Need

Chapter 4

Tired and grumpy, Rose Jones sorted through her satchel, looking for her lighter. Classes were done for the day and the lure of a few hours of quiet was overwhelming. Still hunting for the lost lighter, she muttered her key phrase and opened the door to her office. With one foot, she kicked the door closed while she shifted the satchel onto her hip and dug into the corners of the cluttered depths.

A chair screeched in front of her. Jones' head jerked up, her lip curled into a snarl. Loup slouched low in a chair at Jones' desk reading. Black eyes looked up from the text. "You have an excellent collection. I especially like this one." Stifling a yawn, Loup held up a book, which strongly reeked of past spells. The dark binding seemed to meld with the dark mage's gloved hands.

"I didn't give you permission to go through my library," Jones growled and slammed her satchel down onto the desktop.

The briefest of sneers flitted over Loup's face. "My apologies. I have very little to do until I'm called. I thought I would do some reading while I was waiting. Your library is very good. You must have been collecting for years. I've only seen this book once before and it was a poor photocopy." She closed the odiferous text and removed her gloves. "Would you prefer it if I remained out of your quarters except when you're around?" Black eyes turned in Jones' direction. The face was expressionless.

Jones stared back, caught off guard by the offer. Clearing her throat, she fished out her cigarettes and proceeded to light one. She smiled as she took a deep drag, watching the other woman's nose wrinkle in disgust. "You can read them, I guess. I don't like people handling my stuff." She inhaled again and let the smoke out in a long stream. "I've never met anyone else who did the same things I do, though. Not sure if I like it."

"I understand. I don't expect to be here more than a week, perhaps less, but I don't really know. You shouldn't have to put up with me for too much longer." A feral look crept over Loup's face. "Who knows, maybe Gregorov will be more submissive after I've left. I like hunting with him, but I don't want him."

"What makes you think I do?" Jones' voice was cool, but she looked away as she stuffed her cigarettes back into her satchel.

"I spend a lot of time as a wolf. Too much time, probably. I can smell it." Loup rested her elbows on the desk, propping her chin up on her hands. "If I was looking for a mate, I wouldn't be looking here."

"What's wrong with Gregorov? Other than he drinks too much, has a bad temper and a mean streak? Oh, and he's a slob. I'd think you'd be interested since he's another wolf Animagus. Doesn't that count?" Jones finished her cigarette and automatically reached for another only to be forced to dig the pack back out of her satchel.

"When my mate died, I looked for another wolf. It's difficult enough to find other Animagi and shopping for a specific kind doesn't make it any easier. I did meet a few. Neither of them had the status I need. I'm too dominant for most. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but the lesser wolves don't interest me. A man alone doesn't fulfill all of my needs. I can't explain it in any terms that make sense. It's part of the wolf that's also me. Gregorov the person doesn't interest me any more than Gregorov the wolf. I don't care to compete with you on that level. Now, professionally, that might be another matter." She put a glove back on and stroked the book on the desk. "We do much the same work. It's almost a pity that we're both so competitive."

Jones finished her second cigarette, stubbed it out and took her coat off. "I still don't understand why you're on such a destructive path." She picked up a stack of folders and books off the guest chair and chucked them under the chair. She sat down and slowly reclined against the backrest. "I've gotta ask. In all my years I've never seen eyes like yours. I've seen red pupils. Even saw one person with totally red eyes, but never black." She tilted her head to one side as she weighed what she saw. "You've been busy. The work takes its toll. The big spells want a piece of someone for the Dark stuff. So, I have to ask: why?"

The silence hung for a long time. Loup stared at the door as if waiting for it to open and let her escape. Eventually, she sat back into the chair and spoke as if speaking about someone else. "You can have a lone wolf, but it would always prefer to be in a pack. Supposedly, we mate for life, but I think it's more like serial monogamy myself." She allowed herself a twisted smile. " I didn't even like my mate. We fought all the time. Well, most of the time. His wife certainly didn't like me and neither did his mistress, but we were together for twenty years. We'd fight and try to leave each other every few months, but that never lasted. Neither of us liked it, but that was the way it was. When he died, I felt like someone tore me apart. Nothing mattered any more."

Loup sighed and leaned way back in the chair, making it squeak in protest. "I swear the clients can smell it when someone like me is around. All of the high-risk jobs start rolling in. I've been a registered Dark Mage in Paris for twenty-three years, but I only started the truly Dark work about a year ago, a little over two months after Armand died." She raked a hand through her tangled dark hair and then fixed Jones with a stare. "When you work the real Dark Arts regularly, it shows in your eyes. 'The mirror of your soul', who would have thought that was real? Your eyes will change to red in three months; to black, in six." She shook her head ruefully as she remembered the change. The memories were unpleasant. Trying to shift the topic, she grinned. "The clients love the black eyes. The City of Paris loves them, too. I can't believe what they'll allow me to do as long as they get their cut. I am a bona fide moneymaker for them. Bastards." She rolled her head back and stretched. Rising stiffly from the chair, she gave a formal bow. "And that, Professor Jones, is why I'm here. Someone who has an enemy or enemies is doing something very public and needs someone to watch their back. It's not that I'm trying to get myself killed. I don't care any more. If I survive this one, there will be another. Mâitre Faucon will take me back to Paris and we'll wait for the next job. There's always another."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Or am I supposed to be jealous?"

"Neither. You asked. And now, I feel the need for a hunt. We missed a hare last night and I want a rematch. Time to fetch Gregorov. Since I can't find another alpha, I'll have to be content with him. What do you think? Should I make him beg for it?" Her barked laugh seemed to hang long after she left.

* * *

They hunted the entire night, flushing a few rabbits and another hare. A herd of deer regarded them warily and scattered when they got too close. A great deal of time was spent discovering what was behind a tree or under a rock. Flinging chunks of half-frozen mud in a shower, Loup tried to dig out part of a rabbit warren, but only succeeded in making a huge mess. Still, it was enjoyable to be the wolf and not have to think too much beyond the immediate now.

Gregorov tried to talk to her a few times, transforming back to his human self and offering the black wolf something to eat. She refused to shift and sat in the snow, regarding him scornfully.

By the time dawn's light crept over the hillside, they were both exhausted and only managed a slow trot on the way back to the castle's gates. There, she yipped, demanding someone open the portals. Neither guard wanted to leave the warmth of their room. Loup yipped again and then howled until a man stormed out and threw a bottle at them, narrowly missing her. Screaming invective, the guard stood in front of the gates, gesturing wildly. Loup slunk forward, growling. A second guard appeared from the gatehouse, carrying something in both his hands. The threat was averted when Gregorov transformed and began yelling at the startled men. The gates opened, but only just enough for the two to enter and were slammed shut immediately after.

"I'm starving. We never managed to catch anything. Do you think we can get something to eat this early?" She ran her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it.

Gregorov looked at the light, trying to figure out what time it was. There were people out in the courtyard. A few wandered by, their red robes peeking out from beneath the shaggy cloaks. He nodded. If the students were awake and moving around, there would be food in the hall. "Come." He started to walk off before he realized that she remained where she stood. Under her steady gaze he wilted and fell back to wait for her to lead.

This is stupid,

he thought as he followed her up the stairs into the castle. It seemed ridiculous that he should have to let her go first when he was the one who knew where everything was. Each time he tried to show her something, she refused to follow. Had it been like that before? Yes, his memory prompted, only worse. Gregorov thrust his hands into his coat pockets and sulked after her as they passed through the main hall and into the Great Hall. Distracted by the teasing scent of breakfast, he almost ran into her when she suddenly stopped. For an instant, he felt smug. She had no idea where to go next. However, he knew better to get in any jibes to that effect.

"The department's table is to the left." His voice was almost a whisper, hinting where she should lead. They walked around the large doors to the table and settled onto the bench. A passing servant took note of them and soon came back with a large platter of food.

"Looks good." With liberal scoops, she filled a bowl with yogurt and grabbed a handful of bread. "I usually only have a demi baguette and coffee. Speaking of which, is there coffee?"

Gregorov paused and thought back to the days when he ate breakfast in the hall. After Petrov's death, he and Tal would go together. But that was three years ago and he mostly remembered that he enjoyed the meal. "There should be. I will ask." No sooner had the words been said than another servant came by and placed a tray with a coffeepot and a teapot in front of them.

She immediately poured a cup and sniffed it cautiously. "Smells fine. But the little dark-haired fellow with the big nose, his coffee smelled fine, too."

Gregorov almost spit out the bread he was chewing in response. Rabe was not very tall and her description was appropriate, but not complimentary for the head of department.

With a practiced air, she took out her wand and did a quick Confirmare on her food and drink, ignoring Gregorov's amused expression. Satisfied at their safety, she took a cautious sip of her coffee, shrugged and proceeded to devour the bread and yogurt. Breakfast was a pleasant, but quiet affair. Neither of them talked very much as they ate. He watched her observe the hall, taking in the students and teachers with equal interest. "How old are the kids? They look like they start around ten or so," she said between sips of coffee

"Usual ages. Start at eleven, graduate at eighteen." Gregorov speared a slice of ham to put on his bread and butter.

"We don't have this kind of education in the States. At least none that I know of. Of course, I've been gone for over twenty years, so maybe things have changed. What do they learn?" She pushed away her plate and bowl before pouring yet another cup of coffee.

Gregorov chewed and thought about his answer for a bit. "Everyone takes the core classes for the first two years: Introduction to the Dark Arts, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Basic Spells, Charms. The usual."

She played with her fourth cup of coffee, swirling it this way and that. "How many classes do you teach?"

"I teach the Dark Arts' curriculum for upper level spells, those taken in the fifth, sixth and seventh years. I also teach some of the adult classes during the summer when the Headmaster schedules those."

"Adults? What kind of adults?" She focused her full attention on him, waiting for more information.

Gregorov poured himself the last of the tea and slowly stirred the sugar cube into it. "We teach Aurors and the police of paying governments."

"You teach Aurors? You give them information they can use against us!" Her jaw clenched and her eyes seemed to grow blacker. "How can you do that?"

Gregorov spoke quickly, trying to make it sound less threatening. "We demonstrate some of the most common spells they are likely to see in their work. We teach the police techniques to control and remove problems." He pushed a plate of pastries towards her in an attempt to appease. "We do not show them any of the more important spells. Nor do we show them any of the ways that can hide what has been done."

"Good hunting?" Kessler said in way of a greeting as he seated himself on the other side of Loup.

"I do not like to be confined," she snarled. "Sit somewhere else."

The food was suddenly fascinating. It took all of Gregorov's attention as he selected a piece of bread. In the presence of more dominant wolf, Gregorov resumed his old role. Raising his bushy eyebrows in question, Kessler looked down at the aggressive posture of the woman. It was too early to fight about anything yet. Instead, Kessler sighed dramatically as he stood and then walked around the table to the other side of Gregorov. The two men exchanged glances, Gregorov wincing as he looked away first. Kessler cleared his throat loudly and raised his hand to flag a server down. With a dramatic wave, he indicated the lack of food and the glowering man headed back into the kitchens for more.

Kessler tried to fill a mug with coffee but found the pot empty. He held it up to catch the attention of another scurrying figure. "Rabe decided not to make coffee this morning. I thought that it would be unsafe to teach without at least a cup." He tapped the teapot with a spoon and listened to it ring. "You drank an entire pot of coffee and all of the tea?" Shaking his head, he reached out for one of the pastries, but quickly pulled his hand back when he realized that he was being watched. Bad memories of Petrov and Tal came back to haunt the table. No one, including Gregorov, had been sad when they had met their ends. The second platter arrived and Kessler grabbed it out of the server's hands, placing it as far away from the wolves as he could.

The last of her coffee finished, Loup leaned forward to catch the men's attention. "Do you think I could attend a class or two? My training is so different from what you offer here. I'd just sit there and listen." When no one said anything, she rose from the bench and began walking towards the center of the room.

"Where is she going?" Kessler slathered butter onto a piece of dark bread and then piled ham onto it. When Gregorov didn't answer, he looked up in time to see her stop in front of the Headmaster's table. From where they sat, they could see her bow and, spreading her hands out, present her request. Uneasily, they watched as the Headmaster listened and then nodded. With a grunt, Kessler savaged his breakfast. "Let her attend Professor Jones' classes. I am certain they have a great deal in common. They do the same kind of work. They are both annoying and Americans." Kessler finished his mound of food and coffee. "I do not want her in my classes."

"We could see if she would be interested in Professor de Rais' courses." Gregorov's voice was low as he leaned on the table, watching her every move.

"I find that more frightening. His work with the dead. Those eyes. No. Perhaps Rabe's afternoon class on substitution values..."

Gregorov shook his head. "She would not be interested. He is not strong enough for her. Ludwig perhaps? She used to set wards." He started to laugh. "Does Ludwig teach one of his sex spell classes this afternoon?"

Kessler leaned back, folded his arms over his chest and smiled broadly. "Are you hoping to break into that ice bitch?"

Gregorov's smile faded. "She would try to kill me."

Kessler looked at him. "She is half your size." Then, remembering the other wolves of Gregorov's past and his friend's position in that group, he made a disgusted face. "I do not understand the pack mentality. You are a powerful wizard. I have not heard any of your women complain." He elbowed Gregorov. "She is a wolf. Why not?"

Gregorov looked over to where she stood. Status in a pack was gained and lost by fighting and, although she was smaller than him as a human, she was the biggest wolf he had ever seen. She would either kill or humiliate him. Petrov had nearly crippled him and Tal, a small but wiry man, had dominated him. The memories burned and the shoulder still pained in the right weather. He was saved from answering by her return.

"I have permission to attend as many classes as I would like." She sat down again and grabbed up one of the sweet cakes. "What's being offered today?"

The men seemed to be involved in chewing large mouthfuls of food.

"What classes are you teaching today, Gregorov?" Loup demanded.

"Nothing that would interest you. I am certain that you would find it too basic. Perhaps you would be interested in the Ritual Magic class that Professor Jones teaches?" Gregorov kept his eyes on the table, but Kessler chuffed a laugh.

"Ritual Magic. Hmmm. Well, I guess that I might learn something new." She leaned forward onto her elbows, and watched the students for a bit. "What do you teach?" She turned to look at Kessler who ignored her, his attention fixed across the hall.

Both Gregorov and Loup looked to see what was so interesting or, rather, who. A tall, slender blonde girl smiled back at Kessler and returned his wave. Kessler's current lover, Inge. This year's girl toy. Or possibly one of this year's chosen. Smiling, Inge left her table and wandered over to stand in front of the admiring Kessler. The conversation was completely non verbal, but quite explicit. Loup snorted, disgusted. Kessler gave her a brief glare before turning his full attention back to the lovely girl.

"Let's go." Loup grabbed one last cake and stood to leave. Normally, Gregorov would have stayed to see if anyone caught his attention. The school year was young and he had not selected from the seventh years. As long as the teachers took their lovers from the graduating class, no one seemed to care. Loup pulled her cloak around her and made it clear that she was leaving and expected Gregorov to follow. Grudgingly, he also stood, but made sure to look Kessler's girl over one last time before he followed.

She waited for him in the main hall, arms folded, her mouth set in a tight line. "The school allows that nonsense? He's old enough to be her father, grandfather maybe. That's disgusting."

Gregorov was startled. It had never really occurred to him that sleeping with his students was wrong. He tried to answer, but kept stumbling over his response until she swept out of the hall with him following after.

They slopped down the narrow, muddy path back to the Dark Arts offices, the bells tolling seven as they entered the building. Without a backward glance, she stalked over to Jones' office, snarling out the key phrase to pass through the wards. Gregorov found himself standing alone in the hall, feeling both offended and confused.

A low mumble of conversation came out of the staff room and, shaking his head, Gregorov followed it into the comfortably tacky room. Most of the staff sat around the table.

Haken's daily pile of scrolls lay in a heap at his feet while he read over his notes for his first lecture. With a toothy grin, Haken kicked aside some of the scrolls so the Russian could have a place to put his feet. Gregorov slumped sideways there, facing the door and not the others. Wronski, who was frequently the victim of Gregorov's verbal attacks, moved off to stand by the sink in an attempt to be out of the way.

Looking around to see if anyone else was willing to ask the question and finding no one, Lowenstein put his mug down and leaned forward slightly. "Yuri?"

The two men were a stark contrast. Gregorov looked like a wild thing - the long brown hair was tangled from a night of hunting, the clothing still wet in places from the snow and his hands and clothes were filthy from where he had helped her dig. Lowenstein's blond hair was carefully combed, his beard trimmed, and his clothing immaculate. Gregorov's face settled into a dark, stubborn look as he began to feel more disheveled in comparison. "Da?"

"We are all pleased that you have found another wolf with whom you may hunt; however, you do realize that you must keep up with your work, do you not?" Lowenstein nodded once and straightened in his seat, looking all the more elegant and precise.

Gregorov slumped deeper. The wolves had all let their work slip. One wolf could hunt mice or terrorize the cats that supposedly kept the mice in check at the castle, but two or more.... The hunt was always more interesting than grading. Almost anything was. "Da." He looked down at his hands, at the mud caked on his nails and fingers and then down at his clothes. Grimacing, he got up and left the room.

"God, he looks horrible. Was he like that when Tal was around?" Jones looked over her mug as Wronski came back to the table.

Wronski shrugged. "He didn't talk at all when Tal was around. They were both a mess, though. They'd be out all weekend and a lot of the week." He took a sip of his tea, listening for Gregorov's return. "They used to let their paperwork pile up. Then, of course, they'd have to spend an entire weekend catching up. That would make them mad so they'd pick fights with everyone."

"Not 'they'," Haken reminded Wronski, "Professor Tal would pick the fight and the pack would join in. Not a pleasant time. It was worse when Professor Petrov was also alive. He enjoyed conflict of any sort." His usual smile gone, Haken gathered his scrolls together and maneuvered into a net bag. "She will not be here long. We will once again hear the many complaints of Professor Gregorov after she has gone." He drew the bag shut and forced his usual smile back out. "Perhaps she could stay. She does not seem to drink and the exercise of the chase would be good for him." His smile broadened when Jones scowled at the idea. "One wolf alone is not healthy." With that, Haken put on his coat and left for his first class.

Rabe muttered something that no one quite caught, but the word "coffee" was heard.

"What does she do while she waits? I have not seen her on the campus." Magda put a small wooden box on the table, opened it and began to sort through a selection of small stoppered bottles and bags.

"Goes through my stuff," Jones grumped. "Caught her reading one of my grimoires yesterday."

"She touched your stuff?" Wronski tried to sound shocked, but the sarcasm lay far too heavily. "What did you think she would do? Spend the whole day meditating? Hello! The eyes? They didn't come from doing cheering charms. Of course, she read your stinky book. Probably took notes, too."

"No. No notes. And it is wonderfully fragrant, isn't it?" Loup growled from the doorway, making Jones jump. "The Headmaster has said that I can attend classes while I wait for my client to arrive."

The statement met with silence. No one came forward to offer an invitation.

"I would like to listen to a lecture or two this afternoon. I have to meet with Faucon this morning. What's scheduled?" She walked over and took the chair Gregorov had vacated.

Rabe stood and spoke as if he were addressing a class. "Professor Jones will lecture to one of her Ritual Magic classes as well as her Special Projects class this afternoon. Professor Haken has two classes in the Introduction to the Dark Arts course. Professor Lowenstein's classes concern the baser human emotions and how to use them to your own ends. Professor de Rais has a class that meets today in the field of Necromancy or is it the Control of the Dead?" Rabe glanced over at de Rais who quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Rabe's shoulders hunched and he didn't pursue the question. "Professor Kessler has two different sections of Hexes and Curses. Professor Gregorov's Spells classes meet as well. I teach a class in Substitution Values immediately after lunch."

Wronski cleared his throat, to remind Rabe that he had forgotten someone.

"And Professor Wronski has a lecture as well as a two hour practical application exercise in the area of Potions." Rabe finished sounding even more self-important than usual.

"I call it lecture and lab myself," Wronski said as he finished the last of his tea. "If you liked the way Rose's book smelled, you ought to drop by."

Without looking away from Rabe, Loup asked, "Gregorov, what do you suggest?"

No one had seen or heard Gregorov return. He stood in the doorway, much cleaner and far better groomed than when he had left. Gregorov mumbled something that no one heard. Loup had and she nodded in agreement.

"All of the lectures are in the dungeons?"

"Yes. All of them." Rabe sounded peeved as he donned his coat and gathered his paperwork. "There is a staircase..."

She cut him off, "Yes. I know where it is. The Defense Against the Dark Arts offices are on the second floor or third floor?"

"Top floor," Wronski offered. "Why?"

"That's where I am to meet Mâitre Faucon." Sounding bitter, she sneered, "Place probably reeks of Aurors."

"It's where they breed them." Wronski tried to make a joke of it, but her expression cut him short. "Other than Werner, what's the problem with Aurors?"

"You've never worked in this field, have you?" Loup asked, fixing Wronski with a glare.

Wronski tried to regain his self-assurance that one glare had shot away. "I've never had any official problems."

Loup sneered and turned her attention to the long black robes that she had worn her first day there. All of the pleats were carefully adjusted and smoothed.

"What's the pin for?" Jones pointed at the fleur-de-lis badge on her robes.

"Lets me back into Paris. They put a lot of spells on the registered Dark Arts practitioners. Can't get in or out without it. I'm not even sure I need Faucon, too. I'm surprised he let me keep it. Usually, he takes it away from me after we pass through Paris' portals." Loup held out her arms to display the blacker than black robes. "My uniform. Well, it looks better with the hood." With that, she pulled the hood over her head, hands moving in arcane positions to secure it. Then, she pulled on a pair of black gloves. With the hood in place, there was no way to identify her. She resembled nothing so much as a pleurant from some 15^th century tomb. "This is the part I always loved." A few muttered words later, over her head words appeared in glowing gold letters: "I am the Loup de l'ombre." Her wolf head sigil burned as the letters faded.

"Cool!" Jones couldn't help herself. "How do you do that?"

"Why do you do that?" Lowenstein asked.

"Ah. When a client meets with me directly, this is what he sees. There is no person. Only this. It marks me as a practitioner, provides a visual context for clients. When you register in Paris to work in the Dark Arts, you become your sigil or your mark. Whatever you want to call it. You leave your name and past behind." No words were heard. Instead, the words appeared and faded above her. Then, the sigil vanished and she began to drop the hood.

Interested looks were passed between the remaining staff members. With the exceptions of Jones and de Rais, the rest had spent their lives in the employ of schools or governments.

"Do you have to wear the robes?" Jones leaned back, interested.

"No. Not always. Sometimes, you want to be a part of the background. Sometimes, you want to play a role. Today, I play the role for my Maitre. Part of the every other day check in. Makes him happy to feel like he's in control. Idiot. I amuse myself with tallying how much damage I could do to him with the few hairs he's left behind. If I could get him to cut himself, I could do more."

Everyone looked over at Jones. "A twin for Professor Jones," Rabe sighed.

"Blood is the best, isn't it?" Jones asked with a grin.

"The very best. Of course, for a man, semen works well, too."

The men paled and left for their classes as quickly as possible.