Feral
by Slinkyspychokit


Title: Feral
Author: Slinkypsychokit
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lorna McCray, newly commissioned Watcher given the task of opening a Council Motherhouse in the Louisiana bayou soon finds that there are things that even the daughter of a Slayer and Vampire, as well as the mate of a vampire, cannot prepare her for or save her from.
Warnings: Horror, action and drama.
Word Count: 3009

---

At long last, the workmen had completed their work for the day. Lorna sighed in relief as she poured herself a glass of sweetened iced tea and returned to her work. Despite the New Orleans heat and the scent of the swamps permeating the air, she would not trade this moment for anything. After all, it wasn’t everyday that a twenty-year old young woman, freshly graduated from the Watcher's Academy was handed the mission of establishing a Motherhouse.

It was true that ever since the old Watcher's Council had been blown to smithereens over twenty years ago, those with the inherent skill and talent to assist Slayers were being commissioned sooner. From what Lorna had been told of the old Council, Watchers usually had not been given active duty before the age of thirty.

Pulling the heavy auburn braid that reached the middle of her back into a loose knot atop her head, Lorna pushed away her musings and parked her denim-covered backside back in front of her computer. A Watcher’s diary didn’t write itself. Well, at least not without a little help of the spell-casting variety. Which she didn’t do. Nuh-uh. Never touched the stuff. Really.

Elsewhere in the stately old home, she could hear the sounds of the small house staff going about their duties. Mrs. Rothchilde’s cultured English tones brought a grin to Lorna’s lips as the older woman let the butler know, in no uncertain terms, exactly what she thought of his shameless advances.

Something cool brushed across her skin, the contact making her heart race even as it sent shivers gliding over her nearly bare shoulders. She closed her eyes, whimpered oh, so softly- softer than the feathery caress of skin against skin.

That was just one more reason she was glad that the old house’s renovations were nearly complete. With the special necro-tempered glass being used for the windows of the large antebellum home, Lorna would no longer be forced to endure the separation from her husband that came with each dawn. Despite how hard she had argued with her mate that they could block the windows of their bedroom to protect him from the sun -it was good enough for her parents- Devon would not be swayed. It was better for them all that he was not there while the workers went about their tasks.

***

Devon rested his hands upon the gentle flare of his wife’s slender hips, and buried his mouth and nose into the rose-scented crook of her neck. He always loved the way his girl responded to him; the little sighs and whimpers at his touch drove him mad. It took all he had not to drag her off to bed right this minute and keep her there until next week. Instead, he gave the pulsing vein in her throat and loud, smacking kiss and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder.

“What’s my girl got in mind, I wonder? A trip to the French Quarter? Decadent revelry in a most decadent city?” He swayed lightly, pulling her compliant frame along for the ride. “Perhaps a late supper,” he queried and just managed to refrain from acting on the quick picture of feasting on her tantalizing flesh that arose in his mind’s eye.

“Dancing ‘til four in the morning?”

Lorna hummed low in her throat at the images her husband’s words had conjured and at the feel of his mouth against her neck. Abruptly, she pulled away and plopped back down in her desk chair. “Too loud. Too busy. Too crowded. Besides, I have too much work to do if I want this place to be ready when the others arrive.” Hoping to distract her mate’s attention, she opened a file on her desktop.

“Here, take a look at this,” Lorna invited as she vacated the chair for him to sit down. Devon looked between the screen and his mate, then sat and promptly pulled her onto his lap.

With warm, tantalizing female settled across his thighs, Devon focused his gaze upon the screen. “Hello, what’ve we got here?” he murmured in surprised eagerness. The little woman had certainly been busy. The entire left side of the screen was filled with thumbnail icons that, when enlarged, opened onto a file regarding each arriving member of their household. She had even included an electronic map of the house to indicate where each member would be assigned sleeping quarters. He had no choice to but to smile at his girl’s attention to details. The woman was nothing if not thorough. “Brilliant job, sweetheart!”

Lorna preened at her husband’s praise and settled herself more comfortably in his lap. “I’m still working on it, but I think I’ve made great progress,” she told him as she grabbed his face between her hands and fused her mouth to his in a brief, passionate kiss before disentangling herself from his arms and pointing towards the door. “Go. Kill something. I have work.”

Devon pouted and grabbed for her, wanting nothing more than to cart her off to the nearest empty bedroom. Of course, it didn’t have to be a bedroom. Or even a bed, for that matter.

Lorna must have detected the path of his thoughts through the claim, because she moved until the desk was between. “Oh, no you don’t, vampire. We have way too much work to- oh, what the hell? Race you!” With a squeal, Lorna was off and running, deaf to her mate’s shouted accusations of her cheating.

*******

Lorna stretched like a lazy, contented kitten and rolled onto her side to peer at the vampire whom she had been in love with nearly all her life. Much as it sounded like an exaggeration, it was not. In fact, she could still recall the first moment she had laid eyes upon his tall, broad figure when her parents had granted him sanctuary within the compound. Devon McCray had been ousted by his clan for going against his nature and protecting a young, pregnant slayer from death at the hands- and fangs- of his own Sire. That his Sire was responsible for the young warrior woman’s condition only made it more a crime against his clan.

But Devon had made a promise to the female. He would see her delivered safely to England and ensure that she and the child would never have need to fear his clan again. It was a vow he kept and was rewarded with the trust and kinship of the Haven council.

Lorna smiled softly as she remembered nights when Devon would sit with her father and the two vampires would recall stories of their time before the creation of the Slayer army. She would wander downstairs on silent feet only to be caught by her father’s sensitive hearing. Papa would scoop her up and settle her upon his lap. She was always asleep within moments as his deep, soothing voice would lull her swiftly to sleep.

Quietly, Lorna slipped from the comfortable bed and belted her purple satin robe around her slender frame. Sunrise was still a few hours away and she was restless. The rest of their team would be arriving later today, and she wanted everything to be ready in time. This would make it all real; solidify her position as the youngest Watcher to ever be given the opportunity to establish their very own Council House.

“Good morning, Mrs. Rothschilde,” she greeted the housekeeper as she entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss,” the older woman replied with a warm smile as she looked up from the newspaper she had spread over one of sparkling, black marble countertops. “Care for some coffee? I’ve only just brewed a pot. Cook’s not awakened yet, but I could-”

“Just coffee,” Lorna interrupted. “I thought I might take a short walk in the gardens before returning to work.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Mrs. Rothschilde replied, despite her own apprehension at the possible dangers one could happen upon during a nighttime stroll alone. She handed the requested coffee to the young woman and retrieved Lorna’s preferred choice of flavored cream from the refrigerator. “Shall I fetch Forsythe to accompany you?”

Lorna grinned, “I’m good. I’ll only be a few minutes and I promise not to stray too far from the house.” As though to prove that she could, indeed, protect herself, she held up the rather large dagger she had concealed within the folds of her robe. Besides, she had been raised by two of the most overprotective parents she had ever heard of. Lorna had been handling weapons since she was big enough to hold a stake.

Mrs. Rothschilde gave her a strange look of concern before doing as she was told. Lorna smiled inwardly at her victory. She knew the housekeeper wanted to press, though her station as a servant prevented it. Arguing with one’s employer just wasn’t done.

********

Devon awoke suddenly, a cold knot of dread clenching his gut. He called out his mate’s name to no avail. The bed was empty, the mattress retaining only a small measure of heat indicating that she had been gone for some time. Again he called out to her, desperate to know her whereabouts. Something was terribly wrong and he didn’t know what.

Hastily, he threw himself out of bed and pulled on his pants with hands that trembled from a mixture of fear and urgency. The door burst open, and Devon swore impressively as Forsythe, his large, barrel-chested butler, swept into the room.

“The Mistress, sir...she was in the gardens.”

It took a moment for Devon’s mind to process what his eyes were seeing as Forsythe laid his precious burden upon the bed with great care. He stared in frozen horror at the blood covering Lorna’s chest and legs where her satin nightgown and robe had been torn away. Time seemed to come to a stand still for him as the large man shouldered his way past Devon to retrieve medical supplies and clean cloths from the en suite bathroom. He was back a moment later and quickly set about examining the wounds covering Lorna’s slight body.

“What did this?” Devon demanded with a voice quivering in fear and rage. “Did you see it?”

“T’was a wolf, Master,” Mrs. Rothschilde answered as she hurried through the door, arms loaded down with bandages. I saw it from the library. Mistress McCray was walking about the gardens and…it was just there! On top of her before she could even bring her weapon up!” The middle-aged housekeeper gestured frantically, tears streaking down her weathered cheeks. “I’ll phone for an ambulance.”

“No!” Devon snapped. Then clenched his jaw tightly. “You will no such thing, Agatha. Leave us. Return to your duties. I will see to my wife.”

Distraught, Agatha looked to Forsythe. The large manservant nodded. “You heard your master, woman. Return to your duties.”

Drawing herself up, Agatha nodded once and left the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

*****

They worked in silence, cleaning away the blood and applying disinfectant to the wounds. Deep claw marks slashed across Lorna’s chest and thighs. Devon took stock of the large bite wound in his mate’s right shoulder and knew without a doubt what had attacked her had not been an ordinary wolf.

Without being told, Forsythe bagged the torn, blood-soaked clothes. They would be taken to a nearby scientist under Council employ. Devon prayed to a God that had forsaken him decades ago that his mate had not been infected.

When they had done all within their capabilities, Devon dismissed Forsythe and pulled a chair beside the bed. The sun had begun its ascent into the sky and he could feel its pull through the heavy draperies. A maid came with a decanter of brandy and a sealed silver pot. Pig’s blood, though the girl likely didn’t know it. She left the tray on a nearby table and left without disturbing her master. No doubt the house servants were already about their duties and whispering about the Mistress’ accident.

Let them gossip as much as they liked, Devon thought. The idle chatter of the servants concerned him not. All that concerned him was lying before him, still as death and pale as a sheet. It terrified him that she had remained unconscious throughout their ministrations without even a moan when he had prodded the wounds in an effort to determine their depth. Her breath was a tad labored, and he could hear her heart beating a steady rhythm in her chest. She appeared for all the world to simply be asleep.

*****

Lorna still had not awoken by late afternoon when Sally, the maid who had brought the morning tray, returned with the news that the rest of their team had arrived. Devon blinked in confusion for a moment, then turned to the young maid and nodded sharply. “Thank you, Sally.”

Sally glanced nervously at her clasped hands. “If you like, sir, I could sit with the missus while you tend to your business?”

She was right, Devon knew. He had been sitting in the same place without moving since that morning. He didn’t want to leave his girl’s side, but he needed to go meet the rest of their team. It’s what Lorna would want.

****

Sela let out an appreciative whistle as she took in the elegant furnishings and tasteful decorations of the sitting room. “Suh-weet crib. Musta cost HQ a pretty penny.”

Slider nodded in agreement as he swept midnight blue gaze over the framed artwork hanging on the walls. “If I remember, that’s a Rembrandt.”

“Isn’t he the one who cut off his ear?”

Slider shook his head, his lips quirked with amusement. “That was Van Gogh.”

“I thought that was Rasputin.” Sela frowned in confusion.

“Actually, Rasputin was a demon. According to Council history, a bunch of humans got together and amply demonstrated their flair for overkill. They beat him, shot him, poisoned him, and hung him. Eventually, they just rolled him up in a rug and dropped him into a large body of water. Though, rumor has it he’s still kicking around the Costwolds planning his inevitable comeback massacre.”

Sela turned and a grin split her lovely face. “Uncle Devon!” The young slayer threw herself into her uncle’s arms.

Devon grunted with the force of his niece’s enthusiastic embrace. “Can’t…breathe…”

“You don’t breathe,” Slider reminded him with a devilish grin of his own. “Vampire?”

Sela let go of her uncle and took a step back to look him over. “Looks like getting hitched works for you. Where’s the wife?”

“Sleeping. She hasn’t been getting much rest over the past few weeks. What, with getting the place ready for you slackers,” he smiled at them, not eager for them to learn the extent of Lorna’s early morning accident. Slider lifted his face toward the ceiling, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. Devon knew the boy had most of the enhanced senses gifted to vampires. He was just hoping the youth would keep his mouth shut for the moment. There was no need to worry Sela over something she could do nothing about.

In an effort to divert the unwanted attention from inquiries regarding his mate, Devon looked at the two people before him. “Where are the others,” he asked, honestly curious as to why they were the only ones to show up when they were expecting a dozen team members to arrive that day.

Slider, having decided that it would be smarter to keep his questions to himself for the time being, shrugged. “Had some trouble a few towns over. Seemed the locals weren’t exactly in the welcoming mood. Oz thought it best to send us ahead.”

“Mac and Dianne won’t be here until next week,” Sela added as she kept a careful eye on her uncle. She had seen the slight shift in his body language at the mention of their team leader. She knew Devon well enough to know there was something he was not telling them.

Devon opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say would remain a mystery. It was in that moment that a shrill scream rent the air. In an instant, the trio were racing through the large house and pounding up the stairs towards the master bedroom where the vampire had left his unconscious, wounded mate in the care of a young scullery maid.

Sally’s urgent cries could be heard down the hall as Devon rounded the top of the stairs and hurried to the open door. He entered the room, Slider and Sela at his heels, in time to see Lorna shove Sally’s slighter frame away from her. The maid was flung across the hardware floor where she crashed into the dresser and landed, unconscious, in a heap.

For her part, Lorna was crouched atop the rumpled bedcovers, her normally sky-blue eyes flecked with streaks of gold and her teeth bared in a snarl. Devon had never seen her like this. She was feral; the human in her suppressed while the part of her that came from her vampire lineage seemed completely in control.

Instinctively, his own demon slid to the fore, pushing back his own humanity. Whatever happened next was up to the creature before him. He didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t if it were necessary, though.

Something must have caught Lorna’s attention. One moment she was crouched upon the bed. The next, a roar filled the air and she leapt.

Muttering a curse beneath his breath, Devon prepared to take down the creature that was his wife, his heart and his reason for existing.


Story continues in Nowhere Left to Run
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