Remembrance [IC]

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Maps of Remembrance

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Kittery had been perfect, it had a water front for fishing, it was slightly isolated along the coast, it had been a fairly small abandoned town, and it was in relatively good repair. She was beyond happy when she had settled in, and she had been even happier when a tribe of werewolves agreed to leave her be when she first arrived. It was odd she never had been fond of the mutts before then, they always scared the shit out of her, and probably because of the first one she ever met ripped her to shreds. It had taken 5 years of hard work before the place was livable for her and her son; during that time she had even repaired some of the other buildings around the area under the werewolves unwavering gaze. Soon after her son Caleb named the town Remembrance, it seemed an appropriate name for the abandoned town.

After about 8 years the wolves began requesting that the human members of their clan move into one of the buildings. Not long after that they were able to restore power to the town through a small dam up river, with power came running water, then the sewage systems. Some of the boats had been repaired not long after the werewolves moved in to the town with their mates. It was funny to think just how long it really had been. 10 years of hard work and the town had been restored with a small population living in it; staying hidden from the Vampuric Order. In the end they had repaired about 22 houses, 3 fishing boats, 3 boat houses, a general store, the police station, a small restaurant that they now made into a bar, and a car repair shop they had ironically turned into a smithy for horse shoes and tools. The roads in and out of town were long since destroyed by the plant life and floods that were common in the area. All of the various attempts at finding others in the wilderness of the north were met with a sad reminder of just what had brought them all to this point.



Life was hard, but it was easier in a community that trusted one another, and after so many years of living so close they had grown dependent on each member’s skill and labor. The town was livable now, the fields to the west yielded hay for the live stock, food for the humans, and cotton for cloth. This year they had finally finished the independent electrical generator at the old mill it let them keep things refrigerated, frozen, and stored for the long winters. They always tried to keep everything ran off electricity; never knowing if smoke would attract unwanted attention. Even being this far north the Vampire Republic might notice them, and the idea of that frightened her beyond reason. These humans and wolves were her children now, and she could not fathom letting them be enslaved or killed any more then she could fathom them killing her own son.

Josephina's long, pale, graceful fingers stroked the dust off the front of the voice recorder that she clutched in her hands as she thought. She was leaning against an old wooden fence pole not far from the small settlement. She sighed and hit play as her bright blue eyes looked over the ocean not far away the first glimmers of dawn lighting the horizon over the black sea. Her red hair fell in ringlets around her face and shoulders as the wind gently tossed it about. She didn't look like she was a year older then 16, but her eyes portrayed a wisdom far beyond the confines of her youthful features. The voice on the recorder was a woman's calm, beautiful, with a tone that sounded almost like she was telling a good joke, but the tone quickly turns to sadness and despair.

"The year is 2038 we all witnessed the gates of hell open on the 25th of December 2012, and from that time we continue to strive for freedom. I really don't know how it started. I just remember the death, the chaos, and the darkness. I was only a little girl after all, just 8 when it all happened. I remember the news reports I remember the images of the creatures ripping themselves from the gateway. And then I remember them.... It seemed odd, people that I had seen on the street at night, people that we thought we knew. People that turned out to not really be people at all, but more like things? Yes…Things would be a good description. They fed off of us.. the living.. and when the gateway opened I guess there was no reason for them to pretend anymore? Pretend... HA!.. yeah I guess that's the truth. Once the super natural world was reviled, they didn't need to worry about the game anymore. So the Vampires stopped playing after the Mages opened the gateway, then it all went downhill. The humans fought, valiantly even, for almost a year. But the Vampires had control of everything.. they had puppets in every office.. in every system of government. So even when we tried to fight they just shut us down. In July 2014 the non aggression pact was signed between them and us."

"Most of us that were left were shipped off to breeding colonies in various areas all over the world. Concentration camps would have been a kind way to put it.. Death camps would have been more truthful. Those that went peacefully believing the propaganda, were experimented on, lobotomized, and/or used as slaves. I was lucky I was above the 36 parallel.. the line the Were-wolves took as their own in North America. Lucky though is one way of putting it.. Unlucky could easily be used to describe it as well. Vampires may be dead things that took our freedom, our lives, and our world.. but were-wolves are creatures that hunt us much like deer. North America has gone back to the wilds. Electricity, gas, sky scrapers, grocery stores, hell even roads are not much more than a memory anymore. But!...... that doesn't stop humanity from trying to survive among the ruins. We live in small packs in the wilds, some of us even have treaties with the local were-wolf packs. Vampires are an ever present worry though. They aren't supposed to go above the 36 parallel, but that doesn't mean they don't.. That's why we started the "Hunters" we hunt everything from Vampires to wolves, and of course every fucking Mage we come across. But I really don't think even with all that, even with the talent we have that we can ever go back to the way it was before."

A mans voice sounds in the background, "Get ready they're coming!!" His voice panicked seeming out of place with the woman's voice; there is a slight pause.

Then she starts talking again her words a little rushed,
"Before all hell broke loose, before when we were the rulers of Earth.. or so we thought. I'm making this so some one maybe will remember that humans were once free... And maybe remember me.. I'm Elsa Roberts a member of the last human remnants of Chicago. The date is October 22nd 2038 let it be known we held out for 5 days before now. May God have Mercy on us all!!"
A loud crash is heard and gun fire then several screams before utter silence and the tape stops.


Jo had played this tape over and over.. It reminded her that others were out there, she had found it during one of her many searches for humans still held up in the wilds. In general she was lucky to find even one human alive and well, when she went searching.

Looking back at the small settlement hidden among the trees she grabbed the reins of her white horse that had been tied to a gnarled wooden pole. After turning the horse to the town she put one foot in the stirrup and swung her other leg over the creatures back. With a quiet click of her tongue she urged it into a light trot towards the glimmer of lights from the bar that sat near the dilapidated docks. The horse’s foot falls echoed off the rocks next to the rough path that led along the coast. Jo pulled her jacket back over her shoulders, as she lay against the horse’s neck avoiding the low hanging branches. The sun would be up soon and she had to get herself to home in the police station behind the bar. She had always thought it slightly ironic that they had given her the title of sheriff, she always thought of herself as one of the least law abiding individuals around, but the title gave her certain liberties as well. Her horse happily plodded on knowing that as soon as she reached her paddock grain and other treats would be waiting as they always did.

Bright light shown through the window of the small house and right onto the face of the young 19 year old. He opened one of his dark brown eyes and squinted in the light before quickly closing it again and rolling over in the bed. The bed was so comfortable, the mattress soft under his body it seemed to him as if he sleeping on a bed of clouds. He had never really had a bed before moving to Remembrance a week ago. Before that he had traveled the country side, with the forest floor as a bed.

Everything was so different here, in Remembrance, there were people galore. About 20 or so he had counted, he had seen more people here in the last week than in his entire life in the country side. There was a general store, a police station, a bar, and homes everywhere. He had never expected to ever see anything like this, these were the things of the stories his mother had told him about before the gates were opened. But he had never really thought they were a real, just a fairytale, a world woven for a little boys dreams.

Sighing and finding it impossible to sleep with the light that poured through the window, Ian got up. He sat up in the bed putting his feet down into the plush carpet and wiggling his toes in it for a second before standing. He pushed the mess of mid-length brown hair out of his eyes and behind his ears and made his way to the bathroom. He laughed remembering the first time he had saw the toilet, he had jumped back in terror as the contraption began swirling his pee down the drain.

That had taken some getting used to, but it was certainly a commodity that he now felt he could not live without. Washing his hands the young man went back to his room and pulled on a pair of Khaki shorts and a white wife beater. He gave the messy room a glance around, debating rather or not he should clean it up and deciding against it he left the house. Ian walked down to the bar doubting it was open but deciding to check and make sure. Finding it wasn't he walked around the small town, watching keenly as the people began to wake up and began there daily lives.

The gray flakes clouded the world around him as he walked through the skeletal black forest. It was much like walking through snow except his lungs burned from the ashy flakes and it was hot.. So hot. His fingers kept brushing the soot from his face as he looked through the tangled maze of burnt branches and large flakes of falling ash. He had been here before, so many times but all those times seemed so long ago now.

He felt like he wondered through the falling ash for hours his lungs burning his heart racing he knew that time was running out, he had to find his way out before...
before.....

"Before I find you,” a whisper came from behind him. It was a man's voice, quiet, distant, and ghostly; though it had an odd familiarity to it. He jumped in place the ash now calf deep around his legs, as he turned to see the origin of the voice. Only seeing the twisted remains of the burnt forest and the confusing spiral of falling ash.

"Hello?!" He yelled into the dead woods, but no answer came. Nothing made a sound, the flakes fell silently, and the world around him seemed dead silent. He thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye and he quickly turned to see what had evaded his sight. His lungs burned with the warm sharp ash that was already coating them. Then he saw it, a doorway masked by the black dead branches and the falling flakes. He stumbled inside the huge black doorway and leaned against a pillar that framed it; looking out at the ash covered world.

"Thissssss way." Something whispered from the darkness to his left; it came from inside the building. His head turned sharply to the sound, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out any outlines in the oppressive darkness. He rubbed the ash from his drawn face with his already coated hand; he had always been thin, almost sickly so. No matter how much he ate, no matter what he ate, his body always was lightly muscled, but over all gaunt and pale. He could only guess that it was because of his Father, he was told his father was a demon, though for some reason he doesn't really remember the creature. He was told he had met him many times, but Caleb's mind could never grasp the pictures, nothing more than purple glowing eyes in the oppressive darkness ever touched his memories when he thought of the creature that had sired him.

He heard a crack from behind him and his eyes turned to the ashen forest. A woman stood there in a black cloak her eyes were hauntingly familiar, as she stood utterly still in the flurry of ash. Her face was the color of the flakes that fell around her, but the flakes never seemed to build on her shoulders or head. Her eyes seemed to be looking deep into him, as if analyzing him.

"THISSSsss WAY!!" The voice sounded like it was right in his ear as he quickly turned to the dark hallway to see who it came from. Nothing met his gaze only a dark long hallway that seemed to go on forever. He quickly looked back to the woman standing in the falling ash, but she was gone. No foot prints, no trail, no hint she had been there to begin with. He quickly turned back to the hallways and marched down its shiny black floors. He felt like he had been here before, it felt familiar somehow. As he went he could see twisted forms out of the corner of his eyes and a growing anxiety pushed him to move faster through the hall. Soon he was running full out, his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs screaming for air; the loud echoing of his foot falls booming in his ears.

He felt like if he stopped death would be waiting so he pushed himself harder the hall blurring next to him as his feet moved faster pushing him harder until the hall opened into a huge room. Forms mingled in the darkness as braziers lit around him. He found himself standing in front of a creature with huge black curved horns that wrapped around the front of its snout, purple glowing eyes, large black feathered wings, and a body that looked like the charred remains of a man except for the skeletal tail that swayed lazily behind it. Its purple eyes narrowed then it smiled, or it bared its fangs it was hard to say really because it had no mouth until it decided to form one. Lips parted revealing a black maw that had not been there a second prior. And it held out its skeletal chard arm as a long sword seemed to piece itself together forming in its outstretched fingers. Caleb reached to his side and found no blade; the creature tilted its head and then raised its other hand and wagged a black, skeletal, taloned finger at him.

"Tisk tisk.. Now my son..... Your reward." The creature drew the blade back at an angle craning the point towards Caleb's chest then slammed the blade forward with inhuman speed. Caleb felt pain radiate through his chest as his eyes looked down. The blade was sticking through his heart and blood rolling from the wound as he looked up at the creature holding the blade. Instead of the scorched monster stood a man with white hair and pale skin smiling at him. Both men were nearly nose to nose, as the white haired man pulled the blade from his chest. His knees buckled as the world turned black. He was falling as the pain radiated through him.

"NO!" He heard the cry escape his lips as he sat up in his bed looking around. The distant crow of a rooster told him where he was as he looked down at his bare chest. Nothing showed on his thin frame. "Just a dream," be barely breathed the words as he flopped back to the pillow and covered his face with his arm. "Damn.. Hey!! MOM!!.. Anything I need to take care of for you today?!" Her bellowed as he lay on the bed hopping the tasks she would set him to would be enough to distract him from the growing anxiety caused by the dream. No answer was uttered, and his eyes quickly snapped to the window as the first rays of sun filtered in around the black curtains.

"For the love of Gaia!!" He sat up and quickly laced on his old deer hide boots. He hated when Jo took risks like this, she was always one to tempt fate, and it drove him insane with worry to say the least. He was in the reception area of the Police station, or what used to be. The place where the counter had once been was gone leaving only a small wood bed, a rough wood nightstand, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a small rickety table that acted as a work station for various tasks that needed performed through the day. A hallway trailed down from the entry room that led to where the offices once were. In its there stead now laid leather of assorted shades sizes and thicknesses. Caleb worked leather, he had taken it up when him and his mother were first setting up the settlement. Now it was more of an art form. At the general store he traded the leather items he made for various other supplies other members of the community produced.

He quickly grabbed a long black leather cloak he had made for his mother from the hook by the door, and the short sword that hung not far from it. His eyes looked hopefully at the door stoop for her boots and saddle; only to be met with disappointment. She was still outside; he felt anger and fear race through him, but his cool icy features portraying nothing. As he stepped into the early rays of sunlight that filtered through the foggy morning air; his dark eyes searching for the red haired woman and her white horse. He was only in his linen pants at this point and the buck skin boots; the cold would have made a normal man shiver from it. Caleb’s pale thin frame however did not so much as show a goose bump in the misty air. Along the tree line he saw a glimpse of white. His keen eyes narrowed and focused as he tried to see the source of the white through the dense trees that hugged the shore line. Then he saw the flash of white again. It was her weaving her horse along the rocky path a good distance away her form once again disappearing under the tree ridden shore. She had moved past the bar and was almost to the stables as his frown deepened. His hand clutched the black leather in his hands as he marched across the rocky clearing towards the woods she rode through slinging his belt and sword over his other shoulder. She was going to get a mouth full this time for sure!

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

The early morning crisp frost covered the windows of the darkened house. Though, there were very few windows on the dreary, pretty house. Come to mind, how would one describe a dreary, yet beautiful house? Well, lets see....the house was quite large, much like a mansion, and designed like one from the Victorian age too. The old mansion was colored a dark red-like color, nearly looking as soft as velvet. Balconies hung from the building, glowing white, from the dark of the red. If the sun were to hit it, it would look even stranger attached to the house, which sat so far in the wilderness. The mansion had it's own courtyard, with a giant, glowing, eerie-white color. In front of the house sat a sparkling, beautiful water fountain, which contained a stone angel, who held an arrow in one hand, while the other clutched a blade.

Now, most people would be thinking right now, Who would want such a strange, old house? Well, the answer is a very strange, young mistress who brought it all the way from her old home herself. She even brought the dead flowers. The potted plants decorated the house at every table, the maids and work-force replacing them every couple of months. Though, this raises another thought. Who replaces these maids and servants when they die off? There is also an answer to this, but it shall not be acquitted with an answer for now. We shall get on into that later, when we meet the mistress of the abode.

Well, now to get to the tale. Early morning, indeed. The coldness was still in the air, chilling the humans of the small palace to the bones. Why would a person work in such terrible conditions? Times were hard, and many people found themselves homeless and jobless, with no money, and no where to go. There was much room in this giant mansion, and with the help constantly dieing out, there would always be. New people arrived quite frequently, looking for food, or a place to stay the night. The mistress is not too cruel though, and allows them to stay as long as they want, as long as they meet the following conditions: 1. Mind and respect the mistress. 2. Don't make a mess of yourself, or anything else on the estate. 3. Be kind to the other help, that reduces the amount of deaths. and 4. You must be in uniform when on the clock.

All help was given a specific job in the house. Tend to the mistress, cook, clean, manage the estate, replace broken things, go to the nearby village and buy new things, including furniture, food and the like. A spring fueled the mansion with enough water to serve all who lived there. Speaking of the village earlier, the house is actually quite far away from the village. The village is miles away actually, and takes a horse to reach before noon. There is also a reason for this that will be gotten into later.

On the upper-most level of the mansion was the largest, and most disturbingly beautiful room. The mistresses room. The room contained a large bed, an extra large bathroom and closet, and contained one very large mirror. Though, why a mistress such as her would need a mirror she can't see herself in is beyond this storyteller, but nonetheless it does tie the room nicely together. On the far side of the room, the whole wall is made of windows, stained glass, with drapes pulled above. These giant, stained windows lead to the biggest balcony, which had a roof over it too, to protect it's mistress from her worst enemy. Well, one of her worst enemies.

Dressed in an ornately ruffled dress, with ribbons hanging and flowing in the wind, sat the mistress, in a small chair. She was so small, her legs could easily dangle off the chair and swing freely below. She had her small, cute head rested between her childish hands, looking out into the orange tint of the morning. The way the house sat, the sun wouldn't reach her until a little into noon. A cup of tea mixed with her favorite other drink sat in front of her. Her hazel eyes stared in childish ecstasy at the forest, still wondering what it would be like to leave. She always wanted freedom, which is why she was here. But even here, she didn't have complete freedom. Suddenly waking from her thought when she heard the sudden clack of her head-maid entering the terrace. The maid was dressed in an old French-maid uniform, the style the mistress preferred. She slowly walked over to the beldam, sitting the tray, which held another tea cup and a tea pot, among other various things, on the small table.

"Isn't the light of morning the most beautiful thing, Sakuya?" Aoyoru Yokentokei said to her chief-maid, smiling quaintly, not taking her eyes from the scene of her courtyard.
"Very much so, milady~," The fond maid of the mansion replied humbly, taking the young mistresses cup and refilling it. "Sugar milady?"
"One lump. No more after this, I'm getting full," Aoyoru replied with a slight snootiness about her, shaking her head, and making her dark hair flip. She then turned her hazel eyes to her, her expression saying business. "Sakuya, your sending someone to town today, correct?"
"Yes madam~" Replied the easy-going maid. "We need more supplies and furniture. The couch in the Fourier has broke."
"Hmm.....Well, tell the servant to also look for help while there," Aoyoru said, then took a sip of her tea. "We're starting to run low on butlers."
"Well, it seems help is getting harder and harder to come up with. Last year, we only got half the number we had gotten the previous," Sakuya said fretfully, but quickly corrected herself with a glance from the mistress. "But what would milady prefer? Job-application, or find a beggar?"
"Both. We need all the help we can get," The mistress said with a slight elegance about her. She sipped her 'tea' again (if you could call it that).
"Will do, milady," the graceful servant agreed. She quickly picked up the tray, and with a bow to her mistress, left the balcony. The mistress blinked a couple of times, before looking out into the estate again.

“Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked,
Money don't grow on trees,”

Darcey’s voice whispered the familiar song to himself as he did a hundred times before trying to pass the time. It was one he heard often when he was home, so singing it made his mind ease slightly.

Three months had passed; it was one of those assignments Darcey felt like he had been pushed into doing because his master hated him. He hated to travel alone through this kind of territory, but at the same time every task he completed brought him closer to his goal. He wasn’t getting any younger, and the thought that each task he was assigned might be his last chance to prove his worth gave him hope every single time. The sun was beginning to rise he could hear it in the birds high above him in the canopy. So far all the rumors about human settlements seemed to be a farce. So many of his masters believed that there was another fight some place for them, another chance at showing how much better, stronger, and smarter they are compared to the humans they already poses.

“I got bills to pay,
I got mouths to feed,
There ain't nothing in this world for free.”

His southern accent rolled the words of the next couple lines off his tongue as he continued to run through things in his mind.

Of course he would never say anything bad about his masters; this was all his particular assessment of the situation. He could really only guess how they thought, they were so much older than him, so much stronger, so in truth how could he even slightly touch the corner of their point of view. He sighed and ran his grimy fingers through his oily hair. His blue eyes looking up through the canopy as the sky high above grew lighter. He was hungry and tired but he was not about to rest now. He was running low on his stores... and he didn’t want to go through withdrawals here.

“I know I can't slow down,
I can't hold back
Though you know I wish I could,
Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked,
Until we close our eyes for good.”

He sang quietly to himself as he looked through the branches above him

He had been following the remnants of a road for so long he was having problems keeping track of time. He only moved away from the dilapidated highway to hunt and hide from wolves. One of the gifts his masters gave him was a sense of smell that allowed him to avoid the roving drool machines. Damn flee ridden mutts; he didn’t understand why his masters were so careful around the fuzzy dirty mortal loving…. Hmm he would have to come up with more descriptions of them later. His mind was too tired to really concentrate on anything for too long anyway. Suddenly the sound of a rooster made him stop in his tracks and look around.

“Da Hell?” His voice croaked out in a thick southern drawl. He had heard that sound before, but it was a long time ago when he was back in the camps with his sisters. He shivered visibly at the thought of the camps; his master had liberated him from the squalor when he was very small. He never did know what happened to his sisters, but he really didn’t care much. His oldest sister always had been a pain in his back side; she never understood their masters like Darcey knew them. They were Gods, lovers, masters, and they were his entire being. Without them… Darcey’s mind reeled at the thought of what life would be like without his master. He shook his head and then listened again for the familiar sound. The rooster crowed again and he began to jog through the woods towards the sound. He kept thinking in the back of his mind that it was probably just a wild bird.

He couldn’t hold back the hope that it was what his master was looking for though. A real colony of free humans left in the world, it was said that the wolves only could take human mates, but that seemed to be a silly thought considering that no one ever had seen the humans with the wolves. Darcey could see the forest not far ahead clear as he slowed his pace and pulled from the broken road that he had been following for so long. He climbed through the ruins of an old house that’s roof had long been lost to the elements and peaked through the vines that now stood where its walls once had. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked over a field of horses, cattle, and sheep. Huge divided pastures lined the clearing with well maintained wood fencing. His eyes scanned the area farther out and he noticed repaired homes, farm fields, and barns. This was it, what his masters had thirsted for, once he returned home he would finally be given what he craved. With this Darcey would be made into one of them, and he would finally be free of his pathetic frail flesh.

---

Josephina Moira McGregor

Her horse’s ears perked as she weaved through the dense branches. Intermittent rays of sunlight fluttered through the mist finding her flesh; small burns being left in their wake. It wasn’t something she really cared about honestly. Each burn healed almost as fast as it happened, though she would need blood soon after this little miss adventure if she wasn’t careful. A light breeze whispered through the trees and she ducked her face down against the horses neck pulling her old denim jacket up around her neck as she laid curled on the horses back. She was happy for the patch work jacket it shielded most of her flesh as the leaves turned from the breeze. The early morning mist was already beginning to dissipate from the small breeze and the warm rays of the sun.

She pulled her mare to a stop as they hit the edge of the tree line and her blue eyes flashed purple for an instant as she scanned for the shadiest trek to the stables. She could have just taken her horse to Caleb and asked him to put her away, but what was the fun in that? She had been created to be a weapon, and all the calm years here began to grate on her nerves. Even the normal werewolf brawls seemed too tame now a days. No one ever got seriously injured, and of course they wouldn’t let her fight because she bit. What was it with werewolves not liking to get bit by a leach.. Seriously.. Big pansies. She sighed as her eyes found the trail of shadows that would lead her to the paddocks. She would have to urge the horse to jump the tall wood fence which would at the very least be interesting.

She gathered herself in the saddle and her white mare began to twitch waiting for Jo’s next movement. Then when she leaned forward and clicked quietly at the horse’s neck the animal irrupted into movement. The animal seemed to move quicker than a horse should as it bolted through the shadows and leapt the 7 foot tall wood fence like it was nothing; with Jo giggling like a fool through the whole thing. She sat up and pulled the horse into a trot using her legs and swung the horse towards the barn. The building still shaded most of the horse pasture in its massive frame. Jo agilely slid from the saddle and began unbuckling the horse’s saddle and bridal. Once she finished with that she seemed to blur from view reappearing next to the horse, which seemed not to even notice the speed in which the woman had just moved. Jo held a bucket of oats and barley for the mare and set it down on the ground. The horse moved to stick its muzzle in the bucket but Jo stopped her hissing quietly. The horse’s head snapped up at the hiss and snorted as the big blue eyes watched the red haired woman expectantly.

“Ohh!! Noo ya don’ lass! Patience is a good thin.. Besides.. I didn’ ‘add the othar stuff ye’d.” Her Irish accent rolling through the sentence with a smoothness that only the Irish could truly muster. Jo made a fist with her left hand as a single long curved blade slipped out from between her pointer finger and middle. Blood rolling from the cut, the emerging blade made, then dripping into the bucket of oats at her feet. Jo’s blue eyes glowed purple for an instant once again as she watched the blood drip off the blade and her hand a slight smirk gracing her slender lips. Then pulling an old bottle of molasses, she had recovered from one of her searches, poured a small amount over the blood concealing it. The curved blade shot back into her hand quickly, giving the ring of metal on metal is it did. She licked the back of her hand sucking on the quickly closing wound as she patted the mare’s neck with her free hand.

“Thar ya go Lass.. all yars.” The horse lowered its head into the feed bucket and began to eat happily. Jo inspected the wound made from the blade that had slid from the inside of her hand and grinned. Her fangs long but already beginning to retract back behind her pale lips. She grabbed a horse hair brush and began running it over the mare as she happily munched at the grain. Her eyes caught movement on the far side of the pastures in the forest line and she tilted her head narrowing her eyes trying to focus on what had moved. Her eyes having issues with the bright light from the sun reflecting off the green leaves of the forest. The other horses in the pa-duct seemed to have noticed it as well as their ears twitched nervously. But just as soon as they looked they went back to grazing seeming not to be too terribly interested in what ever it was that had caused the issues to begin with. Jo sighed and looked back towards the main roadway. Her eyes caught sight of the back of Ian as he stumbled to the bar. It was a shame he seemed to stick to the day light, a habit she was sure he had picked up from living in the wilds, it always seemed to deny her the pleasure of chatting with him.

Her blue eyes watched the well built youth march towards the bar and she sighed wishing she could goad some one into a fight. She already knew that everyone would just roll their eyes at the overly exuberant Sheriff, pat her on the head and send her on the way. What was it with most werewolves being about a full foot taller then her anyway. Damn Yanks never did know how to have a good time. Who would have thought werewolves would be the kill joys in this town. She sighed as her eyes moved towards the police station and the topless slim man that was marching towards her with a look that would have made a brave man shrink back in fear. Josephina of course met Caleb’s hostile glare with the fangy cute grin of a teenage girl that was knee deep in it, but didn’t care in the slightest.

“Mornin boyo!!” She bellowed at Caleb then her eyes looked back to Ian hoping he might come over and save her from her son’s wrath. Jo wasn’t fond of being lectured, especially from her own son. Judging from the purposeful march and the dark glare of the frail looking man, Jo was going to get a lecture that would make Jeffery Domer mend his ways.