Fear me, Love me

What Lurks Beneath

"Thank you, Thorn, thank you. I really mean it." Lauren looked up at him with a wide eyed, certain gaze. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. She didn't doubt for a minute that he could do it – her confidence was...daunting.

"How did you become a reaper?" Thorn asked softly, his deep voice was the gentle rumble of a storm far away. "Is it a hunter thing?" 

Lauren shook her head.

"There was a corpse-monster-thing in the prison where Ryder kept Lewis. The night I freed him it came to life and bit me." Lauren frowned, the memories were hazy. "I think I took its place... Somehow, I wound up in chains dangling from the ceiling." She shivered. "Afterwards - it seemed fine - but I don't know. It's like it was biding time in my head somehow." Thorn looked thoughtful. Lauren flinched suddenly. "Murias is coming. You better go."

As Thorn stalked through the shadows the Empty Edge, his mind wondered – drifting back to the night they'd taken over the Mors Pack.

***

Others couldn't see his cold children - but to Thorn their ethereal glow lit up the night. He'd mustered an army of them that evening. Children with shining faces that could bend shadows around them. The two smallest had stayed at his side - holding his hands and whispering to him – telling him what was happening. Keeping an eye on Ryder.

Thorn had been worried. Ryder usually fought with Mason at his right hand. They'd trained that way. The two warlocks synchronised their powers to deadly effect. But that night Ryder had insisted that Mason remain with Harriet.

A close snarl had made Thorn turn in time to see a wolf leap from the right. He'd been knocked back by the creature's weight but the bite aimed for his jugular had never come. The werewolf whimpered and then lay still – crushing Thorn's rib cage with its limp weight. In death, wolf transformed to man and Thorn was able to shove the body off him. He'd nodded his thanks to his anxious children.

A young lad named Emrah had cried out in pain - his torso caught in the jaws of a wolf. Twisting desperately, Emrah punched at the monsters head. The wolf spat him out and staggered on its paws - poisoned by Emrah's blood. The young man wasn't much of a conjuror and his ability to make venomous his saliva or blood hadn't been enough to save him – only to bring down his attacker. 

Thorn had rushed to Emrah's side. The stench of the poor lads erupted stomach had been foul.  

"Emrah!" Thorn called, cradling the young man's head. Emrah's eyes were shut and Thorn had felt the moment the young warlock stopped breathing. 

Thorn's cold children whispered in his ear... 

The wolves have surrendered. 

Together the pack had howled in sad lament to the half-moon. Ryder had done it – he'd crushed a pack of werewolves - but the price of Ryder's hasty timetable had been paid. Thorn's jaw set. Ryder was on a path to complete destruction.

Ryder's men had secured the base. They'd killed most of the wolves but Ryder had granted mercy to the omegas. Thorn could feel them, skulking in their hovels in the forts walls – surrounding them. Moving with quick, light steps Thorn had headed down a set of stone steps. A prison – his children had informed him – he wondered why Ryder was lingering down there.

The heavy door opened out onto a circular chamber. Thorn had squinted in the gloom. The walls were slick with slime and mould and the air smelt wet. Cells surrounded the room - looking in on this open chamber. Ryder had been knelt at its centre. It was a relief to see him uninjured. Frost glistened on the warlock's leather jacket and he looked, just then, like an ice prince from a fairy-tale - beautiful, dark and sparkling.