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Nov 4, 2019

In the Shadows : One

Summary: Jughead Jones, resident werewolf, just wants to protect his family and his back from the incoming doom of The Red Circle. Sweet Pea and Lily join him to help keep the Southside safe from human tyranny. Meanwhile a demon princess named Myra and succubus named Lavender had a plan to bring on the apocalypse. ({coming soon: Ao3 link & Masterlist))

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Jughead Jones x OC, Sweet Pea x OC, Kurtz x OC

Warnings: Blood, light violence, cursing

Word Count: 5k+

A/N: Huge thank you to everyone who has supported me through my recovery and an even bigger thank you to @the-gargoyle-queen for letting me use her OCs in this fic (Lily and Myra). She is the most amazing friend I’ve ever had and she is my biggest source of inspo as well as my biggest supporter. Thank you for your gorgeous moodboards (like the one up top) and for being my beta <3

Part One: On the Night of the Moon

Basil. She needed basil, as fresh as possible. Gods, why did she run out at a time like this? Her flashlight bounced across the ground as she tried to find the green plant she so desperately needed to bring down Sweet Pea’s fever. It had spiked so suddenly and she hadn’t even realized that she was out. He had managed to croak out where to find his recipe for a simple potion to bring it down. It was in his grimoire, towards the back where most of his remedies were.

She had everything but basil and all of the plants in her garden seemed to wither at once the day before. It was a sign. A terrible sign that she didn’t even want to think about decoding. But sooner or later she would have to. Something had arrived here, something rotting and horrible. Something that sucked all the magic out of their garden.

Her nervous eyes looked up at the moon, beautiful and full. Full. That was the issue. No one on the Southside went out on a full moon if they knew what was good for them. Actually, no one went out after dark anymore. Not with what has been going on. Not with the red circle and their guardsmen out with guns full of silver. She looked human at least. She had no reason to fear them, per se. But what they were after? That was something anyone would be afraid of whether they were armed or not.

Something caught her eye, bright green leaves sprouting from the forest floor. The light shook in her hands as she dropped to her knees to collect as many leaves as she could without killing it. Who knows when she’d need more. She took out a leather pouch to put them in. That’s when she heard it.

A low, feral growl sounded in the unusually quiet woods. Wolves weren’t much of a danger for witches, not normally. This wasn’t any regular wolf though. It was the creature that had plagued Riverdale with so much death and destruction the past few weeks. It was the catalyst of the rift between those that were human and those that were not.

Dry leaves crunched loudly under heavy paws. The underbrush swayed, adding to the noise that had the fair haired witch frozen in place. The flashlight in her hand moved as she managed to project the light onto the shaking bushes. She didn’t want to see what it was, not really. However morbid curiosity had her looking anyway. Something about wanting to see death’s face before she met him.

Slowly it broke from the brush. A face that probably should have been white was actually grey with smudges of mud. She’d seen plenty of werewolves before, most of them were harmless if their heads were on straight. This one however even smelled like death as frothy drool dripped from its gaping mouth. Eyes a bright sunshine yellow that seemed to glow in the dim light. It was about three and a half feet tall, which made it about a head taller than any healthy wolf.

It wasn’t at full height though. Shoulders were hunched as it crouched low to the ground so that it could spring at any moment. Their eyes were connected and she could not find even a trace of humanity in them. No, this creature was too far gone. Too far settled into madness. She realized that it probably didn’t even know what it was.

Suddenly it shifted its weight onto its back feet before lunging forward with a powerful leap. She couldn’t even scream as terror strangled her.

It happened so fast.

A black blur tackled down the pale wolf that was now in midair. A dark furry mass growled, staining the already dirty fur with red. It was a hard hit but the newcomer did not have a good grip with his teeth. The smaller wolf was thrown off in less than a minute.

Lily grabbed the pouch full of basil leaves and scrambled backwards out of the way. The two wolves fought vehemently, the dark one letting out sharp yelps of pain more than a few times. The white one was thrown back again finally as howls let out in the distance. It seemed to cock its head at the sound before snarling. Promptly, the large wolf turned and bounded away.

Lily shown her light on her savior. His once fluffy coat was slicked back in places with thick liquid that she knew was blood. He wasn’t putting weight on one foreleg. His eyes were on her, a dark gold color with specs of honey. There was sanity in them, a kind of calmness. A breath escaped her chest, one she had not realized that she had been holding.

The wolf padded towards her with a heavy limp. It looked at her curiously, head cocked as if to ask what she was doing here.

That’s right, the herbs! Lily looked at her pouch and saw she had plenty of basil in it now. She bit her lip, looking towards the werewolf before glancing back towards the cottage where she lived in the woods with Sweet Pea.

“Come with me,” she finally said softly, “I can heal you, just come with me.” She stood up and offered her hand to him as if he would take it. Suddenly she felt foolish, a blush light on her cheeks as she put her hand away. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

She turned, hoping that he’d follow her back. After taking a few steps she heard him behind her, following without any objection. He found himself wondering who she was or, more specifically, what she was. She didn’t smell totally human. In fact, she smelled like warm sunshine on an early summer morning. It was pleasant if not somewhat intoxicating. Hopefully she’d be aware that he could not change back until the moon set. This is the form she’d have to tend to for now.

The walk back was short, only about fifteen minutes. Every time she heard a leaf crunch or twig snap, Lily stopped and listened. She waited for a sign that the vargulf had come back to finish them both off. The dark wolf behind her hadn’t done much damage to it during the fight. It only left because it heard the rest of his pack coming closer. It was sick, not stupid.

Once outside the stone house she looked back at her pursuer. He blinked up at her with those same beautifully captivating eyes. She felt her breath catch in her chest again before unlocking the door and walking inside. “Sweets?” She called out into the darkness. He groaned a response from the worn couch he was laying on, half-conscious.

“I need your help.” She said as she walked in. The wolf hesitated at the entrance, looking behind him, scanning the edge of the woods for any sign of someone following them. Once he was satisfied with the silence of the trees, he hobbled inside.

The door shut behind him on its own. He noticed that the girl had flicked her wrist towards it slowly. A thought clicked on in his brain as realization hit him. She was a magic user, most likely a witch. Though he had never met a witch that smelled as wonderful as she did.

He heard the creaking of furniture and shuffling of feet. A tall man wrapped in a multitude of blankets appeared looking more pitiful than intimidating. He smelled woody, like the earth after a fresh spring rain. It was pleasant and much more witch like, the wolf mused.

The male witch spotted the wolf and halted, a scowl spreading across his face. “You brought that into the house?!” He snapped at the witch who dwarfed in front of him, “Daisy is right in the other room! Are you crazy?” He stepped between the two that had just entered protectively. He cut off the wolf’s path towards the rest of their home.

“Nathaniel, calm down.” Lily said dryly and he flinched at her using his real name. “He saved my life and he’s hurt. I need your help healing him.”

Sweet Pea huffed indignantly, “you know my magic won’t work while I’m sick.” He replied in a sour tone. “Even if I wasn’t sick, it won’t work on him in that form. Did you get the basil?”

Lily rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the way. She walked up to the werewolf who was now sitting on the wooden floor. Her hand softly pet his head between his ears, a warm smile on her face. “Go back to the couch and I’ll clean him up.”

“Him? What about me?” Sweet Pea asked in an offended tone. Shouldn’t he come first? He was her best friend and the father of her child. Certainly she should be healing him and not this stranger donned in fur.

She sighed in annoyance of his obvious jealousy, “I’ll brew your potion first then, okay?” Her voice was heavy with frustration. The warlock on nodded in response before sulking back to his place on the couch, his body lost under the layers of blankets.

Lily grabbed his moleskin grimoire. He had wanted a leather one but moleskin was all they could afford. She had been saving up for months to buy him one for his birthday. Unfortunately their daughter, Daisy, became extremely ill and needed to see a doctor in town. It was a sickness beyond anything they could handle with simple potions and magics. Every penny she had pinched was gone.

These thoughts perturbed her as she went to the bookmarked page. A frown was on her delicate face as she began to brew the easy concoction. Hopefully this would be all he needed. They couldn’t really afford another doctor visit. Not without skipping out on a bill or two.

She added the basil to the part she had already half brewed. Once she finished the rest of the steps, she poured the contents into a mug with a broken handle. Purple tinted steam rose up out of the dark liquid. A light, herbal scent wafted from it.

The mystery wolf sat in the entryway still, not daring to overstep his welcome by going somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. He watched the sad look on the witch’s face and wondered what caused such a sullen expression. He was frowning too, though you couldn’t really see it. Emotions didn’t translate too well in this form.

Once the potion had cooled enough so it wouldn’t burn going down, Lily took the mug to Sweet Pea who was almost asleep on the couch. She peeled back the layers of old quilts and crocheted yarn blankets to see his tired face. “Here, Pea.” She whispered to him as she handed over the mug.

Sweet Pea sat up enough to swallow the earthy liquid. It tasted like soil and was bitter going down, but almost instantly he felt relief. Chills stopped running up his spine as he lay back down. A small cough sputtered from his throat as he closed his eyes. “Thanks, Lils.” He mumbled groggily, the medicine taking effect.

She watched him fall into the deepest sleep he’d had in weeks. A smile lit up her face as she tucked him in lovingly. The wolf, watching them intensely, mistook this tenderness as affection. It wasn’t. Not truly. Sure they had tried the whole dating thing, tried to make things work even after Lily mistakenly became pregnant. But in the end they were better as friends than lovers. They were compatible, sure, yet not quite compatible enough to last.

So while it looked like they were a couple, it really wasn’t something so serious. Lily cared deeply for Sweet Pea and he cared deeply for her. But love? They were never in love. It was just the comfort of not being alone that they loved. After all, they had no one else in their lives. Orphans with only each other.

But of course, he did not know any of this. He didn’t understand the pang of regret he felt in his heart. Especially since he had his own fair haired woman waiting for him on the Northside. Though admittedly things were not so great between him and Betty at the moment. The more violence that the Northside rallied for, the more uneasy it made him, and the less she understood why he found himself not wanting to ever risk crossing the railroad tracks. The only reason he did these days were to see her.

Lily set the mug down on the small end table next to the couch and walked over to the werewolf. She kneeled down, still smiling that beautiful smile that had his pain fading away. “I guess you can’t change back yet. I’ll still clean you up though, okay?”

He cocked his head at her, not wanting to be too vocal and wake up the sleeping members of the household. She pet his fur between his ears again, making his mouth open and tongue lull out. It was perhaps the most non threatening image of any wolf that had ever existed. He looked like an overgrown puppy that just wanted attention.

Which was somewhat true. He did want attention, but only hers. Quickly he cursed himself for even thinking that way.

Lily got up and motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. He trotted, nails clicking against the hardwood floors. The sound caused her smile to grow ever so slightly.

Once they were in the kitchen she went under the sink to grab a few towels and what appeared to be a modern first aid kit. He felt this to be a little strange for a magic user to have, though he truly didn’t know a whole lot about witchcraft and what could and couldn’t be done.

Simple cuts and burns, bug bites and bee stings, didn’t really need magic. It could be seen as a waste of energy. There was such a finite amount that using it on any little thing was truly a waste. Lily practiced magic when it was absolutely needed and she strictly only used white magic.

Sweet Pea wasn’t as reserved as her, using all kinds of magic (though mostly black) to do whatever it was he wanted to do. She tried to stop him, tried to get him to change, for black magic always comes with a price. Eventually you will owe more than you can give. This scared her deeply, not wanting to see him hurt in any way.

Lily put her hand on his head for a moment and closed her eyes, “What is your name?” She asked him then. It wasn’t out loud, rather a voice inside his head and he knew what she was doing.

“Jughead Jones.” He thought back to her. She drew her hand away, not wanting to use any more energy than she had to. Her smile faltered a fraction and he knew exactly why. It was his surname. Jones. His father was the alpha of the largest wolf pack in Riverdale. Those woods they had been in was his territory and he made sure all of Southside knew that.

“Jughead,” She repeated out loud and he found himself adoring the way she spoke his name. “Interesting,” she giggled then before wetting one of the rags. “I’m Lily Owens and that’s Sweet Pea on the couch. Just ignore him though, he’s being an overprotective grump because he’s sick.”

She started to wipe away the blood on his fur. The white rag began to turn pink with it. Jughead sat perfectly still, despite the tiny sparks of pain that flurried through him any time she hit an open wound. If Jughead had anything on the gods’ green Earth, it was control.

But if Lily had anything it was the master ability of picking up even the slightest changes of body language. It was magic that required no energy for her, so when she did touch these places on him she noticed the way his eyes seemed to change for a fraction of a moment. She found herself apologizing in a soft voice whenever this happened.

“You shouldn’t go back out tonight, in case it comes back. You won’t be able to defend yourself, I don’t think…” her voice trailed as the uncertainty in her heart made it waiver. Some of the places were inches deep from long canines sinking into soft flesh. The blood was thickest there, sticky with clots and almost black.

The healing ability of werewolves was fast but not nearly as fast as legends would have you believe. These cuts would scab and fade within a few days rather than a few minutes. It was totally possible to die from things other than silver bullets, though bullets would certainly do the job faster. Regular leaded ones. Silver bullets were actually quite inaccurate due to their weight and hitting something with on was more based on luck than marksmanship. This was something The Red Circle had yet to figure out. Some legends were created as a protective cover for the supernatural. Silver bullets was one of them.

By the time Lily was done cleaning off most of the blood, the rag she had in her hand was a dark and blotchy red. Jughead felt almost a weight lifted off of him as he could feel his fur no longer clumped together with his viscous life force. To be completely honest this was the cleanest he had felt in a very long time.

The witch didn’t need to convince him to stay. Her offer was quickly accepted. The black wolf nodded his head slowly to show that he would remain there with great appreciation of his hostess.

Lily smiled a beautifully genuine smile as she stood up, tossing the red piece of cloth into the sink haphazardly. She’d deal with it in the morning. As of now it was late, past midnight, and she was exhausted. Daisy would be up early without a doubt, though she’d probably pester her father first.

“Do you want me to get you a blanket or pillow or…something?” She asked, unsure of what a wolf would need for comfort. He chuckled inside his head at her, amused by how much she wanted him to feel good.

His answer came in the form of him limping towards the brick fireplace and laying down, curling into a tight ball of fluff. Lily understood this as a sign of him not needing anything and retreated into her own bedroom to try and get some much needed sleep. Although, to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure if she would even be able to knowing she had a Jones in the living room. Would FP come looking for him when he didn’t return home? Hopefully not.

+++

A purple haired demon clicked her long stiletto nails rhythmically across the oak table, obviously bored out of her mind. Waiting on assignments from her boss was even more tortuous than hell itself. She groaned after looking at the clock for the hundredth time.

The old door that led into the old house creaked and the demon’s black eyes lit up with hope. A petite blonde woman walked in, wearing a dramatically heavy robe. Dark makeup swirled around her equally dark eyes. “Have you eaten?” She asked cryptically.

Lav grit her teeth, almost compelled to tell her to go fuck herself however the small mark on her pulse point burned at the mere thought. “It’s been a few days. As you requested.” She finally replied in a strained voice. She could not disobey, not without severe consequence. Though sometimes Lavender wondered if living in hell would be less painful that walking the mortal realm under the heel of Myra’s boot.

And curse Satan for creating something as monstrous and evil as Myra’s father. The demon which taught her everything he knew. The demon that created an even bigger evil than himself. Probably, Lav thought bitterly, an evil even greater than the devil.

She was so impossibly hungry. The longer she spent on Earth with mortals the more she had to eat just to stay sane. But Myra, oh this fucking creature spawned in the depths of hell, forced her to starve herself for the past two days. It wasn’t good for someone as young as her. It wasn’t good at all.

“Excellent,” Myra said with a feverish grin that showed pointed teeth. “I have a very special conquest for you. There is a warlock in Riverdale. He’s been writing checks his body can’t cash and now my father requires his soul.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Lav drawled out in a bored tone. “You want me to fuck his brains outs.”

Myra snorted back a laugh at her crude comment. “Well, I can’t account for how much brain matter he actually has. Fuck his soul out instead.”

“But he’s a magic user. He’ll know what I am.” Lav countered, knowing that bedding a warlock could be dangerous. There were powerful spells that could seriously harm her kind. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very good at hiding her own darkness from others. She was easy to spot…if you knew things like her existed and walked the earth at least.

However, none of this was Myra’s problem. Myra’s problem was her father demanded this witch’s soul and her enslaved soul sucker just had to seduce him to get it. It shouldn’t be hard. Lav was good at what she did, whether she hid herself or not. Talent begets talent and her mother had been one of the best.

Lavender was in truth a hybrid. Her father had been human, her mother a demon. Though most demon women were infertile, barren, and totally incapable of breeding; her father had had just enough of a touch of magic to allow her to be conceived. It was nothing short of a miracle. The high ranking demons demanded the girl be recruited for the army of hell. An army that was to rise up and overtake the mortal realm of earth one day.

In short, the apocalypse.

And in the end, the prince of demons himself would have her under his thumb. Well, more specifically his daughter would have the hybrid under her thumb. Asmodeus bragged more often than not about how his daughter was the one to obtain a virile hybrid into the ranks of hell.

“I don’t want you to just obtain his soul, Shoshanna.” Myra added, her voice dropping to something that sounded more grave for a heavier impact. The use of her old mortal name had Lav on edge, “You are to conceive his child.”

Lavender froze, “You want me to have a baby?” She asked, completely confused as to why anyone would want this. She had been told that because she was a hybrid that she was capable of breeding and that any lesser demon would use her for this purpose, but Myra assured her that she was not a lesser demon.

It would seem that Myra, as she had many times before, twisted the truth when she tricked Lavender to serve under her. “And on top of that you want me to kill that baby’s father?”

Myra scoffed, not seeing what the issue could possibly be. “He won’t die. Magic users can live without a soul, in fact it makes them all the more powerful. He will be thanking you by the time you’re done.”

Deep down Lavender knew she didn’t want to do what was being asked of her. She had no desire to have children, at least not at this point in her immortal life. “So I have this child and then what?” Lavender asked, the inverted pentacle on her throat was burning now. It felt like a fire hot brand was being pressed against her sensitive skin just from thinking about how much she didn’t want to do this.

And if hurt this much at the thought, then what would happen if she actually went through with disobedience? It was beyond sinful.

“You give the child to me.” Myra replied as if her minion was the dumbest demon that walked the Earth. “I will raise it to follow Asmodeus’ whim just as I was raised and just as I’ve commanded you to. They will join the legions of hell and we’ll be one step closer to our goal.”

The gears inside the succubus’ brain clicked into place. “My child is going to start the apocalypse?” It was a bit of a reach, however she knew how Myra operated. She knew what the endgame was and she knew what was needed to get there. A child. A very special kind of hybrid to be exact.

Myra smiled, cruel and wicked, “as it is written. The child will bring hell on mortal Earth.” She moved closer to the young demon and cupped her face in what could almost be seen as a loving manner. “You are the key, Shoshanna, that is why I have cultivated you into the best seductress on this side of Hell. Do this for me and I will set you free.”

Freedom. The thought rang suddenly, as clear as a church bell in Lavender’s mind. Freedom which she had been dreaming of for over twenty years was now within reach. Bringing on the apocalypse couldn’t possibly be that bad of a price. After all she was already guaranteed her run of the Earth and her fill in the souls of mortal men. What did she have to lose?

The burning disappeared suddenly and all thoughts of deserting the cause vanished with it. “Deal.”

Suddenly the door broke open, a lean and very naked man stumbled in, holding a shoulder that was drenched in thick dark blood. There were a few other scrapes and obvious bite marks across his arms and upper torso, but his shoulder was definitely the worst.

Lav glanced out of the window and saw the sun was rising. The newcomer collapsed onto the stone floor, his breath ragged and rough. Myra moved at a speed that Lav had never seen before, at his side instantly and scooping him into her arms. The purple haired demon watched with growing curiosity.

“Leave us,” Myra demanded then and Lav sighed. She stood and left after giving a small wave by flicking her wrist nonchalantly. Once she was gone Myra began to brush back the man’s dark hair.

He groaned as he rested his head against her, clearly exhausted from the battle with the moon. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened since sundown. He wasn’t even sure how he had gotten here. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was safe within his demon princess’ arms.

“The Jones boy,” Myra practically growled with seething hatred. “He will pay for this.” She could smell his scent all over her lover as well as the death and decay that her rabid wolf had brought. The blood was not all his and that she knew for sure. The wolf just breathed a heavy sigh in response, not knowing who Jones was or what Myra meant by what she said.

Myra chanted a spell in a demonic language that was older than the Earth itself. At once all of the wounds on his body began to close and heal. The magic slowly worked its way throughout his body so that there was nothing left but the blood that had come from his wounds and from his attacker. His mouth was full of it. Coppery and earthy, it was actually a comforting taste.

“Kurtz,” She said softly as he began to fall asleep, his body torn from the change that caused him to run rampant across Riverdale. “Let’s get you cleaned up, my love.” Her voice was light and almost human.

Hazel eyes peered in through the window, watching with an absurd amount of intrigue. In the two decades she had been enslaved to the blonde demon, she had never seen her act…tender. She had brief lapses where she wasn’t quite as horrid but she was never sweet. Lavender thought she was incapable of such things. Myra was so distracted that she couldn’t even feel her presence there right outside the ramshackle house.

That was perhaps a good thing, as Myra would have tortured her with rage had she noticed.

Myra managed to get the man she called Kurtz up and into the bathtub. She ran him a bath of hot water, adding a few herbs into the mix to help soothe his broken body. The change was so hard on him. The madness wracked his body, causing him to shake in the milky bath water.

She grabbed a washcloth and began to scrub away the blood as he relaxed against the tile, his head falling to the side as he fell in and out of sleep. “The white witch, did I get her?” He asked suddenly in a broken voice that had her withered heart wrenching.

“No, not this time.” Myra replied in a tone that showed no disappointment in him. She was too worried to care if the witch was dead or not. He had come close, she could feel that, but the black wolf got in the way.

They had finally crossed paths, light and dark, and Myra feared that she may be too late to stop them. There was one way the final prophecy could fail, only one, and of course those two had something to do with it. At least as far as she could tell. Decoding ancient texts was not an exact science, rather a fine art.

But there was still time, her slave was now on course to become with child. Soon no one would be able to stop her from raising the depths of hell.

“Soon, my wolf.” She said with a bite to her voice now. Anger bloomed as the water began to turn pink. She stared intently at a sprig of fresh lavender that floated by, “We will get her soon.”

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