#blooded vampire

[zombocomme]

Ministry📺TV presents

A BTL AU Special Broadcast

From the Ministry TV Vault: S2 E3

Written by [AZ], hosted by Zombocomme

BTL: Something Wicked, comes in the Heartland

NSFW⚠️MDNI🔞- Vampire/Lycan- Dark themes, Blood, vampire sex, death and all his friends, and a little bit of hope.

Enjoy

⛰️🍻🍃✨️🐾🥊🦇🫲🙂‍↕️🫱🦇🔮🎶✨️🍂🏰⛰️

"'You broke my heart at the end of the summer-'"

Emmanuel sang to himself softly. He overlooked the valley that had become his charge, his home, but couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness in the way the wind seemed to carry his tears out to the long grass where they sparkled like dewdrops. He loved *her. He missed *her. He knew he wasn't good for *her. And he couldn't help the way his heart ached. The way it made his shoulders sag. He was quieter these days, knowing Milagro was somewhere else. He had hoped she would grow to love him more, staying in the camp. His door was always open. She seemed happy, helping around, socializing, learning more about the woods, and how to live in them. Emmanuel just couldn't understand why she seemed so lonely.

Why she seemed to hold a sadness in her eyes at all hours. Why she wouldn't come 'home' to the warmth of his bed. Tonight, tonight, he knew for sure, she would be anywhere but warming his bed, or holding on to his arm, or wrapped around his waist.. this night was the night he had hoped to really make an impression, to show her that life in the pack wasn't so bad. She had a place here by his side where she had community, opportunity, and him. 

But she had decided to stay away, bunking with Teddy  tonight instead. He knew why.

 But he wouldn't let himself think on it long. He could see her, far off, trekking up the hill towards Johan's trailer. She would never want him again, not like she used to, when they were young and careless. They knew each other well. Too well. And that had been why they always seemed to keep falling apart.

Emmanuel hitched and wiped at his eyes, his shoulder length red hair whipped around and stuck to his tear stained face, the cool wind from the lake flooding the valley with the first signs of Autumn. Summer was dying. And Emmanuel felt like he was dying also.

He tore himself away from the gloomy scene of her disappearing out of sight, trying to find comfort in that, in some way, she would always love him. She might even be his to hold, sometimes... but he would never have her fully, to himself, not how he wanted. And that hurt more than words could say, and He was the kind of man who refused to say them... 

With a choked back breath, he trotted down the hill path, heading back into camp. The full moon nights like this, especially at the end of a season, we're rauccus and bachanal, everywhere food, drink, dance, fighting and fucking. It was the way of his people. Emmanuel had hoped to have his mate by his side tonight, to be his, just for one more night. He wanted her, wanted to preen and dote, wanted to love her the way he had always wanted. No one else. Even if everyone else wanted a piece of their alpha, one way or another, it was to her that his heart felt sold to, that he felt beholden like a beggar on their knees, pleading for another chance.

"I would stay by her grave to my last breath, pining for her."

That was what Emmanuel had said, to the ferryman of his dreams. And he had meant it. Then and now. 

And now, he realized, he very well may pine for the rest of his long life. And he hated it. And would do anything to hide from that pain, hide away in a damp grotto on the lake somewhere and lick his wounds. 

So of course Emmanuel did what he knew best, just like he did on his days at sea once upon a time- eat, drink, fight, and all the things as such that was a once merry pirate's life. 

He was a landlocked sea dog, and he itched to go back to his old home, port somewhere and be out in the open again. It felt like everything was closing in.  Everything was becoming so complicated, his people's numbers growing every day it seemed. It felt like too much and he just wanted to let it all go. To leave everything behind. All the work he invested in this settlement at the lake-shore, all the people depending on him in the valley. Emmanuel wanted to bury himself in his sheets and think of her. Her scent, her touch, soothing to his bestial turmoil. And instead she was leaving the festivities, and seeking companionship elsewhere. No. He needed to see her before the night was through. He would find her. He would break her stubborn resolve... Somehow... 

Till then, Emmanuel was going to do exactly what these festivities meant to do- blow off steam by the rough and wild light of the Lycans dancing around the raging bonfires...

***

Copia dragged his fingers down Jim's lips, hitching and moaning as his lover rolled into him over and over, "s-so good, so ah-!"

Jim pinned Copias wrists, pressing his hardness even deeper, as if desperately trying to reach the core of Copia's heart with his cock.

"You take it so well baby, ugnh- ah- gonna, g-ahh, C-Copia-!" Jim grunted before he let out a long groan that flattened to the sweetest of sighs. 

Copia who had been trembling, holding himself back, let go, and came around his Jim, squeezing, a mess splattering thickly across his tensed stomach. Heavy lidded, Jim's eyes fluttered as he rolled and collapsed beside Copia, feeling the humming buzz of his climax rushing in his veins. Copia panted, trying to regain some semblance of self. He looked over at Jim who had an arm curled under the pillow, eyes wandering along the soft pout of his parted lips. He looked beautiful in this moonlight, tucked away, just for him, for Copia to love. 

Jim was exhausted and half asleep when Copia siddled against him, tangling their legs and slotting into where he felt loved and safe in Jim's arms. He tried to fall asleep but couldn't help but feel something, missing. He tried to turn off his mind, to the fact Milagro was in the Valley with Emmanuel and Teddy, instead of here with them, at the ministry, not many miles away. She was in hiding, and Copia and Jim were walking around, scott free, careless as swooping swallows.

Guilt dragged across Copia's mind and he tangled his fingers in a fistful of blankets, turning and twisting until he had buried himself as deeply into the sheets and Jim as he could, shutting out the difficult world he had quickly found himself drowning in... "At least-" he thought, "At least she can come home soon... once we know she's safe..." 

He sunk further down and nuzzled in the patch of dark hair on Jim's chest, inhaling his scent. Comforting, familiar, and deeply ingrained to the marrow of his very bones. Bones which had been sturdy enough before, maybe they would hold Copia up, keep him standing.

"It will be over soon. It will be over soon. Everyone is safe, everyone will be alright, I pray everything will be alright..." 

*Except the truth was, after the incidents in Los Angeles, no one was safe in this valley.*

And the enemies of above and below were laying in wait, biding their time, looking for the best opportunity to strike... meanwhile Jim slumbered with an arm wrapped protectively around Copia's form, an action that spoke of tenderness and longing. Jim found purpose in sheltering his loved ones. It was why he and Copia kept seeking eachother out, and why it was so vital that Milagro could be his home. He loved Copia, in his own way... but at night when he closed his eyes, no matter how intense his lovemaking was for his blood master, it was Milagro who softly floated into his dreams. Her touch, her voice, and her hair, soft in his fingers whenever he laid her down, he never let her head hit the pillow without his hand behind it. 

He remembered LA. God he couldn't forget it. 

*They all had been close to death, even met the Ferryman of the realm beyond, their own guides to the life and the space in The After. Everyone, minus Teddy who had left before the dust had settled, and returned right when it was kicking up again…*

They had been visited in a land of dreams, and Jim had traveled to his own. A forgotten island in the misty dark, where he encountered a soft bright soul, a little soul, whom he couldn't bear to leave behind in that dark place alone... 

Jim had paid a hefty price for it, for the begotten soul of what he prayed would be his first born.

And Jim had begged and pleaded with the powers that be, to let him have this with the woman he loved, "Please, oh please, oh please" he had muttered while he and she held one another tenderly in the nights they had spent in that House by the beach. How he had felt his heart, his tears, burst from him with gentle gasps and sighs, like the coastal breeze that billowed through the open curtains. He wanted this with her. She was his world. He wanted to be the one to love her so completely. Make her a mother, make Jim more than just a 'Father of an Alabama church-house congregation'. He wanted that little voice he heard in that island of dreams, one he'd never forget, to call him "Daddy". It was a voice Jim knew he would recognize the moment his firstborn would come kicking and screaming into the world, letting everyone know they had arrived. Jim needed it, needed to hear it with his mortal ears, more and more every day, and the call in his soul for it kept growing stronger. Ever since the last night Jim had spent with Milagro, that night of tenderness and loving promises, of loving someone so much he wanted to create something together. Wanting to have something of him in her, to leave behind, once he left the world. 

A vampire lives long, most of the time. But she could choose life eternal, Copia had already chosen... how could Jim explain to them, confess, that he had sold that dark gift, a life for a life. That he had sold his opportunity to be with them for forever. 

"-And what you've sold, you can't unsell" he thought, as his mind faded to dreaming of all the things he had done to now, praying Milagro would choose a mortal life long enough to have his child, the one promised by a ferryman who held that soul in a dreamless sleep at the docs waiting... Where Jim would go looking, just to see them again, in the place where dreams may come...

Blissfully unaware that his dreaming would soon become, reality...

***

Emmanuel wiped his bloody mouth and sneered, his dark brow sweaty. His shirt had been pulled off three opponents ago, and he was only getting started. The crowd gathered around was whistling, jeering, hyping up their collective like blaggards at a dog fight. Except it was exactly what Emmanuel needed to hone in on his opponent. The thrill of goading them into his clutches and performing against their expectations.

"Fuckin' hell mate, best you can do?" He mocked. Dancing from one stance to another stumbling and rocking on his heels, appearing more drunk than he was.

The man swore by his rum, "keeps me keen, savvy" Emmanuel would say to anyone who asked. But he kept his shoulders loose with distance, and elbows tightened at the moment when the distance closed, ready. Circling one another, the fighting pair paced, trying to juke and jab. Squaring his hips Emmanuel stood head on, tempting his opponent who took the bait and came in for a swing.

Suddenly dropping to all fours Emmanuel charged at his opponent, launching his full body weight like a spear, and he was no small man. Barrel-chested, broad shouldered, standing a head taller than his opponent.

Emmanuel flew into his opponent, fist striking straight to the diaphragm, a sickening crack ringing out like a flat gong, signalling an end to the round. 

The lycans, in the fighting circles springing up everywhere as the night carried on, were in human forms, gathering to get a glimpse of one of the best events of nights like these. A moment to tangle with the best of the best, ranks moving and betting as they went. For now, the odds had been about as even as one could get for this fight Emmanuel remained undefeated as it was. Imagine if he was really trying...

Without hesitation, the fist strike, quick as lightning, ended in a rough tackle, sending both men to the ground.

 Emmanuel scrambled to cover the man in the dust, bare chested, sweat flicking as he snarled, his hand at their throat bearing down, the other twisting their wrist in a cruel angle, the bones groaning.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" They screamed, tapping at the ground furiously. 

Emmanuel growled low and tossed the captured hand away, the red marks on his opponents neck evident that Emmanuel had won this fight, hands down.

Upon standing up Emmanuel clasped the man's arm in good form as the gathered crowd whooped and cheered, some throwing back long howls for good measure. It had been a good fight and the man had drawn first blood of the Alpha for the night, an unusual and impressive feat. No doubt it would make for a good bragging story for them in the morning.

 The opponent was led away through the crowd towards a table and sloshed a strong mead into his gullet.

He may have lost the fight but he kept his rank and his pride.

 "Cheers to the Irrinja from down unda'" the man slurred. Merry fists drummed on the tables and sang out their praises.

When a voice in the crowd asked how he landed that first punch, the fighter gave a bleary eyed smile, "Heeey! Every dog has their day!" He jested. To which, Emmanuel called out, "Oi, says the bugger who was just down unda me. Caught your tail fair and square!" A bolstering belly laugh erupted from the crowd. Even from the man who was nursing his cracked ribs.

 The crowd gathered around the fighting circle cheering and chanting "drinks, drinks all around!"

"Right, s'all great an all, but I'm still waiting for mine!" Emmanuel laughed, the mead from before going to his head. He called it his land legs, relaxed and swaying as if at sea. He was in his element even if his feet were planted on rough earth. 

A 'king's cup' was passed through the crowd and handed to the Alpha, and as he guzzled it, the droplets ran down Emmanuel's beard, making it sparkle in the firelight around them. Wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, tasting the copper of the blood still dribbling between his teeth, he cheered, the crowd raising their drinks aloft, ready for another opponent to challenge the alpha. They all knew none were a match for him. It was why they fought like men instead of beasts.

Emmanuel, as a beast, was something to behold surely...

*As a man he stood tall, fiery, and strong. But he was an Irrinja, born of storms and sand. He had, one day, gone seeking his purpose, in a walk-about, long overdue. He had come back awakened, and more fierce than ever. Thylacine jaws and stripes, in his beast form he stood some hands tall, comparable to that of a horse! But even in this powerful form he found his strength best when his body moved the way he knew. Humanoid in stature, but with the power of wild things in his veins, in Irrinja form, something more beast than man, and less wolf than beast. Built like a berserker.*

As Emmanuel made merry with his friends, his people, his handsome human features bathed in firelight, he almost forgot that his mind was troubled and his heart full of aches and breaks.

Such is the heart of a man, once more searching for his purpose... asleep, until they are awakened...

**

Lelani approached Emmanuel in the circle. A lithe woman with dark skin and black locks of hair, her eyes glazed and shining. Head of the Warriors in Emmanuel's pack. She was a mostly undefeated champion in her own right. 

Her breath smelled strongly of spirits. She was bare chested and harboring scars and more recent scuffs and scrapes from the night. She had been in other fighting circles elsewhere that night. And this time she had it in her mind that she was going to fight Emmanuel. When Lelani approached, He wiped his mouth and set his pint aside, "Right love, a bit late to the party, thought you'd want to have a go earlier when I was fresh" he said loudly, the crowd laughing.

"I needed a warm up Em, telling me after a few blokes knocked your face you aren't worth your salt?"

The crowd hushed. She was drunk. Very, very drunk. She was known to act rashly in this state. But approaching the Alpha to try and trade insults with her blows, that was no sportsman thing to do in Emmanuel's book.

He frowned, spitting the blood in his mouth to the dark dusty ground.

"No need to get nasty love, fight'sa fight" he chimed. His eyes glanced at the swift forward movement of his lieutenant, Ricky Tan. "Steady mate, let ‘er breathe" he growled. Ricky stayed put but, loyal as they come, was ready to step in.

*Lelani was bold. A little too bold at times. There was a reason she and Em had initially parted ways at sea. And why her words rubbed like salt in old wounds.

She came to the valley on his invitation because, even if they didn't get along all the way, he knew he could count on Lelani to, in the end, not turn against him. The history was, she'd rather part ways amicably, than participate in a mutiny.

Though it seemed lately she was acting out and drinking with more frequency, and there was less to count on. With the changes in the pack, now residing in Ministry Valley, she was less than content to be harbored with her people under the leadership of an Alpha Lycan, and his good graces of being in a coven of Vampires, "Bloodfangs" as they were called in Lycan tongue. And Lelani had less than a favorable view of the packs fearless leader, when he was fucking on of them, and bringing them into the pack, much less sheltering his pet fugitive,  putting everyone at risk.

 "Fuckoff Ricky, nothing’s started yet!" She hissed, seeing Ricky's halted movements. 

"Oi! No preaching to the choir circles, if you came to trade paint, I suggest you get to it. Otherwise we're all a bit preoccupied polishing off the last round we had!" Emmanuel said, grabbing a and swinging back another whole pint. He could drink anyone under the table. But he was hoping not to have to fight over it.

Emmanuel knew Lelani was sloshed, but He had some patience left in him yet. But his fuse, however, was short and the look in his icy eyes warned she should tread carefully. She did not.

"Nah, I just thought you were a bit occupied with that sweet set of legs, ay. Where is your pretty little mate anyway? Castled away tonight Em? Hagh!" She laughed loudly, snatching someone else's pint, drinking it whole.

"Thought if she was yours she'd be a right  tougher than tha’! Lives in a pack and can't stand just visiting the festival? Dainty, pretty little thing ain't she Em, an easy takedown if she did come!"

 This was the night to do this. The festivities were meant to be rowdy, settle debts, settle wagers and win back honors, or lose them...

 But Emmanuel was not the person to fuck with.

"Keep me missus name out your mouth, before I slap it off you 'lani! She holds her own like every-"

"Good thing I still've got other ways to bring her down here ay?" She said, lewdly wiggling her fingers across her long tongue, "make 'er use her sea legs?"

"You're picking the wrong fight my girl, no one, and I mean, " he said addressing the hushed crowd with a stern voice that almost seemed to sober up half of them, ears perking up, "I mean no one is to speak ill of my mate. She is the reason we are here and have found home in this valley! Lycan or not. She's part of this pack-"

"Then the hell is she at Em!?" Lelani said, striding up too close, her breath mingling with his in his face. Emmanuel held a hand out, fingers splayed over her bared chest.

"The hell you think you are. You wanna have a go ay, then give it a go or else back the fuck up."

"Else? What else? Gonna send the Bloodfangs after us?" She shouted, shoving him, this scene getting out of control.

Emmanuel felt a flare in his chest that didn't go unnoticed. By his best mate,

"You best turn tail and run the other way, 'Lani,  your gonna get fucked up..." Ricky Tan warned, in a slightly amused tone that was ready for her to do otherwise so he could say, "told ya".

Emmanuel growled low, a sound that rumbled from that flare in his chest. Lelani took a few charged breaths before backing down. She was brash but not entirely stupid. She was outnumbered and outclassed if one or both the male lycans pounced on her- not because she couldn't fend them off per say, but to fight now after being told off by the Alpha and his leftenant, why there was no rank trading for that. A pointless fight that could stip her down of her own, and she had worked too hard to be where she was, even if she resented it.

"S'all fun and games till someone loses an eye, ain't it Em!" Lelani shot back before walking through the crowd, pushing to get back to where her tent was, where a few other females of the group lay waiting for her to give them their sea legs. 

"D-Drinks all rou-nd!" Someone shouted as another barrel of rum was pushed into the circle to try and break the tension. Emmanuel looked up and saw the interrupter, and his hardened face softened, and he gave a silent thank you, nodding to his second lieutenant, 'Boss André" who adjusted his glasses and gave Emmanuel a thumbs up. He had rolled a massive barrel out and with the attention on him instead of what just happened in the circle,  kicked the tap open to pour out, the crowd rushing with their glasses and cups to catch the roiling rum. Emmanuel was damned glad he had André in his crew. The man was quiet, words hard to string together without the stutter, but he was honest and hardworking. Extremely intelligent. And luck followed him everywhere. If only his luck could fix the way several of the lycans out on the outskirts eyed Emanuel with reproach, or even fear.

Emmanuel's fists clenched as a few of the more sober lycans in the collapsing circle whispered amongst themselves.

"All fun and games eh?" Emmanuel murmured, a serious look on his face. 

He spat on the ground once more and snatched his discarded shirt from Ricky's hands and turned on his heels, heading off. The circle around them had collapsed, the Alpha's sparring ring and its purposes were over... the real war  outside the circle was only just beginning...

And Emmanuel had yet to find his purpose, truly...

Ricky Tan watched Emmanuel storm off, glancing at André, who nodded back. They knew Emmanuel too well...

Ricky bolted after Emmanuel, "Em, Em wait, you don't need to do this. * man on the hill is worth more alive than dead."

 Ricky hissed, trying to keep the conversation quiet. Through the bustling crowd Emmanuel's voice reached his ears, "I'm not gonna kill him. I just want to talk, savvy?"

Ricky pursed his lips and sighed, running to catch up. The firelight faded into the background as the noise of the festivities drifted farther and farther away.

Ricky fell into step with Emmanuel, who's eyes were hard and his demeanor cold.

They were quiet as they made their way through the forest paths and up and rounding a hill, upon the remnants of an old dirt road that curved and curled around the hillside.

"Ricky. Find someone to take care of this, yeh?" Emmanuel said, as they approached a massive log in the road ahead. Most people would just walk around it.

But Emmanuel had plans. Plans with roads. Plans with horses and Storefronts, no matter how small, he had plans to change the face of this valley, if he could think beyond this night, and this obstacle on his path ahead of him. 

 He hopped over the damned thing with ease, being the less stocky of the pair, despite his taller stature. Ricky did the same. Clumsily his foot caught the broken branch sticking up, and the log subtly, precariously moved, as if to merely giggle at its dangerous cover, the sound of the ground giving way slightly, the sizeable log shifting suspiciously, and then righting itself as if the sound never was...

Ricky, wind-milling his arms, managed to catch himself with three fingers to the ground, stopping himself short of a painful topple and looked back. The log looked as sturdy from this as the other side. But that sound in-between, that little hint of 'something bad' made something hard and cold slide down Ricky's throat. His instincts were rarely wrong. And something was most definately, fucking wrong...

Walking to the side of the road, facing the down hill, Ricky sniffed the air.

"Coming to puppysit or not!" Emmanuel shot back as he spearheaded his pace forward. "Uh- y-yeah." Ricky called back, his eyes trained on the log. Looking for any sign of movement or that it had indeed shifted precariously. "Em hang back, wanna check out this here-" but he looked and Emmanuel was already about to disappear over the hilltop.

Emmanuel was not one to ignore his subordinates, much less his closest friends. It wasn't like him. "Off his rocker" Ricky thought, but the wiggling feeling at the back of his neck, and the log sitting so innocently in the middle of the road, suddenly, Ricky felt the log couldn't wait. Emmanuel was going ahead and not thinking about the danger hiding in the here and now. Ricky was a hunter, and something about a great tree downed in the road that had been clear since yesterday's report, felt completely out of sorts. It almost looked, *placed...

Ricky called out once more and Emmanuel shouted, exasperated, "That's a Tomorrow Problem! and you know that!"

Ricky's expression stopped short. His gaze dropped. The flash of hurt, disappointment, even anger, across his generally mild natured friend, brought Emmanuel's heart to his throat. His stomach sank, watching Ricky keep himself from shaking his head, and jogging to catch up to his Alpha. Something closed off in his chest. 

Emmanuel sighed. He rolled his eyes and grabbed Ricky's shoulders, pushing him back down the hill, as if to say, *you want me to go look, fine, let's go then, hurry up* moving around, he pushed Ricky to the slope side of the log, and Emmanuel paced up and down the hill side of it, grumbling softly. As if impatiently, he hopped back over to Ricky's side of the log, scraping his pants as he did so.

 It did not move.

 Emmanuel was aware of the damn thing, obviously.

It was sizable, and would likely require man power and a truck to try and haul it, with saws to break it down to movable pieces. Logistics. Bullshit Emmanuel didn't want to deal with but had to because of the role he had been given, yet had no time for. 

"Satisfied?" Emmanuel said, throwing up his hands. Dead-panned, Rick turned away and hopped over the log, continuing up the hill.

"Wha- Don't you walk away from me!" Ricky stopped, his brow furrowing. He was facing away from his friend, towards the path his friend was going.

If Em was gonna start trouble, Ricky Tan be Damned he wasn't by his side. And clearly, Emmanuel did not want a 'Ride or Die' friend tonight. 

"What do you want, Em! Go? Stay, guard, sit, fetch, the fuck you want from me, just tell me and I'll do it! But I'm not letting you do it by yourself!"

Emmanuel stopped short and his jaw dropped slightly. The shine of his red hair looked like cooling coals under the shadows of the moon. Meanwhile, Ricky, raven haired with a bit of scruff on his face, looked like his head  had turned down in himself, as if expecting to be beaten and was offering to submit, but would do so like a man, standing.

"Why can't you just let it go Em, all's settled, nothing has changed, and everyone is still afraid!" Emmanuel opened his mouth a few times as if to speak but found not a word to reach his throat, which was bared as he looked up towards the hilltop where Ricky stood. 

"Face it em, you can't promise anyone's safety, you can't guarantee we will make it through winter. The pack is too big for you to handle alone, and your making decisions that keep undermining your seat!"

Emmanuel felt his mouth frown open, realizing he was losing Ricky too... and he knew why...

"You, you don't understand Rick, I have a-" 

"A death wish?..." Ricky spoke softly, kicking down a big stick in his way back down as Emmanuel continued up the dusty path to meet Rick in between... his defeat, his fear, his guilt, rose like a hot poker to his lungs. Bellowing in a low growl, he shouldered past Rick, the man swaying slightly, defeatedly, submitting.

Emmanueln stood a few paces above Rick, cursing the air he breathed, "You think it's so bloody easy, do it better then? Feel free to take it from me then!"

"I'm on your fuckinf aid, goddammit!" Ricky snapped, gripping Emmanuel by the amulet at his neck. A moon, in hammered steel, heavy on his chest, "You think I want this, this, thing, from you?" Rick said, hot tears gathering in his eyes as he wrangled Emmanuel closer by the chain at his neck. "I don't need shit from you Em! I'm not here because I'm depending on you and have no choice. I Chose, to stay here by your side. And I've never gone back on that oath, and I should kick your ASS for suggesting otherwise!" Ricky snarled through clenched teeth and a locked jaw.

Emmanuels eye fell to Ricky's twin pendant, a rope of "stars', the soft dazzle of tiny diamonds woven into the chain, blinking softly in the moonlight, like a halo around his neck, a compass rose handing over his heart..

Rixky had every reason and purpose to follow Emmanuel to his end, even if it meant it could be tonight, if he crossed over that hill... if he crossed a line...

Emmanuel, pursed lips, almost trembling, wrinkled his nose and shoved Ricky away, "Ain't no ship and crew for me to go down for-"

"But there are people counting on you, and without you it is full ass anarchy! There are too many people taken in from too many places out of their zones, you're going to end up with a rogue pack, you think I want to fight for territory and scrap with the likes of Lelani?compete for resources if fucking Brandon?!"

At the mention of the name Emmanuel winced and gasped through his nose. A pain punching through his rough exterior.  He turned tail and marched up the hill, trying to leave Rick behind before it was Rick doing the leaving. Like a last word in a lover's quarrel, except it was between a Captain, and his First-mate... had been since the attempted mutiny some time ago. Ricky had yet to let Emmanuel down. But even so...

Steps crunching up the loose sandy bit of road, sending little rocks and grains tumbling down, Emmanuel called back, "This is something I have to do. For all our sakes! You got your orders, don't care where or when, just say yes and go."

"Um. No"

"What's that?"

"You fucking heard me Em."

"I heard you yeh, but you heard me!" Emmanuel said, continuing his cadence up the hill.

"Don't give a fuck about your rank, Captain " Ricky growled, "First mate's got the right to question you, get a say in things and I say whatever you are doing, going up there, is a mistake. You're too drunk and roughed up and pent up to go up *there*."

"I don't want a guard, I don't want a babysitter, I want to know 'WHY'!"

Emmanuel barked, his voice seeming to snap the attention of even the trees. It was quiet between them, their eyes locked as they glowered at one another, neither refusing to back down, and neither walking away. It was an impasse of wills of what was the wrong thing or right thing to do. What was sensible and what was risky. Each man had their way with the crew when they were at sea once upon a time. Each man's word was respected and followed, and where it wasn't, they supported one another. It was vital to survival that they had listened to one another then, as they needed to now...

The soft cool breeze from the lake drifted through and in the dark cover of trees over a narrow dusty road, with no signs or fence posts, moonlight applying through the trees. Emmanuel's eyes, steely in their resolve, shone like a beast who was hunting prey.

Ricky knew that look. And it was what he was afraid of. Not because he would be the prey, no... he was afraid of what Emmanuel might do once he got up *there. That this infatuation with death and its friends, triggered by the brash words of another leader in his crew once upon a time, was going to get 'my mate Em' killed. Or worse. Worse was always an option...

"You think going up *there* is going to solve your problems? You think finding power and comfort in lording over *him, wasting your breath asking 'why', is going to unlatch that fucking steel door and stone wall around your heart? Don't act like I haven't seen it. You're in pain, and this paint ain't one you can just muscle through. Can't out talk it, can't out walk it, run from it or fight it-"

"But I have to face it. It's what I need to do! I can't live like this, wondering when the next strike will come for me and mine-" 

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't get involved with the shit going on *up there. Alpha or not, going up *there, alone is not going to solve your problem!"

"Nah mate, it won't. But I'll be damned I won't face them m'self, 'an let someone else take another knife in the back meant for me." 

Ricky was quite a beat longer before shaking his head. "Just... don't be long, Em... I mean it..." Ricky mumbled. His brow furrowed and he let out the harsh breathe he had been holding. His shoulders had dropped and he looked burdened, knowing Emmanuel could die tonight. "See you at sunrise." "See you." "IF your not back but then-" Ricky warned, his tone flat and cowering from what he wanted to really say, or rather, what he did not, "Don't say I didn't tell you so". He shook his head once more and turned to go back to camp while Emmanuel turned to go forward. They were different men. But they respected one another in the end. Ricky was right, Emmanuel wasn't going to find peace by laying into the traitor on the hill, but Emmanuel was also right. He needed to hear it from the traitor's own lips, why an attempt had been made on his life. Why did his best friend, an old first mate, try to kill him?

"All fun and games" he muttered, rounding the path to the hilltop, and crossing over...

The quiet all around, like the eye of a storm, a storm that was quickly taking over, losing itself under the watchful eye of the Hunter's Moon.

**

Copia was a Vampire, of course he did not need sleep the way other mortals did. It was recreational, a way to feel different from all the hours of waking. But with some, The Dark Gift had bestowed something of an oracular nature to their suspended minds. In dreams, they were part of the meditative worlds of a wakeful mind. But tonight, he wasn't so much meditating new, as remembering old things. Old things that kept rearing their heads like hydras on the stage of his consciousness, and so, it was thusly, he dreamed...and remembered...

*

Jimmy was huffing, hard, the smell of the dry wood used to make walls on stages filled his flaring nostrils, his moist breath and little beads of sweat fell to Copia's shirt. Jim thrust once more into Copia, making the Cleric whimper and choke back a breath taken in too fast. It was almost like a punishment. "Is that how you fucking want it baby?" He purred, low, a soft snarl to his voice, Fingers covered in the drool and bloodied froth on the fingers that were three deep and shoved down Copia's whimpering mouth. Copia felt the rogue in his cheeks flush deeper as he was now, further aroused, sucking and gnawing on Jim's fingers. He had wanted Jim's attention all day, wanted his jealousy, maybe a little bit of his rage. Copia lapped up such attention the way a loyal pet would to its owner's outstretched hand. It was how he knew affection. 

But the sudden loss of Jim inside him, the mess slipping down and staining his pants, felt so empty… Jim pushed away, grabbing a leftover napkin from someone's hidden lunch bag, wiping himself off, tossing it.

"Were on in 5" Jim scowled, almost as if disgusted with Copia, or rather, his unfaithful behavior of late. They were a tumultuous pair. But God did they make good music together... man, they really could play. They really could sing. 

And they sang everything together.

Any music or vibe they were appreciating, was met together here in the old garage they had first fucked in, except the once broken down car was being fixed up, finnaly. And their close ghoul friends and Siblings of Sin would sit on the hood or the roof of it, lay in the seats, prop against the tire, stand a foot on the bumper, like they owned it, Christ, that car was everyone's car really. And this was everyone’s favorite “venue”.

 A small group of mutuals they might call friends, who could attend *The Show*, did so eagerly, since Copia and Jim and several rotating sets of those fans and friends, were able to jam with one of the Emeritus brothers.

And Jimmy, well, everyone loves Jim, and everyone knew Copia and Jimmy were the best of friends, once. Yet after the little scare in Poland, they were often called away from one another, to their respective coven, their families, and only now had returned to the ministry together. 

"The world's great young faces of the ministry." Sister Imperator had once said, upon welcoming them back. She viewed them like an item; 

Copia Emeritus, almost peewee mascot. The other from a ministry outreach Family, the Golden Boy of the Defroques. Both, success stories, of the Ministry’s genius ideas about education, and recruitment. Prodigal sons coming home with expectations on their shoulders they didn't ask for. Pushed to do everything together to agitation, once friends now privately were rivals. Almost enemies. Forced together like they were some blood betrothal made by old weirdos in a pub in L.A. when James Defroque had been with Papa Nihil, and Sister Imperator. The Psalterians too. The whole gig was like everyone was playing the boys like marionettes. And so the young men, forced together, little angsty rebels they were, decided they wanted their own freedoms, and hence this unapproved garage band was born.

They were young and feeling things intensely and for the first time. Copia mostly wanted to play instruments, he had nothing to say to Jim, that Jim hadn't heard before. He didn't want to. His aloofness about Jim lately had hurt his friend. And in sweet revenge, Jimmy hogged the majority of the singing parts, because that mother fucker had Everything to say to Copia, and he poured his heart into doing it with music, every time. Hoping that with music he would reach Copia's heart better. Funny enough, in their shared resentment of the ministry’s antics and the constant need to exist performatively, they had grown reluctantly closer, and now were trying at being lovers once again. But everyone knew, things were always rocky between them. Still, they came to support.

*Copia kept ignoring. Jimmy kept fighting to chase him. Then Jimmy would leave, and Copia would beg and pine for his return.* 

And now in this little garage with a handmade stage, Jimmy and Copia were reunited, supposed to play together, and be happy to be together, but tonight, tonight it felt like everything was looking at them sideways. The lights, the stage, their hearts, were all cut in half...*

The hate-fuck backstage had been over Copia's wandering affections. For a man so pious, Copia often strayed his heart away from "his Jim".

That realization slumped into Copia's mind and he hastily cleaned up, feeling embarrassed, anguished and numb from his hot and heavy encounter backstage. 

Jimmy didn't love him right now. Can't he fix it? Can't he make Jim fall in love with him, just one more time, “ Ohh Satanas, please, one more time?" The man pleaded with the powers that be...whoever was listening... that maybe on stage tonight, he will make Jim love him again… he’d get another chance to prove he was gonna change. That he was gonna love jim with everything he had…

Meanwhile Jimmy was busy, taking requests from his peers lined up to see *The Show*And funny enough, a visitor from the Ministry University, was watching the show and taking notes, studying the dynamics between these pair of real life star-crossed-lovers. They had to admit to themselves their own forbidden love with a Ghoul, as hard a life it was, was better than what Copia and Jim had going on at the moment.

The show began, songs of displacement, disappointment, nostalgia, and love, like a string of amorous  letters to one another. Jimmy's brow furrowed, his passion in his heart. Copia barely took his eyes off of Jim, his big eyes tense and wanting, playing his instruments with grace. Terzo watched with a scoff of disbelief. Copia was like a love sick bull calf, starting to upset, and play with more fervor, Jim side eying him with mixed emotions, the chemistry between them making the garage full of lights, beer, and people, feel like they weren't so much watching a jam sesh of a show, but rather, were observing the way two hearts were constantly beating in time and yet unable to dance together the way they wanted. It was moving. It was also kinda pathetic. 

"Oh god, my Little Sunshine is doomed" he smirked.

"Well that's not very nice", Omega said, whispering against Terzos neck, making the hairs stand up and his eyes flutter a moment. Omega had his glamor mask on when he came in. Now he had taken it off in this little haven for rebel sets.

*It was a different time then, the Christians and the pagans at odds once more but

Being gay was a little more accepted than a vampire making love to a spawn of the very shadows of hell, a Ghuleh, summoned to serve. Something second class, that Terzo was going to change for the better someday… he was sure of it.*

The lovers, Terzo and Omega, looked on at the infamous pair of Copia and Jim, whom by the very stars and deals with devils, were fated to ever be at odds, aside from brief interludes of peacefulness together. 

Terzo wanted to take that idea, mold it into something better that he wanted from this valley. A better place, where no one was a stranger. And no one was classed.  Sanctuary where the star-crossed, and the rising stars could find peace and pleasure. Real Freedom...*

Omega pressed against Terzo's back, his warmth encompassing and comforting. Terzo sighed. Folding up his little journal of notes and illustrations, he handed it to Omega, as of complying with the confiscation, peeved.

"You need to relax, Amatus," Omega crooned, brushing against Terzo with his flutters of quintessence. Terzo sighed loudly but let him in anyway.

"Just be in this moment with me. You don't know a story until you see it, feel it. Copia's is yet to be written, but he has that spark in him.” 

“And clearly sparks catch fire” Terzo said, a tired look on his face as one of the Ghouls playing on stage rushed to a corner to put out a little flame that had latched onto a curtain cover. Omega smiled and chuckled, a sound that, had it been any one else, would have sounded like a grumble from a beast. But to Terzo, it was the merry laugh of the Ghoul he adored with all his heart. “Ah well- can’t help it accidents happen. Look how you were born… a happy accident I treasure” Omega said giving Tero’s hip a warm squeeze, desirous, and soothing. “Mm-  accidents have a way of rearing up on you- he’s so criticised and shy, i never thought he would get up on a stage again for the rest of his life-”,

 “That means your efforts have not gone unsung. Please, my prince-" Terzos' gaze snapped up unashamedly at the Ghoul he always kept so close. 

Omega cupped his large hands around Terzo’s handsome face, fingers caressing in place affectionately. He swiped a long claw around the shell of Terzo's ear and along his jawline, making him shiver and offer a knowing smile back. As usual, Omega was right. Terzo was here, now, watching his younger brother play instruments with his gift, something he had thought he would never see, but as these shows got more lively and passionate over time, Terzo was also witnessing his brother take the mic on the stand. Even if Copia was only doing it because he’d finally had enough of Jim either hogging the singing parts of the setlist, or to be dramatic about their relationship on stage, belting his heart out. Jim had a natural gift to speak and sing, and enchant a crowd with his earnestness in every word he offered, but  Copia had a voice too…, and seeing his usually mild-mannered brother get turned on hot and make a sassy little shit of himself on  stage with his equally broken boyfriend, why it was sparking a will of fire and rage that impressed even Terzo.

 He still wasn't sure of Copia's future, or if all that must be would come true, but he knew he had a role to play in his little brother’s eventual rise...as he had promised...  for Terzo knew he was on borrowed time...and it was no use obsessing over things out of his control. He just wanted to make sure there was enough of him, his words and thoughts, left behind, for his brother's sake. It broke his heart and fed his anxiety like a hot coal-fire on a locomotive, chugging ever faster hissing and roaring. But thank the sun, and the moon and the stars, Terzo’s secret lover and holder of his heart, was reminding him to pump the brakes, to find joy instead of fear on his path in life. To seek love instead of complacency. 

To chase hope, more than dreams. 

So, Terzo sighed and leaned his head on Omega's shoulder, entwining his much smaller hand into Omega's. This small space was a sanctuary… Everyonehere was an ally to them, and to the young men on stage. There was support here, even if it was of the clumsy and dolted kind. Terzo was watching his younger brother blossom before his eyes, and he smiled softly to himself. Maybe he had accomplished what he had wanted. Everyone here was free to be, their pathetic, broken, mistempered and beautiful selves. Not one, a stranger. Not a-one, classed away from the other. No ghoul glamor masks in sight. The looks from the sea of faces finding solace in the raw sincerity of the stage they gathered to worship, music as much a god of idolatry as was, well, anything really… and there was peace in knowing that somehow. Everyone had come together, one in purpose- to experience what it felt like to live, to be in this moment, with the people on the stage.

"Hm. He really is decent, isn’t he. Good in fact." Omega commented, letting his hand slip to Terzo's waist. Terzo's smile widened, "I knew he could do it.. if he put his mind to it," he replied, reminding himself to appreciate the joy of this moment about that because while he knew  he would miss this. Miss out on what would become of Copia and his tumultuous heart, that he wouldn’t be there to see him perhaps walk to his destiny on a stage in front of thousands, and then step off of it, hopeful still the same sincere man as when he first mounted the steps to perform on stage tonight. Terzo knew not when or what time, but eventually, his eyes would be shut, and his ears closed... forever... unless, by the powers that be, someday, he could be brought back from the pits. Such a thing requires power and influence, even beyond what Nihil and all the brothers had combined. And he knew it wouldn’t  happen if Copia didn't grow into his destiny. If he didn’t learn to really, live, in the here and now, and see that there could be a place in the world for him…

Like a chain, every member of the Emeritus family had to learn to anchor themselves to one another, to rise above the demons that may bind them in their lifetimes. It was why Terzo obsessively penned and penciled his thoughts, ideas, mindful wanderings, high as fuck advice, and words to music yet written. He wanted to give everything he had to give Copia a fighting chance to find his own peace and happiness. Terzo was doing everything he could to be there for his little brother… because someday.. Someday…

Omega kissed Terzo's shoulder and his quintessence brushed once more against his own mate's troubled mind, 

"There is hope you know, there really is."

At his gentle words Terzo sighed and smiled almost sleepily. Omega was a relief to his spirit and balm to his soul. He loved him more than words could say, because of their differences. Not in spite of them. The way it seemed, Jim and Copia were determined to love, as they performed the requested setlists on stage, with passion, humor, and good old fashioned angst.

They really could make wonderful music together. And even seemed to enjoy doing it. 

*Perhaps there was hope for them. Perhaps there was hope for Terzo and Omega as well...*

 ***

*

 **

As Emmanuel approached the derelict cabin over the hill, if you could call the shanty that, in which the traitor was on house arrest, he noticed the guards on duty, half asleep.

"Asses up!" Emmanuel barked, to which the two guards sat up immediately. 

"Still chained in for the night" one said, giving a respectful nod.

"-give a fuck... look alive gents, and guard the road. I want to look into the eyes of the Lycan who betrayed this family" he seethed. The guards shared a glance and moved further down, knowing better than to get in Emmanuel's way when he was like this. He had his eye on one thing, and one thing only…

Brandon, "Judeas", a title given to the lowest of dogs. The man emerged from the ragged hovel he had carved out for himself. Lean muscled, short, but tough as nails. He was chained here. He had time to serve. Two lifetimes. One, for attempting to kill the alpha, and his family. Two, for putting cubs in danger.  

"Shoulda killed you!" Emmanuel hissed. 

"Funny how your precious mate keeps you from doing what's necessary, like a damned leash," Brandon spat, halting at the length of the silver and steel chain around his neck.

"What's necessary isn't your concern. What were you going to do, slip in to be an Alpha, let everyone mourn and weep me? And for what exactly, Brando- you despise *her so much and forget she was your friend!"

"I'd lose every friend on earth for the sake of this pack, don't talk to me like I'm some pup, whelping at your feet, oh gracious one-" Brandon barked. The silver collar at his neck making a sizzling sound as Brandon's dark lycan features emerged. The stripes and spots of scavengers, a breed of lycans noble and fierce, and quick to run alone, but be bold with a pack-gang behind them...like a band of hyenas...and he was daring to change from human form to his lycan form,more beast than man,  snarling and yellow eyed, fur phasing in and out of view, the wolfish features appearing like a mirage, halted only by the silver at his raw neck.

Emmanuel moved before he could stop himself, his rage burning hotter and hotter with every word from the traitors mouth, to the point Emmanuel had swung a deep left hook, down into Brandon's Face.

Brandon staggered back from Emmanuel's punch, seeing stars but stayed on his feet. He tugged against the chain and screamed in frustration. He had become the town punching bag- rightfully so... he could have killed everyone, though there was dispute in that regard. Either way, he had 200 long years to serve the lycans of this pack for his crimes. And with no place to put him really, every moment was a danger with him. 

And it is true, none should underestimate a wounded animal, or a man with nothing to lose.

Emmanuel showed his hand. He had laid harder into it than intended, his emotions running with a stampede of unbridled rage, but quickly stopped feeling badly about it. He felt he was owed at least one good swing at Brandon's mouth. Most would have a broken jaw, but, Lycans fighting Lycans, strength and healing factors and all that… hard to hurt them much and for very long, even harder against each other…

 Brandon smirked with his perfectly bared set of canine teeth, a half formed thing because of his collar, a band of shame, that even by magical means could not be broken. He’d wear the collar till the end of his life or his servitude, whichever came first…

"Why!" Emmanuel bellowed. Brandon kept his mouth shut and stood, leaning forward, taught against the pull of the chain, "Go on Em, you want to kill me Capn', here I Stand!"

The rage burning in Emmanuel's belly could have set the whole valley ablaze. Grabbing a littered bottle and snapping it against a tree he brandished it, "I can make it quick and I can make it slow Brando, don't fucking test me. No one else here but me. Start talking,or I start carving out that other eye!"

Brandon winced, a subtle recoil, hand twitching to come up to his ruined face. He had been branded a traitor, in front of the whole pack, and a representative from the King's court. There was no running from that. The singe of hair and flesh was still swollen on his face, his ruined eye pale and unseeing, throbbed in response. It had only been a couple weeks. But left to fend for himself, Brandon’s condition was poor. But he had fight left in him yet.

"You think some sort of bullshit mating ritual is going to fix your situation, you're lying to yourself and to everyone else. The war with the Bloodfangs is coming whether you want it in your lifetime or not. It's coming. And it's closer than you expect."

"Having an alliance and -"

"And mutt cubs?!" Brandon growled, Baring his teeth, his features turning more bestial in the moonlight, the snell of burning flesh tainting the air.

"Our blood is thin and you want to taint it with, *their kind?!" The traitor spat, the reality of the situation dawning on Emmanuel. He had suspected Milagro was carrying. But with another calling for her blood, his, and the potential cubs she could have, it was enough for Emmanuel to tremble, "There are no cubs. She's my mate. She was imprinted. You know our laws and shit, and already you were so keen to kill-"

"This war will not be stopped by alliances, and alliances without heirs!"

"I can name anyone heir, admit it, you came for me and mine because you wanted to, you wanted the seat! And you were willing to risk war with the Bloodfangs, to get it. I doubt it didn't occur to you that her death would have started that bloody war. These people would have been the first to suffer, and this valley. Everything we built, will go up in flames, and for what? So you can enjoy the burden of leadership on a soap box as rickety as your sea legs? Fucking Dog!" Emmanuel cursed, hurling the broken bottle. Brandon deflected the blow, eyes lingering in the deep green shine of broken glass as the hollow thunk of it  landed in an ash pile,disturbed flakes falling down.

Brandon regarded it like a sign.

* Emmanuel was going to be a disease to these people, and they who would dwell in this valley, would...possibly... be doomed*

"You want me dead Brandon, here *I stand, go on, live for your cause, suffer for it, do what's necessary, and face me like a man, and not like a low tailed coward, trying to poison his way to the throne. Go on, Go on then, pathetic wanker!" Emmanuel shouted, tearing open his shirts, exposing the pale skin over his heart. The down of red on his chest gleaming with sweat, "Take me down then, you bloody cunt!" 

Brandon hesitated. Emmanuel was keen, and he knew of Brandon's Cunning ways. It was why they had once worked so well together, like odd brothers, doing their deals and deeds, smuggling precious stones overseas. But if there was one thing Emmanuel never once tolerated on board with his crew of any tenure. It was mutiny. And Brandon knew Emmanuel just as well for it. He had been there to defend him from one before. One that had trapped he and his fearless leader here on land, instead of free at sea.

And so it had come to this; Emmanuel, who couldn't kill the Judas in his midst, not because his mate had advocated for his mercy... but because he couldn't bring himself to execute a man whom he had been raised with and known as a brother, these past 30 years. And now, Brandon was faced with a second chance, to execute Emmanuel. His cunning curated the means by which Emmanuel would have been poisoned the first time, and yet, he now hesitated to drive the daggered glass home... he couldn't.

The chains clinked as Brandon walked away from the broken bottle at his feet, and retired to his misery, "I did what I set out to do. It didn't work out. And these are my consequences. I may wish you dead Em, but I still play by some rules of honor… Prick."

"Honor? Christ, you have some now?!"

"My convictions are mine!" Brandon hissed, "'Do as you will with them, for I am done with thee' he said, spitting on the ground, which to Emmanuel, was essentially a personally conscripted set of words to say, "Fuck you". The gauntlet thrown, as if to say, the effort beyond that was not with Brandon’s salt.

 Brandon glowered, before slapping the "door" of his shanty closed, the empty clatter of busted wood pieces and detritus echoed out and only silence remained. The ashes falling down slid off the glass bottle which lay like a dead pigeon. A rage sacrifice to Death. 

Emmanuel’s mouth fell open.

"You...you...youuuCOME BACK OUT HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!" Emmanuel said rushing forward to get to Brandon, or maybe the bottle. Either way. Before he could fling open a door and out himself in danger, the guards who had heard the shouting, at first hesitantly waiting nearby, now were sure that at the moment, their duty was also to protect their citizens from themselves. They pair quickly muscled in. Emmanuel bucked against their hold. The Guards who had had enough of their fearless leader making things worse, tried to talk him down.

"Now is not the time, Emmanuel, Emmanuel!"

"Aregggahhh!"

"Your only baiting him man, leave it alone,"

"Leave it, leave it!" One said, standing stupidly between Emmanuel and his target of rage. But it was a lucky day. Emmanuel actually backed down this time, instead of getting to his locked target by any means necessary. He was in rage mode. It just so happened he was finally listening to someone else today.

 Sniffing in disgust, he swiped at a large bottle of rum, left unattended near the post where the guards had been standing. Emmanuel walked off, bitting off the cap and spitting out. Taking a deep swig. "As you were gents" he slurred after downing half the bottle in one go, blinking past the sensuously pleasant burn of drowning himself away from his pain.

He drank long and deep and walked slowly towards the hill, eyes to the ground at his unsteadied feet. Savoring each drop like he was a man dying of thirst on an island of dreams, his infamous sea legs failing him...

"Whhattcanya do with drunkn’ sailor, what can ye do-can ye do, do, do.." He sang to himself, laughing into the bottle as memories of better days swam up to the surface, mozying in dusty circles.

He stopped at a tree and spoke, as if rehearsing. Perhaps it was by luck he used a few moments too long, dallying... 

"Yes I went up there, pissed on the post and I was done. S'all iwnated, whatall any-mann wants, ay?" He said justifying himself. His eyes lingered long and dragged along the path of road, settling on a boulder near the bend like it was a clandestine sign, a marble monolith standing watch over the hills, a sentinal of the Valley… at peace in being hard and reliable as stone, and needing nothing from anyone…, "need to go back" Emanuel said, feeling sick suddenly, the view of the valley from the hilltop sending his senses into vertigo. 

He saw a neighboring set of hills baring his sight from the lake..the place where he had stood hours earlier watching *her. She, Milagro, his very heart he had watched walk away because she was hurting more than she was letting on. Something she suffered in silence. And Emmanuel wondered if she was still at Johan's trailer, or if she had "gone home... or with someone else..."

He trotted backward feeling a soft rush of air like something whooshing past. Vague whispers rose from the ground and the creak and stretch of the tree branches like fingers clawing at him. He felt his throat tighten and his knees tremble. The witching hour was upon him. And uncanny things could happen anywhere in this valley. It was like a temperamental cloud that could go anywhere. Everywhere. 

As the sense of impending doom closed on Emmanuel like a breathless gasp he felt his legs hit the back of something solid and wooden and he fell backwards, snagging a piece of bark off the log, in the road all the way down. 

Emmanuel’s head bounded on the hard beaten ground and the wind knocked out of his chest. His eyes glazed over, feeling a numbness spread over his face and body and then-

*fade to black*

*

"Em, em!"

The voice in Emmanuel's head rose. Emmanuel could see his body in third person, toppled over the log, a broken branch near his face. He felt queasy, and sick at once and then realized he was, in fact, in his own body, lying helplessly there, crumpled on the slope side of the log.

Sitting up with a grunt, he peered around under the dappled shadows of the nearby tree line, and he saw no one. No one there to have called his name, with only the smell of rum and dust to be his company. An itching pain started gathering at his hand and he hissed in pain, craning his sore, bent neck down to see the bottle had been crushed under his arm and shards of. broken glass had embedded into his palm, and all the rum gone. 

"Damn near broke me neck, bloody log." Groaning, he moved to untangle his heavy legs from one another and they fell on his side of the log with a thunk. The ground seemed fuzzy... almost surreal, as a purple haze rolled over the landscape, which seemed more surreal and threatening than before. 

"Emmanuel."

Emmanuel turned in a flurry as he scrambled to get up, brandishing the broken, shard toothed bottle like a knife, legs still wobbling, threatening to buckle. 

"Gon’fai me while'm down, not a'day mate!" He said, his words slurring together. It was clear he cracked his head, hard.

Sick dribbled up and out of his mouth as the world spun from his sudden movements. Disoriented he leaned against the log, another wave of nausea gurgling from his stomach. He spat out the sick to clear his mouth, trembling trying to find what it was that was calling his name in this eerie darkness of mystery.

"M'take ye an yer hide, come at me!-Oh- hrnnnggg!-..."

"Come now, Emmanuel. I thought we knew each other better than to trade empty threats."

Emmanuel's blood ran cold as his eyes focused on a figure appearing in the mist. Robes of black sails, and the smell of rotted driftwood and washed up seaweed, and the stench of Davy Jones locker, floated into Emmanuels nose, filling his lungs with the smell of sea salt and dead things. But strangely, there was a comfort in it for him- a familiarity. Yes. Death and Emmanuel were well acquainted with one another...

"Ahh, a' see... finally come collect’em me soul aye?" Emmanuel laughed" guess me head is more crackedn' ima brai bleed my way out. Not thendi was hoping for"

"Actually quite the opposite-"

At once the ground gave way and the log shuffled and rolled forward, over the patch of broken glass and down the hill. Emmanuel had to dive out of the way to avoid being knocked and crushed, the damned thing rolling down heavily as if marching to its end at the bend below. A soft cadence of death drums, sounded from the open earth, like a Deadman walking in front of the drum line, to his execution.

Adrenaline from the dive shocked Emmanuel sober, and his gaze flickered over the spot where he had been laying helpless only moments ago, unconscious.

"You always seem to elude me- and here I thought we were friends" Death chuckled, a low sorrowful sound that spoke of many ages past and yet many more to come. 

"Y-you called me? Got me up?"

Emmanuel swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest making his dizziness throb painfully in his ears.

"It is mine to orchestrate your death. What manner and time it happens, perhaps your gods know. I only know that the will in you has resolved against me. And here I shall chase your demise. It seems the name of your soul's home for you has changed... you don't have one for me to collect, and of course i need it's name" death chuckled crookedly.

Emmanuel felt angry, "The fuck does that mean? An’ what the bloody blazes do gods’ lots have a-do with me! Make me own luck like an honest man, er, honest as-" "Do not patronize me Emmanuel. You are a compass without a heading. It's the only reason I have not collected you today."

The words almost seemed to shock Emmanuel sober

"What?"

"By the stars Emmanuel, your story is not yet written. A conundrum that vexes me. You are untouchable until you find your true purpose, and your soul receives its name in it. Until you have something to live for, you are not alive, much less awake, for me to take."

"Riddle me this then mate, you're meant to chalk up my end in line with some cosmic force yeh? Know me well enough I don't give a damn about the gods. They never came through when my ships sank and leviathans made quick work of my crew. If my living was due to your grand graces, then I've thanked ye enough! I've sent loads of men to the locker and plenty more to the gallows. You're telling me my escape from a short drop and a sudden stop was some sort of divine intervention?"

"You said it, not me. You'll believe what you want to. Your time is either up or it isn't. But to answer your question, I'm not the one that called you awake. I merely had to see the possibility play out, see it for myself."

"Possibility. You mean..."

"I mean something or someone in your story's fate has called you awake from my means of collection. Clearly," Death said, motioning towards the log, continuing its march down the hill, slow and determined, towards the ledge beyond, the soft rumble of Death's ethereal voice like distant thunder clouds hiding the light of the stars. 

"Who?"

"Now that's life's mystery, isn't it, the way dying walks hand in hand with the concept of living... shame mortals bargain with their precious lifetimes and risk their deaths, hoping their pains will end, their sorrows shallow out, and their regrets be buried with them..."

Emmanuel looked down at his palm, the bleeding, the shards of glass, made his hand itch with pain, a searing heat really stinging his senses suddenly.

"I don't play with my life mate, I live it"

"Precisely"

"Fuck that supposed to mean-"

"It means, you should get up Em... unless you want me to collect you now which, by all means, welcome!"

Death opened a deep crevice in the earth that smelled of sea salt and cold winds. Emmanuel gasped, falling backwards to escape the void opening in front of him.

*

And then he woke. For real this time

. The dew of early morning misted on his red beard and locks of hair.

His legs were still thrown over the log. He had fallen and been knocked out, folded over painfully, his shoulders and neck awkwardly crushed into the ground on a broken branch.

The itch of pain in Emmanuel's palm had woken him, and before he knew it he was scrambling away from the log, half expecting it to roll on to him at any moment. It stayed still. 

Emmanuel sucked in the predawn air, feeling his blood rush in his ears. Where was death now? 

He sniffed the air and caught scent of the piles of leaf litter and damp earth. Trees waving their branches gently. All was peaceful...except for him. He shook his head, hissing in pain as the jostle to his skull made him feel giddy and sick. He backed from the dusty road into the treeline, holding on to a tree trunk with his arms circled back, the rough bark scraping between his shoulder blades. It was then he caught movement on the other side of the road. He slipped down and on hands and knees, crawled forward, silent and unseen, watching the shadows on the opposite side of the road move sluggishly through the shadows growling lowly at one another. The scent of sweat-salt and damp fur drifted into Emmanuel's nose and Emmanuels brow knit tightly at the discomforting feeling of being watched.

Emmanuel muttered to himself, "They shouldn't be out this far past the mountain-" and as if confirming his suspicions, the growling snap of teeth coming for him sent Emmanuel bursting out from his hiding place, and swiftly went barreling through the brush to emerge on the slope side, hauling ass down the hill. Without looking back he knew what was after him... *Loups.

A more human set of the creatures emerged onto the road, their natural forms capable of walking the roads of men. They were too few in number, and knew better than to face Emmanuel, or his pack, head on. He was too good a fighter and too cunning a man, and his people too numerous to engage in open war. 

But even man cannot escape fate- and with a great upheaval, the Loups, an infernal breed of man and beast, combined their strength and sent the great log bouncing and rolling down the hill after Emmanuel. Death by misadventure, left both fingers to be pointed to their kind, even though they were clearly invading the Valley. But without proof, even the King in his far away lands could not hold them accountable. They couldn't be disbanded. And their kind had been recently allowed the status of ‘Lycan’ to follow them. In the political atmosphere, for now, they were an untouchable novelty, both regarded and hated. And their reputation for cunning and cruelty, clearly had followed them to this road.*

Emmanuel chopped down the hill, blowing air and sucking it in with precision, perfect form optimized for speed, ears perked at the grumble and heavy jostling of the log nearing closer to his back side, coming for him.

If he changed now he would be forced off the road and would be fair game to what was trotting on the treeline beside him. Death by crush or death by ambush. Neither a way he wanted to go. He had no time. In fact it had run out.

As a curve in the road approached, Emmanuel in his speed leapt and rolled towards the boulder he had passed on the way in, finding shelter behind it, despite being in the log's path. The great thing hit the boulder and bounced, flying off the ledge of the high hill, crashing into the dense foliage below, the terrible sounds of snapping saplings and broken things thundering through. Emmanuel was panting, snatching air into his lungs like a man desperate from drowning. Peering over the edge where the log had met its end, he shivered... it seemed there was more at play in the powers that be than he had originally thought...

**

**

Milagro sat with her head in her hands in Johans trailer. Tears streaming and her demeanor quiet. Whispering, as if speaking aloud would speak her fears into existence; Milagro regarded Johan sitting across the table from her their conversation of discretion playing out late into the night. Johan's sons were asleep with his wife in the trailer loft, and it was only the two of them, he and Milagro, under the tiny square light above the dining section.

"Millie, you won't be able to move forward unless you face the fear" Johan said gently, taking her hand in a gesture full of care and perhaps, even a little bit of affection, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as she held his hand tightly. 

"I don't even know who to tell, much less tell first." she said softly.

Johans face saddened, "You know... you have choices... Just because you are someone's mate, doesn't mean they have a say in your life completely-"

"Unless they are the ones who's roof I'm under."

There was some truth to Milagros' observation. She was here because she had to go into hiding after the incidents in L.A., with the hopes of being able to return to the Ministry. Quietly she was being harbored with Emmanuel's pack.

 Emmanuel had long imprinted on her, from their times together years prior. Now he was able to claim it fully, and afford her the security of being under his pack's protection.

...Except....

*

"Millie, I don't think Emmanuel would be the one to toss you onto the street for this." Johan laughed gently, "I know Teddy would bend heaven and earth for you-"

"It's Copia..."

"What?"

"The father... I'm almost sure it's him..."

"The Cardinal? At the estate?" Johan said quizzically, leaning forward to peer out the thin pane window towards the spires and stones far, far, away, across the woods and hills."Well this valley is under the Emeritus family's protection, we harbor here but you-"

"If it's his, it shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't be able to...to-" she sniffed, wiping her nose with a napkin Johan handed to her. It was true, Fully fledged, Blooded Vampire's, are given many dark gifts, and as such are more fulfilled when they choose Life Eternal. Yet there is one thing a Blooded Vampire cannot do...breed...

"Perhaps the gods and fate have intervened" Johan offered.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Milagro whispered, looking down at the way her stomach looked normal despite the twisting sensation of absolute fear, joy, disbelief, and well... the tiny suspected bun in the oven.

In all honesty, with the timing just right, hell, it could belong to anyone- any of the men in her life she adored and enjoyed. 

Emmanuel... Teddy... Jim... Copia...

But there was something knotting in her stomach like a steel fist. Her blood knew it's blood master. And she felt it being shared with something that felt quiet, but new. As if she could sense something growing within her, and her surety, despite not holding much water, given Copia's circumstance, she felt like she knew, if she was indeed pregnant, it was his...

Johan squeezed her hand, his head bent down much like Milagro's in reverent silence. Patient and comforting. 

Except he stared at the way their knees were almost touching.

...Feeling her hand in his, soft and strong., his thumb slowing, as it traced the warm valleys and peaks of the knuckles of Milagro's, tucked so safely between his own... the silence between them could have echoed the drop of a needle onto the scuffed linoleum.

"I.. I should go, it's late" Milagro said suddenly, standing up, breaking the quiet spell between them. Johan felt his heart sink, "Please, don't go"- is what his heart was saying. As if the little light in the room, that he had grown warm in his chest, was being taken away with her brisk exiting.

He barely knew her. But he had been watching her during her time in the camp, and spent some time with her. The impression she made on him was nothing short of endearing. He liked her.

He liked the way she carried herself with grace and spunk, the way she smiled and was eager to learn about everything from harvesting mushrooms to caring for those under Johan's own care- the vulnerable, the old and withered, how she held their hands with warmth that lit up the room... seeing her trot down the steps and out the door now, he couldn't just sit by and watch her go. After a solid minute of silence, trying to decide what to do, he happened upon a thought...

"She's in the pack too right?" He reasoned quickly, as he bolted out after her, the screen door to his family's trailer clapping shut. 

"'If she is with child, that would put her under my care."

*Johan was right. As the leader of the ministering faction of Emmanuel's pack. He led those who served the vulnerable people and special needs of the community. This included Cubs, the Elderly, Pregnant people, those with illness or disability, and those who just needed minding, needed help, a social safety net that made sure there was a place for them here. She had spent more time in this faction during her rotations over the past few weeks than the rest.and she was a natural. Her hard work, and kindness, her very fire and laughter had graced his ears, and now, he couldn't even imagine her trying to do this on her own, and he knew her mind was holding together by threads. She tried to hide it. But he knew... by the north stars shining above, Johan felt called to Milagro, to protect her. To keep her sane and safe under his care. The magnetism of her light, utterly undeniable. The blossoming of affection for her hammered hard in his chest, and it was like he couldn't get to where she was going fast enough. He spotted her walking away, under the patch of trees heading back to the main camp, where the festivities were continuing in full swing. Nowhere near where she should go in her condition...

He followed after her, "Wait! Millie!- ow!' Johan said, stumbling over a branch in the footpath. Rounding the bend down the hill he called out to her, "let me walk you home at least!" he panted. She turned and smiled a little. Something thankful in it, made Johan's heart sing.

"I can walk just fine on my own but thank you for the-" "I'm sure you can," Johan interrupted as he jogged to her, meeting her where she was. She was stubborn. He liked that too...

"It still is wiser to have company on nights like these. The festivities get quite rowdy and well... the moon is up but trees make the path darker" he said, falling into step beside her, kicking away another branch in the path. Johan's white plait of hair swung over his shoulder, gleaming atop his family's traditional white tunic, with bold colored threads, rich in heritage, embroidered in patterns around the neck and sleeve ends. He almost glowed in the night, and as much as she was trying to withdraw from his attention, Milagro couldn't help but be stunned a moment, seeing him now as they stopped under a patch of moonlight. 

"I guess that is true... though I doubt I'll have too much trouble navigating" Milagro said. The linen trousers she wore billowed around her legs, her pace determined and unafraid as she marched forward, trying to be brave, trying to need no one and no thing. Johan wondered at her. So welcoming and warm, yet so vulnerable and guarded.. she was pushing him away. He couldn't have that.  

"Then on principle. The Alpha's mate walks home alone at night, she should have protection-"

"I don't need it" she said, a little polite snip to her words, the momentary spark forgotten as she turned away.

"Then humor me" he said, exasperated, catching her wrist in a firm yet gentle hold. Had he grasped harder he would have gotten a broken nose, but Milagro stopped herself from such an outburst. She felt most frozen. There was a pleading in Johan's blue eyes that made her stop and still... like glaciers holding time together in their gaze, and by its novel beauty one couldn't bear to look away... Like the space between them was nothing but dark open water, and he stuck out of it, like gods thumb on the mountain, an island of something safe to cling to when the night was dark and the depths full of terrors.

Once more they rewarded one another. The breath of trees swayed above them, the cool misty lake sending a breath of air from its waters. The firelight danced in the distance. It was like the moment was patiently waiting for the pair to take it in.

"Please... it's the least I could do..." 

The silence between them felt heavy and yearning. He owed her his life. He owed her his family's life, his sons, really. She had stood up for Johan at the council and defended her call for mercy towards him, when he had needed it most...

He had managed to finger the traitor in their midst, even if he had to pick the lesser of evils and place others in danger, his efforts saved his family, saved Emmanuel, and then saved Brandon and himself. He had a noble heart. His convictions, he stood by, even if it meant to sacrifice himself.

*Who would she be to deny that of him...*

Milagro sighed and let his grip slip down to her hand, steadying her. 

Johan felt a fire grow inside him at her touch, like she had awakened something that had so long been asleep within. Milagro felt like butterfly wings were flapping against a cage, and the only way to save them from tearing themselves apart, was of course, to let them go...to set them free...

Another minute passed, Johan's eyes looking into Milagros. Her ash blond hair swept over her shoulders as the wind picked up,flipping it like a scarf, covering all but those gorgeous summer sea green eyes. 

Finally, she relented, her gaze dropping away as she submitted to the idea of support, of care, of help, being placed in her way.

"...C'mon then... I'm ready to go home..."

Relief flooded Johan, and was quickly followed by a growing sense of anticipation. "Right. Let's get you home" he said, his voice dropping a little. Heat flushed across his face as she kept hold of his hand as they continued to walk, with him a pace or two behind her as she led the way. He felt peaceful, like this felt the most natural thing between them. He felt no need to look back and worry about his family, or the rushing excitement that came with a night like this... This time, the end of season celebration was Indira's night with their sons, and Johan was a free man for a night. What it would hold for him he didn't know. But what he did know was that he was where he belonged...

Mostly…

....and that made his wolf-heart, sing....

[kittinkanin]

So I was fighting a blooded vampire and she resurrected a dead goat. That’s new.