You can hear your pack moving through the other rooms in the apartment. But you're alone. And that's okay. You need your space right now.
You think about everything that's happened. What you've won... and what you've lost.
The moon is howling. It's new moon. You shouldn't be able to hear it. But you can. You can hear it all the time now, whispering in the back of your brain, along with all the brutal, bloody memories of that night.
killkillkillkillkillkillkill
There is probably some deep, moral lesson to be learnt from all this. Some definitive truth about werewolves, monsters, and the world you live in. But, you can't think of it. Not here, in the dark, lying alone on a squeaky spare mattress.
All you know is, if anyone else ever tries to hurt you or your pack again, you'll fight, with tooth, and claw, and the madness of the moon at your back. Because no matter how much you try to separate yourself from the wolf within, you know it's a part of you.
You're a person. Not a mindless monster... until you need to be. And when you need to be, you're unstoppable. That's what being a werewolf means. To ride that thin line between your two selves. To know when to be human, and when to be wolf.
[b]Epilogue[/b]
To most people, what happened that night was a tragedy. An act of senseless violence. A gang war gone wrong. But to those aware, it wasn't a just a bloody massacre. It was the start of something new.
Lawrence Blackwell, the vampire lord who'd ruled the south side of the city for over a hundred years, is dead.
The slow moving, bureaucratic Night Court didn't even seem aware of the conflict until it was too late to stop it.
Everything south of the river, from the eastern hospital all the way to the old industrial district, now belongs to the wolves... and they've proven they're not afraid to defend what is theirs.
Silver rings sell out of jewellery stores. Wolfsbane wards hang from door frames. Warnings appear, spray painted onto walls. Messy paw prints. Red lines. Crudely drawn skulls with animal's teeth. Stay out. Keep away. Danger. Beware. Death beyond this point.
Most listen.
But others don't.
Next
It starts with the homeless.
They trickle in slowly, drawn in by the rumours of a refuge from undead hunger. When it becomes clear the rate of disappearances has dropped, others follow.
First the poor, then the middle class who don't believe in this werewolf nonsense anyway, and then everyone else. Families, businesses, foreigners, and locals that have walked these streets their whole lives.
All are welcome... as long as their heart still beats.
Hunters come too, but vanish just as quickly.
Time passes.
The news cycle churns.
Fear fades.
Silver and wolfsbane are replaced with regular wards... or nothing at all. Different things are spray painted onto walls. For those that live near the old warehouses, they learn to look away when they see something they shouldn't.
Most don't know. Most don't even suspect. The city looks and smells the same as it always did. It still churns onwards as it always has. But it's different now. A vampire lord has been destroyed. The stranglehold the Night Court had over the streets has lessened. The wolves are here to stay.