Blood Trials

The sound of stilettos echoing over the manor's floor drowned out the harpsichord. Dominique was spread over a settee, reading her tattered, leather-bound tome. Ridley leaned against the harpsichord then huffed a breath. She stood up straight then walked the straight line towards the fireplace, not far from where Morgan was snoozing. The lace-lathered stiletto platforms she wore were a contrast to her black jeans and blouse. Tomás' boney digits were running over the harpsichord, although his eyes were on Ridley's fumbling. The Source halted halfway and exhaled her fluster, looking at white bridal shoes.

"Don't think, just walk," Dominique advised, without looking up.

"Dominique, there're about a half a million other things I could be doing than--" Ridley gasped.

She spun around to come face to face with Viggo. "Dr Strulovitch," he called. "You wanted to see me."

Ridley looked in the direction Viggo walked, seeing Strulovitch. A weather-faced goldblood. "Yes, I have some news." He had a receding hairline, a wrinkled brow, and a sagged, depressed expression, despite the eagerness in his tone. Ridley sighed then fell in-step with Viggo towards the monitors. "Time is of the essence, Viggo. These werebeasts need to be treated quickly after the first configuration."

"Oh, God," Ridley boomed. "What now!"

"Look," Strulovitch persisted. "These scans of missing werebeast - one, Morgan Isolde - show psionic brain activity." He went on, changing the slide to more unactive visuals, "these were taken shortly before he was field-tested. Notice the psionics are gone?"

"To the point, doctor."

"Psichemistry," Strulovitch began, "it's the study of psionics. Very few people are aware of psionic capabilities, even fewer have them. It's a link. A neurological/psychic link. Conjoining two minds along a central plain. Goldbloods create ajar when they feed victims their blood but these creatures..." Strulovitch shook his head, looking out the window towards a foxen woman on her hind legs, pushing a wheelchair. "For them the psionic link is not something to be forged. Psionic linking is their form of communication in their animal forms. I-it comes naturally to them. The werebeasts we've created? They don't have that link, but it could be engineered; they have the potential for it."

Ridley's lips parted while Viggo's dark eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "You can create the psi-line?"

"Theoretically, but it would have to be immediately after the first configuration." Viggo sighed then turned on his heel and made for the door. "We could also control them with it." Viggo - along with Ridley - were piqued. "I can ensure the werebeasts remain under control. I could manipulate the psionic current as it forms, and it will be as if they are implanted with a switch, which keep them docile and are also further controlled by coded auditory or olfactory triggers. A gunshot, for example, could trigger the predatory mode. The tampered psionics allow the masters to direct the werebeasts with a word or set them upon the scent of prey that needs to be destroyed."

"A hive mind?"

"Yes. One that won't affect them outside of the triggers."

"What do you need to complete this?"

"Nothing that we don't already have," Strulovitch stated firmly. "But you are aware of the risks that come with it. The subjects are in too much pain from the first configuration, as it is. I designed the procedure myself; using accurate positioning of probes inside the brain to send currents into the cortex that deals with communication. It's non-invasive, but it will be painful."

"And this is why you had us use twins?"

"Precisely," Strulovitch answered chipperly. The sadness on his face was going nowhere, though. "Psionics is unheard of to the general population, except in one supposedly 'unconfirmed' form."

Ridley stepped away fearfully. She almost slipped on the lab's tiled floor. "Twin telepathy," she breathed, stripping off the heels.

"The theory that twins share a psychic bond that allows them to read each other’s minds and sense when the other is in distress from afar. Many twins have claimed to have extrasensory perception. I proved as much was true for all twins; identical and fraternal. A pity I can’t report my findings to any of the established medical journals, but major science boards are dominantly stagnated goldbloods who wish to keep traits like eldritch, and all it entails, secret."

That would mean you share this trait with your sister, Ms Axel.

"I'm sorry, doctor. I will not approve this madness. I want a thriving therianthrope population, not an army. That is not our way."

Ridley stumbled and fell to the wooden floor. Morgan snorted then walked over to lick her face. Dominique offered her and pulled the Source to her feet. "You said something about twins, dearest. I take it you oversaw more of Viggo's handiwork?"

Ridley handed Dominique the shoes then hurried out of the parlor. Barefoot, with a grey and brown Morgan wolf on her heels, sprinted down the cobblestone road that led the manor to the rest of the school. "Ankh, tell me you heard that." The Source didn't slow down when there wasn't a reply. Instead, she led Morgan across the sun and moon dorms and towards the hunter facility. The school was mostly quiet, with more teachers out and about than students.

Morgan chasing her up the brief stairs to the restricted building was met with them both panting. Ridley speedily darted passed the gym, where the Guardian Unit trains, and down the stairs by the armoury. Belong the ground floor, were the laboratories used for a variety of reasons. During lockdown, the infirmary staff - the ones who were certified, that is - were helping organisations with the COVID-19 vaccine. Morgan instinctively sniffed around as they descended the steel steps.

Sayeed was on the other side of a bulletproof glass door, wearing safety goggled, gloves and a lab coat. With laboured breaths, Ridley let herself and Morgan into the sterilised space. The Egyptian set his petri dish into the water. "Hey," he greeted. He saw her strain then abandoned his cleaning site. "What happened?"

"Psi-line happened." Sayeed's eyes went wide. "There's some goldblood who, apparently, invented the study of psionics. He can synthesize it. He can control them."

Sayeed peeled off his latex gloves then crossed the lab towards his workstation. "Not that this's any consolation, but," he sighed. He handed her two vacutainer tubes with clear liquid in them. In Ridley's hand, however, there was a grey undertone. Sayeed went on, "it's not a cure. At best, it's an untested vaccine. One I have very little confidence in." Ridley pouted, hearing Morgan yap his defeat. "I'm sorry, but even with all the information you passed on, and samples of Morgan and Ankh's blood... whoever these doctors are, they know their shit."

Ridley inhaled deeply, shaking her head. "Small victories."

"Wow. That's big of you."

"Tensions are high, morale is low. I've done this enough times not to lose my cool." Ridley sighed, handing back the serum. "Have you seen Ankh?"

"I was actually going to ask you that. I haven't seen her since you guys got back from the colony." Ridley tilted her head wordlessly. "Can't you find her?"

"No," she said. "I can only sense when she's close by, even then, it's only her psionic footprint. If it was me, she would lead you right to me, no problem."

"I'm sure she'll be at the farewell. Apart from the Christmas Ball, she's never done anything like this." Ridley looked down to Morgan's glum form next to her. "Speaking of, we should probably get ready." Sayeed stepped forward then pushed Ridley's chin up to face him. "We'll get through this, kid." She merely nodded curtly. "And you were right. I can't choose for them," he added, looking to the grey and brown wolf. "I suppose I'm jealous. Jealous that I'm not like them."

Ridley furrowed her eyebrows at him as she collected his hand in hers. "I never told you this, and I probably should have." The Egyptian man turned his dark eyes back to the Source. "You would be the ultimate for Viggo. Being half therianthrope and half ampyra means your blood could juice up the serum. If not, they could make you an uber-therianthrope."

"Is there a reason you never told me that?"

"You're almost fifty, your ego doesn't need to get any bigger."

Sayeed scoffed dismissively. "I can't wait to see what concoction your ancient stylist picked out for you. Ooh, let me guess. Animal pelts? No. A chiton?"

"An authentic centurion battle skirt with matching Jimmy Choo's, actually."

The two - after Sayeed gave a snort-chuckle in response - fist pumped conclusively. "See you out there, kid."

Ridley pursed her lips as she exited the lab with Morgan following with her casually. Somewhere en route, she began combing his gruff with her thoughts calming down. Morgan shook out his thick coat when they returned to the manor. Sighing heavily, she passed the parlor. Dominique saw her and dove off her perch on the flora nouveau settee. Upon seeing her niece, Ridley felt the elation bursting from her for her next undertaking. Morgan returned to his patch near the harpsichord, where Tomás continued to play.

Dominique took Ridley by the wrist and rushed with her up the grand staircase, squealing endlessly. Down the dimly lit stretch of corridor, Mariska and Esmeralda were leaving Rowan's room. Without warning, Dominique grabbed Esmeralda and towed her along, up the brief steps that led into the former tower, that was now Ridley's round bedroom.

Forgive my protest but does a night of indulgence seem wise, given the circumstances, Onuris asked. Ridley ignored him, along with Ninsun agreeing with him. The Source pursed her lips at the sight of her steel coffer of makeup on her vanity. Carefully hung up on her wardrobe door - steamed by Dominique, herself - was the wedding dress. "While we're setting up, you are showering," Dominique dictated. "Go, go!"

In the shower’s warm water, she washed off the shampoo and the bad energy she accumulated in her short day. The day that started with walking Morgan around the school. She even took him to the stables to meet Mako! Once her trusty horse in her time as polo captain. Lance Weston inherited Mako, along with the title of captain. From there, Ridley was towed to go shoe shopping with Dominique for the matching bridal shoes she spent the last few hours avoiding learning to walk in. Evidently, Dominique succeeded in getting Ridley to wear them. Which only trailed into being sucked into a conversation with Viggo.

The fragrance of roses in her hair products were also aromatherapeutic and went with the pomegranate body scrub. The feel of her conditioner she massaged her scalp with also eased her faint foul mood. She stepped out of the shower and braced herself for the evening to come. The thought of facing her peers made her heart race; once a horde she could easily brush off with a mere narrowed eye, now an overwhelming wave waiting to drown her.

Dominique dried out her hair quickly to get started styling it however she wanted. In hand with store-bought shoes, Dominique also had purchased pearl hair pins. However she planned to use them was anyone's guess. Her uncharacteristic silence while playing hairdresser was telling enough that she was taking her duty seriously. On occasion, Ridley would feel tugs here and there.

On the other hand, Esmeralda went to work on Ridley's makeup - something Ridley hadn’t mastered yet - and took her sweet time with it. After tediously stroking on the foundation, Esmeralda picked out dark reddish-purple lipstick and dark eye shadow and started working carefully and meticulously. Her hands were steady around her eyes, and it paid off! She was chuffed with her handy work! Tears pooled in Esmeralda's eyes when she stepped back to admire her daughter.

The French woman too paused from her own task to swoon at the lovely face. Ridley beamed sheepishly at them. Dominique held up the hand mirror. Ridley's glossed, dark lips parted. "As I said, my battle angel is the finest du Luq beaut and-"

"I look like Ryan."

Well, you were identical were you not?

"No, Ninsun. I mean, yes, but..." Ridley pouted lightly then rested the mirror face down on her lap. "I'm sorry I took this away from you, Esmeralda."

"Poppycock," Dominique spat then held up the hand mirror for Ridley to see herself. "Take a hard look at yourself." Dominique finished putting pins in her hair. "Whatever my departed niece has done to earn her resting site, that's on her. You were not responsible for the decisions she made."

"And I would never hold that night against you," Esmeralda added softly. "Now? Now, I've had a chance to go shopping with both my girls. And don't for a second think you need to apologise for doing what's right. No matter how grim it is."

"Now, if we're done wallowing in the grey, there is a fabulous frock with your name on it!"

For the first time, as far as Ridley could remember, Esmeralda trilled excitedly. A commotion halted their celebrations, but when the Source peered out the window above her bed. She couldn't help but blush. Dane and Morgan alongside a revving red car. She could feel his heart racing just as wildly as hers. Ridley grinned wider than she ever had before, before turning back to the women in her life. She gave an accuing nod.

All the while, Tomás and Clarke and Sebastian kept Dane company downstairs. Mariska too was among their ranks. Ridley never noticed how Mariska had a slight limp in her walk. The Romanian blackblood had hair just as dark brown as Esmeralda - who kept hers a pinkish-red dye - and by extension, Mariska had hair like Rowan's. Mariska was petite; not near 1.60 metres, but a prolific hunter, nonetheless. Not much was known about her history, but Ridley pieced together that she lived through the Black Scourge.

Murky history or not, Mariska indulged Sayeed and his parents when they showed up at the manor's front doors. Calista came in, looking around eagerly and Ridley could feel her unease. Sayeed too had an air of worry permeating off of him. Ridley gave a defeated exhale when Dominique's roaring chipper descended on the stairs. Esmeralda, not far behind. The entire manor went silent with the expectancy growing deafening.

Ridley exhaled in tremors, squeezing satin in her clammy hands. On the dark, carpeted stairs, her shoes' muffled footfalls came thundering against the quiet. The bustier effect only highlighted her heart pulsating out of her chest. The du Luq family crest on her necklace - a roe deer on its hind legs - thudded equally as vibrant. The adrenaline roared in her ears. The spotlight cast on her from the horde of eyes was terrifying.

She dared look up to her audience, only to come face to face with the floored, crimson mug of Dane Sorensen. She shied under his owl-eyed gaze, looking to her skirt as she let it go. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, feeling him creep closer. “You look absolutely pulchritudinous." Her dark eyes shifted to meet his. A smile threatened to spread on her vermillion visage. "And, yes, I did Google that just to impress you. There aren't words in English, French or Danish to describe how immaculate you look.”

"Thank you, Sorensen," she mumbled, growing more red. Ridley felt his equally quaking hands, even before his reached for hers. Her jagged breathing didn't cease with the comfort of knowing he felt the same way. "You look great too," she piped up over the roaring quiet. She hardly took notice of how he looked, but the silence was painful.

Now that the words escaped her, the Source was forced to notice the grey waistcoat, tie and pocket square of his suit. Coincidentally, it paired with the silvery embroidery on her bodice. The grey in his suit didn't take away from the bouquet of white peonies he held out to her. "I-I remember you said these were your favourite," he murmured. "Esmeralda had them in the garden, years ago, a-and you would--"

"I'd put the dead petals in my mudpies," Ridley finished, with a short laugh.

"I was going to say you once rubbed them on your wrists, like perfume." Ridley's deep, glossy lips parted at his words. That didn't stop Dane from grinning like a Chesire Cat. "Then you itched like crazy," he added gracelessly.

The Source looked to the porcelain-toned peonies in her hold and gave jagged laugh. "I-I can't believe you remember that. It only happened once," she added - somewhat relaxing - before sniffing her bouquet. "Thank you."

The cherry hue in her cheeks paired with the garnet glow in Dane's own face. The manor around them faded, with neither of them looking away from the other. Underneath the deep red blush, the Danish grade twelve's skin was milky and smooth. A contrast to Ridley's Mediterranean, sun-kissed tan under her light makeup. The softness from his hand reached for hers, making her blush intensify. Tomás' firm gaze between them before he cleared his throat warningly.

Dane linked his fingers with hers, making Clarke - with Rowan in his arms - clear his throat. The two shifted away timidly, still intensely red. "All right, boys," Dominique purred. "Put away your metaphorical swords and let the young gentleman and the beaut have their fun. Shall we capture the moment on those portable telephone things?"

Ridley hummed a hummed giggle. "I download Candy Crush for Tomás and now Dominique is trying to be hip."

"I'm on level 25, sister!"

"Come, come. Get close," the blue-eyed woman dictated, almost pressing the two together. Ridley breathed her light disdain. "Don't look so prudish, dears, it's no secret you're courting." Dane chuckled his nervousness, feeing her exposed arm over his black jacket. "Oh, aren't they a pair!"

Tomás huffed. "I approve, provisionally, sister. So long as your escort he keeps his hands respectfully from your milk fountains and his seed sprinkler miles from your thatched cottage."

"Ignore that old codpole, young Viggo. Brave of you to assume our battle angel's cottage is at all thatched, Tomás."

"Ohmygod," Ridley groaned. "Please just take the picture."

"Oh, tush you! Don't pretend to not enjoy our scheduled waxings, at the estate."

Sebastian and Tomás only went pallid from what they heard. "And I thought seeing Ms Ridley's ankles was exciting," Sebastian stated. Tomás' deep blue eyes went cold on his ajar non-ampyra. "Did I say that out loud?" Sayeed, Clarke and Esmeralda were humoured as Sebastian took Tomás' phone from him. Ahmed, Calista and Mariska, however, weren't. "My, my, a lovely bride and her dashing bridegroom."

"Not while I draw breath," Tomás vexed.

"That bouquet is implying some strong subtext, lord du Luq," Sayeed pointed out, earning a degraded frown from both Dane and Ridley. "Nah, but serious; you look amazing, Ridley."

"Still no Ankh?"

"We haven't seen her in days," Calista admitted. "Do you think Viggo has her?"

Ridley shook her head. "She would've told me."

"She just needs time to calm down," Ahmed began. Just as quick as the sullen tone grew, it vanished. "And time is something you three are out of. Can't be late to your own farewell. Move it," he pressed, gesturing to the doors. "You know all the emergency evac routes?"

"Yes, baba."

"Weapons concealed and set to safety on?"

"Yes," Dane answered.

"And all of you have your earpieces?"

"Enough of that, Ahmed," Mariska began coldly. "Let them have their night."

"Mariska, Sebastian and I will be chaperoning, sister. Taking over from your parents, for they wish treat our shameless aunt to dinner."

"You call me 'shameless', I say I'm 'progressive'."

"Well, I say it's weird that you three are suddenly getting along," Ridley added.

"We have common interests, dearest."

Dane sniggered, making down the stairs with his equally sweat-drenched palm still holding onto hers. Grinning with a newfound elation, he guided her to a polished white car. Ridley furrowed her freshly plucked eyebrows. Dane gave a snorted laugh next to her as he opened the passenger door for her. Roof down, the moonlight contoured the black leather interior.

"Sorensen, is this...?"

"Jakob's Jaguar XK150? Yeah. Clarke kept it for me after he passed. We've been fixing it up together," Dane added as he closed her door. "He gave me driving lessons in this death trap."

Ridley looked across to Clarke munching on Rowan's cheek and his sweet giggles in the evening air. She beamed at him before Dane got in. The car gave an abrupt bounce before the Source spun her head to the backseat. She sighed her relief then turned back to the front. "Every couple needs a third wheel," Sayeed commented.

Dane shook his head without saying anything. He started the car. Ridley gasped. Dane turned to her quizzically. Sayeed leaned forward, resting an arm over each head rest. Dane glanced to him then looked back to her, staring ahead. Ridley pressed her lips together in a tight line. She shook her head then held her hand out. "It's okay," she stated. She was blinking erratically - on the verge of tears - then her breath hitched.

Dane took her free hand, squeezing firmly. Ridley closed her eyes and threw her head back. The firm bun, set elaborately in place with pearls, pressed into the back. She squeezed Dane's hand then whipped her head towards him. "You okay?" She only nodded. "You sure?" Another soundless nod.

Dane skeptically looked ahead before he all too excitedly revved down the cobblestone road in his uncle's car. The wind was cold in through the evening setting of Dunon Academy and Dunon Town. The Barnyard was pumping, when they passed, and crazy colourful lights were flashing wildly inside. The town square was also alight with night life; even the Grey's Inkorporated tattoo shop, ran by Morien Grey, Edwyn Grey's younger brother. Ridley made a mental note to introduce him to Tomás.

Late Jakob's vintage ride cruised right to the edge of town, to the country club. A bitter taste boiled in Ridley's mouth. Six months ago, almost to the day, Ridley faced Renee there. Almost losing her life, Ankh's life, and possibly more lives. Renee had Tomás' gorgeous deep blue eyes and it was hard not to see parts of her in his face. The Source sighed deeper than she had before when she saw where her former classmates were trailing.

The pecanwood hall; the very hall where she met Renee in their final altercation. Sayeed squeezed her exposed shoulder while Dane rested her hot hand over his elbow. A few teachers, students, hunters and the occasional parent would look their way, appalled. Ridley inhaled sharply then inclined her chin upwards but clung both arms onto her date.

Beyond the garden-like parking area, was a candle-lit cobblestone path completely coated in white rose petals. The surrounding area was drenched in lanterns along the path. There was also a fountain with candles floating in all its sinks. With the clear night sky above, trees in bloom and a stringed quartet in the air, from the wedding not far away, it was beautiful. Under the stars, hidden by the trees, were benches with lanterns on either side. Sayeed, leading the way, brought them passed the double doors of glass.

Ridley swallowed hard, pressing her black nails into the black jacket with more and more eyes of awe and disdain turning her way. She looked to Dane when he rested his hand over hers as they filed inside. The venue was mostly open with just pillars holding up the roof. There were soft pink and silvery drapes hanging from the ceiling. There was a deejay, with speakers throughout the hall playing mellow and ambient music that was still easy to dance to. The tables were dressed with soft pink tablecloths and the chairs were white. The tables were set up away from the space in front of the deejay’s table, which formed the dancefloor.

Sayeed "Do my eyes deceive me," Sayeed began haughtily, "or is thee Ridley Axel nervous?"

"A time-honoured combination of peak shallow friendships, cleavage and shamelessness has arrived, and you expect me to be in a good mood?"

"You know," Dane started softly, "y-you didn't have to come if-if you..." She shook her head in protest but didn't say anything on the matter.

Sayeed looked between them with a growing concern on his face. "Okay," he sang. "I think I'mma put third-wheeling on hold and go find someone to drink."

"I'm sorry," Ridley sighed.

"It's cool," Dane answered, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. The Source sighed then relaxed her shoulders. "D'you want someone to drink?" She nodded, jittery, and walked with his square disposition. He led her to the bar that had the alcohol warded off but was still for sale. "Glass of O, for the lady, and a bourbon. Red bourbon, please." Ridley blew a heavy exhale out her mouth, looking at her interlinked fingers. Dane lightly nudged his elbow in her ribs, earning a wriggled, small smile. "You look amazing."

"You said that already."

"I really was expecting you to rock up in a tux, or something."

"Not with Ninlil walking this Earth." The Source rested a hand around her glass of blood, lightly clinking it against Dane's blood-lace bourbon. "Ninlil was Dominique's name back in Mesopotamia." She took a long sip of blood and Dane saw her nerves settle.

"I bet she gave you a Mesopotamian name too."

"Davinca," Ridley answered with a light nod.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on," Dane began abruptly. "Mesopotamia is in modern day Iraq. H-how do they have blue eyes?"

"My grandmother, Allatu, she was Mesopotamian. Apparently Adrahasis wasn't. After Allatu died, he took his daughters away from there. By the time they reached France, he died from the Plague. Neither Dominique nor Aimée knew if he actually was French. Either way," the Source lingered on, feeling her brother not far away, "the du Luq blue eyes/black hair trait is incredibly beautiful, isn't it?"

"Meh," Dane commented. "Axel brown eyes and grey morals have more appeal to me," he purred, nudging into her again. Ridley rolled her eyes, but she was chuckling. "Sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied starting to hug herself again.

Dane cupped the small of her back and guided her to their square table. Mahogany with blush-cream tablecloths over them. A stark contrast to the blood-filled drinks they had with them. The tea candles surrounding the bouquet of mauve roses also cast a red glimmer onto the table. The get up was lightyears away from the carnage Ridley and Renee left behind.

Pecanwood hall had been set up for a wedding, but was covered in gold and black blood by the time Christmas Ball had ended. Renee - relieved of a better portion of her throat - was dead and bleeding out where the deejay booth was set up. Ridley was clutching onto her guilt and agony not far from where her and Dane's table was set up. And Ankh had been tossed in the wall where the snack table was.

Over there, by the snack table, were paper lanterns in the shape of air balloons hovering about the mahogany tables. There were seedling bushes dangling from the baskets with fireflies flickering around them. There also glass lanterns that had glowing crystals in them. It was then that Ridley noticed the main chandelier was made to look like roots creeping through the ceiling. Candles in place electric bulbs shone from it.

Sayeed caved into the seat on the other side of Ridley then looked between her and Dane. Ridley, still bundled up meekly, took small sips of her blood. Every move she made, the candles on the table made her silver embroidery glimmer. It was floral and only on one side; creeping from the waist. As modest as the ball gown was, it had Dane spellbound. The gaping swigs he took of his bourbon and the ambient noises never once stirred his dark eyes off her.

The Egyptian hunter looked between the two. Watching Dane's puppy eyes twinkle on the crestfallen Source. She was glowering at a candle, using her eldritch to turn the flame white. She would flick her eyebrow, her eldritch would cease and the flame would return to its glow. Sayeed noticed it too. He briefly watched the tea candle go between a ghostly white and its original glow. The Source continued to just sit there, soundlessly, with her arms hugging herself.

They weren't the only ones not feeling the mood; a few students - almost an entire horde of them - were starting to leave. The music albeit the right volume, wasn't worth dancing to for most. The food - apart from the drinks - was mediocre: cupcakes with stale icing, skewered chicken that was drying out, a pile of samoosas, a pile of finger sandwiches, strawberries and grapes on sticks, sweets and candies in cocktails and vases. The only saving grace was the chocolate fountain, but it wasn't enough to save the night.

Non-hunter students had the luxury of simply leaving, but Sayeed, Dane, Ridley and Marie Chasseur - who was keeping Marcus company - weren't so lucky. Orders were not optional. The few students scattered about were, at least, trying to make the most of their night. The glitzy dresses and pressed suits around the room were growing fewer by the hour. A few teachers, parents and hunters also led a battalion of students back to school.

Conversation was mild under the pop music and Sayeed sat there, watching couples come and go through the songs and the hall, at large. ‘Love Me Like You Do’ by Ellie Goulding hummed through the speakers. “This song still exists,” the Egyptian hunter sneered.

Dane exhaled shakily then turned from Sayee to Ridley. “Hey,” he called softly and then downed his last mouthful of liquid courage. She looked away from the flickering candle flame to her date. “Would you like to dance?” Ridley beamed smally at him then nodded begrudgingly in reply. “Okay,” he added nervously then stood up and took her hand.

The Source followed him to the floor, with her hand in his and her free hand holding onto her dress. The off-white wedding dress was tugged upwards, revealing her white platform heels. Ridley’s firmly set bun was still in place, even from leaning into the Jaguar's headrest. She cleared her throat lightly then rested her arms around his neck while his were wrapped around her waist. While Ellie Goulding was pleading with the listener for love, Dane nestled his head near her bun. Her arms trailed down to the biceps under the formal black jacket.

Around them couples were lip-locked under the shadows created by the overhead candles. Teachers were chaperoning though they were hardly in sight, including Tomás. The Axe sprayed across the Danish hunter was mild and combed through the Source's nose without making it tingle in agony. Steely, almost tediously, her angst subsided, allowing her to melt into the firm arms around her.

The gossips were certainly loving the spectacle! Dunon Academy's resident bad girl all dressed up, after months of hiatus. The rigid unease returned when the Source started picking up on the conversation. She straightened up, almost pulling free from her date. It wasn't just one group either: Carson and Moonbeam at their table; Hadria and Marcel, a couple swaying not far from Dane and Ridley; even a few of the hunters inside the hall were indulging some teachers. Sensing as much, Dane blew on her face.

She gave a weak smile but continued listening around. Among Carson and Moonbeam was Alex, Ryan's boyfriend. One of few non-hunters who showed Ridley any kindness, as brief as their exchanges were. While Moonbeam and Carson's conversation was beyond the bounds of the Source's capabilities, Ridley knew they were on about her. It wasn't how they laughed when they caught her looking their way. It was how Alex's face fell when her gaze met his. Dane made his hold on her waist more firm.

Ridley hummed in his arms as Ellie Goulding toned down. She looked into his eyes and blushed as she turned away to hide her grin. Dane rested his forehead against hers as the next song started. He could feel the rigid back in her posture, though, and sighed. "Please tell me what's wrong." She took a modest step back, but he tugged her back to his chest. "Are you uncomfortable with...?" When he couldn't find the words, he gave another hefty sigh.

"Sorensen, my breasts are pushed up to my ears from the bustier Dominique stuffed my in; my face is heavy from the makeup Esmeralda painted on me; these shoes are a mile high; and most of my scars are visible to anyone who bothers to look. Yes, I'm uncomfortable." In seeing the fret growing on her date's pale face, the huntress slumped her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I just want this night to be perfect and normal and I don't know how to be normal. Nothing in my life has ever been normal."

Dane - clammy hand and all - took hers and led her passed the table and beyond the doors, where the music grew muffled. The Source pouted when they began a stroll, away from the farewell. Ridley’s arms fell to her side and the gorgeous grounds laced in flowers and lantern. Dane took in her awe, as he looped her arm with his. Throughout the garden were wrought iron benches. Some were in full moonlight and others were in the cold shade. He sat her under a tree dressed in fairylights and lanterns. The music of their farewell was heavily muffled, and the wedding nearby was emptying.

Dane caved next to her, shifting to face her full on. "I met Viggo last week." Ridley's lips parted. The lightly-done dark grey eyeshadow almost vanished from her widened eyes. "I-I want to believe he doesn't want to kill me, but..." He leaned into the backrest with defeat awash on his features. "My mother used to tell me that he was too busy for us. Jakob used to tell me he wants us both dead. I lived my life not knowing who he is, and I always wondered. And now he's re-creating a whole race." He looked back to her squarely. "There's nothing 'normal' about either of our lives, Ridley."

"That's just my point. Look at us. Trained to hunt since we were babies. Fighting? Always fighting and look where that's gotten us. Tonight was supposed to the one night we could experience what the non-hunter students live every day. And d'you know the worst part? The worst part is that whenever someone's talking about me, it's always about hunting. And for a long, long time, I let that define me. Nobody cared to remember that I was captain of the swimming, soccer, chess or polo team, that I played in a dozen drumming competitions."

Her date nodded in realisation. "That's why you can't stay in Dunon."

"While I was in France, I got to learn to be a person. I learned to play violin, and work in this amazing confectionery, and do something other than sharpen knives and shoot arrows at flying apples. Here, I'm Scary Axel; the hunter who beat Clarke's long-standing accuracy record; the one who made hunt by killing her own sister." She hummed sweetly feeling his warm hand on her cheek, snuffing out the cold breeze. "The merit-devoid perception of me, honestly, is exactly how people look at my scars," she mumbled, X-crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hey, I gave you a few of those," he exclaimed as he took her wrist. She tugged herself free, unwilling to move. He sized her up. "When you said your scars make you uncomfortable..."

"It's just a harrowing reminder that peace will forever elude us. No hunter ever got a scar from making crème brûlée, Sorensen."

"Maybe not crème brûlée, but sewing machines are a hazard."

"I think it was worth it," the Source replied, stroking his jacket. Dane furrowed his eyebrows at her. "You really don't think I recognise your handiwork?" She revealed the lining on the inside. "You're the only person I know who's right-handed but sews with his left. Right-handed stitching on a sewing machine goes over-under. Left-handed stitching on a right-handed sewing machine, goes under-over."

"My mother was a lefty. That's how she taught me."

"That tailoring school is going to love you." She didn't need to look away from his jacket because she could sense the quizzical on his face. "Sayeed told me."

The Danish hunter inched her chin upwards to face him. His lips pressed into hers, making her gasp. His hands gathered around her neck while hers gripped his wrists. Ridley hummed. Ridley gave in. Ridley pulled Dane closer. He plucked away. "Show me your scars, Ridley Axel," he ordered. "Show me every damaged part of you, and let me love you still."

"I can't," she whispered. "There's just too much."

"Start with earlier," Dane started. "In the car. Was it another vision?"

The Source leaned into him for support. "I'm hard-pressed to call them 'visions'," she admitted. "They're more of snippets of a live feed." Dane gathered her in his arms, leaning his face into her crown. "I saw another set of twins go. Félicité and Évariste. I couldn't sense Évariste for a while now, but seeing Félicité? She was such a teddy bear. Sometimes, I could hear her singing in the back of my mind. I'm sorry I put you in this position.”

"Don't be. I know where my priorities lie."

"Did you forget I can feel when you lie?"

The hunter groaned and threw his head back. "I hate having a girlfriend I can't lie to."

"Red flag."

"You know what I mean," he jeered. He looked back to her and the satin dress she wore. His hand never let go of hers and he squeezed tighter. "If you got a chance to know your mother, would you?" Ridley arched an eyebrow at him sullenly. "Yeah, no. Don't answer that," he grumbled.

"I would have loved to get to know Renee," she confessed. "Then or now. Growing up, I was usually the one asking Ryan what she thought Renee was like." Dane sighed then hunched forward. Ridley cast a reassuring hand over his shoulder. "If the opportunity to get to know Viggo presents itself, you should take it because regardless of the circumstances, you have a right to know your biology father." Dane furrowed his eyebrows. "And rest assured that if he breaks your heart, I'll break him."

"Thanks, Rid--"

"Ow," she groaned and cupped her forehead. She jumped to her feet, looking around. "Speak of the devil and he will appear."

"I come in peace," Viggo stated. "Relative peace, at least." Dane stood too. Side-by-side they squared off with the Viking. "Listen to her, my son. Please, I only want a chance."

Dane took Ridley's hand - never looking away from Viggo - and wrapped it around his waist. "I'll listen," Dane admitted. "Only if you stop all this. You set the remaining children free, and you end this." Ridley also kept her gold-ringed eyes on him. Her hand slid under Dane's jacket and felt his holster. "This's madness."

"Just let me show you," Viggo countered. "See it for yourself before you decide."

"In what world is kidnapping and experimenting on children ever realistically okay?"

"You will never understand; you're too young. Had you seen the atrocities the vampires committed to my people."

"You're a goldblood, Viggo. You're not a therianthrope."

"I... what do today's kinder say... I identify as a therianthrope."

Dane looked to Ridley for supposed. "That wasn't cringey at all," the Source stated. She furrowed her eyebrows, unsheathing the gun. Her eyes turned back to the pecanwood hall. A great deal of adrenaline was starting to surge from Marie and Sayeed. "He's stalling."

"I am, but trying to stop me will do no good," Viggo stated. "We came for one thing, only."

"Go," Dane ordered.

Ridley stuffed the gun into his chest. Tuffs of satin in hand, she dashed back down the candle-lined path. The sound of snarling was met with a foxen on her hind legs. Ridley gasp then grabbed a glass lantern. She flung it at the fox. Her heels caught in the rut between cobblestones. She fell to the floor. The Source rolled over. She grabbed her Beretta. Aiming quickly at the therianthrope, the fox snarled then pranced into the darkness.

The Source scampered to her feet, kicking off her platform heels. She continued towards the hall. Growls and barking came from everywhere. Ahmed tore off his black shirt as his already towering height only grew. She bolted passed him with blotches of his skin falling onto her. Inside, Marcus had Alex, Moonbeam and Carson shielded behind him. Not far away, Marie threw her razor boomerang at a raging hyenian.

Ridley threw a dish at it. Tsakani turned to face her. She shot Marie's boomerang down. "What're you doing here," the Source bellowed, rushing towards them.

"They're after someone. A therianthrope/vampire hybrid," he stated. "How's that possible?"

"Biology, that's how," she spat. Ridley looked passed him to her former classmates. "Chasseur, get them out of here," she ordered. None of them budged. "Now," the huntress bellowed. "If you see men with guns, don't get shot. The tranquilizers are deadly."

"Come," Marcus ordered, shoving Alex. He was at the rear of Marie's flock but leading it more than she was.

Ridley looked around pedantically. "We can't let them find him, or Morgan."

"How is he?"

"Stick around and find out," the Source concluded, following a black wolf that was chasing Sayeed into the kitchen.

A paw pierced into her shoulder and flung her into the deejay's table. Doja Cat's Say So whirred off. Ridley found herself face-to-face with the foxen woman. In their primal form - on their hind legs - the contours of therianthrope should their sex - and this woman was curvy! She rivalled Dominique.

Her coppery coat, under the candlelight, was thick. The huntress turned the safety off her gun. "No shock collar means you're willingly doing this. Stand down, and I'll let you go."

"You're cute, Cinderella," she countered, gesturing to the bare feet. "When we create a new Source, I'll you use you for a scratching post."

"I really thought you were going to say, 'chew toy'."

The foxen charged! Ridley fired a shot into her shoulder. The foxen smote her into the wall. Ridley rapid fired! The foxen didn't slow down. She swiped the demolished deejay table side as if it were nothing. The Source emptied her barrel. Ridley hurled the gun at her. She pulled out her karambit. The hooked blade's finger ring allowed her to spin it over her hand.

The fox towered over the Source. Ridley slashed her ankle. She kicked the furry chest. The foxen stammered. Ridley slashed up her torso. Blood and fur burst onto her. The foxen grabbed her wrist. Claws rammed into Ridley's core. The Source screamed. She grunted. Ridley rammed the karambit into the foxen's shoulder. They both fell to the floor.

Ridley unwedged the claws from her sternum, screaming all the while. Gasping erratically, she rolled to her side. Ms Axel, you flee! This will do more harm than good. Ridley screamed, arching her back. Her sternum cracked into place. She wheezed, coughing up blood. She bit back tears. I implore you! This's madness! Ridley bunched her skirt as she stood up.

Earnest, this is all your doing! You chose a hunter, of all abominations, as our successor! Ridley looked to the foxen. Leave now, girl, or you will the end of us all! Ridley ripped the karambit across the foxen's neck for good measure. She looked down at her ruined dress then sighed. Ignoring Ninsun, the current Source fumbled towards the kitchen doors. She groaned, cupping her ribs, as she pushed though the doors.

"I'm not done with you," the foxen hissed.

She hurled Ridley onto a griddle. The Source's wide eyes turned to her. The deep gash under the fur had healed up. Ridley crawled across the griddle. She grabbed a skillet. She flung herself across the counter, turning on the gas under the pan. The foxen squared off with her across the island griddle. The huntress cupped her ribs, groaning.

The foxen bent her knees, wagging her thick tail seductively. Ridley, panting, didn't break eye contact with her. Ridley hunched forward defensively. A snarl came from the therianthrope woman. The woman sprang! Ridley struck the skillet! Her monstrous paws hit the piping griddle. Ridley swivelled aside. The Source backed away, calculating. The therianthrope was bouncing about like hot oil from the griddle.

"Sayeed," Ridley bellowed. She couldn't sense him. She exhaled then gasped. Tomás roared the pain in his arm. He doubled over, cupping his arm. Therianthropes just passed him by after that. "No," she exclaimed.

She turned back to the fox. A claw marked her face. Ridley hit the steel sink. A burst of rage surged through her veins. She let out a battle cry and grabbed a carving fork! Blinded by white hot rage, she jammed the two-pronged fork through the fox's head. She ripped it out and began stabbing the therianthrope in the head. She stabbed and stabbed and stabbed until the handle broke off with the fork left in an eye.

She pulled the fox face back. Her other hand grabbed the carving knife. She rammed the knife through the fox's forehead. Ridley leaned into her pointy ear that flicked away from the closeness. "Scratch on this," the Source whispered then slammed the huge furry head into the sink. The fox fell limp to the floor. "Sayeed," she breathed. "Sayeed!"

She stormed out of the kitchen's back door into the cold evening. Looking around, she saw nothing. She shut her eyes, tuning into him. Nothing. She bolted through the darkness, gathering her skirt as she sprinted. Looking left and right, on her descent, seeing and sensing nothing. She skidded to a halt when she saw the wall around the country club. This is not your fight. Leave and never come back. The Source bit her lower lip. She surveyed what she could of the street.

"S-sister..."

"Tomás?" Ridley and sprinted back up the incline. "Tomás! Tomás!" Heart racing in her chest, the Source was panting. The hard cobblestone was replaced with damp grass. She detoured through the picturesque garden that cut off the one banquet hall from the pecanwood hall. "Tomás," she roared.

"Ridley!"

The Source followed the trail of Dane's voice via his psionic presence. She shoved hunters aside, squirmed between them, ducked passed them too. She looked around then jogged passed the fountain to find Tomás sitting on a marble bench, under the supervision of Dane. The pallid dread that filled her face was nothing compared to that on Tomás' face. Tears started burning in her eyes when she stumbled across the pecanwood's front steps. Her feet were heavy as they dragged across the cobblestone.

"What happ-- Tomás?"

He breathed heavily then looked up to see her trembling trepidation. Tomás stretched out his hand, revealing an emptied tranquilizer dart. "I'm alright, sister."

"No, you're not," Ridley countered, caving into the bench.

"Hey," Dane called softly as he knelt in front her. He pushed her bulbous skirt up to her knees and set her shoes back on her dirtied feet.

“Tomás, this’s tempered therianthrope blood, mixed with mine.” She hunched forward, feeling the adrenaline subside. Her hands were shaking chaotically with the dart in her hold. "Margrethe said it's deadly."