Work Text:
The car came to a stop in her driveway but Vera was only vaguely aware that they had ceased moving. They had failed again at trying to restore her magic. Each day without it was growing more unbearable; a terrible gnawing ache that robbed her of her breath. Not since she had lost her daughter had she felt such fathomless agony.
Hamish touched her hand and drew her thousand-yard stare away from the windshield. His thumb stroked over her knuckles.
“We’ll keep trying.” He said softly.
“I know.” She replied simply, her voice as hollow as she felt.
He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. His lips were warm and soft and she could barely stand the gentleness of it. She saw his nostrils flare just slightly and she wondered if he could smell her sorrow as he let her withdraw her hand. He didn’t say anything but offered her a small smile.
“Do you want me to stay?” He asked after a moment of comfortable silence.
Yes.“No, I’ll be fine, Hamish.” She reached for the handle and pulled it, opening the door before she could give in to that weak voice inside of her that wanted him to stay, wanted him to hold her tight, wanted him to drive every thought out of her head but him, “Thank you for the ride.”
“My pleasure.”
Shutting the door with a quiet slam, Vera fished out her keys from her purse and didn’t look back as she unlocked the front door and went inside. She heard the tires as they moved down the driveway and leaned back against the door, sagging against it. Letting her purse fall from her fingertips, she started for the living room, taking in the empty space. Nothing was out of place; her perilous stack of paperback books To Be Read were in the order she left them on the coffee table.
She sunk down onto the couch and slid her feet out of her Louboutin’s. Her bare feet sunk into the plush carpet and she sighed. Wallowing wasn’t going to get her anywhere but at the bottom of a bottle—or two—of whiskey, so she rose, snatched the top book off the pile, and headed for bedroom. A soak in the tub of her bathroom sounded like a good start, then she’d bury herself in the few grimoires they hadn’t poured through yet.
But her plans all changed in a fraction of a heartbeat as her eyes fell on her bed—and the large, amber colored wooden chest that sat in the middle of her bed.
“Oh, fuck.” She whispered, the book falling from her hand, as the trunk opened and a hide emerged.
It hit her square in the chest with enough force it took the breath from her lungs before wrapping itself like a snake around her body. She knew it would either kill her or claim her and the choice wouldn’t be hers.
It had nearly overtaken her, her nose filling with the scent of fur and blood, and she closed her eyes and let her body relax: if she was going to die, she hoped it would be swift, if she was going to lived…
It was a thought she couldn’t entertain. Not yet. In either case, she hoped she’d find a modicum of peace.
“Shit! Vera!”
The familiar voice was surprised and loud. Too loud. Whatever she was laying on was too hard. Too uncomfortable; no give to comfort her aching body.
“Quiet down, Mr. Morton.” The chiding words left her mouth before she could stop herself, annoyance rising.
Vera cracked her eyelids and the instantly closed them. Her eyes hurt. Fuck, her whole body hurt. Everything was too bright and sharp and loud. Her mouth tasted gross and a small groan left her throat when she tried to sit up, finding herself on the hardwood floor of The Den.
Two hands curled around her bare shoulders and…bare shoulders?! Alarm shot through her and her grogginess dissipated. A quick glance down confirmed she was naked. In front of Jack Morton. Fucking fantastic.
“Where are my clothes, Mr. Morton?” She demanded.
“Um.” His hands jolted back as if she had shocked him, a blush coloring his cheeks and tips of his ears, “I was hoping you knew.” He climbed to his feet and wandered into the living room and snatched a robe off the back of the old, faded, out of style couch, “Did you try a new spell or something?”
Jack handed her the robe—Hamish’s—she knew absently as she pulled her arms through the oversized sleeves.
“No.” She answered his question quietly as she climbed to her feet, tying the robe shut.
The boy’s eyes were bright with concern; such a bleeding heart, Jack Morton. It was perhaps one of the more enduring traits he had.
“How did you get here?” Jack asked, “We’ve been looking for you. No one could get a hold of you all morning.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to remember. She remembered Hamish dropping her at home and then…
“Oh shit.” She whispered, her eyes flying open.
“What? What is it? Are you okay?”
“Call the other Knight’s.” She murmured, padding into the living room and bee-lining for the bar.
There came a flurry of clacks sounding from the keyboard of Jack’s phone as she poured herself a generous two fingers of whiskey.
“Are you not going to tell me?” He asked as rounded the bar and slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
“I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” She sighed and took a long drink.
The whiskey was exquisite and vaguely complimented the lingering copper taste in her mouth.
Jack settled onto the couch with a hard plop. “Is there anything I can get for you?—I mean, besides your magic back, obvs. Lil has some extra clothes here, Gabrielle too, there might be something that’ll fit you if you want clothes.”
“I’m fine for now.” She polished off her drink and noticed him watching her with almost unnerving sharpness.
“What is it, Mr. Morton?” She demanded as she poured another glass.
“...it’s just a feeling I have...it’s nothing like I’ve felt before.” He replied softly.
Her body tensed and her grip tightened against the thick glass of the tumbler. “And that is?”
“Like I should welcome you home.”
Vera made a quiet noise before downing the whiskey and putting the glass back down on the bar. “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”
Without another word or waiting for his answer, she pivoted on the ball of her foot and made her way to the upstairs bathroom.
She closed the door behind her with a soft click and braced her hands on the age worn wood. Drawing in a breath, she closed her eyes, trying to gather herself.
Vera turned to face the mirror and studied her reflection. Her eyes looked too wide in her face, her mouth a little redder. Skin almost deathly pale.
“What did you do last night?” She asked quietly, speaking not at the mirror, but to the wolf she knew was bonded under her skin.
Her answer came in a flash of images. Running through the woods, enjoying chasing a doe, a few foxes. A small, surprisingly neatly consumed rabbit for dinner. Which explained the copper taste in her mouth.
“Why me?” She whispered.
This time there were no images, just a feeling. One that surprised her more than anything; kinship.
Before she could dwell on that further, she heard a car out in the driveway. Not just a car but Hamlish’s car, followed quickly by his long running strides. Readying herself, she swiftly exited the bathroom and started down the stairs in time to meet Hamish at the bottom.
“Vera!” The relief in his voice was so palpable her heart wrenched, “What happened?” His blue eyes were clouded with concern.
He took a step forward then seemed to think better of it, his body coming to a stiff pause. Part of her wanted that comfort, but the louder part of her was glad he didn’t.
“Everyone at The Temple were losing their shit.” Gabrielle reported, crossing her arms over her chest, dark eyes rolling.
The news wasn’t all that surprising. Her hand automatically reached for her phone and she rolled her eyes when she remembered it was still in her purse. Which was back at her house.
“Miss Dupres, please let them know I’ll be there in an hour.” Vera told her, giving herself a time frame that she was going to stick by come hell or high water.
“We’re all here, what did you want?” Lilith demanded, frowning.
The girl was a ray of fucking sunshine as always. Vera ignored her and moved into the living room, facing the bay window. She heard the others settle onto the couch as her nerves twisted their way around her heart. Give me the strength. She thought absently.
Already done.Replied the wolf.
She fought the urge to laugh. Apparently, it had a sense of humor.
Alpha; not It.
Chastised, she replied to Alpha. My mistake and apologies.
“Vera?” Hamlish’s voice broke through the inner discussion.
Oh, right. Vera cleared her throat and turned to face them.
“Last night, after Hamish dropped me off, something happened—“
“We really don’t need the details of your sex life.” Randall piped in, dark eyes bright with humor.
“Mr. Carpio.” She sighed, unable to really be annoyed at him. Instead she trudged forward, “There was a chest in my room. A hide locker, to be precise.”
That got everyone’s attention; they all stiffened. Lilith spoke first.
“You gotta be shitting me!” She cried.
“I assure you, Miss Bathory, I am not.” Vera clasped her hands in front of her and lifted her chin, letting the wolf’s power reach her eyes, “Alpha chose me as their champion.”
“What do we know about Alpha?” Jack asked, looking to Hamish.
“Unfortunately, not much. Alpha has been missing in action for a long time.” Hamish answered.
Though their bond, Vera knew that Alpha understood loss, understood that ache that never went away, never quieted. She wondered if that’s what drew the wolf to her.
“Does this mean Vera is our new Alpha?” Gabrielle asked, eyeing her skeptically, “Given the name and all…”
Vera’s eyes flew over to Hamish and raised a brow.
“Regardless of their name, Alpha has been gone from us for decades. I will remain as Alpha of the pack. I’m still the oldest living Knight.” Hamish answered.
Alpha seemed fine with that. Just happy to be amongst the others.
“What does this mean now? For your position in The Order?” Gabrielle asked.
“Nothing there will change. We will continue as usual.” Vera answered, “And no one is to know I’m a Knight outside this room.”
“You’d think that would be a boon to have such a high ranking member as a Knight.” Randall drawled.
“You would think.” Vera sighed, “But that would lead to them finding out I no longer have my magic and that must never happen.”
“You still want your magic?” Randall asked, brows furrowing, “Being a werewolf isn’t enough?”
Vera lifted her shoulder in a shrug. She wasn’t about to spill her guts to him, to them even though they were know bonded through a different brand of magic.
The sound of a cocktail being shook drew her from her thoughts. Hamish was casually pouring out what appeared to be a gimlet.
“Really dude! It’s not even ten!” Gabrielle groaned.
“It’s tradition!” Hamish replied easily, passing out the glasses of booze.
“I don’t think you know what that word means.” Lilith muttered as she accepted her tumbler.
Hamish stopped in front of Vera and she took the glass from his fingers. His eye were bright as he stared down at her, his expression solemn.
“Do you give your life to the cause?” He asked.
“I give my life to the cause.” She answered and a new floodgate of power rushed through her.
The rest of the pack cheered and despite the fact she was certain they hated her most of the time, Vera was shook to her core at the feeling of belonging that wrapped its way around her when she had spoken those words out loud. As the cheering quieted, she could hear the clinking of glasses but Hamish’s tall frame blocked her view.
Not that she was complaining.
He raised his glass to hers and they clinked them together.
“Long is the road, short is the life, Vera Stone, welcome home.” Hamish intoned and inside her, Alpha howled with joy.
Home. A way she never felt with The Order. It was her purpose, her life, but it was not her home. This. This was different and she wanted to embrace it as much as she wanted her magic back.
She raised her glass and took a drink then brought her hand around the back of Hamish’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss.