

“A lot of pain,” I admitted as I began to sit up with Isadora’s help. I didn’t try to get to my feet just yet, just knowing that was going to be a war all on its own. “What happened?”

“Well…” Diego said, scratching at the back of his head. “That’s kind of hard to explain…”

“You were a tentacle blood monster!” Callie cried out, shining the flashlight in my face, causing me to wince and blink back spots. 

“Okay, not that hard to explain,” Diego said, reaching over and taking the flashlight away from Callie. “Now that we’re all caught up, how the fuck, man?”

Giving him a look of confusion, I just shrugged. 

“No idea,” I said, and I heard Callie scoff behind him. Diego held his hand up at her, then pointed at Isadora. 

“Tell her, not me,” he said. 

Turning around to face Isadora, I looked her right in her eyes, seeing a warmth there that made me pause for just a moment. 

“I don’t know what happened or how I turned into a… tentacle blood monster apparently,” I repeated to her. 

“I believe you,” she said, softly, a sad smile on her lips.

“Good enough for me,” Diego said, getting to his feet. “We’ve got to go.” 

“What do you mean ‘good enough’?” Callie shot back at him, getting to her feet as well. I tried to follow suit, but stumbled slightly. Isadora caught me and helped me to my feet. 

“I mean, we can sit here in this tunnel waiting for more Garou or that wight to catch up to us while we hash out theory after theory about Grey’s freaky power none of us understand,” Diego pointed down the tunnel. “Or we can get to a safe place to hole up for the day because the sun is going to rise in an hour or so, and I doubt any of us have it in us to fight the daysleep.” 

Callie stopped arguing and took up her position behind Diego, somewhat closer now that she seemed terrified of me, and the battle had caused her phone to get bricked by his aura anyway, so there was little point in trying to keep distance. Isadora and I trailed behind slightly, mostly due to my slowed pace. I called out directions to Diego when needed, but otherwise we moved in silence. 

Isadora looked up at me a few times during the walk, seemingly debating something. Finally, after the fifth or sixth time, I leaned down and whispered. 

“What is it?” 

She bit her lip. Knowing she would never lie to me meant that she was wrestling with telling me something potentially dangerous or not telling me and setting us up for greater danger down the road. I understood that tightrope, and let her balance her scales to her satisfaction. Finally, with a defeated sigh, Isadora looked back up at me. 

“I think I know what caused you to take that form,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “When I tied our spirits together… I… felt something.” 

“What did you feel?” I asked her, curious and more than a bit concerned. She chewed her lip nervously, her eyes flicking away from mine, as if terrified to look me in the eye. Drumming up her courage, she looked back, blood tears beginning to trail at the outer corners of her eyes. 

“It was something I’d felt before,” she said, her voice shaking. “It felt almost… almost exactly like the wight.”