Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

***

"Lee, do you ever take a break?" Valorie sighed exasperatedly.

Lee scowled, not even looking up from his laptop. "I have three articles to proofread before the ten o'clock deadline and then I have to write a piece on the Dekaros vs. The State trial. No, Valorie, I can't just take a break." 

Valorie folded her arms over her chest, leaning against the door frame in a huff. No rest for the wicked, she supposed, but she couldn't help but worry. This would be the third late night this week that Lee's pulled. He'd work himself to death if he didn't learn when to call it quit.

But Lee was one of the paper's best reporters. Always the first on the scene, and always the first to break headline news, both in print and on their website. He was a hard-working man with a handful of awards under his belt, which currently sat shoved up on a shelf hidden behind unread letters and magazines.

Valorie had worked side-by-side with Lee for over four years, and for all that time, she felt like she barely even knew the guy. Sure, he was a brilliant writer, but that seemed to be all he cared about or ever talked about. Any small talk about personal affairs was met with a hand-wave or a dismissal.

Men. What is with them and their determination to isolate themselves?

She glanced at the clock. Eight pm. Everyone, except the two of them, had long since left for home by now. But here Lee was, burning the midnight oil.

"I'll go put on some coffee," Valorie sighed.

Lee didn't stop working, but she could see a look of gratitude cross his face. "Thank you."

Valorie strolled over to the break room. The paper wasn't a huge operation, probably just over a hundred employees, but they had a dedicated clientele and their website got a commendable amount of traffic. Their office space was modest but their break room had all the essential fixings; tables and chairs, a coffee machine, microwave, a fridge, a vending machine, and a cabinet full of utensils, plates, cups, cleaning supplies, and food packets. She set to work making a fresh pot of coffee, knowing Lee would go through well over half of it by the time he finally finished.

She heard distant footsteps down the hall. Hm, surprise surprise, Lee was up and about. Probably pacing. He liked to pace when he was thinking. But something gave her pause.

That sounded like a lot more than a single set of footsteps.

She peeked out of the break room, just catching sight of a few strange men rounding the corner and making a bee-line for Lee's office. Valorie's heart skipped a beat. She didn't recognize them--who the heck was walking around the office at this hour?!

"Um, excuse me--!" Valorie called out, striding down the hall. This was so stupid. Should she call the police? She didn't have time to react as she heard a sudden commotion. Loud voices erupted from Lee's room, followed by loud crashing and heavy thumps.

Valorie ran faster.

She raced up to Lee's room just in time to see no more than four strange men surrounding Lee, who was currently crumpled up on the floor. Without a word, the men shoved past Valorie, pushing her to the ground with indignant scowls as they stalked away.

"H-hey! HEY!" Valorie screamed after them, picking herself up. She was shaking. "What the hell is your problem?!"

The men didn't respond. They turned the corner and disappeared from view.

Lee groaned, causing Valorie to jump and turn back to him. He was slowly picking himself back up. He was bruised and bloodied, his lip split and bleeding, shirt crumpled up and torn.

"Oh my god, Lee!" Valorie said, rushing to his side. "Are you ok?!"

"I'm fine," Lee said brusquely, trying to push her back. "I'm ok, those punks don't know how to throw a solid punch to save their lives."

Valorie stared. Already Lee's eye was turning black and purple.

"Who were those guys?" Valorie asked.

"Some assholes."

"Well, what did they want?!"

"Dunno."

Valorie was dumbstruck. "What--are you kidding me?! You're just going to tell me that those men waltzed in here and beat you up for no reason?!"

"Seems like it."

Valorie clenched her teeth, tears stinging her eyes. "Lee, this isn't ok! They could have really hurt you! We need--we need to call the police! Or something!"

"No," Lee demanded sharply. "No police. Don't get them involved, they'll only make this worse."

She paused. "Lee . . ." she said slowly. "Are you in trouble?"

He glared darkly at her. "Whatever you're thinking, it's a resounding no . Just--Just leave it, Valorie. Trust me. I'll handle it."

"But--"

"I said I'll handle it!" he snapped. Valorie recoiled, and he paused, a brief look of regret washing over him. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Valorie, please. For your own sake. Don't get involved. I'll take care of them. I promise," he said. "Look, I'll even tell security and get them to put better locks on the doors. But . . . I have work to do. You should get home."

"And just leave you here all alone while those thugs could be still lurking around outside?!"

"I'll walk you to your car, then."

That's not what I was saying at all! But it seemed Lee would not be moved. Men! So stubborn! She was reluctantly escorted to her car, Lee keeping close by her side, eyes up and alert as he scanned the parking lot. No one in sight, thankfully. It seemed the thugs didn't stick around.

Once safely in her car, Lee waved her off. Valorie rolled down her window as her car roared to life.

"Just promise me you're not in any danger," Valorie pleaded. 

"No one will hurt you--or anyone else at the paper. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die," Lee said, drawing an X over his chest.

That's not what I asked, Valorie thought as she drove away, leaving Lee standing alone in the parking lot. He turned and strode inside the building, unbothered, like nothing had even happened.

What in the world had Lee gotten himself involved with?

Chapter Text

"So, your friend, Lee Thriggs, you're worried he might be in some sort of trouble?"

Nathan liked to do his business in their restaurant. The background ambiance muffled any wayward eavesdropper, and the open public space ensured their clients could walk away at any moment. Being in such a space helped put their clients at ease, which was essential in his line of business.

Valorie sat across from him, looking downwards. The poor woman was a bundle of nerves, clearly shaken up by what had transpired just the other night. She was a kind looking individual, early to mid twenties, short blond hair that fell just above her shoulders, clothes and jewelry that were stylish without being flashy. She clutched a cup of coffee in her hands, her thumb running circles on the handle.

"Something like that," Valorie ventured. "Four men came into our building and gave him a beating, and Lee didn't even want me to call the police! He said he'd take care of it. That's not a good thing to hear, right?"

"But you said he told you he wasn't in any trouble?" Eliot clarified. He drew the short straw to be Nathan's "assistant" during this briefing, sitting just to his left at the table.

She huffed. "Well of course he would say that, wouldn't he? But I don't know what sort of trouble he could have gotten himself into."

"Drugs?" Eliot offered, earning an immediate scoff from Valorie.

"Oh, god no," she said. "Lee smokes, yeah, but drugs? No. No way."

Eliot looked to Nathan, who just shrugged. "Well, Valorie, do you have any information on the men who assaulted your coworker? Or any reason why they might go after Lee and not any of the other reporters?"

"I have no idea who those guys were. I tried to get their images from the security cameras but . . ." She trailed off, pulling out her phone. She took pictures of the footage, revealing messy blurs of vaguely humanoid shapes, heads down and impossible to identify.

Not even Hardison could do anything about that.

"Yeah," Valorie winced. "They were being careful enough not to be caught on camera. Well, nothing that could be used to identify them. As for why they would go after Lee? Well, he’s the one writing about that trial going on right now. Dekaros vs. The State. You know of it?"

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, the multi-millionaire CEO who was caught on charges of tampering with medicinal supplies and illegal price gouging. I've seen it on the news."

Eliot repressed a smirk. Little did Valorie know that the ones responsible for Dekaros going to jail for the next twenty years were sitting directly across from her.

"Maybe it's someone on Dekaros's payroll trying to suppress bad press? But that doesn't make sense, does it?" Valorie asked timidly. "Everyone's writing about it."

"No other reports of newspaper writers getting rolled," Eliot interjected. "Just Lee."

"He's written controversial stuff in the past. He got himself some nice awards for that. He was an investigative journalist before coming to the paper. You know, throwing himself into the thick of wars and conflicts and political revolutions. And he was really good at it! But from what I can gather, it--it wasn't a pleasant experience for him. He never talks about his time doing that."

Nathan once again referenced the picture of Lee Valorie had given him. Lee had a hardened, weathered look about him. Black messy hair surrounded a cold, stern face. Everything about the man's features were sharp; sharp chin, sharp cheekbones, a sharp nose with a crook in it (likely broken at least twice) and hard steely eyes. Most notably of all was the scar running over his left eye, which was gray and dead and sightless.

He definitely looked like a man who had been to Hell and lived to tell the tale. Which Nathan was certain was exactly what happened.

"But that was years ago. I can't think of anything that happened recently that would get Lee targeted, of all people," Valorie went on. "Yeah, a lot of people think he's a jerk, and he can be abrasive, but that's hardly any reason to get beat up!"

"It could be any number of things, he could have crossed someone without even knowing," Nathan said. "There’s still a lot we don’t know, but we’ll try to do our best with what we have. Well, Valorie, thank you very much for your time. We'll look into it, try to scope out your office to see if these thugs come back, but I'm afraid we don't have much to go on. I can't promise anything, especially if Lee isn't cooperating."

"I understand," Valorie said, deflating. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Nathan assured, putting a hand on Valorie's. "Lee is a lucky man that he has a friend like you looking out for him."

Valorie smiled softly, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

"Now take care of yourself. And however tempted you are, please don't get involved. I can at least give credit to Lee for that bit of advice. I don't want you getting caught in any crossfire," Nathan warned.

"I know. And if I see anything else, I'll let you know, alright?"

"Please do."

She stood, shook Nathan's hand, and Valorie strode out of the restaurant. Nathan and Eliot stood as well, but turned into the restaurant, going to the back and retreating upstairs to their own office, located on the second floor of their cozy little bar and grill.

"So, Eliot, thoughts?" Nathan asked, passing over the picture.

Eliot took it, studying it for a second. "This guy's definitely seen some action," he muttered. "And you know activists, they're prime targets for powerful people who want things kept quiet."

"He's a writer, not an activist."

Eliot scoffed. "If he was just a writer looking to make a nice paycheck, he'd stay in the States all nice and cozy writing celebrity gossip pieces. You know how lucrative that is, writing about all that nonsense about oh, who's dating who, who's getting married, who's getting divorced, who got caught with their pants around their ankles at the latest beach party?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "And you know this, how--?"

"Blame Sophie and all the crap magazines she keeps bringing into the office," Eliot scowled, slapping the picture back to Nathan's chest. "Point is, he threw himself into active warzones to write about things that mattered. Someone that crazy and that determined to seek out the truth is a dangerous man to a lot of people. I can think of plenty who might want him gone."

"But he hasn't done that for years, why now? The papers are already written, it's already out there, what good would beating up Lee now do?"

Eliot gave Nathan a dark and foreboding look. "For some people, revenge is all the motivation you need.”

They entered the upstairs space which currently served as their base of operation, with a massive TV hooked up to the right wall and a kitchen to the left. Hardison sat at the couch in front of the TV, typing away at a laptop as he watched the news. The trial was currently playing, with news anchors discussing the latest developments straight from the court house. Sophie was in the kitchen, fetching a snack. She greeted them with a wave.

"So how'd it go?" she asked, circling around the counter to pass Nathan a drink.

"Information about our assailants is practically nonexistent, we don't have any good security footage to go on," Nathan said, muttering a quick 'thanks' as he took the drink from Sophie. "And we don't even have a proper motivation."

"I'll say," Hardison spoke up from the couch. "I hacked into the newspaper's video surveillance system--"

"Why did you hack--?" Nathan started, but stopped himself, shaking his head. "Of course you hacked the cameras."

"Damn right I did. I mean, look at this dinosaur they're using for security! It's a disgrace!" Hardison said, jabbing at his laptop with furious indignation. Nathan peered over Hardison's shoulder to watch the laptop screen. It was playing footage of last night at a staggering one frame every two seconds and at a quality of perhaps ten pixels.

"Man, Bigfoot could walk down these halls and no one would even know," Hardison complained. "Outside is just as bad. I can't even see the guys leaving the building. I mean, come on, man, what is this, the Dark Ages?! My ten year old cell phone had better cameras than this!"

"Alright, then we do this old school," Nathan said, not one to be deterred by crappy technology. "We'll do a stake-out and tail Lee to see if he has any more unwelcome visitors."

"Maybe it's not my place to say, but are we sure this is, you know, legit?" Hardison asked. "I mean, we have no names, no faces, no motivation--who's to say this guy didn't get involved with a gang, or drugs, or any other sort of illicit stuff?"

"Valorie seemed pretty certain Lee's not doing any drugs, at the very least," Eliot pointed out.

"Still doesn't rule out if he's part of some underground gambling ring. Or a fighting pit. Or aliens."

"It's not goddamned aliens," Eliot growled.

Nathan paused, looking around the room. "Hey, where's Parker?"

Right on cue, Parker dropped from the ceiling, hanging upside down so she was face to face with Nathan. Eliot flinched.

"Jesus! Where did you come from?!"

"The ceiling. Duh," Parker said, rolling her eyes. "I'm testing out my newest indoor rigging system. Not a concern if there's nice narrow halls I can brace against, but there's not a lot of those in the big office spaces we usually infiltrate."

"Yeah, I noticed," Nathan said, staring at the contraption Parker had jerry-rigged to hang from the ceiling. "Just as long as you're not compromising the structural integrity of all that nice flimsy plywood ceilings are made of."

"Are you questioning my knowledge of American architectural structural integrity?" Parker challenged as she lowered herself back to the floor with an acrobatic flip. "I like flimsy ceilings, it makes it easy to carve holes into. I can be in and out in twenty seconds, tops."

"There is something wrong with you," Eliot glowered.

"Alright, let's focus up, children," Nathan said in a stern voice. "Eliot, I want you to hang around the newspaper office, see if any more strange characters show their face. Hardison, see if you can find any potential motivations. Read through Mr. Lee Thrigg's articles, see if he has any enemies."

"On it," both Hardison and Eliot said, splitting off.

Parker hopped up to Nathan, an eager manic energy emanating from her. "Want me to break into his house and scour the place for any incriminating evidence?" she asked excitedly, holding up a battery-powered reciprocating saw.

"Where did that even come from-- No, Parker, you go with Sophie." Parker pouted. "Sophie? See if you can chat up our friend Lee. Find out what you can."

"I'll do my best," Sophie grinned. "Come on, Parker, this'll be fun. It'll be a nice little girl's day out."

Parker continued to pout like a little kid. "I hate girl's day," she said, shoving the saw away.

****

The best part of Lee’s job was when he could work completely undisturbed. All he would need to do was simply shut his office door and be a practical ghost. But unfortunately, the paper being on the smaller side, his coworkers had the annoying habit of barging in for menial “small talk” and “banter” or whatever trite they insisted on doing to build rapport.

And unfortunately even further, today was a day Lee especially wished to be left alone, as he was sporting a rather nasty black eye. The son of a bitch got lucky and managed to land one solid blow and it left a mark Lee couldn’t easily hide.

Coming up with a cover story proved to be trickier than he anticipated because everyone refused to leave it alone. They just had to keep asking their damn questions!

“Oh, God, Lee, your eye! What happened?!” Debbie from the front desk asked.

“Moving furniture. Wasn’t paying attention and smacked myself with a dresser,” Lee said with a thin smile.

“Are you ok?! That looks serious! Are you sure you didn’t break something?” James from marketing asked.

“No, nothing broken. Just a bruised eye. And a bruised ego,” Lee said, attempting a half-assed joke that actually got a chuckle or two. Now please leave me alone.

“You know, a friend of mine–actually a friend of a friend–he got hit by a pop fly ball in a baseball game, just wham! Smacked him right in the face! His whole eye was swollen shut and it didn’t go away for a full month! Nearly lost his eye!” Barry from accounting said, slapping Lee on the shoulder. Lee grimaced. “You’re lucky! Can you imagine! Losing a whole eye–!”

“No, really, I can’t imagine what it might be like to lose an eye, it must be terrible,” Lee seethed sarcastically, turning his head so Barry got a nice long look at his blind eye. 

That at least got him to shut up and shuffle away with a mumbled “Sorry.” And Lee took the opportunity to stalk back to his office, away from his well-meaning but overbearing coworkers.

As he put his hand on the door, he stopped. He tilted his head.

Someone was already inside.

He opened the door, stepped in, and to the right, sitting in a visitor’s chair on the other side of his desk, was a woman. Beautiful by all aesthetic measures with raven hair and ruby red lips, dressed in a smart business suit with shoes that probably cost more than the fancy jewelry she wore, she was a sight for sore eyes. If Lee had any interest at all in that sort of thing, that is. 

But more to the point, the woman gave a small start, as if not anticipating Lee to notice her right away.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a tone that clearly communicated he was running out of patience and the only thing keeping him from kicking her out of his office was common professional courtesy.

The woman stood, offering a sly smile. “Coworkers. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them, eh?” she asked, an unmistakable English accent in her voice. “But allow me to introduce myself. Colleen Weiss, I worked for a small paper back over in London. Just moved to the States a few months ago and was looking for somewhere to put down new roots.”

“We’re not hiring,” Lee said, circling around to sit himself at his desk. “And I’m not even the right person to talk to, I have no hand in the hiring process.” He paused, glaring at her. “And who even let you in here?”

“Oh, I’m not here for employment,” ‘Colleen’ said, conveniently ignoring his question. She sat on the edge of his desk, and Lee leaned away, his eyes narrowing further. “I’m here to see how you Yanks write a story. And you, Mr. Thriggs, look like you have quite the stories to tell!”

He kept glaring at her, and Sophie could feel herself begin to lose control of the situation.

This guy could give Eliot a run for his money for ‘World’s Angriest Scowl,’ Sophie thought to herself. But who was she kidding, she had no control over this whole thing from the start! She was completely thrown off her game the second Lee walked through that door and stared right through her.

She would have been impressed if she wasn’t also incredibly frustrated. But she handled tougher marks; all she needed to do was remain calm and composed.

“I’m looking to learn from the best this city has to offer,” Sophie continued, turning up the charm. A coy smile, a flick of the hair, a seductive tilt of the head, and she’d have any man wrapped around her finger–

Lee hardly twitched.

Tough customer.

“And I can’t learn from just anyone,” she continued. “I need a man with a real sense of danger. Someone who has seen the very worst the world has to offer and say ‘Yes, more of that, please.’ And you, Mr. Thriggs, seem to have already attracted your fair share of danger.” She gazed pointedly at his black eye.

Lee scoffed. “Just banged myself up in an accident. Nothing dangerous about that.”

“Oh, we needn’t be coy,” she said, taking a stand. “I know a mean right hook when I see one.” Eliot was able to clock the injury with laser precision at a mere glance, and the subtle twitch in Lee’s face indicated she–and Eliot–were spot on. “You are attracting all sorts of attention. Now why would that be?”

“Sometimes people don’t need a good reason. Maybe some people just have fun picking on those they think are weaker than them,” Lee said. Although he kept his voice low and level, there was an unmistakable note of anger and impatience. Sophie knew she had to proceed very carefully unless she wanted Lee to throw her out before she could even set the hook.

“But that’s the problem,” she countered. “You hardly look like a weak man. And your repertoire can speak of that tenfold.”

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

“I’m an admirer of a good reporter doing good work,” she said, tilting her chin up with an air of confidence. She felt like she had found her footing again. “And a good reporter doing good work inevitably makes enemies.”

Lee remained inscrutable. Sophie looked for any sort of tell: averted gaze, a twitch of the lips, a gulp of breath, anything, but Lee remained still. 

“You’ve got me all wrong. I think you’re letting my . . . reputation paint me in a much more exciting light than I really am,” Lee said.

“There’s no need to be so modest,” Sophie said. “That reputation was well-earned.”

“And I have no intention of that reputation interfering with my current work,” Lee said firmly. “So if that’s all, Ms. Weiss–”

“I want to know what drives a man like you, Mr. Thriggs,” Sophie said, daring a step towards him. She could almost see him lean away from her, the disinterest clear as day on his face. She needed to readjust her strategy. “I want to know how you do what you do, why you do it. I want to know the real you.”

Lee looked at her with that piercing, icy glare that seemed to strike right through her, making a cold shiver run up her spine. He shook his head.

“No, Ms. Weiss, I don’t think you do.”

And just like that . . . she was staring at the entrance doors of the newspaper, practically kicked out like she was some sort of vagabond.

Sophie gasped, scandalized. The audacity!

Nathan’s voice came over her earpiece. “Sophie, what’s going on?”

“Mr. Lee Thriggs is the most abrasive, most impolite, rudest pig-headed excuse for a man I have ever met!” Sophie fumed, storming away in a huff. “That man was a brick wall! I couldn’t crack him!”

“Oh no, a man you couldn’t woo with wits and good looks alone, whatever will we do?” Eliot snarked over the coms. He had taken up a strategic vantage point across the street, sitting at a cafe’s outdoor table and enjoying an unexpectedly delicious cup of coffee. He had a newspaper in his hands, pretending to read while he kept surveillance on the newspaper’s office for any recurrence of the thugs.

“I can work with men who aren’t interested, but this was something else entirely,” Sophie said. “He might as well have been Fort Knox with how well he was guarded.”

“I broke into Fort Knox,” Parker piped up. “Didn’t live up to the hype. I was rather disappointed, honestly.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Eliot sighed.

“Eliot, how long have we been working together? You should know better,” Hardison chided.

“Keep focus, this was only cursory gleaning, we still have plenty of other routes to pursue,” Nathan said, finally speaking up to cut the chatter over their coms. “So what if Lee plays things close to the vest, there’s other ways to make him talk. Hardison, how goes your own search? Any lead on potential enemies?”

“Oh, man, where do I even start?” Hardison said. He was back at home base, chugging away at his computer with all five of his screens opened up to various news articles and government databases. “I think a better question is, ‘which world-infamous criminal has this guy not written about?’ I’ve got articles on him busting up high-ranking members of the Mexican Cartel, the Russian mob, the Chinese triad, the Italian mafia–did you know he spent three years in Brazil writing all about the political corruption going on down there and almost single-handedly kept a fascist tyrant from stealing the general election? And don’t get me started on his journalism tour of Afghanistan–!”

“So long story short, this guy has a list of enemies a mile long,” Nathan said. “Kinda makes me wonder how no one’s gotten to him sooner, honestly.”

“If it could be anyone, how are we supposed to narrow it down?” Eliot asked.

“Well, we keep doing what we do, and that’s keep digging. There’s gotta be a crack somewhere. We’ll find it,” Nathan said.

Eliot let out a frustrated huff. This was always the part of the job that was the most tedious. Sitting and watching and waiting for things to happen. He understood well enough the strategy of thorough surveillance and intensive research, but it didn’t make it any less boring.

Nothing to do but sit back and keep watch. At least it was a nice day. Perfect for sitting outside the cafe and drinking some nice coffee. Could be a hell of a lot worse.

So imagine his surprise when he saw none other than Lee himself exit the building, cross the street, and make a bee-line straight for the cafe.

Eliot straightened in his chair. “Incoming. Lee’s heading over to the cafe,” Eliot reported.

“Ok, ok, this is good, this is another chance to get some information,” Sophie said in a rushed voice. “Eliot, just follow my lead–”

“Your last interrogation didn’t work so how about you let me try it my way this time?” Eliot said. 

“Oh, and what’s your way? Punching him in the face until he reveals all his little secrets?” Sophie retorted. 

“How about a little faith, huh? Is that so much to ask?” Eliot growled.

Lee had a dour look on his face, brushing right past the scattered patrons and heading inside. Eliot waited a few seconds, then stood, folded his newspaper under his arm, and followed Lee.

The cafe was fairly busy, with a few people in line and most indoor and outdoor tables taken. Lee, despite his clear frustration and annoyance, waited patiently and greeted the barista with a quick smile and a polite “How are you?”

“Lee! Here for your lunch break? Would you like the usual?” the barista asked.

Lee nodded. “Please. And make the espresso a double, would you?”

“Coming right up!”

“Thank you.”

So Lee’s a regular at this cafe. Made perfect sense; it was quick and convenient. Perfect for someone who lived on coffee, as Lee clearly did. In a few short minutes, Lee’s order was ready; a cup of piping hot coffee and a club sandwich, which Lee took with a “thanks" and a few dollar bills stuffed in the tip jar. 

Eliot’s turn to order came up and he just ordered another refill on his coffee. A quick scan revealed Lee had taken Eliot’s (now empty) table outside. And another quick scan showed tables were few and far between as this was apparently a hot spot for people to grab a quick drink and a snack.

Perfect.

Eliot sipped his coffee, pretending to look around for a place to sit. Lee was at the table directly to Eliot’s left, already sitting and drinking his own coffee. Eliot flashed the man an apologetic smile and gestured to the table.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry, do you mind if I take a seat here real quick?” Eliot asked, gesturing to a chair at the table.

Lee looked up. Although not exactly pleased his lunch was being disturbed, he just shrugged.

“It’s a free country,” he said, which Eliot took as a polite yet thinly-veiled way of saying “If you absolutely must but I don’t approve.”

“Thanks,” Eliot said. He sat down, scooting his chair a comfortable distance away from Lee, and turned his attention back to the paper. He unfurled it and read in silence, not so much as glancing in Lee’s direction.

“Eliot, now’s your chance!” Sophie urged in his ear. “Strike up a friendly conversation! Talk to the man!”

“Just wait,” Eliot hissed in a low voice.

“What?” Lee asked.

“What?” Eliot repeated, caught off guard. Did Lee hear him–? Shit, he thought he was being quiet. “Oh, uh, sorry, it’s nothing. Just reading the paper, is all.”

Lee nodded, and Eliot could see a brief look of approval cross his face. “Not a lot of people actually read physical papers anymore. It’s all on their phones, for better or worse.”

“Yeah, but that gives me eye strain,” Eliot said. “Besides, there’s nothing like reading something on real paper, whether that’s a book, or the news, or whatever, right?”

Lee smiled a bit more. “Right.”

Eliot, seeing that Lee had begun to slowly warm up to him, decided to push forward. “I’m Eliot,” he extended his hand.

“Lee Thriggs. Nice to meet you,” he replied, returning the gesture with a firm handshake. 

“Lee . . . Lee Thriggs?” Eliot repeated, feigning surprise. He twisted around the paper to reveal he was reading one of Lee’s articles. “The same Lee Thriggs that writes for the paper?”

“Sharp man. One and the same,” he said. He turned his head away, staring back out to watch the pedestrians walk by. “But if you’re going to ask, then don’t bother.”

Eliot shook his head, confused. “Ask about what?”

Lee turned back around, baffled. “Ask about . . . what everyone inevitably asks about.” He made a subtle gesture to the rather nasty scar over his eye.

Eliot full well knew that was what Lee had been referring to, but he just shrugged and shook his head. “That’s none of my business, is it?” He turned his attention back to his paper, reading and sipping his coffee in a comfortable, contented silence. But with that simple exchange alone, Eliot knew that he had garnered a bit more of Lee’s trust.

“Besides, I won’t ask if you won’t ask,” Eliot added with a smirk.

“About what?” Lee asked curiously.

Eliot gestured to the faint scar above his lip. “I know you’re just dying of curiosity to know what happened,” he said with a friendly note of sarcastic banter, and even Lee laughed at it. Eliot’s own scars were many, but were small and discreet enough to go mostly unnoticed.

“But I suppose I could indulge your curiosity,” Eliot went on, making a big show of rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically. “Biking accident. I was eight years old and learning to ride for the very first time. My mom drilled into my head that I was to never ride without a helmet, but I was a little shithead of a kid, you know, and I hated wearing my helmet, so whenever I was out of her sight I’d rip it off,” he laughed. Lee smirked. 

“And then one day I was riding and hit a patch of gravel and wham! Face-planted right onto the ground. I busted my lip and knocked out a tooth. I was crying my eyes out, and then my mom runs up and she’s screaming bloody murder! I thought she was gonna rip my head off! She drove me to the hospital, and I’m just gushing blood all over my shirt. Ended up getting six stitches.”

Lee laughed along, giving Eliot a sympathetic wince. “You could put that story on a poster for safe biking practices,” he joked.

“Hey, I learned my lesson, didn’t I? Never biked without a helmet again,” Eliot went on. “Especially not on a motorcycle.”

“You ride?”

“Eh, sometimes. I’ve got a nice Yamaha I got second-hand from a guy who thought it’d be fun but it was too big for him to handle. He dumped the bike once, got spooked, and sold it to me for real cheap.”

Lee nodded along, making appropriate expressions of approval here and there. He wasn’t talking much himself, but that was ok. Eliot could get a sense of what would get the guy talking a little bit more.

Eliot pointed back over to the newspaper building. “You enjoy it?”

“Writing?” Lee clarified. He laughed. “Yeah. It’s a good gig. Well-paying. And I get to do what I like.”

“Hey, good for you,” Eliot said. “Not a lot of people get to do that.”

Lee nodded in agreement. “It’s a tough job, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” He leaned back in his own seat, turning more towards Eliot, and Eliot leaned in. “You know, my own mother had her own piece of advice for me. She told me everyone has a talent to share with the world, and that everyone has somewhere they fit. Some people find that place, but a lot of people don’t. And some people force themselves into places thinking that’s where they’re supposed to go, and they miss out on where they really belong.”

Eliot nodded, listening intently. “Do you believe that?”

Lee paused, thinking. “I think she had the right idea,” he conceded. “There’s too many people who change themselves to fit in, or they just settle. Or they’re forced into somewhere they’ll be miserable and discontent for the rest of their lives. There's a quote from a scientist named Stephen Jay Gould. He said, ‘I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein's brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.’ And I think about that quote a lot. I think about all the brilliant people who could have done something great if they had the chance.”

“And I can’t help but think about all the bad people that got one too many chances and did something terrible with that,” Eliot added grimly.

“That’s exactly it. That’s exactly it.” Lee said with an eager, excited note in his voice, pointing a finger at Eliot. “I always wondered in the past if I ever found my place, found my fit, when I realized I am in a very unique position to give people who deserve it a second chance, and take it away from people who do not. Took me a while to find it, but . . . here I am.”

 Eliot continued to nod, dipping his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I understand exactly what you’re talking about. Because I think I found my place, too.”

“And what is your place, Eliot?”

“I help people that others can’t. And, like you, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

A smile crossed Lee’s face, a real, genuine smile. He finished his lunch, packed up his things, and stood. “I have to get back to the office. It was nice talking to you. Maybe I’ll run into you again soon?”

“Maybe,” Eliot shrugged. “You take care.”

“You too.” Lee strode away, crossing the street and disappearing back inside his office.

Sophie and Nate had been listening in, and Sophie was incredulous.

“Eliot, that was–-that was amazing,” she said, completely awestruck. “I picked the perfect persona to get to Lee and you broke through like it was nothing! How’d you do it?”

“That’s exactly how,” Eliot remarked. “Because I wasn’t acting.”

“But acting is what I do!”

“Some people know a mask when they see one. All I had to do was be honest with the guy,” Eliot retorted. But he had to admit, he was feeling pretty smug about beating Sophie at her own game.

“It was excellent work, Eliot, it’s just a shame it didn’t reveal much of Lee’s past or potential enemies. Parker, where are you right now?” Nathan asked.

“At Lee’s house. Going through his stuff. Trying to find any incriminating evidence,” Parker said. She was currently at his dresser, flipping through some scattered papers. “Got to say, for someone who’s had such an exciting investigative career, this guy’s home life is depressingly boring.”

“Parker, I thought you were with Sophie?” Nate asked. “And Lee’s not our mark, why are you breaking into his house?”

“Because if he won’t talk, his stuff will,” Parker said, being careful to put everything right back where she found it. “But even his stuff is just as much as a brick wall. Ugh , if I only had some C4 . . .”

“Why do you want to blow up his house?!” Eliot asked.

“That was a metaphor!” Parker hissed. “I was trying to do a thing! I mean, you guys are always saying cryptic stuff like that!”

“Don’t worry, I understood just fine,” Sophie said smoothly.

“So . . . nothing? Nothing that catches your eye?” Nathan clarified.

“I mean, he has a cool rock collection,” Parker tried to sound optimistic, but the disappointment in her voice was hard to miss. “But it’s feldspar and hecatolite. Hardly anything valuable. Other than that, it’s just the usual boring people stuff. Even his watches are boring. They’re all leather and stainless steel.”

“Hey, leather’s classy,” Eliot said. “And silver tarnishes.”

“Tarnishes?! You let your silver tarnish?! No one knows how to take care of silver these days,” Parker bemoaned.

“Any invoices? Planners? Calendar dates?” Nathan suggested.

“Yeah, I got electric bills, utility bills, mortgage bills . . .” Parker rattled off, flipping through whatever she could find laying around. Putting those away, she scoped out the kitchen which opened up to a small sitting area and family room. “No planner, but I see a calendar . . . wait, some dates are marked,” she said, noticing one day was circled with a Sharpie.

“Which dates?”

“Well, last one was about three weeks ago, next one is in a week,” Parker said. She flipped through the previous month. “But only one day a month–”

“Same day?”

“I mean, roughly, within a day or two,” Parker said. “The 30th, the 29th–ooh, this month has two dates, one on the 2nd and one on the 31st.”

Nathan went through a mental checklist of anything that could potentially be a once-a-month occurrence. “Maybe a club, or a meet-up group, or a doctor's appointment? Hardison, anything medical that might allude to?”

Hardison took a minute or two to type his way into Lee’s medical history. “Nah, nothing chronic, or anything that would necessitate a regular check-up like that. Actually, now that I look at this, this guy hasn’t been to the doctor in years. Not since . . . well–”

“Well what?” Nathan pressed.

“Since he got back from Afghanistan with his left eye gone completely blind,” Hardison said in a slow, careful voice. He thought for a moment before he did some more typing. “He was over there–oh. Oh damn.”

“What?”

“He was investigating the whole war conflict and was taken hostage by a few jihadists,” Hardison read, scanning over what were likely highly classified government documents. “The US Embassy was negotiating his release for over four months when he just . . . walked right up to a US military base one day. Documents say he was delirious with heat exhaustion and severe dehydration and was beaten to hell and back, the most significant injury was his eye. Lee claims he can’t remember how he escaped, or if he was just released into the desert to die of thirst, and he just got lucky finding that base.”

“An incident like that, that’s gotta be traumatizing,” Eliot said. “Could be a support group?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see any note cards, or business cards, or . . . anything,” Parker said. 

It wasn’t that Lee was neat and left absolutely no clutter. Quite the opposite, in fact; his house was a mess. Peak bachelor living quarters with ripped opened letters piled high on a counter and dishes stacked in the sink and a trash can overflowing with instant microwave meals. Out of curiosity, Parker opened the fridge.

Huh, the guy had an impressive stock of meat. 

“I guess Lee really likes his steak dinners,” Parker mused to herself, shutting the fridge back closed and taking one last scope around Lee’s apartment, even cracking open the pantry and rummaging through canned soup and a jar of peanut butter and a half-empty box of cereal. “Hey, that’s weird . . .”

“I wish you guys would stop leaving your sentences off like that, please finish your thoughts,” Nathan said.

Parker rolled her eyes as she took out a mason jar of dried plants, taped with a hand-written label. “Does anyone know what Aconitum is?”

Sophie felt herself jerk, her eyes widening in recognition. “Yes, that’s a flower known as monkshood, why?”

“Lee has a whole jar of it stuffed in his pantry,” Parker said.

“Wha– why?! Why would he have a jar of highly poisonous plants in his pantry?!” Sophie cried in shock.

“Poisonous?” Eliot repeated.

“Yes! Poisonous! And very much so!” Sophie elaborated. “It contains a substantial amount of aconitine, which can cause heart and respiratory failure! Even just touching the stuff can make you sick! That is not a plant to be trifled with!”

Parker’s eyes widened in glee. “I knew it! Lee’s an assassin! And he uses poisons! Oh, that’s so hardcore!” 

“No, no , Lee is not an assassin,” Nathan quickly interjected. “Lee’s a reputable man and an esteemed reporter, he’s not moonlighting as some ruthless killer.” But he had to admit, even he struggled for a reason why Lee would have such a plant hidden away in his apartment. 

“It’s the perfect cover story!” Parker said gleefully.

“Sophie, what else do you know about this plant? Any other reason that he might have it?”

“It can be used as a herbal medicine, but the plant is rare and the results of such medicine are dubious at best,” Sophie said. “Lee must have gone to some lengths to secure it. I have no idea why anyone would want to have a jar of it in their house. That doesn’t involve poisoning, that is.”

Nathan frowned, and he began to pace around their base of operation. “None of this is adding up . . . we’re missing something . . .”

“Maybe he really is running drugs. And this flower he’s planning to use for some sort of experimental narcotic,” Hardison speculated. “I mean, poison is just a natural chemical reaction, a little tweak here and there and you can make it do all sorts of things.”

“We need to know more,” Nathan decided. “Keep digging. Parker, once you’ve cleaned house, set one camera in each of the main rooms. If this guy really is running drugs, we need to confirm that before we get in over our heads.”

“Got it,” Parker said, putting the jar back in the pantry and closing the door. With her were small remote cameras she could stick on the walls, choosing hidden spots with the best vantage available. Once she was sure she left no trace, she slipped out of the building as stealthily as she entered.

“Eliot, still no movement at the office from Lee’s visitors?”

“No.” Eliot frowned, peering over his paper. “I really don’t think this guy is running drugs. I mean, you heard the same conversation I did, right? And Valorie was absolutely convinced Lee wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Yeah, well, people are wrong sometimes,” Nathan said. “How’s that age-old saying go? ‘You can never truly know someone?’”

“And given the warm reception I was given, it’s not a stretch of the imagination to say Valorie has no idea who Lee really is,” Sophie said. “And who’s to say Lee can’t put on his own act to deflect suspicion?”

The business day eventually drew to a close with no further activity. Eliot waited for Lee to exit the building and drive home, following him at a safe and inconspicuous distance. He pulled over just long enough to see Lee park his car and step inside his apartment before driving off.

“He just got home. Hardison, you’re on,” Eliot said.

“Way ahead of you.” Back at home base, Hardison booted up his laptop and activated the hidden cameras. Five TV screens sprang to life with live video feed from Lee’s home. Two in the adjoining kitchen/family room, one in the guest bedroom converted into a very cluttered office space, and one in the master bedroom. Hardison watched Lee step inside, the fatigue and exasperation from a long day of work clear as day as Lee threw down his coat and bag with a heavy sigh.

Lee stepped into the kitchen-–then stopped dead. He turned very slowly around the room, scanning, his head tilted ever so slightly upwards.

Hardison paused, caught off guard from Lee’s reaction. “Uh, guys, I think we have a problem . . .”

Nathan was standing behind Hardison, watching along with him. “He knows something’s wrong.”

“What?! No way!” Parker protested furiously. “I left everything exactly where I found it! Leave no trace! That’s Thieving 101!”

After scanning the room, Lee went right to the pantry, ripping the door open and reaching way into the back and pulling out the mason jar of dried flowers. He pulled it close, inspected it carefully, before shoving it back onto the shelves. He slammed the door, spinning around.

There was a wild, frantic, furious look on Lee’s face as he scanned the room once more before taking off to his bedroom, scanning it with an equally critical eye. He picked through the rock collection displayed on a shelf before turning to the papers Parker rifled through only hours earlier, flipping through them, throwing them down, tearing through everything one by one, clearly searching for anything missing or out of place. 

Hardison could see Lee muttering to himself, and he boosted the sound sensitivity on the camera mics.

“Yeah, fuck you, too, Laragan, fuck you and your psychological warfare bullshit. You’re really so desperate, huh? I gave you my answer and it’s a big fat fucking NO.”

“Laragan. That’s good, we got a name,” Nathan said.

Hardison did a double-take, dumbfounded. “Good? Good?! This guy sussed out within five seconds of getting home that we were there! I mean-–how?! How?! His home security was a generic Wal-Mart knock-off I could have hacked from a typewriter and we all know Parker does not make mistakes. Not mistakes that can blow her cover that fast!”

Parker was staring at the TVs. She looked completely shell-shocked. “I’ve stolen diamonds from the most secure vaults in the world without anyone knowing. But this guy knows I rifled through his bank statements within two seconds?!” She shook her head. “No, Nathan. I don’t like this. He’s gotta be involved in something big and bad, there's no way he should know–”

“Not to mention what he just said!” Hardison said. “This–this Laragan guy is desperate. Desperate for what? And desperate enough to send goons to beat him up? And what was the first thing Lee checked?!”

“The flowers . . .” Nathan said slowly.

“Nah, nah man, this stinks. This stinks of something bad. I’m tapping out,” Hardison said, throwing up his hands. “We help innocent people, right? And everything I’m seeing so far is not looking so good for Mr. Lee Thriggs right here!”

“Yeah, because an ex-investigative journalist who spent a vast majority of his career uncovering corruption, scandals, government conspiracies, and catching notorious gang members just suddenly comes back to the States to run drugs, yeah, that makes sense,” Eliot seethed furiously over the coms as he drove back to base. “Yeah no shit the guy is paranoid as hell! After the literal warzones he witnessed and reported on?! Have any of you thought that maybe those herbal remedies Sophie mentioned before might help treat PTSD?”

Hardison paused. “Does–does monkshood help treat PTSD?”

Sophie sighed, bracing a hand to her forehead. “I mean . . . I don’t know any of the specifics, but . . . if it causes respiratory paralysis . . . I mean, theoretically, it could help slow down his heart and breathing if he were having a panic attack . . .”

“That’s way too much speculation,” Hardison said.

“Then let’s find some more facts. Hardison, let’s find out who Laragan is,” Nathan said. He still kept watching the video feed from Lee’s house. Lee had stormed all over his apartment, looking everywhere, but after finding nothing, he elected to pace angrily like some sort of caged animal.

Hardison let out a loud exhale as he dedicated one of the screens for a quick web search. The name brought up a few hits, and narrowing it down to all in the general vicinity, he found one promising hit. He pulled up a mugshot from a state prison revealing a man in his forties, with a very square face and short cropped hair, narrow dark eyes and a perpetual scowl behind a five o’clock shadow. He was built, with broad shoulders and an imposing physique. A few more quick searches brought up his employment history.

“Ok, let’s see here . . . Don Laragan, 42 year old male, was arrested six years ago after a bar fight broke out, went to jail for less than a month before he got bailed out,” Hardison read. “But, you know, from the incident report, sounds like Don wasn’t the instigator, he just finished it and put the other guy in the hospital for a good long while–”

“Anything else?” Nathan asked.

Hardison scanned some more documents, slowly shaking his head. “Nah, that’s it. Other than that, he’s got a pretty clean record. He’s the co-founder of Laragan and Farnery Surveying, which is located just over the state line, he’s head of operation, runs a . . . shockingly above board business,” Hardison said with a note of surprise, eyebrows furrowing. “Huh, the company checks out. Nothing shady, all their financials are clear, running in the green . . . it’s weird to see an actual reputable operation considering our line of work.”

Nathan paused. “You sure that’s our Laragan guy?”

“The only other Laragans are a ninety-year old grannie living just outside of town and a quaint little family of three living on the southside. Yeah, real suspect,” Hardison said sarcastically. “This is the only Laragan in a hundred mile radius that could make Lee that skittish.”

“Fair enough.”

“Wait, something’s happening,” Sophie said, pointing to the TV.

Nathan and Hardison turned their attention back to the video feed just in time to see Lee pull out a phone and make a call. Acting fast, Hardison cranked the mic sensitivity as high as it would go to catch Lee’s every word.

“I’m sick of playing your stupid games, Laragan,” Lee said. “Let’s settle this. Tomorrow night. Six. Behind my office. So I can show you what I think of you and your stupid little pack of dogs to your goddamn face.” And Lee hung up.

Nathan clapped his hands. “Great! We have a time and a place. I love it when our clients do all the hard work for us. Ok, we’ll be on the scene and keep anything from blowing up into an all-out brawl. We keep this Laragan off Lee, we find out what Laragan wants with Lee, and we see if we can find any dirt Laragan might have on Lee.”

Chapter Text

With the fateful meet-up between Lee and the mysterious Laragan set for tonight, the team had plenty of things to do before then. First and foremost were Parker and Hardison, scoping out the area behind the newspaper office building where the confrontation would take place. They were dressed as sanitation workers cleaning up trash in the back alleys situated between rows and rows of other buildings.

“Not a bad place for a clandestine meeting,” Hardison said, scoping it out. “Nothing but brick alleys, very little windows, a shoddy security cam that’s way too easy to stay in its blindspot, and out of sight of any foot traffic.”

“Plenty of escape routes, too,” Parker said. “Easy to duck and weave your way between the other offices and lose a tail if things go bad.”

“Which makes it equally attractive for Laragan if he needs to put the hurt on Lee,” Nathan said. “We just need to keep that from happening. Sophie, are you in position?”

Sophie was across town, dressed in her business best, and strutting right up to the offices of Laragan and Farnery Surveying, ready to work her charm on a Mr. Don Laragan. “I’m in position, just walking up to Laragan’s office now. And this time, I’ll crack this man like a chestnut at Christmas.”

“Still salty that I could crack Lee and not you, huh?” Eliot grinned. Eliot was back at the cafe, playing on a very safe hunch that Lee was a creature of habit and enjoyed a morning cup of Joe.

“Oh, you’re never gonna let that go, are you?” Sophie sighed.

“Nope!”

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it.” 

But she couldn’t worry about Eliot, she had to focus on her next mark: Don Laragan. Being this was a surveying company, they didn’t have much in the way of fancy amenities, and workers with hard hats, steel-toed boots, and hi-vis vests passed her by frequently. Striding right through the front doors revealed an extremely sparse reception room, with just a desk with a plexiglass window, behind which one front desk worker was stationed. Sophie sauntered up, flashing the receptionist a brilliant smile.

“Good morning! I’m Ms. Cathaway, here for my 9:00 appointment with Mr. Laragan?” Sophie asked. 

The receptionist, a bored middle-aged woman (probably the only woman in the entire company) nodded, handed her a clipboard to sign herself in, and picked up the phone at her desk, calling Laragan to let him know Sophie was here. And just moments later, in walked Don Laragan. He was just like his pictures; a rough, rugged man with short-cropped brownish hair and a sturdy build. And just like the other workers, he was wearing heavy work boots and jeans, but his shirt was a button-up. He extended a hand to Sophie.

“Ms. Cathaway! Pleasure! Don Laragan.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Sophie crooned. “And thank you so much for meeting me on such short notice, Mr. Laragan!”

“Please, just Don is fine. This way to my office.”

He escorted her back behind the reception area, down a narrow, short hallway that only had a few rooms on either side. Each room had a handful of desks with employees at cubicles, busily typing away. He led Sophie past all that to the very back to his private office, which was small but still tightly packed with all sorts of memorabilia, the walls lined with framed pictures of survey plots, photographs, certifications, and the like. Don sat himself at his desk and motioned Sophie to take the visitor’s chair. 

“So, Ms. Cathaway, what can I do for you?” Don asked.

“I understand you do a lot of contract work surveying land for both real estate developers and mining companies. Quite a curious overlap, wouldn’t you say?” Sophie said.

“Oh, not at all. They all want to know the same thing: they want to know what’s in the ground, and my crew can tell you exactly what sort of quality soil you’re standing on from just a few small samples,” Don said proudly. “They have different needs, that’s all. Real estate developers want to know if the land is solid: they want to know the water tables, flooding risks, sinkhole risks, anything that might compromise construction. And those same tests that tell the real estate developers all that can also tell mining companies if there’s anything precious in that dirt.”

“Like gold?” Sophie offered, knowing it was an incorrect guess.

A quick scoff and a laugh indicated that to be quite so. “Gold? No, not that sort of precious stone. Gold is found along river banks, and I don’t need to tell you river banks make for very hazardous land development. No, what mining companies want to find is other precious stones: emeralds, sapphires, jade, turquoise, silver, feldspar, stuff like that.”

Feldspar. That rang a bell. It was a stone Parker found in Lee’s apartment as part of a rock collection. She held onto that detail for now, and shook her head incredulously. “But we all know that gold is the king of all precious metals, why not hone in on that?”

“Because since everyone knows that, everyone’s scrambling to get whatever meager flecks they can pan out of the river,” Don said. “It’s an oversaturated market. All you hear about are gold and diamonds, but the earth has so much more to offer than that. And even diamonds are losing their appeal quickly , now that there’s been a spotlight shone on how DeBeers gets all those diamonds.” He leaned forward, speaking lowly and with a scathing tone. “Child slave labor.”

Sophie knew of it. It seemed every week there was a news article on how children were sent down to diamond mines to work in deplorable conditions for slave wages, how DeBeer cornered the diamond market to overinflate their value, how they corrupted the local government to give DeBeers exclusive access to the mines . . . it was all a nice tidy set-up until the operation was slowly torn apart piece by piece by investigative journalists.

Sounded like something Lee Thriggs might have been involved with. Which would have made Lee and Laragan . . . allies?

“Perfect! We’re on the same page!” Sophie said excitedly. “Mr. Laragan–”

“Please, just Don.”

Sophie smiled alluringly. “ Don . As a sales representative for Feiner Jewelers , we are looking to capitalize on the devaluation of diamonds and offer the public a girl’s new best friend. Emeralds have always been appealing, but they are a hard gem to find–”

“Twenty times rarer than diamonds,” Don added, smiling. “But everyone seems to forget diamonds aren’t as rare as they’re made out to be.”

“You know your gemstones!” Sophie teased.

“I should! It’s my business to know.”

“So, what’s a gemstone that can be universally adored by all: simple, clean, a blank slate that can fit on any band, silver or gold, with any facet that can capture the light as brilliantly as a diamond?” Sophie went on. “Pearls are an antiquity. Colored gems cut out the portion of the market who just don’t happen to like that color. So what’s next?”

Don thought. “Opals?” he offered.

“Lab-grown diamonds.”

The disgust and revulsion on Dan’s face were immediate, and Sophie knew she hit her mark with that devastating laser precision. 

“Lab-grown,” he spat. “Don’t get me started on that. There’s nothing like the real deal.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly,” Sophie said empathetically, reaching out to touch her hand to Don’s. “It’s the shareholders that don’t. These cozy big-wigs hate taking risks.” She rolled her eyes, disgusted, and Don did the same. Salt of the earth man . He hated suits and ties, and he hated corporate hand-holding. “They hate whatever they think is unsafe. And I’m out here trying to convince them there’s real gemstones out there, real works of beauty that any woman would pay just as much for, but . . .” she let out a sad sigh. “I fear I’m running into dead end after dead end. I went to Lancaster, Sinclair, Beaumont–”

There was a brief flinch from Don. “Beaumont?” he asked carefully. Beaumont was Don’s biggest competitor.

Sophie nodded, pretending she didn’t notice Don. “It’s not like we’re hurting on money, either! We have plenty of capital to offer contractors who can secure us a steady supply of precious gems, not to mention a 10% sales bonus–”

Don’s eyes widened. Ten percent?! Just for a survey? That was unheard of! But more importantly, this was an opportunity for him to get a leg-up in the competition. This was an opportunity to secure him a major contractor with jewelers and expand their business.

“Would you like a tour of the company, Ms. Cathaway?” he offered.

“Oh, I’d love to!”

Don stood and showed Sophie out, taking her out back to show her the main facilities. There were three other major buildings, two of which were dedicated to heavy equipment storage for drilling, and the other one was their on-site lab for soil tests. He showed her around there.

“Most of our business is for real estate and land development. We go on site, we scope it out, we take soil samples, and we tell the company where to build, how much they can build, and anything and everything they can and cannot do with the land,” Don explained, showing her the soil samples. He showed a few machines that measured the ratio of silt to sand to test for stability and drainage, which also measured a variety of mineral compositions.

“And sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we unearth a hidden deposit of precious stones. It’s usually small quantities, a small trove of quartz and opals and topaz, stuff like that. Not super rare stuff, but it can fetch a pretty penny if we sell it to the right person. And if we hit gold–not literal gold, you know, just a substantial finding of rare minerals–we call up our buddies in the mining business, they dig it out, and we get a nice kick-back from all that.”

“That’s a nice little business you’ve got going on here,” Sophie said. “Do you have any gemstones here right now?”

“Plenty! But they’re all still raw cuts, obviously, they get sent off to jewelers like you for the polishing-up,” he said.

“Of course.”

He directed her further back where a massive table was laid out before them, gridded out with small boxes packed end-to-end with chunks of rough unpolished stones. Hand-written labels marked the boxes and Don went down the line, reading them out.

“Jade, jasper, amethyst, topaz, opal, silver . . . and my favorite,” Don said, picking out a milky-white stone from a box. “Feldspar. Or as you would know it by its more appealing gem name: moonstone.”

Sophie nodded, taking a closer look. It was hard to tell the quality of a stone before cutting, but even she could see that translucent blue-silver glow that moonstone was so famous for. Like any other gem, high-quality stones were rare, but even a mid-quality stone like the one in her hand could fetch a nice price with the right care. 

“It’s beautiful. And I can think of many fine ladies who think the same,” Sophie said. “I can see it already: our next line, showcasing the dazzling moonstone. Capturing the night’s beauty all in the palm of your hand.”

Don laughed. “You’re quite the sales rep indeed! But, ah, sorry, these are for my private collection. I’m, ahem , a bit of a magpie myself,” he said bashfully. He leaned in close and whispered to Sophie secretively. “Ladies aren’t the only ones who like pretty stones. But don’t tell the guys that or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Sophie mimed drawing a zipper across her lips and tossing away the key. Don nodded gratefully.

“Such an underappreciated gem, really,” he said. “Nice to know I’m not the only one who thinks so! But I can offer you a variety of any of the others. We have a nice cache of some high-quality silver. Found a vein not too far from here, actually!”

“I am absolutely thrilled to hear that. Variety is the spice of life and gemstones are no different. The more variety, the better, really! It means we can have a wide selection to dazzle anyone and everyone . Including little magpies like yourself!” she teased, patting his chest, and Don laughed with her.

“And all of this is above board?” Sophie clarified.

“All completely above board, I want to assure you that,” Don said, and he was being completely honest, even puffing his chest out proudly at that. “Hey, I don’t mess around with land rights, you know? Do you have any idea how hard the EPA will come down on me if I dig so much as an inch outside of my jurisdiction?”

“And what is your jurisdiction?” Sophie asked. 

Don showed her over to a wall, on which was posted a detailed map of the upper state, with large square chunks marked. “ That is our jurisdiction,” he said, pointing to the shaded areas. “We cover a significant portion of the lower state of Washington, all the way up to the city suburbs of Seattle, and hopefully , soon enough, the west side as well.”

Sophie took a closer look. The west boasted an expansive stretch of coastal land, including an extensive lush and beautiful forest, all just tantalizingly out of reach of Don. That would all be prime real estate for the right buyers, which meant huge profits for Don. 

“So what’s holding you back?” Sophie asked.

Don just grinned, but there was a tightness to it. Touchy subject.  

“We’re in the middle of land negotiations. But you know how red tape is. It takes time, and meetings, and so many emails and phone calls and they all have to talk to their managers, and their managers have to talk to their managers . . .”

“Sounds like a headache.”

“Tell me about it,” Don sighed. “But I know a treasure trove when I see one and this is it,” he said, tapping the map. “I just need to be patient and secure my negotiations and then I’m home free.”

“Well, I wish you all the best of luck with that,” Sophie said. “This little tour of yours has been quite enlightening and I think it’s just what I need to get my shareholders on board to support your little venture!”

“That’s excellent to hear! I look forward to our next meeting! And hey, anything I can do for you, you just let me know. There’s all sorts of goodies tucked away under the earth and I know just where to find them!” Don said, shaking her hand.

“You are my man,” Sophie said, shaking his hand back, but held on to his hand for a tantalizing second longer. “Here’s hoping for our continued success!”

“Likewise!”

And with that, Don escorted her out, where they exchanged one last good-bye before Sophie was turned loose. And though Sophie played her part beautifully, she couldn’t help but feel a small bit dejected. 

“I’m clear. Nathan, I couldn’t find anything remotely suspicious. In fact, Don Laragan was quite the gentleman! He really seems on the up and up,” Sophie said. 

“Just because he keeps his business clean doesn’t mean he doesn’t have dirty secrets elsewhere. Did you manage to plant the bug?”

“Of course,” Sophie said, recalling her sit-down in Don’s office. As she and Don spoke, and she reached out to touch his hand, her other hand sneaked to the backside of Don’s computer and inserted a flash drive. That flash drive was currently allowing Hardison to hack into Don’s computer remotely and dig through his files.

“Ok, I’m in,” Hardison said, typing away on his phone. He took several minutes to scan through the plethora of files and contracts and land plots, but nothing was jumping out at him. “Nate . . . I can’t find any supposed contracts or negotiations relating to the west side. Usually there’s emails, or proposals, something , but there’s nothing like that on his computers. And I think I know why.”

“Why?” Nathan pressed.

“Like ninety percent of that land is protected national parks. No one is allowed to develop those lands, much less mine it.”

“He seemed awfully convinced there was something valuable in there, and he wants it,” Sophie said.

“But the red tape’s holding him back from doing just that and he knows he can’t get in there without risking massive fines,” Nathan said. “But how does all of this tie back to Lee?”

“That’s another thing, I can’t find anything about Lee in his files,” Hardison said. “No emails, no calendar dates, nothing .”

“He’s keeping that separated from the business. He wants to go after that land without risking his company’s involvement. Lee found out about it somehow, and Don’s trying to keep him quiet,” Nathan speculated. His theory didn’t fit completely, but it was the most logical one with what they now had.

“So why hasn’t Lee blown the whistle already?” Eliot asked.

“He might not have any proof,” Nathan said. “And blowing a whistle without ample proof means Lee’s reputation as a reporter is ruined.”

“Well, we’ve got him talking about how much he wants to survey land that’s protected by national parks–” Sophie pointed out.

“Not enough, he could just feign ignorance and when someone tells him, he can say, ‘oh gee, I had no idea, I’ll leave that alone then’ and that’s that. You can’t arrest a guy on speculation alone.”

“So now what?” Eliot said.

“Now we wait for the meeting tonight and we find out just what these men know about each other,” Nathan said.

It wasn’t long before Eliot saw a familiar face heading towards the cafe. His hunch had been right; here was Lee, bright and early, stopping by the cafe for a quick coffee before heading into the office. Eliot slipped inside first, getting in line right in front of Lee. 

There was that moment of friendly recognition as Lee stepped into the cafe and behind Eliot, and the two shared a nod and a smile in greeting.

“Hey, look who it is! The big reporter, Lee,” Eliot said. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, same old same old,” Lee said. “Just grabbing something to jumpstart the work day.”

“I hear you,” Eliot said. When it was his turn to order, he turned to the barista and waved her over. “Whatever he’s getting, go ahead and put it on my bill.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Lee said.

“No, please, I insist, my treat.”

“Well, thank you, that’s very generous of you–just the usual, Claire. And, uh, make it another double shot of espresso this morning, please.”

Eliot raised an eyebrow. “Busy day of work ahead?”

Lee let out a sharp exhale. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“No rest for the wicked, am I right?”

Eliot could see Lee try to smile, but there was a tension to him. He was nervous, alert, and rattling with anxiety. The meeting ahead must be weighing heavily on his mind because he said nothing further. Eliot didn’t want to risk pushing him too hard and kept quiet.

Their orders were ready soon, and Lee took his coffee, raising it as if toasting Eliot. “Thank you again, but I’ve gotta run.”

“Hey, any time,” Eliot said. He hesitated a second, reaching out a hand to pat Lee on the shoulder. “Hey. You take care of yourself out there.”

Lee nodded solemnly. “I’ll do my best.”

And just like that, he hurried off out of the cafe and back over to the office.  There was nothing more he could do now but wait. And Eliot hated waiting.

****

The terrible thing about an impending high-stress confrontation was that it made the rest of the day drag at an agonizing crawl.

Lee tried to have the day pass faster by doing all sorts of busy work, of which there was no shortage of. But it was barely noon when he blew through a vast majority of it, and his most pressing stories were waiting on follow-ups from other coworkers.

So he was forced to sit and wait. What an agonizing feeling. 

Five-thirty rolled around and most of the staff had cleared out to head home, but as has become the tradition, Lee was one of the last to leave. He couldn’t take sitting in the office anymore, so he elected to wait outside, right behind the building, waiting anxiously for Laragan to show his stupid, ugly mug.

Unbeknownst to both Lee and Laragan, there were five other players in a very close vicinity. Just a block down from the paper was a large black van, Hardison working his magic in the rear. He had coms open and a camera overlooking the rendezvous point, not to mention the micro-camera Eliot planted on Lee’s shirt just that morning.

“Alright, guys, Lee’s on the move and already on scene. Guy’s nervous as hell,” Hardison said.

“Ok, stand by, Eliot, are you in position?” Nathan asked.

“I’m just around the corner, in position to rush in if things go south,” Eliot confirmed.

“Good. Ok, everyone, hang tight, just remember, we need to find out what exactly Laragan’s interest in Lee is, and to keep anything from happening to Lee,” Nathan said.

Lee was pacing in circles, back and forth, one hand on his hip, the other resting on his chin, going through his head over and over what he’d say, what he’d do to Laragan when the bastard finally showed up. And luckily for him, it seemed he wasn’t the only one eager to get this meeting over and done with.

Lee stopped, straightened, and around the corner came Laragan and four other men, the same four men that roughed him up only a couple of days ago.

“Alright, team, it’s showtime,” Nathan said.

Laragan strutted up, hands spread wide placidly. But Lee didn’t buy it. He glared Laragan down, a snarl on his lips.  

“Lee! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Laragan said.

“Stop dicking around, I know what you’re trying to do!” Lee snapped. “And it’s not going to work. I gave you my answer and it hasn’t changed. Now fuck off and leave me alone!”

“There’s no need for such hostility,” Laragan said smoothly. He stepped closer, but Lee held his ground. “I’m coming to you with completely honorable intentions. There’s no reason we can’t work together–”

“I’m not getting involved with you and your pack ,” Lee spat. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own, I don’t need some asshole with his head up his ass barging in and demanding I roll over and step in line–!”

Laragan closed the distance fast, delivering a devastating sucker-punch to Lee. Lee doubled over, exhaling sharply. Eliot, who had been watching around the corner, began to move.

“Lone wolves like you don’t last long,” Laragan hissed in Lee’s ear. “They’re unstable. Violent . Just look what happened in Afghanistan–”

Lee let out a roar, rising up and socking Laragan across the face as hard as he could. Laragan reeled, but he took the blow in stride, laughing it off and wiping at his mouth.

“HEY!”

Laragan’s four goons had heard Eliot coming, and they turned just in time to see a fist connect with their face, launching one backwards. The three converged on Eliot, their blows wild and wide, which Eliot was able to deflect with ease. He grabbed one’s arm, twisted, and threw him into a wall. One of the goons, taller and thinner, got in a solid hit to Eliot’s ribs. He felt his breath grow short, but he growled, giving a sharp kick to the shin before following it up with a punch across his face.

Eliot was an expert of hand-to-hand combat, and four on one was far from his worst odds. But these guys hit hard , as undisciplined as they were, and they took his blows far too well for Eliot’s comfort. Eliot doubled-up his efforts, going for a quick flurry of blows against the nearest attacker.

Lee and Laragan had briefly paused their own fight to watch, stunned, at the unexpected intrusion. Lee’s eyes widened in recognition–and fear–as Eliot tore through the men.

“Eliot?!” Lee called out.

“Friend of yours?” Laragan grinned.

Lee turned. Laragan had a look in his eye that Lee did not like. “H-Hey– HEY! This is between me and you, he has nothing to do with any of this–!”

"He seems quite motivated to have something to do with all of this,” Laragan countered cruelly. He needed to only watch the fight for a moment to see that Eliot was a serious combatant. He fought like a beast, and if he was single-handedly standing on his own against four of his men–?

Laragan was thoroughly impressed.

With a furious cry, Eliot threw one of the men to the ground where he rolled head-over-heels in front of Laragan. The man stood up, trying to shake off the dizziness, his nose bleeding profusely. He was ready to charge right back into the fight before Laragan grabbed his arm to stop him. Laragan pulled him close and whispered in his ear. The man gave a subtle nod, and ran off, disappearing around a corner.

Lee felt his heart begin to race. He pulled up to Laragan, grabbing his shirt. “Don’t you hurt him! Don’t you touch him!”

“Or what?” Laragan taunted. He grabbed Lee’s arm, twisting it painfully, and Lee crashed to his knee, crying out in pain. “What are you going to do about it?”

Lee growled, feeling his anger rise to a boiling point–

Suddenly, a blow to Laragan’s head caused him to stumble, releasing Lee. It was Eliot, who grabbed Lee and shoved him to his feet. 

“Go!” Eliot yelled.

Lee was all too happy to do so. He turned and ran, Eliot right behind him. They raced through the alleys, swerving in and out and trying to keep out of line of sight of Laragan and his men who were in hot pursuit. They rounded one more corner, and Eliot suddenly grabbed Lee, shoving him behind a dumpster where they ducked down and waited, trying desperately to keep as quiet as they could. Lee sucked air between his teeth, trying to slow his breathing. Eliot gave it a few seconds before he peeked around the corner.

“All clear,” Eliot said, waving him up. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they find us.”

Lee stood, staring down Eliot. There was a look of pure panic on his face. “Eliot, what the hell are you doing?”

“I saw those punks roughing you up, what was I supposed to do, just stand there?” Eliot said.

“You need to stay away from those men! They’re dangerous!” Lee pleaded. 

Eliot shook his head. “I’ve handled tougher–”

“Not like this!” Lee shouted. “Not like them! Just–forget you ever saw them! Forget you were even involved! Just go home and let me handle them!”

“Yeah, because five on one is a real fair fight. Are you going to tell me who they are? Or what they even want with you?” Eliot pressed.

“I can’t! I can’t–!” Lee said, shaking his head furiously. “Just stay away from them! Please, I need you to trust me. They’re after me, not you, I don’t want you getting involved in my mess. I’ll take care of it, you just get out of here, please.”

“And just let Laragan continue to harass you?!” Eliot challenged.

“I can handle him!” Lee retorted fiercely. He was already walking away swiftly, heading back to the main road. “Just get out of here! And stay away from Laragan!”

Eliot glowered. He got a serious bruising and he still had no more idea of what sort of mess Lee had gotten involved with!

“One last thing!” Lee called out, just before he stepped out into the main thoroughfare. He paused, glancing around. “Don’t get bit!”

Eliot blinked. “Wait, what?”

But Lee was already running, giving no further clarification before he disappeared back out into the streets. 

Eliot just shook his head, retracing his steps back towards the newspaper office. “Did you get all that, Nate?”

“Yeah, we have eyes on Lee, he’s in the clear, now you get out of there and get somewhere safe before Laragan’s goons find you–”

There was a sudden, distinct sound behind Eliot. Fast, light footsteps, the sound of nails scrambling over asphalt. He spun around just in time to see an absolutely massive dog charging full-speed at him.

So that’s what Lee meant by ‘Don’t get bit.’

Eliot ducked and rolled, the dog impacting his shoulder but Eliot managed to evade those dangerous, bone-snapping jaws. Scrambling around, he found an old metal garbage lid that served as an improvised shield as the dog came around for another leaping bite, trying to go for whatever body part was closest. Eliot bashed the shield against the dog’s head, causing it to yelp.

“Eliot?! What’s going on?” Nate asked.

“They have attack dogs! I’m fighting off goddamn Cujo!” Eliot snarled, giving the dog a kick. Look, he hated kicking dogs as much as anyone, but the thing was a monster! “Hey, hey! Heel! I said HEEL!”

The dog managed to snag the hem of Eliot’s jeans and he gave the dog another kick. The dog let go, shook himself off, and came again, Eliot raising the garbage lid up high–

The dog ducked under the shield, charging forward, and snapped its jaws with brutal force down on Eliot’s arm.

He screamed.

Its teeth were like a dozen needles sinking deep into his arm, and the dog held fast, its head ripping back and forth, tearing deeper into flesh. Blood soaked through Eliot’s shirt and splattered across the ground. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the stars that exploded in his vision as he grabbed the trash lid with his other hand and pummeled the dog relentlessly. Blow after blow, he hit the dog in the head over and over again to get it to let go.

But the dog held firm. Eliot could nearly feel his bones flex from the bite force alone, blood continuing to pour from the wound.

Eliot took his thumb and jammed it deep into the dog’s eye. He’d pop it like a grape if he had to! But just a bit of pressure and the dog let go with a pained howl, and another kick sent the dog flying. Eliot braced for another round of attacks, but the dog turned tail and ran.

He was left alone, slouched up against a dumpster, cradling his brutalized arm close to his chest. The wound looked bad. Real bad. Eliot tore off the hem of his shirt and wrapped his arm, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could manage. That act alone caused an explosion of agony that made Eliot’s vision nearly go black. He rocked on his feet, sucking down a gulp of air, shook through the pain, and limped back to the van.

Parker threw open the back doors as he approached. “Eliot? Oh my god, Eliot!” she cried, seeing he was covered in blood. “Are you ok?!”

Eliot was unleashing an unending stream of the most colorful curses Parker had ever heard. She ushered him into the van, sitting him down as she tore through the supplies, pulling out a first aid kit to bandage him up.

“Attack dogs, really?!” Eliot continued to fume. Despite the injury, he was still coherent and still . . . very much Eliot. “Who the fuck is this guy?!”

Nathan rushed to the back where he saw for himself the extent of Eliot’s injuries. He could only stare. He knew it was Eliot’s job as a Hitter to handle any goons, bodyguards or hired guns, to go in and take the blows and dish them back out. Eliot had been through his fair share of beatings and he suffered countless injuries on the job. But this?

This had to be the worst one yet. 

Nate’s stomach twisted painfully. He was responsible for his team, and he was responsible for Eliot getting hurt. Eliot being their Hitter didn’t change the fact that maybe if he had done his due diligence, they would have known more. They would have known Laragan had dogs at his beck and call, and Eliot would have been prepared.

But there was nothing he could do about that now. He couldn’t undo what had been done.

“I . . . I have no idea who Don Laragan is.” Nathan admitted.

****

Despite Eliot’s protests, Nathan insisted on going to a hospital and getting proper treatment for the dog bite, not to mention a round of rabies shots. They were not taking any chances when it came to animal bites, especially one that severe. Hardison just had to spoof Eliot's medical files so it didn't trigger any red flags, but Eliot was going to the hospital for treatment; Nathan would not be swayed on the matter.

Eliot was in the emergency room for several hours and when he emerged, his entire forearm was bandaged and in a sling. And from the severely pissed-off look on Eliot’s face, that rabies shot was every bit as brutal as Nathan heard it was. The doctor was giving him a brief rundown of care instructions as he was escorted out and released.

“That sucked,” was all Eliot said with a scowl as he stormed out of the building.

“You ok?” Nathan said. 

“I got a giant needle jabbed into my stomach, I'm just peachy ,” Eliot said sarcastically.

Again, there it was, that painful twist of guild. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For letting you get hurt. For going in blind,” Nathan said. “We should have done more reconnaissance, and maybe then you would have been ready for that dog–”

Eliot sighed, shaking his head. “Laragan would have pummeled Lee into the ground if we weren’t there. Who knows how far he would have gone. And that’s what I do, right? I take the blows for others who can’t.”

“Well, it’s one thing to take a punch. It’s another to get mauled by a dog,” Nathan said. “I should have been more thorough.”

“I’ll be alright. Promise,” Eliot assured. “And hey, not my first time getting bit by something big and nasty. Not my first round of rabies shots, either.” There was a wince on his face. “They never do get easier . . .”

“How bad’s your arm?” Nathan asked.

“It’s a dog bite. It’s bad, and it’s not going to heal pretty. Only saving grace is that there’s not too many deep puncture wounds, but the damn mutt shredded my arm and I’ve got stitches all over. The rest of it, I just need to keep bandaged, and I’ve got a round of antibiotics just to be safe. Doc says it’ll be about a month or two until the bandages come off. I can still move all my fingers, so there’s no damage to any ligaments. So there’s that, at least.”

It really was as bad as Nathan feared. A full month with Eliot out of commission was not good. “Until you are healed, I need you to take it easy. We’ll do things slow. No one else gets hurt,” Nathan said.

“So what’s to stop Laragan from ordering another hit on Lee? Who’s going to step in and be the muscle while you bench me?” Eliot pressed.  

“Well, that’s the beauty of it, we’re going to prevent Laragan from doing just that to begin with,” Nathan said. “We’re going to distract him with something so big and so tantalizing that he’s going to let Lee slip his mind for a while.”

“And what would that be?”

“We know what Laragan wants more than anything. So we’ll give it to him,” Nathan went on, that familiar scheming glint in his eye. “We’re going to steal a national park.”

****

“The con is simple: we convince Laragan we can sell him surveying rights to the land, we let him play around, and while he’s digging, we flag down the EPA and he’s caught red-handed messing with federally protected land,” Nathan said.

They were all back at their home base, sitting on the sofas and watching Nate explain the plan on TV screens. Nathan had pulled up everything he could find about Laragan and Farnery Surveying with additional notes supplemented by Sophie’s initial reconnaissance. 

“He has a strong suspicion this land is rich in precious stones and metals, but of course he can’t get to any of it, and he knows that’s federally protected land, so that’s going to be a hard sell,” Sophie said. 

“Yeah, but not unheard of,” Nathan elaborated. “Under special circumstances, the EPA can grant permits for all sorts of land management programs, even mining. The key is that it has to be done with land improvement in mind, or to avert some sort of natural disaster. For example, mining out a hillside that’s prone to rockslides to prevent future rockslides, stuff like that.”

“Ok, great, but, uh . . . how does Lee fit into any of this?” Hardison asked.

Nathan paused. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “I initially suspected that Lee somehow got wind that Laragan wanted to work that land, but there’s no real crime being committed just speculating on land development, so why would Lee pursue? No, the more I think and think on it, the more I realize that it just doesn’t fit . So it . . . doesn’t.”

Eliot furrowed his brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lee has nothing to do with Laragan’s surveying business.”

There was a pause as everyone exchanged confused looks. Nathan took the opportunity to elaborate further.

“Usually when we take on a client, there’s a clear relationship and a clear motivation. Some CEO is taking advantage of an innocent person, taking their money, their insurance, their mortgage, whatever. So we already have the link established. But this case was different. We had no motivation, no link. We were running on pure speculation and putting dots together that should have never gone together. We found out weird things about both parties and insisted they had to relate to one another. Now, what do we know for sure about Mr. Lee Thriggs and Mr. Don Laragan?”

“Lee’s a reporter, used to be an investigative journalist, he was all over the world busting serious bad guys, then lost his eye in Afghanistan and he was forced to go back to the States,” Eliot offered. “And . . . for some reason, he keeps a jar of poisonous flowers in the cabinet next to his breakfast cereal.” 

“And Laragan is a surveyor, his company is reputable, above board, pays his taxes on time, has a large operation all over the state, but wants access to the west side of the state to expand his business,” Hardison said. “Also he has an attack dog that he sicced on Eliot after beating up Lee.”

Parker shot her hand into the air. “Ooh! I know! They both like rocks!”

Nathan turned inquisitively at Parker. Parker frowned.

“What? They do,” she said.

“Don Laragan has a soft spot for moonstone. And those rocks you found displayed on Lee’s shelves were . . .” Sophie trailed off.

“Feldspar,” Parker said. “Also known as moonstone .” She grinned triumphantly at Nate. “They both really like rocks!”

“Good, that’s good, Parker,” Nate encouraged. But was that just another coincidence? It had to be. He seriously doubted Lee and Laragan were squabbling over moonstone . “Now, let’s go back to what we heard on the mic between Lee and Don.”

Hardison typed in a few commands and pulled up the audio files. Soon they could hear Lee and Don speaking to each other, clear as day.

Don spoke first. “Lee! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Stop dicking around, I know what you’re trying to do! And it’s not going to work. I gave you my answer and it hasn’t changed. Now  fuck off and leave me alone!” came Lee’s retort.

“There’s no need for such hostility. I’m coming to you with completely honorable intentions. There’s no reason we can’t work together–”

“I’m not getting involved with you and your pack . I’ve been doing just fine on my own, I don’t need some asshole with his head up his ass barging in and demanding I roll over and step in line–!”

Nate paused the recording. “Laragan approaches Lee with some sort of offer to join his team. But not his surveying team. What could a writer possibly offer Don? Good press? Why would Don need that? His business is doing well, he has lucrative contracts for the next five years, he has no need for good publicity.”

“Unless he needed help covering something up,” Hardison pointed out.

“You don’t go to a reporter like Lee to cover something up,” Nate said. “You go to tabloids and podcasts, buy out a politician or pay off a deputy to turn a blind eye. No, Lee doesn’t fit here. So what now? Why would Laragan need Lee of all people? On a team for what ?”

Nate resumed the recording, where they heard the muffled impact of a punch and Lee’s pained exhale.

“Lone wolves like you don’t last long,” Laragan said with a venomous hiss. “They’re unstable. Violent . Just look what happened in Afghanistan–”

Nathan paused it again. He pointed at the screen.

“ This . I suspect this is it. What happened in Afghanistan?”

There was another pause, but this one of careful hesitance. Everyone knew, but it was a terrible thing to talk about.

“Lee was taken hostage by jihadists,” Eliot said. “He was kept in an undisclosed location for four months, likely tortured for that entire duration. And then one day he stumbles onto a US base with no recollection of how he got there or how he escaped.”

“But Laragan knows,” Nathan said. “That’s Laragan’s leverage over Lee.”

Parker raised her hand again. “I’m sorry, I’m still confused how this all connects together. How does Lee being a hostage have anything to do with Laragan being a surveyor?”

“It doesn’t. Look, forget the business, forget the surveying and the minerals and all of that for just a second,” Nate said. “Hardison, answer me this one question: Was Don Laragan in the military?”

Hardison typed away on his computer and in only moments he pulled up a file from the Army. “Yeah, yeah he was. He was in the Special Forces reserves. Served for five years but never saw any action.”

“The connection isn’t their business. It’s their military experience. Laragan enlisted, he was willing and ready to serve, and so did Lee, but he served in a much different way. In fact, a lot of those articles Lee wrote didn’t exactly paint the United States military in a very flattering light, did they?”

Hardison laughed. “No, they did not.”

“Now, I’m still working out all the kinks and I still need to find out more, but we’re shifting our focus. Laragan is a proud veteran, I’d put the whole restaurant on that bet. Lee, well , not so much, he saw the true horrors of war first-hand. And maybe what Laragan is hoping to do is turn Lee into a true patriot that bleeds red, white, and blue.”

“By intimidating him into submission?” Eliot asked skeptically.

“Or, at least, strong-arm Lee into writing more favorable articles about US military operations. I’m still working on it, it’s not my best theory, but it’s what I’ve got with what little we have right now,” Nathan said. “But what else did Laragan and Lee talk about in that little conversation?”

Now all eyes turned to Eliot, who just glared back. “What?”

“You. They were talking about you ,” Nathan said. He played the audio.

“Friend of yours?” Laragan said

Lee’s voice came in next, panicked and angry. “H-Hey– HEY! This Is between me and you, he has nothing to do with any of this–!”

“He seems quite motivated to have something to do with all of this.”

“Don’t you hurt him! Don’t you touch him!”

“Or what? What are you going to do about it?”

The audio ended there, as during the fight, Lee’s button camera got knocked loose, but it was more than enough for what they needed.

“Laragan knows you also served. Not a hard guess, given your expertise and how handedly you kicked his goons around,” Nathan said. “So he has you as his next target for his little recruitment scheme. Which is another reason why I want you laying low and out of sight for the time being.”

“I’d like to see him try to pull his little mind game on me,” Eliot growled.

Parker raised her hand again. Nathan gestured to her to speak up.

“Are we still stealing a forest?” she asked. She squirmed with excited anticipation. “I’ve never stolen anything that big before!”

“Number one, yes we have, we’ve stolen a mountain before. Twice. And secondly, yes, we are still stealing the forest. That’s a distraction con until we find out more. Laragan has two loves: his love of the military and his love of business. Three, actually, if you count his love for rocks.”

Parker giggled.

“He can’t stay focused on both at the same time, so we dangle something irresistible to him just long enough to figure out his plan and stop it.”

“We’re still working on a lot of unknowns,” Sophie said. “And now we have to worry about Laragan sending out attack dogs if we piss him off.”

“We play him like any other business mark. No one gets over their head, no one goes anywhere without back-up and an escape plan. We go slow and careful, that’s all,” Nathan said. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, what do I get to do?” Eliot said, raising his hand. Parker leaned over and poked his bandaged arm. Eliot slapped her away with a scowl. “Knock it off, Parker! That’s tender!”

“You can stay here and help Hardison work his magic,” Nathan said. “Now let’s go sell Mr. Laragan a national park.”

Chapter Text

Don Laragan sat in his office with his four closest and most trusted friends, all of which were sporting a rather colorful assortment of bruises. The interloper, Eliot, did quite a number on them, which was no small feat.

“You’re sure it’s done?” Don asked one of them.

The shortest of the four, a wiry, stringy guy with red-copper hair, nodded, then suddenly winced before he placed an ice bag back on his head, over the eye that was nearly swollen shut. “Yeah, it’s done. He nearly knocked my teeth out, but it’s done.”

“Excellent. Good work, all of you,” Laragan said confidently. “And now we wait. Just a matter of time before he comes crawling to us begging for our help.”

“Are you sure about this mark?” another man asked, this one the largest and burliest, clocking in at six foot eight and well over two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. 

“You saw him fight just as much as I did. And if he can do all that without us . . . imagine what he can do with us. We’ll be stronger than ever. And we’ll have more than enough push to either secure Lee . . . or run him out for good.”

“You want us to keep the pressure on the reporter?”

“No, no, back off on him, give him time to cool down. Make him think he’s safe, let him get complacent. Our priority is on our newest recruit. Keep an eye on him–a distant eye. Make sure he doesn’t cause trouble until we can get to him,” Laragan instructed.

The men nodded and filed out.

Don settled into his chair, feeling better about the future than he had been for a long time. Lee had been such a thorn in his side, and when Lee oh so generously introduced him to this Eliot, well, Don recognized a gift when he saw one.

All he needed to do now was bide his time.

He went about his day, business as usual, answering emails and phone calls, filing work orders, scheduling out crews and contracts, when his office phone rang. It was from his receptionist, Shelly.

“Um, Don, there’s someone here who wants to meet you,” she said, though her voice sounded very unsure. 

Curiosity got the better of him, and he was in a good mood, so he stepped out to see a man, late thirties or early forties with curly dark hair and wearing an obnoxious suit. He looked in Don’s direction as he approached and threw his hands up in the air.

“Ey, there he is! The man of the hour!” the new arrival exclaimed in a bombastic voice. Don thought he detected a hint of a Bostonian accent. 

“And who are you?” Don said, more entertained than put off by the man’s eccentricities. 

“Popandocolus! Harry Popandocolus!” he introduced, extending his hand to shake. “And you, my friend, are gonna help make both our dreams come true!”

“Oh, is that right?” Don said, barely repressing a laugh.

“Sir, if you want, I can ask him to leave–” Shelly said, but Don waved her down.

“Don’t worry, I can handle this,” Don said. “So, Mr. Pop–Popandocto–”

“Popandocolus!”

“Right, right . . . can I just call you Harry?”

“Sure thing, Donny-boy!” Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. Don let out a strained smile.

“Right this way to my office,” he said, leading Mr. Pop-and-whatever down the hall and showing him inside. Harry wasted no time setting himself down and pulling out his briefcase. 

“So I have it on good authority you’re the best at what you do, and what I need for this next job is nothing but the best!” Harry said, launching right into his sales pitch before Don even got to his own chair.

“Sir, I love your enthusiasm, but I have no idea who you even are–”

“Popandocolus! Harry Popandocolus! With New Start Mining!   We operate just over the state line, small operation, but we do shale and limestone digs, little bit of this and that, quartz and mineral too–” Harry rattled off. “But between all the digs, we do land security checks!”

Don furrowed his brow. “Land security checks?”

“Yeah, sure! We poke and prod the dirt and see if any of it’s about to blow!” Harry laughed.

A lightbulb went off in Don’s head and he nodded with recognition. “You check for land stability.”

“And not just check, we fix it! Small, controlled explosions to make unstable dirt stable ! Heh! Best job in the world! The government pays me to blow up stuff! Ha!”

“You’ve got government contracts?”

“More than contracts! We work hand in hand with the EPA itself! They have all this protected federal land, national and state parks, right? Well, we all know nature can be a hostile, cruel mother, and if you got people hiking all over and appreciating nature, you don’t want that nature to rear her ugly head and kill your hikers in a devastating landslide! What a catastrophe, am I right?!”

Don just nodded slowly. He figured it was best to just let the crazy guy ramble.

“So I asked them, I walked right up to them and I said, ‘hey, what about this lovely little park on the west side of the state, you want me to check that out?’ And I was this close to securing a deal of a lifetime when, well , when my go-to survey guy flaked on me! Cashed out his retirement fund and ran right off to the Cayman Islands! Can you believe it?! The nerve! So the EPA, they tell me no go. Not until I can find a survey team!”

Don sat back in realization. “You want to hire me to survey the national parks out west?” he asked.

“Smart man! Indeed I do!” Harry said. “Here, look, I got some paperwork right here, some preliminary land plots–we’ll have to have your guys to do a much better one, of course, and we’ll even hire you for soil samples, we just, you know, we need your help so we’re not digging in places we shouldn’t be digging! You point, we blow! It’s the perfect partner venture!”

Don looked through the contract carefully. A brief scan found nothing particularly fishy, it all checked out, and a quick search on his computer brought up a website for New Start Mining, with Harry Pop-whatever’s smiling face front and center as the owner.

Their website was hideous. Made intentionally so by Hardison. And made unintentionally worse with Eliot’s help/interference.

He ran the numbers in his head. This small mining company might not have the survey equipment they had, nothing nearly as sensitive at the very least. They could have this mining company blow a hole in the ground wherever they wanted, and it would all be EPA approved. All that red tape, gone.

“And what would happen if we were to find something valuable when we were surveying?” Don asked. 

“What, like dinosaur bones?”

Don felt a headache coming on. 

“I mean like precious minerals. Gemstones and the like,” Don said as patiently as he could muster.

Harry shrugged. “I mean . . . some rocks get knocked loose, who’s going to tell anyone if you pick through the rubble, you know? Not my business, I just need the dirt secured.”

Don mulled it over. It was almost too good to be true. He’d get access to land he’d been chomping at the bit at for years, and all government sanctioned. Furthermore, he could have access to a wellspring of precious gems and metals he knew was hidden deep beneath all that rock.

He’d be an idiot to turn a deal like this down.

“Harry, I am happy to be your man,” Don said, shaking his hand. “I’ll be thrilled to discuss the finer details with you. The soonest I’ll be open is next week.”

“Next week? Perfect!” Harry said. “That’ll give me enough time to fax over the papers, sign everything, get the EPA approval, all that muss and fuss. You let me handle that, you get your team ready!”

“I look forward to meeting with you then,” Don said, escorting him out, unable to keep the beaming smile off his face.

Today was a good day for Don Laragan.

****

“Look, all I’m saying, if Don is really after me, why can’t we use that?” Eliot protested. He was getting restless, being cooped up at their office, spending all day sitting at a computer and staring at a screen. He had no idea how Hardison could stand it.

“Really? You wanna throw yourself at Laragan and his dogs again, with one gimp arm?” Hardison asked. “Nah, man, you heard Nate, you stay here and help me get all the grunt work done for this scam. Lord knows I could use a helping hand every now and then, I always end up doing all the heavy lifting myself–”

“Yeah because that’s your job .”

“And now it’s your job too!” Hardison said with fake cheeriness. “Now sit your ass down and let me show you how to hack the EPA.”

Eliot groaned loudly, dragging his feet back to the desk, but not before snagging himself a beer first. He took a seat next to Hardison, one laptop set out for each of them.

“Ok, you did a good job making up that webpage for Nate’s fake mining company, just exudes ‘Boomer has no idea how to use technology’ energy, but now–”

“I thought it looked good.”

Hardison looked at Eliot as if he just told him he killed his pet hamster in cold blood. “You–you thought –you thought that looked good?”

“Yeah? Why?” Eliot glowered. “I put a lot of effort into that website, man! Blood sweat and tears! Literally!” He waved his bandaged arm in front of Hardison’s face.

Hardison put a hand to his chest. He was going to have a heart attack one of these days. “No, man, just–just no. But you know what? It doesn’t matter, it just needs to be up there for Don to look at and see that New Start Mining is real, it doesn’t have to look good–”

He could hear Eliot grumbling next to him.

“And next, we have to spoof a bunch of EPA documents. We need to find the correct forms and authorizations to really sell Don that it’s a legitimate contract–” he looked over at Eliot and could see a thousand yard stare in his eyes. “. . . are you even listening to me?”

“No, I started tuning you out right about when you mentioned the EPA,” Eliot said. “Just grab them and print them out and forge some signatures, it’s not that hard.”

Hardison sighed, shaking his head. “I am not appreciated in this building, this is a hostile work environment–”

“You really wanna talk to me about hostile work environments?! Who just got mauled by a goddamned dog?!”

“Well maybe if you could just help me out with a simple Google search for the forms–”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to type with one hand?!”

“I do it all the time! It’s easy! And since it was your right arm that was Clifford’s chew toy, you can actually type more words than if it had been your left arm–”

Sophie walked in, just in time to see Hardison and Eliot arguing like the old married couple they were.

“Boys, boys, what’s with all the shouting?” she said. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you breaking out into an argument?”

She had just returned from the take-out place down the street for lunch and set the bags on the kitchen counter. Both Eliot and Hardison paused their squabbling just long enough to grab their respective orders from the bag.

“We’re just following up on getting those documents Nate needed for the con,” Hardison said. “It’s ridiculously easy, I thought I could use it for Eliot’s first real try at hacking a government website. Baby’s First Hacking Job!”

“I’m going to break your scrawny ass over my knee, how about that?” Eliot said.

“Eliot, be nice,” Sophie said, though the humor of the situation was not lost on her. Children, all of them. “Parker is over at Laragan’s home address and doing another sweep. She should be wrapping up soon.” She put a hand to her earpiece. “How are you doing, Parker?”

“ UGH! It’s another boring house!” Parker bemoaned. “I mean, I found nothing significant. He has a few guns, but they’re hunting rifles and shotguns, and they’re secured in a safe. He also has a personal safe, but nothing incriminating there, just his Passport and personal documents and a small emergency stash of cash. Less than ten grand. You sure I can’t take that?”

“No, Parker, don’t take anything that’s not relevant to our case, you know the rules,” Sophie said.

Parker stared longingly at the cash, stroking it lovingly. “I’m going to miss you soooo much.” And she closed the safe and continued her search. “Nate was right about the military thing, though. A lot of paraphernalia in his room.”

Don’s room was filled with pictures from his time in the military, from candid shots of him at base goofing off with friends to professional group shots taken at a formal dinner party or some other fancy social event. There were also flags hung around the room, an assortment of medals in cases, all right next to other knick-knacks and junk from his surveying company. And like Sophie said, Don really liked his moonstones; he had an impressive collection of some high-quality gems displayed on a shelf.

“Now, Parker, be careful, there might be a dog somewhere on his property,” Eliot said warningly. “It’s big and it’s nasty. Most likely a mutt bred for fighting. As big as a Tibetan Mastiff with the discipline of a Malinois with the bite force of a pit bull, be careful.”

“And how do you know so much about dogs?” Hardison asked.

“Is that a serious question? They use dogs all the time in the military. I have a lot of first-hand experience,” Eliot said. “And while all the rich nancies are obsessed with purebreds , anyone who knows anything knows that to get a real high quality dog, you make a mutt. Get the best of both worlds from a mix of different breeds. Which is what this guy did.”

“Yeah, that’s the funny thing, I don’t see any signs of a dog anywhere,” Parker said. “I don’t see any bowls, or dog food, or leashes–”

“Check the basement, you might find some leashes and harnesses down there,” Hardison said with a smirk, and even Eliot laughed.

Sophie scoffed with a roll of her eyes. Men!

Parker shrugged and scoped it out. She already gave the basement a cursory check; that’s where Don stored his guns, but now it was time for a more thorough look. The basement was mainly used for storage and was packed floor to ceiling with boxes. Parker shimmied her way through the small aisle parsing through the boxes, peeking in here and there to see old junk stuffed away that people should throw out but never do. In the back corner was a utility closet with a water heater, furnace, and water softener, stuffed away out of sight, but still nothing noteworthy.

Until Parker noticed a very suspicious recess in the concrete wall next to the water heater.

It was subtle, just a faint crack running from the ceiling to the floor, but Parker’s keen thieving eye knew a hidden room when she saw one. All she had to do was give the wall a solid press, and the wall swung inward on a hidden hinge.

“Whoa.”

“What?!” Hardison asked.

“I think I know where Don keeps his dog.” Parker said. “But . . . there’s still no dog?”

“Turn on your cam, let me see,” Hardison said.

Parker flipped on the camera on her shirt, and Hardison’s screen flickered on with video feed, Eliot glancing over his shoulder. And their eyes just about bulged out of their heads.

The secret room was maybe twenty feet by twenty feet, made of bare concrete, but half of that room was taken up by a massive cage with iron bars as thick as Eliot’s wrist. On one wall hung chains with heavy metal clasps, along with whips and collars and leashes–

“ WHOA! That is NASTY! I did not need to see that today!” Hardison howled, nearly throwing himself off his chair.

Eliot had just as much of an immediate, visceral reaction, having thrown his hands in front of his face to shield his eyes. “Turn your damn camera off, Parker!!!”

“What?! It’s the dog stuff we were looking for!” Parker said, completely oblivious as to why the boys were being so weird. “I still don’t see any dog food–”

“Parker, honey , all that stuff is not for a dog,” Sophie said in an extremely strained voice. She had one hand raised to her eyes, blocking out most of her vision. “It’s . . . it’s a sex thing , dear.”

“Oh,” Parker said. Then her eyes lit up. “Ohhh! It’s like that BDMS stuff Hardison told me all about!”

Sophie and Eliot both turned to Hardison, who looked like he wanted to die of embarrassment.

“Hey–that’s not fair, she asked me after seeing all that stuff on the internet, don’t either of you look at me like that–” 

“Parker, please get out of there,” Sophie sighed.

“Fine.”

Hardison slammed his laptop closed, staring off into space. “Well. That image is now forever seared into my brain.”

It was then that Nathan just got back from his meeting with Don, strolling through the door and throwing off his tacky suit jacket. “What’s seared into your brain, Hardison?”

“Don Laragan is a certified freak ,” Eliot said in a very similar traumatized tone.

Nathan paused, then looked to Sophie for clarification. Sophie gave him a very strained smile.

“We found Don Laragan’s sex dungeon.”

That sentence alone nearly knocked Nathan off his feet. “Oh.”

The four of them stood there, stewing with extreme awkwardness at the extraordinarily personal and uncomfortable revelation. Nate fumbled with his briefcase before setting it down and loudly clearing his throat.

“Ok, uh . . . anything else . . . that we can actually use?” Nathan offered.

“You were right about his military obsession at least,” Hardison said, still staring off into space. “But Parker still didn’t find anything on his personal computer about Lee.”

“Well, he’s gotta have something about him written down somewhere,” Nathan said. “Uh, Parker, where are you now?”

“Back upstairs,” Parker said. “Still looking, but there’s sticky notes everywhere! Um, there's a grocery list, and a few names and phone numbers–” She took a picture of that and sent it to Hardison. “There’s a few dates marked on his calendar–wait.” She paused, glancing closer. “There’s a day circled.” She flipped through it. “One for each month . . . this month has two dates circled . . . they’re the same dates Lee had marked on his own calendar.”

“Are you sure?” Nathan asked.

“Positive!” She took pictures of the calendar and sent that over as well. “But there’s nothing written down or anything indicating what’s so special about these dates.”

“They wouldn’t need to write anything down if they already know what it’s for,” Nathan pointed out. “How far back do the marked dates go?”

“All the way to the start of the year, and probably beyond if he had last year’s calendar lying around,” Parker said. “Could be meet-up dates between Lee and Laragan? Maybe they’ve been talking to each other more often than we thought?”

“Yeah, but once a month? Was yesterday circled?”

“No . . .”

“Then it can’t be that,” Nathan said, starting to pace. “We’re still missing a piece. Here’s a thought, has Laragan looked into Eliot at all?”

“I can tell from hacking his computer that he tried to do a Google search, but since he didn’t even know Eliot’s last name, he didn’t exactly get very far. Can you believe the guy even tried Facebook? This guy is definitely no hacker,” Hardison grinned. 

“Good, we keep Eliot a mystery to him, I don’t want to give him anything more,” Nathan said. “So you stay put, Eliot.”

Eliot fumed, crossing his arms over his chest–which prompted a hiss of pain as he shook out his arm.

“Now what do we do?” Eliot asked.

“Now we . . . hang tight,” Nathan said. “Parker, I’m moving you to surveillance duty to make sure Laragan’s cronies don’t show up to Lee’s office again. Eliot, help Hardison with any hacking or computer work, and Sophie and I will keep playing our personas, keep Laragan busy. That’s the name of the game, keep Laragan busy, and find out exactly what he wants with both Eliot and Lee.”

****

With that bit of excitement over and done with, the rest of the day passed by fairly slowly. Hardison did his best to walk Eliot through on how to hack government databases, and though Eliot knew a fair amount about computers, this was way out of his level of expertise. Having one bad hand that couldn’t type didn’t help and the two did far more arguing than hacking.

Parker kept an eye on the newspaper office for the rest of the day, but saw neither Lee nor the other four goons that roughed him up. A brief search revealed the four to be Laragan’s coworkers and close friends, all four having fairly clean records as well. 

The more they found out, the less everything made sense. They had all this information, but were struggling to put it all together into one concise picture. Nathan recalled something out of a detective book where in one case, the detective had far too many clues and tried to fit them all together into one grand scheme, but in doing so, it blinded him to a far more simple, straightforward theory. 

Nathan had to do the same. He had to filter out the information that wasn’t relevant and hone in on what was.

Trick was, what was relevant, and what was just noise?

The day ended, Don and Lee both back home safe and sound with no incidents, and Nathan dismissed his crew for the day as well. 

“Take care of that arm, Eliot,” Nathan called out. 

Eliot waved him off, heading home to get some rest. Staring at a computer screen all day had given him a headache, and he was hungry as hell. 

First thing he did when he got home was change his bandages. Eliot had enough experience dressing and treating wounds, given how much he got beat up in and out of the military. He anticipated that if he took care of his arm, he could maybe expedite that two month recovery time to six weeks–

But when he peeled away the bandages, he saw his arm was . . . well on its way to being healed. Eliot paused. There was no way in hell that was possible–wounds like that didn’t heal this fast–

Sure, it left some absolutely nasty scars, but already the smaller cuts and puncture wounds were closing up nicely and the larger wounds were already looking so much better.

He took some medical snips and cut out the stitches. Those had already closed up to the point he didn’t need stitches anymore. But that was impossible . . . right?

What the hell was going on?

He flexed his hand. His arm was still sore, his muscles ached painfully, but it was a dull ache that slowly faded. This didn’t make sense . . . or maybe the bite wasn’t really that bad to begin with. In all the hysteria of getting attacked by that damn dog, maybe he over-exaggerated just how bad the bite really was . . .

There was no need for anything more than a thin layer of gauze over his arm after a thorough washing and disinfecting. Eliot decided maybe he’d take the small blessing in disguise, because it meant he’d be back on his feet all the sooner. He didn’t like the idea of his team–his friends –being out there facing down a guy who had no trouble roughing up competition while Eliot sat on his ass.

He made himself a large dinner–he was absolutely starving, who knew computer work would make him so hungry–and he tried to get some sleep. But rest did not come easy. He kept replaying the dog attack over and over in his head–

What kind of dog was that? It had to be a mutt. It was huge , with pointy ears, very wolf-like, but it had to be a Malinois mix with that reddish-brown coat. The size and temper could have come from anything, but that bite force? Eliot had been bitten by his fair share of dogs (a lot of gangs used guard dogs) and this bite by far was the strongest and most painful, even compared to a pit bull.

With that genetic freak of nature, you’d think Laragan would be in the business of breeding such a dog for home security. Or as a fighting dog, Eliot thought. But where the hell is that dog now? Actually, where the hell did it even come from? Why wasn’t it with Laragan when he met Lee?

Eliot had no idea for any of these questions, and all he could do was speculate. Best if he just closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep.

He wouldn’t get much. He woke up early, his entire body wracked with aches and pains. He felt like an old man waking up, all sore and stiff. Christ, I can’t be getting that old. He went through his usual morning routine, stretching, a brief morning set of weightlifting, and a quick jog around the block.

Nate might have said to keep low, but if Laragan didn’t even know his last name, then how could he find out where he lived? And Hell would freeze over before Eliot allowed himself to be locked in a building all day without getting outside for fresh air and a chance to stretch his legs. 

After that was a quick shower where once again Eliot looked over his bite. Still a few spots where the deepest wounds had yet to close up, but now he could move his hand without experiencing any shooting pain up his entire arm. He tried not to think too hard about how impossible that was.

He just wasn’t bitten as bad as he thought.

And then, off to work.

The day proved to be another boring, slow one, full of paperwork and forging documents and signatures and looking up government regulations to find out exactly which forms they needed and so on and so forth. It was a tedious job no one liked to do, but a lot of research and grunt work went into the cons, so it had to be done. 

No further activity reported from either Laragan or Lee, outside the usual. Lee still went to the cafe for his morning coffee and his lunches, Laragan was busy on his job site working his crews, and all was just . . . moving on as normal. Though Parker did report that Lee seemed highly anxious.

“He just left the cafe, and it seemed like he was looking around for something–or someone,” Parker reported. She was keeping her distance from Lee, not wanting to spook him.

Eliot felt a twang of guilt. Lee was looking for him to make sure he was ok. He remembered the audio all too well.

“Don’t you hurt him! Don’t you touch him!”

Lee didn’t even know him, and he was still so worried about Eliot’s safety. He must be wondering if Eliot managed to escape the Laragan confrontation unscathed. But it wasn’t as though they could tell him anything.

Maybe if Eliot just gave him a call and let him know he was okay–

Hardison shot that idea down, reminding him how easily phones could be tapped. If Laragan was watching Lee closely, and was now also setting his sights on Eliot, even a simple phone call could blow their location. Eliot just had to remain quiet.

Which he hated.

Nathan was still playing up his part wonderfully, calling up Laragan every so often and slowly feeding him documents to sign, really dragging out the whole process as long as they could. But Laragan was a busy guy with an ongoing survey job, so his responses were equally slow, which was all the better for them, really.

It was a couple more days of this, and Eliot was starting to go crazy . He was a guy who liked to hit the streets, scope things out by eye, and be in the middle of the action, but he was stuck cooped up at their office. He just wanted to get out of here and actually do something!

“We’re in the home stretch, just hang tight,” Nathan assured. “And hey, tomorrow’s the date Lee and Laragan both had marked on their calendars. Time to see what all that’s about, huh?”

Now that was something promising that Eliot was looking forward to. It’d be all hands on deck, which meant he’d finally be let out of this damn building. And his arm felt great by now. It was still sore, but he was more than well enough to throw some punches.

With that in mind, Eliot headed home, ready for whatever it was Lee and Laragan had planned for tomorrow.

But it was another restless night for Eliot. 

He was plagued by strange nightmares, nightmares that he couldn’t make sense of. Images flashed in his head, sounds echoing in his mind. Were those screams? Or some tortured wail of an animal in pain? 

He felt like he was being chased–he felt like he was cornered, and there was something out there. Something with sharp teeth and yellow eyes, chasing him. 

Hunting him–

He woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat. His entire body wracked with aching pains that sent bolts of lightning shooting up his limbs if he so much as moved. His eyes blinked open, the piercing rays of sunlight cutting through the curtains as sharp and painful as shards of glass. He tried to sit himself up in his bed–and was immediately hit with a wave of nausea as the room began to spin.

His stomach lurched and he made a desperate break for the bathroom, barely making it in time for his stomach to empty into the toilet.

 Somewhere in his apartment, he heard his phone ring. But even that sent a needle of pain right through his brain, making Eliot wince.

He hugged the porcelain throne a little longer until his stomach was sure there was not a drop left in it, then he shoved himself off, taking a drink of water right from the sink faucet to clean out the vile taste of vomit from his mouth. Stumbling across his room, trying to get his head to stop spinning for just a second, he scrambled for his phone resting on his nightstand.

“What?” he spat. Even his voice was hoarse and sore.

“Eliot, where are you? It’s past noon, you should have been in the office hours ago,” Nathan said.

Eliot turned to the clock in his room, seeing he had overslept by several hours. He groaned.

“Nate, I can’t make it in today. I’ve come down with something,” he said.

“What, you’re sick?” Nathan asked incredulously. “ Huh . I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick before.”

“Well, congratulations, now you have.” He could have snarked some more, really given Nathan a piece of his mind, but his head was pounding, his vision was swimming, and all he wanted to do was just lay down and go back to sleep. “I need the day off, there’s no way I can make it in.”

“You’re sure? Is it that bad?”

“I can come in and blow chunks all over your office if you really want me to.”

“No, no thank you,” Nathan grimaced. “You get back to bed and you get some rest, and we’ll see you when you’re all better.”

Eliot hung up without saying good-bye. He just needed Nathan to stop talking. He crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over his head.

Nathan turned back to his team, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Ok, a bit of bad news, Eliot’s out sick today, we have to go ahead without him.”

“Seriously? He’s sick?! Eliot’s never sick!" Parker said. "And he’s been looking forward to finding out what this secret date was all about!” 

“So it must really be that bad,” Hardison said. “I’ve already got a call from Lee to his office earlier this morning, reminding them he has the day off. And Laragan just arrived at his office not too long ago. Seems like even Laragan’s getting a late start to his day.”

“Ok, we split. Parker, Sophie, you take Lee, Hardison and I will take Laragan,” Nathan said. 

In a few short minutes, they were on the road. It took about an hour’s drive to get to their destinations, Sophie and Parker scoping out Lee’s apartment, and Nathan and Hardison at Laragan’s office. But when Nathan and Hardison arrived at the site, they found it gated and closed off to visitors.

But the place had very little security; their gate didn’t even have a vibration sensor, so all they had to do was climb over to get inside. The lot was mostly empty, just five cars scattered in the gravel parking lot, and keeping low and quiet, Hardison and Nate scoped it out. No one in the main office, and no one in any of the buildings.

“Where is everyone?” Hardison asked. He scanned the property. Along with the main buildings, Laragan also owned over a hundred acres of surrounding woodland property, all fenced in. “Man, if they’re somewhere in those woods, we’re never gonna find them.”

“Why would they be in the woods?”

“I dunno. Debaucherous guy’s night party?” Hardison shrugged. 

“Sophie, Parker, any movement from Lee?”

“None,” Sophie said over their coms. They had staked out on the roof of a nearby building for a vantage and were also surveilling the inside with the hidden cameras. “Lee’s at home, and he doesn’t look too well himself.”

They were watching Lee lumber around his kitchen sluggishly. He had a pot of coffee brewing, and had just put a small pot of water on the stove. Lee sat at his kitchen table, head in his hands, occasionally wiping the sweat off his forehead or rubbing his eyes. He then went to his kitchen cabinet and pulled out the jar of dried monkshood. 

Sophie leaned close, watching intently. What was he doing with that?

He set it on the table, and from under one of the drawers, he pulled out an old-fashioned mortar and pestle. He took out one of the flowers carefully, putting it into the mortar, and grinding it up. He took it over to the pot of water, now boiling, and dumped it in. He added a few more things, a few spoonfuls of sugar, a dollop of honey and molasses, a few more assortment of spices, before he stirred it all together and poured it into a mug.

And then he drank it.

Sophie gasped loudly. “Oh my god! He drank it! He drank the monkshood!”

“Are you not supposed to drink it?” Parker asked.

“No! It can kill you! Lee is out of his mind!” Sophie cried. “A dose that large can kill someone in hours! Lee’s going to kill himself!”

This wasn’t making sense. None of this was making sense.

Nathan felt his mind whirl. He had to find the relevant pieces of information. He had to sift through the noise, he had to find the connection, he had to find the points that fit together.

The survey company. Rocks. Moonstone. Vying for land–

But the only thing that made any sense was nothing short of complete lunacy–

“Lone wolves like you don’t last long,” Laragan had said.

Lee begging, pleading to Laragan to leave Eliot alone. 

“Don’t hurt him. Don’t TOUCH him.”

A fridge full of cut meats. “Lee must like his steak dinners.” No silver jewelry. Aconitum in his cabinet. Moonstone on his shelves–

“Unstable. Violent . Just look what happened in Afghanistan–”

When you have dismissed the impossible, whatever remains, however implausible, must be the truth.

“Sophie,” Nathan asked. “ Aconitum. Monkshood. What is it also called?”

Sophie stuttered. “Uh–it’s–it’s also called–”

“Wolfsbane.” He turned around to Hardison. “What phase of the moon is it tonight?”

Hardison shot him a brief look of confusion before pulling out his phone and checking. “Full moon. Why?”

“Those other dates Parker gave you, were they also full moons?”

More confusion, but Hardison checked as well. “Yes . . . ?”

There was no way. It was impossible –

He pulled out his phone and dialed Eliot. He heard it ring a few times, but it went unanswered and went to voicemail. “Eliot, call me back as soon as you can, there’s something you need to know.” He looked back up at Hardison “Hardison, when does the moon rise?”

“Nate, what the hell is going on, what does the moon have to do with anything–”

“WHAT TIME, HARDISON?!”

Hardison jumped. He knew that tone. And Nate’s expression told Hardison something was going horribly wrong. Nate’s panic was infectious, and Hardison felt his own hands tremble as he looked it up.

“In a bit over two hours,” he said, but Nathan was already running back to the car. He chased after him. “Nathan! Wait! What’s going on?!”

“Everyone, get back to the office immediately , we need to get to Eliot right now.”

Sophie and Parker exchanged worried looks, but they did as Nathan asked. “Could you just please tell us what’s going on?”

“That wasn’t a dog that bit Eliot,” was all he said before he jumped into the car and started it. Hardison barely had time to clamber into the passenger seat before Nate tore away, tires screeching as he floored it.

****

Eliot couldn’t recall ever feeling so sick before. Most of the nausea had passed, but he was left with absolutely debilitating body aches. His muscles cramped, his skin felt like it was on fire, his head pounded with an agonizing migraine, and every sound and every slight assault on his senses was like getting hit by a bolt of lightning.

It was all unbearably overwhelming. Like his entire body just wanted to explode .

Just his phone ringing proved so deafeningly loud that Eliot threw it across the room with enough force to shatter it to pieces, silencing it. He tried taking a cold shower but it did nothing to alleviate his symptoms. Every ice-cold drop of water felt like a knife cutting against his skin and he shut it off, furious.

He wetted a towel and draped it around his neck, leaning over the sink and trying to take deep, slow breaths. His heart was beating so fast and so hard it was making his chest ache. His lungs felt like they were being squeezed, every breath felt like he was suffocating.

What the hell was wrong with him?!

He closed his eyes, focusing on just his breathing. He tried to tune out the noise of traffic outside, tune out the noise of neighbors stomping and screaming next door, tune out the smell of his apartment, the smell of his own sweat–

He opened his eyes, staring down at his hands. His right arm, heavily scarred from that dog bite, burned. A sharp shooting pain erupted all along the limb and it was like he was back in that alley, getting bit over and over by that damn dog–!

The dog with red-brown fur, white flashing teeth, and burning yellow eyes . . .

Another bolt of pain shot up Eliot’s arm and he crashed to his knee, gritting his teeth to bite back a cry, gripping his arm close to his chest. He flexed his hands, feeling them cramp painfully–

He stopped. And stared.

His fingernails were now long and sharp. Like claws.

What the fuck.

He stood, momentarily stunned just enough to block out the rest of the pain, and he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked . . . different . He continued to stare until he realized his eyes, once blue, were now a solid golden yellow .

No. This isn't happening. This wasn’t making sense. What was happening to him?!

The longer he stared, the more he saw wrong with the face in the mirror. His facial hair was thicker than it should be–his canines were too long, too sharp. His ears– pointed –poked through his hair. His eyes were wrong .

The image of the dog bite kept playing over and over in his head. Those yellow eyes, hungry . Predatory. Far too intelligent. And now those same eyes were staring at him in the mirror.

His arm burned.

That was not a dog that bit him.

It was a wolf .

Impossible. Insane . Was he finally losing his goddamn mind?! 

But through all the chaos and confusion of his mind warring with the impossible, logic and sense broke through. Intensive, brutal training from his past came back in full force, forcing him to remain calm in a desperate situation.

Think it through. Logic it out. What is happening?

In the pit of his stomach, he knew what was happening. But it was too ridiculous to even accept–

Do not let emotion get in the way of facts. What are the consequences should you refuse to act?

Should Eliot refuse to take proper action . . . a lot of people were going to get hurt.

People could get killed.

If he was right.

And if you are wrong , what are the consequences?

Then . . . he’d look like an idiot, Hardison would never let him live it down–

The consequences of being right far outweigh the consequences of being wrong. You know what you MUST do. Move. NOW.

Eliot had no idea how much time he had. Likely not nearly as much as he’d like. He’d need to move fast, grab only what he absolutely needed–

He knew how to handle guard dogs. A well-fed dog was a happy dog, and a happy dog was a peaceful dog–

There was a cooler downstairs. He raced to grab it, ripped it open, and went straight for his freezer, throwing every last piece of meat he could find in it.

Secure yourself. Lock yourself away. Don’t let anyone find you.

It was hard to think straight when every inch of his body was consumed by blinding pain. But he had to focus. He had to think . Somewhere secure. He knew, from the many jobs they’ve done over the years, that there was a whole swath of warehouses sitting empty and abandoned down at the docks. He needed one outside town, one far away from any wanderers, one where no one would look–

He knew of one. 

There were heavy chains in his garage for locking up his motorcycle when he traveled, as well as cables and padlocks. He grabbed them all, and shoved them into his car.

He had no idea if it would be enough. But it needed to be.

He drove like a bat out of hell, weaving in and out of traffic, prompting many drivers to lay on their horns as he passed them by. But Eliot kept driving, trying to blink away his blurring vision, fighting through the agonizing migraine that assaulted him every time he passed a streetlight or heard a blaring horn. It was like all his senses were magnified tenfold and everything was a hammer blow to the head.

But he kept driving. Out of the city, down to the docks, down to a derelict shipping yard with warehouses all lined up, collecting dust. It was the best Eliot could do.

The pain was getting worse. He was running out of time. 

His car screamed up to the nearest building and he barely put it into park before rushing out, throwing the cooler inside and grabbing the chains and padlocks. He slammed the warehouse door shut, securing it tight by wrapping a chain around it and locking it with the padlock. His hands were shaking so bad it took him several tries just to get the lock through the chain links and shut.

Check the other doors. HURRY.

Eliot raced around the building. One main garage door in front, who knows how many side doors. He didn’t have enough cable and chains for all of them, but there was still shelving units and junk stored away. He kicked away the supports on the shelves and they collapsed in front of the doors, blocking the exit.

Please be enough.

He checked them all, performing a full perimeter and locking all doors tight, either securing them with chains or barricading them shut. He was locked in.

Please be enough, please be enough.

He was out of time. He could feel it. The pain had become overwhelming and he was running off of pure adrenaline alone, and when he had secured the last door, he finally collapsed. His knees buckled beneath him, crumpling to the ground and curling in on himself as he felt the pain crescendo to a level Eliot didn’t think was possible.

He gritted his teeth, tears stinging his eyes.

All he could think about now was a desperate hope that his friends were somewhere far away, where they wouldn’t find him–

The moon rose. Eliot threw back his head and screamed .

He could hear his bones cracking. He could feel his muscles tear themselves apart. His entire body lurched and spasmed as he felt his very body begin to change.

Eliot rolled on the ground, bracing a hand against the floor. The bones in his hands snapped and cracked, and he could see it swell, his nails growing long and black, growing into sharp and vicious claws. Dark brown hair grew all over his hand, coming in thick and wild.

Fur.

His eyes went wide, but the changes kept coming. His other hand spasmed as well, claws ripping through the tips of his fingers and hair covering his arms. He felt his muscles swell, his clothes ripping to pieces as his form grew, more hair–more fur sprouting all over his body. He clenched his teeth, fighting back more cries of pain. He felt his teeth ache as they grew longer, sharper, crowding his mouth, until he felt his very jaws snap outward, extending into a long muzzle. His screams became deep, bestial growls as his very voice underwent its own brutal transformation.

His legs snapped and grew into a new animalistic shape, the bones grinding together as they snapped and reshaped, feeling his ankles lengthening and his calves shortening, the muscles pulling them into place as they ached and burned and molded into their new shape. His feet swelled into paws, the skin on the underside of his feet growing thick like leather as they became dark and padded, nails lengthening into short blunt claws.

His body grew, becoming a much more monstrous, lupine form, with a wolfish head and snout and a body covered in thick dark fur, white teeth gleaming in the fading light and yellow eyes piercing the shadows. 

Eliot could feel himself losing his grip, his mind slipping away, his vision fading to black as instinct took over . . .

The Werewolf threw back his head and howled.

Chapter Text

“ELIOT!”

Nathan kicked in the door of Eliot’s apartment. There was no answer, no sound, and after racing around to every room, he found no one home. Eliot wasn’t here.

“Eliot! God damn it!” Nathan swore.

Sophie and the others were in hot pursuit, taking in Eliot’s apartment. It was torn apart; the refrigerator was still open, clothes were scattered everywhere, his phone was smashed on the floor, and his car was not in the garage.

Sophie looked silently to the others who just shrugged helplessly. Neither of them had any idea what had gotten Nathan in such a panic, and all of them were too scared to even ask.

“Hardison!” Nathan said. “Do you still keep trackers in our shoes?”

Hardison didn’t even risk a joke. He just nodded. “I know you said no more GPS tracking, but Eliot has a habit of going AWOL, so I kept chips hidden–”

“Find him!”

Hardison was already on it, looking up the coordinates for the tracker he had designated for Eliot. It was only minutes before he found a ping.

“He’s down by the docks, I have him narrowed down to a row of warehouses–”

“Warehouses,"  Nathan said, and Hardison thought he could see a brief look of relief flash across Nathan’s face. “Thank god. We need to get there right away.” He ran past everyone, heading right back outside to the cars. 

Hardison just glanced at the others before following suit. They all piled into the van, Nathan behind the wheel and Hardison riding shotgun to direct Nate.

After a few tense moments of driving in silence, Sophie finally dared to speak up.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on, Nate?” she asked gently.

He slowly shook his head. “I don’t know if you guys will believe me even if I told you,” Nate said.

“Try us.”

There was another long, long pause from Nathan. “You’ll have to see it for yourselves.”

It was about a half hour later that Nathan pulled up to the docks, and outside one warehouse was Eliot’s car. The doors were thrown open, but there was no sign of Eliot.

It was dark now, the full moon shining brightly in the night sky.

Nathan exited the van, hesitating. He still had no idea how to approach this situation, and his mind scrambled for some sort of plan. Parker and Hardison rushed ahead to the warehouse, going for the door, but it didn’t budge.

Parker pounded on the door. “Eliot? Eliot! You in there?” She turned to Hardison. “Are you sure this is it? And why would he even be here? What’s he doing?”

“The GPS chip leads right here,” Hardison said, checking his phone. “Nate, come on, what’s going on?”

“Is Eliot in trouble?” Sophie urged.

Nathan was pacing in circles, hands bracing against his head. “Y-yes, but no , he’s–no, we need to stay calm, I need to think –” He looked back up at the warehouse, where Parker was still yanking on the main front door.

“It’s locked from the inside, I can’t pick a lock I can’t see!” she said.

He couldn’t risk anyone going in there, not until he knew exactly what he was dealing with. Eliot came here, he locked the door, he must have known–

Damage control. Make sure he’s secure.

“Everyone! Take a lap around the building! Check every door, make sure it’s locked up tight!” he ordered.

“You want us to make sure the doors are locked?!” Hardison said.

“Yes! Now move!”

Nathan was already running before anyone could ask more questions. They all know Nate’s habit of leaving everything a cryptic mystery, but there was no mistaking his frenzied panic and fear. Something was going on, and they just needed to trust him.

They took off, Sophie following Nate clockwise around the building, Parker and Hardison going counter-clockwise. They checked every side door they saw, jiggling the handle to make sure it was locked, and any that weren’t, they found it stuck fast, barricaded from the inside. They kept going, door after door, but they were all secure.

“Hardison, what’s going on?” Parker asked him worriedly. “Is Eliot ok?”

Hardison could only shake his head. “I have no idea.”

Parker and Hardison ran into Nathan and Sophie at the back of the warehouse, both having done their own half of the perimeter. But Nathan kept going, double-checking all the doors that Parker and Hardison just checked.

“Nathan, would you please just tell us what’s going on!” Sophie cried out exasperatedly. Unlike the rest of the team, she was not much of a runner, and the lap around the warehouse left her gasping for breath. 

“If Eliot’s in there, then we should go in after him–!” Hardison started.

“No! No one goes inside! Not yet, not until I figure this out–”

“Figure what out?! If Eliot’s in any danger–!”

“Then we’ll put ourselves in danger if we chase after him!”

“Nate! Eliot’s our friend, we need to help him–!”

“We can’t help him, not yet, we need to wait–!”

“Wait for what?!”

The group dissolved into a screaming fit. Sophie and Hardison yelled at Nathan, demanding an explanation, but Nate stalled them at every turn, refusing to elaborate, refusing to even let them get inside.

Parker took a step back, looking over the building. Though the doors were boarded up, there was definitely a skylight for easy access. She could get in there in minutes. Eliot was in there, and he was in trouble, so she needed to go in there after him. 

The team could stand there and argue all they wanted. She was going to get their friend! 

Eliot would do the same for her.

She ran back to the van, grabbing a duffel bag packed with her climbing gear. She always had an emergency bag ready to go, which she was grateful for now. She raced back to the warehouse, finding a fire escape that led to the roof and rushed up the ladder, as quick and sure-footed as a cat. And right there in the middle of the roof was a skylight, which she kicked open as she donned her harness and pulled out a rope and battery-operated winch, ready for the descent.

Nate was doing his best to keep Hardison and Sophie from rushing in, but he knew he was just stalling. He needed to tell them all the truth–but even now, it would just sound insane, and the only way to prove what he said was true was to show them, but he couldn’t do that! He will never put his team in needless danger, they already had too many close calls–

“Where’s Parker?” Nathan said suddenly. He glanced around. “Parker? PARKER!!!”

“I’m on the roof!” Parker said over her earpiece, finishing her tie-off and bracing her feet against the skylight. “And I’m going in after Eliot! With or without you!”

Nathan was already running, scrambling up the ladder as fast as he could. “Parker, do not go in there! Stop!”

Parker ignored him and jumped.

It was a fairly tall warehouse, just about fifty feet from top to bottom, and she fell at a controlled speed thanks to the winch. Her feet touched the concrete floor seconds later, and she took out a flashlight to look around. It was practically empty, just a few scattered pieces of junk shoved against the walls and old metal shelving units mostly picked clean. She began her search.

“Eliot!” she called out. “Eliot, are you in here?”

“Parker, listen to me!” Nathan said frantically over her coms. He was now on the roof, but Parker had already gone inside. “You need to get out now!”

Parker kept going, ignoring Nate. If Nate was going to withhold answers, she’d find them herself. Her flashlight scanned the ground, looking for any sign of Eliot, when she found something odd on the ground. She approached.

She saw a shirt and a pair of jeans, ripped to pieces. And nearby were a pair of shoes, their soles torn clean off and also ripped apart. She frowned and turned on the camera on her harness.

“Hardison, are you seeing this?”

Hardison had followed Nate onto the roof, and with him was a small laptop which he flipped open and powered on, watching the live video feed from the camera. “Yeah, I see it–are those Eliot’s clothes?”

“He has a very distinct style,” Parker said, kneeling down and picking up a piece. They weren’t cut by a knife or anything sharp. The threads were torn. They had been ripped; something had pulled it apart with a great deal of force.

This was already getting really weird.

She kept scanning her flashlight and saw a pool of red liquid. Her throat tightened and she moved closer, seeing the red liquid lead to an overturned cooler. Empty packages of meat were ripped open with shredded pieces of styrofoam and saran wrap tossed everywhere.

She exhaled. It wasn’t blood, not really, it was just the myoglobin found in meat. And she saw scraps of raw meat scattered all over nearby. This was getting weirder and weirder. She kept searching, seeing that the dust coating the floor had been disturbed; something had rolled all across the ground here. She saw footprints leading in from the main door to here, and then–

She paused, leaning closer.

Were those . . . paw prints? They were massive, way bigger than any dog, maybe even as big as a lion. But it wasn’t a big cat; the shape was wrong. She followed more of the paw prints and saw what looked suspiciously like a handprint, only it was twice the size of hers.

What was going on?

“Parker, Parker, you need to listen to me,” Nathan came in again, his voice low and desperate. “You need to get out, you need to get out right now. Eliot–he’s not himself. He’s not in his right mind, he could hurt you–”

“Eliot’s my friend , he would never hurt me,” Parker defended fiercely. She kept looking, following the pawprints. 

“He’s not–! He may not be Eliot right now!” Nathan pleaded. “And if he hurt you, he’ll never forgive himself, so do not do that to him and get out of there!”

“What the hell is any of that supposed to mean?!” Hardison pressed.

Parker kept going, then stopped. She swore she heard something–there was something moving over in the corner, she could just barely make out a shape in the darkness.

“Eliot?” she called out.

“Parker, get out!”

She took another step forward, raising her light. “Eliot, are you there–?”

She could hear a wet sort of crunching, smacking, snapping sound, punctuated by an occasional deep huff of breath. She stepped closer.

“Eliot?”

“Parker, don’t do it. I need you to just listen to me–”

Hardison turned angrily to Nate, completely at his wit’s end with Nate’s bullheadedness. “Nate, what is going on?!”

Nathan gritted his teeth, eyes shut tight as his hands clenched into fists.

Parker raised her flashlight, revealing the figure in the corner.

“Eliot is a werewolf!!!”

Parker saw it. Illuminated by the glow of her flashlight, she saw it.

It was a massive, hulking, lupine beast, dark brown fur covering its body. It had a wolfish head, with pointed ears and a long snout adorned with long, sharp, glistening fangs. Hand-like paws gripped a bone, which it had been chewing, until it turned one gleaming golden eye on Parker.

It turned to face her. Parker felt her heart hammer in her chest, her breath hitch in her throat as she stared down the beast. Panic and terror filled every fiber of her body as she began to shake.

And everything she saw, so did everyone else.

Hardison’s eyes went wide with horror.  “PARKER, RUN!!”

“DO NOT RUN! Parker, DON’T. MOVE!” Nathan commanded. “You’ll trigger his chasing instinct! No, hold your ground! Avert your eyes, but do not run!”

Parker could barely move, and her breath was coming so fast she was nearly hyperventilating. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop staring at the beast in front of her.

It reared back on its hind legs, standing at its full height. It must have stood well over six feet tall, maybe even seven, its thick fur coating a powerful, muscular body. It stared straight at Parker before it dropped back to all fours, taking a step towards her, those yellow eyes fixed right on her. Parker stepped backwards, fighting every instinct in her body to turn and run, trying to control her breathing, trying to keep herself from shaking, trying to fight back the tears glistening in her eyes.

It stepped closer and Parker felt herself take another step away. Every step Parker took backwards, it took forwards, its head slightly raised, its wet nose sniffing the air. She had to get back to her rope, she had to get out of here–

She reached into her back pocket, grabbing for something to defend herself, never taking her eyes off the beast lumbering towards her. She felt her hands close around something hard and plastic. It was her taser, the one thing she never went anywhere without. She ripped it forward, pointing it at the wolf.

“S-stay back!” she warned, pointing the taser at the beast defensively.

The wolf’s reaction was immediate and violent.

Its eyes widened and its lips pulled back as it unleashed a furious roar. It hunched low, hackles raised, fur standing on end as it brandished its claws, letting loose a series of loud, angry, enraged barks. It snapped its jaws viciously in the air, saliva drooling from its fang-riddled maw and it paced back and forth in front of Parker, swiping forward aggressively with those razor-sharp claws. Parker yelled out, stumbling backwards, keeping the taser raised, fighting through her overwhelming panic and fear as she took one stumbling step back away from the beast after another.

The wolf pursued, maintaining its distance just barely out of reach.

“Parker?! What’s happening?!” Nate demanded.

Back and forth the wolf paced. Its growling and snarling grew louder and louder. Once or twice it lunged forward, swiping at Parker, its jaws snapping sharply in the air.

From the rooftop, Hardison felt his blood turn to ice. “It’s going to kill her! That thing’s going to fucking kill her!!!”

But Nate wasn’t so sure. No, he saw how the wolf was acting before, something happened to make it snap like that–

“Parker, what happened?!” Nate demanded again.

“I don’t know!” Parker cried, her voice breaking out into a terrified sob. “I have my taser pointed right at him–”

Her taser.

“Parker! Drop the taser!” Nathan ordered.

Hardison whipped towards him, furious. “What?!”

“Drop the taser! It’s not going to hurt him, it’s only pissing him off!” Nate explained quickly. “Parker, you are threatening him and he’s reacting to the weapon! Drop the taser!”

“You’re going to kill her!” Hardison protested. “You’re going to kill her!”

Down below inside the warehouse, Parker stared down the wolf. The wolf’s ears were pinned back, still snarling, still growling, still pacing back and forth angrily.

“Parker, do you have any doubt in your mind that if he wanted to kill you, he would have? Do you think your taser would have stopped him?” Nathan pressed. “Just drop it. Parker, you need to trust me, drop it!”

She was dead either way, she knew it. She sucked in a deep breath . . . and threw the taser away, tossing it to the side, her hands raising in the air in surrender.

The wolf’s head snapped to the side, following the taser as she threw it, then snapped its gleaming yellow eyes back to Parker, staring right at her. But the change in its demeanor was just as instant as it started. It stopped growling. It stopped snarling. It stopped pacing. Its hunched over, aggressive posture relaxed. It just stared at Parker . . . completely and utterly calm.

Parker allowed a shaky exhale to escape her lungs. The two stared each other down, Parker hardly daring to move.

The wolf snorted, shook itself out, and turned away from her.

Get out. Get out get out get out get out get out, a panicked, frantic voice whispered in Parker’s mind. She kept her eyes glued on the monstrous lupine form in front of her, her legs weak and shaking as she stepped backwards, back across the warehouse, back towards her rope–

She tripped over the torn clothes, crashing to the ground. The wolf jerked back in surprise before it rushed straight towards her–

Parker screamed, throwing her arms over her head and curling into a ball, squeezing her eyes tight.

“ELIOT!!!” she cried out.

She braced herself. She waited for those teeth to tear into her, those jaws to crush her bones. She waited for those claws to rip her apart.

It never came.

Slowly, she cracked open an eye. Looming above her was the wolf, staring down at her. Its nose pressed into her face, nudging her. She sat up carefully, scooting away from it. The wolf followed, nosing her, sniffing her over, but its ears were up and alert.

She heard the wolf whine .

“. . . Eliot?” she whispered. 

It looked at her, and maybe it was just her imagination, maybe it was just her projecting, but she swore she could see recognition in his eyes. He looked at her– really looked at her, and for that split second, Parker swore she saw the man behind the beast’s feral eyes.

She raised a hand, slowly, very slowly, reaching out to his face.

The wolf’s lips pulled back, letting out a sharp and low growl of warning. Parker jerked her hand away.

The wolf snorted once more, turned around, and stalked back into the dark shadows of the warehouse.

Parker stood, still shaking, but she was in one piece. She was alive, and more importantly, unharmed.

He had her dead to rights. He could have torn her apart. She was completely defenseless against him.

But he barely even touched her.

“Parker,” Hardison’s voice came over the coms. It was shaking and barely controlled. “Get out now .”

The wolf had disappeared out of sight, and Parker continued to back away, retreating to her rope. She tied herself in and pulled herself out, into the waiting arms of Hardison. He raced forward, embracing her as tightly as he could.

“Are you ok?!” he asked. “Are you hurt? Did it bite you?!”

Parker shook her head. “No–no, I’m ok, he didn’t do anything to me–”

Hardison still checked her over, patting down her arms and sides and face, checking every inch of her skin for any wound or any sign of blood. But there was nothing. She was untouched.

Hardison had seen everything Parker had seen. He too saw the werewolf. And now he knew that Nate knew , and had been holding out on them.

He turned to Nate, absolutely furious. “You son of a bitch –”

Sophie reached out to him. “Hardison, stop–!”

Hardison punched Nate as hard as he could across the face. “You knew! And you didn't tell us!”

“I didn’t know how to tell you–” Nate stammered, wiping the blood from his mouth. Hardison shoved him hard enough to knock him off his feet.

“You put Parker in danger!”

“No, Nate told us not to go in, I went after Eliot myself–” Parker tried to plead.

“Because what were we supposed to think?! Eliot, alone in the middle of nowhere locked inside a warehouse! What were we supposed to think?!”

“I’m sorry,” Nathan panted, raising out his hand. “I’m sorry, I just . . . I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t want to put any of you in danger. I needed to keep Eliot safe, too.”

“So you lied,” Hardison seethed. “You lied to us.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you so you’d believe me,” Nathan explained. “If I had told you without seeing it for yourselves, would you have believed me?”

Hardison hesitated. It was too surreal–he saw it for himself, but even then a part of himself still couldn’t believe it. But he had to accept the impossible when Parker was put in danger. Parker could have gotten killed and that forced him to face the horrific truth real damn quick.

But if Nathan had told him that when they were driving over? Well . . . Hardison would have thought Nathan finally lost it. He would have stopped Nathan by any means. He had the tech in to stop his car dead and access to emergency help at the push of a button.

He stewed in furious silence. 

Parker had fallen back to her knees, staring down the skylight into the warehouse. She could still occasionally see the werewolf stalking around the building. She saw everything with her own eyes, but she still couldn’t believe the beast down there was her friend.

No . . . she could . Because she saw the way he looked at her, how he reacted. How . . . human he still was.

“It’s still Eliot,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “He’s still in there.”

Hardison was not ready to let this go. “Still doesn’t change the fact there was no way for us to know that before now. I know I’m the geek, but don’t any of you pretend you don’t know at least something about werewolves! They’re vicious, bloodthirsty monsters!”

“And he’s still our friend!” Parker said, jumping back to her feet and rounding on Hardison. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “He’s still our friend, and he needs our help!”

“And what do you want us to do?” Hardison said.

“Nothing,” Nathan said. He sat back onto the roof, still reeling from what happened, what he saw . “There’s nothing for us to do but wait until sunrise.”

Sophie shuffled over to sit next to Nate, barely able to manage a word, she was so shocked. Parker sat by the skylight, still looking down and watching the werewolf– Eliot –pace. But Hardison was far too stressed and anxious to sit still. 

It was bad enough to realize something like a werewolf was real. It was worse to know the man he had worked with for years, who he considered a very close friend, was one.

Hardison loved science fiction. He loved Star Wars and Star Trek alike, but he always knew to separate reality from fantasy. He always knew where to draw the line.

But now?! Now that he saw with his own eyes that monsters were real? He didn’t know what to think! He needed more answers.

His laptop was still there, still recording the footage from Parker’s camera. He picked it up and began a furious search on the internet for whatever he could find about werewolves.

The night passed in uneasy silence. Occasionally, they could hear shuffling or crashing sounds as the werewolf overturned something. Sometimes it got so loud it’d make everyone jump, and they’d wait with baited breath for . . . something to happen. But nothing ever did. The warehouse was secure, and the werewolf couldn’t get out.  Nathan knew it was stupid to go down in there, and no one else seemed particularly eager to meet a werewolf up close and personal.

All Nathan could think of were next steps. What do they do with Eliot? What now?

“What are we going to do?” Sophie whispered. She leaned against Nate’s shoulder, a coat draped around her shoulders. 

Nate shook his head. “I . . . I don’t know. We just have to . . . help. However we can.”

“Help?” Sophie repeated as she choked out a dry laugh. “How do we help?”

Nathan had no answer to that.

The hours passed. None of them moved from their spots on the roof, or even talked. But soon, the first hints of sunlight broke the horizon as a pale orange-yellow colored the very edges of the night.

“Hey, guys,” Parker called out. “I think something is happening . . .”

Everyone crowded around the skylight to look in. There, right below them, they could see the werewolf pacing back and forth anxiously. It shook his head, a hand pawed at its face, it growled angrily and snapped its jaws at nothing. Suddenly, it let out a horrifying howl as it fell to the ground, writhing in pain. 

They watched as the werewolf’s form cracked and shifted, its fur falling out in great chunks as it grew smaller and smaller, its snout sinking back into its face and its lupine legs straightening into a more human form. It howled–but even then that changed to a more human wail of agony.

They watched as the werewolf changed back into Eliot.

He then collapsed onto the floor, unmoving.

They stared on in stunned silence. Parker was the first to move. She grabbed the rope and Nate’s jacket, lowering herself down and back into the warehouse. She rushed over to Eliot, draping a coat over him before heading to the front door, picking the padlock chaining it shut with ease. By the time she did all that, the rest realized they should probably get moving too and headed back down the fire escape and around to the front door. They all rushed inside and huddled around Eliot, who was still out cold.

“What do we do?” Parker asked.

Nate was quiet and contemplative. He stared down at Eliot sprawled on the ground. He saw his arm, white scars tearing it apart like lightning.

He was responsible for his team. Always will be.

“We bring him home,” Nate said.

****

Yellow eyes, piercing from the dark.

Following him. Hunting him. Hungry for him.

He was running, though he knew it was futile. But he needed to run. White dagger teeth nipped at his heels, a breath hot on his neck, claws ripping out of the darkness towards him–

A wolf, furious and vengeful, leaped for his throat–

Eliot woke with a start.

It took him a while to recognize where he was. He was in a bed, but not his bed, not his room. He was . . . he struggled to remember. Why was it so hard to remember?

His head was pounding. Everything hurt.

Slowly, the pieces came back to him. He recognized this place. He was at their office, in the spare bedroom that Nate kept furnished in case any of them pulled a late night. And he was wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts that definitely weren’t his.

But . . . how did he get here . . . ?

Someone was coming. Eliot turned towards the door, seeing it open as Nate stepped in. He paused at the doorway.  

“You’re up,” he said simply. “Uh . . . may I come in?”

Eliot just nodded. His throat felt thick and heavy as he struggled to speak. His limbs were lead, impossibly heavy and sluggish and overwhelmed with fatigue. Everything was slow to start today. God , he felt exhausted.

Nate sat down in a chair next to the bed, and Eliot pushed himself upright. He groaned, putting a hand to his head.

“You ok?” Nathan asked slowly.

“Ngh . . . water,” Eliot managed to croak out. “Could you get me some water?”

Nathan stood and rushed out of the room with a strange anxious energy. Eliot frowned. But Nate returned quickly, offering him a glass of water, and Eliot grabbed it gratefully and took a long, long drink.

Nathan waited for Eliot to finish before he spoke up again. “Eliot, I need to ask you some questions,” he said. “I need you to promise to be honest with me.”

Eliot just nodded, still frowning, still furrowing his brows. He was . . . confused. There was a heavy fog in his brain, and he struggled to parse through it. “Okay . . .”

“Well, first, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Eliot said. He took another drink, finishing off the glass. He winced, and rubbed his arm. “Everything’s sore, especially the arm–”

The bite, Nathan thought to himself, but didn’t dare interrupt right now.

Eliot paused, looking around. “I have no idea how I even got here.”

“What do you remember from last night?”

Nathan could see Eliot try to think. His brows were scrunched tight, a vicious thinking scowl on his face. But he also saw signs of confusion and disorientation. He had no idea how much Eliot would remember, if he’d remember anything at all.

Eliot was wracking his brain, but the events of last night refused to come to him. 

Ok, then work backwards, what was the last thing you remember?

He was at the office, working with Hardison, benched because of his bum arm–he changed the bandages on his arm, surprised it healed so fast–he was confined to the office, keeping out of sight of Laragan, now he was a target–he woke up, sicker than he had ever been–

“I called in sick . . .” Eliot began slowly. “It was the worst sickness I ever had. Nausea . . . and then it turned into muscle aches and pains . . . I could barely move, everything hurt so much–”

Another flash of a memory. Yellow eyes staring at him in the bathroom mirror.

Eliot felt his throat tighten.

Pain. More pain than he’d ever experienced in his life. Panic. He needed to move . Something was happening to him–

He was at a warehouse, chaining the doors shut, pleading that it would be enough–

Him screaming in agony as he felt the light of the full moon shine on him–

Eliot remembered enough, and cold, terrifying dread settled in his stomach. He turned and looked at Nate– really looked at him.

He could hear Nate’s heart thunder in his chest. Smell the sweat beading on his brow.

“You . . .” Eliot said slowly, realization dawning. “You were there. You saw me.”

Nathan hesitated, then nodded. “I was there last night. I . . . found you.”

The dread turned to terror and panic. His worst fears came barreling to the forefront of his mind. What if he hurt someone?! What if he killed them? What if he bit them?!  

“Nathan, I was trying to stay away from all of you–!”

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Nathan assured, raising a hand to calm Eliot. “You didn’t so much as touch anyone. Eliot, I swear, on my son’s grave, nothing happened to anyone last night.”

That was not a promise Nate made lightly and Eliot knew it. Still, it did very little to change the facts. They both knew the truth. Though Eliot couldn’t stomach saying it out loud, he knew what he was now. 

And for the safety of everyone else, he needed to get as far away from everyone as he possibly could.

“I’ll go,” Eliot said, pushing himself out of bed. “I’ll leave, and go somewhere no one will ever find me–”

“Eliot, you don’t have to go anywhere, we can help you–”

“How are you going to help me? Look at me, Nate! You know what I am!”

“I damn well know what you are!” Nathan said. “I saw you. And I also saw that even then, you wouldn’t hurt anyone. You recognized us, and you refused to hurt us.”

Eliot froze. “You– what? Nate, please don’t tell me–”

“Eliot,” Nathan said compassionately, putting his hands on his shoulders. “I don’t care what you are. But you are not a monster. You are still . . . Eliot.”

Eliot didn’t know what to say. He was overwhelmed. He expected anyone with any sense to run for the hills, screaming, maybe even shoot him, but here was Nate, who saw him, standing there and trying to tell him everything was going to be ok.

It was too much. He couldn’t think straight.

He brushed off Nate’s hands and stepped around him into the main office space. And right there, waiting for him, was the rest of his team.

His friends.

Sophie, Parker, and Hardison were all sitting on the sofas but stood as soon as Eliot entered. Eliot paused, looking at each and every one of them. Sophie had a look of trepidation and uncertainty, Parker was looking at Eliot with an odd bit of curiosity, while Hardison looked like he was holding back his temper by a thread. The silence stretched between them, none of them having any idea what to even say.

“So . . .” Parker finally said, breaking the silence. “You’re a werewolf.”

Eliot stared. Leave it up to Parker to be that blunt and that tactless. His reply was a single nod.

Parker nodded back. “Um . . . you looked . . . fluffy .”

“What?”

“Next time you change, can I pet you?”

“What?!”

“No one is petting anyone!” Hardison snapped. “Parker, you stay away from him. We still don’t know a damn thing about his lycanthropy.”

“We know he won’t hurt anyone. He didn’t hurt me,” Parker said.

“Wait, you were all there last night?” Eliot pressed. “You all saw me?!”

“Yeah, we saw you,” Hardison said tersely. “And when exactly were you planning on letting us know?”

“I didn’t know! Not until I had claws growing out of my hand!” Eliot said, waving his hand in front of his face.

“Ok, we are not fighting about this,” Sophie said, stepping between them. “Last night was . . . extremely stressful for everyone, especially Eliot, so we all need to take a breath and calm down–”

Eliot paused. In a way he couldn’t explain he . . . sensed something. Something was off.

He walked right past Sophie, out of the office and down the stairs.

“Eliot? Where are you going?” Sophie asked. “Please don’t run off, we need to talk about this–”

“Someone’s here,” Eliot said, his eyes glued to the front door of the restaurant. The others followed him downstairs, including Nathan. Eliot felt a deep growl build in his throat. “It’s Laragan.”

Nathan looked at Eliot. “How do you know?”

“I just . . . do.”

“Great, now Eliot’s Spider-Man,” Hardison said sarcastically. Eliot ignored him.

“Stay here,” Nathan ordered. He walked to the front door and unlocked it, cracking it open to see none other than Don Laragan standing right outside.

And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this man was responsible for what happened to Eliot.

“We’re closed,” Nathan said thinly.

“Mr. Harry Popandocolus!” Don grinned. He tilted his head. “I thought you ran a mine.”

“I have a side gig. We’re closed.”

“Oh, but I assure you, you’ll be wanting to speak with me. Is Eliot around?”

Nathan tried to keep calm. “And why do you want to know?”

“Because I have just been made aware he suffered a great tragedy. And I am here to make amends.” Don glanced over Nathan’s shoulder, his smile growing. “I know he’s here. And he knows I’m here. Let’s cut the farce and speak like gentlemen, shall we?”

Nathan didn’t so much as let Don in as Don muscled his own way through the door. Eliot stood at the corner of the bar, glaring down Don with his signature furious glare. Don approached, smiling.

“Eliot,” he said. “Don Laragan–”

“I know who you are,” Eliot said, a low growl in his voice. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t rip you to pieces right now.”

“I do admire that tenacity of yours. But you’re a young pup, freshly born.” Don’s eyes flashed with gold. “And I’m a wolf with a full life’s worth of experience.”

Don turned back around, addressing Eliot and Nathan both. “Let’s get everything all out in the open. I’m a werewolf, and Eliot here is now one, too. And I fear the one responsible for afflicting Eliot with such a terrible curse is a member of my pack.”

“You mean your gang?” Nathan asked.

“No, no, not a gang, my pack ,” Don said. “I lead a small group of fellow werewolves. I am their leader, their Alpha ; I keep them in line, I keep them in check, I curtail any vicious instincts that might make them do something dangerous or stupid.”

“Then you must be a pretty shitty alpha ,” Eliot spat.

“And you do know that whole ‘Alpha male’ stuff is total bullshit, right?” Hardison pointed out from a safe vantage at the top of the stairs. “Like, the lead researcher himself retracted his findings because he realized the study was completely bogus and not how wolves actually act in the wild.”

Don looked up at Hardison, scowling slightly. “Perhaps, but there’s still credence in having a designated leader to guide the pack, teach them, correct them when they misbehave. I do my best, I really do, but mistakes happen. The wolf is a feral beast that is hard to control and even with years of practice, the leash can slip. Which is why I am here now. I am here to offer my sincere condolences, and I am here to offer Eliot a place in my pack.”

“Forget it!” Eliot snarled. “There’s no way in hell I’m ever joining your stupid fucking pack.”

“I thought you might say that. So I also brought you a gift,” Don said, and he gestured back towards the door. In stepped a man with reddish-brown hair, his build skinny and wiry.

Eliot’s eyes shot open. He knew him. Y ellow eyes. White flashing teeth. 

Red-brown fur.

This was the one who bit him.

Eliot saw red. 

He crossed the restaurant in a fraction of a second and punched the weasley little bastard as hard as he could across the face. The man reeled, and Eliot grabbed him, throwing him across the room where he crashed down on a table, breaking it to pieces. The man was barely able to find his bearings before Eliot was back on him, delivering blow after blow across his face.

Nathan stepped forward to call Eliot off, but Don reached out, putting a hand on Nathan’s arm.

“A word of advice, Harry , if that even is your real name,” he said with a cruel grin. “ Never get in the middle of a fight between wolves. And besides, a lesson needs to be learned here.”

Eliot roared, actually roared as he bore down on the other wolf, punching him viciously, throwing him up against the walls, unleashing his full fury against him.

He did this to him. He was responsible for what he was now. He turned him into a monster!

But every punch he delivered only riled him further. Every blow stoked the fires of his anger, which only kept building and building. Eliot wanted this guy hurt . He wanted this bastard to feel every bit of pain, every bit of agony, every second of fear Eliot had endured the night before.

He wanted him DEAD–

He felt that anger reach a breaking point. It burned so hot in his chest he could feel it flood the rest of his body. Like lightning erupting in his very veins.

He pulled back his fist, only to see hair growing in thick. His hand spasmed, he heard his bones crack, and he saw his nails grow out into long, sharp claws. His chest seized for breath as he felt the same aching pain he experienced last night coursing through his body. He felt himself start to change once again.

Eliot let go, scrambling backwards. No . . . NO! He wasn’t going to turn back! He had to stop this!

“Eliot!” Nathan cried. He tried to rush towards him, but Don kept holding him fast.

“Don’t get too close, unless you want him to lash out, and then you’ll suffer the same fate as him–”

Nathan spun, pulling a gun out from underneath his jacket. He pressed it to Don’s forehead and he saw Don’s eyes go wide in shock.

“Let me go right now or I blow your brains all over this bar,” Nathan warned.

Don released, holding his hands up in surrender.

Nathan ran to Eliot’s side. Eliot was curled up into the corner, head in his hands, his body shaking as he struggled for control.

“Stay back!” Eliot warned. Fur coated his arms and legs, his nails replaced with claws. “Don’t–just stay away–!”

“Eliot Spencer, you listen to me,” Nathan said, kneeling right by his side. “You are better than this. You will not let this thing in your head get the better of you.”

Eliot cried out in pain, lurching forward onto his hands and knees. Nathan reached out, cupping Eliot’s face in his hands, and he forced Eliot to look him in the eye.

“You did not hurt us last night, you will not hurt us now!” Nathan demanded. “You are Eliot Spencer, and you are the most honorable man I know . You are my friend. And you will not lose control. You are stronger than this, and you are better than this. You are in control, Eliot. You. And no one else.”

He stared right into Eliot’s eyes, now golden, now wild with primal fear. Eliot shuddered for breath, his whole body shaking as he fought back his own anger.

“Breathe. Just breathe. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” Nathan encouraged. “Just breathe. Close your eyes and breathe .”

Eliot did so, forcing him to breathe deep. It all hurt, just like the night before, but he needed to focus. He needed to breathe. Long, deep, slow breaths, no matter how much his chest hurt, no matter the stabbing pain in his ribs. 

In. Out. In. And out.

He had to let go of his anger. He had to regain control. 

He will not turn back into that beast. He was Eliot. He was in control. He will not turn. He will not lose control.

In. Out.

And he felt the pain fade. He felt the changes slowly revert, the fur and claws disappearing and his eyes returning to their normal blue color. And with all the anger faded from his body, there was nothing left and he nearly collapsed from exhaustion, but Nathan was there to catch him, hugging him tight.

“There you go. You did it,” Nathan said. “See? You did it.”

Eliot closed his eyes, exhaustion once again taking him as he slumped against Nate. 

A slow, sarcastic clap echoed behind them. Nathan turned, rising back to his feet and helping Eliot back onto his. Eliot still leaned heavily on Nate before bracing against the wall. Don Laragan looked on, clapping, his little crony crawling back to his side.

“Impressive. But how long will your luck hold out?” he asked. “You think a human like you can keep a wild animal like him in check?”

“I think I’ll take my chances on my own rather than let Eliot walk off with you,” Nathan said.

“Oh? You’re really so reckless as to risk it all by yourself?” Don asked. “Do you even have any idea what you’re dealing with? Do you know how to handle the monster that now lives in his head? Do you have any idea how to control it?” He scoffed. “No. You don’t. How could you? Until last night, you didn’t even know monsters like him existed . You need someone with training and experience to guide him. You need the firm hand of a tried and true Alpha. Otherwise . . .” His gaze fell to Sophie, Hardison, and Parker. “Who can speak to the safety of them? Who can guarantee they won’t end up exactly like him?”

Nathan stiffened. He already failed Eliot. He refused to fail anyone else.

“Get out,” Nathan spat.

“I’m just giving you a friendly warning. All it takes is one mistake. One second when your guard is down, and then it’s all over. Would your friend there be able to live with himself with all that blood on his hands?”

Nathan pulled back out the gun, pressing it once more to Don’s head.

“I won’t ask again. Get. Out.”

Don didn’t look remotely intimidated. He was calling Nate’s bluff. “Here’s another freebie for you: unless the bullet in that gun of yours is silver, it won’t kill me.”

“Maybe not,” Nate said. He lowered his gun, jamming the muzzle into Don’s groin. That made him stiffen in alarm, his eyes widening in a split second of panic. “I bet it still hurts like a sonofabitch, though.”

Don’s jaw clenched, and he backed away, heading towards the exit. “You’ll need me. You can’t handle him on your own! He needs an Alpha!” He looked at Parker and pointed a single finger at her. “And, you , little miss, have been snooping where you shouldn’t have been. Come into my house uninvited again, and next time you won’t be so lucky to leave unscathed.”

Nate didn’t reply as Don and his crony stormed out. Once they were gone, he made sure the door was locked tight.

“You wanna know the worst part of all this?”

Nathan turned back around, where Eliot was still braced against the wall, one arm wrapped around his stomach. He limped forward, wincing.

“He’s right,” Eliot said. “Right now, I’m just a ticking time bomb. We don’t know anything. And I’m not going to put any of you in harm’s way.”

“You can’t seriously be thinking about taking up his offer,” Sophie said. “That man is a menace!”

“No, I’m not going with him,” Eliot snarled. “But . . . I can’t stay here with you. I won’t put any of you in danger. But there’s no one else who can help me–”

“There is, actually,” Nathan said. “Everyone, back upstairs. I know Don’s game.”

Chapter Text

Nathan ushered them back up the stairs to their office. He even offered to give Eliot a hand, but Eliot refused, pulling himself up with the handrail one step at a time. Once everyone was settled, Nathan went to the TV screens and computers, starting them up, while everyone else took a seat, Eliot sitting as far away from everyone else as he could.

“Before we knew what was really going on, we were scrambling for the right pieces for the right puzzle, and now, we found the keystone that tells us everything. And the big picture is actually stupidly simple,” Nate began. He pulled up a picture of Don and the operating areas of his survey company. “Don Laragan. Self-made man. Also a werewolf, and apparently in charge of his own pack. I think it’s safe to assume the four men with him who beat up Lee are also werewolves, so he has a pack of at least five strong. He owns a company on a hundred acres of woodland. Wants even more land to the west. Why? What’s so special about this land?”

“It’s federally protected?” Hardison offered.

“Because wolves are territorial, and the more land to roam, the better. No, what’s really stopping Don from taking that land?”

There was a pause, and Nathan filled in the blank. He pulled up a map with a red dot, conveniently placed between Don’s company territory and the forest.

“Because Lee Thriggs lives here ,” Nate said, pointing to the dot.

Realization dawned on Eliot. “Lee . . . he’s also a werewolf.”

“It’s all so stupidly obvious now, isn’t it?” Nate said. “Their businesses have nothing to do with each other, that was a red herring, and even their military connections were a red herring. No, Don knows Lee is a werewolf, and he’s going for the more ‘diplomatic’ approach. ‘Join me and we’ll rule this land together.’ But Lee has no interest in joining Don’s pack, so Don’s methods get more and more aggressive.”

“What’s stopping Don from just running Lee out of town? Or killing him?” Parker asked. 

“Great question. Self restraint? Maybe he doesn’t want to kill Lee.”

“He has no problem roughing him up, though,” Eliot added grimly.

“Yeah, well, there’s a world of difference between a few punches and full-on killing,” Nathan said. “And who’s to say Don won’t escalate if Lee continues to reject Don’s offer? No, Don needs more man-power. Or . . . wolf-power, in this case.”

He turned to Eliot, looking at him pointedly.

“Don Laragan intentionally sent one of his men to bite you, so he could then recruit you,” Nathan said. “Maybe Don’s own military experience recognized you as a fellow veteran, maybe he just saw how well you took on four of his men at once, so he then decided he needed you on his team. So he bit you.”

“Well, that’s a sucky recruitment strategy,” Parker glowered. “How was that supposed to work?”

“It’s a common strategy that gangs use to recruit more members. They rough them up, they isolate them, they make them feel like they’re alone in the world, and then the recruit gets desperate. They feel they have no one else to turn to, so they’re easily manipulated to join the gang. For some people, there’s nothing worse than being alone,” Nathan explained. “Don used the same tactic, just . . . modified a bit. And it would have worked, if not for one crucial thing.”

He pointed once more to Eliot.

“He severely underestimated you.”

“It still doesn’t solve our one big, glaring issue,” Eliot said. “Don is right. We don’t know anything about how to–how to deal with me. There’s all those stories out there, but how do we know what’s true? And I’m not going to sit around here and wait and keep putting any of you in more danger.”

“You still think you’re dangerous,” Nate said. “Hm. Odd. Let me ask you something, Eliot. Why did Don show up today?”

Eliot stared blankly at him. “To . . . recruit me?”

“Right, but why today? Why right now? And why did he bring the guy who actually bit you?”

“To offer me ‘help’ and get his stupid little recruitment scheme going,” Eliot said viciously.

“True, but you’re missing the biggest piece. Don said he brought his little friend so ‘a lesson could be learned.’ What lesson is that?”

“That I’m dangerous,” Eliot said bitterly.

“Correct. But! That lesson wasn’t for you. It was for us,” Nate said. “Don needed to not only convince Eliot he needed Don’s help, he needed to convince the rest of us that Eliot is now a savage, bloodthirsty, wild animal that only Don could control. And what better way to convince us than by showing us?”

Nate leaned forward. “Think about it. It’s the day after the full moon. Eliot just experienced one of the worst days of his life, if not the worst. He’s lost, he’s confused, he doesn’t know what’s happened, he doesn’t even know who he is anymore. Eliot is extremely emotionally charged right now. He’s vulnerable. So Don comes in for the kill. He comes barging into our home, barely giving us time to get our heads straight, before he practically throws the one responsible for all of this right at Eliot’s feet. And seeing him, how could Eliot react any differently than how he did? Don knew that. He was counting on it. So we could see this ‘savage animal’ Don was trying so hard to sell us.”

“And you did . . .” Eliot bitterly said under his breath.

“No. No we didn’t,” Nathan said, standing in front of Eliot and looking down right at him. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He spun around, going back to the computer and pulling up a video file. “Let me tell you what happened last night. I had a suspicion of what was really going on, but I . . . couldn’t find the words to explain it to the rest of the team. I went to find you, because I needed to make sure you were safe. We found where you hid yourself, and . . .” He took a breath. “Look, it’s my fault. I was being cagey, I couldn't answer anyone’s questions, I let their minds fill in the blanks–”

“I went in after you,” Parker finished, though she was staring at the floor and couldn’t meet Eliot’s gaze. “I was scared you were in trouble, and I completely ignored Nate when he told me to get out. So I went to get you. Because you would have done the same for me.”

Eliot stared at Parker. “Did I–I didn’t–” he stuttered, barely able to manage the courage to ask. 

Parker finally looked up at him. She let out a faint smile and shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Let me show you,” Nate said, playing Parker’s video from last night. It showed Parker slowly working around the warehouse, finding the ripped clothes and overturned cooler. Eliot straightened as he realized what he was watching.

The tape kept playing, and when the video was about to show the moment when Parker discovered the werewolf, Eliot stood, turning away from the TVs. Nate stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“You need to see this. Trust me.”

Reluctantly, Eliot turned back around, watching the video. It played on, and time slowed to a crawl as the werewolf was revealed.

Him.

The world froze as Eliot saw the beast– him. What he became, what he was. Part of Eliot couldn’t stomach to watch, but another part couldn’t turn away. It was hard to believe what he was seeing was him. It was hard to believe that just the night before, that was him.

Nathan watched Eliot carefully. He couldn’t imagine what Eliot must be feeling or thinking. But he could at least guide some of those thoughts to more optimistic perspectives.

“Sophie, you’re a master at reading people,” he said. “But how are you at reading animals?”

Sophie strode up to Eliot’s side, leaning against the couch, head tilted pensively. “I would say I’m not too shabby at reading animal cues. Never know when you’ll run into a client with a pet and you need to appease them and the client all at the same time.”

“So what do you see right now?” Nate asked, leading her on.

“I see . . . an animal at ease. See, look at the ears. They’re not completely upright, they’re slightly to the side, not facing straight forward. That’s indicative that the wolf sees something that it doesn’t perceive as a threat, or even anything of interest. It sees something familiar. And look, it strides forward very deliberately, but it’s not aggressive, no, it’s just sniffing the air. Because that’s how wolves greet each other, by scent. And, of course, we all know how sensitive a wolf’s nose and ears are, there’s no way Parker snuck up on it. It knew Parker was there long before it even saw her. Parker’s good, but not that good.”

“And all it was interested in was the bone it was chewing,” Nate noted.

“Parker backs away, but the wolf isn’t reacting with any aggression or hostility. Just curiosity.”

Nate paused the video, watching Eliot carefully. Eliot’s face is a complicated mix of emotions, too many and too difficult to name. But Nate knew the next few moments of the video would upset him immensely.

“Now, Eliot, what I show you next–I need you to keep in mind that no one got hurt. What I show you next is the exact sort of thing Don expected you to see of yourself, but I want you to remember above all else that even in these next few moments, you didn’t hurt anyone.”

Eliot’s eyes tore away from the screen to stare wide-eyed and anxious at Nathan. “Why? What happened?”

Nate took a second, letting Eliot prepare himself, and then he resumed the video.

In what seemed to be completely out of the blue, like someone flipped on a lightswitch, the wolf began to snarl and growl with a savagery and ferocity that Eliot had never seen before. It snapped its jaws, it flashed its fangs, it slashed its claws in the air. Eliot lurched away, barely able to watch.

This was him now. This was what he became.

A monster.

Nathan only let it play for a second before he paused it again.

“Isn’t it odd how you just suddenly snapped?” Nathan noted curiously. “What would make an animal lash out like that?”

Eliot hardly dared to speak. Because it’s not a wild animal, it’s nothing more than a savage, blood-thirsty monster–

“Well, what we can’t see from the angle of the camera is that Parker did something to provoke you,” Nate went on. “She pulled out a weapon and pointed it at you.”

Eliot paused. He once again looked back to Nate, who nodded encouragingly. 

“You know Parker always likes carrying her taser around with her everywhere she goes. And in a moment of panic, she did what she thought she had to do to defend herself. And conversely, so did you.”  Nathan pointed to the screen, and Eliot reluctantly followed his gaze. “This was your way of warning Parker to stop. I mean, sure, you look big and scary and all snarly and angry. But it’s all a show. It’s a warning. Think. If you really wanted to harm her, would you have let a puny taser stop you?”

Eliot didn’t say anything. He was still wrapped up in his own complicated emotions as he watched the events of last night unfold.

Nate played the video on. The confrontation continued, and though muffled, they could hear the exchange between Nate and Parker, with Nate demanding Parker to drop the taser. And when she did, the snarling and growling just . . . stopped.

Just like that.

Eliot paused.

“There. Confrontation over. Parker demonstrated she no longer intends to harm you, so you stop. That's all there was,” Nate assured.

Eliot just shook his head, numb and reeling. “I–I could have–” he choked out.

“You could have, if you wanted to,” Sophie said gently. “But you didn’t. Because you didn’t want to. Oh! And this is my favorite part.”

The camera suddenly jolted and lurched as Parker tripped. And there, for just a fraction of a second, they saw the wolf’s expression. Sophie paused, focusing on that.

“There. You see that? Now the wolf’s ears are peaked high and alert, facing forward. It rushes towards Parker! But not to attack her. It’s concerned.”

The video kept playing, and although they couldn’t see much from Parker’s crouched position, they could still hear her breathing heavily with panicked sobs. They could hear the snorts as the wolf sniffed her.

Eliot heard the wolf whine.

And slowly, Parker straightened. “Eliot?” she called out. The wolf was hovering above her. Not attacking her. Nudging her. Checking to see if she was ok.

Sophie too looked back to Eliot, a grin on her lips. She could see the gears turning in his head. “I swear I can see its tail wagging ever so slightly . . .”

“Tail?” Eliot choked out.

“I’m also not seeing any snarling or growling or barred teeth anymore . . .” Nate went on.

“Well, you do see a little bit of that,” Sophie conceded, and they reached the point in the video where Parker extended her hand forward, trying to pet the werewolf, and the wolf gave her a warning growl, flashing its teeth. 

Eliot flinched. 

The wolf then turned and stalked off out of sight.

“See? That was it. A short, quick, polite warning, which Parker respected,” Sophie said triumphantly. “You check to make sure Parker’s ok, and she is, and she tries to pet you, but it really is you because we all know how you are with physical affection, so you give her a quick and clear warning no, don’t touch me. And that’s it.” 

“Hardly seems like something you’d call ‘bloodthirsty’ or ‘vicious.’” Nathan turned back to Eliot. “Do you get it now? Everything Don tried to sell you was a load of crap. Or, maybe a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe he needed you to believe it so then you’d become it. But he doesn’t know that we know the truth. We saw you. And you’re no monster. You’re our Eliot.”

Eliot’s eyes were glued to the screen. Everything he saw was indicative of something inhumanly strong, powerful, fast, deadly. A beast that could have torn Parker to pieces if it wanted to.

And yet . . . Parker was right there, sitting next to him, completely unharmed.

They looked at each other, and even Parker was smiling at him. Eliot took a deep breath, steadying himself.

“You ok?”

“I’m ok,” she reassured. “I promise.”

Eliot nodded. He felt a great wave of relief wash over him. He was . . . so furious with Parker for doing something so reckless, but also so unbelievably grateful nothing happened to her. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if anything happened to her because of him.

“We still need to know more,” Eliot said. “I need to know more.”

“That’s alright. Because Don’s not the only werewolf in town,” Nathan said.

“Lee,” Eliot said. He sighed, shaking his head. “He’s going to be furious.”

“Maybe. But we know he cares. He’ll help. Let’s go talk to him.”

****

Lee’s residence was nothing fancy. His apartment was modest, discreet, and nestled in a complex a fair distance away from any major roads. Nathan and Eliot approached, taking it in.

“He’ll know as soon as you open the door,” Eliot warned.

“The same way you knew Laragan was at the restaurant?” Nate asked.

Eliot nodded. “It’s a distinct smell.”

Nathan took a breath, stepped up to the door, and knocked.

They waited a moment, then two, then several more moments that indicated Lee had no interest in answering his door. Nathan knocked again, louder this time.

“Lee? You home? My name’s Nathan Ford, I need to speak with you,” he called out, knocking again.

“He could still be out of commission,” Eliot said. “If he was feeling what I was feeling this morning, the last thing he wants to do is get out of bed.”

“No, I think he’ll answer. We just need to be persistent. He’ll answer just to get us to shut up.” He knocked again, hard enough that he was nearly punching down the door. “Mr. Thriggs? You home?”

“What?!”

The door suddenly slammed open, revealing a very disgruntled, very disheveled Lee. He was glaring furiously at Nate, but only for a split second before his attention slipped off him and onto Eliot. He paused, his face going slack and his skin turning pale.

Eliot stared back, but couldn’t help but fidget uncomfortably under Lee’s scrutiny. There it was again, that sense, that same recognition he saw in Laragan, now in Lee.

And Lee saw it in him.

“Get inside,” was all Lee said, standing behind the door and ushering them in. Nathan and Eliot stepped inside, and Lee slammed the door shut right behind them.

Lee turned around, staring at Eliot. There was shock, hurt, guilt, and fear all rolled into one. There was a great sadness and a great anger, and in that turmoil, he struggled with what to even say.

Eliot dipped his head. “Lee, I need your help–”

“I told you to stay away from Laragan,” Lee said, his voice thick. “It’s my fault–I should have looked for you, I should have made sure–”

“It’s not your fault–”

“Why didn’t you listen?” Lee pressed. “You should have just ran! Why didn’t you run?!”

“The only one to blame here is Laragan,” Nathan said, speaking up. “He’s the one who chased after Eliot. He’s the one who sent one of his men to hurt him.”

Lee rubbed a hand over his face, biting back tears of anger and frustration. “I told you they were dangerous. I tried to warn you, and you didn’t listen.  And now . . . now you’re cursed.”

“Which is why we came to you,” Nathan said. “Look, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to discover that you and Eliot share the same affliction. And now we need your help. We need to know, well, everything you do. This isn’t your fault, and it’s not Eliot’s. But now we need to handle this before anyone else gets hurt. Please.”

Lee laughed bitterly. “Then you’ve come to the wrong person. I–I am the worst teacher you can have if you’re hoping to learn anything about being a werewolf.”

“But you still know more than we do, which is nothing. And it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I accept Don’s offer to join his little monster squad,” Eliot said.

Lee furrowed his brows. “Don spoke to you?”

“He came by our place just this morning and offered Eliot a place in his pack. Obviously we turned him down,” Nate explained. 

“I can’t help you,” Lee said.

“Can’t, or won’t?” Nathan pressed.

“Look, I barely have a handle on myself. I can’t be the one to help you,” Lee said. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re all we have,” Nathan urged. “And if you want our help making sure Don Laragan never bothers you again, we’re first going to need your help with Eliot.”

Lee looked to Eliot, and he could see the conflict on the reporter’s face. He wanted to help, he did, but there was a great deal of self doubt and self loathing. He doubted his own ability to help someone else when he struggled so hard to help himself.

“You said you found yourself in a unique position, in that you can give people second chances to those that deserve them,” Eliot said. “I was given a second chance when I found Nate and joined his crew. I found my place helping others. And now, I’ll be forced to go away if I can’t figure this out. I need to figure this out, and the only way I can do that is with your help. Please. I don’t want to lose them.”

Lee looked him over. He took a long moment to think, but with a heavy sigh, he slowly nodded his head.

“I . . . I can try,” he relented. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all we ask.”

“I just . . . where do I even start?” Lee said. He went to his kitchen table and gestured for Nate and Eliot to sit, which they did. Lee had some coffee brewing, and poured each of them a cup before sitting down himself. Eliot took it with a grateful nod.

“I guess we start at the beginning,” Nathan offered. “Lycanthropy. Werewolves. It’s all real. So how did it begin? And how has it remained a secret all these years?”

“The answers to those questions are long and complicated, and not even I know the full answer to them,” Lee admitted. “In short, there’s not many werewolves around anymore. Most were killed back in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, and whatever small pockets remained kept a very low, very secretive profile. And people like the status quo; if anyone sees anything odd or unusual, how likely are they to just wave it away or completely ignore it?” He looked at Eliot. “How long did it take for you to accept the inevitable?”

Eliot nodded in understanding. “Until it was staring me right in the face and I couldn’t deny it any longer.”

Nathan understood the phenomenon well enough. It was drilled into a person’s head from years of social conditioning to not cause a scene, to mind your own business, to keep your head down and not pay too close attention to something odd or strange. Nathan used that same principle to run so many of his cons. People liked normalcy. And even when an oddity stared them right in the face, they were all too eager to make excuses for it or forget it ever happened.

“First of all, is there even a cure?” Eliot asked. He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. If there was a chance he could just . . . not be what he was anymore– “If there’s any way to reverse it–”

“There’s no cure for lycanthropy. Believe me, I’ve tried everything,” Lee said dejectedly. “Every ridiculous remedy from every possible source, I’ve tried them all. Nothing works. Nothing undoes what happened. If I had found you when you got bitten, maybe–and this is a big maybe–we could have cleaned the wound, flushed it, tried to purge it from your body before it could take root. But . . . you’ve turned. Once you turn, that’s it. The curse has set in. You’re a full-blooded werewolf, and there’s no going back from that.”

Eliot stared down at his coffee mug. It was a daunting thing that Lee was telling him, and he looked at his arm. The wound may have healed and left behind terrible scars, but it still occasionally ached with a dull, throbbing pain. Lee saw him staring and followed his gaze. He hesitantly reached out.

“Um, may I?” Lee asked. 

Eliot wordlessly extended his arm to Lee, who carefully took it by his wrist and slowly turned it over, examining the bite. And again Eliot could see Lee’s expression of regret, grief, and sympathy.

“Which one bit you?” Lee asked.

Eliot shrugged. “The skinny weasley one with red hair.”

“Cory,” Lee said with recognition. “Don’s right hand man. He’s the most loyal to him, and Don trained him well to sit, stay, and shit on command.”

“Yeah, but that brings up an interesting point,” Nathan said slowly. “See, when this Cory guy bit Eliot, we initially mistook him for just a really big dog. But we know what Eliot looks like, and there’s no way we could have mistaken what we saw for ‘just a really big dog.’”

“Right, the wolf form,” Lee nodded. “Supposedly, a werewolf who has true control over themselves and has fully embraced the wolf can then take on the form of a wolf whenever they want. I haven’t managed it myself, but I’m not surprised the guys in Don’s pack can.”

“So you can turn into a werewolf and just a regular wolf?” Nathan clarified.

“I mean, you’re still a werewolf no matter what you look like, but, yes, I get what you’re saying.” Lee nodded. “You turn into a werewolf every full moon, there's no avoiding that. But you can also turn outside the full moon, with the right triggers. If you’re highly stressed, or agitated, or if your life is in peril, instinct will kick in and you’ll change.”

Eliot and Nathan shared a knowing look.

Lee sighed. “I have no idea how Don does it–but I think a lot of his methods are straight bullshit. I tried to ask him more about this whole wolf thing–”

“So you’ve spoken to Don in the past?” Eliot asked.

Lee glanced at him reluctantly. “A little over five years ago, I came back to the states after working overseas. I was looking for somewhere I could settle down, somewhere relatively secluded where I could still write but be left alone. I thought I found a good place to live here. And it was good, for a while. But I ran into Don one day by pure chance, and we both knew, you know, so we started to talk. He was friendly, and patient. Compassionate. I . . . had to figure out a lot of things on my own, and I finally thought I could get some real answers from him.”

“It was all a farce, of course,” Lee said bitterly. “Don was stringing me along, giving me answers but saying just little enough so I kept coming back for more. Then he made his offer. ‘Join my pack.’ I had no interest in that, and I told him so. I didn’t want a pack. I just wanted answers, and I wanted to live my own life. He told me werewolves don’t work that way. I either join his pack or secede my ‘territory’ and get run out. So I planted my feet and refused.”

“Why didn’t you want to join his pack?” Nathan asked.

“I always got a weird feeling from him. Sure, he was being nice, but I was getting the sense he was scheming, and when he started pressing me, I knew my hunch was right. After that, I knew I couldn’t trust his intent. Was he really trying to help me, or was this some sort of power play?” Lee explained. “And it was only confirmed further when I offered him the choice that we both go our separate ways. I stayed on my side of the forest, he stayed on his, and we could just leave each other alone. But Don did not like that.”

“So it’s not just gangs that are territorial,” Eliot remarked, which got a chuckle from Lee.

“I guess not,” he said. “And ever since, it’s been a constant barrage from him. First it was nearly biweekly ‘meetings,’ and now more recently . . . it’s gotten physical. Don thinks he can wear me down, but I’m a stubborn asshole. I’m not letting him push me around.”

He sat back in his chair, taking a long drink from his coffee.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I never wanted anyone getting involved. I just . . . I wish I never met you at that cafe,” Lee lamented.

Eliot sighed. “I have a confession of my own to make. You know how I said my job is helping people? Well, Nate and I, we’re on a team, and we consult people with problems they can’t solve on their own. And our most recent job was from a coworker of yours, worried that you were in trouble.”

Lee’s eyes shot open. “Valorie–”

“And this is not her fault, either,” Nate said firmly. “She is a good person doing what any other good person would do. She saw someone she knew was in trouble, and she reached out for help.”

“She called us,” Eliot explained. “We were the ones looking into you and trying to figure out what was going on.”

Lee buried his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. “A few days ago, I noticed someone broke into my apartment. Nothing was taken, but I knew someone was there. Was that you?!”

“Yes, it was another member of my crew,” Nathan explained with an apologetic wince. “To be fair, she wasn’t supposed to break in, she was just going to do a perimeter check, but she can be a bit . . . spontaneous. Look, I’m really sorry, but we had to cover all our bases.”

Lee was looking none too thrilled about this latest revelation, and Eliot didn’t blame him. “Well, now you know. Happy?”

“I know we went into this blind, but I still intend on keeping our promise to Valorie, and that’s helping you,” Nate said. “We can help you get Don off your back. But to do that, first we’ll need your help.”

“And how exactly do you intend to get Don off my back?” Lee asked angrily.

“Everyone has a weak point, even Don. And we already know a fair bit about him. We just need your help filling in the blanks when it comes to werewolves,” Nate said.

“We’re good at what we do. We’ve taken down some of the worst criminals on the planet,” Eliot said. “And we’ll take down Don, too.”

Lee sighed. “He needs to pay. What he did to you was beyond cruel.” There was a fierce gleam in his eye. “Don needs to go down for what he did.”

He knocked back his cup of coffee and walked off.  “Meet me at the national park in two hours. Bring a bag of extra clothes, and wear something you won’t mind getting ruined.”

****

Eliot insisted on going alone for a multitude of reasons. One, he had no idea what Lee had planned, so he wasn’t going to have anyone else on the team interfering in any more of this werewolf business, and two, he didn’t want anyone staring and watching him during whatever he and Lee were going to get up to.

He had a few ideas, though. 

He arrived right when Lee asked him to, heading for a rarely-used turn-off where one other car was parked. Lee was already outside his car, waiting, and nodded to Eliot as he approached. Eliot grabbed his bag and followed Lee down the trails into the heart of the forest. Accessing this more remote side of the park, the trail was little more than a faint path carved through the thickets, and many times they lost the path completely. But that was alright; they didn’t want to be anywhere close to any main trails.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Eliot asked.

“Today is your very first day of werewolf training,” Lee responded. “Everything I know was learned after years of trial and error, and what works for me might not necessarily work for you, but I know for a fact what doesn’t work, so we’ll start there.”

“Okay,” Eliot said slowly. “So what doesn’t work?”

“Brute force. Violence. Trying to cage the wolf,” Lee said. “Only so long you can beat a dog before it bites back. I learned that the hard way. But first, if you could indulge my curiosity, I have to know, what did you do last night? I mean, before you turned? Where did you go?”

“I knew of some empty warehouses down by the docks, I had a few chains in my garage, so I loaded up a cooler with all the meat I had in my freezer, drove over, and locked myself inside,” Eliot said.

Lee stared. Eliot couldn’t tell if he was dumbfounded or impressed. Maybe both. “You managed to pack up a cooler of meat?”

“A fed dog is a happy dog. I learned that after my fair share of run-ins with guard dogs,” Eliot explained.

“I’m just . . . shocked you had the wherewithal to even think of that.”

“By the time it finally clicked what was happening, I knew I had to make a choice. So I ran the odds in my head. What were the consequences if I was wrong, but didn’t act? Nothing. What were the consequences if I was wrong but did act? I’d make an idiot of myself but nothing else would happen. But what if I was right? What if I was right and I didn’t take proper action? Then a lot of people would get hurt, or even killed. And I couldn’t have that blood on my conscience. I had to make the right choice and act fast. So I did.”

Now there was no masking how impressed Lee was with Eliot. “That alone is commendable, I want you to know that.”

“It came from years of training. I had it drilled into my head to always make the smart choice, even in total chaos,” Eliot said.

Lee tilted his head. “You served.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “I did. I have extensive military training, and I saw a lot of action. I guess that’s why Don wanted me so bad,” Eliot said. “And I know you were overseas, too, writing.”

Lee nodded, but didn’t reply.

“Is . . . is that when you were bitten?” Eliot guessed. “You were overseas and somewhere in the chaos, you were bitten by a werewolf?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Lee said, letting out a quiet laugh. “No, I was born one. My mother, she . . . had a fling with a guy she barely knew. It was a one-time thing and he took off, and then surprise, surprise, nine months later, I was born. My mother tried to find my birth-father, but it wasn’t easy to find people back then, and she didn’t have the resources to pursue it. So I grew up with an absent dad who probably doesn’t know I even exist.”

Lee closed his eyes. “Lycanthropy sits dormant until you hit puberty, and you can change at any time. I . . . first turned when I was thirteen. I had . . . no idea what was happening to me. Neither did my mother.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliot offered.

“She locked me in the basement. It was the best she could do at that point. And every month, I’d go down into that basement and chain myself to the wall,” Lee said, his voice distant and numb. “I . . . hated what I was. I didn’t understand it. And it’s not like you can just find help. We had to figure it out. It was a miracle my mother survived it after all this time, let alone unbitten.”

“How did you manage it?” Eliot asked gently.

“Manage? I didn’t manage anything. I suppressed it. I kept it locked up tight for years and years. I chained myself up, threw away the key, and tried to deny it was even there.” He turned to Eliot, a deathly serious look in his eye. “But I didn’t know that was the absolute worst thing I could have done.”

They reached a small clearing where the trees had thinned, and Lee tossed down his own bag. Eliot did the same.

“I’m here so you can learn from my mistakes. So you don’t do what I did.”

“You know, if I had the chains to spare, I would have done the same thing and chained myself to the wall,” Eliot began, but Lee cut him off.

“And that is a blessing in disguise that you didn’t do that,” Lee said. “There’s nothing the wolf hates more than being imprisoned. If you had done that, you would have seriously pissed it off.”

“But I still locked myself in a warehouse. How’s that not a cage?”

“Well, think of that as the difference between a zoo enclosure and a dog kennel,” Lee explained with an uncertain shrug. “The point is the wolf didn’t feel trapped. And you fed it. You were right: a fed wolf is a happy wolf. You made him happy. Which is already a huge step in the right direction.”

“Sounds like I already have a leg up. Lucky me.”

“You have no idea. But we still have a long way to go. So. My next question for you: Have you yet to say it out loud?”

“Say what out loud?”

Lee stood directly in front of Eliot and met him eye to eye. “‘I am a werewolf.’”

Eliot raised an eyebrow, then huffed in disbelief. “Yeah, I know.”

“So say it. Out loud.”

“Why? What’s the point, I know –”

“Because when you say it out loud, it becomes real,” Lee said. “There’s something about putting it out into the world and making yourself hear those words that makes it really sink in. You changed last night. You know what happened. But can you accept what happened?”

“Of course I have! I’m talking to you and asking for your help, aren’t I? I saw a video taken of me last night, I saw what I became!” Eliot yelled fiercely.

“Video? You have video–?!” Lee said, then shook his head, ignoring that for the moment. “Look, you need to trust me on this. You have to move past the ‘denial’ stage and accept it. And once you accept it, you can then embrace it.”

“I’m not embracing anything,” Eliot snarled.

That proved to be the wrong thing to say, judging by the furious expression on Lee’s face.

“Do you want my help or not?” he demanded. “Or was all that moaning about needing my help nothing more than lip service?!”

Eliot stuttered. “No, I want your help–”

“Then start taking this seriously! Or next time you change, you won’t be so lucky! You can and will hurt people!” Lee stormed up to Eliot, staring him down. 

Lee was a very tall, scrawny guy and easily stood a good few inches above Eliot. It had always been a joke amongst the team that for being the designated muscle, Eliot was the shortest member in their group. But this was one of a handful of times Eliot felt genuinely small in the face of a furious presence.

He could see flecks of gold in Lee’s eyes.

“Say it. I need you to say it. Out loud,” Lee demanded.

Eliot inhaled a deep breath through his nose. This was ridiculous. He already knew, just saying it wouldn’t change a damn thing. 

So why was his voice falling apart in his throat?

He swallowed hard. He stuttered. His voice came out as a whisper as the words were choked from his mouth. “I’m–I’m a werewolf.”

“Louder.”

“I’m a werewolf!”

Those words were like a weight suddenly dropped on his chest. Those simple words pierced him in a way no weapon ever could, cutting him right to the quick. And it all just . . . fell on him, what those words meant.

He was a werewolf. His life would be forever changed. There was no going back.

No more flings. No more moonlit nights. No more of the normalcy he now found peace in. His entire world now revolved around the thing that now lived within him.

He was a werewolf.

He stared down at his hands. The scars on his arm burned.

He was a goddamn werewolf.

Lee looked at him, his eyes softening. “Hits you like a freight train, doesn’t it?”

Eliot felt the strength leave his legs and he slumped against a tree, sliding to the ground, one hand covering his face. It was impossible to put into words just why he was feeling the way he was, despite knowing, despite seeing everything. But it was just like Lee said: when he said those words out loud, it finally felt . . . real.

And Eliot no longer felt any certainty in what the future held for him.

Lee sat on the ground beside him, patiently waiting for Eliot to ride out the storm of emotions. 

“I spent so long hating the wolf, and I had no idea just how destructive that was,” Lee said quietly. “By hating the wolf, I was hating a part of myself. And by the time I realized what I was doing was wrong, the damage was done, and it was a long, long road to undo the hurt I had inflicted. And even now, I still don’t know if I’m there yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully make amends. But right now, you have a clean slate. And you cannot afford to mar that slate with any mistakes.”

Lee looked back out into the woods. “There’s something else you need to realize. You told me this wasn’t my fault. And it’s not your fault. So neither is it the wolf’s fault.” He paused and let Eliot parse through his words. “The wolf didn’t get a choice in this any more than you did. It’s here now, through no fault of its own. You are only hurting yourself by hating it or fearing it. That’s why it is so crucial for you to accept it and not waste your time in denial.”

Eliot leaned his head back against the tree, staring off into space. “How can I deny it after all this?” he asked. His voice was faint and distant, still reeling.

“There’s different ways of denial. There’s flat-out rejection, where you just refuse to accept the facts. And then there’s ignoring and suppressing. Sure, you know you’re a werewolf, but you refuse to realize what that means. You keep insisting you can lead a perfectly normal life without any concessions, just take one day of the month off to ‘be’ a werewolf. But it doesn’t work like that. You need to make accommodations for it, and not just one day a month, but every day. You are a werewolf every single day, and your life needs to compensate for that.”

“No going back . . .” Eliot muttered.

Lee looked at Eliot, once again with sympathy. “No.”

Eliot exhaled, letting his arms rest on his knees and his hands clasping each other. He had a lot on his mind. There was so much he still didn’t know. But that’s why he was here, to learn.

“So, this whole . . . accepting the wolf thing . . .” Eliot went on.

“Right,” Lee said. He pushed himself back to his feet, and turned to offer a hand to Eliot. He took it and pulled himself up. “There’s all sorts of school of thoughts on it. The wolf is part of you, but it’s separate from you, it is you, but a more primitive, primal part that’s fed off instinct, but it’s way smarter than any animal–”

“So it’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated,” Lee said, pointing a finger in the air. “It’s all correct, but not quite right? It’s all . . . personalized, I guess. There’s different ways to approach it, and you have to find what works best for you.”

“Is this stuff you figured out, or is it stuff Don told you?” Eliot asked.

“Eh, little of Column  A, little of Column B. But it was more like, ‘things I learned from Don by doing the exact opposite of what he told me to do,’” Lee said. “When I first met Don and he told me he could help me, I was . . . pretty desperate. So I took him at his word when he told me certain things–”

“Like when he told you the wolf was a ruthless cold-blooded killer and the only one who could control it was him?” Eliot hazard a guess.

“I’m guessing he gave you the same speech, then,” Lee scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “He took me down into his basement and locked me in a cage as part of my ‘training.’”

“Oh,” Eliot said with sudden realization. “So that’s not for sex.”

“What?!” Lee yelped.

Eliot stiffened uncomfortably. “We . . . also checked out Don’s place. We found the secret room with the giant dog cage and the whips and chains and the . . . yeahhhhh . . .” he trained off. “We, uh, just thought he was into some weird stuff.”

Lee buried his head in his hands, going through the five stages of grief in record time. “No. No, that is not for sex,” he said, pain evident in his voice.

“So he put you in that cage–” Eliot went on, desperate to change the subject.

“And that’s where he tortured me,” Lee finished, snapping up to glare at Eliot. “He locked me up. Beat me. Said it would teach the wolf obedience. But it was all about submission. Submission to him. And I didn’t take very kindly to that sort of treatment. Neither did the wolf.”

Eliot could see it now. There were many so-called dog “trainers” who thought they could teach submission and obedience through brutality. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. All it taught the animal was how to fear and hate.

“I was . . . furious. Furious at the way Don treated me. And furious at myself for being so easily manipulated.”

“He took advantage of you. Preyed on your vulnerability. It’s not your fault,” Eliot said. “But we know better than that. It’s not a killer. It’s just . . . an animal.”

“An animal that can kill if you’re not careful. You can never lose sight of that,” Lee said. “But the one thing I did learn is this isn’t about control. It’s not about submission, or dominance, or keeping the wolf on a short leash. It’s about cooperation. You and the wolf need to find common ground. You need to recognize that it wants much of the same things that you want. It just wants to live.”

“And wolves are pack animals. It wants to protect its friends,” Eliot said slowly.

Lee nodded encouragingly. “Exactly. So you just need to . . . extend a friendly hand to it. It’ll take time, and the wolf might be slow to warm up to you. But you have to give it a chance. It is not your enemy. So you can’t treat it as such. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it does.”

Lee patted Eliot on the shoulder. “Good. Now let’s take a shot at meeting your inner wolf.”

Lee sat back down on the ground, crossing his legs beneath him, and he motioned for Eliot to do the same. Eliot did so, and he could see Lee take a deep breath and relax his shoulders.

“Alright, this next part is going to sound extremely hokey, but I need you to bear with me. We’re going to try a little bit of meditation.” Lee paused, as if he was waiting for Eliot to laugh or scoff.

But Eliot didn’t. He shrugged. “I get it. Meditation is a very valuable tool for emotional self-regulation.”

Lee blinked. “Well. Good. I know a lot of guys are instantly put off by any mention of it–”

“I’m not most guys.”

“Clearly.” But Lee focused, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders, back straight but relaxed. “Ok. First thing we’re going to do is just sit here and close your eyes. I take it by now you’ve noticed your senses are far more sensitive than they were before.”

Eliot followed along, closing his eyes. Lee was right; his entire world had been expanded, overwhelmingly so.

“Take deep, even, slow breaths. Sense the world around you with everything but your eyes. Don’t strain to sense everything, just sit and listen and take in what you can.”

Eliot breathed deep. Five seconds inhale. Two seconds hold. Five seconds exhale. 

He smelled the grass beneath him, he smelled the wet soil and the moss on the trees. He felt the dampness in the air, cold and crisp, he smelled the decay of leaves and the pollen on flowers and trees. He heard the distant call of birds, the chatter of songbirds, the cry of a hawk, the caw of a crow. He heard water. He heard a bubbling stream not far off, where he heard frogs croak and flies buzz. 

Inhale. And exhale. Taking in the woods all around him.

Eliot’s nose itched. He never noticed how much everything smelled.

He tried not to scratch it. Just keep breathing. In and out. In and out.

Every breath, he swore he inhaled a lungful of dirt particles and pollen. Why did dirt have to smell so much?! And he smelled something distinctly acidic–did an animal pee on this tree?!

Focus, stop getting distracted. Keep breathing.

In. And out.

He could smell Lee’s deodorant. He could hear Lee make the same deep, slow breaths.

. . . was that Lee’s goddamned heartbeat that he was hearing?!

Lee cracked open an eye. “You ok over there?”

“No, I’m not ok!” Eliot said, slamming a hand on the ground. “Stop breathing so loud, it’s distracting!”

Lee narrowed his eyes. “You want to tell me what’s really bothering you before you say something else stupid?”

“It’s all too . . . loud,” Eliot said. He gestured around them. “I’m hearing and smelling everything, and I can’t concentrate!”

“Your senses are now far more sensitive than ever before. You’re overstimulated,” Lee explained. “You just need to get used to this new, erm, ‘normal.’ You know, like how your eyes can adjust to the dark? Like that. Except with your nose and ears and getting used to them being way more sensitive.”

“Oh, great, how long is that gonna take?”

“I don’t know! However long it takes you,” Lee scoffed. “A few days? A week? How am I supposed to know?”

“Well how long did it take you?”

Lee rolled his eyes, thinking. “I can’t remember, that was a long time ago and I was just a kid, I had a lot of other things to worry about at the time–”

Eliot snarled under his breath. “Alright, fine, I’ll figure it out.”

Lee glowered. “Look, I know you’re stressed, but that’s no reason to take it out on me.”

“I’m not taking it out on you–!” Eliot protested. “I’m just . . .”

“Are you always this cranky? I feel bad for your friends,” Lee said, shaking his head.

“I’m not cranky. And even if I was, I think I have a damn good reason to be, don’t I?”

“Fair, fair. Ok, fine, so if breathing exercises aren’t working, then you first need to get used to being hyper-sensitive. Um, ok, let me think, new approach . . . Alright, let’s try this: keep doing your breathing exercises, but don’t try to pay too much attention to things. Acknowledge what you do notice, and then just let it pass. Don’t let yourself focus on anything for too long, just let it flow. Try to make everything around you white noise.”

Eliot took another deep, calming breath (and got a good whiff of a skunk while he was at it) and tried to relax. He kept breathing, trying to not let the neverending barrage of senses distract him.

Acknowledge, then let go. The dirt, the moss, the grass, the smell of fallen leaves, the scent of pine and the sound of the creek, the birds, the insects, the frogs. Lee, right in front of him, breathing calm and deep.

He could smell animals. The distinct musk of different rodents, squirrels and muskrats and that damn skunk. 

Acknowledge, then let go. Don’t focus on anything for too long.

He took another deep breath, trying to distance himself from the world around him.

“How are you doing?” Lee asked.

“Terrible.”

Lee laughed. “Well, now you know why it’s called a curse. It’s not going to be easy. I’ve been struggling with it for years, myself. It’s going to take time, you just have to keep at it. Anything worth having is worth working for, right? So just keep practicing. You’ll get it soon enough.”

Eliot hesitated. “And if I don’t?”

Lee smirked. “You don’t have any confidence in yourself?”

“I’m just planning for the worst case scenario.”

“But you’ve already proven to be more than capable. You know how to keep a level head in dire situations. And from the sounds of it, you have a group of friends you can depend on. That’s something I never had. And now, you’re going to need them now more than ever. Because this is all for them, right?”

Eliot nodded.

“Right. So don’t let them down.”

Chapter Text

Nathan entered back into his apartment above the restaurant, seeing Hardison on the couch, watching some movies on his laptop. Parker sat next to him, watching a different movie on the TV, notebook in hand and writing frantically. Sophie was in the kitchen, fixing herself up something to eat.

“Hey,” she greeted. “Where’s Eliot?”

“Um, training. With Lee,” he said. “Yeah, Lee agreed to help Eliot out, so they’re in the woods doing . . . werewolf stuff, I guess.” He gestured to the TVs. “What’s this, a movie marathon?”

“Research,” Hardison corrected sharply. “I queued up every movie and TV show I could find about werewolves and we’re watching all of them to find anything that might be relevant.”

“Hardison, there’s gotta be thousands of movies and shows–”

“Yeah, so we’re going to be busy the next few days.”

Nathan gave a questioning look to Sophie. She strode to Nathan’s side, talking quietly to him.

“Nate, they’re desperate for answers, too,” she said. “And you know how Hardison is. He’s big on the whole research thing, and he thinks he can find the answers somewhere in all these stories.”

“Yeah, but how can you tell what’s real and what’s fiction? That’s what we have Lee for.”

“And how much does Lee know?”

Nate hesitated. “Not a lot.”

“The thing is, we don’t know what is real and fiction anymore. I mean, Nate, seriously! Werewolves! Who would have ever thought! If you told me five years ago I’d be working with one, I would have thought you meant I got a part in some C-list horror movie. Perhaps I would have been the damsel in distress who gets savagely murdered in the cold opening to set the mood–”

“Sophie.”

“Point is,” she said, dragging herself away from a whimsical fantasy. “We need something, too. Some reassurance that we can find the answers.”

“Alright, but any theories should be carefully monitored, right? We don’t want anything blowing up back in our faces,” Nate said. He turned back to the TV, watching some sort of early 2000’s gothic-action movie. “So, what are we watching?”

“Van Helsing,” Hardison said. “Directed by Steve Sommers, released in 2004, starring Hugh Jackman, Kate Beckinsale, and Rich Roxburgh. It tanked on Rotten Tomatoes, but it’s seriously underrated.”

“And has the most accurate werewolves so far,” Parker said. “Well, accurate in terms of appearance. Minus the tail, of course.”

“But not so accurate in the whole transformation thing,” Hardison said. “Y’see, in this movie, the guy turns into a werewolf and stays a werewolf. And it’s a mindless killer that accidentally kills the love interest at the end. Spoilers.”

“But! Supposedly there’s a cure for it, but, um, they don’t really elaborate on what that cure actually is.”

“And the cure only works before the stroke of midnight–why is it always the stroke of midnight, it makes no sense–”

“What else have you discovered?” Nathan asked. 

“It’s a borderline universal thing that werewolves are allergic to silver and turn on the full moon. So, full moon thing proven, getting turned by a bite is proven, but the details vary. Like, I can’t find anything concrete about what wolfsbane is supposed to do. In some stories, it weakens a werewolf, in others it makes it easier to control, in others it’s one of the werewolf’s fatal weaknesses–”

“We’ll have to ask Lee. He obviously knows, since we saw him drinking a cup of it,” Nate pointed out.

“So it’s not lethal. For a werewolf, at least,” Sophie interjected.

“And the moonstone! I haven’t a damn clue about moonstone!” Hardison said, throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell is even all that about! I found, like, three stories so far that reference moonstone having any effect on werewolves and they’re all wildly different!”

“We’ll have to jot down a list of questions to ask Lee next time we see him,” Nathan said.

Hardison’s hand shot up, showing Nate his own notebook. Nate flipped through it, reading through no less than five pages’ worth of questions.

“Oh, uh, good, you’re already on it,” Nate said. “Carry on.”

Parker and Hardison kept watching while Nathan retreated upstairs for something, probably to scheme. Sophie followed suit. She saw that look in Nate’s eye, that old familiar spark of martyrdom when Nate was going into one of his spirals. And if there was ever an emotional crisis, this would be it.

“Hey, Nate, you alright?” she asked gently, following him up the stairs and out of earshot of the two downstairs. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, doing just fine. You know, just trying to not let anyone else get eaten by a giant rabid wolf .”

Sophie sighed. There it was. “Nate, this isn’t your fault–”

“No, Sophie, it is! It’s my job to look after my team and keep them safe! I’m the mastermind, I’m the one with a plan, I’m the guy who’s supposed to be three steps ahead, I’m the one who should have seen this coming.”

“Seen what coming? That some monsters out of old horror fiction are actually real? Nate, be serious! How could anyone have possibly predicted this would happen?!”

“I let Eliot go at it alone–”

“Far from Eliot’s first time taking on a band of brawlers all by himself, that’s his job–”

“And now he’s suffering because of my screw-up!” Nate yelled. “And we’re pounding on the door of some guy who barely knows more than we do and begging for his help.”

“So, what? Now it’s shameful to ask for help?”

“That’s not the point!” Nathan said. “I failed my team! Me! And now that’s on my head!”

There was a note of silence that stretched between them, and Sophie saw that broken man, so desperate to help others, so desperate to always be in control. And now in the span of a single night, everything was thrown into chaos. Nate had completely lost control and was flailing for any sort of anchor, like a ship lost at sea.

Eliot taking the news hard was a given, and she knew Nate would take it just as badly if not moreso. She could continue to stand there and insist that it wasn’t his fault, but she knew Nate better than that. Stubborn, proud man. He’d beat himself to death if she gave him an inch of rope.

Nathan wiped a hand down his face. “It’s not just Eliot. Everything’s changed now. The world as we know it has changed. We can’t just . . . go back to the way things were and pretend nothing happened. So what does that mean for our team and our future? What does it mean for our jobs and our clients? Where do we even go from here? I . . . I don’t know what to do.”

“And you don’t have to figure it out all on your own,” Sophie reassured gently, putting a hand on his arm. “Nate, I’m not going to lie; this is unknown territory, and the unknown is a scary thing. We’re all scared . And it’s ok to be scared. But we’ll figure this out, we always do. And we’ll do it together. You just need to have a little more faith in your team. Because we are a team, and we’re here for each other. That’s what we do.”

Nate gave a pause before nodding. “I know. Thank you. I just . . . can’t stop blaming myself for what happened.”

“That’s always been your greatest vice. Self-flagellation,” Sophie grinned. “Let me ask you something: is all this beating yourself up helping Eliot?”

“I’m assuming the correct answer is ‘no.’”

“Because that is the correct answer, smart-ass,” she said, smacking his arm. “You want to help? Then figure out how we’re going to get this Laragan guy out of our hair. I don’t like how he just strolled right up to our restaurant. We better get him off our backs, and quickly.”

“Well, I was in the middle of a great con, but I have a feeling our cover’s blown. I’ll need to think of something new.”

“Sounds like you have some planning to do, then, Mastermind” Sophie said. “Get to it.”

****

“Ugh, I feel like my eyeballs are gonna melt out of my sockets,” Parker whined as she flopped back on the couch. She tossed her notebook onto the coffee table, kicking her feet up on it. “How many more of these dumb movies do we have to watch?”

Hardison’s eyes were still locked onto his laptop screen. “As many as possible. We need to know everything we can.”

“Yeah, but we can’t verify any of this crap without Eliot or Lee. Maybe we should just wait for them to get back from their little field trip or whatever,” Parker said. 

But Hardison didn’t respond. He was still glued to his own screen, one hand to his chin, all hunched over. He looked . . . angry.

“Hey, you ok?” Parker asked.

“You serious?” he sputtered. “You’re seriously asking me that? I just watched a guy I thought was my friend hulk out into an urban legend with big teeth and big claws and he could snap me like a twig over his knee before all this but now he could eat me if he wanted to, no I am not ok.”

“Hardison–” 

“I thought you were going to die last night.”

Parker sat back, aghast. Hardison finally looked up at her, and his eyes were red, his shoulders tense and shaking. A hand went up to his eyes to wipe something away.

“I–I didn’t think you were going to get out of that warehouse alive,” he said, his voice so low and so shaking Parker could barely hear him. But even still she could hear his fear and worry. “I kept thinking back to all those stories I read and all those movies I watched, and they all painted the werewolf as the same thing–”

“But we know that’s not true!”

“There was no way for me to know that!” Hardison said. “I thought–I thought I was going to watch you get killed right in front of me, and I was–I don’t ever want to feel that way ever again.” He reached over and gripped her hand. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t . So I need to find the answers so I can at least know what I’m dealing with.”

Parker gripped his hand back and leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re dealing with our friend Eliot. And if you were down there instead of me, he wouldn’t have hurt you, either.” She paused, letting out a small laugh. “Although he’d definitely scare you so bad you’d pee your pants. Just a little bit.”

Hardison huffed. Yeah. It was way too easy to imagine Eliot would still find some way to mess with him, even as a mindless werewolf. “Probably chew on my shoes.”

“Oh, he’d eat those for sure.”

“What is it with dogs and chewing shoes?”

Parker shrugged. “Same reason why they also pee on fire hydrants?”

Hardison laughed. “Maybe we should get Eliot one as a gag gift. A big plastic fire hydrant.”

“If you do that then he’s definitely going to eat you.”

The door opened. Hardison and Parker both turned to see Eliot walk in, wearing old gym clothes spotted with dirt and grass stains.

“Who am I eating?” he asked sarcastically, throwing down his gym bag.

Hardison stammered. “We weren’t talking about you–”

“Right. Sure.” He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh. He looked worn out. “So what do you have for me?”

Hardison glanced at Parker before grabbing his pages of notes and handing it over to Eliot. “Um, we were just working on a list of questions to ask you . . .”

Eliot took the notebook and fished out a pair of his reading glasses from his bag. Hardison just continued to stare.

“What?!” Eliot snapped.

“Nothing, nothing, I just–I don’t see you wear glasses often–”

“You see me wear them all the time!”

“Yeah, but as part of a disguise–”

“They also help when I’m reading! Now stop staring at me,” he scowled. He adjusted his glasses, bringing up the notebook to read–then paused. He lifted his glasses, then put them back down, then lifted them again–

“Goddamn werewolf super senses,” he muttered, throwing the glasses away. “Well good news, I don’t need glasses anymore.”

Hardison blinked. “That’s . . . cool . . .”

“Whatever.” Eliot flipped through the notebook, frowning as he read some of the questions out loud. “ ‘What does wolfsbane do, what does moonstone do, can you turn back after you–’ ” He squinted. “ ‘After throwing a pair of clothes at the werewolf and calling his name? Can you turn from drinking water from a wolf’s paw print? ’ What the hell is this crap?”

“It’s an old folk superstition,” Hardison sighed. 

Eliot rubbed his eyes. He would have berated Hardison for asking such dumb questions, but that wasn’t fair. For all he knew, this was all completely true. “Fine. What else you got?”

“Oh, can you hold this for me?” Parker asked, handing Eliot an ornate silver dagger. Eliot took it more out of reflex than anything. He turned it over in his hand, examining it. “That’s the dagger of a thirteenth century sultan over in India, its handle interlaid with five perfect emeralds and six one-and-a-half carat diamonds–”

Eliot suddenly dropped the dagger, letting out a shocked exclamation of pain. “OW! Son of a bitch! What the HELL , Parker?!?”

“-and also made of pure silver,” she finished.

“It felt like you tried to burn my goddamn hand off!” he yelled furiously. He shook out his hand, and they could already see the skin of his palm turn an angry shade of red, just like he had been severely burned. 

But Hardison saw something far more concerning. Eliot’s hand flexed, and he could see claws. Through Eliot’s furious scowl, he could see long, sharp teeth. He saw Eliot’s eyes flash from blue to a burning radiant yellow.

“That wasn’t funny, Parker! That hurt–!” Eliot continued to fume. He took one step towards her–

Hardison jumped into action. He shot forward, grabbed the dagger, and pointed its blade right at Eliot.

He froze. He looked straight into Eliot’s eyes and saw . . . betrayal. And only then did Hardison realize what he just did.

He dropped the dagger, raising his hands.  “I–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just–”

“Save it.” Eliot turned, grabbed his bag, and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Nathan and Sophie came racing downstairs. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Hardison continued to stare at the door, hands over his head. He pointed a dagger at his friend. He pointed a silver dagger at his friend .

What the hell was wrong with him? What was he thinking?! No, that was the problem, he wasn’t thinking. He just . . .

“I screwed up, man,” Hardison muttered.

Parker picked up the dagger and showed it to Sophie. “I . . . I ran over to the Portland Museum and nabbed this from the display. I was bored–took me like five minutes, the security system was a joke–”

“Parker,” Sophie said firmly.

“I wanted to see if the whole silver thing was true,” she sighed.

“Of course it’s true, Don said himself that unless my bullets were silver it wouldn’t kill him. You didn’t need to nab a fancy knife for that, now go put it back,” Nathan said, taking the dagger from Sophie. 

“I pointed it at him,” Hardison said bitterly. “I–I didn’t mean to, but he was angry, and he was yelling at Parker–”

Nathan stopped, putting the pieces together. “You threatened Eliot–?!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“I stole the dagger, I gave it to Eliot, it’s my fault,” Parker said frantically. “It’s my fault, too, I didn’t . . . I didn’t know it’d make him so angry.” 

She sighed, putting her head down dejectedly. “I’m sorry. I’ll . . . go put this back . . .” Parker mumbled, taking the dagger from Nathan. “I’m sorry.”

Nathan closed his eyes. It was just like Sophie said, they were all scared. His team was falling apart. 

And he needed to fix this.

****

Eliot slammed the door to his apartment, roiling with fury. It was like a fire blazing in his chest, every inch of his skin searing with the heat of rage. 

Eliot had always been angry, and temperamental, and downright crass, but this? This was well beyond his normal threshold of anger.

Hardison had only held a weapon at him once before, and that was at their very first job. When Dubenich didn’t pay up and they all met in that warehouse, pissed as all hell their bank accounts were still empty after a job well done. He and Hardison had gotten there first, and there was Hardison, all cock-sure and shoving a pistol in his face and holding it sideways like an idiot wanna-be gangster. Back then, even with a gun waving in his face, Eliot wasn’t afraid. He could see Hardison was no killer. He was just like any other punk with a gun; thinking it would make him look tough and intimidating and scare Eliot into giving up the money he was owed. 

They laugh about it now. Because Hardison was no killer. Never was, never will be.

But Eliot could never forget that look in Hardison’s eye just now. Never forget the way he looked at him when he pointed that dagger at his chest. There was real, genuine fear . And a cold steely resolve that maybe– maybe –he could do the unthinkable.

It was only for a split second before it vanished into overwhelming guilt, but that split second told Eliot enough.

He was feared. His own friends, whom he worked with, whom he shared a home with, whom he thought he knew better than anyone else, feared him.

And the worst part is that Eliot couldn’t even blame them.

He threw his bag across the room. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break everything in his house and leave it all as splinters. He just wanted to give into all that hatred and anger that now threatened to drown him. 

It’d be so easy. It’d feel so good–

Anger was an old friend, and Eliot knew it well. And never before has it been so intoxicating. It was like a drug. So easy to fall into an endless pit of it and lay there, letting it fester, letting it eat him alive until there was nothing left but anger. Anger burned hot and red, and it consumed everything, starting with himself. Like a poison.

And he knew if he gave in now, there may be no coming back. However much hatred and rage filled his heart he couldn’t give in–

He couldn’t let it consume him–

Yet all he could see were their faces. Terrified. Fearful. Mistrustful. A gleaming silver dagger pointed at him, and the determination to act upon it.

He . . . hated it. Hated everything he was now. Hated the wolf that now roared inside his head.

This isn’t the wolf’s fault.

It was so hard to let it go. They were just scared. It’s not their fault.

But after everything they’ve been through–! All the countless times they’ve saved each other’s lives!

Eliot closed his eyes. His chest still ached. His heart and lungs burned. 

It would be so easy to blame it all on the wolf. To hate it for what it did to him–

The wolf didn’t choose this, either. It’s not its fault.

He took a deep breath. In. And out. In. And out.

He couldn’t let go of his anger. Not so easily. Everything was still so . . . raw.

He just couldn’t let it destroy him. He had to be better than that.

He had to be better .

Eliot stormed off to his room and changed before heading right off to the bathroom. He stepped into the shower and turned it on, standing beneath an ice-cold shower as if that’d wash everything away. His forehead rested against the tile as he felt the water drum on his back, the dull roar of water through the pipes a welcomed white noise to drown out his own thoughts.

And when he finally felt like he sulked long enough, he shut off the water, grabbed a towel, dried himself off, and dressed. He went through the motions of his nightly rituals, preparing himself some dinner–

Before realizing that he was missing practically every protein in his house. He let out an exhausted sigh. 

Pasta it is, then.

He reached into his cabinet to pull out a bag of high quality flour, some salt, and then a few eggs from the fridge. He made the traditional “volcano” of flour before cracking a few eggs into the well, added the salt, and mixed them in. He had just fully incorporated the flour and eggs and formed it into a dough when a notification pinged on his phone. He glanced at it, and saw that it was his front door camera. There was someone at the door.

Hardison.

Eliot growled to himself. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and kept working his pasta dough. Admittedly, he was taking a fair bit of his frustration out on the poor dough, really putting his whole weight into it as he kneaded it and punched it. He was just waiting for the doorbell to ring.

Several minutes passed by, and it didn’t.

Eliot gave the dough a few extra punches for good measure. He pulled out his phone again, accessing the camera. Hardison was still there, pacing at the doorway anxiously. His hand raised as if to knock before he lowered it, then continued to pace some more.

Eliiot threw down his dough then covered it in saran wrap. It needed to rest anyway. He stormed over to the door and threw it open, causing Hardison to jump in surprise.

Eliot glared at him. “Careful, I might eat you, ” he said, scathing sarcasm dripping from his every word.

Hardison shrank away from him. “Come on, man, that’s not fair–”

“Not fair? You’re gonna talk to me about what’s not fair?” he snarled.

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am, I want to make it up to you–”

“By lurking in my doorway? Either knock or get the hell off my property, but stop standing there,” he growled.

Hardison looked as guilty and suspicious as a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. “I was–I was going to knock, I–how did you–” He squinted at Eliot. “How did you know I was here?”

He said it as if he were really asking, was it your werewolf super-senses that tipped you off? But Eliot just glared and silently pointed to the camera nestled in the corner of his balcony. Hardison nodded slowly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, um, that makes sense . . . um, glad you finally took my advice to get a home security system, though if any punk thinks about breaking into your home, especially now, woo boy are they in for a rough surprise, am I right–”

“What do you want , Hardison?”

Hardison stopped himself, and held up a bag to Eliot. “I . . . brought a peace offering.”

Reluctantly, Eliot glanced at it. It was filled to the brim with packaged meat, and Eliot recognized the labeling.

“Barry’s Butcher House,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you were always going on about how good this guy was, so I went over and told him to give me the biggest, freshest, best steaks he had,” Hardison said. “I, um, even got you a bunch of bone marrow. I still have no idea what you use it for, but you used it for that one job with the restaurant guy and the truffles–I just thought, you know . . . you said you cleaned out your fridge the other night, so . . . thought I could do you a solid.”

Eliot glanced at Hardison. His discomfort was more than apparent, as was his festering feelings of regret and guilt. And damn it , he was trying to make it up to Eliot. He sighed. 

He stepped off to the side, silently inviting Hardison in. Hardison gratefully dipped his head and stepped inside, heading over to the kitchen to set down his overloaded bag. 

“Were you in the middle of making something?” Hardison offered as he saw the ball of dough set off to the side.

“Yeah.” Eliot went through the bag, examining what Hardison had gotten him. Backstraps, sirloins, tenderloins–they were good cuts. Pricey, but well worth it. At least Hardison wasn’t lying about that.

Eliot set aside two cuts of backstraps and put everything else into the fridge. He sprinkled them with salt and pepper, got out a cast iron pan, and cranked on the stove to its highest setting, getting the pan ripping hot.

Hardison silently watched as Eliot cooked. Maybe in another life Eliot would have been a celebrity chef the likes of Gordon Ramsey or Alvin Leung. Certainly had the temper to be at their level. But Eliot was a master of his kitchen and Hardison knew far better than to disturb Eliot when he was cooking. Especially when he had a knife in his hand.

For Eliot, cooking was its own sort of meditation. It was easy to get lost in it as ideas came to his head on how to prepare his food, what sides to serve, what sauce to perfectly compliment each cut of meat. Food was life, food was expression, and he was still feeling very angry and frustrated–

A spicy chimichurri sauce, then. With a side of roasted brussel sprouts sauteed in butter and garlic.

Eliot was totally engrossed in his work. Everything else just faded away as the sound and smells of cooking food was all that filled his senses and mind. And within the next fifteen minutes, the whole house was filled with the heavenly aroma of cooking steaks. Eliot fished the steaks out of the pan, preparing two plates. He passed one over to Hardison.

Hardison honestly wasn’t expecting Eliot to cook him anything. He even gave Eliot a questioning look, to which Eliot’s response was passing him a fork and knife. And a beer.

“I don’t have any of your shitty orange soda but maybe you should try a real man’s drink for a change,” Eliot chastised.

“Um . . . thank you,” Hardison said. And he wasn’t about to insult a master chef by not eating his food, and neither was he an idiot to turn down one of Eliot’s steaks. He cut into it, revealing it was cooked to a perfect medium rare, while Eliot’s steak was more on the rare side. And they were seasoned to absolute perfection and the sauce was a perfect compliment, a nice bit of heat but not overpowering. Hardison could go to a million steak houses and not have a steak nearly as good as the one Eliot just made for him.

Hardison closed his eyes, humming in delight. “Man, you’re in the wrong business.”

Eliot let out a small huff of laughter. “Hey, who’s the chef in charge of your little pub, again? It would have gone under in two months if I had not saved your ass. I mean, seriously, that beer you tried to brew tasted like piss.”

“Hey, I looked up the exact formula to make that beer and followed the precise fermentation processes, it was perfectly calculated to be the best damn beer anyone has ever tasted–”

“You can’t calc your way through making a damn beer, there’s an art to it!”

“So now you’re the steak and beer king, is that right?”

“Damn right I am.”

Hardison chuckled. This felt . . . better. More normal. Back to their old bickering selves. But he still felt a sense of tension and apprehension between them. He speared his steak with his fork, looking for the right words.

“Eliot, I don’t know what I can even say–”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Eliot responded, though he was staring down at his own steak, stabbing a piece and eating it. “I get it.”

“No, man, it’s not ok. Look, I messed up, and it was wrong, and I should have never–” He sighed. “I should have trusted you. You’re my friend, Eliot, and you’ve never done us wrong. You’ve always had our backs. And I should have had yours.”

“You’ve always had my back,” Eliot said. “Hardison, I don’t know how we could do . . . anything without you. I just . . . punch people. Anyone could do that. And maybe . . . you’ll be able to find someone else to fill the gap if I can’t come back.”

“Don’t even say that,” Hardison said. “You heard what Nate said. We’re a team, and we look out for each other, no matter what, so I want you to know, going forward, I’ll always have your back. I promise. And besides–” He leaned back and took a swig of his beer, fighting back a sour face. He never was a fan of beer. “--No one can punch like you can.”

Eliot looked up at him, and Hardison swore he saw a flicker of a smile on his face. 

Hardison held out his hand. “We good?”

Eliot nodded, gripping Hardison’s hand and performing their little handshake. “Yeah. I think we’re good.” He finished up his dinner and put his plate in the sink. “But don’t expect any more free dinners from me. Especially after you stole my damn sandwich.”

“You’re still all hung up on that stupid sandwich . . .” Hardison said, and it was just so ridiculous and so normal he couldn’t help but laugh. “Ok, fine , cross my heart, hope to die, I won’t eat your damn sandwiches anymore.”

“You better not. Because now I’ll know for sure.”

Werewolf super senses. Hardison wondered just how much mileage they’d get out of that. 

Hardison finished his plate soon after and passed it to Eliot to put away. “Hey, thanks for the steak.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

I should probably go, Hardison wanted to say, but things between them still felt unfinished. And even Eliot seemed like he wanted to say more. He folded his arms across his chest, nodding his head to Hardison’s book bag where he kept his laptop and tech-y gadgets.

“You still have that notebook?”

“Yeah, why?” Hardison said, taking it out.

Eliot exhaled through his nose. “You . . . you can also put down ‘accelerated healing’ on that list. You know. Like Wolverine.”

Hardison grinned. “Ah! X-Men! I welcome all converts into my flock of The Geek!”

“Shut up, I only watched the movies,” he scowled. 

“So, rapid regeneration, got that. Like, how fast?”

“Fast enough to heal a serious dog bite in under three days,” Eliot said, holding up his arm. “I took out the stitches within one.”

Hardison wrote that down. “And that also means you can turn outside the full moon–”

“I can change under the right emotional triggers. Or at will, if I can manage it,” Eliot added.

“So how the hell did you mistake a big hairy wolf-man for a ‘really big dog?’”

“Fun fact, apparently I can also turn into a regular wolf,” Eliot said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, shit, that’s cool.”

“Except I need to do the whole ‘accept my inner wolf and find inner peace’ bullshit before I can do that.”

“Ah. Less cool.”

“But obviously, Don’s goons can manage it, so it’s one of those things that just needs practice. And . . . there’s the silver allergy. Obviously.”

Hardison winced at that. “Yeah, that looked nasty. Are you ok?”

Eliot held out his hand, revealing the palm had already completely healed. Hardison let out a low whistle.

“Damn. That is fast.”

“Yeah. Um, any other theories you have?”

“I’ve been thinking about the whole lycanthropy thing a lot, actually,” Hardison said. “So in some stories, even a scratch is enough to turn you, but in nearly all cases, it requires a bite–”

“Or it can be passed down genetically from parent to kid.”

“Right, right, and we know all about bloodborne pathogens, so I suspect it works similar to a virus. An extremely super-charged, hyper-aggressive virus, but a virus all the same. For a virus, you need a few key elements: you need exposure, or in other words, the bite, but you need enough of the virus present for it to actually take root. So a small nip might not be enough to get the full effect of the lycanthropy, it needs to be a serious bite with plenty of saliva getting into your bloodstream.”

Hence why the guy was so determined to chew my arm off, Eliot thought with a frown. “And it doesn’t fully set in until the first full moon,” he added, recounting his earlier conversation with Lee. 

“Right! And that’s the last thing it needs; an incubation period. It needs time inside the body to grow and spread until it infects . . . everything.”

“Makes sense.” Eliot paused, thinking. “But how much time does it need? Like, if you were bitten the day before the full moon, is that enough time? Or does it just set in immediately and the full moon is just a trigger?”

“Those . . . are very good questions. I have no idea,” Hardison conceded.

“And how does the full moon thing even work? Do you still change when it’s cloudy? When you’re inside a cave or underground? How do you even know?”

“What would happen if we shot you into space? What if we sent you . . . to the moon?” Hardison asked with a very curious twinkle in his eye that gave Eliot the very uncomfortable feeling Hardison would go to some seriously extensive lengths to test that out. 

“You’re not shoving me into a spaceship.”

“But Eliot! Werewolves on the moon! We need to know what happens!”

“I don’t wanna know.”

“Are you serious?! You’re seriously turning down an opportunity to go into space?! There’s something wrong with you,” Hardison complained. “I can do it. I can fake us some NASA IDs and get us onto the next spacewalk–”

“No, Hardison.” For some reason, he just knew he wouldn’t do particularly well in space.

“Alright. Alright, fine ,” Hardison relented with a heavy and exaggerated sigh. “We won’t go to space. Boring-ass white boy.”

“You wanna run that by me again?!”

“I did bring one other thing,” Hardison continued without missing a beat. He reached into his bag and pulled out a white iridescent stone with a faint bluish hue. “I brought some moonstone. Maybe we can figure out what it does.”

Eliot stared at it. He was curious about that, too, but he had no inkling if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Was it like silver, or something else entirely? He tried to see if he was getting any sort of . . . feeling from it. But it was just a rock to him.

“Maybe take a step back, just in case,” Eliot cautioned, and Hardison took one large step backwards away from the table. 

Eliot reached out, hovering a hand above it. Again, he tried to see if there was anything his werewolf senses could pick up, but nothing. There was no indication that the rock was anything more than what it appeared to be. He slowly extended his hand, grabbed it–

And screamed, his body convulsing as if he had just been electrocuted.

Hardison screamed, jumping into the air and launching himself backwards, nearly falling over a chair as he scrambled away. He kept screaming, only to hear– laughing? He stopped, glancing up.

Eliot was doubled over, hand to his stomach, tears in his eyes, laughing hysterically.

“You should have seen your face!” Eliot gasped over uproarious belts of laughter. “Oh my god , you screamed like a little girl! Ho-oly shit, that was the funniest thing I have ever seen–!”

 Hardison scrambled back up to his feet, his face flushing with embarrassment. “ELIOT! Come on , man! NOT. FUNNY!”

“Oh, yes it was! That was the funniest shit I’ve seen all month! Oh, damn! I wish I had my camera,” he said, wiping away the tears in his eyes. 

Hardison just glowered, arms folding over his chest, pouting. “You done?”

“I’m done, I’m done, I promise,” Eliot said, taking a minute or two to regain his breath. “Ugh, I needed that. Shit , I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.”

Hardison still felt utterly embarrassed, but seeing Eliot laugh . . . well, that was a good sign, right? That meant all was forgiven? But he knew after that prank, now they were even. “Ok, be serious, what happened with the rock?”

“Nothing,” Eliot said with a shrug. He still held the moonstone in his hand and tossed it to himself. “Doesn’t hurt to hold it, it doesn’t . . . feel like anything. I don’t feel any stronger, or any weaker. I feel fine.”

“So . . . no kryptonite thing going on?”

“I think silver is the werewolf’s kryptonite, unless there’s other kinds of kryptonite–”

“There’s at least twelve different kinds of kryptonite.”

Eliot balked. “What do you mean twelve different kinds of kryptonite?!”

“Not to mention their different variations–There’s your classic green kryptonite, but there’s also red which is even more lethal to Superman than green, and there’s orange which give animals superpowers, and blue kryptonite which only affects Bizarro, and gold kryptonite which permanently removes Superman’s powers, and pink–” Hardison stopped. “We don’t talk about pink kryptonite.”

“Hardison,” Eliot said warningly.

“I’m just saying that if silver’s your green kryptonite, then moonstone might be a different color kryptonite, which doesn’t have any immediate obvious effect on you.” He paused, giving Eliot a very strange look. “No but seriously, how are you feeling about me right now, be honest.”

“Like I’m going to break your leg if you don’t knock it off.”

“Ok, then it’s definitely not pink kryptonite, thank god,” Hardison said with a relieved sigh. “So . . . you sure you’re feeling ok?”

“Feeling fine,” Eliot insisted, and it was the truth. He honestly didn’t feel any different than before. “Just chalk that onto the list of things to ask Lee.”

“And also ask if throwing your clothes at you and saying your name also works to turn you back.”

“You cannot seriously think that works.”

“Hey, you did hesitate when Parker said your name. Maybe if she smacked you with your t-shirt–”

“Werewolf mythology is such bullshit,” Eliot sighed.

“Hey, how do you think I feel?! Man, none of this shit makes sense, my entire worldview got turned on its head and my internet research has taken me to places that will forever haunt the rest of my days–”

“Do I even wanna know?”

“No, you don’t and I pray you never do,” Hardison said with a harrowed expression. He put his hands on Eliot’s shoulders and Eliot swatted them off. “I take it very seriously that I must protect you from the horrors of the internet.”

“Thanks. I guess,” Eliot said. “Wait, is this about your weird internet friends? What did you call them– fuzzies?”

You mean furries? Hardison almost said but choked that back. No, he can never let Eliot know about the existence of furries. He must protect him from such horrors. “We are dropping this conversation and we are to never speak of this again.”

“Fine, fine, whatever. What else?”

Hardison cracked open his laptop. “Well, there’s a few other things we can try. If you’re feeling up to it, that is.”

“Sure, I don’t have anything else going on tonight,” Eliot said with a shrug. He grabbed another beer, cracked it open, and sat down next to Hardison, peering over his shoulder at the laptop. “Let’s take a crack at this whole werewolf thing.”

Chapter Text

Hardison had no idea when he fell asleep last night, but he found himself waking up to the sounds and smells of something cooking. He groaned, cracking his eyes open to see he was lounging on Eliot’s couch, a blanket draped over him. He shoved himself back onto his feet, stretching.

Last night had been productive, although not without their signature arguing. He must have fallen asleep somewhere between all the internet articles and crappy horror movies and modern supernatural dramas.

Eliot was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, naturally. And cooking up no less than a half dozen eggs and what looked like a half slab of bacon.

Hardison stepped over into the kitchen. “You trying to feed the whole neighborhood or what?”

Eliot glared his very familiar, very typical glare. “Increased metabolism. We talked about that last night. Or do you forget after you insisted on joining in?”

Hardison remembered. Eliot was four beers deep into the night when he suddenly stopped and realized he wasn’t feeling any of the usual effects of alcohol. Eliot then broke out the harder liquors he had on hand and they did a fun little experiment they dubbed “how many shots to get a werewolf drunk?”

The answer was: a lot. Hardison barely got three shots deep before he had to tap out and the only reason Eliot stopped at nine was because he refused to waste another drop of his drinks on a “stupid science experiment.” Nathan wasn’t the only one with a fine collection of expensive spirits, after all.

Eliot ate his breakfast, and this time Hardison insisted Eliot didn’t need to cook anything for him this morning, he’d just grab a bagel on his way back to the pub. Which was fine with Eliot; more for him.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Hardison asked.

“Now it’s time for a bit more werewolf practice, and then off to interrogate Lee,” Eliot said with a small note of amusement.

“I have a feeling you’re pretty good at that.”

Eliot just responded with a grin all too cheeky to be anything other than confirmation.

“Alright, but don’t go too hard on him or you’ll scare him off,” Hardison warned jokingly. “And I’ll see you back at the pub when you’re done, alright?”

Eliot waved him off and Hardison left. He cleaned up his dishes, changed into fresh gym clothes, then headed out himself. First stop was to the park; he really did mean it when he said he wanted to get more “werewolf practice” in. Because the sooner he had control over this thing–real, genuine control–the better it would be for everyone.

Because he had made a promise to himself. If he couldn’t manage that by the next full moon . . . he’d be gone.

He went right back to the spot Lee showed him, deep in the woods and well off the beaten trail. He sat down, closed his eyes, and did his breathing exercises.

Deep, slow, controlled breaths. Five seconds inhale, two seconds hold, five seconds exhale. Repeat.

Again, the smells and sounds of the forests came to him. He could identify dozens, if not hundreds of different things. The dirt, the grass, the trees, the flowers, moss and fungi and animals of all sorts. But he didn’t let it overwhelm him. He just . . . let the sensations pass.

A crow flew overhead, cawing loudly. The sound of the creek nearby bubbled, frogs croaking. Grass whistled in the breeze.

In. And out.

It all began to fade away. He brought himself inward, letting the world fall away. The sounds grew more distance, the smells more muted as Eliot pulled himself deeper and deeper inward.

It wasn’t darkness that greeted him, but emptiness . Quiet. Peace. He stilled, the only thing filling his mind was his breathing.

He could feel his heart slow as his mind went quiet and empty.

Now, with all distractions purged from his mind, with everything clear and silent, he searched–

DANGER. THREAT.

Eliot’s eyes snapped open as something deep and primal triggered every single instinct in his body. He jumped to his feet, scanning his surroundings, his muscles tense for . . . something. He strained his ears to hear, but nothing. He took a deep breath–

There.

A scent on the wind. He would have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention, but he recognized it as that distinct musk of another werewolf. Not Lee. Which meant it had to be one of Don’s.

Eliot crouched low to the ground. He took note of the wind, the direction of the scent, and realized he was downwind. 

Good. Keep low, keep quiet. See what Don and his dogs are up to.

He stalked forwards, every step taken with excruciating care to not make a sound. He came up on top of a hill with a vantage of a sprawling valley below, thin pine trees scattered about and the valley broken apart by a few jagged rocky outcroppings. In the middle of the valley, maybe about sixty to eighty yards away, were two men. Eliot recognized one as Don Laragan, the second was definitely another one of his little goons, but not the red-head Cory. Eliot took out his phone, opened his camera, and zoomed in as much as he could. 

What were they doing out here?

They were digging into the rock with small hand-held pickaxes and shovels, poking here and there, taking out a chunk of rock, looking it over, tossing it away, and digging some more. Eliot recorded some of the footage and took out his earpiece. His team should know about this right away.

“Nate, you there?” he said, keeping his voice as low as he could manage. The wind was still on his side, but he wasn’t about to find out just how sensitive their hearing could be.

“Eliot? Is everything ok?” Nate’s voice came in.

“Don and one of his guys are in the national park, and they’re digging,” Eliot said. “Small scale. Just hand-held tools. They’re definitely looking for something.”

“Ok, well, that’s interesting, because they still haven’t gotten permission to dig there. They’ve jumped the gun,” Nate said. “Are they wearing any construction gear? Vests? Hard hats?”

“Nothing like that, just casual clothes. Could be off the company books.”

“They’re eager to get their hands on something, and fast,” Nate said to himself. “Ok, Eliot, keep your distance, and keep out of sight. We need to figure out what Don is so anxious to find–”

Eliot’s mind scrambled. Don said he suspected this forest was sitting on a treasure trove of precious stones and metals. Including moonstone–and silver.

“Don said he found a vein of silver close by, right?” Eliot asked. “He might need a steady supply of it to keep certain competing wolves in check, because let me tell you, if just touching the stuff hurts that much, getting stabbed or shot with it can easily kill.”

“Not a bad theory, but silver isn’t that hard to find–” Sophie mentioned.

“It’s always best to have your own source, though, isn’t it?” Parker chimed in.

“Eliot, take any video you can, but do not press your luck. Get out of there before you’re blown,” Nathan said.

“Copy that.” He had been videoing the whole time, actually, and just having video of Don picking through rocks in a national park might just be enough to get a very heavy fine from the EPA. Eliot shoved his phone in his pocket, keeping his eyes glued onto Laragan and his cohort as he carefully retreated.

They were still milling around the same area, but Eliot could smell them even stronger now. Had the wind picked up? He had to get back to his car and out of here–

He stopped.

The smell was getting stronger and stronger. It was moving towards him.

He hadn’t been smelling Don, he had been smelling another wolf that had been much closer–!

Eliot braced himself as a man came into view; the big burly brawn of Don’s group. He strode through the trees, grinning, cracking his knuckles as he stared Eliot down. The rival had a good foot of height and at least fifty pounds on Eliot. Size had never been an issue, because fighting was never about brute force, it was all about technique.

But how well would technique hold up against someone much stronger, much faster, and could also heal at inhuman speeds?

Eliot held his ground, and the man stopped about fifteen feet away. 

“You must be Eliot. I’m Jacob. Don’s told me all about you. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

Eliot growled in response, hands raising into a fighting stance.

“There’s no need to be so rude. But I don’t suppose I can convince you to say good-bye to your pitiful human friends and join a real pack, huh?”

Eliot didn’t respond. He maintained eye contact, holding firm.

“The offer is still on the table, Eliot. Don makes good on his word. He’s a remarkable leader, and he’ll show you the true potential of your wolf. You’ve barely even scratched the surface. There is no limit to what you can do now! So what’s stopping you, huh? What’s holding you back? Fear? Well, you’ll have nothing to fear when you’re one of us.”

“Or maybe you can tell me what you and Don are doing all the way out here,” Eliot challenged. 

Jacob growled. “This is our territory. And we don’t take kindly to intruders. It’s simple: you join our pack, or we run you out. And Don’s getting impatient waiting for you to make your choice!”

“I’ve already made my choice! I’m not going anywhere ,” Eliot snarled fiercely. “This is my home, and I’m not letting a bunch of alpha male posers push me around!”

Jacob sighed, feigning disappointment. “Well, that’s a shame. But you know what they say–” He grinned, Jacob’s eyes flashing yellow and his teeth lengthened into long, cruel fangs. “If you can’t join them, beat them!”

Jacob rushed forward, one fist pulled back for a punch–

Eliot deflected the blow and retaliated with a swift upper jab to the solar plexus, and then a follow up punch to the jaw. Jacob stumbled backwards a step, still grinning. He looked far too pleased with himself. He came again with another punch, and Eliot deflected again, bringing the arm across Jacob’s body and delivering two swift blows to the kidneys before throwing Jacob away.

Jacob caught himself before he fell to the ground. He stood, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth as he circled around Eliot. He was still grinning, the smug bastard.

“Oh, you are good,” Jacob said. “But there’s just one problem: you’re still fighting like a human!”

Jacob flexed his hands, every one of his fingers growing long, vicious claws. He let out a snarl, lips pulled back revealing fangs. And he charged forward–much faster, so fast it was almost a blur, wildly slashing at the air. Eliot stepped backwards, deflecting the wild swipes.

It wasn’t much different than defending against a knife attack–one arm went up to block a blow aimed for his face, the other hand grabbed Jacob’s wrist as it tried to go in for a stab. Eliot gave a vicious kick to Jacob’s shin as he headbutted him. It was meant to disorient, but the blow didn’t so much as faze Jacob.

He just grinned, lurching forward, and bit down hard on Eliot’s shoulder.

Eliot roared, and he brought his arm down, slashing Jacob across the face. Jacob howled in pain as crimson sprayed from the gashes crossing his cheek, and Eliot took a step back to realize he now had claws too.

He gripped his wrist. No, no, no, control yourself, you’re in control.

Jacob touched the blood on his face, and though furious, Eliot saw a note of pride, even satisfaction. “Heh, there it is. There’s your wolf. You know, you should be thanking us! For giving you such a wonderful gift!”

Jacob paced around Eliot, and he followed in step, circling back around. Deep, calm breaths. Be in control. He wouldn’t let fear win. He wouldn’t let the wolf win. He was in control.

“You’ve had to notice by now. You’re stronger. Faster. More resilient . You’ll never have another sick day in your life! You’re far superior to humans in every way.”

Eliot continued to remain silent. He pushed through his own fear and anxiety to think clearly. He needed a plan. Ignore the pain. Ignore the anger . He needed to weigh his options, he needed to form his strategy.

Jacob could take every punch he dealt like it was nothing. Eliot couldn’t overpower him, couldn’t outrun him. All his training, all his martial expertise meant nothing to an absolute juggernaut who could take everything he dished and keep going.

Which meant . . . so could Eliot.

Jacob charged again. Claws came slashing down, and Eliot tried blocking again, but Jacob pulled back his attack and the claws cut deep into Eliot’s arm. He gritted his teeth, reaching out for a blow to the ribs, only for Jacob to evade. Again and again, Eliot punched, aiming for every weak point he could think of: the solar plexus, the kidneys, the shins, the throat, but nothing seemed to stop Jacob long enough to give Eliot the upper hand–

“You’re still fighting like a human!”

Another wild blow came screaming for his head, slashing downwards. Eliot raised both his arms to block–

Only for Jacob’s other arm to strike forward, his hand spearing his side and claws cutting deep into his stomach. Eliot screamed. Jacob pulled away as Eliot crashed to his knee, cradling his side, now oozing blood.

And then anger. That old familiar friend. That roiling, boiling surge of rage. He was furious, but more than that, he felt a presence in his mind, equally furious, demanding revenge. It wanted payback. It wanted Jacob’s blood in turn. It wanted OUT.

Already he could feel his body respond to that anger. He felt himself change–he felt his claws, his teeth, he felt the hair prickle all along his arms.

He saw Jacob standing there, watching, grinning madly. Waiting.

“Show me your wolf!”

Then–Jacob changed. His form swelled to a monstrous size, his clothes tearing off his body as he shifted in seconds. Grey-silver fur rippled across his body, bone-crushing jaws snapped with long jagged teeth, and he reared back in his full werewolf form, bellowing a furious battle cry.

Eliot felt his heart hammer. His breath quickened, and he knew if he didn’t change too, he’d be ripped apart in seconds.

He needed to change now–!

But–

The image of Hardison standing in front of him flashed in his mind’s eye, knife pointed at his chest, that look of fear and terror and determination in his eyes–

He couldn’t. 

Jacob’s head suddenly snapped to the side, ears pointed straight up and forward. He snarled–

Before he was suddenly tackled by a massive shape of black. Eliot stumbled backwards, out of the way, as furious howls and roars erupted in front of him.

It was another werewolf–taller and leaner with pitch-black fur and tearing into Jacob savagely. But Jacob fought back just as furiously, claws ripping and tearing into anything within reach and his jaws snapping down at the opposing wolf’s arm. The black wolf sunk its own teeth into the back of Jacob’s neck, ripping him off and throwing him against a tree hard enough to make wood splinter. Jacob crashed heavily to the ground before shaking himself off and leaping right back at the black wolf, going for the throat. The wolf ducked under it, going for another charge as it slammed Jacob back onto the ground, trying to pin him beneath it.

Jacob’s legs kicked frantically at the wolf’s belly, trying to either shove it off or disembowel it. But the wolf had its jaws latched tight around Jacob’s neck and began to bear down with bone-crushing force. Eliot could see Jacob slowly weaken as he suffocated, and in one last desperate effort, Jacob’s hand lashed out and went for the eyes.

The eyes. Both burning a radiant yellow, but one dead and sightless.

Lee?!

The black wolf released, howling in pain and rage, but Jacob sprang right back up, pouncing and snapping his own jaws around the throat of the black wolf– Lee. Now it was Jacob who had Lee pinned and in his grasp, ready to choke the life out of him–

Eliot charged forward. He leaped onto Jacob’s back and reached forward, digging his thumbs into Jacob’s eyes. Jacob howled, arms flailing as his claws found purchase and dug deep into Eliot’s back, tearing him off. Eliot crashed to the ground, his back stinging and cold and wet as he felt blood spill forward, but it bought Lee enough time to recover and redouble his attack on Jacob, landing two more devastating swipes across Jacob’s face. These blows were like sledgehammers to the head, sending Jacob spinning and stumbling away. 

Jacob steadied himself, crouched over on all fours. He was panting heavily, blood dripping from his many wounds.

His tail was low, curled between his legs.

Lee roared.

Lee charged forward, and Jacob retreated, darting off in a dead sprint and Lee gave chase, snapping at Jacob’s heels and driving him away for good, letting out a howl of triumph as the rival wolf was chased away.

Eliot pulled himself to his feet, wincing from his own wounds. There were the lacerations on his arm, and now all up and down his back. There was the bite on his shoulder, not to mention Jacob nearly gutting him. His hand still pressed onto the wound in his side, biting back the pain.

Lee still stood there, facing the direction Jacob ran off to make sure he was gone for good. Eliot stepped towards the werewolf, grimacing.

“You took your damn time–”

The wolf snapped back its head towards Eliot, its eyes locking onto him, and it growled. Eliot froze. Lee didn’t recognize him. There was no spark of humanity behind those eyes.

Eliot held out his hand, carefully lowering himself down to one knee. The wolf stalked closer, still snarling viciously at Eliot.

“Lee, it’s me,” Eliot said, his voice calm and steady. “It’s ok, I’m your friend. I’m not going to hurt you–”

The wolf snapped its jaws at Eliot and it surged forward, one hand striking Eliot’s shoulder and pinning him to the ground. Eliot exhaled sharply as the wind was knocked from his lungs, and he felt the full weight of the wolf pressing down on him. 

He grimaced. “Lee, come on, it’s me. You’re not gonna hurt me. You have to be better than this!”

The wolf roared, those teeth coming dangerously close to Eliot’s face. He could feel its hot breath on his skin, saliva dripping from those sharp, lethal fangs. 

“I’m not your enemy! And I know you don’t wanna hurt anyone, so that’s why I know you’re not gonna hurt me! So snap out of it! Get back in control!”

The wolf’s growl was like an unending peal of thunder, low and relentless. But Eliot could see it hesitating. He could feel a pause as it released Eliot and stepped back. 

And he saw recognition. 

The wolf looked at Eliot– really looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. It whined, bowing its head, and retreated several steps away.

Eliot pushed himself back to his knees. God, everything was hurting. But he still extended a hand to the wolf. “Come on. It’s going to be ok. You’re fine.”

The wolf whined again. It pawed at its face, shaking its head. It began to shake and convulse, and it curled in on itself, whimpering. Eliot was about to rush forward when he noticed the wolf seemed to be getting smaller. He was changing back.

The horrific sound of snapping and cracking bones filled the air as it shifted and lurched, its form growing smaller and smaller, the black fur disappearing, and so too the fangs and claws. In just moments, the werewolf had returned back to the familiar shape of Lee Thriggs.

He collapsed onto the ground, curling up on his side, and sobbed.

Now Eliot ran forward, kneeling beside him. He grabbed Lee, pulling him upright. “Hey, hey, it’s ok, come on, you’re ok–”

“I almost killed you . . .” he whimpered.

“Don’t act so cocky, do you know how many people have tried to kill me?” Eliot said.

“I’m sorry–”

“For what? You saved my life,” Eliot said. “Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here before Don finds us. Let’s get you home–”

He pulled him and Lee back to their feet. Lee was exhausted and disoriented, but managed to stumble alongside Eliot. Eliot draped a spare jacket around Lee’s shoulder, and to his immense relief, he saw Lee was still wearing a pair of gym shorts. Eliot was surprised, yet grateful, to see an article of clothing survive the transformation.

“Hey, you need to tell me where you got those shorts, I could definitely use a pair of them,” Eliot tried to joke, but Lee was hardly in a state of mind to reply. 

Lee was still delirious, even as Eliot got him into the car. He faded in and out of consciousness as they drove to Lee’s place, and Eliot could hear brief mutterings from him. But it was mostly the same thing over and over.

“I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry . . .”

By the time Eliot reached Lee’s home, he was lucid enough to walk on his own and they both stumbled their way inside. Lee headed straight for the kitchen and pulled out a large tackle box filled with all sorts of first aid equipment. He offered some bandages up to Eliot who gratefully took some and began treating the worst of his injuries.

Lee was not without his own wounds, either. His stomach had been completely cut to pieces, with bite and claw marks marring his whole body. And despite all that, Lee insisted on getting Eliot fixed up first.

“Take off your shirt, I’ll get your back–” he said, and Eliot wordlessly did so. He could hear Lee wince sympathetically as he took a wet washcloth and cleaned the blood off his skin. “These look deep–god, I’m so sorry–”

“I’ll be ok,” he said. “What about you? You took one hell of a beating yourself.”

“Yeah, I’ll heal,” he said bitterly.

Eliot pulled away, turning to stare down Lee. “And so will I. Lee, if you hadn’t charged to my rescue, that asshole would have torn me apart. You saved me. What the hell are you beating yourself up about?”

“Because I couldn’t control myself! I could have hurt you even worse, or even killed you!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, so just–just stop , ok? You saved me, you didn’t hurt me, so take the win!”

Lee looked like he could have argued more, but he clammed up, shaking his head and limping over to the couch where he gingerly sat himself down, wincing the whole while. He nursed a particularly nasty bite on his arm, pressing a crumpled up ball of bandages against it to stop the bleeding. Eliot joined him on the couch, sitting on the other end of the sofa.

“How did you know I was out there?” Eliot asked after a moment.

Lee sighed. “Just a lucky guess. I thought you might be back out in the woods. I showed up just in time to see that fucker bite you–”

“Well, I don’t think I need to worry about bites anymore,” Eliot said.

“Smartass,” Lee said with a bitter laugh. “No, I just–I saw you, and I got scared, and angry –I didn’t want you getting hurt anymore for my screw-ups. I promised myself no one else would ever get hurt–”

“No one else?” Eliot said. He saw Lee’s jaw clench as a brief flicker of panic crossed his eyes, his hands clenching and shaking ever so slightly. “What do you mean no one else would get hurt?”

Lee remained silent. He didn’t meet Eliot’s gaze. He couldn’t.

Eliot recognized that face. He recognized that haunted, tortured expression. He was intimately familiar with the face of a man consumed with overwhelming guilt from an unforgivable sin.

It was the face Eliot saw every day in the mirror for the last ten years.

He remembered pieces of conversation.

Lone wolves don’t last long.

I . . . hated it.

Unstable.

Manage? I didn’t manage anything. I suppressed it.

–an investigative journalist–

–held hostage for four months–

–tortured–imprisoned–

Only so long you can beat a dog before it bites back–

Violent.

Just look what happened in Afghanistan–

“Lee . . .” Eliot said carefully. “What happened? What happened in Afghanistan?”

Lee swallowed. He stared straight ahead, staring at nothing, his voice as numb and distant as his gaze.

“I . . . it’s my fault,” he choked out. “I was too much of a coward to pull the trigger myself.”

Eliot sat upright, turning towards Lee. He didn’t dare interrupt. 

“I hated it, you know. The wolf. It ruled my life. It ruined it. I couldn’t go to school. Couldn’t do anything normal . How could I? I was just a monster five seconds away from hurting someone else,” Lee went on, choking back stinging tears and years of guilt and frustration. “I kept thinking how unfair it all was. Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? And I spent so long feeling sorry for myself that it then turned to . . . anger. Pure, overwhelming anger.”

“I didn’t want to keep living like this. I couldn’t take it. But . . . hff, that self-preservation instinct is a stubborn fucker. I couldn’t–I never managed to find the nerve to do it myself. I was such a coward.”

“You are not a coward,” Eliot said firmly. “You’re not a coward for wanting to live.”

“No, but I am a coward for what I did next,” Lee went on. Eliot saw tears streaming from Lee’s eyes. “I thought, if I couldn’t do it . . . I’ll find someone else to do it for me.”

It was all starting to come together. Eliot could see the pieces of the tragedy fall together. “So you became an investigative journalist . . .” he said slowly.

“I threw myself into the most dangerous places on earth. Figured I might get lucky and catch a stray bullet, or get hit by shrapnel, or step on a landmine and blow myself the fuck up,” Lee continued, still that bitter tone full of self-loathing. “Eventually, I found myself in the deserts of Afghanistan. And then . . . in the hands of terrorists.”

Lee closed his eyes. “There were three of them. Two men, mid-forties. Brothers, I think. And a kid–he couldn’t have been more than eighteen. A son of one of the older men–you could tell by the way they talked . . . how the father looked at the kid, and how the kid looked back at him . . . they were a family. They took me to some cave in the mountains–somewhere remote, somewhere no one could find me. They knew I was an American. They knew I was valuable . They were going to hold me for ransom. The older men hated me enough on principle alone. What our government did to their people–is it any wonder they’d despise me so much? Almost as much as I hated myself.” He laughed coldly at that.

“But they were . . . reasonable. I wasn’t worth anything to them dead. But the kid? No. The kid was . . . he was angry. He didn’t want money. He didn’t want the ransom. He just saw me as the enemy and he wanted to hurt me. He wanted to make the American fucker he had chained to a cave wall pay.”

“They barely kept me alive. Fed me just enough so I wouldn’t starve. But the kid took sadistic pleasure in beating the hell out of me. I just . . . took it. I didn’t fight back. What was the point? I wanted to die, anyway. I remember getting frustrated because he was taking so damn long. I kept thinking, ‘would you just hurry it up already? Stab me already, or just shoot me. Get it over with. End it. End me.’”

He paused for a long, long time. 

“Then it all came to a head,” he finally spoke up again. His voice was a barely audible whisper, even to Eliot. “The kid, he–he came to where I was being held. He beat me, as he did. Took a wooden club and hit me until I could barely breathe. I was already weak enough. But he just kept . . . going . He kept hitting me over and over and over again. And I thought . . . this must be it. This must finally be it. But . . . I didn’t feel relieved. I felt fear.”

That self-preservation instinct is a stubborn fucker, Eliot thought numbly to himself.

“He took a dagger to my eye. He . . . dragged the blade down my face, over my eye,” Lee said, miming the gesture with numb detachment. “He made it as agonizing as he could. He wanted me hurt . And he put the knife to my throat . . .”

Lee trailed off. His throat clenched tight as he struggled for the words.

“I killed them.”

He gasped out a bitter, tortured sob.

“All three of them. I killed them.” Lee furiously wiped at his eyes, looking away. “The wolf–it didn’t want to die. So it–it . . . god it tore right through them. I still remember their scent. Their screams. Their blood.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliot offered. He tried to reach out a hand to place on Lee’s shoulder, but he shied away, standing and turning away from Eliot.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I put myself in that position. And I got three people killed for it–I killed a kid. What sort of fucking monster am I?”

Eliot took a moment to think. He knew Lee’s pain far more intimately than he would have liked. And he thought, what would he say to himself back then? What were the words a younger, much more damaged Eliot needed to hear?

“You’re a man . . . who was failed at every step in his life,” Eliot finally said. “Your father failed you when he left you before you were even born. You were failed when you had no one to turn to, no one to teach you anything . You were hurting, and hurting bad. And at some point . . . the hurt becomes too much and all you want is a way out. Whatever that is, you’d do anything to get the pain to just stop.”

Lee glanced over his shoulder at Eliot. He was still shaking, still raw and numb from bearing his very soul to Eliot. But from Eliot’s expression alone, he sensed a great deal of sympathy and understanding.

“I’ve done a lot of things I regret. I’ve done a lot of things I will never be forgiven for. I’ve got blood on my hands, too,” Eliot confessed. “But the difference is I chose to do those things. Those decisions will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I made those choices, and I need to live with them. But you? There wasn’t a choice. It was just . . . survival.”

“But I still made the choice to send myself out there. If I hadn’t gone and gotten myself captured–”

“You didn’t choose to be taken hostage and tortured. You didn’t deserve that,” Eliot insisted. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I can blame myself for being so stupid . I should have known the wolf wouldn’t let me die–I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.”

“You said a while ago that hating the wolf was like hating yourself,” Eliot said. “So, maybe that means that hating yourself . . . is also hating the wolf. Lee, what happened was a horrible tragedy. But you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. What good is it doing you? You deserve peace and forgiveness, same as anyone else. You need to forgive yourself for what happened.”

Lee wanted to laugh. Forgive himself? He didn’t deserve that.

“Forgiveness isn’t easy, especially giving it to yourself. Maybe you think you don’t deserve it because how can you ever forget what you did? Maybe you shouldn’t forget. Maybe you’ll carry their memory for the rest of your life. Maybe you need to remember, so you can remind yourself to always do better. Never forget. But forgive yourself . You deserve it. And so does the wolf.”

Lee stood there for a long while, mulling over his words, wrestling with his own self-loathing and doubt. He shook his head.

“You speak with a great deal of wisdom,” he finally said. “But it’s . . . it’s not an easy thing you’re asking me to do.”

“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy. But that’s what makes it worth working for,” Eliot said, echoing Lee’s own words from just the day before. Lee’s eyes sparked in recognition. “I’ll never think less of you for what happened. And this doesn’t leave this room. I won’t tell anyone else what happened.”

“Yes, thank you, I’d–I’d rather keep this between us,” Lee said.

“I’m just . . . I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“And . . . I guess I’m sorry for putting myself through that,” Lee said, a small bitter smile on his face. “But that’s why I wanted to help you. I just . . . I can’t let anyone else feel that pain.”

“And that makes you a good man,” Eliot said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Because if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what the fuck I’d do.”

That got Lee to choke out a bark of laughter.

“There’s just one thing that I need to clarify about your story,” Eliot went on. “There’s this detail that’s been bugging me–how long were you in those caves?”

Lee shook his head, frowning slightly. “Um, roughly three or four months.”

“Yeah, months. Plural. Now I may not be an astronomer, but doesn’t the full moon happen every thirty days?”

“Twenty-nine and a half, but I understand what you’re getting at,” Lee said. He gestured to Eliot to follow him, and he led him to his bedroom. Lee went to his dresser, topped with all sorts of eclectic knick-knacks, and grabbed a pearlescent rock.

Lee held it carefully in his hand, holding it out to Eliot. “Moonstone. It’s . . . extremely precious to a werewolf.”

Eliot nodded. “What does it do?”

“It does . . . anything you want it to, really. It channels the light of the moon to enhance your strength as a werewolf. You probably haven’t noticed it yet, but the further away from the full moon, the weaker your werewolf form is. Mind you, it’s still more than strong enough to hurt someone, but the lapse is noticeable. Moonstone can give you a significant powerboost when the moon wanes.”

“Sounds like something Don’s eager to get his hands on,” Eliot noted.

“Precisely. They’re not easy to use, and they take a while to ‘recharge’ after you use them, but any werewolf vying for power would love to get their claws on a cache of these,” Lee said. “That’s not all it can do. It can also trap the light of the moon.” He paused for dramatic emphasis. “It can prevent a werewolf from turning on the full moon.”

Eliot gaped. “Wha–how does it do that?!”

“I don’t know, it just– does . But I know it works–I’ve used it for years to keep myself under control, I had it on me when I was taken prisoner. But going for extensive periods without changing has dire consequences. The more you trap, imprison, suppress your wolf . . . the angrier it gets.”

Eliot kept nodding. Imprisonment and torture had been bad enough, but the wolf was already furious after so long without being free–Lee had been a walking time bomb.

“Not just any moonstone will do. It has to have the right clarity and the right quality–it’s a bit complicated, but not all moonstones can channel moonlight and not all moonstones can prevent a turning. There’s a certain . . . essence to them, I guess.”

“Essence?” Eliot asked skeptically.

Lee held it out to him, seeing his skepticism. “Here. Feel it for yourself.”

Eliot took the rock, feeling its weight in his hand. Cold to the touch, as rocks were. Surprisingly heavy for its size. And then his whole body felt heavy. Like gravity was slowly and subtly pressing down all around him. A sudden wave of fatigue hit him like a freight train.

He put down the moonstone, and the sensation vanished. He blinked.

“What the hell.”

“My mother had always been big on folklore and mythology,” Lee explained. “She found this ancient wive’s tale about moonstone, there was nothing to lose so we tried it. Imagine our surprise when we found it was true. You just . . . channel its energy on the full moon, and you remain human.”

“Channel it? How?” Eliot pressed.

Lee hesitated. “I . . . no, Eliot, you shouldn’t know. It’s a mistake to suppress it. It’ll come back to bite you in the worst way. It’s not worth it. Trust me.”

“I have a team that depends on me, I can’t always afford to take one day off a month–!”

“And then you’ll make excuses for the next month, and the month after that, and the month after that , and soon a whole year will pass without turning and now when you finally let loose there’s no hope of controlling yourself!” Lee shouted with panicked fury. “If you want to help your friends, you need to learn how to control the wolf. And this is not it. Dire emergencies only . And even then, I won’t show you. I learned my lesson. I’m not letting you repeat that mistake.”

Lee stood before Eliot, steadfast and firm. There was a conviction in his eyes and voice that showed Eliot this was one thing he would not be swayed on. And as aggravating as it may be, Eliot could respect Lee’s integrity to not let him take the easy way out. Eliot had to defer to Lee’s judgment on this. Moonstone was like cheating, and to truly master himself, he couldn’t afford to take any shortcuts.

“Alright. Fine,” Eliot relented. “But this stuff’s clearly valuable, and Don’s convinced there’s more of this moonstone in those woods. He’s digging for more of it.”

“And he needs me out of the way so I can’t get to it first,” Lee muttered thoughtfully. “As if Don needs to be any stronger than he already is–”

“My team can try to stall him. But if I’m forced into another confrontation with him–” Eliot trailed off. He hated to say it. He had an impeccable track record so far, but there was no getting around being utterly outclassed in every way against full-blooded werewolves. He needed to get on their level and fast , otherwise his whole team was defenseless.

They were counting on him.

“I understand,” Lee said. “It might be worth investing in some silver bullets as an emergency backup, it’s a devastating weakness.”

“I’ve noticed,” Eliot commented dryly.

“Also, if you can find it, try to get your hands on some wolfsbane–it’s a plant also known as monkshood, but it can be extremely difficult to find.”

“Right, that , I know of it. Isn’t it poisonous?” Eliot asked.

“Extremely. But it can weaken a werewolf if it’s ingested. It has a similar effect on werewolves as catnip does on cats.”

Eliot stared. “It gets werewolves high?”

“Knocks the fight right out of you,” he said with a nod. Lee hesitated for a moment, then went back to his kitchen cabinet and rummaged through the shelves. He returned with a jar carefully cradled in his hands: the jar of wolfsbane. “Here. I’ve collected and dried some of the flowers. They cost . . . an exorbitant amount just to procure, and don’t get me started on the lengths I had to go to smuggle them here. But if you’re going to take down Don, then you should have this.”

Eliot took the jar. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Lee said with a resolute nod. “I’ve been relying on it too much to keep the wolf placid. I’ve been doing . . . practically everything except facing my problems head-on. I think I should try that for a change.”

“Well, thank you, I’ll make sure we put it to good use. And, again, thank you for saving my ass back out there,” Eliot said.

“Don’t thank me yet, we’re still far from out of the woods. Proverbially speaking,” Lee said, allowing a small laugh. “Here, I’ll give you some directions in how I prepare it, and . . . I’ll also give you the details for this clothing brand I found,” he added, gesturing to his shorts.

“Oh, right, uh . . . it seems to hold up well.”

“Extremely elastic and durable and it doesn’t lose its shape,” Lee said. “They’re expensive, but it’s a small price to pay for holding onto some small scrap of dignity every time you turn. The only thing worse than my grocery bill is my clothing bill, with all the shirts and pants I’ve shredded over the years–”

Eliot had a sudden horrific thought. Nate and the rest of the team found him in the warehouse. And sometime during that night, Nate transported him from that warehouse back to the pub–

Oh, Jesus Christ, they saw me naked, didn’t they?

Lee recognized that expression anywhere. “Friends got a good view of two full moons that night, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, Lee.”

“Right, right , sorry,” he said, barely suppressing a snicker. Sympathetic, sure, but unable to not laugh at the whole absurdity of it all. “Here’s the manufacturer and where you can find them online–go two sizes larger than normal, you’ll need the extra room–hey do you know how to sew?”

“Do stitches count?”

“. . . yeah, sure, that works.”

“Why?”

“Well, because, you’ll need to make a little hole in the waistband for your tail,” Lee said very slowly, almost regretfully.

Eliot closed his eyes. How was this getting worse and worse?

“Trust me, you don’t want your shorts riding up on the underside of your tail, you’ll rub yourself raw and it is painful –”

“ALRIGHT I GET IT!”

“Just warning you–”

“I know! I know! Just–can we move on?!” 

“Um, sure,” Lee said. It was hard not to laugh at Eliot’s discomfort, only because Lee had been there and he knew full well what that’s like. But for Eliot’s sake he backed off and recommended a few styles and even got him a promotional code for expedited delivery. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Eliot pulled out a notebook from his bag. “While I’m here, might as well get this over with,” he muttered as he tossed Lee the extensive list of questions. Lee read them over.

“Um, ok, first of all, no , you can’t turn from drinking water from a wolf’s paw print, it has to be a bite–and not a scratch, either, lycanthropy is transferred in the saliva. Just the saliva,” he emphasized. “And . . . from parent to offspring, obviously, but you can’t turn your partner just by having sex. Unless you bite them during sex, but it’s the bite that turns them, not–”

“Get on with it,” Eliot snarled.

Lee cleared his throat with a noise that sounded suspiciously like choked-back laughter. “Ok, we’ve talked about wolfsbane and moonstone, silver’s obvious, but those are the big three you need to worry about. You can heal from practically anything short of decapitation–you unfortunately can’t regenerate lost body parts, but if you happen to get a finger cut off and stitch it back on, you can save that–”

“What about your eye?” Eliot asked. “Shouldn’t that have healed?”

Lee paused. “I was very weak when I escaped those caves. I was starved, dehydrated, exhausted . . . It took everything I had just to survive. Every spare scrap of energy I had left went into making sure I got out alive. So some injuries couldn’t fully heal, not even with the werewolf’s strength.”

Eliot nodded, and remained quiet as Lee got lost in thought for a moment before returning to the pages.

“Most of these other origin myths are false,” Lee continued after a time. “And what the hell’s up with ‘throw clothes at a werewolf and call their name to turn them back?’”

“I know, right?!”

Lee and Eliot went over the questions for a while longer, jotting down notes or poking fun at the more outlandish theories. But Lee was still exhausted after his confrontation with Jacob and Eliot didn’t want to impose any longer than he needed to. He had his own mission in mind.

“I should get going. I have work to do. You stay safe and take care,” Eliot said.

“You too,” Lee said. “And call me up whenever you want or if you have any more questions.”

“Same goes for you. If you need anything, or if Don tries anything with you, let me know right away.”

“I will, thank you.”

Eliot headed out and back to the restaurant. He still needed to fill in the team with more of Don’s potential plans. But only one thing was on his mind: he needed to master this whole werewolf thing or he and his team were dead in the water against Don and his pack.

He refused to let his team down.

Chapter Text

Some time later, Eliot arrived back at the pub and raced upstairs to see everyone else hard at work: Hardison was standing in front of the TVs going over building blueprints, Parker was writing notes on a paper copy of the same blueprints, and Nate and Sophie were standing together, heads bowed together and talking fervently, but they all stopped and stared when Eliot entered the room.

“Eliot! What on earth happened to you?!” Sophie exclaimed, noticing all the blood on his clothes and the bandages. “You look terrible!”

“Run-in with another one of Don’s goons,” Eliot grumbled, shrugging off her concern. “He’s looking for moonstone.”

“You’re sure?” Nate asked carefully. 

“I’m sure.” He then regaled everything that happened, from the fight with Jacob and how Lee rushed to his aid, and their follow-up conversation about moonstone and even how to use the wolfsbane. He talked about everything except Lee’s time in the desert. That secret Eliot would never dare disclose.

Nate paced as Eliot talked, thinking. “Great, great , so now Don wants to get his hands on something that’ll make him even more dangerous, that’s just perfect . . .”

“So what do we do?” Parker asked. “We can’t just run another con on him, he already knows who we are. Not to mention he’ll know if any of us try to break into his home or office.”

“He knows our faces, but he doesn’t know our game,” Nate said. “Hardison, your name and identity label you as the owner of the pub, right?”

“Well, one of my aliases, but yeah,” Hardison said. “Can’t exactly put down Alec Hardison on the title without flagging every CIA and FBI agent within the next five states.”

“Right, but Nathan Ford has no official ties here. Neither does Harry Popandocolus.”

“You did not seriously use that ridiculous lawyer alter ego of yours–” Sophie sighed exasperatedly. 

“Yeah but Harry still has a solid alibi as a CEO of a mining company. We can still work with that.”

“But why would Don want anything to do with the mining company now?” Eliot pressed. “He’s already shown he doesn’t give a damn about permits or paperwork or anything like that! And now he knows we’re onto him! We have nothing to use against him!”

“Actually, we do. Eliot, your phone, please,” Nathan said, gesturing to Eliot to toss it over to Hardison, which he did. Hardison snatched it out of the air, and with a bit of fiddling, he brought up the video Eliot took of Don and one of his guys digging out in the woods.

Eliot wasn’t convinced. “This hardly proves anything malicious, or anything that could scare Don away.”

“Maybe not, but we just need to convince Don that we do,” Nathan said. “His business is the only thing we can manipulate. We can’t afford another confrontation–”

“Then I have work to do,” Eliot said, his face set with grim determination. He turned right back around and headed out of the room.

“Where are you running off to, now?” Sophie called out. 

“I’m going to bring this damn wolf of mine to heel ,” Eliot growled.

“That’s not answering my question! Where are you going?” Sophie pressed fiercely. “You can’t seriously be thinking of running back off into those woods after barely surviving a fight with Laragan’s brutes!”

“I’m not going back into the woods!” Eliot snapped.

“Eliot!” Nathan called out sharply before he could leave, and reluctantly, he stopped in the doorway. “Whatever you’re trying to do . . . can you do it here? I prefer if we all remained close after everything that’s happened. Too easy to get separated and picked apart otherwise . . .”

“Well, yeah , I guess–I just need somewhere quiet,” he relented.

“Then you can take the upstairs rooms and we won’t bother you,” Nathan said. “But for the time being, could you just keep close?”

Nathan was concerned, that much was apparent, but concerned for Eliot, not of him. For all his growling and grumbling, Eliot was feeling much the same way as Nate. He didn’t want to be too far away from the team where he couldn’t get to them quickly if something were to happen. He wanted to be close, he just didn't want to be . . . too close.

“I’ll be upstairs, then,” he finally said. “What are the rest of you going to do?”

“Slow down Laragan however we can. Who would have thought that government paperwork being so slow and tedious would work in our favor for once?” Nathan said dryly. “And just . . . prepare, however we can.”

There was a heavy silence between them of what exactly that meant, but Eliot wouldn’t leave anything up to uncertainty. He turned to Hardison.

“Take Parker, get as much silver as you can . . . and make some bullets out of it,” he told them. If the worst should happen, his team needed to be able to defend themselves.

Hardison had a grim look on his face, but nodded. Funny how just the day before Eliot was furious at Hardison for pointing a silver weapon at Eliot, and now it was Eliot telling him to arm himself with that same silver. Needs and musts and all that. With a nod of agreement from Nate, they headed out. 

Eliot retreated upstairs for some solitude and space. Upstairs was another bedroom and an office, with Eliot taking the office and situating himself in the middle of the room, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. He got as comfortable as he could, eyes closed, back straight but shoulders relaxed, hands resting on his legs as he began to breathe.

Deep, slow, even breaths. Five seconds inhale. Two seconds hold. Five seconds exhale.

And repeat.

He sensed the world around him. He felt the rug beneath him and the cold hard tile beneath that. He could hear the sounds of cars passing through the street outside, he could hear the faintest hints of chatter. He could hear distant sirens, the occasional honk of a car horn, the ambient noises of the city just outside the room.

He smelled things, too. He smelled the lingering scent of Nathan’s cologne and Sophie’s perfume. He could smell the cloying scents of the recent lunch rush, he could even smell the fermenting hops of their brewery in the levels below. He smelled the metal tang of pipes, the sharp hits of bleach from cleaning supplies, the fragrance of candles.

He acknowledged all those sensations, and let them pass.

In, and out. Deep breaths. Let them flow.

He let the world fall away from him. He drew himself inwards. He let his consciousness fall into a deep and empty, peaceful black–

A sudden blaring screech from a car horn right outside jolted Eliot from his meditation, making his eyes snap open. Eliot growled in frustration as he closed his eyes and tried to once again find that dark empty center–

People were arguing loudly. Eliot could very nearly make out words, but he tried to shake it off. He needed to concentrate –

Another police siren whined loudly as it approached, and it seemed to stop right outside the pub, the siren still blasting, as whatever altercation took place literally right outside their door.

Eliot snarled. Just ignore it. Ignore all of it, push the sounds from your head, and focus.

He kept his eyes closed. He kept breathing. In time, the sirens faded, the noises ceased, everything became calm. Even his thoughts quieted, falling silent, his mind empty and blank. He let everything around him fall away. He let everything fade to black, he felt the world around him grow distant and quiet as he fell inward, into an abyssal empty void.

And then it was just him. Him in an endless empty silence. He kept breathing, kept drawing himself inwards. Searching for the wolf that lurked within.

And he knew he was not alone.

It was more of a feeling like an unsettling churning in his gut that something else was there with him. He could feel something primal stalking in his periphery. His initial reaction was to be on guard, to be on the defensive, but he fought back those instincts. He needed to open up to it–

But it was much easier said than done. He felt the eyes of the wolf on him, he felt its roiling anger and suspicion, and he felt it on its guard just as much as he was. It refused to trust him so readily.

Damn it, it really is me.

Eliot tried to mentally extend a hand to it, and he felt that primal anger swell. In turn, so did Eliot’s own temper.

I’m trying to help you, asshole–

A furious snarl greeted him as there was a flash of white dagger teeth and gleaming golden eyes–

Eliot jumped back with a start, gasping loudly. His eyes snapped open and he was back in the office, alone.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

****

Making silver bullets wasn’t nearly as hard as Hardison feared it might be. For one thing, silver was a soft metal with a relatively low melting temperature (at least compared to other metals). It was also easy to come by, but that was mostly because he had Parker at his side who knew the best places to get high-purity silver very quickly. In one hour, Parker procured a bag full of the stuff, more than enough for a hundred bullets.

And given this was America with plenty of gun nuts, finding a guide to make their own bullets was also concerningly easy. Especially with Eliot pointing him in the right direction; having grown up in rural Oklahoma, he learned from his dad how to reload ammunition for hunting when he was a teenager.

The toughest part was just finding a crucible for them to melt all this silver and forming the correct sized mold to pour in the silver. But Hardison was a very artistic, resourceful type. After all the props he’d managed to pull off for all their earlier cons, finding an appropriately sized casting mold and making custom silver bullets was easy. Time consuming, sure, and everything had to be measured very precisely, but hardly challenging.

In just a few short hours, Hardison had crafted just over two dozen silver bullets, giving six to each of them, save for Eliot.

Parker turned the bullet over in her fingers, a contemplative frown on her face. “I don’t like this,” she decided.

Hardison tried to gauge what exactly Parker was feeling. She never had qualms about using weapons before. Was she really so hung up about the silver? “The silver’s going to good use, don’t worry,” Hardison said. “Remember, this is just for emergencies. Better to have them and not need them, than to need them and not have them, right?”

“It’s not just that. This could hurt Eliot. I mean, really hurt him,” Parker said. “We’re carrying around the one thing that could actually kill him. I don’t know if I like that.”

Hardison understood. She was still feeling very guilty about the dagger incident, and now she was holding in her hands the same devastating weapon.

“This isn’t for Eliot. This is for Don and all his other dogs if they try anything with us,” he encouraged. “I don’t like it, either. But . . . Parker, we’re going against some very scary guys. We need to be prepared.”

“I know. I just don’t like it, is all,” she huffed, stuffing the ammunition away. “But we’re not going to need it, right? Eliot will figure it out. He has to.”

Hardison smiled and pulled her in for a hug. “Yeah. He’ll figure it out, don’t worry. And when he does, you can pet him all you like and find out just how fluffy he really is.”

“You think he’ll let me?”

“Oh, hell naw. But what’s he gonna do about it? Eat you?”

Parker laughed, and with that thought in her head, it cheered her up. She will pet a werewolf one of these days, she just knew it. But first, they had a few more things to do.

Nathan and Sophie, with a very similar grim solemnity when given the silver bullets, were dressed and ready to go, both donning their respective personas for another confrontation with Don Laragan. And this time, fully prepared.

“Ready?” Nathan asked. Parker nodded, and they set off to give Don a visit at his office.

Nathan and Sophie strode into the office together, Parker lingering a bit behind. The receptionist only briefly looked up at them before reaching to the desk phone to make a call, but she was barely on the phone for five seconds when down the hall walked Don Laragan himself, smiling quite smugly at the two of them.

He has such a punchable face, Nathan thought to himself.

“Well! What a surprise! Harry Pop-And-Circumstance and Miss Cathaway! To what do I owe the pleasure!” Don said, acting far too calm and casual.

“We need to talk,” Nathan said calmly, keeping his hands in his pockets and his jacket loosely buttoned to conceal his gun.

“Of course! Is this about your latest acquisition? I hope the pup isn’t already giving you trouble!” Don said. “But as I said before, if you ever need my assistance–”

Nathan strode up, glaring down Don. “Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere a bit more private,” he said thinly. 

“Right, of course, right down here to my office,” he said, waving them down and past the still-incredibly-bored receptionist. They stepped into the office, Don closing the door behind them as he strode around back to his desk to sit down. Nathan and Sophie sat as well, perching on the edges of their seats.

“I think you’ll be happy to know we will not be needing your assistance in anything ,” Nathan started again, speaking low and dangerously. “Eliot, despite your interference, is actually doing very well.”

Don shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by that. And I can guarantee you, he’s not doing as well as you think he is. Wounded animals will never reveal just how hurt they are until things turn very dire.”

“And who exactly should we be blaming for wounding him?” Sophie accused. “Cory, for biting him? Or Jacob, for nearly beating him into the ground?”

Don paused, still grinning that insufferable grin. “I’m sorry, but if you could humor me: how exactly do you two know each other, and what’s your relationship with Eliot? I have a jewel sales rep and an owner of a mining company, how exactly does that mesh?”

“Well, if you’re really so dense that you can’t put the pieces together yourself, I guess I’ll save you the brainpower and do all that hard work for you,” Nathan said condescendingly. “I dig, I find pretty rocks, I sell them to her, she sells them to fancy ladies who like shiny rocks, it’s that simple.”

“And very odd both of you should approach me within a day of each other–”

“Except, no , it’s not, if you take a moment to expend the bare minimum of thought,” Sophie went on, continuing on Nathan’s not-so-subtle jeering. “You told me you had a wellspring of precious ores and gems somewhere you can’t reach. I happen to know a man who can get permission to dig in places no one else can. He digs, you find the gems, you sell them to me, I sell to the shareholders. Everyone wins. It’s not that complicated. Honestly.”

Don’s smile had now faded into a very irritated frown, and Nate allowed a brief moment of satisfaction to see their cajoling had riled him up. “And Eliot?”

“Works for me,” Nathan said. “He’s one of my best. You attacked him, and I take that personally.”

“Now, as I explained before, what happened was an accident–”

“And I really don’t care what you’re intending to tell me, or whatever sorry-ass excuse you have planned to pull out of your ass,” Nathan seethed, now rising to his feet and leaning over Don’s desk. “I don’t want to hear it. All I want you to know . . . is that I’m revoking my contract with you to dig in the national park.”

Don’s eyes briefly flickered from confusion to shock to anger, before fading back to indifference. Interesting reaction, but not surprising. “Oh? But We’ve already signed all the contracts–”

“No you haven’t. I’ve been saving one final document of certified permission from the EPA, very tricky to get, but since you’ve gone and pissed me off, I’m revoking it. Deal’s off. And furthermore, I’ll have my men keep a very close eye on your operation. If I so much as get a whiff of unsanctioned digging, I’ll bring the EPA down so hard on your ass that heads will roll.”

As Nathan suspected, Don hardly looked threatened. He even looked amused. “Oh? Is that so? The poor, exhausted, overworked EPA, stretched so thin and gutted so thoroughly from decades of budget cuts, those horrible, terrible, ruthless people, they’re gonna stop me?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Nathan said. He could see Don bite back some laughter.

“You really don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you?”

“I have a good idea, and you may be a vicious bully, but I reckon you’re no murderer. Otherwise you would have done something by now,” Nathan said.

Don suddenly had a devilish look on his face and leaned forward. “That’s right. I’m no murderer. But do you know who is?”

Nathan paused as Don leaned in even closer. 

“Lee Thriggs.”

Nathan blanched, and even Sophie’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“The–the reporter?” Sophie said.

“One and the same. And I know he was out there in the woods when my man Jacob met with Eliot. The two were just talking, when Lee came out of nowhere and tried to kill Jacob–”

“You’re a lying son of a bitch!”

“He tried to kill Jacob the same way he killed those terrorists who kept him hostage in Afghanistan.”

Nathan’s voice died in his throat. The room grew so deathly quiet he could hear a pin drop.

“Yeah. That’s right. Lee killed them. Because he couldn’t control himself. The same way Eliot will turn around and kill the people closest to him if he is not properly trained.”

“I know you’ve been talking to Lee,” Don went on. He stood, his presence dominating, not stopping for even a moment for Nate or Sophie to recover. “I know you think you can get the help you need from him, but let me tell you, you’re dead wrong. Whatever Lee’s teaching Eliot–it won’t work. Trust me, I know. I mean, who are you going to believe? I have my men–they’re good men. Loyal and hard working and honest. They may not be perfect. They all have their flaws. But you are right about one thing. They’re not killers. They’re not like Lee.”

“Now, I ask again . . . are you  really so proud and vain you’re willing to risk your friends’ lives? Are you willing to sacrifice hers?” He pointed at Sophie. “He’ll kill her. It’ll only take a second, just one second where his guard falls, and out come the teeth and claws. Are you really so far gone you’d let Eliot live with that guilt for the rest of his life?”

Nathan slowly closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He knew some of the things Eliot did in his past. He knew Eliot did terrible, unspeakable things. What exactly those things were didn’t matter. All that mattered was knowing Eliot lived with that guilt. Lived every day with that blood on his hands.

“There’s just . . . one little thing you don’t know about Eliot,” Nathan finally spoke up. “Eliot’s not dangerous because he’s a werewolf. Eliot’s dangerous . . . because he’s Eliot.”

With that, Nathan turned and stormed out of the room, Sophie right on his heels.

Nathan wasn’t even out of the building before he put a hand to his ear, speaking into his earpiece. “Parker, you have two minutes to get out.”

“I’ll be out in ninety seconds,” she responded. 

“Nate, wait, are we going to talk about this?!” Sophie said in a hushed whisper, chasing off after him. “What Don said about Lee–!”

“Yeah, I suspected as much,” Nathan said quietly. 

“You . . . suspected?!”

“Look, we knew Don had something on Lee, something big and bad that happened over in Afghanistan,” Nathan said, turning back to Sophie. “And if Lee’s a werewolf, the possibilities aren’t as limitless as you might think.”

Sophie was still reeling. “But–if what Don said is true, about Lee not being able to help–”

“Sophie, I need you to remember that, as contradictory as this may sound, Don is still very much human. And like many humans, Don is a scheming, lying, manipulative son of a bitch,” Nathan said. “You’re the best grifter I know, and are you telling me you couldn’t see past what stunt Don was trying to pull dropping that bombshell on us?”

She took a breath. Admittedly, the whole state of . . . everything had been horribly distracting for her. It was all she could do to keep her own persona straight. But thinking back on the conversation, watching his reaction, his expressions, the words he used, what got under his skin and what he did in response. And she reflected on all of that and knew, even in the moment, that Don was indeed a scheming, lying, manipulative son of a bitch.

“Don works by instilling fear and doubt, preying on a person’s guilt and deepest insecurities. He found out about Lee . . . and has been using that one moment of darkness to lord over him ever since. What did you say earlier . . . something about a self-fulfilling prophecy? Lee needs to believe he’s a monster to actually be one? Don needs Lee to doubt himself so he can control him. It’s the basis of every manipulation tactic,” Sophie said out loud. “And he’s using that same tactic to make us turn on Eliot. And I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or infuriated that I almost fell for it.”

“Well, like you said, he preys on a person’s fears and doubts. And right now I think it’s safe to say we’re all a bit . . . off our game. And you said it yourself; we’re all scared. And Don knows it. He’s trying to get us to tear ourselves apart. So whatever he says, we can’t let that sway us.”

Sophie let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, that poor man, Lee . . . do you think Eliot knows?”

“He may have his suspicions, too. But we’ll keep it to ourselves for now.”

“Is it terrible of me that I’m still questioning if Lee can really help Eliot?”

“Are you asking that because of what Don said?”

“I’m asking because if neither Don nor Lee can help Eliot, I don’t know what we’re going to do!” Sophie said. “I don’t want anything else happening to him, he’s been through enough already.”

“Hey, you’re the one who kept telling me we’re gonna figure this out,” Nathan said gently, cupping her face. “And we will . We will figure this out. Because we’re a team, and that’s what we do.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most steel-tight reassurance as a well-thought out yet obscenely convoluted plan like Sophie was so used to. There were still so many unknowns and so many variables. But one thing was constant: them. They had been through dire straits before. And they always managed to get through. And they’d get through this the exact same way: by being who they are.

With that conviction in mind, Sophie walked back to the car where Parker was already sitting in the back, a huge bag spilled out in front of her as she rummaged through her stolen loot. While Nathan and Sophie were busy talking to Don, Parker was sneaking into Don’s stash of precious gems and stole up all the moonstone she could find–and anything else she could carry.

Parker hefted a chunk of the uncut rock in her hands. “Does this really give werewolves super powers?”

“Well, it gives them . . . enhanced strength. Or something,” Nathan said unsurely. “Uh . . . we need to ask Eliot about it.”

“So no laser vision?” Parker said, sounding disappointed.

“No . . . no, I don’t think it gives werewolves laser vision.”

“That’s lame.”

But they had what they came here for; with Don bereft of a vast majority of his moonstone, he would get desperate and go dig for more of it, and that’s when they would catch him in the act. Not to mention royally piss him off and potentially do something reckless and stupid. 

They drove back to the pub, where Hardison was casually working on his computer in silence. Nathan and Sophie helped drag in the box of rocks just in time to see a very disgruntled Eliot storm down the stairs and head for the kitchen. 

Nathan paused. “Hey, uh . . . how’s it going?”

A furious glare was Eliot’s only answer as he made himself lunch, grabbed himself a beer, and stormed right back upstairs. Nathan glanced back at the rest of the team who just shrugged.

“I think we should give him a bit more space,” Nathan advised as they surveyed their loot. He pulled out a few chunks of rock that definitely weren’t moonstone. He glanced at Parker, who just had a very guilty kid-caught-with-their-hand-in-the-cookie-jar look before giving Nate a very sheepish smile.

“What? I like pretty rocks,” she said. “Even when they’re not cut yet.”

“Don is going to lose it,” Hardison grinned.

“Yeah, that’s what we’re counting on,” Nathan said.

“And if Don can use this stuff . . . Eliot can too, right? Theoretically?” Parker asked. Nathan shrugged, and with that, Parker grabbed a chunk of moonstone and rushed up the stairs after Eliot.

“Parker, wait–!” Nate called, but she was already off. 

She barged right into the room Eliot was in, seeing him sitting in the middle of the room and glowering darkly at her. She just saddled right up to him, the moonstone clutched in her hands. 

“Hey, Eliot. Whatcha doing?” she said.

“What are you doing?” he countered.

“Well, I have this chunk of moonstone, and I wanted to see what would happen if you touched it. You said it gives you superpowers.”

“It doesn’t give me superpowers,” Eliot growled. “I already tried it with Hardison, it doesn’t do anything. And Lee wouldn’t show me how to use it–”

“Prove it,” Parker said, holding it out to him.

“You know, the last time you made me hold something, I nearly burned my hand off.”

“Yeah . . . I’m really sorry about that. But I can promise you, this is definitely not silver.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“So touch it.”

Eliot glared at her. “If I touch the stupid rock, will you leave me alone?”

Parker nodded eagerly, and with a begrudging sigh, Eliot grabbed the moonstone. 

Just like before, Eliot hefted the rock in his hand, feeling its weight and its coolness against his skin. It didn’t feel heavy, like when he was with Lee. It felt like a normal rock.

He stared at it as he waited for . . . something to happen. Even Parker leaned in, holding her breath. But it was just an ugly jagged rock with all rough edges, somewhat translucent, slightly off-white in color. Eliot felt his grip tighten over the rock. Yeah, it was an ugly looking thing, but even he could appreciate its hidden beauty–

Parker was watching Eliot carefully, and saw he was staring . . . a little too intently at that rock. His eyes were fixated on it, as if mesmerized.

“Uh, Eliot . . . ?” she asked.

He completely ignored her. He felt . . . he was actually feeling pretty great right now. All his frustrations and irritations were just fading away. And he felt . . . oddly happy. He felt a surging rush of adrenaline, almost like a high. 

He felt powerful . Like he could take on the whole world.

Parker sat back, seeing what Eliot couldn’t. His eyes had suddenly turned yellow, and he was smiling a very creepy smile.

“Eliot!” she snapped sharply.

Eliot jerked, breaking him out of his trance. He looked up at Parker, seeing her expression, then stared back down at the rock which he was holding way too tightly, fingers clenched like a vice, claws digging into the stone–

He threw it as far away from him as he could, and all those happy feelings vanished. He blinked.

“Ok, new rule,” he started slowly. “You are no longer allowed to give me anything.”

“What was that?” Parker asked.

Eliot felt something similar before. It wasn’t unlike stimulants; a sudden rush of endorphins to the system, a surge of strength and power, that giddy high-like feeling that made him feel like he could take on the world. It was a drug that could make him so much stronger, exactly as Lee had warned him.

“It’s a power boost, you know, kind of like a shot of adrenaline,” he explained. “I . . . I can see why Don wants his hands on this stuff.”

“Would it . . . help you?” Parker asked carefully.

Eliot hesitated. “I don’t think it’ll help me in a way that’ll be useful. Lee warned me about it. It’s like cheating, you know?”

“What’s so bad about cheating?” Parker asked. “Come on, we’re thieves, we’re the bad guys, we’re not above cheating , we do it all the time. If it makes you stronger, that’s good, right?”

“Strength without discipline is recklessness,” Eliot said, recalling some ancient words of wisdom from his martial arts training. “It’s not just about how much power you have, it’s knowing how to use it. It doesn’t matter how strong it makes me. If I can’t control it, it just makes me a liability.”

“And is that what you’re doing up here? Trying to control it?” she said.

“Trying to, is the operative word,” Eliot sighed. “I’m trying to control myself whenever I change. But I can’t . . . I can’t crack it.”

He leaned up against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, and Parker sat by his side, knees pulled up to her chest and arms folded together. 

“Why can’t you crack it?” Parker ventured.

Eliot huffed. He had no idea how to even explain his whole meditation process to Parker. His issues were all very cerebral, and Parker was very much a tactile person who lived in the physical, real world. 

“I’m trying to make peace with myself, but I’m a suspicious, stubborn, guarded asshole. And unfortunately, that means my inner wolf is also a suspicious, stubborn, guarded asshole,” Eliot sighed.

“Have you tried giving your wolf a belly rub?” Parker asked.

“Wha–?!” Eliot scoffed furiously. “Parker, if you tried giving me a belly rub, I’d chop your hand off.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. I bet your fur’s really soft.”

“What is with you and your obsession to pet me?!”

“I always wanted a dog, that's all,” Parker said. “Foster parents never allowed it.”

“Look, Parker, this is serious ,” Eliot fumed. “If I can’t figure this out, I’m gone!”

“Wait, gone? Like gone gone? Eliot, no , you’re not allowed to leave,” Parker protested. “I mean, where would you even go?!”

“I don’t know! Just–- far! Somewhere I can’t hurt anyone.”

“Eliot, I thought we were over this, you’re not going to hurt anyone–”

“We can’t know that! What, we’re just going to hope and pray that every month we’re not gonna have another close call like the last time?! We’re going to just roll the dice that every time I get pissed off I don’t lose it and tear someone apart?! I’m not playing those odds, Parker! I’m not risking that again!” 

Parker sat back, heartbroken and frustrated. She thought Eliot understood he wasn’t dangerous! But maybe the mere potential of him being dangerous was enough to scare him so badly. Eliot knew risks and dangers better than anyone; if he thought there was any potential for a threat, he’d do anything to remove that threat.

Even if that threat was himself.

“Ok,” Parker said softly. “Ok. What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know,” Eliot admitted. “Unless you know some secret for finding inner peace or some other bullshit like that.”

Even Parker knew she was far from the best person to ask that sort of stuff, but she wanted to try. She wanted to help Eliot as much as she could, but as good as she was with cracking safes and security systems, she had no idea how to crack a person . That was Sophie’s job.

“What scares you the most about being a werewolf?” she asked.

“The fact that I can’t control it,” he huffed. “The fact that I can’t remember a damn thing about that night. It’s all black. I saw the video, but it didn’t jog anything from my memory! Anything could have happened and I would have no idea.”

“You hate leaving things to chance,” Parker nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. It’s like when I run into a Ramstein 65-GX with a rolling tumbler but then I realize halfway through there’s actually an eight-digit passcode and I need to crack that first so now I need to go find a fingerprint to spoof the system–”

Eliot was glaring at her. She swallowed.

“Point is, you hate not knowing things. And if you know things, you can control things, and control is . . . everything.”

“Lee said it’s not about control, though. It’s about ‘ cooperation,’” Eliot tried explaining, though not without some bitter sarcasm at the word cooperation . “He says I can’t control it, but I don’t buy that, I need to control it–”

Parker had a sudden thought. “Have you ever tried controlling me?”

That got Eliot to stop dead in his tracks, blinking in utter confusion. “What? Control you? No way. There’s no controlling you, you’re a total loose cannon--”`

“But you cooperate with me all the time,” she pointed out.

“Well, yeah , we’re a team–”

“And a team works together to pick up where the other leaves off. I pick locks, you punch people, Nate does the planning, Hardison hacks computers, and Sophie does her weird people-mind-control powers. We don’t always ask how we do what we do, we just know we can be depended upon to do our job, however that job gets done. We don’t control what everyone else does, but we trust them to do what they need to do. I think it’s like that,” Parker said. “You need to trust your wolf. You need to trust that it’s not going to do anything you wouldn’t do.”

“Yeah, well, trust is earned . And it hasn’t had much of an opportunity to gain that trust.”

“Have you given it an opportunity?”

A brief pause indicated that to be a resounding no. Like anything else, it was going to take time and patience. The only thing was, Eliot feared he wasn’t going to get the time he needed.

Parker bumped her shoulder against Eliot. “I think if you give it a chance, you’ll see you’ve had nothing to fear all along.”

She stood and walked out of the room. Before she did so, she rummaged around and grabbed the chunk of moonstone Eliot had thrown across the room.

“I think I’m going to take this. And hide the rest,” she said.

“Yeah, you do that,” Eliot grimaced.

With that, Parker headed downstairs and left Eliot alone. He took a breath, closed his eyes.

And tried again.

****

WHERE IS IT?

Don furiously tore apart the store room, turning over every table and box and crate in a frenzy.

“Where is it?! Where the HELL is it?!” 

It was gone.  All of it, gone.

His meticulously kept collection of raw moonstone had completely vanished without a trace, their little spot on the shelves empty and bare. There had been dozens of high-quality samples in there! All his reserves, all his years of excruciating work, all his perfect stones, all gone!

And he knew who did it.

“Harry.” That son of a bitch! While he was distracting Don, he had one of his lackeys break in and steal it! There was no other explanation! Don checked the stock every morning when he arrived and right before he left, it couldn’t have just walked off!

His own men knew the consequences for taking even a single stone from him! That collection was HIS!

And Don was going to get it back. He’d tear that man apart if he had to–hell, he’d do it right in front of Eliot. He’d do it in front of all those infuriating humans who thought they could get the better of him!

And he knew where to find them.

He grabbed his crew–all four of them–and they piled into his truck, driving at break-neck speed over to the brewhouse Don had found Eliot. Harry would be there, he just knew it. And if not, he’d make sure of it.

When he was only two blocks away, he saw the entire street was closed down, blockaded with cones and traffic barriers. Some curious passersby slowed to a crawl as they walked past, stretching their necks to see whatever commotion was going on. Don snarled, jumping out of his truck and storming over. The road was full of all sorts of construction and utility trucks, from a cement mixer to a gas truck to a few police cars directing traffic and putting up barriers.

“What the hell’s going on down here?!” Don demanded loudly to a traffic cop. The traffic cop waved him back.

“We got reports of a gas leak in the sewers under the roads, we’ve closed down the block until we can investigate.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I don’t know, a few hours? Maybe a day or two?” the cop said, annoyed. “Look, just find a way around, we can’t have anyone down here until the crews finish their work.”

Don was not to be deterred. He went around the block, only to find the entire area similarly blockaded and workers crawling absolutely everywhere. At one point, he just said fuck it and hopped the barrier, ready to storm on over to that pub on foot and shove his way through.

Don was quickly stopped by some very gruff, very irritated construction workers.

“Excuse me! You can’t be here!” one said loudly, putting out a hand to push Don back. “This is a hazardous zone! Now get out or we’ll call the cops on you for trespassing!”

Don thought quickly. “It’s my friend–he works over here–”

“Everyone’s been evacuated from the area, we checked every building,” the construction worker explained in an aggravated tone. “Now get out! This is an active construction zone and I’m not about to get my ass sued off by some dumbass pedestrian!”

You have no idea who I am! I will rip your goddamn head off! Don thought furiously. But there was no way to get through, not without causing a scene, and even in his rage he knew he had to do these things tactfully . He retreated back to his crew, waiting just outside the barriers.

“What now, boss?” Cory asked.

“They must have caused all this,” Don reasoned. “Yeah, they shut down the streets after stealing the moonstone to cover their trails. They know the pub is blown, they need somewhere else to hunker down. And we’re going to find it. Let’s move!”

Don didn’t care how far Eliot went. Don had his scent and he’d chase him to the end of the world if he had to!

Chapter Text

Nate glanced out the window, observing the controlled chaos of dozens of construction crews tearing apart the street below.

“Good work rigging that gas leak,” he complimented.

“Hey, no problem at all. After escaping a Steranko, everything else in comparison is child’s play. I mean, there’s no actual gas leak, I just had to spoof a whole bunch of sensors and make some calls and emails, and boom, the whole street’s shut down for the next few days,” Hardison said. 

It was drastic, to be sure, but it was their best chance of evading Don. Knowing how easily Don could track them down, there was no real way to escape him. So if they couldn’t get away, they made a barricade to keep him away.

 “And what about Lee? Have you managed to reach him?” Nathan asked. 

“Talked to him myself just a few hours ago and warned him that Don would go after him. And that seemed to convince him enough to come on over and lay low with us,” Hardison said. “He wasn’t happy, but I think even he knows that at this point, picking any further fights with Don is a bad idea.”

Nate nodded approvingly. “Good, good, and you asked him to bring the supplies?”

“Sure did, he’s got everything we need.”

“Excellent.” 

Lee was the one variable that worried Nathan the most. Don sure seemed like the vengeful type to go after someone if he didn’t get his way, and Don already showed he had no problem roughing up Lee. And with Don as riled as he surely was right now, it was only a matter of time before Don took all that frustration out on Lee. And Lee being close so the whole team could protect him took a load off Nate’s mind.

But with the street (and their base) secured, now it was time for them to make sure they’d have plenty of evidence, fabricated and not, to nail Don if he tried anything. Which meant going back to the national parks and setting up trail cameras to catch Don in the act. Hardison had procured a whole bunch of cameras, all Bluetooth accessible so they could watch remotely, all with high-end cameras and night vision capabilities. Hardison went to get Eliot, who was still upstairs doing . . . whatever it was he was trying to do. Eliot, who needed a break anyway, was happy for the distraction and tagged along with Hardison. Because there was no way he was letting Hardison go out into those woods without him.

They dressed in some generic park ranger looking outfits, with dark navy jeans, hiking boots, and a jacket with the park ranger logo. Hardison took a backpack for all the trail cams as well as a few other small pieces of equipment to assist in their surveillance. But first and foremost was sneaking out of the pub in the midst of all the construction, which actually worked perfectly to their advantage. As they all learned in their own ways over the years doing their respective jobs, they could go just about anywhere if they were wearing a hard hat and a hi-vis vest. All they had to do was slap those on and they blended right in, and they could get to Hardison’s van without anyone even glancing their direction.

The drive to the forest was a little over an hour away, and Eliot spent it distracting himself by fiddling with the trail cam settings. He busied himself with programming it to go off at certain intervals and how long to record and so on, repeating the process for all dozen or so cameras Hardison had packed. It was a good way to keep his mind busy.

Hardison stole the occasional glance over to Eliot. He remembered only that morning leaving Eliot’s place, only to see Eliot stumble into the bar hours later looking like he got mauled– again. But already the injuries he sustained that morning were almost totally gone–save for the wound in his stomach, which had been the worst and deepest. Even then, that just needed a patch and Eliot was good to go. It didn’t look like it even bothered him anymore.

Hardison couldn’t help but marvel at that, now that the shock had worn off. Being a proud geek, his mind whirled at all the limitless potential that came with being a werewolf. Super strength, super speed, pretty much invulnerable–already dozens of ideas of future cons sprung into his head now that Eliot was capable of superhuman feats. If Eliot was a menace before, now he was practically unstoppable. 

“So werewolves are real, yeah?” Hardison spoke up. Eliot paused what he was doing to look back over at Hardison. “So, like . . . what else is real?”

Eliot frowned, already not liking where this was going. “What do you mean?”

“I mean other supernatural monsters and stuff! Like vampires! Are vampires real? What about ghosts? Or Bigfoot? Or aliens? Eliot, be real with me, I know you’ve done some shady shit, you’d tell me if aliens were real, wouldn’t you?”

Eliot just glared at him. And Hardison swore he saw that bastard snicker.

“Come on, man, don’t play with me like that.”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

“Goddamn it, I knew it! And I damn well know the Jersey Devil is real!”

“The–what?”

“The Jersey Devil!” Hardison said. “It’s all up and down the east coast, how have you not heard of it?! I was with my Nana, I must have been like five years old, and we went camping right outside of town.”

“You went camping?” Eliot asked incredulously.

“Worst night of my life,” Hardison recounted with a horrified look. “There were mosquitoes as big as house cats, I swear–anyway, we were sleeping in this crappy little tent, and I was all snuggled up in my Star Wars sleeping bag–”

“Jesus Christ, Hardison.”

“-and I heard it! I heard it right outside my tent! This–this scraping sound of claws ripping at the tent! I tried to grab my flashlight but it was so dark I could barely see anything, but I saw it! It was this freaky deer-looking thing with big antlers and big teeth and it was trying to rip into my tent to eat me!!!”

Eliot paused. “Hardison,” he said. “Have you ever considered . . . that it may have just been a normal deer?”

“Naw, man! It was ripping at my tent!”

“Probably its antlers were just scraping against the canvas.”

“But it was attacking my tent!”

“Licking condensation off of it.”

“Man, forget you! I know what I saw! I can’t believe you, of all people, aren’t believing me! I saw the Jersey Devil, man! It’s real!”

“As real as vampires.”

“Yeah! And hey! Who knows! Those are real, too! We went all this time without knowing werewolves exist and now here I am sitting next to one! I am having an existential crisis!”

“Can you have your existential crisis after we deal with Don?”

Hardison scowled. “Yeah, man, let me just put off contemplating my entire worldview as we know it until after we deal with the werewolf mob boss, yeah, I’ll get right on that–”

They arrived at the park at one of the visitor parking lots, then hiked a few miles to the spot Eliot had seen Don and his friend digging. Eliot could see recently-churned earth and fresh soil along a rocky outcropping, signaling this was the right place. From there, it was just a matter of time as they placed the trail cams at strategic intervals and vantage points to catch the right range of view. They also had to ensure the cams were somewhat hidden so Don didn’t spot them right away.

Hardison pulled his computer out of his bag, verifying all the cameras were online and operational. “Alright, we are good to go. We’ll get a ping every time the cams snap a picture, and if we’re lucky, we’ll catch Don before long.”

“That’s going to get real annoying real quick,” Eliot muttered. “I’ve worked with trail cams before, you know how many false snaps they take? Or how many are just pictures of squirrels? A wind moves a branch and the camera goes off, you are going to go insane from all the alerts.”

“Well it’s not like I have the time nor patience to program these things to differentiate between a big object from a small one–oh wait, yes I did,” Hardison snarked sarcastically. “Normally these cameras aren’t programmed to distinguish between big objects and small objects, but I, a master hacker and programmer, can make sure it only triggers if a large enough object crosses the sensor. Like a person, and not a damn squirrel.”

Ok, that was impressive, Eliot had to admit. “And have you checked the effective range–?”

“They can differentiate between a human at 100 feet and a squirrel at two. Come on. Have a bit of faith,” Hardison said smugly. “Like I don’t know my way around a motion sensor, you know how many of those I need to mess with on a daily basis for your little cons?”

“Alright, I get it, let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be out here any longer than I need to be,” Hardison grimaced, stuffing his laptop back in his bag. “Not with werewolves and chupacabras and Jersey Devils all out there–”

“How about you just worry about the werewolves right now?”

They headed back to the van, Hardison still going on about the Jersey Devil, but Eliot was past the point of paying attention. Approaching the lot, something did catch Eliot’s attention enough to make him stop. 

Hardison saw Eliot hesitate and turned. “Uh, what is it?” he asked, trying not to sound too worried.

Eliot hushed him, raising a finger and closing his eyes to concentrate. He strained his senses to hear everything he could–then it hit him.

It was a woman’s voice, and from the tone alone, Eliot could tell she was terrified and panicked. It was too far away to make out words, but he knew a woman in distress when he heard one. He rushed towards the sound.

“Come on!” he urged Hardison as he sprinted past him.

“H-hey! Wait–!” Hardison called out, but he followed suit, cursing under his breath. Dammit, Eliot was fast!

Eliot kept going, and the closer he got, the more he could make out. She was saying the same thing over and over.

“John! JOHN!” 

She was calling out a name.

“Johnny, where are you?!”

Eliot got close enough to see a woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, clutching a colorful kid’s jacket in her hands and screaming into the woods, with three or four other people flanking her, grabbing her to keep her from running off into the woods herself. 

“We need to find him! We need to find John!” the woman was crying hysterically.

“You’re not running off in there yourself! It’s going to get dark soon, you’ll just get lost, too! We need to wait for a search and rescue team–!” one of the other gathered adults pleaded.

The mother tried to rush forward. Even from here, her panic and worry were palpable. “I need to find him! I need to find my son–! JOHNNY!! Where are you?!”

Hardison finally caught up, and saw exactly what Eliot was seeing. He grimaced and pulled out his phone.

“I’m calling the police–” he said, but Eliot cut him off.

“You think they didn’t do that already?!” Eliot fumed. “It could take them hours to mount a proper search and rescue team! And by then it’ll be dark, and the temperature’s gonna drop below freezing! That kid’s gonna die of exposure before they ever find him! We need to go after him right now!”

Hardison knew how Eliot got when kids were involved. There was no stopping him, so Hardison readied to help however he could. “So how are we going to do that?”

Eliot steeled himself. He knew what he had to do–what he needed to do. A kid’s life depended on him.

“I’m going to find him,” he resolved. 

“Okay, but how?” Hardison pressed.

Eliot turned away, finding a large stretch of brush to duck behind and began to peel off his clothes. He kicked off his boots and socks, ripped off his jacket and shirt–

Hardison’s eyes went wide. “Dude, what the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m going to find that kid! Now shut the hell up, I need to concentrate!” Eliot snarled, having stripped down to his boxers and throwing his shirt at Hardison’s face. “And don’t you dare fucking look!”

“Like I wanna see your naked ass ever again–” Hardison said, and he could feel the scathing look Eliot was giving him. He hesitantly turned around to see Eliot glaring at him with a look that could eviscerate him where he stood.

“Turn around!!!” Eliot growled.

“Ok! Ok! I’m turning around! I am not looking!” Hardison said, doing so and closing his eyes for good measure. 

Eliot snarled, swallowing his own embarrassment and humiliation. But he needed to concentrate. He needed to tune everything out and focus. He needed to find his inner wolf.

Getting back to that black empty meditative void took only moments, thanks to Eliot’s prior practice. He just needed to close his eyes and breathe, and the whole world fell away to nothing. But that still left him alone with the wolf. And though they’ve “met” before–many times, in fact-Eliot still had yet to establish that trust and connection he desperately needed right now.

The wolf stalked before him in his mind’s eye, growling warningly. It didn’t trust him. It didn’t like him. It barely tolerated Eliot being here to begin with.

But Eliot remained calm. He needed to give it a chance. “Listen, I need your help–”

The wolf snapped forward, bearing its teeth, but Eliot held firm. He bit back his own growl of frustration. I don’t have time for this! “We need to work together–”

It charged forward. Its teeth flashed in the dark, ready to sink into Eliot’s flesh–

And Eliot decided he had enough.

His hand snapped forward, latching tight on the wolf’s throat, and he slammed it to the ground. The wolf yelped in surprise. 

“Listen here, you stubborn motherfucker!” Eliot roared. “I! Do not! Have time! FOR YOUR BULLSHIT!”

The wolf snarled, but Eliot kept a firm, tight grip. Not hard enough to harm it, but tight enough to make sure he had the thing’s attention.

“There’s a kid out there! And he’s alone and scared and he could die if we don’t help him!” Eliot said furiously. “And we’re the best chance he has of getting home safe!”

The wolf stopped snarling, and very carefully, very slowly, Eliot released his grip. The wolf jumped back to its feet where it stood before Eliot, glowering darkly. But it was silent.

Eliot took a breath, and he tapped into the world outside–just a little bit. Just enough so they could hear a mother’s desperate cries for her son. Just enough so they could hear her fear, her worry, her panic. Just enough so that her voice cut the both of them deep, filling them both with that same worry and dread.

The wolf raised its head and turned towards the sound, ears up and alert. A whine warbled in its throat.

Eliot spoke again, softer this time. “If you really are a part of me, you don’t want anything to happen to that kid. Because I know I’d do anything to get that kid back to his mom.”

The wolf didn’t look at Eliot, but Eliot could hear it whine again. He could feel the wolf’s own fear for the kid.

“But I can’t find him on my own,” he said. And very slowly, he extended his hand to the wolf. The wolf turned back to look at him and down to the extended hand. It took a cautious step forward. “I need your help to find him.”

The wolf hesitated, and Eliot went on.

“I know we didn’t want to be stuck with each other, but for better or worse, we are. And we have to deal with that. You didn’t choose to be here anymore than me. And . . . it was wrong of me to be so angry with you. You didn’t deserve that. You haven’t wronged me yet. You haven’t . . . done anything. You could have hurt Parker that first time I turned . . . but you didn’t. And . . . I should thank you. I mean that– thank you, for not hurting her. Thank you for not hurting my friend.”

The wolf bowed its head, and took one more step forward. 

“But I need your help now. That kid needs you. My team–my friends need you. And not just now, but from now on, going forward. I need you. Will you help me?”

The wolf locked eyes with Eliot, and Eliot could see something both intelligent and primal within it. It heard his words, it understood his words, but more importantly, it understood the sincerity of what Eliot said. 

It stepped forward, and pressed its head into Eliot’s hand. A warmth blossomed in Eliot’s chest as he felt himself connect with the wolf. He reached out and . . . embraced it.

The warmth suddenly escalated to an uncomfortable surging pressure, and Eliot gasped, eyes snapping open as he lurched forwards, hand braced on the ground. He felt that pressure extended to every part of his body, his limbs and head squeezed by a strange, uncomfortable, unseen force that bore down all around him. He felt himself begin to change.

It wasn’t like turning into a werewolf where everything was blindingly painful–this was very different. For one, it wasn’t complete agony. Uncomfortable, yes, but far from the sensation of every bone in his body getting broken all at once. He saw fur grow all up and down his arms, he saw his hands grow claws, he saw those hands reshape into paws– proper wolf paws.

His breath hitched in his throat. He was doing it! He was really doing it! He was changing into a wolf!

Breathe. Just breathe. Just let it flow.

He closed his eyes and succumbed to the changes. It was like a tidal wave pressing down on him, everything happening all at once in a strange surreal fluid motion. He felt his entire body reshape–compressing and stretching and transforming in mere seconds. And when everything stopped, Eliot opened his eyes. He looked over himself and saw that he had done it! He had transformed into a wolf!

It was a strange thing to get used to, being in this new form, but it felt right. Moving came naturally as he spun around, taking all of himself in. And he turned around to see Hardison–who was staring, slack-jaw and pale down at Eliot.

Eliot froze. “Did you watch?!” he demanded furiously. Or, at least, that's what he tried to say, but all that came out was a series of barks and growls. Eliot snapped his jaws closed. Dammit, he couldn’t talk like this. Which made sense, but that just complicated everything.

Hardison was reeling. “Is–is that–did you figure out how to do that just now?!”

Eliot couldn’t help but grin, and gave a decisive nod.

Poor Hardison looked like he was on the verge of fainting. “Ok! Well! That’s–that’s awesome, man, so you just turned into a wolf –”

Eliot would have celebrated the occasion more, but they had an urgent situation to take care of. Eliot nosed his clothes over to Hardison, barking at him. Not being able to talk meant he had to hope Hardison was somewhat decent at charades. 

Hardison understood the gesture well enough and hastily scooped up the clothes and stuffed them in his bag. “Ok, great, you’re a wolf now, but now what–”

Eliot reared back onto his hind legs, putting his forepaws on Hardison’s shoulders–he was nearly big enough to look Hardison in the eye–which prompted a very unflattering scream from Hardison.

“Hey man, what the hell–?!” he said, trying to back away, but a quick growl from Eliot got him to freeze.

Eliot, as delicately as he could, snatched Hardison’s scarf from around his neck with his teeth and pulled it off (damn not having thumbs). He shook his head, trying to get it to wrap around his own neck, then took off, running right back towards the woman and her friends.

Hardison blinked, still trying to get his bearings. “Why’d you have to take my scarf? Now it’s gonna be covered in wolf drool!” he called out, giving chase. But he was starting to get what Eliot was going for; Eliot was a wolf and very much looked like a wolf, so having a big scary dog run right up to someone would naturally cause some panic. He had to seem like a pet dog, hence the scarf as an improvised collar. And they just had to hope and pray no one here was a vet or biologist who knew the difference between a wolf and a weird mutt.

Hardison jogged up to Eliot, securing the scarf around his neck, and they both ran towards the group, Eliot barking loudly to get their attention. The parents started, seeing Eliot approach with Hardison giving a quick wave of greeting.

“Hey, uh, is everything alright? I heard shouting,” Hardison said. Eliot stood at his side, though Hardison could see his eyes fixate on that kid’s jacket the mother was clutching so tightly. 

Now that Hardison was here, he saw four of them and quickly deduced they were two sets of adults; the mother and father of the missing kid, judging from their expressions alone, and two other men. The mother and father looked like typical suburban parents, wearing clothing suitable for casual hiking but bereft of any signs of experienced trailblazing. The two other men, however, definitely looked like experienced hikers, given their clothes and boots and hiking packs. And also the fact they had enough sense to not let the parents rush off into the woods without a plan.

The father fumbled, glancing down at Eliot before looking up at Hardison. “It’s my son–he ran off into the woods, we don’t know where he went–we just turned around for five seconds as we were getting lunch ready, and then next thing we know, he’s gone.”

“He’s only six years old! He’s never run off like this before, he couldn’t have gone far, we have to go after him!” the mother pleaded. “It’s going to get cold soon–and he doesn’t have his jacket!”

“Mary, we’ve told you, we can't let you wander the woods by yourself–” one of the hikers pleaded. “We called the sheriff, they’ve got a dog tracker coming, it’ll only be a little while longer–”

“We don’t have that kind of time, Liam!” the mother cried.

“If you don’t mind me saying, but my dog’s a pretty good tracker himself,” Hardison said, gesturing to Eliot. Eliot stood up straight, taking a step forward–and only then was Hardison realizing that despite looking like a dog, Eliot was acting very uncannily unlike one. “Um, he’s really good, maybe we can help?”

Eliot barked once, then stepped forward again, very nearly pacing in place. All four of the hikers looked at him, and the hiker named Liam knelt down so he was eye level with Eliot, holding out a hand to him in greeting. 

“Hey there, pretty boy,” Liam cooed. Eliot just stared at Liam, and Liam, giving a very uncertain look to Eliot, retracted his hand and backed away. “Um . . . very interesting dog you got there.”

“Yeah, he’s a stray,” Hardison winced. Ok, Eliot, when all this is over, we’re gonna need to give you dog acting lessons. “Uh, I picked him up at the shelter. He got a bad rap for being weird, but he’s as sweet as pie, don’t let his looks fool you.” 

Hardison then bent down and ruffled the fur on Eliot’s head, and it was all Eliot could do to not growl at Hardison. Hardison paused, his hand still on Eliot’s head. Oh, damn, Parker was right. That fur was indeed very soft and very fluffy.

“Who’s my sweet fluffy boy?” Hardison baby-talked Eliot. “You are! Yes you are! Look at that tail go!”

Eliot glared up at him, and with a tight smile and a glare back, Hardison cleared his throat.

“I said, look at that tail go, dammit,” he stage-whispered.

Hardison could see Eliot’s eye twitch before Eliot did the stiffest tail-wag Hardison had ever seen. The animatronics at Chuck-E-Cheese had a more fluid range of motion than him!

“What’s his name?” the second hiker offered. 

Hardison blinked. “Uh . . . Cujo,” he sputtered, blurting out the first dog name that popped into his head. Eliot snapped around to glare up at him.

The hikers blinked. “Cujo.”

Hardison blinked back. “Yeah?”

“The rabid dog from that Stephen King book?”

Hardison squirmed uncomfortably. “. . . yep.”

Eliot closed his eyes. DAMMIT, HARDISON!

“It–it started as a joke with my roommates and now he won’t respond to anything else,” Hardison faltered. “Look, point is, Cujo here is a great tracking dog and I wanna help you find your kid and we’re really familiar with these woods so you don’t need to worry about us getting lost, so how about you hand that jacket over so Cujo here can take a big whiff and we don’t have to stand around arguing all day? That sound good to all of you?”

The two experienced hikers were about to protest, but the mother–Mary– stepped forward, kneeling down in front of Eliot. She looked pleadingly at Eliot before back up to Hardison.

“You promise you can find him?” she asked.

Hardison didn’t even need to think about it. “We’ll find him. Don’t you worry.”

Mary nodded and held out the jacket to Eliot. “Please find him. He’s a good kid. I just want him back.”

Eliot was not going to fail this. He would have nodded, tried to give her some sort of reassurance, but he remembered himself and turned his attention towards the jacket. He concentrated like he’d never had before, focusing all his senses to take in every bit of scent he could. He smelled the plastic of the coat itself, along with the smell of grass and dirt. He smelled something sickeningly sweet that he identified as some candy still stuffed in the pocket. He smelled bubble gum, he smelled that clammy sort of musk all little kids seemed to have. He smelled something reminiscent of cinnamon and sweet sugary cereal. He took all of it in, committing that scent profile to his memory.

He turned to the woods around him, filtering out everything that didn’t match. He discarded the typical scents of nature, he filtered out the scents of the parents and the hikers, he filtered out Hardison’s own scent.

And there, blazing like a neon light, was the trail.

Eliot took off running, and Hardison chased off, hot on his heels.

“You stay there! We’ll be right back!” Hardison called out. He rushed forward. “Slow the hell down, Eliot, I can barely keep up with you when you have just two legs! How am I supposed to keep up when you have four?!”

Eliot wasn’t listening. His nose was to the ground, desperately chasing down the kid. It was somewhat fresh, but Eliot didn’t know how fast it would fade. He needed to go as fast as he could without losing the trail.

The kid was not moving in a straight line, though. He meandered through the woods, often doubling back on himself and going in circles. There were spots the trail was heavy with the kid’s scent, likely where he stopped for a bit, and places where the trail was paper-thin. Eliot forced himself to slow; it was too easy for him to get confused and turned around. He really needed to take his time and parse through the scent and mentally map in his head where the kid went, and where he could have gone.

Hardison stood back, watching Eliot work. He was going in circles, and Hardison was afraid they were already lost. Dog trainers spent years teaching their dogs how to track. Were they putting too much faith on Eliot just winging this?

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Hardison asked.

Eliot snapped his head up, growling and barking, not like Hardison could understand him. “I’m working on it, would you just give me a damn second?!”

Hardison threw his hands up. “Man, don’t you get snippy with me. You’re the one who was acting all weird with the parents. Seriously, you can’t just waltz up to people looking like a dog and then not act like one, unless you’re trying to creep them out.”

“I think I have better things to worry about than parents thinking I’m creepy! I’m trying to find this damn kid!”

“‘Oooh, look at me, I’m Eliot, I’m a big and scary wolf, I’m barking and growling, fear me,’” Hardison mimicked sarcastically. 

Eliot growled.

“See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

I don’t have time for this, Eliot decided, and turned his full attention back to the woods.

The kid wasn’t making this easy. The path was erratic and nonsensical, and Eliot spent far more time than he would like just trying to sort out the path in his head. It was like trying to untie a tangled knot without using his hands. He just had to follow a trail, and if it doubled back, he’d have to try another branch in the path.

And eventually, with enough time, the path became more streamline. It still weaved back and forth, sometimes circling back, but it seemed to go in one particular direction. Eliot wasn’t sure how far the kid could have gone, but they'd already been at it for over an hour, and already the light was fading and the temperature was dropping. In that time, Eliot anticipated they barely made it a mile. But how far could a six year old go?! It was all this circling and backtracking that was making him think they traveled much farther than they actually went.

But Eliot had yet to lose the scent. It was so very distinct from the rest of the forest around him that it stood out like a sore thumb, especially when Eliot knew what to look out for. And as long as he had the scent, he kept going.

Hardison followed behind, keeping his distance so he wasn’t getting in Eliot’s way. He trusted that Eliot was doing his best, and right now all he wanted was some way to help. If only he had a drone with him–!

The forest around them was starting to get thicker, with plenty of thorny bushes and tall grass and a proverbial wall of trees. The ground was riddled with divots and holes, covered with a thin layer of leaf litter so it was all too easy to trip and sprain an ankle. And now Hardison worried the kid might have fallen somewhere and gotten hurt.

He looked up at Eliot and saw his ears pinned back–he must have had the same thought because he seemed even more determined and persistent, nose right to the ground and huffing furiously. They came upon a whole grove of fallen over trees and splintered old growths, Eliot ducking under a log and Hardison having to clamber over it. And then Eliot started barking.

Hardison rolled his eyes. “Eliot, I can’t understand you–”

Eliot spun, ears pinned back and tail raised, and he was barking furiously at Hardison. Hardison threw up his hands.

“I! Don’t! Speak! Dog!” Hardison said slowly. He bent over, hands on his knees as he talked down to Eliot. “What is it? Huh? What is it, boy? Did you find Timmy stuck down a well?”

Eliot stiffened, then growled at Hardison. He snapped forward, latching onto his jacket sleeve and dragging him forward. Hardison stumbled along, pinwheeling his arm to not trip over the hazardous terrain, where Eliot led him to a massive overturned tree. The roots stuck up into the air taller than Hardison, and there Eliot turned to look down into the deep pit left by the roots below, still barking incessantly.

Hardison followed his gaze–and saw a young boy curled into a ball, shaking like a leaf, absolutely covered in dirt and mud and his arms scratched by dozens of thorns.

Hardison’s heart dropped to his feet. “Kid!” he called out. The boy didn’t respond. Hardison scanned around them. The pit was probably over five feet deep, the walls sheer and difficult to climb up–

But as he stood there and tried to figure out the best way to rescue the kid, Eliot lowered himself into the hole, coming to the boy’s side and nudging him with his nose. The boy sniffed and choked out a sob as he looked up at Eliot with wide, fearful eyes. Eliot lowered himself to his belly, crawling right up next to the kid. He was just a big friendly dog. Nothing to be afraid of.

Eliot could see the kid shivering violently, and Eliot pressed his body up against the boy. And to his relief, he felt the boy reach out and hug him tightly around his neck, burying his face in his fur and sobbing loudly.

“I want my mommy,” he whimpered.

Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here, Eliot swore. They had the kid. Now they just had to bring him home. He looked up at the edge of the pit, where Hardison was busy ripping up logs and branches and vines, trying to fashion some sort of make-shift ladder for Eliot to climb back up. Hardison dropped down a length of branches and logs, trying to find ones with enough footrests. For good measure, he tossed down a long woody vine for Eliot to grab onto.

“Hey, your name’s Johnny, right?” Hardison called out, getting the kid’s attention. The kid pulled himself away just enough so he could look up at Hardison, then slowly nodded. “Great! That’s great! Your parents sent us to look for you, and we’re going to get you out of here. I just need you to listen to me, and I’m going to get you home. Ok?”

Again, Johnny nodded.

“Great, great, you’re doing great,” Hardison encouraged. “Hey, I see you’ve met my best friend there, and he’s going to keep you safe and get you out, but you need to help him. Can you stand?”

Eliot pushed himself to his feet with the kid still hung on tight to him. But he seemed weak and tired, and he was shivering so bad he could barely stand upright. So Eliot lowered himself down and tried to get under Johnny, getting him onto his back.

Hardison saw what Eliot was trying to do and called out to the kid. “That’s my best friend El–I mean, Cujo. Try climbing on his back and he’ll climb right on out, just hold on tight, ok?”

The kid was shaking so badly that if he nodded, Hardison couldn’t tell, but he tried pulling himself onto Eliot’s back, grabbing big fistfuls of fur and pulling himself along, Eliot biting back a wince as he did so. Eliot remained still as the kid finally got situated, his arms still wrapped tightly around Eliot’s neck.

“Just hold on tight!” Hardison said.

Eliot began to climb. His claws were not meant for climbing something so unstable and so sheer, and the dirt walls crumbled out beneath him. He scrambled up as far as he could and clamped his jaws down tight around a thick, sturdy branch. Hardison grabbed the other end of the branch and he pulled with all his might, Eliot’s legs kicking and scrambling to pull himself up. With enough heaving and lots of angry cursing, Eliot clambered over the edge of the pit and pulled himself out, the kid still safely in tow on his back.

Hardison fell backwards, collapsing to the ground from the effort, but he gave a cheerful whoop of celebration and pumped his fist into the air. 

“You did it, man!” Hardison said, rushing over to Eliot. He extended his arms to go in for a hug, but hesitated, not knowing if Eliot would appreciate another pair of grubby hands all over him. He shucked off his backpack and pulled out Eliot’s jacket, draping it around the young boy. The young boy let go of Eliot just enough to hug it tight to his own body, still shivering.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “You’re out, you’re safe now, and we’re gonna get you back to your mom, ok?”

The boy just nodded, but even holding onto the coat, he was reluctant to let go of Eliot. Hardison tried to gently coax him down, but the kid shied away, seemingly sinking into Eliot’s fur even more.

Hardison winced. “Alright, little man, I don’t think my buddy here wants you riding his back all the way to your folks–”

Eliot gave a low bark, shaking his head. Hardison raised an eyebrow.

“Uh–you sure? You’re ok with him up there?” Hardison asked, and Eliot nodded. Hardison just shrugged. “Well alright then, Silver, let’s mosey back home. You do know the way back, right?”

Eliot just gave another huff, nodded, and trotted off, Hardison right behind him.

The way back was much shorter and much faster, and in no time at all, they were back at the parking lot, where Hardison could see a whole crowd of people. Finally, the sheriff had arrived and had gathered a small platoon of rescuers, equipped with flashlights and neon-orange vests and ready to begin the search. But as soon as Eliot broke the treeline, he began barking, getting everyone’s attention.

Hardison raised his hands and flagged them down and Eliot trotted forward. In the crowds he could see the mother and father, their faces lighting up with recognition. And as soon as they saw their son Johnny on Eliot’s back, they broke out into sobs and rushed forward, overcome with relief.

“Johnny!” they cried.

“Mom! Dad!” the boy said. He shrugged himself off and stumbled forward, into the waiting arms of his parents who wrapped him up into a massive hug, showering him with kisses. The parents were overcome with relief and gratitude, barely able to contain themselves as they sobbed and embraced their son.

Eliot sat back, watching the reunion. This was it. This was why they did what they did. And just seeing the parents finally reunite with their son, it made everything worth it. 

And Eliot was grateful. Truly grateful.

Thank you for helping me bring him home.

The mother finally broke away to address Hardison and Eliot, both beaming proudly. She reached out to Eliot, wrapping her arms around Eliot’s neck and hugging him fiercely. And Eliot decided he’d tolerate it. Just this once.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Cujo,” she sobbed. Still a stupid name. “You’re such a good dog, thank you.” She stood, and then hugged Hardison. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”

“No thanks needed. That’s just what we do,” he said, patting her back. “You just take care now. And, hey, Johnny, no more running off into the woods, ok? There’s chupacabras and werewolves and Jersey Devils out there.”

Little Johnny just stared up at Hardison blankly while the parents just laughed it off, ushering their son away back to their car and the gathered crowds to spread the good news. Even the sheriff approached, having observed the whole interaction himself.

“You found that kid?” he asked.

“Well, I didn’t,” Hardison clarified. He gestured to Eliot. “He did.”

The sheriff nodded in approval. “Good boy,” he said, patting Eliot’s head.

Ok, now all the petting was starting to annoy him.

The sheriff gave Hardison a business card. “Hey, we could always use Good Samaritans like yourself. If you’re willing to volunteer for more search and rescue, just let me know and we’ll put your name down. We’d be grateful for your help.”

“I will, thank you,” Hardison said, taking the card and putting it into his pocket. The sheriff tipped his hat and walked off, checking in with the parents to make sure the kid was ok.

Hardison stood back, reveling in a job well done. And so was Eliot.

“You did good today, man,” he said. 

He swore he could see Eliot smiling. And then he smirked.

“Look at that tail go,” Hardison chuckled.

Eliot stiffened, freezing right up. He tucked his tail between his legs and sat down on his haunches, growling dangerously. Hardison burst out laughing.

“Aw, come on, man! It was adorable! Maybe we could find a new source of renewable energy with how hard your floofy little tail was wagging!”

I’m going to kill you, Eliot growled to himself. He shoved himself back to his feet and stalked back to their van. Hardison chased off after him, still laughing. Damn, should have gotten that on camera. Eliot pawed at the door, still growling in the universal language of let me in.

“Hey! Hey! Don’t you scratch Lucille! Hey! Down, boy!”

Eliot growled again, but Hardison shoved right past him, rolling his eyes as he opened the side doors. Eliot hopped right in, turning around and trying to snag the backpack Hardison carried.

Hardison suddenly had a magnificent, terrible idea. But he had to play it cool.

He snatched the bag away, holding out a hand. “Wait, hold on, why do you want the bag?” He leaned in close, squinting his eyes suspiciously. “Are you gonna try to turn back?”

Eliot growled, but gave a very distinct, very slow nod so there was no miscommunication.

Perfect.

“Oh, hell no! You are not getting your stinky naked ass all over my van! You are gonna sit there and stay until we get back and then you can change in the bathroom or something! But you are not doing that in Lucille!”

Eliot’s jaw dropped open and he started barking furiously once more at Hardison, but Hardison kept the bag clutched tight to his chest as he slipped around to the driver seat. He could very nearly make out actual swear words from Eliot’s raving.

“Hey!” Hardison said. “My van, my rules. Bite me!”

I am going to kill him. I am absolutely going to kill him, Eliot swore as they peeled out of the lot and drove back to the pub.

They snuck back inside, with Hardison once again donning the hard hat and vest, and Eliot was able to be quick and discreet enough to slip by without anyone seeing him. Eliot rushed up the stairs, brushing past Hardison. The whole wolf thing had been fun, but now he wanted to get back to normal before anyone else decided to pet him.

The door was cracked open and he nudged it open further, where Sophie, Nathan, and Parker were all idling around. And with them was none other than Lee, who was already staring at the door, jaw agape. They all started and stared as Eliot entered, Sophie giving an audible gasp of shock.

“What the hell–?” Nathan muttered.

Lee was still gawking. “Eliot?!” he said. “Is that you?”

Sophie did a double-take. “Wait–you’re saying that is Eliot?!”

Hardison proudly strutted in, gesturing to Eliot in a grandiose fashion.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Eliot Spencer! Werewolf extraordinaire!”

I’m going to kill him so hard his own Nana won’t recognize him, Eliot fumed as he slowly closed his eyes. He probably should have thought this through a little better.

Sophie gaped. “Since when could he do that?!”

“Since just a couple hours ago,” Hardison grinned. “So we planted the cameras, and then we found this poor couple that lost their kid, and Eliot went all wolf-mode to track him down. It was pretty sweet, I have to say.”

Lee was now beaming, his grin splitting his face ear to ear. “This–this is incredible! You did it! And so quickly–! I can’t believe it!”

Eliot was now jumping up on Hardison, trying to grab the bag and yank it away. Hardison tried swatting him down, but Eliot was a big wolf with the strength to back it up and nearly yanked Hardison to the floor trying to get to the backpack.

Parker’s eyes were glued to Eliot, and a grin began to creep across her face. “That is so awesome!” she squealed in delight and rushed right over, throwing her arms around Eliot’s neck. Eliot’s eyes went wide and he tried to squirm away, but Parker held tight, burying her face into his fur.

“Ohhhh my god, you guys! You have to try this!” she said excitedly. “He’s just as fluffy and soft as I imagined! No! He’s even fluffier! And softer! ”

Eliot was growling incessantly, hackles raised and teeth bared, but Parker was very conveniently ignoring that as she snuggled him. Lee was desperately trying to suppress his own laughter.

“I am petting a werewolf! This is the best day ever!”

“Ok, Parker, let’s give Eliot a little bit of space,” Nathan said slowly. He was, like everyone else, staring in bewilderment at the wolf that had just waltzed right into their office. And that wolf was Eliot.

It looked like him, in a weird sort of way. The pattern of the fur and color was the same as the werewolf they saw on the full moon. It really was Eliot, Nathan knew, but it was one thing to know something was possible, and another thing entirely to see it for himself. 

Parker loosened her grip just enough for Eliot to slip out, and he snatched up the bag, furiously stormed off to the back room, and slammed the door shut behind him. There was an awkward pause as everyone waited with baited breath. The silence stretched out for a minute, then two . . . then five.

“Do you . . . do you think he needs help?” Sophie whispered unsurely to Nate. 

“Help with what?!”

“No, no , he’s fine, just give him a minute,” Lee reassured with a laugh. 

But finally, after the silence stretched to a nearly unbearable level, Eliot finally emerged, human once more and dressed, although looking as pissed as a wet cat. He stormed up to Parker, jabbing a finger in her face.

“Don’t EVER do that again,” he growled warningly.

Parker just smirked. “Worth it.” 

Lee smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up.

Nathan was still watching Eliot. Under that signature bluster and irritation, Eliot seemed to be in good spirits. He looked . . . happy.

“So you found a lost kid?” Nathan asked.

Eliot gave a sigh and nodded. “He wandered away from his parents. It was getting dark and cold. I knew we had to find him fast, and, well . . . now I have one hell of a nose. It was the best chance to find him. If it had gotten dark, they might not have ever found him in time.”

Nathan smiled quietly in approval. “Hey. Good work.”

Eliot tried to roll his eyes and shrug it off, but Nathan knew better. He saw that smile.

“Well! That’s great! I’m glad you boys had a fun afternoon,” Sophie said. “But you did plant the cameras, right?”

“Of course we planted the cameras! What, you think I went out into the woods just for fun and to get eaten alive by mosquitoes?!”

“The fresh air is good for you, you can’t sit in front of a computer all day,” Eliot chastised.

“You’re starting to sound like my Nana–”

“Well maybe you should have listened to your damn Nana!”

Nathan stared at Eliot and Hardison bickering, with Sophie straddling right up to his side.

“How is it after everything we just saw, things still feel so . . . normal?” she asked.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” Nathan muttered back. He clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Ok, Hardison, can you pull up the cameras? Any pings yet?”

Hardison took a moment to pull up the computers and bring them up on the TV screens. “Uhhh, nothing yet. Oh, look, there’s a deer–and another deer–I think that’s the same deer–”

“At least there’s our proof they’re working,” Nathan said. “We just need to keep our eye on it and wait for Don to take the bait.”

“I don’t like sitting here and waiting,” Eliot scowled.

“Well, as proud as I am of your recent progress, it’s still a really bad idea to try to take on Don and his goons head-on,” Nathan said. “I know five on one are far from your worst odds, but we still have Lee here to worry about.”

Eliot paced angrily. “We don’t even know if he’ll take the bait!”

“Oh, he’ll take it,” Nathan said. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because we bought out all the local supply of moonstone that matched the same quality and clarity of the stone that made you go crazy!” Parker said proudly. “He’ll have nowhere else to go.”

Eliot stared. “Wait–so how the hell–”

“We took the stone that Hardison gave you and compared it to the one we nicked from Don, and compared it to the ones Lee here has so generously donated to us,” Sophie explained. “The one Hardison grabbed was from a cheap hippie store selling low-quality gems for all those one-with-nature spiritual posers to decorate their houses. The stones Don procured, oh, those are of significantly higher quality.”

“Lee told us that only certain kinds of moonstone can . . . do what Don wants them to do. And we compared them to the ones Lee gave us for studying, so we know how to distinguish between the three types ourselves,” Nathan went on. “And, of course, verify with the expert resident werewolf.”

Lee laughed at that. “I don’t know if I can even be called an expert anymore.” He glanced up, still that glow of pride and genuine happiness in his eyes. “I haven’t even mastered the wolf form yet.”

Eliot tried to not let the compliments over-inflate his ego, however good it felt to know that his hard work had indeed paid off in a massive way. But it didn’t make him feel any better about their whole plan with Don. They always tried to be proactive. For this one, they were on the defensive, ready to react instead of striking first. Starting on the back foot was always a disadvantage.

“We know he’s gonna go for me next,” Lee said. “Don’s a vengeful sonofabitch. If he can’t get to Eliot, he’ll go for the next best thing: me.”

Nathan slowly walked over to Lee. “You don’t need to get involved with this–”

“I’m already involved,” Lee refuted. “And I still blame myself for dragging all of you into this. No, if there’s any way I can help you end this and take down Don for good, I’m all in.”

“Are you sure?” Eliot asked.

Lee looked him dead in the eye and nodded decisively. “I’m sure.”

“Alright, I’ve got you some of our earbuds, ultra long range,” Hardison said, handing Lee a small box filled with their signature earpiece and also a small remote-looking device with a singular button on it. “And if you can’t manage to dial up us on the phone for whatever reason, this little remote here will send an alert to all our phones. I call it the Werewolf Life Alert.”

Eliot rolled his eyes “Nice,” he said sarcastically.

“You spend all night thinking of that one?” Lee asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Never too late to back out,” Nate reminded Lee. He took a duffel bag packed full and passed it over to Lee. “Don’s gonna come at you hot. So just be ready,” he warned. 

“I’ve handled worse,” Lee said with a grin, taking the bag and hefting it over his shoulder. “I’ll be ready and give you the signal. Just be sure you don’t take too long.”

Eliot followed Lee down the stairs to see him out, but Lee paused by the door for just a moment.

“I still can’t believe you did it. I mean–it’s only been a few days, and here you are, a better wolf than I could ever be,” he said. There was no mistaking it–however proud Lee was of Eliot’s success, there was a note of jealousy, even envy, however much he tried to hide it. “I just . . . how’d you do it so easily?”

“Because I’ve already had a lifetime experience wrestling my own inner demons,” Eliot said. “This was actually one of the more reasonable ones.”

Lee laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Maybe Don was right about me, then–”

“No. No, he wasn’t,” Eliot said fiercely. “No one who’s willing to put in the time and work to be better is ever a lost cause. It's just . . . it’s just going to take time.”

It wasn’t a reassuring answer, Eliot knew. So he tried again.

“You’ve tried apologizing to it, right? And it still doesn’t seem enough? Maybe try thanking it. Show it some appreciation. I mean, who doesn’t like a little pat on the back now and then?” Eliot offered.

“Thank it? For what?” Lee asked, bewildered.

“For saving your life. For saving mine,” Eliot said. “Because let’s be honest, I would have made the same mistakes you did, had you not warned me about them first. You gave me the knowledge I needed to make the right decisions right off the bat.”

Eliot took a moment to pause. 

“There’s a little six-year-old kid out there who’s alive thanks to you,” he said poignantly. 

Lee tried hard not to scoff. “He’s alive thanks to you, not me.”

“I was only able to do what I did today because you put me on the right path.” Eliot pointed out. “Indirectly or not, that kid’s safe and sound with his parents because of you. I can’t thank you enough for that. And I know those parents are sure as hell just as thankful. So, let the wolf know. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

Lee smiled, and nodded. “I’ll try that. Thank you.”

“You take care of yourself. And don’t go down before you throw a few good punches to Don’s stupid, ugly mug, alright?”

“Roger that,” Lee saluted, and he slipped out of the bar and made his way home. 

Chapter Text

Lee drove back to his small, nondescript apartment, his cache in hand and his mind deep in thought. Eliot gave him much to think about, and as he stepped into his apartment and shut the door behind him, he took a moment to take in his surroundings–really take them in.

He was not a sentimental man by any means, so decorations and decor and personal effects were few and far between. His furnishings were modest and basic, most of it salvaged from rummage sales or discounted pieces from big box stores. Wasn’t any point in getting himself anything fancy or nice, not when there was a constant risk of him accidentally ruining it.

He threw the duffel bag on his kitchen island, leaning against the edge as he took a deep, steadying breath. Having lived with the wolf for as long as his adolescence, he had grown accustomed to the constant buzzing presence at the back of his mind. He was never alone, not really, as he was always vaguely aware of some savage, feral animal lurking out of the corner of his eye, feeling it prowl just beneath his skin, hearing its low constant growling at the edge of his periphery.

He didn’t need to slip into some deep meditative trance like Eliot to find his wolf because his wolf was always there; a constant presence that threatened to overtake him at the slightest provocation. 

Lee closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and addressed the wolf lurking within.

“You heard Eliot. I know you did,” he said to himself. The growling grew louder, more incessant. “And he’s right. I . . . I really haven’t appreciated you at all over these years, have I? And I haven’t . . . thanked you.” 

He felt the wolf growl louder, felt it prickle as its temper flared.

“I’m not being facetious,” Lee protested, frowning in frustration. “I just–I kinda suck at this, ok? Give me some slack.”

The growling didn’t lessen, but neither did it grow. It sat there, waiting. Lee went on.

“I get the sense that Eliot isn’t the type of guy to hand out praise and gratitude unless he really means it, so when he told us to thank you for helping him, then he meant it. And–and I mean it, too. Thank you. Eliot got dealt a shit hand, we both know that. But at least he has a leg up, and . . . and it’s thanks to you.”

Lee felt foolish standing here talking to himself like this, and a part of him wondered if he was really doing any good or just making things worse. But he needed to try, dammit. He couldn’t expect himself to just say a few pretty words and everything would magically resolve itself. Maybe it would just take time. 

Everything worthwhile was worth working for. So he needed to keep working for it.

“No more shortcuts. No more cheating. No more treating you like shit,” Lee swore to his wolf. “I’m going to do things right from now on. I already got rid of all the wolfsbane. You hear me? It’s gone. I’m not using it anymore.”

And to his surprise, he felt the growls of the wolf lessen. 

Encouraged by this development, Lee went on.

“And we’re going to teach that shithead Don a lesson. We’re gonna get him back for what he did to Eliot and what he did to us. But I’m going to need your help for that. So . . . can we call a truce? Just for this?”

There wasn’t much of a response, not from what Lee could tell. The lingering presence of the wolf didn’t grow louder or more aggressive, but neither did it retreat away and show submission. Lee wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he let out a sigh, leaving the matter alone for the time being.

“We’ll work on it,” Lee decided.

It would just take time. He would just need to keep working at it.

He just needed more time.

But he wouldn’t get long.

Suddenly, there came a furious banging at his front door. Lee started, turning from his spot in the kitchen. He barely made it two steps to the door before it shuddered and splintered apart, kicked in with such brutal force it came right off the hinges. Storming inside like a tidal wave was Don and his men, who descended upon him with all the savagery and bloodthirsty rage of a pack of wild animals.

Lee barely had time to get his thoughts together before he found himself thrown to the ground, arms grabbing him, an impossible weight pressing down on his chest before fists were raised and repeatedly cracked against his face. He snarled and lurched under their grip, trying to break free and escape, but they outnumbered and overpowered him.

He was completely at their mercy.

Above him, Don loomed. He paced back and forth like a caged tiger, his face pulled into such a furious snarl that Lee could practically see his mouth foaming as if he were rabid. He delivered a devastating kick to Lee’s side, causing Lee to gasp out a pained breath.

“Where is it?!” Don screamed.

“Fuck you!” Lee snarled, spitting right up at Don’s ugly face.

Another kick to his side, and Lee doubled over, gasping desperately for breath.

“Where is it?! I know you took it! You and those fucking humans!”

Lee wrenched a hand free and struck the man holding him across the face, causing him to reel back just enough for Lee to slip out as he staggered to his feet. Lee was outnumbered, he knew, but as he promised Eliot and the others, he wouldn’t go down without throwing a few punches himself.

Lee pulled back his lips, letting out a growl. “Get the fuck out of my house,” he warned.

“Not until you give us back the moonstone!” Don demanded. He lunged at Lee, the two men trading blow after blow. Don gripped Lee by the collar, delivering a flurry of blows to Lee’s chest and stomach, while Lee slashed wildly with his clawed hands and kicked out with his legs, trying to shove Don off. But with the entirety of Don’s entourage at his side, it wasn’t long before Lee was back on the ground, face pressed to the floor, one arm twisted painfully behind his back as he was pinned to the floor.

“Found it, boss!”

Lee looked up, and from what little he could see lying on the floor, he saw one of Don’s men holding up the duffel bag Lee had thrown on the kitchen island.

Lee felt his heart skip a beat.

Don came over to the man, opening up the bag to see it was full of the moonstone Parker had stolen from his warehouse. Don glared down at Lee before proudly snatching the duffel bag, briefly rifling through its contents.

“This is only half. Where’s the rest of it?” Don demanded.

“Go fuck yourself,” Lee growled.

Don kicked Lee once more in the side. Lee choked out a gasping breath, feeling his ribs sear with pain.

“Let’s try that again,” Don growled. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“I don’t know,” Lee wheezed. “They–they took the rest of it, as payment–”

Don reached down, snatching Lee’s phone from his pocket. He fussed with it for only a moment before he brought it up to his ear and made a phone call.

“Harry Pop-and-pain-in-my ass, I presume,” Don growled into the phone. “Well, congratulations, you finally did it. You’ve pissed me the fuck off. And now you’re about to find out what happens when you poke the wolf. I want my property back. All of it. Bring it to the abandoned shopping mall on the corner of Donnel and Straighton. If you’re short even a single stone, I will know, and I will gut Lee like the fucking dog he is. Be there in a half hour, or I kill him. And then I come after you, your team, and I will kill every single last one of you.”

With that, Don threw the phone to the floor, smashing it to pieces under his heel.

Miles away, in the second story of a pub and brewery, Nate gathered up his team.

“Alright, Don took the bait. Let’s go.”

****

Nate and the rest of his crew rolled up to a derelict concrete building, brutalist in design with all square shapes and crumbling concrete walls. What was once a bustling shopping center was now nothing more than a ghostly husk of architecture, rusted metal support beams visible under the decaying stone facade.

The boarded-up doors were locked tight with chains and padlocks, but that hardly slowed Parker down even a moment as she snapped the locks open with ease. 

Nathan stopped Parker before she could go inside.  “Stay out here,” he told her. “Go to the roof, see if you can cover us from above.”

Parker dutifully nodded and took off.  Nathan would not allow any more members of his team to get anywhere close to Don if he could help it. Which meant that he and Eliot were entering alone.

But they were hardly without backup. Hardison was parked in the nondescript black van a block away, monitoring their coms. The abandoned mall had no electricity, which meant no cameras for him to hack, so Nathan improvised by attaching a small button camera to his and Eliot’s shirts. That would at least give Hardison some visual for him to watch the team from a safe distance. Sophie stayed with Hardison inside the van; Nathan was firm that she stay well away from the confrontation as well.

Nathan and Eliot stepped inside, the insides just as barren and dusty and dilapidated as the exterior. The mall was expansive, all the shops long boarded up, and it was any guess where Don and his dogs were lurking in this stone crypt. Luckily, he had Eliot leading the charge, and it didn’t take him long to find where Don was hiding.

Don and two of his men stood in an expansive opening of the mall, possibly an old food court if the shuttered stalls were any indication. Don stood front and center, the two men standing just behind him with a third man gripped in their arms in between them, forcing the man to his knees.

It was Lee. His face was bruised and red, but there was a fierce gleam of stubborn defiance in the man. Nathan looked at Lee, feeling a surge of regret for Lee’s circumstances and an intense flash of anger at Don for brutalizing the reporter in such a fashion.

But Lee met his eye and gave him a subtle nod.

I’m ok. I can handle it, Lee seemed to say.

Nate and Eliot approached, glaring down Don. Don hardly moved, keeping his hands firmly clasped in front of him.

“Alright, Don, let Lee go,” Nate demanded.

Don’s lips only twitched upwards into a cruel grin. “Where’s my moonstone?”

Nate hesitated before he held up a black duffel, the weight of its contents causing the canvas to strain against the straps. Wordlessly, Nate tossed it between them, where it clacked against the dusty floor. Don motioned for one of his men, who released Lee to step forward and grab the bag. He brought it over to Don, opening it, and they both looked inside, a pleased smile creeping across Don’s face as he clawed through the precious gemstones.

“It’s all of it, as promised,” Nate said insistently. “Now let Lee go.”

Don didn’t respond immediately. He continued to rake through the duffel bag’s contents, picking out stones at random to examine them before returning them to the bag. After a few tense, agonizing moments of this, Don finally paused and turned to look at Nate.

“No,” he said.

Nate blinked. “No?”

“You’ve crossed a line, Harry,” Don said. “A lesson needs to be learned.”

“No, you crossed the line. You crossed that line when you attacked one of my own!” Nate rebuked furiously. “It’s you who needs to learn a lesson. And that lesson is; you do not get to hurt my team. You do not get to lay a single finger on them, not unless you want me to bring down every wrath known to man and God upon your head.”

Don threw back his head and laughed right in Nate’s face, believing his words were nothing more than an empty threat. “Every wrath known to man and God? Didn’t take you for a poet, Harry. But the thing is, there is no God here. And the only man I see is you. A lone man, surrounded by wolves. So tell me, little man, what are you going to do about it?”

Don didn’t give Nathan a chance to respond before he tilted his head in an upward direction.

“Where’s the rest of your team, by the way?” Don taunted. “The two pretty ladies and the tall skinny one with a smart mouth? Where are they?”

“Not here, I’m not letting them get involved in this,” Nate said flatly.

“Mmm, I don’t believe you,” Don mocked. “No, I think they’re much closer than you’d let me believe.”

Eliot paused, remembering something. Don’s gang had five members, including Don. Three were right in front of him–

Where were the other two?

Nate must have been thinking the same thing because Eliot caught that brief flicker of panic across Nate’s eyes, despite his best efforts to remain calm and composed. But they wouldn’t have long to muse on it before their question was answered in a horrifying fashion.

Eliot heard it first. It was the sound of a scuffle, of someone being dragged with furious protests closer and closer, feet scrambling across the concrete and rubble as a fierce voice urged them forward. Entering the room was the larger goon, Jacob, one hand gripping Hardison by the arm, and the other hand gripping Sophie. He shoved the two forward, nearly throwing them to the ground as he strutted right up to Don.

“Found these two lurking in a van just around the corner!” Jacob boasted with an appropriately wolfish grin. He snickered at Nathan and Eliot, taking in their shocked and outraged expressions. “What? You thought we wouldn’t find your friends snooping about? We got eyes and ears all over this joint! We smelled all of you as soon as you set foot in here!”

Don gave Jacob a satisfied nod. “And the other? The blonde?”

“Right here, boss.”

Coming in from the opposite direction was the slimy weaselly redhead Cory, and in his grasp was Parker, who he also shoved forward with hardly any consideration. Parker, however, refused to say anything or so much as shout out in protest. A stark contrast to Hardison, who had been letting out a low and constant stream of curses and demands for Jacob to “get his filthy paws off of him.”

Don turned once more to Nathan, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. “Well, what’s it gonna be? You can’t pull the wool over my eyes! I got your team. You’ve lost. Now it’s time for me to make my demands, and you all better listen up and comply, or you’re leaving here in body bags.”

Don paced back and forth in front of Eliot and Nathan, holding up a finger. “Number one. I get all the moonstone back, as well as access to the forest so I can dig up more. Number two, you and your washed-up team of hacks leave town immediately and you never show hide or tail here again. That includes Lee. And number three? Eliot comes with us.”

Eliot scoffed, enraged and insulted by the offer. “What makes you think I’ll go quietly? You think I’m gonna join your stupid pack willingly? I don’t think so. If you try to drag me into your little circus, I’m gonna make you regret every second you’re stuck with me.”

“Thought you’d say that. So how about this. You join us, willingly, quietly, peacefully . . . or I start biting more people,” Don taunted.

“Whatever happened to that whole ‘I’m not a ruthless killer’ thing?” Nate asked scathingly.

“Who says anything about killing?” Don asked innocently. “No, you don’t get it. I’m not gonna kill them. Just bite them. Hard enough to turn them. I’m going to unleash this curse against every hapless Tim, Dick, and Harry I see. As for what happens to them? Who knows. They might hurt people. They might not. They might even kill someone. But you know how much torment that change is going to be. You know the brutal agony they’re going to endure. And that blood will rest on your conscience.”

“You’re a sick psychopathic sonofabitch,” Eliot snarled, stepping forward.

“Challenge him!”

Nathan and Eliot started as everyone’s gaze shifted over to Lee. Lee glared up at Don defiantly, a snarl on his lips as he strained against the man still holding him.

“Challenge him!” Lee said again. “You want this turf, Don? You wanna lay claim to this territory? Then fight for it! Fight it out like us wolves were meant to!”

Don stared in disbelief before he threw his head back and laughed indignantly. “A challenge? Really? Digging up those old archaic laws, is that how far we’ve gotten?”

Lee just shrugged. “That is, of course, unless you’re too much of a weak pathetic coward to take it up–”

Don growled warningly. “Shut up.”

“No wonder you need all that moonstone if the thought of fighting a pup is scaring you this badly–”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

Don made a move towards Lee, but Eliot charged forward, unleashing a thunderous roar.

Everyone flinched, shocked by the bestial sound that had just escaped from Eliot. Even Nate couldn’t help but take a cautious step backwards. But Eliot stood tall and proud, his face pulled into a vicious snarl, hands flexing at his side as he gritted his teeth together. 

Don turned back to Eliot, a strange mix of shock, wariness, and maybe even the slightest hints of him actually being impressed by all of Eliot’s aggressive posturing. Don paced back and forth, locking eyes with Eliot.

“This is between me and you. Let’s settle this, once and for all,” Eliot growled.

Don narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Have it your way. But once I beat you into the ground, you’re going to beg me for mercy.”

Eliot and Don approached each other, making a careful circle around their “arena” as they stared each other down. As if sensing the impending confrontation, Don’s men pulled back, dragging Nate’s crew with them, and Nate wisely decided to follow suit and keep a wide berth.

“Since you’re new here, let me lay down the law of the land,” Don sneered. “A ‘challenge’ is a fight to the death–or to submission, if the victor is feeling particularly merciful. But that’s it. There are no further rules. You bite and claw and scratch your way to victory by any means necessary. Just wolf versus wolf, until only one is left standing. Winner takes all.”

Don paused as he flexed his hands, digging his heels into the ground. “And typically, the challenge is between a subordinate wishing to dethrone the current alpha, or two alphas of rival packs. So, which is it, Eliot? Are you your pack’s alpha? ”

“No I am not,” Eliot said calmly. “That’s not my job. My job is to protect my team–to protect my family. I take the blows for the people who can’t. I’m the one who fights for them when bullies like you think they can throw their weight around without consequence. And I’m the one standing before you right now, telling you this is our turf. And I’m kicking you and your goon of a pack out.”

Don grinned. “I’d love to see you try.”

With that, Don’s grin grew wider and wider as he ripped off his shirt, his form seamlessly shifting and growing in size in mere seconds. His muscles flexed and bulged, fur erupting all across his arms and legs as it covered his entire body, his form shifting as the sound of snapping and breaking bones crackled through the air as Don’s form became bigger and bigger. His jaws snapped forward, snarling as his growls deepened into animalistic roars, fangs piercing through salivating gums as wicked sharp claws flashed through the air. In what seemed to be in the blink of an eye, a massive beige-brown wolf stood before them. Don, now a werewolf, threw back his head and let loose a furious howl.

Don was an intimidating, imposing figure, not quite as big as Jacob, but nonetheless strong and sturdy enough to put up a hell of a fight. And now he stood in front of Eliot, lips pulled back as he growled dangerously, claws flashing in the dim light.

Waiting. Waiting for Eliot so he could sink those claws and fangs into Eliot’s hide.

Eliot wouldn’t let him wait for long.

First, he stripped off his shirt, kicking off his shoes as he glared Don down. He specifically wore tear-away pants for this occasion, knowing he would need to transform, and he ripped them off and tossed them to the side, now standing in front of everyone in nothing more than athletic shorts. But it was still a very awkward, uncomfortable shuffle as he stripped down in front of a gawking crowd.

Hardison and Sophie shared a knowing, empathetic grimace between them.

“You never see that in the movies,” Sophie remarked lowly.

Eliot ignored all the stares and focused. With all eyes on him, Eliot lowered himself to a knee, taking a moment to close his eyes and steady himself. As he did so, he looked at Nathan, who was standing off to the side, watching on worriedly.

Eliot met his eyes and gave him a reassuring nod.

He had this. He could do this.

He would do this for his team. His family.

He stilled his racing heart, slowed his rapid breathing. He closed his eyes and focused, drawing in a slow, steady breath as the world fell away from him and he was left in a silent empty abyss.

And waiting in that void was a wolf.

His wolf.

Eliot extended his hand to it.

“How would you like to help me kick the absolute shit out of Don?” Eliot asked.

The wolf grinned. It stepped forward, pressing its head against Eliot’s palm.

Eliot allowed himself to smile, feeling a strange warmth blossom in his chest.

“Yeah, let’s teach this asshole a lesson.”

And then he began to change.

The warmth spread through his entire body, building and building to a nearly unbearable level as he felt his muscles and bones sear with an intense fiery heat. He felt every part of his body begin to rapidly shift, and he winced and bit back a sharp exhale as he felt his bones begin to crack and shift.

Breathe. Just breathe. In and out. Let it flow.

He couldn’t fight it. He had to let it happen. He had to let go.

He surrendered himself to the wolf.

The changes happened quickly and all at once. It was much like his transformation into a wolf back at the forest, everything shifting and changing simultaneously, but the sensation was far more intense, thinning that line between discomforting and painful. It was hard, it was so hard to let go and let it happen, especially when he could feel every bone in his body crack and shift, bend and break and realign into its new lupine form. His nails exploded outwards into long sharp claws, his jaws snapped forward as his teeth lengthened and sharpened into fangs, fur grew in thick and wild, covering every part of his body.

He felt his spine lengthen into a tail and he gave it a subconscious shake, suppressing a shudder. Still needed to get used to that.

But then everything stopped. Everything stilled as the changes slowed, then halted altogether as the transformation completed.

Eliot was now a werewolf, standing tall and proud before everyone. He shook himself out, his lips pulled back to reveal glistening fangs as he let out a low growl, and his claws flashed in the dim light.

He felt stronger. The world around him felt sharper in an impossible to describe way, his senses expounded upon tenfold as his keen nose and ears picked up everything around him. He smelled the dust of the mall, the rust and mold of the dilapidated place, he heard the ragged breathing of his team and the snarls emanating from Don.

And within his own mind, though he found his thoughts sharp and clear, he felt the unmistakable presence of the Wolf. It stood beside him, growling warningly and dangerously at the opposing werewolf standing before them. Eliot could sense a tentative tug-and-pull as they each vied for control, but it was like Lee said: it wasn’t about control.

It was about cooperation. It was about knowing when to let the Wolf take the reins, and when to let his own human instincts take over.

And right now, they stood united in their mission in taking down Don.

Eliot acquiesced to the Wolf as he felt a primal urge overtake him.

He threw back his head and howled.

Don let out a loud snarl in response, dropped to all fours, and charged forwards.

Eliot didn’t hesitate. He put on a burst of speed, sprinting as fast as his new wolf body could go, and the two figures slammed into one another.

There was a blinding flurry of wild swipes and snapping jaws as Don lashed out wildly and furiously at Eliot. His claws raked over Eliot’s thick hide, but Eliot’s own battle prowess took over and he raised his arms defensively to block the incoming attacks. Don’s blows were like a battering ram, each hit sending a teeth-rattling reverberation up his body, but Eliot could see at an immediate first glance that Don had no actual formal fighting training. Don was relying on brute strength and his explosive speed to overwhelm and overpower. Eliot knew just how to counter such reckless overwhelming force, and that was by evading and avoiding where he could, deflecting and countering when there was an opening. 

Each wild swipe of Don’s claws was knocked away, and Eliot’s own fist raised up to deliver blow after blow to Don’s side, aiming for the sides of the ribs or the stomach. Eliot’s claws made making fists nearly impossible, so he relied on a modified flat-palm technique where he struck his opponent with the first joint of his fingers instead of the knuckles. This created a much more concentrated force and a sharper impact, but it was a risky technique that could damage Eliot’s hands if he wasn’t careful.

Don’s eyes went wide in alarm as a jab caught him in the diaphragm, his breath knocked from his lungs as Eliot delivered a swift flurry of blows to Don’s chest and sternum. All the while Don continued to hack and slash madly, to no avail.

Any blows Don landed were superficial cuts across Eliot’s forearms, which he could ignore with minimal distraction. Hard to let such shallow wounds bother him when not very long ago, his arm was torn to shreds by a vicious wolf bite.

Don let out a furious, frustrated growl, ducking low and going on for a tackle.

Eliot was ready for it.

His center of mass was much higher now, given his legs were now much longer and digitigrade as opposed to the flat-footed stance of a human. Knocking him to the ground was a highly advantageous strategy, with grappling allowing him to assert much greater leverage over the other. 

But unfortunately for Don, Eliot was well-versed in multiple styles of martial arts and thus had extensive training in grappling.

Don slammed into Eliot’s midsection, his arms wrapping around Eliot’s torso as he attempted to drive him into the ground. Eliot immediately dropped nearly to his knees, dropping his center of mass and making him that much harder to topple over. He could feel Don’s claws tear at his back as he tried to grip him tighter, but his thick fur and tough hide blunted Don’s claws enough that Eliot pushed through the pain and focused on countering Don’s grapple. Eliot snaked an arm under Don’s, getting under him and throwing him to the ground, diving on top of him and trying to go in for a chokehold.

But Don wouldn’t go down quietly, and not without a few filthy tricks of his own. As if to prove the “no rules” rule of the fight, Don delivered a devastating kick to Eliot’s groin and slammed a claw directly at Eliot’s eye, the pain sharp and blinding enough for Eliot to yelp in rage and pain as his grip went slack enough for Don to scamper out. Eliot shook himself out, and glared at Don with murderous intent.

In Eliot’s head, the Wolf was furious and demanded recompense for such an underhanded blow.

But Eliot urged patience. The fact that Don resorted to such a low blow only proved he was getting more and more frustrated and desperate. It was only a matter of time before Don made a critical mistake.

As if to prove his point, Eliot stood into a defensive pose with his hands held protectively in front of his face.

And then he waved to Don. Taunting him.

Come on. Bring it.

Don’s eyes widened in disbelief, but he quickly shook himself out of it, eyes narrowing and ears pinned back as he once again charged right at Eliot. Eliot met Don head-on, though Don’s head snapped forward and he sunk his teeth deep into Eliot’s shoulder with bone-crushing force. Eliot growled loudly, wincing in pain, but he took the opportunity to punch Don as hard as he could in the throat, getting Don to immediately release and stagger backwards, coughing violently. 

Eliot kept up the pressure. He surged forward, striking Don again and again and again, his blows unrelenting as Don reeled, staggering on the backfoot as he desperately struggled to maintain his ground.

And in a brief moment of clarity, Eliot could see a spark of fear in Don’s eyes.

Eliot grinned. Not so used to fighting someone who knows how to fight back, are you?

But Don was stubborn; his own ego refused to let him go down that easily, and he once more went for a wild swing, going for Eliot’s eyes once again. Eliot raised an arm to block the hit, but Don stabbed forward with his claws and speared Eliot in the side, just like Jacob had done before. But Eliot saw the blow coming and managed to deflect the blow just enough that the claws didn’t cut too deep, but it was still deep enough to get Eliot to stagger and moan out in pain as blood soaked the fur of his side.

Eliot stumbled on his feet, pressing a hand to the wound as he growled in pain. Don used the opportunity to retreat a ways away, rushing over to the sidelines–

Over to the duffel bags full of moonstone.

Don reached into one of the bags, grasping a clawful of the gemstones, and held them triumphantly in his hand. A maddening grin split across his muzzle, and Eliot saw the gems flash a strange silvery light before the gems inexplicably turned a dull shade of grey, losing their luminescent luster. 

But that managed to do . . . something, because Don somehow looked stronger. More sure. More confident.

The Wolf in Eliot’s head raised its hackles warily, and Eliot too remembered Lee’s warning, and he remembered that strange giddy-like high when he clutched a single gem in his own hand.

Moonstone channels the light of the moon to enhance your strength as a werewolf.

Eliot growled in realization. Don was using the moonstone to give himself a power boost! And he had just grabbed a whole fistful of them.

The rest of his team seemed to realize the same thing.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Parker cried out furiously.

Jacob laughed cruelly. “No such thing as cheating in a challenge, sweetheart,” he taunted. “You win by any means necessary.”

Don unleashed a spine-chilling howl before he once more charged at Eliot, putting on a burst of speed faster than anything Eliot had ever seen before.

Eliot’s eyes went wide, thrown off by the sudden speed and intensity of Don’s attacks. Don mauled him like a savage animal, his blows coming so fast and so hard it was all Eliot could do to block and deflect. But even for all of Eliot’s skill and experience, Don still managed to land several blows, his claws cutting deep into Eliot’s arms and sides, a clawed hand raking across Eliot’s face as his vision went red with blood. Eliot growled, gritting his teeth tight as he focused on defending and outlasting Don’s savagery.

The Wolf howled in his head. Fight back! Strike him back! 

But Eliot once again urged patience. Don couldn’t keep this up forever. Once he exhausted himself, Eliot could counter-attack. He just needed to outlast Don. 

But the question was–could he manage such a feat?

Don kept coming, and kept coming, and kept coming, his blows never lessening, only growing with more and more intensity as he sensed Eliot curl in on himself defensively. He had Eliot pinned in a corner, his strikes coming so fast Eliot had no opportunity to counter-attack, giving him no choice but to defend and deflect.

It was a battle of stamina and attrition. Which one could hold out the longest? Which one would give in first?

Eliot gritted his teeth, snarling as he felt the claws rake against his flesh, cutting across his arms and torso, his own blood splattering against the ground.

He could take it. He could take as much pain and punishment as he needed. He could handle it. And now, with the Wolf’s strength, he could take more punishment than ever.

He will endure.

Don let out a howl of rage as once more his claws ripped across Eliot’s arms. Go DOWN, you stubborn son of a bitch!!!

Eliot caught Don’s wrist. He snarled.

Never.

And then Eliot slashed Don as hard as he could across the face, his own claws ripping open Don’s ear. 

Don was thrown to the ground, sprawling clumsily against the concrete as he scrambled once more to his feet, panting heavily. And there, right in front of him, stood Eliot, defiant as ever, blood soaking his fur from the innumerable cuts across his limbs, but Eliot once more raised his hands in front of his face as he took up a defensive posture.

He waved once more to Don.

Come on. COME ON!!!

Don was openly gaping at Eliot, incense that this pup was managing to stay standing even after all that! With another enraged howl, he raced back to the duffel bag of moonstone, both hands grasping at the gemstones and drinking in their power. Once again emboldened and empowered by the moon’s light, he attacked again.

Eliot kept grinning.

Just like before, Don’s savagery and speed was nearly overwhelming, every blow was like a shockwave, every strike of his claws rending flesh. But Eliot pushed through the pain and punishment, holding fast against the assault, and his patience was rewarded.

After what could only have been a few moments, though agonizing for Eliot to endure, Don’s attacks slowed and the larger werewolf stepped back, shaking his head as a sudden surge of exhaustion and dizziness took hold.

Eliot’s eyes flashed with primal fury.

NOW!

This time, Eliot let loose the reins and allowed the Wolf to take over for its much needed revenge. The Wolf tackled Don, knocking him to the ground and his powerful jaws immediately snapping around Don’s throat, crushing down on him with all his strength. Don tried to shove him off, but the Wolf gripped Don’s wrists, pinning him to the floor. 

With one last desperate burst of strength, Don’s powerful legs kicked the Wolf off of him, sending him sprawling across the room, but he quickly jumped right back to his feet, turning and going straight back for Don. But in that time, Don reached once more for the moonstone, managing to grab a fistful before the Wolf grabbed Don by the leg and yanked him away.

Don retaliated by surging to his feet, swiping wildly through the air and managing to catch the Wolf across the face. The Wolf snarled and slashed back, striking Don across the face before another slash cut across Don’s torso, and the two were once more locked in a furious brawl as they traded blow for blow. The moonstone seemed to give Don one more burst of strength, but even faster than last time, exhaustion and fatigue hit him hard and he stumbled backwards, almost as if drunk.

And once more, Don crawled back to that bag, desperately scrambling for the moonstone. He reached inside the bag, grabbing one last desperate handful–

But the Wolf was having no more of that. A clawed hand snatched Don by the tail, and he dragged him away, much to the furious whines and protests of the rival werewolf. The Wolf threw Don to the center of the arena, glaring down at him as it relished the fact it had its prey exactly where it wanted.

Eliot would not interfere.

A lesson needed to be learned.

The Wolf descended upon Don, howling and snarling ferociously, pummeling Don into the ground with a relentless barrage of blows. Claws flashed in the light as they cut deep, fangs sunk through fur and flesh as they bit down hard, the horrific sounds of savage howls and roars filling the air.

And then, finally–

Eliot reached out, pulling back the Wolf.

That’s enough. It’s done.

The Wolf relented, stepping back to see the battered and exhausted and beaten form of Don curled up on the ground. Eliot stood there, gasping and panting, reeling from the exertion of the fight, but he stood above Don.

The Wolf threw back his head and unleashed another howl, proclaiming himself victorious.

Eliot cringed.

Is all that howling really necessary?

The rest of Don’s pack was openly gaping, watching on in complete disbelief. They came forward to Don’s side and helped Don back to his feet, his form sagging between them. Eliot watched as Don shrank back to his human form, his body covered in countless bites and cuts and overcome with exhaustion. He could barely manage the strength to raise his head to look at Eliot, but when he did, he looked at Eliot with unbridled hatred and rage.

And fear.

Cody pointed accusingly at them, shouting in indignant rage.

“You–you cheated!” he yelled.

Nate cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you said there was no such thing as cheating.”

“No . . . no you did something,” Don accused, his voice slurred and weak. “The fight–the fight is forfeit! You did something to me!”

“No, not to you,” Nate explained calmly as Eliot came back to his side, though he chose to remain in his werewolf form for the time being. “We did do something to the moonstone, though.”

Don blinked, his addled mind slow to catch up, so Nate strode forward, all too eager to explain his master plan as he relished his victory over his opponent. 

“We knew you weren’t above taking cheap shots and doing whatever you could to get the upper hand. So all we did was simply ensure the odds were evened out. So when you inevitably took the easy way out, well, you’d be punished for it.”

****

Back in Nate’s apartment, just hours before the impending confrontation, Lee entered the kitchen with a mason jar full of dried plants. He carefully opened the jar and took out the wolfsbane one by one, placing the plant on the counter, and from there, Hardison placed the plant in a food processor, grinding the plant into a fine powder.

Once the plant was reduced to dust, Hardison carefully poured the wolfsbane dust into two small vials, giving one to Parker and keeping one for himself.

****

“A werewolf has three weaknesses. Silver is the obvious choice, as its effects are immediate and potent. Wolfsbane is a close second, but the catch with it is that it needs to be ingested for its effect to be fast-acting. But it’s still an effective counter if inhaled. Though its effects are a bit slower to set in.”

****

During the fray, with all eyes on Eliot and Don as they clashed in a furious bout, Hardison strained against the hand that gripped him. Using a bit of cunning acting, and with a bit of assistance from Sophie, he stumbled, causing Jacob to loosen his grip just enough for him to slip out the hidden wolfsbane vial and dust the moonstone gems with the fine powder, coating the gems.

And when Don reached into that bag to grab the gemstones, the powder coated his hand, the wolfsbane poison setting in and beginning to take effect.

****

“Now the only trick was to make you take the bait. And that was hardly a challenge, seeing how easily you get riled up. Don’t want anyone challenging you, do you? You can’t stand anyone undermining your authority.  Can’t resist the opportunity to throw around your weight, either.”

****

“So a challenge, what’s that?” Nathan asked.

Lee sighed, reluctantly looking between all of them. “It’s this old archaic werewolf law. I don’t think anyone really uses it anymore–but it's basically a fight to the death or submission between two werewolves who want to, you know, challenge the other. Don mentioned it once or twice–he used to threaten me with it. Said if I kept undermining his authority, he’d take that as a ‘challenge’ and beat me into the ground.”

“So what are the rules?” Eliot asked.

“That’s the thing; there are no rules,” Lee said. “Don made it clear that in a challenge, you can use any advantage you can to get the upper hand and win.”

“Like moonstone?” Sophie offered.

Lee nodded. “Exactly. If you goad him into a challenge, I guarantee you he’ll go straight for it and use it.”

“Excellent. So we use that to our advantage,” Nate said.

Lee looked back to Nate. “Isn’t that . . . you know, cheating?”

“We’re thieves,” Eliot said, sharing a knowing look with Parker, who smiled back at Eliot. “We’re not above cheating.”

“Think of it less as cheating and more like . . . evening the playing field,” Nathan said, letting a grin creep across his face as his plan fell into place.

****

“Mind you, inhaled wolfsbane is still potent enough to take the fight right out of a werewolf after a few minutes,” Nate went on nonchalantly.

“You–you poisoned me,” Don stuttered. He paused, then laughed, a mad grin crossing his face. “You–you violated the terms of the challenge! That–that means a forfeit! You lose!”

“And what exactly were the terms of the challenge, again?” Nate retorted. “You were the one who laid it out plainly to all of us: win by any means necessary. You didn’t have to use the moonstone. But you did. You sought to gain the upper hand by extorting a source beyond your own strength to win the fight. Why is that, I wonder? Were you really so doubtful of your own skills in a fight that you decided you needed a bit of extra strength?”

“If you didn’t poison me, you would have never won!”

“If you never used the moonstone . . . well, I guess we’ll never know for sure how this fight would have gone, will we? Maybe you could have beaten Eliot with your own innate strength. Maybe you wouldn’t. But the mere fact that you had to rely on the moonstone is indication enough that you lack the skill and strength and experience to be a true alpha.”

“And what the fuck do you know about any of that?!” Don roared, finding a sudden spurt of strength to rise to his feet. “What the fuck does a puny, pathetic human like you know about being an alpha?!”  

Don shoved his pack away and surge towards Nathan-

But Eliot threw himself in front of Nathan, letting out a threatening roar as he brandished his fangs and claws. Don froze.

“An alpha is the leader of his pack,” Nate stated defiantly. “The alpha’s job is not to punish or reprimand or beat his pack into submission. A true alpha protects his pack. He protects it from anyone and anything that threatens it. He doesn’t rely on violence, or cruelty, or punishment. He fosters and leverages the different strengths of his pack members and the pack is stronger together because of that. He brings out their best qualities, guiding and teaching them. Everyone in a pack has their job. An alpha’s job is to be the leader of his pack. The leader of his family.”

By now, Hardison, Parker, and Sophie all came to Nathan’s side, standing in a defiant line, and in front of them all, was Eliot.

Don stared at them all, his gaze flickering between them. He huffed in disbelief, pointing to Eliot.

“So . . . you’re going to throw your lot with them? These humans?” he spat. “You’re gonna let your pack be a bunch of weak, pathetic humans?!”

Eliot glared down at Don, but gave an unmistakable nod of his head.

“And you dare disgrace werewolves everywhere by having a human as an alpha?!” Don continued in outrage. He then laughed. “This circus you have here? This fucking pathetic farce of a pack? It won’t last long, not before some other wolf rolls in and guts them all–”

Eliot let out a furious growl, and Don fell silent.

“And Eliot’s job? He protects us, and he puts goons like you in their place,” Nathan went on. “So I suggest you pick yourselves out of here and crawl back home. And now, it’s time for us to make our demands. You will leave Lee alone. You will never set foot in the forest again or get anywhere close to the moonstone. And you will never show your face anywhere near this town again.”

Don choked out one final act of defiance. “You–you don’t get to come in here and make demands of me–!” 

“Oh, we do have one final bit of incentive for you in case you get any bright ideas,” Nate said, scratching his cheek. 

As if on cue, Hardison pulled out a tablet from his jacket and powered it on. He pressed a few buttons, and he began to play a video for everyone to see.

The video was of Lee’s apartment, taken from the surveillance cameras that Parker had placed when she first broke in for her initial surveillance. And the cameras captured in perfect detail Don and the rest of his men breaking down the door, barging inside, and viciously beating Lee.

Don’s face went very pale.

“Yeah, uh, we got you on video of you breaking and entering and assaulting Lee. I’d say that gets you . . . what, five to ten years?”

Don scoffed. “And you think it’s a good idea to throw a werewolf in jail–?!”

“Oh, accommodations can be made. Because if you remember, moonstone has two uses. One, it strengthens a wolf–”

Don’s eyes went wide in horror. “No-”

“-and it can suppress a transformation.”

****

Nate looked at the two identical black duffel bags, both full of moonstone. From all outward appearances, there was no difference between them, but to a werewolf, there was a very crucial difference in the cargo.

“Okay, so both duffel bags have the moonstone that strengthens you–” Lee said, patting the bag on the right. “-but this one has the stones that weaken you hidden under a secret pocket right underneath.”

Eliot looked at the second bag, full of the moonstone that Lee had collected over the years, the moonstone the reporter had been using to suppress his own wolf.

“You sure you’re ok giving all this up?” Eliot asked.

“I’m sure,” Lee nodded. “No more shortcuts.”

“Ok, we have to be very careful on the switch,” Nate told his team. “We show Don the moonstone, and we make sure he sees the right rocks. We even let him take a few handfuls of it. But during the fight, at the end when the wolfsbane starts to work its magic, we open the secret flap and have Don grab the weakening moonstone.”

And during the fight, that was exactly what happened. Don saw the moonstone he expected to see, soaking in their power and enhancing his strength, and while everyone was distracted, Parker faked tripping over herself and managed to get an arm away from Cody just long enough for her to open and reveal the secret flap.

The next time Don went for the moonstone, it was the moonstone that would weaken him. Of course, in the heat of battle, Don wouldn’t have known what he had done until it was far too late.

****

Nate gave Don a mockingly thoughtful look. “How many rocks did you grab in your last attempt? Quite a few, I would guess. So I would also guess that means you won’t be changing for a long time now.”

Don was shaking in disbelief and rage. “You– you–!”

He could feel it. He could feel his wolf was suppressed, and though he struggled and strained for his body to change forms, it refused.

He was stuck as a human for who knows how long.

But even in his human form, he was still far stronger than any typical man, especially someone like Nate. He raced towards Nathan.

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

Eliot burst forwards to meet him, snatching Don by the neck and lifting him clean off his feet. Eliot growled right in Don’s face, pulling him close as his lips pulled back to reveal those razor-sharp fangs. Drool dripped from Eliot’s muzzle as he snarled viciously at Don, his grip around his throat growing tighter and tighter, as if to choke the very life from him–

“Eliot!” Nathan called out. The werewolf paused. “That’s enough. Let him down.” 

Eliot hesitated, but finally relented, dropping Don to the ground. Don crumpled into a heap before his own men rushed to his side, dragging him away.

Eliot gave them all one final warning growl before they wisely backed away, knowing they were beaten. Knowing they had lost.

Nathan stared down Don and his thugs. “You should go now.”

Don staggered to his feet, wanting to give one final retort, one final sting–

But the fight had left him completely. And all there was left for him to do was retreat, with his tail between his legs.

Nathan and his crew watched them go, and watched long enough for them to disappear from sight. When they finally were out of line of sight, Eliot let out a sigh and with an unsettling crack of bones and shifting muscles, his form returned to his human shape. He was still breathing heavily, as the battle with Don had taken him nearly every ounce of strength and endurance he had.

Lee came up to them, staring on with no small amount of awe. “You–you did it. You actually did it. You beat Don at his own game.”

“Yes, that’s what we do best,” Nathan grinned. “Putting overconfident goons in their place.”

Lee looked at Eliot. “And you–you took all that beating?”

Eliot shrugged, wiping off a bit of blood and spit from his face. “Would you believe me if I told you this wasn’t the worst I got?”

Lee laughed in disbelief. “Absolutely not.”

Hardison threw Eliot a jacket, which he snatched out of the air and shrugged on, though he winced as the fabric brushed against the countless cuts and bites across his arms and chest. 

“You–you got a lil’ somethin’-somethin’ on your face, there,” Hardison said, gesturing to Eliot’s entire mug that was now covered in blood.

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

They all began to walk out of the mall, all side-by-side and shoulder to shoulder, reveling in a job well done. Before they left, Parker made sure to grab the two duffel bags of moonstone. No way was she leaving all those pretty gemstones behind.

“Hey, was that too much?” Eliot asked Nate. “When I grabbed Don by the throat and snarled in his face–I didn’t overdo it, did I?”

“Oh, no, not at all, I thought it was great,” Nate assured. “Though the drool was a bit much, I’ll admit that.”

Eliot dragged a forearm across his mouth. “Ugh, dammit, I didn’t even mean to do that–hard not to slobber everywhere with a wolf muzzle.”

“We’ll work on that.”  

Nathan paused, looking at Eliot. It didn’t escape his notice just what Eliot managed to achieve today.

He transformed into a full werewolf outside of the full moon. And beyond that, he was able to maintain control over himself.

Eliot had mastered his inner wolf.

“Good work,” was all he said.

Eliot would never outwardly show it, but Nathan knew him well by now. He was beaming with pride, even as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Steak dinner on me?” Hardison offered.

“You’re on. As soon as I take a shower,” Eliot grimaced. “And get some pants.”

Chapter Text

After the dust had settled, Eliot and his team returned to the restaurant to clean up and lick their wounds–proverbially speaking, of course. Though Eliot’s injuries were numerous, his accelerated lycanthropic healing meant most were healed within a day or two, leaving not so much as a single scar. 

The bite scars on the arm remained, however, still as fresh and raw as the day he got them. Lee informed him that the scars of a bite would never fully heal. It was a permanent mark signifying his irreversible transformation.

But Eliot was well past the point of making peace with that and what it all meant. Even though he never asked for this, even though this affliction was forced upon him against his own will, that didn’t mean he had to keep wallowing in misery, agonizing over the unfairness of it all. In fact, he was strangely excited to find out what sort of new limits he could push himself to. He was eager to find out just what he was now capable of, now he had been given a werewolf’s strength. It would be a marvel to see the sort of things he could now endure, and what new feats of strength and endurance he could achieve.

Though Eliot never asked for this “gift,” he wouldn’t be afraid to utilize it to the best of his abilities.

Sufficiently cowed and intimidated into submission, Don never stepped a toe out of line again. Nathan kept a very careful eye on him to make sure that remained to be the case. In fact, it seemed the encounter rattled Don enough that he sold his company and skipped town to find somewhere else to settle down. But that didn’t mean Don escaped Nathan’s ever watchful eye or endless wrath.

Thankfully for them, Don wasn’t so stupid as to put Nathan’s threats to the test.

With everything settled, things went back to . . . well, not normal. Nothing would ever be normal again. Not with the knowledge of the existence of werewolves and who knows what else. But things eased back into a familiar routine, and Lee made sure to express his gratitude to Nate and his team.

Valorie, the one who started this all, met Nate at the restaurant with Lee in tow, and together they informed her that the trouble that had been following Lee was now soundly resolved.

“So those men I saw? The ones that harassed you? They won’t be causing you any more trouble?” Valorie asked.

“Or anyone else, for that matter,” Nathan assured. “We’ve made sure of it.”

Valorie let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was really worried, you know. So . . . what was all that about, anyway?”

Lee gave a non-committal shrug. “Ghosts haunting me from my past. But I’ve laid those ghosts to rest, now. And . . . I want to thank you, Valorie.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“For getting me help.” Lee’s voice was soft and earnest, kind and grateful. “I . . . I was too stuck up in my own stubbornness to think I would ever need it, even though I desperately did. You got me the help I was too proud to ask for. So . . . thank you.”

Valorie blushed. “Well . . . you’re very welcome. I’m glad it all worked out. I was just trying to do the right thing.”

Nate nodded in approval. “Keep doing that. The world needs more people like you.”

Valorie once again flushed, and she dipped her head gratefully and exited the restaurant, leaving Lee to chat and reminisce with Nate and the rest of his team. They talked well into the late hours of the evening, well past when the restaurant had its last customer and closed up for the night as they shared stories and experiences and laughs alike. They enjoyed a nice quiet night to unwind and relax, sharing some food and drinks as they planned on where they would all go from here.

“Alright, be straight with me,” Hardison said with deathly seriousness. “What else exists?”

Lee raised an eyebrow, half out of amusement, and half out of curiosity. “What do you mean, what else?”

“I mean–werewolves can’t be the only monsters that exist, right? So what else is out there we should know about? Vampires? Ghosts? Ghouls?” He paused, looking Lee directly in the eye. “Chupacabras?”

Lee laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Oh, I don’t know about chupacabras. But I have it on good authority that vampires are very much real.”

Nathan blinked. “Vampires,” he repeated flatly.

“Yup.” Lee reached for his drink and took a sip, narrowing his eyes as he winced. “I suggest avoiding them. Werewolves and vampires don’t really get along. That trope exists in movies and stories for a reason.”

Sophie elbowed Nathan’s arm. “Maybe you should have stayed in missionary school. Would save us all from any potential vampire attacks. Not that I think I wouldn’t make a devastatingly beautiful and tragic lady of the night.”

“Or just make sure we keep a healthy stock of garlic,” Hardison snarked.

“Don’t insult me. I always keep a healthy stock of garlic,” Eliot scowled.

“So, what’s next for you?” Nathan asked Lee. “Back to business as usual at the paper?”

“Exactly. I’ll be happy to get back to my job without Don being a constant thorn in my side,” Lee said. But he looked up and his tone softened as a genuinely grateful look crossed his face. “Thank you, really, for helping get Don off my back. I don’t know how much longer I could have endured his relentless harassment. You guys saved my ass.”

“Don’t mention it,” Nathan said with a smile. “It’s what we do.”

“If there’s any way I can pay you guys back . . .” Lee said as he trailed off.

“There is one thing, actually,” Nathan said as he caught Eliot’s eye and they shared a knowing look. Eliot gave a subtle grin and a nod of his head. “We’d like your help with something.”

“Anything,” Lee said earnestly.

“Great! Follow us, then,” Nathan said as he stood from the table. Eliot stood as well, though the rest of the team remained at the table. Lee joined them, his curiosity sufficiently piqued.

“Where are we going?” he asked as Nathan led them out of the pub and out to their car. Under normal circumstances, Lee would be extremely wary of stepping into a stranger’s car, but Nate and Eliot were no longer strangers.

They were his friends.

Lee trusted them.

“Not far,” Nathan said. He slipped into the driver’s seat and Eliot jumped inside. Lee followed suit. But it didn’t escape Lee’s notice how much of a not-answer that response was.

“What’s with all the mystery?” Lee asked with a grin.

“What, don’t like surprises?”

“Not really, no.”

Nathan shrugged. “Oh. That’s a shame. Well, I think you’ll like this one.”

 Lee squinted suspiciously. He didn’t think Nate would do anything nefarious, not after all this, but Lee was a bit of a suspicious person by nature. He didn’t know what Nate had up his sleeve and he was immediately on guard, but nevertheless remained relaxed and calm.

Soon enough his question would be answered. They arrived back at the abandoned mall where the confrontation between Eliot and Don took place just a few short days ago. They stepped out of the car and strode inside, and Lee noticed that this particular area of the mall they entered looked in much better shape than before. The place was cleaned and dusted, the trash and rubble cleared away, there were even working lights that illuminated a small section of the mall.

“Wasn’t too hard to get electricity back up and running here. Just a matter of switching power back on to the main panel,” Nathan explained nonchalantly. “And as long as the electric bill gets paid, no one’s going to mind who exactly is paying that bill.”

“Where’d you get the money for that?” Lee asked.

“Oh, electricity’s cheap. And high-quality moonstone can fetch a pretty penny with the right buyers,” Nathan remarked. “We found an enthusiastic jeweler who is very excited to release a whole new line of moonstone jewelry.”

“Ah, so that’s what you did with it all.”

“I suspect with a bit more elbow grease, a bit more spit and shine, this place will look as good as new.”

Lee glanced at Nate. “So what do we need a mall for?”

Nathan looked at Lee with a crafty grin. “We don’t need the whole mall. Just a part of it. Somewhere safe, nondescript, out of the way, and subtle enough for people to come and go discreetly.”

They rounded the corner, and in one of the empty storefronts was a brightly lit space where maybe a dozen people were standing around, awkwardly milling about. In one corner was a snack table with refreshments and an assortment of finger food, which one person was idly picking at. But as soon as the three came into view, they all stopped, turned, and stared at the new arrivals. And Lee staggered where he stood.

Even from this distance, he knew exactly who all those people were.

Werewolves.

Everyone in that room was a werewolf.

Lee turned, confused, and looked at Nathan, silently asking for an explanation.

But now Eliot spoke up.

“A while ago, you told me you were in a unique position to give people who deserve it a second chance,” Eliot said. “And you told me about your own upbringing as a werewolf, and how hard it was growing up without anyone to guide you. You told me you never wanted anyone else to feel the pain you felt.”

Eliot gently guided Lee forward, towards the room. Nate remained where he stood, trusting Eliot to take matters from here.

“And thanks to the hard work of my friend Hardison, we found other werewolves that needed a bit of help.”

“Help?” Lee repeated, stunned. “You want me to help them?”

“No better man for the job,” Eliot nodded, clapping Lee on the shoulder. “You’ll do great, I know you will.”

Lee stuttered uneasily. “I–I don’t know. I’m glad I was able to help you, but I don’t know if I can help all these other people–”

“You’re not giving yourself nearly enough credit,” Eliot said. “If you could help me, you can help anyone. Come on, let’s go say hello.”

Eliot ushered Lee into the room, and Lee gave the other wolves a very tentative wave. Some returned the gesture, but most just eyed him like how a wounded dog would eye a stranger. 

Eliot, however, began to make his way around the room. The space was full of a nervous tension in the air, and everyone had some level of wariness or guardedness to them. But as Eliot stepped up to each of them one at a time, offering them a smile and a handshake, the tension began to slowly dissipate. 

Lee took this moment to take in the people now surrounding him. There was a wide range of ages and ethnicities, with both men and women alike. Lee saw a teenage girl who couldn’t have been older than eighteen, and Eliot stepped up to her first.

“This is Kelsey. She’s seventeen,” Eliot said. “And a fellow Portland native.”

Lee dipped his head in greeting. Kelsey shyly nodded back. Lee couldn’t help but notice the way she was dressed and the way she held herself. She was clothed in ratty baggy clothes, with ripped tattered jeans covered in stains and wearing a sweatshirt three sizes too big over a frame that was much too thin. Her hair was unkempt and unwashed. She looked (and smelled) like she hadn’t had a proper shower in a while.

Homeless, Lee’s mind immediately thought, and his heart ached for the girl.

“I’m Lee,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Um–bitten or born?”

Kelsey’s eyes darted away. “Um. Born. I think. I don’t know–I first turned when I was sixteen. And . . . parents kicked me out after that. I mean . . . guess I would, too, if my daughter turned into a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” Lee said immediately and fiercely. Kelsey’s eyes widened at that. Lee paused, and he caught Eliot’s eye. Eliot gave him an encouraging nod, and feeling emboldened, Lee went on.

“No one in this room is a monster.”

All eyes were on him. The room was deathly silent as everyone waited for what Lee had to say. 

For a moment, Lee doubted himself. Was he really the most capable person to do this? Could he really help all these people control their inner wolves when he still struggled to control his? 

But he remembered what Eliot told him. He remembered how he helped him. 

But most important of all, he knew in his own heart that if he didn’t give everything he could to help these poor lost souls, Lee wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

So he would try. For them.

So none of them would ever experience the pain he felt.

Lee cleared his throat and started again. “Um. Well, good evening, everyone. My name is Lee Thriggs . . . and I’m a werewolf.”

There was a low ripple of greetings in response.

“And I think it’s sufficient to say everyone here is one, too. Um, let’s just go around the room really quick, introduce ourselves, your name, where you’re from. If you were born a werewolf, or if you were bitten. If you don’t mind disclosing that, that is. No pressure if it makes you uncomfortable. Um, will my friend Eliot help start us off?”

Eliot nodded, more than willing to help out Lee. If this helped break the ice, Eliot would gladly share his own story.

“My name’s Eliot Spencer, and I am a werewolf. I was born in Oklahoma City before eventually finding my way here. And it was only a couple of weeks ago that a werewolf bit me and I became one as well.” He held up his arm for emphasis, showing off the grisly scars covering his arm. A few people winced at that, their eyes widening in horror or softening in sympathy. “And it was thanks to this man standing before you all that I was able to harness my inner wolf.”

Lee dipped his head at that. It still felt awkward to receive such praise. Lee wasn’t used to it. He still felt like he didn’t deserve it.

So maybe he’d earn it.

Introductions slowly rumbled through the audience. An older gentleman in his sixties from Washington was bitten twenty years ago, a middle-aged woman from the next town over was also born one.  A man who drove here all the way from Idaho with his wife revealed that both of them were attacked and bitten while out camping five years ago. 

The stories and origins of their lycanthropy were as diverse as the people in the room, but they all came here for the same reason: to seek help controlling and understanding the wolf lurking within their skin.

“I wish I can give you all an easy answer. I wish I can tell you that you only need to follow these quick easy steps and all your troubles will vanish. I wish I could tell you the process will be simple and painless. But few things in life are ever that simple, and lycanthropy is no exception,” Lee began, speaking softly and compassionately. 

“It will take hard work. It will take time. It will take discipline and patience. But everything worth having is worth working for, and worth working hard for. And let me promise all of you, if you put in the work, if you make an honest effort, you will be rewarded. But you must be patient with yourself. And far more importantly, you must be patient with your wolf.”

Eliot stepped back, feeling no small amount of pride for Lee.

It was exactly as he suspected; Lee was a natural at this. He wouldn’t let these people down.

And Eliot knew that in helping all these people, Lee would be helping himself.

Lee turned back to the gathered crowd, feeling more confident and more sure than ever.

“The next full moon is only a couple weeks away, and we have a lot of work ahead of ourselves. Let’s get started.”

****

Time was relentless.

It wouldn’t stop, no matter how violently lives and realities were upheaved. 

Despite Nathan and the rest of his team coming to grips with the new reality of the world they now found themselves in, life went on. Which meant finding a new normalcy.

Or as close to a “new normal” as their chaotic group could ever hope to find.

Lee was doing wonderfully as a werewolf counselor. He was making great progress with the few werewolves he met that one night, and word had begun to spread. Any fellow werewolves looking for guidance or help were quietly and gently guided towards Lee’s direction.

“I still have no idea how you found all those werewolves,” Eliot noted, trying not to let Hardison know how impressed he was. He didn’t want to give Hardison an even bigger ego. “They’re supposed to be hidden. How did you find them?”

“Age of the geek, baby,” Hardison grinned. “During my extensive online research of werewolves, I found an odd pattern of social media postings. Now, they were innocuous enough that they could be easily overlooked, but they were just conspicuous enough that anyone in the know would get it, yanno? A bit of sleuthing here and there, a bit of reconnaissance, and boom, I found you some fellow wolves. These were people just looking for a bit of help, and It’s not so hard to find help if you know where and how to look for it.”

“And how do you know for sure if they’re legit?” Nate asked.

“I can do my due diligence as best as I can, but the final quality check rests on Eliot and his Spider-Sense. Or . . . Werewolf-Sense, I suppose.”

Eliot rolled his eyes at that.

The restaurant was mostly empty, as there was a lull between the lunch rush and the dinner rush. A few scattered tables were occupied by patrons finishing up a late lunch, and one man at the bar had been nursing a glass of beer for the better part of an hour. Eliot was wiping down the bar and setting out glasses in preparation for the dinner crowd when two customers entering the front door caught his attention.

There were two women, young, perhaps early twenties, and both looked to be Indigenous gauging by their complexion and the way one of the women styled her hair. Her braids were very distinct for a particular tribe out in the southwest, and Eliot noticed it immediately. 

But something he noticed even more immediately was who these women were–or rather, what they were. He looked at them–and they looked right back, locking eyes, a brief flicker of terror crossing their faces as they each recognized the other for what they truly were. Eliot quickly softened his gaze, indicating they were not intruding, he had no quarrel with them, they were welcomed in this space, and he meant them no harm.

Nathan saw him staring and followed his gaze. He saw the look in his eyes and he was able to put two and two together fairly quickly.

“Fellow wolves?” he asked quietly.

Eliot gave the briefest of nods–then stopped. He squinted his eyes and shook his head instead. 

“They’re not human. But they’re not werewolves. They’re something else.”

Nathan frowned. “Something else? Like what?”

“I dunno.” He turned back to Nate. “But I think they need our help.”

The women tentatively approached, giving Eliot a very wary look. They were scared, that much Eliot could tell. He gently waved the women over to a back table where they could talk in privacy, with Nathan joining them.

The women took their seats, their hands nervously clutching each other as they tried not to make too much eye contact. They were a whole bundle of anxious energy, Nathan could just tell, and they kept stealing glances at Eliot, as if trying to see past the human exterior. 

“Can I help you two?” Nathan said gently. “But more importantly, can I get you two anything to drink? Water? Lemonade? Soda?”

The women politely declined. “No, no thank you. But . . . we came here . . . because we heard you can help people that no one else can. People like us.”

Nathan nodded in understanding. “It’s alright. You’re safe here, you can speak freely. We are here to help. Now, what sort of help are you looking for, exactly?”

One of the women couldn’t stop glancing at Eliot, but more importantly, glancing down at his arm at the scars peeking beneath a halfway-rolled up sleeve. But Eliot didn't shy away. In fact, he held it out, allowing the woman to have a closer look. She tentatively reached forward, her fingers tracing over the scars.

“Such a terrible pain inflicted upon you. To be sentenced with such a curse . . .”

“It’s only a curse if you let it be,” Eliot said calmly. “But you’re not werewolves, are you?”

“No, not lycanthropes,” the woman said softly. “We are spirit walkers.”

“Spirit walkers?” Nathan repeated. 

“Some people call us spirit animals, or totem spirits. We are of two forms, both human and animal, yet neither.”

Nathan and Eliot exchanged a glance. Spirit animals? Now more and more, Nathan wondered what sort of myths weren’t so mythical after all.

The women went on. “For generations, my family and community have lived in peace, keeping to ourselves, not causing any trouble, always keeping quiet and discreet, never trying to draw any attention to ourselves–”

“So what happened?” Nathan asked.

“A man came, he calls himself Ramhardt. Big fat rich cat from the city. He tried to make some sort of deal with our commune. He wanted to buy our land. He came with all sorts of fancy lawyers and stuff. Wrote us a nice big check, too. But we wouldn’t take it. That land is ours, and it’s important to us. It’s . . . it’s sacred.”

Nathan remained silent, nodding encouragingly.

“That’s when he dropped the news on us. He knew who we were– what we were. He said he’d expose us all to the press if we didn’t agree to the deal. He’d make sure we’d be revealed before the whole world for what we were if we didn’t do exactly what he said. He promised to make a grand spectacle of it.”

Eliot let out a low, dangerous growl at that.

“We didn’t have a choice. We signed the deal. We sold our land to that greedy, thieving bastard. But now Ramhardt controls everything we do. He controls us. None of us can leave, none of us can do anything, not without the threat of Ramhardt breathing down our neck.”

“You managed to escape and find us,” Eliot pointed out gently.

“Barely!” the woman scoffed with a pained sob. “And even now I’m terrified one of his men might have found out–and he’d punish us, or our families.”

“Well, we’re not going to let that happen,” Nathan promised. “We’re going to get you back your land, and we’re going to make sure this Ramhardt doesn’t bother you or anyone else ever again. We’re going to make sure he won’t expose anyone.”

“How are you going to do that?” the woman asked skeptically.

Before either Eliot or Nathan could respond, both women and Eliot suddenly went very still, their heads snapping towards the door as two more figures entered. One was a tall, thin man, but solidly built and muscular, wearing jeans and a spring jacket over a casual t-shirt. The second looked like a crypt keeper: he was dressed in a sharp black suit and tie and wore a trilby hat, with sunglasses perched on a sharp, thin nose, and, strangest of all, carrying an umbrella, even though it was a bright, sunny day outside. 

They were strange characters to be certain, but Eliot saw them as more than what they appeared to be.

His eyes flashed gold as a deep, dangerous growl rumbled in his throat. 

“Ramhardt’s men, I presume.” Nathan flickered his gaze to Eliot. “I’m guessing they’re not werewolves, though.”

“Nope.”

Eliot stood, approaching the two strangers, and they stared each other down. The few remaining patrons in the bar could sense something was about to go down and wisely decided to vacate the place quickly yet quietly. 

With the bar now completely empty, the thin man glared down at Eliot, and Eliot stared him down in turn, scowling furiously. He flexed his hands, feeling long sharp claws begin to grow in as his lips pulled back to reveal long, sharp fangs.

The pale man in the black suit watched on, clearly amused. “Well, go on, Martin, don’t keep the dog waiting.”

The tall man, Martin, grinned unsettlingly. And then–

His form began to change. His form expanded, growing taller and thinner. Bony horns grew from his head, curling around his skull. His legs lengthened and snapped into goat-like hooves, his hands grew long wicked claws, a forked tail snaked out behind him as two enormous bat-like wings burst from his back. The man’s head reshaped into something more monstrous and goat-like as long sharp teeth poked out behind snarling drooling lips.

Eliot gaped at the bizarre creature standing in front of him.

What the fuck was that?

“BOOM! IT’S THE JERSEY DEVIL!”

Eliot started. Right there at the top of the stairs was Hardison, staring down with manic glee.

“I told you! I fucking told you! I told you the Jersey Devil was real!” Hardison cried, jumping up and down and pointing at the strange creature now standing in front of Eliot.

Eliot looked back and forth between Hardison and the weird winged goat-monster in front of him. “This is the Jersey Devil?” he said. He stared, then huffed. “Man, that is one ugly motherfucker.”

The Jersey Devil scowled, then roared. He pounced forward, claws and teeth brandished, ready to tear into Eliot–

Eliot charged forward to meet him, returning with a vicious roar of his own. In the mere blink of an eye, two inhuman beasts were tearing into one another, one a bizarre mix of goat and bat, the other a mix of man and wolf. 

Though the Jersey Devil was an intimidating-looking creature, it quickly found itself overpowered and overwhelmed as Eliot brought down fangs and claws alike. With a single swipe across the face, the Devil was thrown into a daze, and Eliot’s signature brawling method delivered an unrelenting barrage of blows that quickly brought down the creature. What should have been a brutal all-out brawl was instead over in seconds, the werewolf dropping the Devil to the ground with a few devastating but well-placed strikes. Eliot loomed above the Devil, growling viciously, one hand clamped around his neck, the other hand raised high, claws brandished.

“Enough,” the pale man called out. “Call off your dog. Your message has been delivered.”

Eliot hesitated, looking back over his shoulder at Nathan. Nathan gave a subtle nod, and Eliot stepped back, releasing the Devil. The Devil hacked and coughed, rubbing his neck as he staggered back to his feet, his form diminishing as he returned to his human form. Eliot did much the same, though he still kept his claws brandished, ready to leap back into action if the two strangers thought they’d try anything funny.

The pale man looked at Eliot and Nathan, pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes, a deep and rich crimson red, landed on them, and Eliot felt a cold creeping dread crawl up his spine.

Vampire, he knew in some instinctive, inexplicable way.

The vampire continued to look at them up and down, a note of begrudging respect in his cold undead eyes. He tipped his hat and gave a shallow bow to the both of them as he strode back to the door, his lackey at his heels.

“I shall send your regards to Mr. Ramhardt, then.”

And the two disappeared from sight.

Eliot flexed his hand, feeling his claws disappear.

“What now?” he asked Nahtan.

“Now . . .” Nathan said. “Now we do what we do best.”

****

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

It was a late, gloomy night in Portland. The restaurant had long since closed, everyone had gone home for the night, getting some well-deserved rest after a hard day’s work. 

Nate sat at the bar, drinking a finger of Scotch as he casually read a newspaper. The article was detailing a rather nasty fall-out of billionaire, philanthropist, and all-around scumbag Mr. Richard Ramhardt. 

Tax fraud. Gets them every time.

In the quiet contemplative silence of the empty bar, a shadow loomed, and the peaceful night was suddenly, and rudely, interrupted.

“Bar’s closed,” Nathan spoke up, not looking up from the paper. He didn’t bother looking over at the shadow that now approached, the shadow that stepped around to the other side of the bar as it took a bottle of Scotch and generously refilled Nathan’s glass.

“Not even for an old friend?” a British voice crooned.

Nathan finally looked up from his paper, barely suppressing a disapproving scowl. “Especially not for an old friend.”

“Oh, Nate, there’s no need for that,” Sterling said. 

There, right in front of Nathan, stood James Sterling. A brilliant and savagely cunning agent for Interpol, as shrewd as Nathan but twice as ruthless and unforgiving.

He was also an old business partner of Nathan. He was a man that Nathan had once called his friend.

But that was a long time ago. Back before Nathan Ford became a thief.

“Come now, let us be gentlemen.”  Sterling grabbed a glass, pouring himself a drink and taking a pull of the amber liquor. “While we can still be men, that is.”

Nathan’s expression betrayed nothing, but he was instantly on the alert. “What do you want, Sterling?”

“I’m here to give you a warning about your new dog.”

Now, Nathan couldn’t help but flinch at that, despite his best efforts. In his chest, Nathan could hear his heart pound.

How did Sterling–?!

“What, you thought I wouldn’t find out?” Sterling taunted. “I make it a point of order to know everything you know, no matter how ludicrous, no matter how impossible. So when I found out about what happened to Eliot . . . well. I had no choice but to accept the fact of the matter that the world is much more bizarre and savage than I ever thought.”

Sterling leaned over the bar, glaring down Nathan warningly. Nathan met that glare unwaveringly.

“So here I am now. Telling you that if Eliot steps one claw out of line, I will put him down like the rabid dog he is. And make no mistake . . .”

Sterling reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol, laying it poignantly down on the bar.

“My bullets are made of sterling stuff.”

Nathan’s fist clenched and his jaw tightened. “You still owe me a favor, you know. For Dubai.”

“So consider this an advance on that favor,” Sterling retorted evenly. “That I am even giving you this warning in the first place. Don’t think for a second that I won’t do what needs to be done, Nathan, if you don’t keep that wolf on a very tight leash.”

Sterling finished his drink and slammed the glass on the bar. He grabbed the gun, returned it to its holster, turned sharply on his heel, and strode out the door.

But just as he was about to leave, Nathan called out to him, and Sterling paused as he was halfway out the door.

“There’s still something you don’t understand about Eliot,” Nathan said calmly. “Eliot is not dangerous because of what he is. Eliot is dangerous . . . because he’s Eliot.”

Sterling lingered at the door for just a beat. “I’ll keep that in mind. Until next time, Nathan.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving Nathan alone at the bar.

Contemplating how everything had changed.

How everything had irrevocably changed.

But how some things kept staying the same.

Nathan poured himself another measure of the liquor, and drank long and deep.