BH Fanfic: Aftermath ch 21-25 (over 15's only)

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Twenty-One

Michael was laughing openly. “So how did you manage to do that?!” He asked, delighted by Annie's tales.

“I still don't know but there were vampires flying here, there and everywhere. I just got really angry, I suppose, and it just happened.” Annie replied. “I was upset at what they were doing.”

“Sounds to me like you got all righteous and instinct kicked in.”

Annie looked at him, surprised. “How do you mean? Like channelling my power?”

“Exactly, yeah. Just like when you changed into this lovely dress right here. Channelling your power into something you want, or want to do.” Michael sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh, it looks like we're late.”

“So where are we going?” Annie asked, wondering where Michael was planning to take her. She stood up and smoothed down her long, red, strapless dress self-consciously.

Michael stood too and leaned forward to touched her bare arm, running his hand down her arm to grasp her fingers gently. She felt a pleasant thrill under his touch. “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” He asked, shaking her hand coyly from side to side as he spoke. Annie laughed with a combination of embarrassment and appreciation of his high praise. “I'm going to miss that pretty face of yours after tonight.” He lamented softly.

Annie pulled back though stopping short of drawing her hand from Michael's grasp. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm going away at midnight.” He informed her sadly. “I was having so much fun here. It was bringing back so many memories – pleasant memories. But I have to go.”

“I don't understand.” Annie admitted, searching Michael's face for an answer. For the first time since their first meeting, he seemed downcast. “Why do you have to go? Don't you like it here?”

“I don't want to go back. Not alone.” He held Annie's gaze even as he reached for her other hand which was dangling limply by her side in shock. He gained a note of excitement in his voice, a look of hopeful inspiration as an idea hit him. “Maybe you could come with me. Oh, Annie, we could have such adventures together. We could do anything... go anywhere, be together.”

Annie seriously considered the possibilities he offered but her memories of the things that had happened here had her shaking her head even before she spoke. “Michael, I'd love to but I, I just can't.” She replied, “I'm happy here.” Michael dropped her hands and turned, walking a few steps away before stopping. He kept his back turned and head bowed.

“We could be happy, you and me.” His voice was low and choked. “Why? What's stopping you? Is it him?” Michael raised his head. “Is it John?”

“Mitchell – we call him Mitchell. And there's George. And Nina.”

Michael twitched and was facing her in an instant. “George? Nina? Ohhh, these are the other friends you mentioned? If they're such good friends, why are they never here?” He intoned harshly.

Annie frowned, not liking the disapproval she was hearing. “They are, but you don't see them and they don't see you.” She retorted defensively.

Michael sighed and held up his hands placatingly, though he momentarily looked puzzled. “I didn't mean anything by it. Its just... I hate seeing you imprisoned like this. You might like it here, but you could like it more somewhere else. Or not. How will you know unless you try? But I'm sure, if they were real friends they wouldn't want to hold you back. Am I right?”

Annie found herself nodding, knowing that if it was really what she wanted to do, the others would respect her decision. But the things she, Mitchell and George had been through together, they were so close. She wouldn't want to have to be anywhere completely without them. Perhaps she wouldn't even be able to be here without the boys.

“Then whats the problem? You could come with me tonight. And if you don't like it, you can come back here.” Michael suggested reasonably, but there was something in his tone that had Annie inexplicably concerned. He sounded confident that she'd come with him.

“Well, I can't possibly go anywhere until morning.” Annie said, waving a hand and walking around a little, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. “I need time to let them know, I have to make sure they'll be alright. And a chance to say goodbye.” Stress lent an edge to her words which gave her away.

Without inflection and without looking at her, Michael spoke. “There's no time for that.” He turned to stare at the corner of the room, the corner where Annie's door had once appeared to take her to the afterlife. That corner seemed to be in shadow despite the room being brightly lit. This concerned Annie and she stepped back but Michael simply appeared in front of her and grabbed her by the wrists, holding up her hands near to his face. His eyes were hooded, the warmth all but gone. “If you won't come willingly, then you will come... unwillingly.”

Annie was chilled by the words, for the first time frightened by him. Part of her was screaming, cursing her for her weakness and demanding that she not be a victim any more. But her struggle against Michael was half hearted at best, and even her words lacked any kind of power. It was like he was sucking her free will from her simply by touching her.

The lock on the front door rattled and the door opened. “Its only me. I had to walk thanks to George. I just came back to...” Mitchell walked in cheerfully but stopped on seeing Michael holding Annie in a less than loving manner. “What the hell is going on here?” He strode forward, instantly incensed. He reached past Annie and shoved Michael back hard. His grip broke and the ghost staggered back, catching his heel against the leg of the low table. He wound up sprawled on his back on the floor. Annie fell against Mitchell the instant her contact with Michael was broken and he held onto her. “What the fu*k do you think you're doing?”

Michael rose slowly to his feet, glowering at both of them. “For that, vampire, you will be Judged.” As he spoke, Michael began to change. Not only his clothes which were becoming dark and ragged, but his features. It was almost as if they were melting. His high cheekbones smoothed out, his brows, nose and prominent jaw seemingly bleeding back into his flesh until all that remained was a blank canvas with only two black holes as eyes and a thin black line representing a mouth. Bizarrely, though, he was still talking, even as he changed. “John Mitchell, you will be taken from this world by my hand and given over to the inhuman mercy of we, the Judges. We will bind you to the Truth of your existence and with the cudgel of Judgement, we shall determine your fate. I, Michael the Gold decree it.” He spread his hands to the side, palm out revealing swirling black spots in their centres.

The front door banged closed. The smaller items around the room, books, cups, CD's, the TV remote and ornaments all began rising and moving. The cups in the kitchen began exploding one by one. All the doors and cupboards in the house, upstairs and down, banged rapidly. Some items from the living room swirled together into a kind of vortex in front of Michael. Other items were thrown against walls or toward the two house mates. Mitchell and Annie cringed together and retreated, simultaneously trying to avoid the many ceramic projectiles and keep an eye on Michael. As a thick, heavy parcel wrapped in brown paper hit Mitchell's shoulder, Annie was stunned to see Michael begin to transform again. In one hand, a coil of rope began to materialise and in the other, a large, rough stick covered in reddish bark.

“And you, Anne Claire Sawyer. You are to be judged also. Once you turned from us, an unresolved and unjudgable soul. But you refused a second chance, chose to avoid Judgement. To avoid Judgement is to deny fate, and fate cannot be denied.” Michael raised the hand containing the rope. “You two shall be bound by Truth.” He threw it to the ground and it rose like a snake with the ornaments from around the room swirling faster above it. The rope moved fast, wrapped around Annie's body and pinning her arms to her sides before she could cry out. At the same time, the other end of the rope, which seemed to be, impossibly, growing longer, grasped Mitchell and wound tightly about his person. Though it looked and moved like a normal twine rope, it had the strength and immovability of steel. “Now bound by truth, I shall take you to the Judges.” Michael said flatly.

He disappeared, reappearing right in front of Annie. In a whisper and with some of the feeling possessed by the human-looking Michael she had begin to fall in love with, he said, “You could have come willingly. I would have given John his freedom and you could have had all the power of the Judges. We saw in you the Potential. We would have given you the power to determine who was given the light and who was cast into darkness. But you made your choice.” He ran a finger down her cheek and Annie flinched away with a whimper.

“You get the hell away from her!” Mitchell snarled, all fangs and midnight eyes, as he kicked out at Michael. The vampire was struggling hard against his binding but the rope grew tighter and tighter around him.

Michael, unperturbed, faced the angry vampire and smiled as best he could with only a black slit for a mouth. “Hell. An interesting choice of words, John, considering your position.” Michael's empty sockets blazed briefly with fire.

“A supernatural fu*kin' Guy Fawkes doesn't frighten me.” Mitchell hissed – he didn't need to breathe, per se, but air flowing past the vocal cords was needed to in order to speak. Right now, he could barely bring in enough of a gasp to share the defiant words in his head. Michael raised the hand bearing the cudgel and swung it hard sideways. It connected with Mitchell's right temple with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor and laid still.

The vortex in the centre of the room suddenly stopped, as did all the activity elsewhere. The items, though, remained suspended in the air, twisting a little like a weird kind of modern-art wind chime. There was an absolute silence, like a vacuum and Annie saw the darkness from the corner of the room begin to creep along the wall slowly. A corridor appeared within the darkness and had she not been bound by the rope, Annie might well have fallen there and then to the floor.

Sliding the stick bearing Mitchell's blood into the belt holding up his shredded clothing, Michael stooped and lifted Mitchell's limp form easily onto his shoulder in a fireman's lift. He set off walking toward the dark yet perfectly visible corridor. Annie, held by the other end of the rope, was dragged along behind helplessly, her eyes fixed on her friend. She had to do something, but what?

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Twenty-Two

The dark corridor with the white light at the end drew nearer as Michael drew them along. Each stumbling step revealed more detail. Over Michael's shoulder, Annie could now make out people in front of them. All of them in torn and blackened clothes, all of them, she now knew, had no faces to speak of. All would carry sticks and ropes. Michael was one of them, these Judges. At least now she knew what they were called.

Mitchell's body hung limply ove Michael's other shoulder, his head rocking gently with each step. In all of this, he was an innocent. Mitchell, in spite of his past, or perhaps because of it, was a good friend. He was one of her very best friends. He didn't need to be judged – he was just Mitchell. Mitchell who cared for his friends, defended and comforted them. As she thought this, Annie began to get annoyed. She loved Mitchell. And she'd be d**ned if she'd let him be taken from her like this. She'd be d**ned if she'd let her other very best friend come home to an empty house tomorrow morning. And, she'd be d**ned if she was going to let another man destroy her life. Each thought made her angrier and angrier.

Annie raised her head and stopped in her tracks, jerking her body backwards and tautening the rope of Truth. The move made Michael lose his grip on Mitchell and the vampire fell to the ground a few feet from the black corridor. Michael turned sharply, obviously startled despite his having no expression on his featureless face. “What are you doing?” He asked tonelessly.

Annie's eyes began to change, lightening from her usual dark brown to a shimmering lilac. If Michael could have looked afraid, he would have as Annie's hair began to blow around, rising in a wind he could not feel. She raised her chin.

“No more.” She commanded, as the items hanging in the air began to burst and fall to the ground, light bulbs exploded and the furniture began to rattle. “You come here. You pretend to be a friend. You make me love you, and I was falling in love with you. You do this then try to tear me away from all I hold sacred. No. No more and never again.” Annie needed no effort at all to raise her arms, shattering the rope around her as if it were glass.

“That's not possible.” Michael snarled, losing his emotionless facade. “The rope of Truth is unbreakable!” He raised his hands once more, those dark swirling spots in the centre of each palm building in speed. The broken shards of the ceramic casualties of this battle were flying here and there with lightening speed. Annie, hands now by her sides, merely raised an eyebrow. No way would he take her and Mitchell without a fight.

In the kitchen, every drawer and cupboard swung open and each and every item inside flew out on her whim. “The rope is not unbreakable, Michael. But I am. You taught me too well about control, and now, I will show you the meaning of the word.” Flicking her fingers in Michael's direction, everything flew toward him at breakneck speed, smoothly flowing around her to get to him. There was a series of dull clangs as the pans hit him. Michael raised a hand as dozens of jars of jams and preserves soared at him, shattering their contents all over him and the wall behind. Some even travelled a way down the corridor where the Judges appeared to be awaiting the outcome of the battle. Michael managed to raise a hand and deflect more and more of the projectiles as the few unbroken cups headed his way. Some he fired back at Annie but they never even got close to the target.

Michael tried a new offensive and with a sweep of his hand, caused the couch to slide straight at this troublesome poltergeist. But Annie saw it coming, the house warned her well in advance. This was the thing Michael failed to realise. He has thought her bound to the house and her friends, but she was not. She was the house's mistress and it served her, carried the essence of her human life within its walls but did not bind her. That, she already understood clearly, was why the pipes and plumbing had rebelled. It knew the reason she had not passed on because it was a part of her life, and of her death. But only now, as she battled the Judgement, was every fibre of the house was under her control. As she was learning to shape herself and her appearance, she would, in time, be able to shape the house to her whims. She was as certain in this knowledge as she was in knowing she was able to beat Michael. For now, though, she contented herself by stopping the couch dead in its tracks and sliding it back against the wall beneath the window easily with a wave of her hand.

On the floor, Mitchell stirred, feeling a crushing pressure building up in the room. He was at Michael's feet and the Judge appeared less than happy. A glance ot his left showed Annie standing, unbound and utterly serene in the centre of the maelstrom of household items once more careening about in the air. He believed she looked like an angel in that moment, a pure, beautiful, avenging angel. The moment was broken when he was almost brained by a flying mooli grater and decided to scramble to a more secure position by the wall. In this kind of conflict, he was of little use. It was with a sense of pride he could see Michael was struggling. A dark glow had begin to hang around him.

The glow, a swirling darkness with rainbow patches, like oil on water, had not escaped Annie's notice. “You should see someone about that. You're leaking.” She commented, inherently understanding that the glow was his power seeping from him with his efforts. “Let me help you.” She raised both hands, palms up and held them out in front of her. For an interminable moment, nothing happened.

Then, as Mitchell watched through the storm of random cutlery which now filled the room, Annie gained a triumphant expression and began drawing that dark light upwards. The further the light was from Michael, the weaker he seemed. With a smile, Annie spread her arms. Everything currently airborne fell to the ground with a deafening clatter and the dark light seeped into the walls of the house. The walls themselves shuddered violently and Mitchell covered his head, certain that the entire building was going to fall. Dust fell from the ceiling.

A low groan came from Michael as the last of the dark light snapped loose and entered the House. He fell to his knees among the wreckage and sank his head to the floor. The black corridor winked out of existence as Annie clenched her fists and lowered her arms. The house stopped shaking and stilled with another flurry of dust from above and something which sounding unnervingly like a sigh. A long, wide crack had spread across the plaster on the ceiling.

Annie watched Michael as he began to sob on the floor. In the orange luminescence from the streetlight and the cold, white light of the bright, full moon, the only remaining illumination in the room, she could see that he was once more clad in the smart black suit and jacket he had been wearing when he arrived here tonight. She approached him, speaking softly and with no malice. “You wanted Truth, Michael. This is the Truth of it. I do not want to join you. I've got my life here, with my friends. I am content as I am and you and your Judges will just have to do without me.”

Michael looked up at her as she stopped, standing over him. His face was normal again, very human and very afraid. “What have you done?” He asked tremulously.

“I did exactly as I wanted. With my own free will.”

“Where... where is the corridor? I have to get back. I have to...” He looked around, slightly panicky, which was so unlike him.

“Its gone. It's closed.” Annie crouched in front of him, beginning to feel a little sorry for him despite what he tried to do.

Michael repeated the word of greatest importance dully. “Gone.” He turned around again, to be sure the corridor really was gone. “But I will miss my deadline.”

“What deadline?” Mitchell asked, finally standing up and dusting himself down. His dark hair was peppered with white and he held his hand to his right temple as it oozed a small amount of blood, though that would be healing in a few minutes time.

“I have to be back by midnight. I only got a lunar month – and the power of the full moon is the only thing to grant me passage back.” He sounded desolate. “Only a Judge can open the corridor and I don't have that power anymore.” He indicated the floor where, among all the debris, there was not one trace of the rope of Truth nor the Cudgel of Judgement.

Mitchell and Annie looked at each other in surprise. “So let me get this straight. Whatever I did has... made you not a Judge?” Annie asked.

“I feel different.” He whimpered.

“You are different.” Mitchell replied, staring hard at Michael as Annie helped the former-Judge to his feet. “I'm not getting that sense from you now. Not at all.”

“Its all so noisy.” Michael whined, looking toward the window where the only light was coming from now. Two shadows passed the window, accompanied by laughing voices. “What are they?” Michael asked.

“Humans.” Mitchell informed him.

Michael was confused and curious. “Humans? But they have... life. I can feel that.”

“Thats what they do. And you. I think you're an ordinary ghost now.” Annie told him as gently as she could.

He blinked at her. “So now I... I really am free? Not beholden?”

Mitchell was shaking his head. “I dunno, but it looks likely. The portal closed and you're still here.”

Michael brightened. “So I don't have until midnight? I have longer? To see the world?” There was something of a note of childlike glee about him at the notion.

“You said you were enjoying remembering. So go out there and remember.” Annie urged him, internally agreeing with Mitchell's thought that Michael now didn't give off the sense of being threatening in the slightest.

Michael nodded, crossing the room and opening the front door. The world beyond was still awake and he was overawed by it all. He looked back once. “Thank you.” He said and stepped out into the world he hadn't known existed. He closed the door behind himself and was gone.

“Well, that went well.” Annie said shakily, sitting down on the couch under the window as soon as she could. The enormity of what she'd just done was sinking in and she let out a huge sigh.

Mitchell sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Well, he could have helped clean up before he went.” He murmured, looking around at the devastation which was vaguely reminiscent of George's transformation earlier in the year. Annie let out a laugh and rested her head against Mitchells shoulder as he hugged her to him.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Twenty-Three

Glass tinkled as Annie swept up the last of the broken jam jars and plates. The smaller pieces of sticky glass glued themselves to the bristles of the brush and she had to clear them by hand time and again. She pulled a face as she swept the shards up into a dustpan and emptied them into a double-thick bin liner. The thick red preserve looked disgustingly like blood. Mitchell, meanwhile, was still in mourning for the TV which took a fatal blow from a flying saucepan during the melee and had concentrated on tidying upstairs before moving to the kitchen.

Over four and a half hours of tidying up between them had left the lower part of the house in more of a state of normality. The floor was clear, now, and the unbroken objects were stacked in readiness for being put back in their proper positions. However, looking at the four double-lined bag of destroyed belongings, the three of them would have to start again from scratch building up their little homely touches. Annie shook her head and looked over at Mitchell who was just standing the coat rack back up on its three legs after shoring up the broken leg of the sideboard.

“Looks like there's a trip to Ikea on the cards.” He lamented bitterly. “I don't suppose you and George want to do that?” He asked hopefully as he headed into the kitchen to make a well-deserved cup of coffee.

Annie laughed. “What's this thing you have against Ikea?” She asked as she tied the top of the rubbish bag she had just filled and carried it over to the pile of other bags near the door. She peeked through the peephole into the kitchen and leaned on the shelf.

Mitchell shrugged. “Its just a really weird place.” Annie leaned back, folded her arms and regarded him sternly. “Well, that and it attracts vampires.” He admitted sheepishly as he dropped a sthingyful of instant coffee into one of the only remaining cups.

“It does?” Annie looked surprised.

“Its a perfect environment. No sunlight, there's no real way of knowing for sure the passage of time 'cause there's no windows or anything. Did you know Ikea was founded by vampires? Its an easy way to track humans in what they consider a safe environment. Plus, they come willingly.”

Annie considered this. “I never thought of that before.” She picked up the sweeping brush again and brought it into the kitchen, putting it in the nook near the back door. “So you want to stay away from the temptation?”

“Basically yeah.” Mitchell turned, his hands behind him as he leaned on the counter to watch her. The kettle, thank goodness, was barely damaged and now hissed loudly behind him as it began to boil. “That and its just weird.”

“Fair enough. I'll draft George in tomorrow for a trip to Ikea. He's going to be really put out by all this, you know.” Annie commented, changing the subject.

“Maybe we could get plastic plates and cups this time?” Mitchell joked. “Less sweeping up after our little mishaps and less for him to get his fur in a knot about.”

“I don't plan on making a habit of this, you know.” Annie laughed at the notion as she went back into the living room. She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. Mitchell was buried in making his coffee so she turned and straightened herself. She raised a hand and flicked it. The couch slid into the centre of the room from under the window at her whim. She clapped her hands quietly in front of her, delightedly. She hadn't even had to put much effort in though Mitchell had gently warned her to be careful not to drain herself of too much energy or she might lose solidity. She frowned. There were some things that had amassed underneath the couch and among them, a torn, brown paper parcel. Annie vaguely remembered it being on the now-shattered table by the door earlier in the day when she'd been setting out a few mugs of drinks on there. She picked it up and peeked inside the wrapping. She raised an eyebrow.

“Mitchell? Is this yours?” She asked.

Mitchell came into the living room with his drink and stopped in his tracks upon seeing the parcel. He swore viciously under his breath and Annie looked stunned. With an urgent glance at his watch he put the cup on the newly-repaired sideboard and took the parcel from her. “Sh*t, I should have delivered this by 9.” Right now, he was really regretting leaving the car at the hospital and walking home last night. “I'm going to go and see if they're still open.” It was gone 1am and he had to hope that he could still get to the pub and make the exchange. Without another word, he rooted out his leather jacket and headed off out of the door.

Annie was left once more standing alone. She frowned, looked around the house before giving herself a determined nod. She locked up and followed along.

*****

“Annie, you can't come with me.” Mitchell pleaded, keeping on walking as fast as he could. Annie was keeping pace without trying.

“Tough. No more secrets, remember?”

“But if they see you...” He worried as they passed Victoria Park, nearing the railway bridge which was eerily underlit at this time of night.

“They won't see me. But I want to be near enough to help if there's trouble. No arguments.” Annie warned him. Mitchell nodded, actively ignoring the dregs of human life around them for the time being. However, a young couple engaged in a bout of quite aggressive kissing just inside the park were hard to ignore. Annie, meanwhile, linked her arm in his and gave him a small squeeze. He hitched the paper parcel up under his other arm and gave her a tight half-smile. She returned it despite being a little unnerved by the darkness of the railway bridge as they passed beneath. Of course, the moment she felt threatened, she mentally kicked herself. She was dead. There wasn;t much an attacker could do to harm her.

“This is to do with this promise you made, isn't it?” She asked conversationally after they had walked in silence for a while. They were passing a still brightly lit petrol station, still open for business despite a distinct lack of trade at almost 20 to 2 in the morning.

“Yes.” Mitchell admitted grudgingly. Annie didn't press the matter but he could tell she was a little more tense. “Look, when we get there, wait around the corner. Please?” He instructed quietly, leaning close as if to a lover. Annie nodded, enjoying the tingle of closeness despite his words. They remained huddled close until, almost half an hour later, they came out of the underpass, the pedestrian subway underneath the busy intersection, close to the pub. Mitchell almost reluctantly disengaged himself from her. “Wait here, okay? I'll be five minutes.” He said before heading under an archway.

Annie stayed put but couldn't resist peeking around the corner at the pale blue building. She watched nervously as Mitchell disappeared from sight. Pulling her cardigan around herself, Annie bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, turning around in a slow circle to look at the area. The archway through which Mitchell had gone was actually supporting several floors of a building which sprawled the to west and east and simply rose over the roadway. What the building actually was, housing, offices or what have you, she had no idea. Across the street was the sunken intersection of all the pedestrian underpasses, lit at present simultaneously but the orange glow of streetlights and the white, pure light of the moon hanging high above. Annie's thoughts turned briefly to George and Nina and how they were getting along tonight. They were more than halfway through the night of the wolf. She didn't know when sunrise was, or even if it was sunrise that prompted the change back, but they had only a few more hours before they returned to normal.

Hands descended on her shoulders and she cried out involuntarily. She turned to find Mitchell right there in front of her. “I'm sorry. I thought you heard me coming.” He still had the parcel in his grasp.

“What happened?” She asked.

“Its well after 2, its all closed up and no-one's answering.” He sounded resigned but Annie had known him long enough to pick up on the underlying edge of tension.

“Well, after we've collected the lovebirds in the morning, we can come back and sort this all out. I'm sure they'll understand it wasn't your fault.” Actually, Annie was feeling a little guilty at having caused Mitchell to forget about this.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds like a plan.” Mitchell agreed. “Well, how about you and me going to the hospital? Its probably about 15 minutes from here by bus. We can check on the hounds and then maybe have a sit in the canteen until they wake up.”

“Or we can walk. Its a nice night and not that cold. Is it?” Annie asked. Mitchell grinned and confirmed that it wasn't too cold to walk at all. “Then it sounds like a plan.” Annie replied, glancing at the moon again. After seeing the transformation in George, she always felt a pang of sympathy when she looked at the bright, glowing moon of an evening. “I hope it all went well for them.” She added as they began hunting around for the night bus as they walked, Annie cuddling up to Mitchell's arm again. Mitchell sighed and released his arm, putting it about her shoulders as they walked.

“You okay?”

“It probably nothing.”

“What?” Annie had to ask again, more insistently. Mitchell, in the spirit of their new truce of keeping no secrets, told her everything that happened outside the Isolation Room as they walked.

*****

As it turned out, their slow and, despite the conversation point, somewhat romantic walk in the cool night was the calm before the storm. They stopped on Guinea Street, greeted by a show of blue flashing lights around the entrance. For a hospital, this shouldn't be such an unusual occurrence, it had to be said, but when he saw several ambulances stood parked on the street with police standing guard over the gates, Mitchell got a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. As the two of them drew closer, Annie holding Mitchell's hand, a uniformed officer intercepted them.

“I'm sorry. You'll have to stand back.” The young officer told them with a distinct lack of authority. Mitchell recognised him as one of the men who interviewed Nina a couple of nights ago.

“What's going on?” Mitchell asked reasonably, not moving.

The officer tried another approach. “Please sir, move away. Its for your own safety and that of the young lady.”

Annie clutched Mitchell's hand tighter. She too had recalled seeing the young policeman before. “Please, is it something bad? We have two friends who work in there.”

“You met one of them a couple of nights ago, the nurse who was mugged?” Mitchell added, seeing immediately where Annie was going with this. As he spotted an excessively bloodied patient being wheeled out on a gurney into one of the waiting ambulances, he didn't have to fake being worried. He was desperately hoping this was about some mental with a knife but something told him it wasn't.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what's happened in there. I'm just, um, crowd control.” He looked around to see where his fellow officer was and leaned over in a conspirators whisper, “But if you're worried about your friends, they've been moving patients to St Michael's.” He nodded. “But I hope they're alright. I didn't meet her boyfriend but Miss Hobbs seemed really nice.” He said with sincere concern.

Annie touched his arm. “Thankyou.” She pulled on Mitchell's arm and they moved away.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Twenty-Four

Annie pulled Mitchell back down the road away before releasing his arm and facing him. “Did... did you see that?” She asked in a hushed voice. Mystified, Mitchell shook his head. “That man? The man in the car park?”

Again, Mitchell shook his head. “What did he look like? Was he dead, a ghost, do you think?”

It was Annie's turn to shake her head. “No, I don't think he was. I don't know. But he looked...” She waved her hands vaguely, trying to bring the elusive word to mind. “He didn't look scared like everyone else. He almost looked smug. Then he went. Back inside. He had Animal Controller printed on the back of his overalls” Clearly that put paid to Mitchell's vain hope that this was some crazy person running amok.

“Come on.” He said, turning away and walking down the road briskly. Annie had been looking back toward the entrance as the ambulance set its sirens off and drove off up over the rise of the hill. She looked around to see Mitchell several feet away. She ran after him, suddenly not wanting to be alone. He disappeared around the corner and passed the parked cars belonging to the hospital staff. They hurried past several ornate stone archways, some housing arched wooden doors. Mitchell came to the last of these, the one with mismatched paintwork, and leaned against the small door within a door. It didn't give at first, but Mitchell put a little more into his second attempt and the door opened inward with a squeal of protest. The noise was thankfully covered by the retreating sirens of yet another ambulance. Mitchell stepped inside quickly and Annie joined him with a furtive glance up and down the street.

Inside the hospital storage area was gloomy after Mitchell shut the door, though it hadn't exactly been Brighton promenade beforehand. Annie looked around as best she could but she could only see the vague shadows of ironwork leaning against the walls and towering stacks of boxes. Mitchell, however, seemed to have no problem with the lack of light. He took her hand in his and led the way through all the narrow walkways between the boxes. “What is all this stuff?” Annie asked.

Mitchell shushed her as he navigated the darkness with ease. He stopped and began listening hard. Annie obligingly fell silent. There was a harsh light shining through another arched opening up ahead. This was the part of the oldest section of the hospital, somewhere underneath the accident and emergency ward and enclosing the isolation room. She recognised the area now. The staircase to the main body of the hospital was away to the left and ahead was a raft of cluttered old corridors leading down to the right and the open space in front of the isolation room.

They began creeping into the light toward the isolation room, Annie clutching at the hem of Mitchell's leather jacket. From high above them, the sound of shuffling feet filtered down. Mitchell slowed to a crawl as they got the the opening for the isolation room and Annie watched him take a deep, steadying breath before peering around the doorless jamb. Annie saw the vampire's shoulders sag and heard him whisper “Jesus.” with his outward breath.

Still wary, Mitchell entered the isolation area. The door near the corner of the room was three quarters closed, hiding the inside of the room from view, but the clutter that was usually amassed nearby strewn across the floor and covered in claw marks and saliva. Still following behind, Annie flinched as her foot sent a small box skittering away over the dusty floor noisily. She pulled an apologetic face as Mitchell looked around sharply. However, he wasn't admonishing her, he was looking beyond for signs of movement. They both froze as a soft scraping sound echoed. It was a way ahead of them, off down toward the other end of the corridor. Had the noise alerted two ravenous werewolves to their presence?

The sound was repeated again, a shuffling accompanying the scrape. Mitchell frowned. It seemed muted and a long way away. Annie crept around him as he stared, waiting for another sound to pinpoint more exactly the potential danger. She was careful to watch her step this time, but couldn't prevent an involuntary gasp as she saw the interior of the isolation room. Mitchell was at her side instantly. “So much blood.” She whimpered, putting a hand over her mouth upon receiving a warning glance. First checking to see if the exclamation had given them away, Mitchell, gingerly pulled on the door, opening it to about half way. The floor was soaked with blood, but his keen nose for the nuances told him it was mainly chicken blood. There was only the slightest tang of lyco blood in the air, and he already spotted the smear of blood down the inside of the door.

“Its okay.” He whispered, barely audible. “George spread that around to try to sate his... the killing urge.” He couldn't quite bring himself to equate a strong need to kill with his friend, though he knew it to be a trait of all werewolves. He touched the still tacky blood on the door and sniffed at it. An irrational anger rose which he quelled quickly. This scent was what made vampires want to attack and kill lycos when they discovered them. This smear of blood from the pure animal side was potent. Mitchell's eyes grew black and dead as he felt a need for violence. He might have to utilise this compulsion, he realised, since Nina and George were on the loose and would not have any qualms about tearing him apart. That thought strangely drove his blood lust into abeyance.

He moved inside the room, stepping carefully around the blood and found part of a chicken carcass that, oddly, hadn't been eaten. As he returned ot the door, Annie was stooping by the opening. She stood up holding a long, blood-stained claw. It measured around an inch long and looked to have been torn out by the root. Mitchell stared as Annie examined it with an expression which was half disgust, half worry before he reached up and ran his fingers down the fresh claw marks surrounding the bloodied one. They all lined up perfectly with the handle that locked the door. Annie gave the claw to Mitchell. She'd seen what he was doing and thought she understood what he was thinking. “They let themselves out?” She asked in a low whisper. Mitchell nodded, slipping the blunted and cracked claw into his pocket.

Emboldened by the fact they'd not been attacked yet, Mitchell and Annie abandoned the isolation room and headed toward where they'd heard the noises. Mitchell noted there was an occasional drop of blood here and there, probably from whichever werewolf had lost the claw. As they reached an intersection of corridors, there was more blood. Annie pointed out claw marks on the skirting boards at the base of the walls and Mitchell noticed a small amount of pooled blood nearby that looked to have a groove mark running through it. The injured lyco had stopped here and perhaps one or the other had lapped at the blood? Then why did it look like a finger mark?

A low growl, from a distance away, stopped all speculation. The werewolf, wherever it was, sounded extremely vicious. The growl became a half snarl. It was accompanied by a hard metallic thud which echoed like a gunshot around the silent basement. Every instinct was telling Mitchell to run but he felt a large measure of guilt. Had he listened to George's concerns, let him take the car to the woods and change there, this might not have happened. He should have backed his friend's instincts and helped convince Nina she was better off alone. No, he couldn't run. He had to make this right. But that didn't mean he had to endanger Annie too. He was about to turn and tell her so when she moved past him and began leading the way. It was almost like she was read his mind and was having none of it.

She was some way ahead and peeked around another corner. Ahead were a set of double doors and stairs, to her right, just a narrow set of stairs leading to the floor above. There were blood drops at the bottom of the steps but Mitchell pointed out a few tufts of light brown fur caught in the rough wood between the swing doors. Maybe that meant the werewolves had separated. “What do we do?” Annie murmured.

Mitchell considered a moment. “We know at least one went this way, toward the populated floors. If the other stayed down here, we'll come back later.” When they had the other one safely trapped though God only knew how they were meant to round either of them up in the first place. Mitchell wriggled the chicken in his hand, feeling that such a small fragment of poultry wasn't going to help too much. As he did that, he noticed the time on his watch. It was well after 2:45am, though it hadn't seemed that they'd been down there for so long. There were only a couple more hours before sunrise.

“What do we if and when we do find them?” Annie asked softly as they crept up the stairs, as if reading his earlier thoughts. Mitchell was beginning to wonder if that really was the case, actually. He shrugged, honestly not thinking that far ahead. It was more likely the werewolves would find them first, the amount of noise they were both making.

Upstairs, they looked left and right. There was no clue as to which way they should turn so they decided to investigate in opposite directions, but agreed to keep a line of sight to each other along the long corridor. Mitchell hunted to the right, Annie to the left, each glancing back often. Mitchell crouched down suddenly, touching something on the floor. A small, white feathered dart from a modern tranquilliser gun. He picked it up and held it to the light. The narrow barrel of the dart was clear and contained a small quantity of a silver liquid. It flowed slowly from one end to the other as he tipped it back and forth. He frowned and bent the needle end over on itself before putting it in his pocket. He didn't want to accidentally stab himself with it without knowing what it contained.

“Mitchell!” Annie yelled anxiously. He stood and turned on the spot, Annie was out of sight. He ran toward her voice, terrified of already being too late. He rounded a sharp corner into a far wider and more used corridor. He found Annie standing with her back pressed to the wall, staring with wide eyes at a door. Part of the glass window set into it was shattered though the majority was held in place by wire mesh. Beyond were a savage, snapping set of fangs. The mesh was straining outwards alarmingly. The werewolf trapped in the room snuffled and backed off.

Annie was frozen to the spot even as Mitchell sidled over and reached for her arm. She took his hand a microsecond before the werewolf launched another attack on the inward-opening door. Obviously, it had gone inside and lacked the skill to get back out. Or at least, had. The mesh held under the impact but the door, abused already, groaned under the assault. The hinges screamed as a second powerful body blow ripped half the screws from the frame. The werewolf roared, sensing impending freedom. Mitchell and Annie simultaneously decided it was a wise idea to move.

They bolted away through some more sets of double doors and straight into a dead end used for the storage of hinged laundry carts and cages. A shriek of ripping metal from behind carried, announced that the trapped creature was now loose – and the snarl indicated he or she was heading their way. Mitchell looked frantically around and as the double doors flew open, his eyes lighted on something that might help. “Annie. See where this goes!” He pointed to a large, wide laundry chute used for tipping the large green carts of blankets and towels into. The werewolf pricked up its ears and snarled as it turned. “I think its the laundry room so go down and lock the door from the inside. I'll try to get the wolf to go down it.”

“What?!” Annie was incredulous. Was Mitchell suicidal? Did he realise how bloody stupid that idea was? In response he raised the chicken he was still holding and nodded.

“Go.” He hissed. Annie obeyed as the lyco progressed. It paused, sniffing warily. The sudden disappearance of half of its prey was puzzling. It stretched up to its full height, the tips of its ears nearly touching the lights as the claws, all in tact Mitchell observed, stretched. There was no doubt, either, as to the creatures gender now, considering the things he'd seen last evening. The shadow spread toward him as Mitchell already doubted the wisdom of his idea, but to quote an old phrase, “beggars can't be choosers”. He decided to try to talk. “Now then. Nina, I know this is all new to you. But you don't have to do this.” He was backing away slowly as he spoke in as low and soothing a voice. He was reaching behind him and touched the edge of one of the carts. That would do.

The werewolf let out a low grumble, not quite a growl but not sounding exactly friendly either. “Nina.” He knew it was idiotic to expect her to have any semblance of understanding. When the wolf was in residence, the person inside was gone. But the wolf seemed curious all the same, sniffing the air, cautious and careful. Maybe it was her newness. She didn't know yet that prey usually ran or squealed, not talked calmly. “Good girl. You don't want to hurt me. I'm a friend.” He said, dropping the chicken into the cart. The dull, plasticky thump got Nina's attention and she growled unevenly. She dropped into the usual hunched stance that seemed more comfortable for her species, and tilted her head. Amber eyes fixed on him and under such direct scrutiny, Mitchell couldn't remember being quite so afraid before. He remembered the defiance Herrick has offered, right at the end. He had to admire the man his guts... before they were spread all over the floor by George's claws and teeth.

Just as the moment was settling and Mitchell was thinking that maybe she wouldn't attack, Annie popped into existence right next to the hatch, between the two supernaturals. “Annie! Look out!” Mitchell screamed ad Nina, startled by her sudden reappearance, attacked on pure, savage instinct. Annie instantly disappeared as fangs snapped together, biting the air where she had been. The forward momentum drove her head first into the hatch and Mitchell, wasting no time, gave her a hard push on the haunches. The Nina-wolf disappeared down the laundry chute, landing with an audible thump as she crashed through the hatch at the other end. There was a cacophany of growls, snarls and roars as she presumably righted herself.

“Annie!” Mitchell shouted, not sure if a werewolf could harm a ghost but desperately afraid of having to find out.

A low, inarticulate sound from beside him drew his attention. He let the hatch close and gathered the badly frightened girl in his arms. “Are you okay?!” Annie nodded tearfully against his shoulder as he held her. “Christ, you scared me there. Shh, come on. Its okay. Its alright, we've got her trapped now. You're safe.”

“It nearly, nearly, bit me.” Annie sobbed, the stress of this on top of the mess with Michael just overloading her for a moment. But, bless her, she was already getting herself together again. She pushed away from him slightly. “S-she? How do you k-know thats Ni-Ni-Nina?”

If he'd been alive, his cheeks would have been burning right now. “I got to see the... difference when they got it together earlier.”

“Oh...” She sounded surprised. “Ohh.” This was a more shocked or disgusted reaction as she thought about what he was saying. “Thats a little more... information than you needed eh?”

“You have no idea.” Mitchell conceded, rubbing Annie's arms. “Hey, why don't you go and keep an eye on Nina. She's going to need someone when she wakes up.”

“What about you?” Annie asked quietly.

“I have to go and find George. We can't let those animal controllers find him.”

Annie nodded at Mitchell's words. She understood what he was worried about. “Let me help.” She said, wiping her eyes and squaring her shoulders.

“No. I don't want you in danger.”

“What about you?!” Annie retorted, a little taken aback. “I don't want you in danger.”

“I'll be okay. I won't take any chances.” He could see Annie wasn't convinced. “I promise.” He touched his fingers to her cheek. “I promise.” He repeated for emphasis.

“You better be careful or I'll kill you myself.” She replied harshly then vanished, not hiding the standing tears in her eyes quite quickly enough. Clearly she knew the level of the danger they were facing. Once again Mitchell felt a pang of guilt at the whole situation, though he knew, rationally, he wouldn't have been able to do anything even if he had been here.

Retrieving the chicken from the trolley, strangely feeling like it was some kind of talisman, Mitchell back tracked downstairs and followed the second trail where the fur was left on the doors.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Twenty-Five

Annie paced outside the door. She couldn't help but fret as Nina was causing all kinds of havoc inside the laundry room. Was the door strong enough? Did the fall hurt her? Foremost in her mind, though, was worrying if Mitchell was alright. She prayed he wouldn't find George before the sun came up, for both their sakes.

Something big and metal rattled violently and thumped against the door solidly, making Annie jump. “Yeah, I know.” She said as the room went quiet aside from deep, loud breathing. “Men can be idiots, can't they? Its no wonder we girls get all tetchy at our time of the month, eh?” Annie was almost sure she heard a growl of agreement before Nina resumed destroying the contents of the room with gusto.

*****

Mitchell plucked the fur from the door, dropped it on the floor and headed up the stairs. He already knew where this staircase led – it was the back way out of Accident and Emergency. All the cleaners and porters and general, faceless workers knew the upper half of it because it was a short cut to the cleaning supplies cupboard, handily adjacent to A&E where the majority of the harsh clean ups were usually required.

However, Mitchell was on a mission and finding it difficult to concentrate. As he opened the swing doors at the bottom of the stairs, he smelt it. Strong, metallic... delicious. The further he advanced, the stronger the smell of freshly spilt blood, leaving him to pause on the steps. He had, at one time, been proud of resisting the temptation when a small cut was placed before him. Now, he knew, his willpower alone would not be enough. The thick, bitter libation was relentless, overwhelming his senses. He was finding it hard to keep his mind on the task at hand, namely werewolf hunting, with an indescribably strong wave of hunger tearing away at his insides. His eyes blackened in response but he knew he had to fight his needs or else it could well be his best friend tearing away at his insides. He suppressed his urge with an effort, though still fully aware of his sangine cravings.

“Okay. Here we go.” He encouraged himself. At the top of the second flight of stairs, Mitchell turned automatically toward A&E, where the smell was strongest. He opened the the door cautiously and peered through into the corridor behind the receptionists desk. Nothing moved, not a breath stirred but lyco musk hung in the air. With careful steps. Mitchell moved in behind the reception desk and looked into the waiting room. There were no bodies or blood in evidence but the entrance doors were wide open. Mitchell could see flashing blue lights outside. “Jesus, if he got out there...” He whispered to himself, though he thought there'd be far more panic outside if George had already managed to get out.

A savage growl came to his ears, accompanied by a wet ripping noise from somewhere further along this level. This confirmed his sincere hope that the werewolf was still in the building. Mitchell rapidly crossed around the desk and closed the doors. With chicken in hand he set off to find his friend. There was little to go on so he moved off in the direction he last heard a noise. This, too, was where the blood scented strongest so it was a fair indication he was heading to the right place. The piece of chicken Mitchell had been carrying was useless now so he discarded it in one of the consultation rooms. His hands were shaking as he came closer. Ahead, a leg clad in black pants was sticking out from one of the treatment cubicles. As he drew level, despite the curtain being drawn, it was shredded enough to reveal blood and entrails scattered on the floor. The sight of a pure werewolf kill was fascinating, causing Mitchell, heedless of the danger, to pull back the curtain for a better look. Though naturally with none of the finesse of a vampire kill, Mitchell was certain of one thing. It had been quick. The man's throat was pretty much gone, the chest and stomach united as one large bloodied hole, clearly relieved of the softer organs. That kind of damage to human tissue would have taken mere seconds.

Carefully, he left the dead man and looked around slowly, taking in the details. Paperwork was littering the floor where, it seemed, one of the doctors had dropped it during the attack. A water cooler was upturned, lying still on its side and leaking the clear liquid everywhere. The portable monitoring equipment canted, half in and half out of the washroom, though Mitchell didn't allow his gaze to linger as there was a dead nurse inside, her back lacerated in a half a dozen different directions. The tap was still running. He didn't allow himself to think of the horror of these poor people, only that those who died were the fortunate ones. Those taken to St Michael's, however many there were, now had a curse thrust upon them. This was breaking his heart, but he had to find his friend.

Further ahead, he spied a hand, slick with still liquid blood, hung over the side of a gurney which had collapsed at one end only. There was no head but it was clear the middle-aged female had been eviscerated. A quick parting of the slivers of remaining clothing revealed three claw marks only with an unshredded line where the fourth claw was missing. Blood coated both hands as he released the woman's clothing and he absently put his index finger into his mouth, relishing the taste even before he realised what he was doing. “I'm sorry.” He murmured – maybe to the woman, maybe himself or to his friends - before wiping the rest of the blood off onto his shirt. There were perhaps half a dozen bodies in total as he reached the end of the treatment area. How the hell could they break this to George in the morning?

His lament was broken as a shout came up, a very human and very angry shout. All of a sudden, a huge mass of dark fur and luminous yellow eyes charged right at him. The werewolf was running on four paws at full pelt, despite his body shape being naturally bipedal. Mitchell froze and was a hairs breadth from George as he shot past, so close that hot spittle hit the side of his face and the great haunches bumped him. In his shock, Mitchell fell over, slipping on the spilled blood, and the back of his head hit the edge of the semi-collapsed bed. Tiny patches of light exploded in front of his eyes but he was sure he saw people rushing past. He certainly heard loud voices but those had passed and receded before his vision cleared. Humans hunting him and he had to stop them. Struggling to his feet, Mitchell felt a bit woozy and had to grip the metal handle on the side of the fallen bed.

“Another one!” A voice called. It was an youngish voice, female. Mitchell caught a glimpse of a logo on the breast of the flak jacket as the young woman swooped in and gripped him under his arm. Metropolitan Police – Animal Control. “You just take it easy, love. You're gonna be alright. Paul! This is Paul. He's going to take you out so the paramedics can look you over. You'll be okay.” It was with alarm Mitchell looked properly to find that some of them were armed. Annie had said she'd seen animal controllers in the hospital car park but he was certain she'd said they were in overalls.

Mitchell wondered briefly why the man was talking to him in such a slow and soothing manner – that is until he looked down and saw the blood all over his shirt. What...?” It hit him, they thought he was a victim. Actually, come to think of it, he nearly had been. Feigning fear and relief, which seemed to please the man, Paul, who grasped his arm, Mitchell desperately tried to think of a ruse that would allow him to stay in the building. So usually calm under pressure, nonetheless he could think of no way reason that wouldn't raise suspicions. “Wh-what was that? A dog?” He stammered, leaning heavily on Paul the Police Animal Controller to slow him down.

Taking the comment exactly and planned, Paul replied discreetly, careful not to alarm him. “Yeah, a very... big dog. We're going to go out this way. We'll get it, sir, you don't need to worry about that.” Paul led him away – Mitchell knew he'd just have to get away as soon as he could and sneak back into the side door. Paul led him past another pair of animal controllers who, in their brownish-grey overalls looked strangely unprepared. Just as they had caught his attention, they both looked up and in turn watched him curiously as he passed. And why did they need so many animal controllers? Maybe it was their policy these days but that just didn't seem right.

As Paul handed him over to the waiting paramedics, again with the reassurances that he'd be safe now, Mitchell heard the police animal handler mutter something about “Bloody freelancers.” the medic was a kind, big man who looked him over carefully and determined he was probably in shock. Before he could protest that he was fine, they had him bundled into a blanket and were feeding him hot sweet tea while keeping him under constant observation. There was no way he was getting away anytime soon.

*****

Annie, now bored and worried in equal measure, remained where she was. Last time she'd gone to find Mitchell, she'd almost caused more problems than she solved. No, Mitchell had asked her to stay put, so here she'd stay to take care of Nina. But it wouldn't stop her worrying, hoping Mitchell was okay in his hunt for the . She was hoping George was, too, of course, though apparently not a lot was able to harm him in wolf form. Except maybe those animal controllers - a sobering thought.

The angry growling and snarling from behind the door died down a little after an hour and a half though they resumed as Annie decided to press her ear to the door. She could hear the cracking of bones and the wolf's pained snarls, growls and yelps. She pressed her lips together, hating hearing this since she knew what was happening. At least it meant the danger was nearly past. “Where are you, Mitchell?” Annie asked the air around her.

*****

As it stood, Mitchell was well away from danger. After two cups of hot sweet tea, which reminded him of home, and an ice pack on the back of the head, the medic was still worried by the low body temperature and was making arrangements for him to be transferred to St Michael's for further treatment. This confused Mitchell a little since he was sitting right beside an ambulance at the time. When he asked, he was told this vehicle had just been reserved for a new casualty.

*****

The sounds from beyond the door gradually become distinctly more human, and now all was silent as Nina became her usual human self. If she was the same as George, she'd be asleep for a couple of hours at least. Annie had materialised inside the room to find chaos. Not a cage had been left unbattered by her rage. And what looked to be a huge old twin-tub washing machine was dented and quite severely marked by her claws but remained unmoved in the centre of the room.

Annie was somewhat nervous as she hunted through the wreckage – what of she'd got her timing wrong and that hadn't been the sounds of Nina's transformation back. She was, of course, being completely irrational. She knew what she'd heard but she couldn't help her imagination running away with her. She really only relaxed when she saw a very naked and very human foot poking out from behind the washing machine.

Rooting through the wreckage, she pulled out a blanket that looked fairly clean. She approached the naked woman. One of Nina's arms stretched out in front of her, her head resting on the bicep. The claw marks on her forearm were plainly visible against the pale skin. Her other arm was draped over her chest and her legs curled up toward her body in a loose kind of foetal position. She was breathing slowly and steadily. Annie began to dress her when she noticed the burns on the Nina's stomach. The skin was tight and shiny, it was old scar tissue. If the transformation healed all wounds as George had said, why were they still there? Deciding that was a question for when they were all safely back home, she draped the blanket over Nina.

Until she awoke, there wasn't much to do but try to clear the way out. She began to slide the cages and debris away from the door using subtle little pushes of her new-found telekinesis.

*****

Mitchell watched as a new body, wrapped almost completely head to foot in a baby blue hospital blanket and strapped to the gurney, was wheeled out of the doors. Their face was obscured by the body of a medic but the vampire caught a glimpse of tufty, short brown hair as they passed. From his vantage point however, sitting on the kerb with a third hot drink completely untouched in his hands, he saw the fingers of one hand sticking out from beneath the blankets and they twitched twice, almost convulsively. The casualty was alive. He could smell werewolf strongly on this person – not unusual for the victim of a savage attack, he supposed, though he hadn't had much experience with living werewolves up until meeting George. But before he could figure anything more out, the survivor was loaded into the rear of the ambulance.

The large paramedic closed the doors tightly and watched it pulled away with its blues and twos ablaze and disappeared into the early morning gloom. He turned to tend to his patient only to find a blanket on the floor and a steaming cup of tea on the pavement. He looked around frantically to no avail, then sighed and picked up the beverage. It had been a long, long shift and he wasn't due to finish for two hours yet. “Waste not want not.” He mumbled, taking a swig of tea.

*****

Mitchell slunk from car to car, down the road, until he reached the corner and could walk freely to the side entrance again. He did feel bad about deserting the paramedic who was trying to help him, but “needs must when the devil drives”, as his old commanding officer used to say. He hurried along and went directly to the isolation room. He rooted through the disturbed but, surprisingly, mostly undamaged clothing on the floor. Mitchell found George's jacket and withdrew the car keys. Stuffing them into his own pocket, he had a thought and moved outside. Rooting through the rubble, he found the two bags George and Nina had left outside. He opened the blue sports bag – a clean shirt and pair of jeans were ironed and folded neatly as were a scuffed pair of trainers, a pack of baby wipes and his wallet containing his spare hospital identity badge and around £10. Also, there was a battered tupperware tub containing a hand of bananas, an apple, an orange, several dried meat snacks in foil wrappers and half a pack of biscuits. Was George planning a picnic after this or something?

Retreiving all the clothes from the isolation room, he closed the door and stuffed them into George's bag before zipping it up tight.

Mitchell slid Nina's backpack from his shoulder and left it on the floor outside the laundry room as he passed, making his way, once more, back toward A&E. He did pause and listen for movement inside. He heard Annie muttering to herself. He knew she wasn't silly enough to go in with Nina in wolf form so she had to have changed back so he had to assume that the moon's influence was well and truly over. Which meant George would be naked, asleep and vulnerable somewhere in the hospital. He knocked on the door then headed right for the back entrance to accident and emergency. If he stayed and waited, Annie would want to come with him and he really didn't want that to happen.

He turned right as he emerged from the stairwell, the way he guessed George must have headed. In one of the treatment wards around the back, there were signs of a struggle and in an open patch of floor near an overturned chair, another of those feathered darts. This one, though, was empty. Mitchell was intrigued and uneasy, but far more than that, scared for George's safety. He searched for a further half an hour but succeeded only in finding a side door into the car park swinging open. It was on a part of the square arrangement of corridors not far from the area where all those people had died.

He returned to the laundry room dejected. He tried the door and it opened easily. Nina was dressed in the clothes he'd left behind and she was, at present, sitting on the floor, leaning sleepily against the wall. Annie was pacing the floor and practically leapt at him as he entered. “Mitchell!” She threw her arms around him, pressing her cold cheek to his. Mitchell put George's bag on the floor as he hugged her back then they released each other.

Nina was a little more alert, first eyeing the bag on the floor then peering around at the door, standing slowly. Mitchell knew who she was seeking and the hopeful, almost desperate expression she bore was heartbreaking. “I couldn't find him. I'm sorry.” Mitchell told her, told both of them, as gently as he could. He went on to explain the things he found, including the darts, which he proceeded to show them.

Annie was shocked as she turned the empty dart over in her hands. Meanwhile, Nina's chin trembled though Mitchell had to admire her as she gave herself a moment. She didn't speak, instead allowing herself to be led out toward the exit, past the now closed isolation room door, through the storage area and out of the side door. Mitchell asked them to wait, leaving the bag and backpack with them as he went to fetch the car.

He hurried around to the overspill car park at the curve of the road, but as Mitchell got to the car he found, to his annoyance, that he would struggle getting into the driver's side thanks to a battered yellow shed of a car parking too close. He instead had to unlock the passenger side door and sidle over. He sat for a few minutes after his exertions with his hands on the steering wheel. They were shaking quite noticeably. A delayed reaction, he assumed, to the events of the night. He steeled himself with a breath. There was time to react when they got to the house. Besides, after so much tea inside him, he really needed a pee. He started the car and picked up the girls.

Nina and Annie were huddled on the back seat, Nina with the seatbelt drawn around her and Annie's arm about her shoulders. Mitchell saw her forlorn expression in the rear view mirror. “When George gets himself together, he'll find his way home. He always does.” He reassured her.

Nina spoke for the first time in a tremulous but determined voice and asked something neither of them could yet answer. “And if he doesn't? And then what?”

[grotchops]

Pretty good stuff, now I know what you have been doing keep it up.

[Melissa Kane]

Wow, you read all of it, Grotchops?! That was fast.

Heee, thankyou for such kind words! Yep, this has been part of what's been keeping me so busy lately.

I'm currently working on the second part which is entitled "And Then What?" - but I'll share it in five chapter batches, like I have with Aftermath.

'Lissa.

[grotchops]

You are doing wonderfully, I am a bit stuck with my story but I am still working on it

[Melissa Kane]

Is yours VH based? I'd assume so, but its only polite to ask.

What are you stuck with? Maybe I could help? You can PM me if you would like to keep it secret
'Lissa.