Sin of Lycaos

SIN OF LYCAOS

Part Ten: Duty of Man

By D.M.P.

***

¶ And moreover, because the Preacher was wise, he still taught the people knowledge; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs.

The Preacher sought to find out acceptable words: and that which was written was upright, even words of truth.

¶ The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies, which are given from one shepherd.

And further, by these, my son, be admonished: of making many books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the flesh.

¶ Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.

For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.

- Ecclesiastes 12:9-14

***

Chapter 37

The sun was lying low on the horizon as Lupin made his way to the fisherman's abandoned hovel. In his arms Mary was wrapped in a bed sheet. Her eyes were closed, but she was shivering. He held her fiercely to his chest, as if keeping the shadows of death at bay.

Sirius plodded in the sand alongside him. He looked over at his friend with contemplative solitude. In the background, the waves tumbled and roared. The tide was rising, while Lupin felt the first stirrings of the transformation within him. Werewolves had a deep connection with the sea, for both were controlled by the rising and setting of the moon.

Fading sunlight settled upon them like a passing mist. It reflected off the water and bathed the sand golden-red. It outlined them with light, stretching their shadows across the dunes. The light hit the bundle in his arms, revealing Mary's pallid face and limp blonde hair. He glanced down at her. She was like a statue, pale and immobile.

The antibiotics hadn't worked. Lupin had been too hopeful. If he caught the symptoms earlier, they might have had a chance. But the penicillin had failed to lessen the infection or the swelling. Today, a dreaded stench came from the wound, the foreshadowing smell of decay. The gangrene had advanced to its final stages. Mary requested no medicine. She could no longer feel the pain.

Their footsteps were sluggish, their shoes sliding along the frozen sand. A wind blew and Sirius wrapped his robes tighter around him. Lupin plowed through, heedless of his billowing clothing. He could no longer feel the cold.

The sun had to set. The moon had to rise. For once in his life, he was eager for the full moon to come. He was praying for it.

The small shack had changed little since their last stay. The wood was covered with a delicate layer of frost; a loose shutter clapped against the siding with loud smack! smack! sound. Lupin glanced at Sirius; he came to the flapping shutter and with one strong pull, wrenched the loose board off. He dropped the broken piece onto the sand, and followed Lupin inside.

Dark black-red stains stretched over the dank, smelly floor. Her blood. She received the fatal wound here and now it seemed as if they came to finish her off. Three steps into the shack, Lupin fell to his knees. Sirius, concerned, put a hand on his shoulder.

He broke the quiet. "It'll work."

Lupin stared up at him mutely. Sirius, realizing how stupid his words sounded, turned away and settled himself back into a corner. He wasn't going to make himself a nuisance during the transformation.

Lupin was still on his knees, his back to the open door. He could feel Mary's cold breath going in and out, in and out. She hadn't spoken for the last three hours. She was weakening. And even if the moon rose in time, even if the transformation occurred... was she strong enough to survive it? Lupin knew the infection was already going straight to her heart and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

But there was someone who could. Someone who this little girl believed in. But he.... He did believe, once. But was it that long ago? No, only a couple months. What had happened since then? How much had he changed?

In the beginning, he was lost in his own misery. Then she came. What did he think when he first saw her? Lupin closed his eyes. A miracle. He thought she was a miracle.

And many things had happened since then. He had realized that the world wasn't comprised of straight good and evil, black and white. He knew that all along, didn't he, what the world was like? In this world, there can be no set of rules that everyone must obey in order to achieve salvation; there can be no book that dictates what a man should do. There are people in this world who steal from others; there are people in this world who provide for others. The law can be corrupt in its justice. The only honor upheld is "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." The only certainly there can be is the certainty of life itself.

Isn't that right?

The floor was creaking. What was doing that? He looked up at Sirius, only to see his pale face stare back at him, a ghost in the darkness. Then he realized that he was the one moving. Mary was cradled in his arms like a little babe, and he rocked back and forth very gently. He looked down upon her motionless face, then up at the opposite wall. His silhouette was outlined in the dying winter light.

He lowered his head, whispering under his breath.

"Dear.... dear Almighty Lord and Father..." he stopped, then moved on, "I need your help. I - I admit that I am confused. You're not down here; You don't see what I see everyday. I've done many evil things; I admit it. I've seen savagery reflected in the souls of other men. But, Lord, please don't judge me now. I have a dying child in my arms, a child I made in sin.... a child who is like a lamb. I influenced the only wrong she has ever done, and I apologize for that. I... I want her to live." Something wet was sliding down his cheek. This wetness dripped toward the corner of his dry lips; Lupin licked at the salt tears. "That is all I ask of you. I promise to amend my ways if you could only grant her life. Please, Lord... She helped me. She cannot die."

His heart shuddered at such emotion; his brain was going numb; he felt like he was breaking down, like he was dying, like he couldn't understand anything at all now except this prayer.

A tear splashed against the salt-encrusted wood.

"Amen."

A whiplash of pain raced up his spine. He yelled, clutching the child to him. Gasping heavily, he felt the rippling of fur sprouting beneath his skin. He laid Mary off to the side before another spasm shot through him.

"Remus?" Sirius cried, alarmed.

Lupin raised a hand, and suddenly buckled to the floor. His head hit the ground and he jerked, feeling the tail shoot out the end of his vertebrae. The fur was growing - his shoulders becoming massive and hairy - his ears moving along the sides of his head - the muzzle sprouting from his face-

His eye rolled up toward the door. The giant crest of the full moon was seen on the horizon, its rays glowing against the sand. He tried to speak, his voice contorted into a half-human growl.

"Change, Sirius!" were the grumbled words. "Change-!"

A long howl unleashed into the newborn night.

***

Croaker looked down at the city from his place in the sky, patrolling on broomstick. He had been waiting for this moment, the night of the full moon. Not since his days taming dragons with the RMC had he felt this same exhilaration run through him. Out there in the darkness were a werewolf and his pup, capable of mass destruction, even death. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought of fighting them.

On his back, he slung a weapon that had the appearance of a collapsible sniper rifle. But this was no mere Muggle gun. This was taken from the Werewolf Capture Unit of the RMC - a wolfsbane tranquilizer gun. Each syringe-like shot contained raw wolfsbane, the only substance that could subdue the creature.

Tonight would be a hunter's dream safari, a thrilling life-or-death battle. He couldn't wait until he confronted those wolves. Croaker wanted to kill them on his own; he wanted to pack them full of wolfsbane until they dropped dead and flaunt their pelts to Fudge the next day. Maybe he could even use the wolf's head as a trophy to hang on his office wall. Stuffed it and charm it so the head would growl at any unsuspecting passerby. Ohh, that would be an envious prize!

"Oooowwwwwwwwwwwwwllllll!!!"

The werewolf howl again.

Croaker raced toward the earth.

***

There was a set of wooden steps that extended from the street to the beach. Long tufts of grass grew around the area, and were mostly beaten down by the weather. Kevin sat on these steps.

His wife found him there watching the moonrise. Spotting him there, she sat down herself, arms wrapped around her.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hello," he greeted back.

Both stared at the pure glow of the moon. "It's only reflected light from the sun," Janet pointed out gently. "Nothing special about it."

He replied, "Well... on nights like this, when it's so cold and clear, don't you think it can be magical?"

Janet sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but another sound cut her off.

"Oooowwwwwwwwwwwwwllllll!!!"

She stiffened. "What was that?"

Kevin turned his head. "It seems to be coming from down there..." He got up to his feet and descended the steps.

"It's - it's a neighbor's dog!" Janet reasoned. "You know how they bark at night-"

He reached the sand and stopped to listen.

"Oooooowwwwwwwwwwllll!!"

"That's no dog," he said, and followed the howl.

"Kevin!" Janet scrambled to her feet. A spark of fear went through her, though she didn't know why.

"Kevin, stop this werewolf nonsense right this instance!" she shouted angrily, marching through the dunes toward him. "I want you to come with me back inside and forget about all this..! Are you listening to me?" Janet hurried her pace. Her eyes searched through the withering sea grass. "Where are you?"

She made it past the dunes and onto the beach itself. Kevin was standing there, stock-still. She stomped up to him. "Why are you sta-"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh..." Kevin quickly pulled her to him and put a hand over her mouth. "Don't speak."

"Wmf-?"

He pointed ahead of him. She lifted her eyes and froze.

Off in the distance, where the waves lapped against the shore, three low figures splashed about in the water. Despite the freezing temperatures, they moved about with powerful speed and agility. One was large and shaggy, one was huge and clean cut, and the third was a small thing that rolled around in the frothy surf. The thrown water sparkled like glistening gems around them, catching in the adults' dark fur. The little one was like light itself, a playful burst of energy that scurried about on awkward puppy paws.

"They're wolves," she whispered.

For a long time, they watched the trio frolic in the waves. The clean-cut wolf, a large brown-gray hunter, kept going farther and farther out into the sea. It was as if he wanted to live in the ocean, as if he wanted to swim so far and so deep that he became part of the water itself. Strange to think that wolves can connect with the sea.

Watching them at play, careless, joyful, Janet felt something crumble within her. Her husband was right. A bitter lump rose up in her throat as her very soul caved in.

"No..." she moaned grievously. "No...." She put her face in her hands, trembling.

"Dear..?" Kevin held her tighter. He had a calm tranquility about him, as if his questions were finally answered. "Go inside," he coaxed.

Janet sniffed, her vision blurring. She blinked twice, wiping her eyes with a gloved hand. Her tears crystallized on her face. "No, no, no, no, no!" she wept. "It can't - just can't!" All the stifled anguish that she kept locked up in her heart flooded out in a wave of mourning. A strangled sob came from her throat. "No, Kevin, no..."

Her knees went weak and she slipped. Kevin held her by the arms to keep her from falling. Janet, confused and grieving, beat her fists weakly against his chest. "Can't... Oh God..."

"Shhhh..." Kevin lifted her to her feet. "No more," he murmured. "No more..."

Janet got a hold of herself. Turning around to face the wolves again, she felt a rage burn in her breast. Damn them. She could see it all in her mind as vivid flashes. They tore her limb, for limb, didn't they? Her daughter screaming. Blood flying. The wolves tearing at her flesh- "Monsters..!!" she yelled. "Monsters!"

"Janet-" Kevin started, restraining her arms.

She fought his grip, wailing. "Y-you monsters! Animals! You killed my daughter! YOU KILLED HER!!" She kicked sand into the air with her boots, screaming with mourning and fury.

The yelling caught their attention. They froze, ears cocked. The hunter turned his great head and saw them. He stepped out of the water and shook out his thick fur.

The black one sensed what the hunter was going to do and tugged at his tail with his teeth, trying to distract him. The hunter brushed the other one off and gave an authoritative turn of his head. He barked; the little one scurried up to her feet.

Kevin shook his wife by the shoulders. "Control yourself!" he said. "Go back to the house."

"I won't!" she fired back. "They killed her! How can you let them live-!?" She reached down to scoop a small rock from the sand and threw it in their direction.

"Go back," he ordered. "Now."

The hunter stepped forward, a low growl rumbling from the back of his throat. The black one moved in front of him, matching his snarl. Hunter moved and black intercepted. The two crashed together and tumbled on the ground, biting and kicking. The little golden pup watched the two with youth's fascination. The hunter was barking at her- she stumbled back a few steps- he snapped at her, fighting the black one-

The pup stared straight at them and dashed through the sand, barking madly.

"Run!" Kevin pushed her toward the street. The pup closed in on him; he ran ahead; she sprung from the ground, jaws bared; she crashed into his back, knocking him to the ground. Her needle teeth tore into his coat, ripping the clothing until the flesh was exposed-

"Rowf! Rowf!"

A black blur-

The pup was knocked off his back. Kevin looked over his shoulder. He wasn't a wolf, but a dog, a gigantic black dog subduing the pup-

The hunter gave a howl of rage, turning against the dog. He charged in from the surf and jumped him. He beat him to the ground, biting and snapping-

The pup was free. She ran at him again. Kevin grabbed a branch of driftwood that was sticking out of the sand and swung it at her.

Wham!

He caught her in the side of the head; her body flew across the air a few feet before plowing into the sand.

"Rooooaaarrr!" The hunter was overtaking the black dog, pushing out of the way to help his pup.

The hunter gave a vicious swipe of his claws-

The black dog hit the sand, bleeding-

His ally gone, Kevin faced the wolf alone.

"Stay back," he said hesitantly, holding the piece of wood with both hands. The hunter eyed him silently, his fangs bared. The two stood ready to fight.

And it happened so fast. The hunter leapt up into the air - Kevin held the driftwood horizontally across his chest - the wolf landed on top of him- the weight knock the breath out of him-

"Roarrr!"

He was snapping his jaws in his face, held back by only the splintering wood. All Kevin could see were long, yellowed teeth and fierce hazel eyes-

Zzzzzzzziiip! Zzzzzzip! Zzzzzip!

The wolf buckled and collapsed on top of him. Three terrible-looking hypodermic needles stuck out of his back-

A shadowed figure from the sky zoomed through the air, firing from what looked like a rifle.

Zzzzipp! Zzzipp!

More shots. Kevin pushed the wolf off him; he scrambled to his feet, looking up bewilderedly-

"Get out!" yelled the stranger on the broomstick.

Another surprise. "Mr. Hammond?"

The black dog let out a whine, raising its head. He looked up at the flying stranger and jumped to its feet, barking. The hunting wolf fell and the black dog rushed over, pulling the tranquilizer needles out of his side with his teeth.

Which side was this dog on??

Wwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiirrrrrr!!! Wwwwwwwhhhhhhhiiiirrrrrr!!

Sirens. The police.

Up above, the broomstick rider flew away into the sky and completely vanished. Kevin rubbed his eyes. Gone.

The black dog raised his head quickly, then pulled the last needle out of the wolf's back. He barked and went over to the fallen pup. Tucking his head beneath her, he managed to lift her up and slide the pup onto his back.

"Rowf!" He gestured with his head toward the hunter. The wolf shook his head groggily, groaning.

Kevin stared at the wolf, at the black dog, and then at the pup. Something jumpstarted inside of him and instantly, he knew. He knew that pup! It was she! His daughter! He ran over to the drugged beast. The animal couldn't get away!

"No!" he cried, grabbing the hunter by the scruffy fur on the back of his neck. He tried pulling the wolf up - the beast weighed twice as much as him - and fell back. The wolf was foaming at the mouth, groaning sickly, and rolling its eyes. Its spittle dribbled onto his coat. Kevin pulled the beast to him with amazing strength.

"You did it!" Kevin said to the animal's face, nose pressed against muzzle. "You did it!" He tried shaking the wolf, but only succeeded in tiring his arms. "Change her back!" he ordered. "Change her back, you monster, change her back-"

"Grrrrrrr...!"

Kevin felt a person's hand clasp his shoulder and push him backwards into the sand. He looked up and saw not Mr. Hammond or his wife nor a police officer, but a wild-looking man in gray robes. He had the golden pup slung over his shoulder, balancing the weight with his left hand. Kevin stared up mutely, his mouth hanging open. That man was the black dog!

"Don't," the man growled, his voice more savage than the hunter's howl. "Don't. Tell. Anyone."

And then he became the huge black dog again with the pup on his back. He was pushing against the hunter wolf, trying to get him up onto his feet. The wolf managed to rise and the black dog urged him to move. Once on his feet, the wolf teetered awkwardly, and began to run. The two animals ran down the beach: the black dog at a sprint; the wolf, tripping, tumbling, then finally picking up speed. Kevin watched, spellbound, as the two figures were becoming smaller and smaller then disappeared into the distance.

From the street flashing lights were seen as a patrol car pulled up. An officer had stepped out and was calling down to him.

"Sir, are you all right?"

Kevin staggered to his feet and met the officer's astonished expression. He answered by doing what any logical person would do: he fainted dead away.

***

Sirius was galloping frantically through the surf. The pup was slung over his back like a bag of flour, her paws dragging across the sand. Behind them ran the wolf. In earlier times, Sirius would have called him Moony, but he knew that calling this creature by a familiar name was impossible. He was not Moony or Remus or anything that could be named; he was only the hunter, the wolf.

And right now, the wolf was drugged and mad like hell.

"Woof! Woof!" the creature barked. He stopped running and stood there, swaying drunkenly, snarling at the skies.

Oh damn! They had to get moving! Sirius ran up to him and pulled on the thick fur with his jaws, trying to spur the animal into moving again. Stupid wolf, thinks he could take an army while he's stoned-

It wasn't working.

"Woof!" The wolf tripped over its own front paws and slouched against Sirius' side. Sirius fell back against the weight, his paws sinking into the damp sand. Mary toppled off his back into the shallow water. Not good.

Zzziiippp! Zzzziiippp!

Croaker swooped down again.

Even worse.

"Oooowwww!" the wolf bayed. His mouth foamed freely now and his coat was damp with seawater and sweat. He flopped forward, a sopping mess of fur and teeth, then dropped into the sand senseless.

Croaker jumped off his broom and landed, cat-like, onto the sand. He had the tranquilizer gun propped on his shoulder and was steadily shooting a stream of darts at them. The air buzzed as they whizzed through the air. Sirius sprang in front of the wolf, protecting him.

Zzziiippp! Zzziiippp! Zzziippp! Zzzziiipp!

Sirius felt the sharp needle pricks through his shoulder, his back. He groaned and shook his furry head, trying to get them off. His paws went out from under him and he joined his friends in the sand.

Triumphant, Croaker pulled out a length of rope from his robes. He crouched down to tie their paws up. He reached down to take Sirius' paws-

Sirius attacked, clamping his jaws on the Unspeakable's arm.

"Owwwww!" Croaker cried out. He shook his trapped arm wildly, but Sirius held on. He saw Croaker go for his belt - a fearsome dagger was drawn-

Sirius let go. The needles stuck out grotesquely from his fur, but he was unharmed. Apparently, they only affected werewolves. He crouched down, a deep growl rumbling from the back of his throat.

Croaker clasped his bleeding arm, shooting a murderous glance at the dog. He backed away and picked up the gun, draping its belt over his shoulder. Sirius waited for him to make the first move. His mind was a whirl; all he could think of was ripping that bastard's throat out. If he had hands then, he would have given Croaker the finger.

From behind the Unspeakable, a shadow flew in the air. Sirius spotted it and his heart jumped. It couldn't be- wait, it was, thank God, finally-!

A hippogriff's battle cry trumpeted through the air.

"Tttssseeerrrrrr!"

Croaker barely had a chance to glance behind him before Buckbeak slammed him into the ground with his front paws. A swift kick to the head and Croaker was out for the count.

Instantly, Sirius was his human self again, laughing like a maniac. Heedless of the two-inch darts piercing his skin, he jumped up and slapped the hippogriff on the flanks. "Dammit, did I ever tell you how much I love you??" he whooped. Buckbeak tossed his head back and squawked loudly in return.

"No, I love you, Rem!" Sirius grabbed the wolf and yanked the last needle out of his back. "Can you hear me? It was your idea to let Buckbeak watch over us! Ha ha!" He then kicked the hippogriff in his scaly knee. "Now what took you so long??"

Buckbeak only clucked his tongue at him disdainfully.

Sirius sighed. "Never mind. Let's just get the hell out of here before Croaker wakes." Carefully, he loaded the two incapacitated wolves onto Buckbeak's back. He went to mount himself, but Buckbeak shifted away. "Hey, get over here!"

Buckbeak glared at him with one orange eye.

"Fine," he admitted roughly. "I owe you. Again."

"Craw!" the hippogriff confirmed with satisfaction, kneeling down so Sirius could climb on. He checked to make sure the wolves wouldn't fall off before Buckbeak launched into the air. Plucking the darts out of his shoulders, he wincing at the pain. "What is this?" A wicked thought popped in his head. "Fly lower, old boy!"

Buckbeak glided down along the beach. Sirius took the four darts in his hand and carefully aimed-

Fwapp! They landed exactly where he wanted them.

Yes! Sirius grinned, the remnants of a schoolboy's mischievousness glinting in his eye. That was for shooting them with the tranquilizer gun! He chuckled and goaded Buckbeak to fly higher thinking, Croaker is going to feel that in the morning!

Chapter 38

Where was he? Lupin surveyed his surroundings. Forest. Endless forest. He was sitting on a red-and-white checkered blanket. It was nighttime, but a Muggle lantern was hanging from a tree branch above him. Little fireflies hovered around its luminescent glow.

He saw that the blanket he was set up for an outdoor picnic. There were cups, plates, and napkins strewn about. The cups were filled with a black substance, and there was no food except for a giant silver dish covered with raw bloody strips of meat.

Across from him sat Mary in her little green jumper. She leaned over and grabbed a long, thin strip from the serving plate and stuffed it in her mouth.

"Mary..." a stern voice said next to him.

Lupin turned his head. It was Claire, dressed in that lovely mint dress. She was beautiful, looking exactly how she did when he took her out to the film festival. In her hands were an elegant knife and fork. She tapped Mary's arm with the hand holding the fork.

"I told you not to eat wiz your hands," she said. "It is not proper of us."

"But Mama..." Mary protested, her mouth full.

What was going on? Last thing Lupin remembered, he was transforming.... The night of the full moon...

"Non, I will show you." She put her fork into the pile and picked up a dripping red piece. Putting it on her plate she quickly cut it up with the knife and fork. "See?" she said. "We 'ave to give a good impression."

"But I'm tired of pretending," she said. "Why can't we stop?"

"Ask your father. 'E is ze expert."

"Papa?" Mary looked at him. "Why do we have to keep pretending? Why can't we act like who we really are?"

What did they call him? Father? He was her father? Lupin didn't understand; he was so confused. He was supposed to be a wolf, not having a meal outdoors! From the darkness, he heard the rustle of cattails and long grass. A familiar stench came to his nose. The fetid smell of rotting vegetation and vomit and fresh blood...

Swampland? Was he near Hogsmeade? The swamp at night... The stirring of the cattails... Lycaos lurking in the grass... Father and his silver arrows...

"Well, I..." His throat was going dry. "I don't know," he replied. "Who do you think you are anyway?"

"I'm like you, Papa!" And Mary plunged her little bloody hands into the dish again to grab another piece. She lifted it up to her mouth and slurped it down. Crimson splattered all down the front of her jumper.

"Mary!" Claire reproached. "You are getting yourself all dirty..."

Suddenly, the scene was turning dark.... Mary was trying to wipe off her clothes with a red handkerchief. Claire grabbed Lupin's arm and whispered into his ear, "Remember your promise..."

Lupin reached over with a napkin, trying to wipe the mess dribbling down Mary's chin. She was fading away... His head began hurting, he couldn't see....

"Remus......?"

He opened his eyes... The world was swirling around him.... Bright light.... He squinted his eyes. The pounding in his head grew worse.... His body ached, throbbing with a dull pain....

Sirius was staring down at him, his face fuzzy and unclear. He could feel the sweat running down his face. Gasping for breath, Lupin felt a sharp pain twitch in his chest. He gasped out loud, letting his eyes roll back...

Something wet and cool was placed on his forehead. Lupin closed his eyes, and saw the red inside of his eyelids. Out of all things, he felt the need to vomit.

"Where....?" He murmured.

"You're safe now," Sirius told him. His voice echoed in his ears. "Sleep...."

The light was diminishing.... The world dissolved again and he drifted off into darkness...

***

Croaker was angry with himself. Letting the wolf slip from his grasp - again! He pushed his way through the crowded London streets. It was hard enough for him to move already - his arm was in a sling and he had an awkward limp. In the middle of the night, he had woken up on the beach to find several tranquilizer darts jammed into the most sensitive of places. Most likely he wouldn't be able to sit properly for a week.

To add insult to injury, Croaker couldn't find that wolf after the attack. Lupin had an ally - some dog that he wasn't familiar with. Was it a were-dog? A hybrid? A stray that the wolf befriended? He didn't know, but whoever or whatever that creature was, it helped Lupin get away. They must have been hiding out in the parks or alleyways or somewhere... Croaker searched all night but couldn't find a trace.

And now he didn't have another chance. The RMC would be stoked into going down to Brighton themselves, leaving Croaker with an unresolved grudge. Already the full moon escapade hit the Muggle papers; the story reached the Evening Prophet the night before. The wizard headline said this: "Wolf Strikes Again in Brighton: Attacks Muggle Couple." He was on his way to the Registry right now, hoping to have a word with Parsons. About what exactly he didn't know; maybe to thank him for loaning the gun, however useless that turned out to be. Basically, all he wanted to blow off some steam at someone. He elbowed his way past a young couple, hearing their insulted remarks behind him.

"Watch it!"

"Jerk!"

Damn Muggles. Croaker wanted to go back and get that information from Kevin Grisham. Yet how could he? There was too much publicity going about already. It was already common knowledge now that Grisham thought a werewolf attacked his daughter. No one believed him of course, but no wizard can put a Memory Charm on him now. He saw too much and the town knows of it. If he were to suddenly deny recalling anything, too much confusion would ensue. Most likely, the Ministry would leave his memory alone and he would keep quiet when he realizes others view him insane. A similar case happened during the Ilfracombe Incident of 1932, when a Welsh Green attacked a group of sun-bathing Muggles. A few residents escaped without having their memories modified, but that did not have any long-term effects. Those surviving witness (including one nicknamed "Dodgy Dirk") were viewed as harmless loonies.

He came to a large, plain-front building and stepped through the front doors. The lobby was empty and colorless, with only an unadorned front desk by a set of elevators. Behind the counter, a lady was using a computer.

"Hey, Beatrice," he said.

She looked up. "Croaker!" she greeted. "Go right ahead."

"Thanks." He walked past her to the elevators. Glancing back, he saw that she was playing Solitaire.

This lobby held no purpose other than being a little-used access way to the Ministry building. Any Muggles who wandered in here by accident were turned back. Croaker resorted to using the front entrance only because he still needed to get a new wand and couldn't Apparate his way in.

The third elevator door to his left opened at his approach. There was no actual elevator inside, only the shaft leading down. Without a second glance, Croaker stepped in and fell.

"The Registry," he said casually as he plummeted to the bottom. Suddenly, a glittering swirl surrounded him and shot him upwards three levels. He was dressed in a slightly rumpled Muggle suit and so didn't have to worry about his robes flapping about. Halting in front of another set of metal doors, Croaker checked his watch and adjusted his tie before the doors slid open.

The Registry of Magical Creatures was in a frenzy. Officers were running to and fro; secretaries were answering conference mirrors; interns and lackeys were dashing about with tea and files. The mail boy had his hands full, trying to sort the mail on his cart as owls dashed in and out of the window. Out of his hands a smoking red envelope dropped and hit the floor.

"Look out!" he cried, covering his head.

The red enveloped snapped open, and a deep, bear-like voice bellowed:

"C'EST BERNARD NICHOLAS BISCLAVRET LE TROISIÉME, LE MÂLE D'ALPHA DU CHIEN-LOUP! JE NE SUIS PAS HEUREUX DU TRAITEMENT DE MA SOEUR DANS VOTRE PAYS!"

Workers and officers all bowed down their heads and covered their ears from the blare. Papers fluttered off desks and pointed hats flew off heads as the Howler went on. Croaker put his hands over his throbbing eardrums.

"EN FAIT, JE SUIS AINSI MALHEUREUX QUANT AU FICHIER UNE PLAINTE CONTRE VOTRE GOUVERNEMENT!! POUVEZ-VOUS DIRE LE PROCÈS INTERNATIONAL!? JE CROIS QUE VOUS POUVEZ!"

Croaker made his way through the havoc, stopping outside of Parsons' office door. He barged in - he never knocked - only to find the room empty. He wasn't surprised. The agent must be somewhere. Stepping out of the room, he flagged down the nearest person, a flustered-looking file clerk with an arm full of papers.

"PROCÈS!!"

"Where's Agent Parsons?" he demanded loudly, grabbing the boy's uniform front.

"Um... dungeons, I think," he spluttered, his hat toppling off his head.

"P-R-O-C-E-S! ET UN ACCENT AU-DESSUS DU E!"

"Humf!" Croaker made his way down the twisting hallways until he got to the jail ward. Far from the RMC, the Howler's roar had dimmed down to a dull background rumble. Yet the noise only added to his irritated mood. He shouted to the guard on duty, "Get me to the dungeon!"

The guard, flustered, almost dropped his tea. "Okay, sir!" he said, jumping from his post and racing to unlock the dungeon door. Soon, Croaker made his way down to the bowels of the Ministry. Here, too, was full of wizards. Three were huddled in front of a closed cell. A guard opened the door and two of the wizards stepped in. Some loud shouts were heard and they came out again, dragging Ianikit. The werewolf was cursing and kicking.

"Murderers! Bastards!"

Ianikit wasn't the only one shouting. Inside the whitewashed room, he could see Parsons rigidly standing, arms at his side. An older, gray-haired man with a potbelly and a cigar circled him like a vulture, yelling at the top of his lungs. He was fuming, and the cigar smoke and ash added his raging appearance. His exact words were indistinguishable through the walls, but the sheer volume was not.

"Someone's getting his ass chewed off," he observed to himself smugly. Well, even if he failed in his mission, Croaker was glad that he wasn't going to get a beat down from his superior.

"And ya call me a monster!" Ianikit was shouting. He faced Croaker, the closest one standing. "Look in the mirror, wizard!" he raved. "There's somethin' dark inside ya too! Somethin' that comes out more often than every full moon!"

One of the wizards shot him with a Stupefy Spell, and he slumped between the their hold, unconscious. Croaker watched as they carried him up the stairway. Another one to be locked up in The Kennel.

At a second cell, a Squib janitor stepped out holding a bloody mop and soap bucket. Croaker, wondering, peeked inside the cell only to see it empty and spotless. Nearby, a plump Asian woman was advising the other wizards in clearing out the cells. He recognized her as an MLES officer by her uniform. "What's going on?" he asked. "The Registry's a mess."

"It's been a rush all morning," she said, biting her lip worriedly. "The French Ministry of Magic is very upset, especially their Department for the Regulation of Non-Wizard, Part-Human Creatures. They want the International Council of Wizards to investigate the RMC. Something happened to a very prominent wolf and now her whole clan's raving; they're demanding an international lawsuit."

Croaker was amazed. "Is that even possible?"

"If the investigation turns up something against the Registry, the French Ministry could demand reparations on behalf of the clan."

What kind of country would do that for wolves? Well, France was always the mandrake-hugging, save-the-unicorns, type of government. If they hadn't banned werewolf immigration into their country, the British RMC - or the world even - might not have any wolf problems at all.

The MLES officer continued. "Last night during the full moon, Parsons confronted Madame de Chien-Loup. A LOCD. No one's really sure whether he didn't give her the Wolfsbane Potion or if she refused it, but she didn't take it when the moon rose." She shook her head sadly. "There was a big commotion after the transformations - the wolf threw herself at him - and he locked her in. The cell wasn't appropriately modified for her condition and...." She threw up her hands, as if that summed up the explanation.

Stupid beast. "What became of her?"

"Her brother called in early this morning and requested to take her back to France. They Apparated her over with special permission. I don't know what her current medical status is...." she paused. "Madame de Chien-Loup had been acting strangely the day before the full moon..."

Now informed, Croaker began to lose interest. His anger had died away from ember to ash. Besides, Parsons was already getting whipped, much to Croaker's joy, and even darker consequences were awaiting him. The agent always had been an annoyance to him anyway. Parsons, always strutting about, never giving higher officers like Croaker the proper respect. On the other hand, Croaker wasn't going to lose his job. Fudge would always need his undercover right hand man. "Well, if Roger gets sent to the Centaur Office, it's his own fault." He snorted. "Always knew he'd get in trouble sometime..."

***

He was somewhere else now. Lupin looked around. Everything was colored in shades of gray. The sky, the houses, the street, the trees, the grass. The road beneath him was black. The windows were translucent silver. Above, the sun cast down pale white rays.

He turned around. The Safehouse was white, like it just had a fresh coat of paint. The gate was swung open. Someone was sitting on the steps. Lupin noticed that person had bright red hair. He walked over.

"Toby?"

"Long time, no see," he greeted, descending from a ladder. He was wearing granite gray overalls over an iron gray shirt. Steel gray boots covered his feet. His face and hands were ashen and his eyes had silver retinas. Only his hair retained its same red-gold hue. At his feet were some cans of white paint and several brushes.

Lupin sat down. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, I was painting." Toby gestured behind him at the Safehouse. "Looks brand-new, doesn't it?"

"Where is everyone?"

"I dunno." Toby shrugged. He sat down on the front steps. "You're the first person I've seen in weeks."

"Weeks?" Lupin said, startled. "And you've been painting... all by yourself...?"

"For weeks and weeks." He smiled. "Nice to see a face now."

He couldn't comprehend why he was so happy. "You don't know where everyone else is?"

"I know they're somewhere." Toby put his hands on his knees. "My parents died a long time ago, you know," he said.

"Really?"

"Don't remember them much. I was made into a ward of the state and put in an orphanage with all of those other kids nobody wanted. They have a saying there: that once you hit thirteen, nobody really wants you."

His words sounded familiar. Lupin swiftly remembered. He had told Kevin a similar story! So... so this world... Lupin cast an eye around. This was a dream! This wasn't the real Toby speaking to him but a figment of his imagination! Lupin remembered the night picnic. That was a dream too. He calmed down. Now that he got a grip on this reality, he played along.

"That must be horrible," he said.

"It was." Toby ran a hand through his red hair. "I was locked up with all the vampies and half-giants and what not. I was alone for a long time. Finally, I got sick of it all and ran away from the home."

"Where did you go from there?" Lupin wondered if Toby was going to say what he thought he'd say.

He did. "I joined up with the Freedom Hounds."

"Joined the Freedom Hounds?"

"Ulysses found me sleeping at a shelter. He's like a father to me."

"Why not Jarohnen?"

"Well... he's more like an eccentric uncle than a father."

"Oh." Go figure. Even though this was all a dream, Toby's story here sounded very plausible to real life. If Lupin ever saw him again, he'd be sure to ask. "Isn't it..." Lupin tried to phrase the question right. "Without everyone else..." He was uncomfortable with talking about anything that directly related to him emotionally.

"Am I lonely?" Toby ended for him. Obviously he'd know what Lupin was talking about; he was only a part of a dream after all.

"Yes." Lupin attempted to steer the subject off so he didn't feel so relevant to it. "Being here all by yourself all the time-"

"Nah." Toby dismissed with a wave of his hand.

This was certainly turning into an odd conversation. He asked curiously, "Why?"

"Hey, it's not like I hate them. They're my family. And I know that as long as they're out there somewhere, I'm not alone. I have faith that they're somewhere.... It's weird, but you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes...." Lupin said attentively. "I suppose I do..."

He got up and started walking toward the street. What strange dreams he was having. First a picnic in the forest and now this...

"Where are you going?" Toby called.

"I don't know. I need to find out."

"Okay." Toby picked up his brush. "Better get back to work. See you around, Remus."

Thinking of a final question, Lupin stopped. "Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"What if something unfortunate befell them, and you never knew...?"

A laugh. "You don't get it, do you?" Toby turned back around. "The thought's stronger than reality."

At those words, Lupin felt himself sinking. The ground tore away beneath his feet - he was falling, floating through nothingness... The dream was fading, and he was floating down into an abyss... an abyss of light...

He blinked. Colors. Swirling colors. He put a hand to his head. Vertigo, spinning.... He groaned and sat up. Big mistake - his surroundings broke up and tossed and turned like the glass pieces in a kaleidoscope. He shut his eyes for a few minutes and opened them again. This vision steadied itself; he could see that he was in his bedroom at Her Majesty. A shaded lamp was in the far corner, casting dim light and dark shadows.

Those dreams.... He shook his head. Lupin never believed in predicting the future using dreams or any of that insubstantial divination, but he wouldn't deny that they had a certain meaning. Being one to muse often, he laid back and shut his eyes again.

Vague pictures and phrases kept running through his head... Mary with her hands covered in blood... the swamp with the rustling cattails, "I'm like you, Papa!" Walking through London, shades of gray, Toby with the paint bucket... "You don't get it, do you?"

Glancing around the room, he saw his briefcase open on the bed stand, next to a pitcher of water and a glass tumbler. He reached over and took a book from the case: his yellowed book on lycanthropy. Leafing through its contents, he stumbled upon the one with the Damnation passage. He had copied that from an old textbook years and years ago. Slowly, he traced the words with his fingers, and then turned the page. Written there was a lengthy piece, scribbled in a nine-year old's chicken scrawl.

Murphy and me met up with a widower today. I think her name is Sandra. She said that she used to be an Auror when she was younger. Her house smelled funny. She had a cane too, and she hit the cane on the floor every time she talked. She was telling us that she used to work for the Registry of Magical Creatures. I just found out my number from there other day. It's 4765. She said that she used to live in Romania and killed off all the werewolves there. There was a big silver sword hanging over the fireplace and she would point to it a lot and say, "And yup, I chopped their heads off when I was done, huzza, huzza!" And she would bang her cane against the floor. She sounded real proud of herself, but after a while I asked Murphy if we could leave. I think I got sick because her house stunk so much. She's better than the other people we've met, but I still don't like her.

The only good thing she told us that I need to write down is that a werewolf can't hurt any of the people he's bitten because after they've been bitted, their souls are connected together. She said that if the wolf hurt any of his pups (the people he's bitted) he would be hurting himself in the same way at the same time. I'm glad because then I might stop having nightmares about the swamp and Lycaos attacking me again.

Thoughtfully, Lupin flipped the page. The next message was a much shorter one, written so hastily that it was barely legible. Large wrinkled drops dotted the page and in some spots, the ink was smudged. Lupin wondered why and then he remembered: he had been crying when he wrote this.

I'm so mad!!!!!!! Today me and Murphy saw someone and when he asked about werewolf cures the man said that he knew one and that was to be shot in the heart with something that was silver by your true love. I wanted Murphy to shoot me with an arrow, but then he got really mad and he said that if Father was still alive he would never, ever allow it and I'm so mad that he wouldn't shoot me because I thought he knew I hated being a werewolf and it ain't fair and I hate being a werewolf and I wanted a cure and I think that Murphy doesn't really love me at all and that I'm just his Master's son and if he really did like me even a little tiny bit he would try just once and it just ain't fair and I think he's just a stupid old fat Squib! It ain't fair and I think he doesn't love me and he's only loyal to Father and doesn't really care about me and he's just a STUPID, STUPID SQUIB!!!

Lupin slammed the book shut. Old memories cut deep. It wasn't old Murphy's fault, he was sure. He was just father's loyal manservant, and he really did care for him...

An idea formulated in his head at that moment. Whether it was an urge prompted by his dreams, the book, or something else Lupin wasn't sure. But he knew what he had to do. He had to leave...

"Remember your promise..."

Lupin gripped the bed stand and painfully sat up again. Three sharp stabs at his back. He cried out and dropped onto the bed again. What was that? With a tentative hand, he reached over and slipped his hand beneath his robes. With clammy fingers, he outlined three huge welts....

He gasped and jerked his hand back. Where did he get those?? His hands were clammy. He wiped the sweat off his palms on his blanket, shuddering. Time to get up, Remus....

Lupin pushed his legs off the bed - they felt like jelly - and rose up-

His legs wouldn't hold - he slipped, grabbing onto the sliding blanket-

Sirius appeared at the doorway and caught Lupin by the crook of the elbow just before he hit the floor. "Rem!" he cried. "Get back into bed."

Lupin shook his head no. "Can't," he said weakly. "Have to... Have to..."

"Have to get some rest," Sirius finished. "You got pretty knocked up during the full moon."

"Mary...?" He moved to get up again.

"Asleep." Sirius restrained him gently. "You have to rest," he said.

"There's..." Lupin gestured toward his back. The three wounds.

Sirius frowned. "That Unspeakable you mentioned - Croaker - we ran into him last night. He shot you in your back with some darts..."

Shots... Croaker... "Wolfsbane," he suddenly gasped. "It's... the effects..."

"You think?" He was helping his friend back into bed. "It's best if you tried not to move much."

"I can't..." He tried gathering his thoughts together. He made a promise; he had to fulfill it. But not now, not now... Lupin settled himself back into bed. "Tell me," he said. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth.

"Last night?"

"Yes..."

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "You were right," he said brightly. "Mary got better with the full moon. The bullet came out; the transformation took place without a hitch. You don't have to worry about her now-"

He was talking too quickly for Lupin's liking. "But what else?" he prodded.

"I led you out to the ocean." Sirius tried to act casual in his retelling. "It worked like a charm, exactly how you said before. Water does have an odd way in calming wolves down. Remember how, back at Hogwarts, we used to go down to the lake-" Sirius stopped himself. Lupin knew he was going to mention something about James and Peter, forbidden names to speak of. Lupin knew he would never say their names consciously. Something was wrong. "Well, the ocean worked as a perfect distraction. The water was freezing, but I suppose, the cold doesn't affect werewolves as much. We were out all night, until Croaker came and we escaped. That idea of yours worked well; Buckbeak came in the nick of time."

"You're hiding something from me," Lupin said softly.

Sirius looked up. "What do you mean?"

"You're lying."

His gaze shifted. "About what?"

"What else happened?" He gave a dry, hacking cough; his throat felt parched.

Sirius handed him a tumbler full of water from the bed stand. "Nothing, we just-"

Lupin coughed again. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his normal voice. "What else happened?" he pressed, his voice hoarse. "Stop staring at your hands and look at me."

Sirius did. He knew he couldn't fool him. "You want to know?"

Lupin took a sip of water. This was what he needed. "Yes."

"You... you attacked someone," he said bluntly.

Strangely, he wasn't surprised. "Who?"

"A couple on the beach. I should have led you two farther away; I tried to, but the woman, she was screaming at us and that caught your attention-"

"What was she saying?"

"I don't know exactly-"

"You do." Lupin gripped the edge of the bed stand and sat up, despite the pain. "Do not lie to me, Sirius. I have had enough with lying."

"She said you killed their daughter." Sirius eyed him tensely. The next question came out carefully, as if he was trying to pull all the pieces together. "They were Mary's parents, weren't they?"

Lupin turned away.

"Nothing happened," Sirius reassured. "They weren't hurt. Croaker spotted us and prevented you from doing any harm."

"Did I attack Kevin?"

"Yes." Sirius hesitated. "How do you know?"

Because the wolf felt threatened by him. Mary couldn't have a human father and a wolf father at the same time. One must eliminate the other. Yet Lupin didn't answer aloud. "We cannot stay here," he said instead. "The RMC would be coming soon, if not today...." He met Sirius' pale eyes. "We have to depart. Immediately."

"Not in your condition-" Sirius protested.

"We have no choice."

He tried another angle. "Buckbeak can only carry so much weight," he said. "Even if it was only Mary and I, that's pushing the limit. Three people is almost impossible for him."

"I will find a way." Lupin's mind raced. "I wanted us to go to the mountains up north. Near Hogwarts so we can keep an eye on Harry."

"I know." Sirius reached into his pocket and took out a dog-eared letter. "From Harry. I just got it this morning."

Of course. His friend Ron had a pygmy owl Sirius gave him at the beginning of the summer. Pigwidgeon always knows where to find him; it was a magical tracking talent that was bred into most delivery owls.

"I want you and Buckbeak to leave," he said.

"Now?" Sirius refused. "At least wait until tomorrow night."

"We don't have much time."

"Look, how about I'll take us a few towns over," he compromised. "That way, we'd be far enough from the Registry, but you wouldn't be tired out."

Lupin wanted Sirius to leave. He couldn't fulfill his promise with him around... "Go find a suitable place," he said. "I will take care of Mary here."

"You can't even take care of yourself."

"As you just said, we won't be going too far. I want you to find a secure place to us. We will figure out the transportation later."

Sirius was feeling uneasy. He was sensing what Lupin was about to do, wasn't he? Thankfully, he agreed. "Okay, Remus," he said, getting up from his seat. "I'll go. Just keep the doors locked."

Yes, Sirius. Leave. He nodded. "Make sure you're not seen by anyone."

He left the room.

It was going perfectly. Like a plan. Lupin was part of some great plan, it seemed, like some holistic pattern that he wasn't aware of...

He leaned his head against the headboard. Downstairs, he could hear Sirius talking to Buckbeak. Yes, Sirius would be leading the hippogriff out - Lupin could see his friend lifting off - the silent glide of Buckbeak's wings through the air - a little longer and they would be gone....

After a few minutes, he tried getting up again. This time was met with success. No dizziness, no vertigo. Lupin took a few cautious steps. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he managed. First he came to the window and looked out. It was dark. Nighttime already? No one would be out....

Turning around, he then left his bedroom and headed to the ground floor. In the kitchen was a phone. He shuffled around. He knew he had seen it somewhere. Checking the drawers he found what he wanted. A phone book. Flipping the pages, he tried recalling the name he saw on the mailbox. Ford.

Fogg, Fontaine, Forand, Forbes, Forcier. Ford. Yes, there it was. He scanned the list. Several people. But only one of them was at the address he was looking for.

Lupin picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Finally, someone picked up. "Hello?" A woman's voice.

"Hello." he said. This must either be his wife or his sister. "Do you know Kevin Grisham?"

"Yes..." the woman trailed off uncertainly.

"Are you his wife?"

"Yes..." The woman sounded even more unsure. "Who is this?"

"I have to tell you something," he said carefully. "About your daughter."

She said sharply, "What kind of sick joke are you pulling-?"

"Don't hang up! Don't hang up!" he said quickly. "Just listen to me, please. I'm not trying to do any harm."

No answer.

"Please? Mrs. Grisham?"

Nothing. Lupin waited.

Very faintly, he could hear breathing on the other end. Still there. "What does your husband know?" Somehow, Kevin knew about werewolves; Lupin was sure. It was a strange, gut-instinct feeling. He'd risk his life on it.

This time, she answered. "What do you mean?"

"Where is he? What does he know?"

"He's... he's being checked out at the hospital. I don't ... don't know what you're talking about..." Then it was her turn to ask questions. "Who are you? What do you know about our daughter? If this is some prank call, I'll get the police I swear-"

Lupin simply said, "It's not a joke. You have to believe me. If you love your daughter-"

The dial tone. She had hung up on him.

He quickly re-dialed. Twenty rings passed with no answer.

Wordlessly, he put down the receiver.

***

"Remmy, where are we going?"

"Only a brief stroll down the beach."

Lupin looked over his shoulder at the pounding waves. They were louder tonight than any night before. A storm was coming. A glance overhead confirmed this. The sky wasn't black but a deep, thundering gray. Storm clouds.

He looked down warmly at her. Mary's gloved hand was tucked into his; their arms swung together in rhythm with the sea. In his other hand he held his briefcase. Lupin had made sure that he left nothing behind at Her Majesty.

"Why are we going to the fisherman's place?" she asked suddenly.

"How did you know?"

"Because it's in that direction." She pointed ahead. "Where did Sirius and Buckbeak go again?"

"They just went out on an errand. Don't worry about them anymore."

Mary glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye for a moment, her childlike perception kicking in. "Sirius knows that we're gone, right?"

"We wouldn't have left the house if he didn't know."

She pondered this for a moment, but said nothing more on the topic. Oh, how much she trusted him!

Little time passed when they made it to the hovel. The door was wide open from when Lupin burst out of there during the full moon. This place, the inanimate witness to so many things, seemed more than just a rough broken-down shack. It seemed almost holy. He ran his hand briefly against the wood. If these walls could speak...

Lupin sat himself down on the floor, putting his briefcase down next to him. He felt an eerie calm settle over him. He tucked his hand in his pocket. No turning back. "Sit down. I have to tell you something."

Mary kneeled down beside him. He clothed her in white dress that he found near the bottom of his briefcase. It was a little long for her and highlighted her small size. She was like a doll, a pretty golden-haired doll...

"Why are we here?" she questioned timidly. Her eyes darted to a corner where a torn spider web fluttered in the breeze.

"Because." Lupin paused. "I cannot stay with you anymore."

"What?" Her eyes left the web. "What do you mean?"

"I came here to say good-bye." Lupin couldn't believe his calm exterior. Why was he acting so gently? Why wasn't he crying?

"But you promised!" Mary gave him a frightened look. "You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I can't stay." He smiled, trying to be as sincere as possible.

But the girl began to panic at his words. "Sirius said you were sick," she said quickly. "Maybe you're just tired." She got up to her feet. "We have to go back home. We have to go back so you can sleep because you're sick-"

"Hush, child," he said calmly. "I'll be fine. Please sit down."

"No!" Mary clenched her fists then grabbed his arm urgently. "You're gonna die, are you?" she asked worriedly.

He only answered with another smile. "Don't be afraid," he told her. "But you have to listen to me-"

"I wanna go back!" Mary cried. "I wanna go back and see Sirius!"

"Shhh...." Lupin pulled her down to the floor and stroked her hair. Beautiful hair, innocent girl. "Don't worry, my girl. Don't worry..."

Mary glanced about uncomfortably, her hands balled into fists. "You're scaring me, Remmy," she whispered. She blinked rapidly, her nose turning red.

Tears! "Don't cry," he said reverently. "Now, Mary, you won't ever see me again..."

She sniffed and shook her head stubbornly. "You promised..."

"It's better this way." Lupin wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders. "You'll live a better life, and eventually, you'll forget me."

"Never!" she protested. "Don't say this, please, don't say this..."

"The RMC will erase your memory if they find you. But they can't kill you; they have no reason... Your father knows best. He will find you and take you away from here..."

"Stop it!" she pushed him away. "Stop it!"

Lupin went on in that same earnest tone. "And even if they do not change your memory, you'll deny it within yourself. You wouldn't want to remember." He reached out for her again. "You'll never want to remember the werewolf that hurt you."

The first tear fell. "But... but I have to help you!" she pleaded in a quivering voice. "You can't leave if I haven't helped you!"

"You have, and that's another thing I wanted to tell you." He was silent for a few seconds. "I had been a thief all my life," he confessed quietly. He gave her a searching look. "Do you know what a thief is?"

A small nod. "Someone who steals."

He nodded as well. "I stole as a child with my friends for fun," he said. "And when I grew older, I stole to survive. I took food, clothing, money - even houses," he said, thinking of Her Majesty. "It is the only thing I know how to do well, Mary. I only know how to take from others."

She was sitting closer now; he put a hand to her cheek and carefully turned her face towards him. She was trembling under his touch.

"But I learned that I can't steal happiness," he whispered gravely. "That is how you helped me. You taught that theft couldn't grant me a family."

She didn't understand his message, only the sorrow he tried to keep out of his voice. Mary wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. "I'm sorry," she wept. "I'll be your family, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...."

"You were, little lamb, you were," Lupin hugged tightly her with his left arm.

She buried her face in his shoulder. A muffled sob. "I love you."

"I know." He lifted his right hand out of his pocket.

Click.

Mary lifted her head slowly, fearfully, as she felt the metal pressed against her chest, an expression of disbelief on her face. Lupin gazed solemnly into the eyes of his child.

"I love you too," he whispered.

The crack of the gunshot was lost amidst the thundering of the waves.

Epilogue

They found her in a beat-up old shack hidden away in a cove on the beach. A crowd of local college students, unleashed for the holidays, had made their way there to get drunk, light a fire, and make the most of the abandoned hangout. More than one beer can split upon the sand when they opened the door.

An ambulance was called immediately. Within fifteen minutes, the noise brought the residents peeping from their houses. So much commotion within two days - and so near Christmas too! This brought even the most reclusive to the site. Sheila Kibitzer was on the scene carrying a tape recorder. Her next story made it to the national papers.

The medical technicians brought her out on a stretcher that they carried up to the road. By then, a light drizzle had turned into a steady downpour. Quite a crowd adorned with umbrellas and rain slickers formed; the police had to put up tape and wooden barricades to hold them back.

A golden-haired man stepped past the barricade when the stretcher approached the ambulance. "I'm her father," he whispered. The EMT lifted the sheet to show him. He stumbled back as if he had been punched. The stretcher moved on.

These EMTs loaded her onto the ambulance and shut the door. The police on site waved their hands up in the air as the vehicle drove away, lights flashing, siren screaming. "Show's over folks! Go back to your homes! Nothing more to see here!"

It took quite awhile before the crowd dispersed. And still, after they had left, the man and his wife stood alone in the street. Afterwards, they would be the first at the hospital to see her again. Later on, the family would arrange a trip to leave England, never to return.

Down the street, heading toward the highway, the ambulance sped toward Princess Royal Hospital. Inside, the EMTs worked frantically, trying to save a life. One of them hooked her up to machines that recorded vital signs. On a little black screen, a green line showed, beeping rhythmically. Someone put an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose; she was still breathing.

A technician was cutting off her clothing with surgical scissors, trying to get to the wound itself. The blood was sticky and wet; it stained their latex gloves.

The ambulance jolted and both EMTs clung onto the siding. The stretcher jumped. Loose surgical tools bounced in their trays.

Soon, the area was exposed. One of them went to apply pressure to the wound.

"Stop!" the other said. Something glinted in the wound, something that was not heart or bone or muscle. A person noticed a steel-ball chain necklace hung from her neck.

"Get that off!"

A quick snip! of the scissors - the necklace fell to the ambulance floor. While one EMT applied the needed pressure to the wound, the other's hand reached down and picked it up.

An amazed shout. "My God! Look!"

The technician who picked up the necklace glanced down at the wound. Eyes widened.

"It's healed over!"

Hushed whispers of amazement.

"A miracle!"

Miracle indeed. The injury was cleaned with alcohol-soaked cotton. There was no open flesh, only dried blood.

The technician, astounded, could say nothing. He stared down at the jewelry in his hand, and then held it up in order to see it better.

A plain chain-ball necklace, slightly rusty. Its only ornament was a silver cross, shining dully in the artificial light.

End of Sin of Lycaos.

The Lycaos Series will continue with Wolf by Ears.

All comments and constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.