"How the hell am I a werewolf? That isn't possible." Higgins became filled with doubt at what Rayla had brought to his notice.
"Werewolves are first turned into omegas by the Alpha's bite, well you just got the werewolf genes of the moon goddess from his untold daughter." She revealed.
"No, I won't take your word for it, I have to..." Higgins decided to test her theory, seeing as the light literally at the end of the tunnel was of the moon, everything would be solved, she would be proven wrong.
"You want to go into the moonlight, be my guest, but I promise to tally the people your mindless grey beta wolf kills and ravel in the death that will continue in your stead. There's a reason you joint the resistance in the first place." She wrought in the repercussions of her bite.
"You think this heeds anything, I'll just pierce myself with silver." He prouded his ability to still commit to his own demise.
As this was the one thing that was a surefire method for killing werewolves, maybe not as effective on betas as it was on omegas, but it could still do the job, Higgins still found reason to trump whatever twisted game that Rayla had been playing at.
"Trust me, Ectasy would kill a human way sooner than you held up. If it couldn't kill your lone human self and your strength obviously skipped the omega stage, do you really think some measly silver would clip your hind." She replied his temerity, in a manner that Higgins could testify to.
He had fought and hunted countless strong werewolves of which silver never proved a potent adversary to include in his arsenal, so did their corpses heed to the same attested effect.
"Your mother was a human?... Your bite, you turned me into this. Your scenario of earlier wasn't just gibberish. You tricked me!" Higgins had recounted the reason for her to conclude that ecstacy would kill as quick and linked it to her hinted mother's being a human.
This led him to also resurface the series of events that unfolded in that moment, her bite sent him into the frenzy of recollecting scalding memories, she dragged him here in that time and now she's revealing that passing on the werewolf gene was her only intent.
Higgins had bowed his head and slumped to the floor where he crouched and tried to articulate the volume that he had just finished rushing.
"What do you want?" He asked, as he remained without any intention to look back at her, rather maintaining his rendered state.
His hand had now become drenched with the 'shit water' of earlier, his adorned prison regalia that seemed like a butterfly design made out of faint slik, laced with holes in wrong places, all reflected the persona he emanated, a desperado.
Higgins minded though, unlike his arrogant display of earlier. He seemingly couldn't die anymore and would be forced to endure the torment of something more than the decade that preceded his death wish for even longer.
He had given up, or so it seemed as he also employed a false sense of giving her hope that he would conform.
Rayla had seen to his display and with a strong sense of empathy, she jerked thrice in trying to comfort him until she relented, "There's a cure though." Rayla reassured, as she made his gaze sharply spurn.
It felt as if a spear had pierced through the fourth wall. His gaze jerked, warding off any provocative montage that threatened to shatter the meager hope accompanying his long-awaited respite, as if to forget everything.
"That can't be true? I've never seen a werewolf get turned and still strive to becme human again." He led with a scornful rejection, depleting any hope that may have decided to cradle inside him.
"Sometimes, hope is worse." His position on the floor wasn't countered, so Rayla decided to join him, revolted by the black 'shit-water' but baring in mind her reasons.
"I know of a cure, it's potency can only be affirmed by a witch that lives in Notre Dame though but..." Higgins' self and depleted hope had now become all that remained as she mentioned an address off the island.
He shot himself out of his position, breaking away from her warm feel beside him and turned to face her.
"This cure... It's in Notre Dame? As in Notre Dame de Paris?" He shouted. "How the hell are we supposed to get to France?"
He actually put up a good question, which she was ever ready to answer.
"We aren't going to France, Paul, We're bringing the world to us." She said, as she failed to ignite any spark of hope with her even more confusing remark.
"What do you mean?" Higgins displayed his inability to discern what she meant. "And since when did you start referring to me as Paul." He called out on her assumed sense of familiarity in referring him by his first name.
"Since you're going to help me stop Ramsy and foil whatever meniacal plan he has, and find out what it is along the way." She replied, sparringly.
"And i ask again, what evil has Ramsy committed..." Higgins doubted her shallow layered reason to incarcerate the Delta, even though the suffering state of the pack outside the hold held enough to go by.
Rayla then shot out of her crouched position, seeping her vex at his trying to pin disbelief to her narrative. "He bloody killed my father, he left me because he thought I was a mere slave, not worth his claw. I'm very sure he killed your wife and daughter too, do you think he hasn't committed anything." She called out to one reason he held sacred, a reason she felt would actually cause him to take action.
His panting began to pace and follow the tune that his heart rehearsed with it's pounding that narrowed the tunnel.
He steeled his resolve and embodied the grief that accumulated for ten years. "it doesn't make a difference how they died, I don't..." He grunted and shallowed his words with enough emotions to contrast what his body language and action actually told to.
The hunter wouldn't see truth in her words once more and even if he did, he didn't want to care, even though he cared, he would rather anguish in silence than resurface a decade worth of grief to finally seek revenge.
Rayla gasped in silence at his heartless feedback. "...If you won't do it for me, since you don't have any desire to avenge your mate and child, do it for your cure then." All strings had been pulled towards insighting this singular threat, and she had woven a silk with the amassed thread.
"You would threaten me with that. What if I say that I won't mind being a werewolf?" Higgins attempted to see through to her reaction if he were to co-operate.
A ploy to sought her reaction if reverse psychology was applied. "That is an obvious lie and you know it." She had also caught on.
It was obvious that he didn't sway to the empathy she tried to offer him, so her tone returned back to
"I could just as easily kill you and get all the information I need from your corpse. Since you know as much as my family, you must also know my powers." Higgins boasted his ability, in retrospect of what he had accomplished with it.
"But you can't do any of that now, can you? You abandoned your art a long time ago. The Necromancer is all but a washed up, newly turned werewolf." Rayla harnessed the rage within him, forcing him to tighten his fist and envision a mirage where he would knock her to her knees yet he comported himself.
Higgins drew a sigh of relief to calm the spiteful aura inside him, "As much as I hate to reveal my being wrong the third time now, what do you want from me." Higgins had now become filled with compassion, or at least no other option.
"We need to ressurrect the former Alpha and make him rally his pack. He's going to tell them of how Ramsy ended his life and lead them away from following him. Nefario needs proof that Ramsy but for that..."
"You need a Necromancer who is skilled in allowing communication with the dead." Higgins led to a conclusion, one that left him short of words. "That's why you chose me." He seemed dissappointed, perhaps he expected more of a returned sentiment to his sincere prior advances.
"Exactly, but you already have the prowess of a Necromancer, we don't have the time to help you regain you abilities." She declared the glaring truth. "That's why we need another option." They needed an artificial means to have him ressurrect the former Alpha.
"What if your make believe plan doesn't work? Isn't ressurecting the dead Alpha a little too much?" He doubted the lingering truth that accompanied her plan.
It was quite extreme at the very least.
"Why do you think Vladimir could recognize who I was so easily?" She led to proffer a hopefully worthy answer.
"I'm leading with a guess here; maybe because you're the former Alpha's daughter or someone that lived there before..." Higgins sat back down as he gave replied that told themselves in her long tale.
"I have been there more times than times ten of the fingers on my hands, trying my best to convince corrupt werewolves of a scheme they paved it's way to ploy." She proclaimed the several times her attempts had proved unfruitful. "They're in on this as much as he's behind it. The council of betas are on his side and trust me, their roles leads an equal impression to Damian's."
"Then how does ressurrecting the former Alpha do shit?" Higgins asked.
"My father was revered by his pack, even the councils fear him because he was able to put them in check, but Ramsy gave them balls. They'll believe what he says and his dead self even proves more of a threat." She spoke in a manner that left Higgins' impression at a standstill.
"Do you have my cure?" Higgins had begun to barter his reason that would stem his co-operation, if it would exist.
"Uhmmm, well not exactly. But the Yoruba witch in Notre Dame should be able to tell us how to find it and if it's actually..." She gave him a reason to still be optimistic. "That's also where Rachel said we should go first, but we have to meet with her at Mavion."
"So the deal is, my cure for my help, is that it?" Higgins asked.
She wouldn't reply his obse
rvation but a smile crept it's way unto her face. "It won't be as easy as you make it seem." She said.