Ticking of the Clock

Hunting was both an excuse and an answer. Stalking through the snowdrifts after a shadow of a hare meant being away from every human who wanted a favor or whose guilty face reminded her of a foolish act. It took little effort at first to get Gregorov outside, but keeping him there was another matter. It wasn't the same for them. To her, the wolf's senses were like a drug. Everything felt heightened. What she lacked in eyesight, ears and nose made up for in ways that were unexplainable. Given a chance, she would hunt every night and spent a few hours as a wolf just for the sheer pleasure the form gave her. Gregorov was not as enamoured of his other form. It was enjoyable, the sensory stimuli were different enough to be intoxicating, but he had his limits. A night here and there was more than enough to satisfy those aspects of his nature. In truth, he preferred to lie on the couch and read or play a game of chess with Kessler. The itchy need that fueled his mate didn't hold him as deeply.

She lured him out on Friday night easily enough. The weather was perfect for a hunt around the mountainside. They chased game and tried digging out part of a rabbit warren. Mostly, they chased each other and wrestled in the snow. After a few hours, he was ready to return, but she wasn't. It was early enough that the Quidditch game between the seventh-year girls might be ending soon. Loup's stomach knotted every time she thought about the triangle in the building. Eventually, Lowenstein would have enough and track down the lovers. She only hoped that Magda would grow bored or pregnant before then. The possibility that Paul Wronski would gain favor over the notorious Ludwig Lowenstein was nil. While she rested after chasing a rabbit, she wondered how much longer the charade could continue. If Wronski knew and Magda knew that he knew and Lowenstein's suspicions were confirmed or his beautiful Mathilde found him too old, it had to end soon. Right? It had to. Still, it was the possibility of returning too early and finding Lowenstein pacing the halls that kept her out in the snows long after Gregorov grew grumpy.

Saturday, she declared, was best enjoyed lolling in bed. Gregorov concurred, but the suspicious glance he gave her as he left to clean out the tea and coffeepots suggested that he felt something else might be afoot. He didn't put up too much of a fight when the morning slopped over into the afternoon. It took growling bellies to budge her out of their quarters and she would only leave when she was certain that no one else was around. It wasn't fear of Lowenstein's possible retribution that kept her inside, it was more the idea of the messy emotional fallout that was certain to follow.

At mid afternoon, the kitchen staff was minimal. Too early to start dinner and too late for lunch, only Bette and two other women lounged there. No one leaped to get them food, but there was more than enough for the two to eat. The only price was having Bette display the hacked pieces of meat that Loup's attempt at the butchering spells had produced.

Another hunt was not attractive to him. Neither was the idea of lounging around more, which surprised Loup. Instead, he dragged out a chessboard and set up a game in the staff room. Attendance wasn't mandatory, but highly recommended. Kessler arrived within the hour and the two settled down to a game that mostly consisted of talking about old times before the fall of the regime with frequent digressions to the various students Kessler was seeing. As the men droned on, Loup feigned interest in a book. Saturday evening ticked on.

Ludwig and Magda arrived at dinnertime. The atmosphere of "normal" had a fragile feel to it. Dressed in what had been her usual earth tones, Magda looked drained. It was as if she had been forced to shed her youth and freedom by donning a long skirt and bulky sweater. Lowenstein made a point of stopping to chat with Gregorov about nothing. Idle chitchat aside, the atmosphere felt tense and distinctly unfriendly until they left.

It looked as though the men would play the night away, but one of the trio of blonde girls arrived after dinner to entice Kessler away.

"We could try the north side tonight. The echo is worth it even if we don't kill anything."

"There is nothing you would rather do, is there?" He fixed her with a glare and then turned his full attention to storing the chessmen into their little box.

"There isn't much to do here during the winter. The grading is caught up. We slept late this morning so I'm not tired. I've read everything in our quarters that's not in Russian. We could go down to the village or we could hunt. Do you have any suggestions?"

With a grunt, he agreed. "It is too bad that you do not play. I face Siegfried all the time."

"And he beats you most of the time," she laughed.

Growling and smiling at the same time, he stood and tucked the board under his arm. "It feels too early yet to go to sleep. The snow is getting deep. Are you sure you wish to hunt tonight?"

The question had a pleading tone to it.

"Well, what do you suggest?"

Nothing, was his shrugged reply. "For a little while. Tomorrow, I must prepare tests for all of my classes unless you wish to do so."

The suggestion appealed to her. "I'll help, but first let's spend a few hours outside."

At the door, he stopped at turned. "It is not wise to spend too many hours in the animal's body. They say it affects the mind."

Loup snorted in response and started to stretch. "They say many things, but how would they know?"

"Do you listen to your words? There are times you growl the endings and, when excited or angry, you yip. You hold your head thus." He cocked his head to one side, as if listening. "You act more like a wolf than a woman at times."

Unsure whether the observation was a warning or a dig, she assumed the very position he had just described. "Do you want to go or not?"

"I will go, but I feel that we should not stay out long. Yes?"

"Fine." She felt cheated, but said nothing else.

Gregorov took his time returning and dragged his feet through the gates and beyond. It was hard getting him to keep up with her as she sniffed for game. His enthusiasm picked up when they arrived at a cliff wall. The echoes there were amazing and soon the mountain sounded as if there was a full pack instead of only two. After they had finished howling, he was ready to return. He seemed to mope when she caught the scent of a rabbit and chased after it. The fun seemed less when he was like that.

They were back in the building by ten, too early by her standards. At first, it seemed as though everyone was asleep or gone. Loup considered visiting de Rais, something she hadn't had much chance to do recently. Her studies with him were a bone of contention between the two wolves. Her mate didn't approve and had made it clear that he felt she'd served the Dark too much as it was. Loup's protests that there were few who could teach her anything worth knowing had not made the association more palatable, quite the reverse. She had barely broached the subject before Gregorov waved her off and collapsed onto the couch, book in hand.

De Rais' rooms were next door, hardly a trip at all. The only person who ever made noise in those rooms seemed to be Loup when de Rais had time to mentor her. With only a thin wooden partition between their quarters, Loup had never heard a noise from the other rooms. She knocked and waited. If he were there and willing to share his time, he would let her inside. Next to de Rais' quarters were Paul Wronski's rooms. The only sound in the hall seemed to come from there. Wronski stayed home most of the time, even on weekends. Jones tried to drag him down to the village from time to time, but he rarely went with her. He either spent the weekends catching up on paperwork or reading. Of the four living quarters on that side of the staff room, Loup long suspected that she and Gregorov made the most noise. As she turned to leave, she heard a beat coming from Wronski's rooms, a sort of bass drumming noise, completely out of place in the building. Although she knew there were ways to play music at the school, she didn't know how herself. Music was a distraction that she seldom allowed herself. Wronski's room had a definite beat, with a Latin flair. The sound was intriguing and, feeling only slightly dirty, she pressed her ear to the door to listen. Through the music, she thought she could hear someone laugh and the occasional stomp of a foot and the click of heels. I don't want to know, she thought and broke away from the door.

* * *

It started with an itchy sensation, pulling her from a deep sleep. In a foul mood, she woke scratching at her forearm. The itching rapidly grew worse, forcing her fully awake to see the long scratches red against her pale skin. The binding spell's mark, a fleur-de-lis, was black and pulsing, something she hadn't seen in months. A summons. Gregorov woke with a start when she got out of bed and began sorting through the armoire.

"What are you searching for?"

"My working robes. I've been called. I hope Bette was right and the Headmaster's arranged some work for me. I could use a paying contract!"

In a parody of the arrangement she'd had in Paris, the Headmaster acted as her Mâitre. He accepted the contracts and made the prices for her services. Gregorov called him her pimp once. Only once. If he hadn't understood the relationship between a Dark Mage and the Mâitre des Sorciers before, he'd had it beaten into his brain by the end of the tirade. It made it all very nice and neat in Paris. There, she had a registration number and a representative to the public. Everyone made a profit on the deals. The fools too weak or cowardly to do their own dirty work paid enormous sums of money for a range of services. The Mâitres took their cut and the Mages took the lion's share. True, after the taxes were taken, the amount left looked small, but a powerful Dark Witch could make a very comfortable living. There was, after all, the public list of spells and there were those negotiated after the deal supposedly was complete and all legalities taken care of. If you were very careful and very bold, there was freelance work, too. Very lucrative if you didn't get caught. Disastrous if you did.

Arm burning, she pulled her long black robes around her and rapidly secured all of the hidden closures. There were many, all aimed at having the wool drape just so, obscuring her sex and creating an opulent, yet archaic look. Heavy, but supple leather gloves were tucked into her belt. She'd deal with the hood after she got there.

"I'll be back when I'm released." Half-running, she left the rooms and headed across the snowy grounds, gaining speed with each step. Her arm ached by the time she reached the Great Hall. The spell had a locator aspect to it as well as the summons. It pulled her along in its wake. Throbbing with pain, she pulled the hood over her head and secured it in place. No face showed, only the folds of the fabric. No face, no sex, no name - an anonymous tool. A deep breath to steady herself and then she walked in, gliding across the floor with no visible steps. It had taken months to perfect the motion and the effect was worth it.

Little gasps to her left told her the students had spotted her. Uncomfortable muttering from her right said the professors there had also seen. Why the Great Hall? Why so public? At the center of the room, she stopped and slowly turned to face him. It had to look casual and slow or the effect would be lost.

With his coffee held before him, the Headmaster looked like a bored businessman. He'd seen the display before. Next to his breakfast plate sat a sheaf of papers. The large dark swath at the bottom showed that the contract had already been signed. She made a point of not looking to the left or the right and instead inhaled deeply to catch the foreign scents. Two men sat to the Headmaster's right and another stood in front of the table. The clothing looked expensive - dark suits and pristine white shirts. No wizards' robes or tourist attire, the men looked to be more at home in an office than at the Durmstrang Institute.

"This is the mage?" The German had a soft accent she couldn't place.

"Yes. She will do the work you have contracted for." The Headmaster gestured with his coffee cup before putting it down.

"She? That is a woman?" The man closest to the Headmaster leaned forward to examine her. His accent sounded more familiar.

"You," the standing man said, "we were told that you once worked in Paris. Is this true? And, if so, what was your name and number?"

It was hardly an auspicious beginning. Already feeling defensive, Loup decided to put on a show. "Ostentare meo vox." Whispered, the spell set up the darkness that she filled first by a thought and a push to show her sigil. In French, since it seemed that was what the men expected, appeared: "Loup de l'ombre - Sorcier de l'arts noir #783."

The second man at the table pulled out a list and scanned through it, chuckling when he found what he was looking for. "Dead. You used to work for Mâitre Faucon? The note claims you died on a protection assignment. If the numbers here are correct, you would be forty-seven. Old for that sort of job."

Beneath the hood, she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw until it hurt. Dead. She was dead as far as Paris was concerned. Dead mostly because she had become a problem for her Mâitre. When last he had seen her, she was bleeding to death in the snow. Even the Aurors had been shocked when he had said to leave her there, caring only to retrieve the badge that allowed her to pass through the enchantments that bound Paris. "Yes. Officially I am dead, but I live still."

"Take the hood off. I want to confirm something."

The Headmaster nodded even as she began to follow the instructions. Two closures undone, she pulled it off and made certain to open her eyes as wide as possible. The blackness was always impressive. She wasn't prepared for the man in front of the table to examine her as if she were a horse for sale. He walked around her, taking in the robes and then stopping in front of her to look at her eyes.

"How much is left?" The question sounded vague, but it was quite specific.

"I don't know."

"I have never seen fully black eyes before. Red, yes, but not black. Are you certain there is enough there to work the sorts of magic we need?" The man turned towards the Headmaster for clarification.

"It is there. I have seen her work and watched as the professors of that department make way for her. Her talents are expensive. If the work kills her, there will be a penalty fee."

Loup felt more like a horse all the time. It wasn't like this in Paris. The Mâitre would have been praising her abilities, selling them. Here, all they seemed to care about was collecting extra money if she died.

The one closest to the Headmaster tapped out a cigarette and lit it. Smoking was prohibited inside the castle and the smell was particularly vile. "How Dark are you?"

"The Dark is generous, but never kind," she replied automatically. "It grants, but never serves."

The response seemed to satisfy them as they nodded at each other. The man who stood in front of her stepped back and looked again. "You will need to pack for a week. No robes. Where we are going, they will mark you, not hide you."

"All she ever wears is black." The Headmaster waved off his plate as a servant came by.

"Black is a popular color. It will not look out of place." The standing man looked her over one last time. "Sunglasses will help. You will need to bring whatever you need with you."

"And that is?" Loup mentally began cataloging a list of the basic supplies she had at hand.

"The basics. I know you do not truly need them if you are what they say you are. It just takes more of you." Stepping back to the table, he pulled out a package of cigarettes. Loup silently groaned. No doubt they all smoked. "Go. Return quickly."

"How long will I be away?" She knew she shouldn't ask, it broke protocol, but Gregorov would want to know.

The standing man lit the cigarette and took his time inhaling. "It depends on several things. A week, maybe two. Do you have a schedule?"

"She has a man here. He will want to know." The Headmaster turned to the man next to him. "He will be difficult if she is gone too long."

"True love," the only non-smoker laughed. "I would have thought a professional of your age would know better than that."

* * *

Gregorov was not happy. He stood silently as she packed, growing more distant with each thing she folded up and placed into a suitcase. When she started sorting through her tools, he left. His departure hurt. Hurt her pride and a place within that was already sore. The chalice had to go, as had several bags of herbs, a focusing crystal, a wand of iron, one of crystal, bits of sticks that had other purposes, a dagger... The instructions had been too vague to know what not to pack. Still, she had done similar jobs before. Most of the suitcase went to her tools. She threw extra socks and underwear in a carryon-sized bag.

There was no Gregorov in the staff room. She knocked on Kessler's door. Loud footsteps pounded their way towards the door and, as the door was being opened, she could hear giggling. Kessler cracked the door just enough to look out. "You are going somewhere?"

"I have a client." The giggling grew louder. "He isn't in there, is he?"

A brief flash of sympathy passed over Kessler as he shifted the door slightly. "No. I have not seen him this morning. Is there anything you wish to let him know? A schedule?"

"If I'm not back in two weeks, I'm probably dead. Tell him that. I guess he can keep everything then." She tried sounding as if none of it touched her and was surprised at the ragged sound of her voice.

"Is that all?" The giggling stopped.

"Yes." With that, she hefted her bags and left.

The three men waited at the gates, a blue-black cloud of smoke enveloping them. The language they spoke amongst themselves sounded familiar. A word here and there, mostly useless things, it sounded a little like Gregorov. "Good. You are ready. Two bags. Would one not be enough?"

"You weren't specific about the parameters. I would rather have more than enough than go without." Although it wasn't the first time she had been sent out on a job alone, it was the first time she felt uneasy about it. "Where are we going?"

"Why do you care? You will be paid." They started towards the gates, but Loup stood still.

"I want to know. I've left a message about how long I'll be gone. I don't have to know exactly, I'd like a country, if possible."

"Let us say that it will be very cold. As cold as here." The men seemed cautious and impatient.

"I just want to get this straight, I plan on returning. I won't die for your work." To emphasize her words, she pulsed as much energy as she could for a count.

"You may call me 'Boss'. I have always liked that title." The man who had sat next to the Headmaster smiled. "If that was an example, then you will not have to. You may even bring back more money than you had anticipated."

"Boss," Loup said, nodding at that man. "And you would be Boss numbers two and three, right?"

Boss number two smiled and laughed. "Put your sunglasses on. It will be a long journey."

* * *

Long and varied was a better description. From the village, they took a train. She had expected to use the Portkey in the Ministry offices and had automatically turned to head that way. The train was not that direction at all. She felt like a lost child by the time they arrived at the station and bought tickets. Four hours in that train, they changed to another and then from there to an airport. It was gritty traveling with the men. They smoked constantly and wore too much cologne. Loup's head throbbed in time with her heart by the time they took a small, private plane east.

The airport was surprisingly modern and clean. It was no surprise that all of the writing, except for some advertising, was in Cyrillic. The men broke up after disembarking, leaving her with Boss number two. He ordered a cab and they sat ignoring each other for another hour until the they were let off on a major road lined with gleaming rows of white apartments. None of this was what she expected. The streets glistened in the streetlights as bus after bus whirred over the cobblestones.

Loup's stomach growled loudly enough to catch the man's attention. "Late, no? Long past lunch." He lit yet another cigarette and then walked towards one of the nondescript apartment buildings. Up three floors and down a long hallway. The suitcase grew increasingly heavy and the carryon bag had banged a bruise onto her hip.

The apartment was much nicer inside than she expected. Sparsely decorated, it had the feel of a place where no one really lived, just waited. How appropriate. She was shown to a bedroom that overlooked the street. Nothing was in the room except a bed. The heavy bags were left there. A bathroom was close enough, two doors away from her room. A quick search though the kitchen's cupboards showed they held an assortment of canned foods and not much else. Bottles of vodka and whiskey filled one cupboard near the sink. Boss number two stood at a window, still smoking.

"Food?" Loup asked.

"Soon. The first part of your contract will start tomorrow. It does not matter what time you work, does it? You are not one of those who has to have the moon in the correct phase or a star in a certain constellation?"

"No. Not really. Some spells do work better with a new moon, but it doesn't usually matter. It does matter if I'm starving to death."

Boss laughed, opened the window and tossed the butt out. "We will feed you. You will need your strength for what we have planned. It is hard to find reliable talent."

Silence seemed to be the best response. She looked out the window and admired the view of the river that wound through the city. Boxy buildings strode along its banks, occasionally broken by a small park or street. Everything looked very new.

"Where are we?"

"If you read my language, you would know." The man smiled thinly and held out a hand to usher her out. "We will eat and then you will rest."

* * *

The kind of work the bosses wanted was very familiar. Boss Three arrived in the morning with a clanking, square-bottomed briefcase. Loup was instructed to look at the contents. Test tubes of blood held in a wire rack and labeled in the now-hated Cyrillic letters waited. Two vials of clear fluid were also there as well as a pale yellow, viscous fluid in a jar. Everything was very fresh. Two of the test tubes were still warm.

She spread the contents out on the table and then looked up at the men, waiting for orders. Boss One unfolded a sheaf of papers and smoothed them out. Instructions for each tube were written out in Cyrillic and then carefully translated out in another hand into German. It was incredibly efficient.

"How long will it take for you to do all of this?" It was the first time she heard trepidation in any of them.

The list was long and very detailed. She ignored the question and read the list of requirements, immediately wishing that she had brought more of some things, less of others and none of a lot of it. Still not speaking, she matched characters on the list to characters on the tubes. The jar had nothing on it. She held it up to the overhead light and looked carefully at it, swirling it a little. "This has the shortest viability. There's no name to match with the list. If this sample is to be used, it should be done first. The blood is good for days. Semen degrades faster."

Boss Three looked embarrassed and cleared his throat. "This is an extra assignment. A personal one shall we say. I would pay you separately from the agreed fee."

Unsurprised, Loup drummed her fingers. "There are a lot of different things you can do with this fluid, but I'm going to take a wild guess here and say you want this fellow to never be able to..." she trailed off, pointed her finger and then let it drop.

"No, nothing that radical. I want that his line ends with him. That he never fathers a child. The books say it can be done. Can it?" Boss Three began searching for a cigarette.

Why is my entire life riddled with kids and proto kids? "Yes, it can be done. It's a big job. I won't be able to do much else for at least a day if I do this first. Is that going to be ok?"

Boss Three nodded enthusiastically while the others looked bored.

"I will need a few things, though."

"Yes, yes. What things?"

"One, food. I want bread, cheese, apples, meat, food. I eat breakfast, lunch and dinner as well as an occasional snack. As far as I can tell, none of you do. You just smoke. Two, no smoking when I work. It gives me a headache. Three, for this particular spell, I want you to give me some of your blood at a critical point." Loup took the cigarette out of Boss Three's hand and used it as a pointer at him.

"My blood? Me? I thought you could do it yourself. The book claims you can."

"I could, but this is a personal vendetta. For it to be most effective, part of it should come from you." A lie, but she no longer felt the urge to give up a piece of herself for someone else's petty evil. "If you cooperate, this could be done by lunchtime. I prefer chicken to pork and I like that dark bread, if you can find it. Chocolate would be good, too. Give me a few hours to rest. I might be able to work again tonight, but probably not for best results. Ok?"

"Do you want to go with us for your groceries or do you trust us to do it?" Boss Two looked annoyed, clearing wanting to continue with the work.

"I expect to eat well. I'll go with you this afternoon, but I need to eat before I start this." With the work in front of her, she felt in control. "Coffee, bread, butter. I like yogurt and fruit." She picked the rack of blood up and took it to the refrigerator. "This will keep it more stable." Then she turned back. "Coffee, bread, maybe something sweet. Ok? You two may not want to be here today. The work has a certain smell to it. Most people don't like it. If you have access to a good, strong fan, that would help."

The men left muttering, "Coffee, bread..."

As soon as the door closed, Loup walked over to stand in front of Boss Three. "We should discuss price."

* * *

The hallway reeked of death. Loup offered to stop her work and try to dissipate the smell. Boss Two informed her that no one lived on the top two floors. They were the only ones there. Boss Three wasn't the only one with personal business. They all had samples of someone they hated. The work was every bit as dark as any she had ever done. Nothing directly fatal, there were better ways to do that. Control seemed to be the issue. Tricky work from a distance, one requiring sheer power and control; subtlety was not an issue. The days marched by in a series of vignettes. Little dramas played out by increasingly anxious bosses.

On the fifty day, in the middle of the clean up and dispersal of energies, a fourth man burst into the room. Guns that had been unseen before were slowly put away when he was recognized. There was a problem. They had to move. They had to leave now. Loup's belongings received a rough packing. One man grabbed her suitcase, forcing her to run after him to keep up. A succession of cars, cabs and a subway ride were endured until Boss One declared they were done. The street the stairs led them to looked similar to the other one, only the river was on the wrong side.

Instead of the top floor, this time they set up in a dingy room on the second floor. Loup looked it over, unimpressed. It was one small room, containing a table with two chairs, two hideous sofas and a television. The air didn't circulate well. It would saturate everything with the smell. When she mentioned the possibility, the fourth man spat, saying nothing. Boss One shrugged. "This is the safest place. Here is where you will work."

It was a definite step down. The table felt grimy. Every surface felt dirty in one way or another. She lost an entire day of work cleaning it. When the fourth man complained, she threatened him, something none of them expected. Another day was lost as she tried to get the air to flow better and take the scent away. The room seemed to be designed to frustrate magic, not help it. Whatever good temper she had was lost during that day. As a testimony to her frustration, meals appeared early and a box of chocolates showed up at lunch.

The cycle of spells and rest resumed. The tubes of blood slowly advanced through their line. In the gray void of the limbo she worked in, one day or night, just before she began what was required for that particular sample, it occurred to her that time stood still. "How long have I been here?"

Boss Two looked up from a magazine. "Almost ten days."

Loup closed her eyes. No wonder she felt drained. That was a very long time to do this sort of work, longer than she had ever worked before. "Have you been able to verify my results? You only have my reputation."

Boss Two didn't answer; when Loup looked up, she noted the cold look of satisfaction on his face. His cheeks jumped in a smile that disappeared immediately.

At the end of that spell, she lolled back in her chair, eyes closed, exhausted. "Ten days?"

Boss Two grunted, not bothering to verbalize an answer.

"This is a big contract. Am I being paid by the target?"

Boss Two set down the garish men's magazine he was oogling. "What does it matter? You will be here until you are finished."

Loup opened her eyes. Boss Two was glaring at her, uneasy and angry. "I've already completed what I was contracted for, haven't I?" He sneered, dark brows beetling. "I thought so. I expect to be paid for the extra work."

"Yeah, sure. Are you hungry? You must be. You always are."

"I need to get a message back to Durmstrang. Can you do that?"

"Why?"

"My mate will worry. He needs to know." Loup noted the lack of a response and a niggling worry itched. "The Headmaster, my boss," she forced her eyes open to stare at Boss Two and smile or rather grimace, "also expects me to return within a few days."

Boss Two shrugged.

* * *

Things were not adding up in Loup's accounting. The three Bosses all seemed to have been in step with what she thought was the plan. It was only after the fourth man appeared that things had changed. The fourth man seemed to show up every other day or so. "Seemed" because Loup was frequently too tired to truly focus on her surroundings. Too much Dark magic, too often, too little time to recuperate. It was taking its toll on her.

The tubes of blood slowly disappeared. Each spell completed, the tube was destroyed. Another empty spot in the rack. She counted the tubes remaining. Four. She'd already done the extra work for the men, work she already knew she wouldn't be paid for, and had a nagging suspicion that she wouldn't be paid for the extra victims that each tube represented.

Each day, there would be a different one of the trio there to watch her. The Bosses, it became clear, were only lieutenants in some unknown army. They took orders from the fourth man who took orders elsewhere. The fourth man was getting more agitated each time he arrived to check in. She wasn't working fast enough; he was getting frightened.

The apartment had been tightly shuttered and had the curtains drawn when they arrived. Loup had no idea whether it was night or day. What she did understand now was that this place had shielding built into it. There was a reason it took so much effort to push the energies to their work. If she had a destination she could picture clearly and could try to Apparate, the odds were it would be impossible.

It wasn't the fact that she had been set up that bothered her; it was how easily it had been done. She'd trusted the Headmaster to act as she had trusted her Mâitre. The deals in Paris had been such that it reflected poorly upon someone like Faucon should anything like this happen. Everyone lost. Here, only she did.

Lying still on one of the ugly sofas, she kicked herself for the money she would lose on the deal. If she could return to Durmstrang, she would get her share of the contract money, but she had to get there. The problem was she had no idea where she was or how to get back to the village where the Portkey was kept. There were permanent Portkeys all over Europe, but you had to know where they were. Not every city had them and their frequency decreased the further east you went. The lettering on the signs alone clued her that she was somewhere inside the former USSR. Not good. Still, there had been an airport and that was a start.

Money was the next consideration. She had none. By the light of the television, she watched as Boss Two dozed. Every day, they brought food to her. The quality and variety depended on whose turn it had been. Boss One had expensive tastes. Boss Three the cheapest and Boss Two brought whatever she had had the last time. Their suits were all expensive. She'd evaluated their shoes, too, and decided that appearance was important within the group. Whether this area was a cash society was the question.

Boss Two slept too lightly. He woke immediately when she rose. Looking as tired as she felt, she staggered past him on the way to the toilet. He watched her until the door shut and she half expected he could see her through the door. There were ways around that. She turned the shower on and decided to take her time. The water pressure dropped at times, but it was pounding now. The experience liberated her mind from its funk. She left it running while she dried off and dressed. White noise, the ultimate sleep inducer.

Boss Two was dozing again when she opened the door. In the flickering light of the television, she could see a thin stream of drool cross his cheek. His hand twitched on the remote in time to the score the movie played. "Somnus." They took her wand each time she finished working. They knew the things were important, but they had no idea how much or how little. If she ever made it back to Durmstrang, she would have to thank de Rais for making her work on focusing her magic without a wand.

Snores tore from Boss Two's mouth as he slumped in the chair. Loup took her time and checked through all of his pockets. Everything had to go back exactly where it had been. She wasn't ready to act yet. His wallet held a large sum of cash, or at least she thought it did. The currency wasn't anything she had ever seen before. It was the credit cards that held her attention. Those could be of more use than money. There was a gun holstered under his armpit and another in a coat pocket. The sight was enough to send her into a shuddering fit. She knew little of how to deal with that darkness. Magic couldn't stop bullets and she had never fired a gun nor did she plan on doing so now. There was a key to the door and a key to the outside door. Loose change and scraps of paper. Nothing she could read. It was enough to know what to expect in that man's pockets.

She spent the rest of the night working out an elaborate logic puzzle of which man would be the best to take and why. It was too late to act now. If there were four tubes left, she guessed at most she had four days, but possibly not. The guns complicated her puzzle. They limited the times she could act. It was time to leave this world and return to the safer one.

When Boss Three arrived, Loup didn't have to fake how exhausted she felt. Losing a night's sleep darkened the circles under her eyes and she stopped fighting the tremor in her hands. The three of them ate breakfast in silence. She got a friendly pat on the head from Boss Two when he left. Just like you pat a dog when it's being good. That set a sour taste to her day.

The current vial of blood and its assignment seemed to take everything out of her. Yawning through the incantation didn't help send the magic to where it needed to go. Slamming her hands onto the table to get Boss Three's full attention, she announced she needed to sleep for a few hours and would work then. Boss Three wasn't happy at all and the fourth man seemed to materialize out of nothing. His rapid arrival convinced her she needed to leave earlier than she had intended.

Boss Three kept asking questions as to whether she could complete the assignments. He didn't seem to believe it when she insisted she could. Weighted glances were exchanged between the two men and, eventually, the fourth man left. Loup could hear the timer start. How long did she have before the orders came? An hour? Two? The next day? Her bet was twelve hours, but she wasn't ready to commit to that time.

Boss Three was awake. Not in the slightest bit sleepy. He wouldn't leave for lunch; instead, the fourth man arrived with a pathetic tray of sandwiches and bruised apples. The decline in fare told the story. Definitely time to leave. She picked the meat out of the sandwich and played with the apple. Eventually, the fourth man threw down some chocolate bars and grunted some sort of message to Boss Three. Loup ate two of the chocolate bars and did the spell as if it required no energy at all. The tension dropped noticeably.

Pretending to sleep was almost impossible. Boss Three had opened the curtains and a set of shutters to look out a window. The room was clearly reflected and his eyes passed often in her direction. She gave up and took a real nap to wake and find him dozing, too. There was no clue how long it would be before dinner arrived. Meals seemed to show up when she was awake and no other time. Obviously, there was a way they knew. It felt to her that it was time to leave now, not later.

Without knowing how they knew what happened in the room, she decided speed was in order. Her bags lay in disarray around her, but suddenly their contents weren't as important as they had been. With the exception of her wand, everything was easy to replace if she really tried. True, she'd miss some of the tools, but living was more important.

Boss Three stirred, beginning to wake. Now or never. "Imperio!" she sent the curse with all the strength she had left, grinning when it actually rocked him. He looked happy, relaxed when she approached him. "My wand! Give it to me now!" That went easily enough, he made little effort to resist as he reached into his coat, opening it enough to show the butt of the gun. "Give me the gun," she ordered. The conflict shown as he struggled against the order, his face turned red with the effort as his hand removed the first gun and gave it to her. "The other, give it to me." She thought he would black out as he tried to resist. The second gun was handed over with the first. She had no idea at all what to do with the weapons, so she opened the window and threw them out. Better they were of no use to either of them. Plunging her hand into the inside pocket of his coat, she pulled out her wand. The thin length was a weapon she understood. "We're leaving."

She grabbed her coat and made the mistake of looking back at her bags. The tools would be hard to replace. Precious seconds ticking, she stuffed everything she could into the carryon, as well as the few pairs of clean socks and underwear she had left. Being dirty was something she couldn't abide.

It was later than she had anticipated when they stepped outside. The fresh air was almost a narcotic, sending her spirits flying. The cobbled streets glistened again under the streetlights, but this time they were empty. No busses, no taxis and only an occasional car. Boss Three managed a smile. "How are you going to escape?"

"I'll walk if I have to. Where's the nearest taxi stand?"

"You think there is one? Why?"

Loup paused. Of course, there was one. There always was. The city was too large not to have some sort of transportation for rent. "Lead me to where we can get a car."

He shook in place for a few seconds as he fought. Then, he moved along the street, trying to walk as slowly as possible. Loup shoved his back to make him move faster. The trap was closing; she could feel it. Without him, she could move quicker, but she wasn't ready to be rid of him yet. He could still be useful.

A car squealed around a corner behind her. She dragged her victim into a doorway, his back to the street and looked around him. A boxy white sedan screeched to a halt at the apartment building they'd been in and two men ran out. She didn't recognize either of them, but it was clear enough to her who they were after. The car sat running at the curb. "Drive me to the airport," she ordered.

Driving seemed to be something the curse reacted oddly with. He drove, but he made it difficult for her to control him. Without knowing where he was going, it was a long fight. When she saw the airplane icon, she finally relaxed. She could tell him where to turn and how to go. He tried not braking at the very last, almost putting them into a wall. It was a very unpleasant trip.

The airport presented another problem. No papers. No passport. No identification at all. She hadn't needed any for years. The little she had used was kept in Paris and was undoubtedly stamped "deceased". Her US passport had expired years ago and she'd never bothered to apply for French citizenship. No papers. No ticket. Boss Three's smile grew larger as he watched her try to puzzle that one out.

"Money! Get me money!" She shoved him towards an ATM and waited. He took the card out and shoved it in, but didn't key in the code. "Now! I need money now!"

Police moved behind her on a routine sweep and Loup could smell the sick smell of fear on herself. "Move. Walk down the hallway." The hallway led away from the concourse, down towards the baggage claim. The smell of old machinery and plane exhaust wafted in through the strips of rubber used to control the bags. An open door to an office made a bright rectangle in a corner. Loup shoved him that way. It seemed they had found the place where lost luggage was left to molder. Bags, trunks, a set of skis and an assortment of backpacks ringed the room. No attendant was present. How Dark was she? She shoved him into a locker and took his wallet. Every pocket was searched for any sign of money. In the wallet, she found three credit cards, two ATM cards and some sort of cardkey. "What's the code for this one?" She held up the first ATM card. Boss Three laughed. It was the last time he would.

Subtlety was never what she was good at. Strength was. As she stripped him of his mind, forced him to tell her what the codes were for each card, she could imagine Gregorov sighing and telling her this was not what she was good at. True, but she had no time to learn how to do it well or cleverly. All she wanted was the information and keeping him sane or alive meant nothing. There was little left by the time she wrung the last number from him. The mindless husk, she locked into the long locker meant to hold skis and left. They'd find him eventually; the smell would be the first clue.

The first ATM was busy. It had a line of four waiting. The second had only one person trying to get their card to work. When he left, she slid the first card in and keyed the numbers. The display held a wealth of information that she couldn't read. Taking a wild guess, she pressed a button and watched as numbers lined up next to buttons. She choose the largest and pressed its button. Wonders of wonders! Money spat out. She repeated the exercise until an indecipherable response blinked on the screen. One problem was taken care of.

She crowded herself and her bag into the darkest corner she could find while she tried to come up with a plan. The ticket counters were almost empty at the early or late hour. She couldn't speak the language and she couldn't read the signs. She had no identification at all. Armed guards occasionally walked by, reminding her of other consequences. It was not looking good. The arrival of Boss One and a squad of men forced her hand. The airport was not the way out.

The four men spread out in the airport. Loup watched as one approached a ticket counter, another went towards the gates, the third boldly walked into the women's bathroom, while the fourth headed towards the baggage claim. She slunk outside, hoping for inspiration. It was there in the form of a bus. The door made a hydraulic hiss as the driver opened it. Caught at a loss, Loup blinked stupidly at the man. "Train?" she asked in German. The driver yawned and nodded. Holding up three fingers, he indicated she should sit. It was a long life's worth of minutes before the doors closed and the almost-empty bus jerked forward.

She felt incredibly empty as the bus spiraled slowly out of the airport and merged with the freeway. The whole thing had been an awful nightmare. She wasn't sure it was over yet. The driver coughed out a question to her in a language she didn't understand. "Repeat." Again an incomprehensible question, but she thought she had the gist of it "Brussels," she said. The driver laughed and launched into a long explanation that was lost on her. "Warsaw?" The driver nodded. Apparently, Warsaw was a destination that was acceptable.

The train station was not nearly as pleasant as the airport. Stagnant cigarette smoke saturated the building. Shifty-eyed men lounged in the shadows and bored prostitutes looked up only to look away. Not a customer for either. The shifting destination boards seemed to twinkle up new cities on an irregular basis. It took three tries before she found an agent who spoke German. She had forgotten to try French and cursed herself when, as she passed by, the first agent she had tried responded to a query in French.

No one bothered to verify the credit card against any id. She hoped its magic would hold out when she arrived in Poland. A small food stall was open in a far too bright corner of the station. She purchased a cup of coffee and a dubious roll. After one bite, she tossed the roll away. The shadows she would have normally hid in were already occupied. Pillars near the platforms weren't quite wide enough to obscure her. She found a bench close to one and pulled two trashcans around to block the view from the back.

His cologne gave him away in barely enough time. Loup had finished her coffee and had commenced tearing the cup apart to kill the time when it assailed her nose. After too many days in close confinement with the men, she knew all their scents. Heavy, musky colognes seemed to be de rigeur and each man had worn something slightly different. The fourth man's choice was particularly heavy. She froze and inhaled again. Close. Too close. The train had yet to arrive. There was no good place to go. As the smell got closer, she began to panic. The platform was too open, too easy for people to see her. She might get one, maybe two, but how many were there? How many "helpful" citizens might get in the way? She didn't care that they might die, too; she was worried they could identify her or delay her long enough for whatever posed as Aurors to arrive. A soft darkness beckoned. The areas next to the tracks looked like a possibility. She could hide there. As if the idea had been telegraphed, lights suddenly flicked on. The entire area became brighter than day. In the distance, a dog barked. Soon, there was no woman, just a large black wolf who hoped she could pass for a dog. An old man sat nodding next to his sleeping wife. She crept over to where they sat and lay down, pretending to be a family pet.

The fourth man and two others seemed to come from all sides. They circled around the platform, alarming the old man. One aimed a kick at her, but she scooted under the metal bench. With a hoot of victory, one of the lackeys found her carryon and hollered she was near. Caught perhaps by her own greed, she wished she'd spent money on an invisibility cloak instead of all the pretty tools of her trade. More men pounded their way towards them. The wolf eyes weren't as sharp as her human ones, but her nose cataloged the collection of men and her ears sorted through voices. Six? Eight? Too many, that was certain.

As the men fanned out, the train hummed to the platform to take its place there. Men swarmed onto the train. She could hear their feet run down the cars and the occasional shout of anger from a passenger. When the old man helped his wife to her feet, Loup knew she had to hope that his vision was as poor as it had looked behind thick glasses. Trying to look like an obedient pet, she trailed two steps behind and waited patiently while he helped her up the steps and then wobbled up himself. The station attendant sighed loudly when she followed. In any language, it was the same. "Damn dogs." Still, he didn't throw her off the train and ignored her when she lay down in the entryway. When the train began to rock forward to leave, Loup realized that she didn't have to spend money on the ticket at all.

It took one change at Baranavicy to get to Warsaw. After the third stop, she allowed herself the luxury of transforming back to a person. She hogged the bathroom for a half-hour washing up. She had to make the best out of what she was wearing. Warsaw was closer than she thought. It only took a few hours to get there. About the time she began to let the rhythm of the train rock her to sleep, it was time to get off.

Once there, she was lost. From Gregorov, she knew that there were two small "magic areas", places where she could buy supplies or do business. She needed to find one of those, but she mostly needed to buy some clean clothes. The magic credit cards worked wonders. Avoiding the more reputable places, she toured a succession of not-so-nice shops, buying a bag first and then filling it with the bare necessities. She kept her head down until she could buy a new pair of sunglasses, worried that someone would see her eyes before she could hide them.

Finding any of the little magical areas in a strange town was difficult, even if you knew where you were going. One of the four entrances to Paris' le quartier magique was close to the Sorbonne, another by the Concierge, a third under a bridge along the Seine and the last no longer operated. But, you had to know where they were or have someone show you. Although she had lived in Europe for over twenty years, she had only rarely left Paris. She'd been taken through a few centers by her Mâitre on contracts, but had never been by herself. Knowing there were places wasn't the same as knowing where they were. After an hour of walking around, it was clear she wasn't going to find either area easily.

After she changed money at a very suspect exchange kiosk, she bought herself the nicest lunch she could. The food helped, the coffee more. Over her third cup, she tried laying out a plan. She needed to find a Portkey. Finding Durmstrang meant finding a Portkey. It annoyed her, but she needed to find an Auror or a Cerebor or some official who could guide her. The concept that one of them would help was almost enough to make her laugh. Almost. Enough time had passed that Gregorov should be worried about her. And that thought brought another less pleasant one. Maybe he wasn't worried at all? He hadn't even said goodbye. Maybe he was glad she was gone.

The possibilities chased each other. Whatever good mood Loup had left vanished as the loop replayed. She paid for her meal and then wandered out, once again in search for a Ministry office. The search radius expanded until she entered a shopping district. Beautiful coats graced one window. It seemed only fair that she should treat herself after such an awful experience. And, it wouldn't be long before someone realized the credit card wasn't hers. The coat was long and made of black cashmere. Her cloak had always looked out-of-place in this world, but the coat would look good no matter where she was. The first card was refused. Loup tried forcing a smile on her face and handed another over. The clerk never stopped making polite chitchat as she handed over the paper to be signed. The first card wasn't returned. That was clue enough it was time to move on.

Getting to Brussels was more convoluted that she had thought. It was doable, though. With the wad of exchanged money, she stuffed the pockets of her new coat with candy and food for the train. She hadn't had money to spend freely for far too long. She grabbed up a copy of Le Monde and settled in for a long train ride.

Not even the lovely new coat kept her spirits up as the hours passed. By the time she arrived in Brussels, she felt filthy and hunted around the station until she found the showers. The attendant was polite, but they didn't accept that currency. Another money-losing exchange later, she could luxuriate in a hot shower and clean socks. Brussels was loaded with more distractions. It was a compact city with far too many stores. With her stolen credit card ready, she hit three before the card was taken from her. After that, she tried the ATMs again, gathering up as much money as she could from them. The last machine refused to spit the plastic back out.

Winter fashions seemed to have a lot of black that year. She purchased a few changes of clothing and then began her hunt for a Ministry office in earnest. The setting sun mirrored her frustration. As it sank, so did her spirits. She'd been around the old town several times and found nothing. No shadowy doorways, no tingle of magic, no clues. Even if he wasn't worried about her, maybe de Rais was. Someone should be.

It seemed appropriate that she should run into Jan Massys against a green backdrop. Dressed as he was, she would have walked by him without seeing him. With a packet of correspondence under an arm, he leaned against a billboard advertising a sports drink. Framed in green, he looked bored.

She'd seen him a few times before. Not often. Of the local Aurors, she'd encountered Johannes Werner the most often and he only a handful of times. Keeping out of their view was something she worked hard at. She would have missed Massys altogether except he suddenly rubbed as his forehead and hissed, "Stop it." That was unusual enough to stop her for anyone. People don't usually talk to their foreheads. The erratic pulse of power made her freeze where she was. Werner climbed out of a stairwell that seemed to be part of a low wall. Loup looked for the clue that it was there at all it was so well hidden. When the sun finished dipping behind the buildings, leaving all in shadows, she could finally see the stairs down.

Werner and Massys talked for a bit. Massys seemed eager to go, but Werner had other things to attend to. There was a brief battle of wills as to who was going where. Massys wanted to go home; Werner wanted to visit someone; neither seemed to be allowed to do so alone. To her, it sounded like childish bickering until Massys started assuring Werner that he would go straight back and not stop. Werner made him repeat it twice before leaving. As soon as Werner turned the corner, Massys walked across the street and into a bar. Amused and intrigued, Loup followed.

The bar was awash in the smell of dark beer. Massys took a table far in the back, away from the doorway. It would be impossible to see him unless one entered the bar and went at least half way into it. Loup took a table behind him and watched as the waiter brought an enormous bottle of Chimay. She ordered a bottle of water and watched.

Over the next three hours, Massys consumed six of the bottles. Loup kept count, not able to keep up with water. He didn't eat; he just drank, visibly relaxing with each bottle. She balanced a menu to hide her hands and cast a Desicerne spell to see what was going on. It didn't work the way she had hoped it would, it just showed that magic was present, but what magic! She had expected a sort of yellow shine and instead saw an electric band of yellow and green with spots of blue. Almost unbelievable. People don't have that sort of energy. None that she had ever seen. As he grew calmer, she repeated the spell, watching the spots of blue slowly dissipate. If ever there was a person in need of one of the so-called reducer spells, magic that stripped you of your powers, he was one. If half of what she saw was gone, he would have more raw power than most. She didn't know what to make of it, but she knew an opportunity when she saw one.

She listened to Massys when he talked to the waiter. They spoke Dutch, another language she didn't understand, but there was no slurring to his speech. He just seemed calmer. He switched beers after the sixth and drank something with a sour fruit smell to it. Then, something else that she woke up for just to note he was still there. While it was fascinating, it wasn't getting what she had hoped it would. She needed identification to use the Portkey and she had none. She'd hoped to use him, but he wasn't drunk enough to manipulate.

It was getting very late. Her eyes burned and she longed for a nice warm bed, preferably with her mate in it. Massys seemed intent on staying until he was thrown out. Unable to generate a good plan, she gave up. At worst, she was stuck and would have to figure out how to take public transportation to get to the village. At best, who knew?

Clutching her bag, she creakily rose from her table and approached Massys. He didn't seem surprised in the least to see her. "I'd like to go to Durmstrang. Are you returning soon?"

"How long have you been behind me? At least two hours, perhaps longer. It must have been quite boring to sit there in the dark. But, then, your kind does that a great deal." Massys poured the last of the current bottle into his glass. "You have no papers. No identification. The Cerebors will not let you pass without them. A problem, no?"

"You were supposed to return immediately after Werner left you. No beer. A problem, no?" Loup replied sarcastically.

"Ah, true. Johannes will not be pleased. I am his, what is the expression? Problem child. You are a thorn in his side. We are both not what we should be. Cheers." He took a long swallow of the almost-black brew. "Now, I will make you a bargain."

Loup shifted her weight from foot to foot. Yet another thing that was not working the way she had anticipated. "A bargain?"

"Yes, a bargain. You see, I am most curious about several things. I believe you could perhaps clarify a few items for me. You will humor me, yes?" Massys leaned against the wall, sitting sideways in a slouch. Straight, dark hair threatened to fall into his eyes as he looked up at her. "When you sent that woman into the receptive state, you did not know what you were doing, no?"

Loup's face fell. How had he tied to her to that? Her mouth worked, but no words came out.

"How do we," he smiled and then corrected himself, "how do I know?" He looked away and spun the bottle around using the tip of his finger. "Professor Gregorov knew nothing about it. The detection spells I used made that quite clear. He knew of the technique, but does not use it. Now, who else might know such things? Well, Professor Kessler might. The woman was neither young enough nor pretty enough to have elicited his interest. It is not his style. Our records show some familiarity on the topic, but we have nothing that even hints he has used any kind of memory charms since his arrival quite some time ago. Also, that was not the technique that they used in East Germany. Their procedures were taken from the Soviets. I would have expected something more in the lines of what Professor Gregorov described to me. After those two, that leaves one other that we know of and he does not wish to engage in those areas again. If he did, he would work for us, not operate on his own. Pity that Johannes has been unable to recruit him. The major players having been considered and discarded, that left an amateur. More possibilities, but the depth the poor woman had been sunk spoke of power and a certain callousness. Had I not known of you, I might have thought Professor Jones. Possible. However, she is trying to be very good these days. The charms of Hans." Massys smirked and seemed to enjoy a certain image. "So, it must be you. You have the strength, access to information and a certain predilection towards work of this nature. Therefore, it had to be you."

Loup walked around the table and sat down facing him. "No, I didn't know what I was doing. I tried something out of a book."

"Why did you leave her so? So cruel to leave her just lying there." He waved a finger back in forth admonishing her.

"I thought it would wear off soon. I didn't realize she had gone under so deeply." Loup winced. "I didn't know it would last that long."

"It is a fair enough answer." He stared up at the dark ceiling. "Have you mastered it yet?"

Loup followed his example and stared off at the ceiling, seeing nothing of interest. "No. I thought I had, but I haven't."

"You do not have the temperament for it."

"So I've been told."

"Join me in a last drink?" Massys held up a hand to catch the waiter's eye. "Ah, that is right. You do not hold your liquor well. Perhaps an apfelsaft gespritzed." He saw her confused look. "Apple juice in club soda. Better in the summer."

* * *

Massys turned out to be a chatterbox. Loup wasn't certain what the boundaries were for questions. Once started, he was a nonstop talker, a teller of tales and bad jokes. He didn't need any encouragement. He nattered on about people she didn't know all the way down the stairs to the offices, though the long hallways, past the desk to the Portkey room that he and she were waved through, through the next two Portkey rooms all the way to the last stop. There, he suddenly stood straight and sobered considerably.

The Cerebors on duty snapped to attention when he appeared. Loup sniggered a bit as the two guards sweated while Massys slowly signed in and then checked their log. Neither of them had consumed an ocean of booze nor had they disobeyed orders that she could see. Finally satisfied that everything was correct, he made a show of ordering her to follow him. The sham was such that she had to clamp her jaw shut to keep from laughing out loud.

The crisp alpine air seemed to sing of a sweet homecoming. She pulled off her sunglasses and enjoyed the sight of the familiar streets. As she started to turn automatically towards the tavern, Massys mentioned casually, "It is after hours."

Loup threw her head back and sighed. "How many hours until I can get in?"

Massys clucked once. "I would assume that you could get in any time you wished - illegally. Legally, not for at least seven more hours." When she groaned, he smiled. "However, just this once, I will let you in and disable the alarm. I fear that keeping you away much longer will result in problems at the school. Your Professor Gregorov has been showing signs of becoming trouble again. He needs a," Massys' grin split his face, "moderating influence. For some reason, you appear to fill that role. None of us can fathom it."