Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anita Katerine Blake was having a very, very bad month. She was on a horrific case that was giving her nightmares, but, despite that, she was almost glad to get out of Saint Louis.

Her domestic situation was only getting more complicated, even though she had recently cut down on the number of her lovers. It hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped, because now, those who were left were picking and pulling and trying to get closer to her or wrangle more time or commitment from her. It had only gotten worse now that the little commitment ceremony was getting closer. She was legally marrying Jean-Claude, and she was also marrying Micah and Nathaniel too. But the tiger communities were demanding that she marry a tiger as well, and of course, that meant that Cynric was up in her face about it being him.

She was leaning more towards it being Mephistopheles. She knew that Nathaniel would prefer it to be him too, as the golden tiger was one of the only other bisexual men and he had no complaints about sleeping with her or Nathaniel, even if he wasn’t quite into what Nathaniel was in the bedroom. But Micah, she knew, had reservations about Mephistopheles, or Dev as he preferred to be called, shortened from both his middle name, Devlin, and from his nickname Devil; a name to match his twin sister, who was, honest to god, named Good Angel. Micah’s reservations came from the fact that he wasn’t all that comfortable with guy-on-guy bedroom activities. He loved Nathaniel and he could hug him, hold him, kiss him, but he hadn’t worked up to sex yet. Nathaniel was very patient, but while he waited for Micah, he got what he needed from others, mostly Dev.

Micah was worried that if they added Dev to their commitment ceremony, then Nathaniel would love Dev more than him, so Dev was on the fence for them, which only gave Cynric more room to try and wriggle his way in, but Jean-Claude did not see Cynric as a lover. Cynric was firmly in the little boy box for the Master of the City, who was also Cynric’s legal guardian. Anita could appreciate Cynric, who preferred to be called ‘Sin’ now that he had grown up, but she couldn’t really help but still see him as the little sixteen-year-old virgin from Las Vegas, even now that he was nineteen, almost twenty. She did not really want a relationship with him.

It really said something about the entire situation that she would rather be here, chasing bad guys and dead teenage boys, than at home with her lovers. She missed Jean-Claude, Micah, and Nathaniel. Hell, she even missed Nicky, but the whole commitment ceremony was ruining the dynamics of their poly group, because the tigers were petrified that if she didn’t marry a tiger, then the Mother of All Darkness would come back to end the world or something. Her thoughts on the matter were that she had killed that bitch once, so she could do it again. The tigers didn’t see it that way and they were insisting that she marry a tiger, which had stalled her plans to marry her sweeties.

The problem was that she had very few tigers to choose from. Cynric was her blue tiger to call and she and Jean-Claude had issues with him. Dev was her gold tiger to call, but Micah had an issue with him. She had cut Domino from her list of lovers, and she had done the same with Jade and Ethan. She hadn’t seen Crispin in over a year and he was off of her lover’s list…she really needed to find a tiger who fit in with all of them and, at the moment, the only two contenders, Cynric and Dev, just weren’t going to be it because it wasn’t a harmonious decision between all of them who were in the primary relationship, which was her, Jean-Claude, Micah, and Nathaniel. If they couldn’t find a tiger to add, then their commitment ceremony was going to blow up in their faces. Or worse, rip down their entire polycule and the Saint Louis community.

Her phone rang and she recognised Micah’s ringtone. She smiled automatically and answered immediately.

“Anita.” He said. Just that one word let her know that it was business he was calling for. As he was the leader of the Coalition for Better Understanding Between Human and Lycanthrope Communities, known affectionately as the Furry Coalition, he was often called out of town for peace talks or, more likely, to be a referee between two warring factions. He had to take bodyguards with him and he had to go armed.

“What is it?” She asked, her own voice going from the ‘happy that you called’ tone to her own business tone.

“There’s been another boy set loose. He was shot dead by police in Florissant. He killed eight people, including a police officer. The Coalition is trying to explain why these boys are going berserk, but if this carries on, then there is nothing we’ll be able to do to limit the damage this will cause between humans and lycanthropes. We’ll all be under vermin laws soon, like some of the western states.”

Anita’s heart thudded in her chest. Those laws allowed anyone to shoot whoever they pleased and, as long as a blood test proved that they were wereanimals, it wouldn’t be classed as murder. That meant that every lycanthrope she knew and loved, including Micah, Nathaniel, and even herself, could be legally shot and killed with no repercussions from the law.

“I’m trying, but they’re always one step ahead of me. I’m closing in though.”

“I know you are.”

“You’re saying that it might already be too late.”

“There are whispers coming to me at the Coalition. People being put under more scrutiny, people trying to figure out who might be a lycanthrope. Richard is also very worried. He’s come under suspicion.”

That really did make her heart miss a beat. There had been a time when she had loved Richard, when she had been engaged to him. Now she was engaged to Jean-Claude and her relationship with Richard was getting back onto a more normal footing. That he was even being considered as a lycanthrope, as he was the very last person anyone would ever suspect of being any sort of wereanimal, was a massive worry. He was a high school teacher…if it was ever found out that he was a werewolf then he would lose the job that he adored.

“Why does anyone suspect him?”

“Some think that he’s just being paranoid…”

“But the situation is just that bad?”

“That’s what I think, yes. I think everyone is being watched more closely, even if they are unlikely suspects.”

“I’ll get them, Micah.” She said, her voice firm and hard.

“I believe you, love. I just wanted you to know about the boy in Florissant.”

“I’ll pin it and check for a pattern. If there are any whispers, let me know, Micah.”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you more.” She said, a smile already on her face.

“I love you most.” Micah answered.

“I love you mostest. Give my love to Nathaniel too.”

“He’s curled up in front of the fire, sleeping.”

That made her smile wider. That was just like their Nathaniel. She hung up and sighed. Another boy, this one in Florissant. She pinned it on the map she had. That made eight boys who had been turned into wereanimals and then set loose on the innocent public. All eight of them were dead, so she had no leads on who could be doing this or why they’d be doing it. She had to hunt these people down, and she had to stop what they were doing, before it was too late, though if Micah was right, then it was already too late. She hoped not.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

It was a series of strange occurrences that had led Harry to America. Well…maybe not strange as such, but certainly odd by normal standards. Then, everything in his life had been odd, he reflected, almost with a smile.

He had started out liking small spaces because his cupboard had been small, yet, it had also been safe to him…something that was just his. Not to mention the spiders that had been in the cupboard under the stairs, he’d liked the spiders, he had talked to them, they had kept him company in his lonely childhood escapism. Those normal little house spiders had at least, he couldn’t say the same for Aragog and his brood of Acromantula nestled deep in the forbidden forest.

But now, now that he was older, he hated the small spaces. He’d grown used to having space, to his dorm at Hogwarts. He’d gotten used to having his own room at number four Privet Drive, even if he was locked in, he had the room to pace around if he chose to. So, of course, living in a tent with Ron and Hermione had affected him. He’d hated it, but then, he had also been under a considerable amount of pressure to find the remaining Horcruxes and to finish off Voldemort for good, while every day brought more news of those missing or dead.  

The war had taken everything out of him. It had stripped him bare and had taken absolutely everything from him. He had no friends that he kept in contact with, because he refused to drag Ron and Hermione down after they’d found their much-deserved happiness with one another. He had no home, no life, no future. It seemed that everything had been taken over by the war and now that the war was finally over, he had no purpose. He was lost, set to drifting through everything that came his way.

He had moved, quickly, to remove himself from the places and the people that reminded him of the war. That had helped. Coming to America had helped him more. Nothing here reminded him of magical Britain; there were no ancient, cobblestoned streets filled with shops selling wands or broomsticks. There were no owls flying from building to building to remind him of Hedwig. No people dressed in robes, or whatever cobbled together outfit they thought muggles wore.

No, there was none of that here, but there were bad people to remind him of Voldemort, to remind him of the Death Eaters. That was the situation he found himself in now. He’d been on American soil for a scant two months before he was targeted by movie-esque bad guys. He must have had an invisible target on him, or something that just drew these sorts of people to him. He was so tired, so fed up with it.

“She’ll find us!” The one was saying nervously.

“We got us another boy, she won’t risk it.” The other, more stable guy answered, looking through the ratty, tattered curtain that covered the dive motel window.

“Is Craig even coming? Maybe she already has him.” The nervous guy asked, his hand trembling as it held a gun in his lap and his one knee bouncing vigorously as he tapped his foot against the floor.

“You said that with the last three boys and it wasn’t true then either. He’s on his way, Brock, just calm down.”

“We have Anita Blake on our asses, Sid!” The nervous one, Brock, cried out from the bed he was sitting on.

“I told Craig it was a bad idea to come this close to Saint Louis, it’s bad enough he wanted to do this here in Missouri, but coming this close, it’s like poking a beehive with a stick.” The other one, Sid, said while twitching the curtains again to peer out into the gloomy car park beyond. “We should have stuck to taking little boys from the outermost cities!”

“He…he wanted a challenge.” Brock said, and then he let out a nervous giggle.

“Well, he’s certainly got a challenge.” Sid spat angrily. “Anita fucking Blake herself, that zombie bitch.” 

“What…what are we going to do with him?” Brock asked, staring at Harry through twitchy eyes.

“He’s behaving, leave him to Craig.”

“What if she comes first?” Brock demanded, his voice getting louder, his tone high and shrill.

“Keep your voice down and calm down. She won’t want another boy harmed.”

“I am nineteen.” Harry said quietly, calmly.

“Shut up.” Brock snapped immediately, standing and hitting him over the jaw with the side of the gun he was holding in his trembling hands.

Harry closed his eyes and he absorbed the pain. He breathed out deeply through his nose and kept his mouth shut, at least until it would serve him properly.

It wasn’t the first time that these people had hit him and the bruises from being hit, even with a gun, were the least of his injuries. He was nursing a broken leg. Likely so he couldn’t fight them and couldn’t run away by himself. It was hurting and making him feel sick, as he hadn’t been given any painkillers. He was trying not to move it, but sitting on a chair was agony, being tied to said chair was making his head throb and his vision was already blurry, despite the fact that he’d gotten rid of his glasses during the war as they’d become a liability and he now had ‘perfect’ vision.

“Craig’s here.” The one at the window said, sounding much happier as he waited for several moments, still looking covertly out of the window, his eyes sweeping the entire car park outside. Probably to make sure this new man, Craig, wasn’t being followed.

There was a hard, heavy knock at the cheap, flimsy door and Sid, as the more stable man, went to open it.

“You got me a boy?” A man’s voice grunted, obviously Craig.

“We have a new one.” Sid answered, almost meekly, desperately wanting to please this Craig. That was a bad sign. It reminded Harry of the Death Eaters simpering to Voldemort.

“Good.” Came the short, grunted reply.

Harry got a good look at the new bad guy, Craig, and as far as first impressions went, it wasn’t a good one. He looked like the typical ‘tough guy’ with a shaved head, tattoos, and a well-worn leather jacket. It was the mean, cruel look in his eyes that set him apart from a mislabelled stereotype. Those dark brown eyes looked at him with such malice that it momentarily held Harry frozen in place.

“She won’t find us in time.” Craig said, still staring at Harry with that malevolent gaze. “She’s been led on a merry chase and thinks we’re in Chesterfield with the boy.”

“We’ll have time to carry on the plan, then?” Sid asked, coming away from the window at last.

“Yes, tomorrow night. There will be more bodies on the ground, another nail in the coffin for the freedom of beasts.”

Harry couldn’t control the missed beat of his heart at that, nor the extra deep breath that he sucked in.

“I see you needed to rough the boy up.” Craig said, his eyes lingering and shining in perverse interest at each of Harry’s injuries.

“He was a fighter. It took both of us this time to get him. We broke his leg to keep him from running, as normal, but all the other injuries are superficial because he gave us lip.” Sid said.

“I like the feisty boys. They cause more carnage.” Craig said, his eyes lighting up further.

“We got him because he was cute looking, we didn’t find out he was feisty and lippy until after.” Brock added.

“He is one of the better-looking boys that you’ve got for me. You did well.”

“What did you mean when you said about putting a nail in the coffin for the freedom of beasts?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowed.

“See?! He’s fucking lippy!” Brock raged, bouncing back up and going to hit him again.

“No.” Craig said simply, and Brock stopped mid-move and backed off jerkily.

Harry was considered closely, scrutinised by those dark brown eyes.

“You picked one with a head on his shoulders this time.” Craig said. “Be careful what you say, just in case he survives. As unlikely as that is, given that all eight of the previous boys are dead.”

Craig moved away from Harry, not giving him a second glance, to one of the beds and he swung the backpack he was carrying onto it. It clinked mutedly, like it was full of glass. Craig opened the bag and seemed to be taking an inventory of the several dozen small boxes inside it.

Harry was left alone, ignored, gagged, and he wondered much later if he was ever going to be moved from the chair. His leg was throbbing, he felt sick because of it, but the room only had two beds. The three bad guys were now sleeping in shifts; one man was always at the window, looking out for this supposed Anita Blake. The other two were cat napping on the beds.

Harry was left in the chair, hurting and cursing his luck. Though things could always get worse, and they did the following morning, when Craig took out several of the small boxes and opened them to reveal tiny little glass bottles. He handed these to the stable guy, Sid, who already had a needle in his hand. Harry was injected several times with fuck knows what, he could only hope that it wasn’t poison that was contained in those little bottles. It wasn’t burning, so he hoped not.

“That was the last of the weretiger vaccine.” Sid told Craig calmly.

“A shame, the tigers are the biggest and cause more damage.” Craig said consideringly. “We injected him with all cat strains, right?”

The calmer man nodded, folding the flap back over the backpack filled with the  little boxes of bottles. He dumped the several bottles that he’d emptied into Harry’s body into the motel bin. The single needle he’d used followed, before the bag was tied and held out.

“Brock, take a drive and get rid of all this. As far away as you can. Bring some food back with you.” Craig ordered.

Brock took the bin bag with a nervous, shaky hand to toss it to remove the evidence. Harry was almost glad that Brock had been sent away. His nervous energy bled into the entire room and Harry hadn’t been able to relax at all when that guy had been awake and jittering about the place.

“We lay low as normal?” Sid asked.

Craig nodded. “Yes, I’ll send Brock out again later to get food from that place down the road, but we need to avoid cameras and avoid attention. Get the gag back in his mouth too, just in case he thinks of calling out now that people are about. He’s had enough water.”

Harry’d had hardly any water, but he didn’t point that out, nor did he struggle as the crude gag, a piece of rolled-up fabric, was stuffed back in his mouth and tied behind his head. His eyes did tear up when it caught and ripped out some hair, but it was his leg that was giving him the most trouble. If it wasn’t seen to, and quick, then he could get an infection or even die from it. He needed a plan to get himself free, but until then, calm compliance would serve him well.

“He’s too quiet. He hasn’t even tried begging.” Sid said.

Craig looked over and considered Harry’s rather calm composure.

“He is odd.” Craig admitted. “Where did you find him?”

“He was just out walking. No one was around, so me and Brock snatched him quickly, stuffed him in the trunk of the car and brought him straight here.”

“Did he cry when you broke his leg?”

“No. He did cry out when it snapped, but there were no tears. He just started breathing heavily through gritted teeth.”

“We’ll have to do a real number on him later; he has a higher pain threshold than the others we’ve picked up.”

Sid grinned happily at that thought. “I can do that.” He said, sounding so pleased that Harry really did feel like he was going to be sick. People like this didn’t deserve to live.

He tried to call his magic to him again, to free his hands at least, but what that would even do when he couldn’t walk, or even stand up, he had no idea, but he felt the need to try anyway. It didn’t matter in the end, as the magic he’d been ignoring for four months now didn’t flare up for him. He should have known better. He had abandoned his magic after the war, in his depression and anger. He had even moved to America, to pretend to be a muggle, of course he couldn’t just call upon his magic when he needed it most, especially without a wand to hand, when he’d been pretending that he didn’t have any magic for months now, shoving it down and suppressing it. Idiot that he was, he really should have known better.

The day passed mostly as it had the day before, with Harry gagged and tied to the chair, his leg throbbing and burning now too. It was definitely infected if he was any judge of injuries, and he’d had more than a few in his life to compare to one another. The telling sign was that the area around the break was going red; it looked like it would be hot to the touch.

“Is it time?” Brock asked, twitching and bouncing nervously, letting out that annoying sound he made occasionally that was part giggle and part whine. It was almost like he had a tick in his neck. It made Harry wonder if he really was of a nervous disposition to such a degree or if he had a mild form of Tourette syndrome.

“I hear people.” Sid said, but it was Craig who peered out of the window.

“It’s getting busier.” He said.

“Now?” Brock asked.

“Soon.”

“Can we start now?”

“Not yet, Brock.” Craig said firmly.

Harry tried to force his steel control over himself. He tried to prepare himself as much as he could for what he knew was coming. He’d been beaten before, the Dursleys had been doing that for years, since he was a child even, it was nothing new, he coached himself. He could handle it. The broken leg added another level to everything, but he’d suffered through worse; he’d been tortured by Voldemort personally, and if you had ever experienced the Cruciatus curse from him personally, then everyone else’s just paled in comparison. He could move above this pain. He could deal with it. Or, at least, that is what he told himself.

“It’s gone ten.” Sid told the others, breaking the silence of the room, almost being drowned out by the laughing, shouting people that seemed to be all around the motel building.

Craig nodded, then he turned to Harry and those evil eyes gleamed as he took four steps forward and he kicked Harry’s broken leg. Hard.

The pain was unimaginable and he screamed into the fabric stuffed in his mouth. He had to close his eyes, even as bile climbed up his throat, but it had nowhere to go and he was forced to swallow heavily, which made his eyes water more and the sour taste lingered on his tongue.

“There, now rough him up. He needs to be in so much pain that he can’t think straight and the animal inside him goes berserk.”

Harry’s head snapped up at that, as his mind filtered through what had been said. That was how they were going to ruin the freedom for wereanimals…they were forcing the change onto youngsters, teenagers, and hurting them to drive their brand new animal crazy with pain and fear. In that state, they would attack anyone and everyone that they came across.

It was a Saturday night. The city was going to be teeming with people out for a good night. Harry swallowed as he accepted the body blows and more broken bones to drive him out of his mind with pain, in preparation for that night. He did vomit when his arm was snapped at the elbow over Brock’s knee, but the gag prevented much from getting out.

Of course, these men didn’t know who he was. They thought he was some cute-looking teenage boy who’d never suffered anything in his life, but no, Harry had been through a war. He’d been running from the horrors he’d seen and faced during that hellish final battle and he could not so easily be broken, especially not by pain. He had felt the Cruciatus curse numerous times, flaying his very nerve endings, snapping ligaments and tendons, driving him out of his mind with pain, yet he had survived it. He could take this, and now that he knew their plan, he could combat it, even if he forced his will over his brand-new animal side and hid away from all people until he died.

“It’s time.” Craig said, those eyes gleaming at the broken, bloodied sight of Harry, still tied to that fucking chair.

Brock inched forward and grabbed the long end of the rope. It was very, very long and a dazed, hyperventilating Harry only realised why when the door shut, and the rope was pulled hard as his bonds fell away.

He fell to the floor without the rope to hold him to the chair. It had him falling onto his infected, broken leg and all the new breaks as he fell on his newly broken, useless arm, and the pain of it had him screaming, screaming as if he were being burnt alive, and the pain of it forced up a very sleepy head. A leopard yawned and stood up. Harry could see it in his mind, but it reminded him of when he’d been hit by the second killing curse and he’d had that chat with Dumbledore in his head. He could see it, it felt real, but it was inside his mind. It wasn’t anything tangible that he could reach out and touch. In fact, he was in so much pain that he could barely move, but he could see the leopard standing up, he could feel him stretching, he could hear him snuffling as he shook off the remnants of sleep, but it was all in his mind.

The leopard started jogging, running to…where, Harry didn’t know, as his animal was inside him, it had nowhere to run to! But it was like when he had held a conversation with Dumbledore, and he remembered what the deceased Headmaster had said to him then too…‘Of course it’s in your head, Harry, but why does that mean that it isn’t real?’

The leopard slammed into the outward barrier of his body and the change was immediate. All the broken bones healed, the cuts and gashes healed, though he was still covered in blood, but even most of that washed off with the scalding rush of clear gunk that accompanied the change.

The leopard padded on new limbs, getting used to walking on four legs, but they were as wobbly as a newborn fawn. The human side of him tried to force a change back, but they were in danger, they had been attacked, they had been hurt. His leopard wanted out of this room; he wanted to rip into flesh and bone, he wanted to eliminate the threat, to kill them all so that they would be left in peace, so that they would be safe. The human side placated them and got them to curl up and wash instead of going on a rampage and the newly shifted leopard did just that, climbing onto one of the soft beds, curling up and licking himself languidly, trying to erase all of the hurt and pain with soothing passes of his rough tongue until he, eventually, soothed himself to sleep in that ruined room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Anita Blake, federal marshal, vampire hunter, necromancer, and sweetie of the master vampire of Saint Louis, was on the trail of three bad guys who had decided to pick at the edges of her territory to try and test her, to rile her up, and she was not having it.

They were infecting and turning young boys and setting the newly turned wereanimals on members of the public…it wasn’t even the boys’ fault, the first few changes were always the hardest, that’s why they were always with members of their animal group when they tried to shift for the first several times, until they’d gained control of themselves.

The furry coalition of Saint Louis offered newly turned wereanimals a buddy, who would stay with them and help them through the first few weeks of being a wereanimal, but these boys were being set loose on innocent members of the public and, unable to control themselves, unable to suppress the animal mentality or instincts, they were maiming and killing people on the streets. Half a dozen of them had been shot dead by police, one of them had been so young that he hadn’t survived the turning and had been found dead in a motel room half turned into a werewolf; he had been just fourteen. One of the boys had actually been subdued and arrested, but he had killed himself in police custody over what he had done while in animal form before anyone had been able to question him. He’d only been seventeen.

Anita swallowed and her fists clenched as she hunted this gang down. She needed to find their newest target before he went on a rampage. They had made a massive mistake coming directly into her city this time, instead of picking at the edges as they had before, but actually coming into her territory, where she lived, and starting up that shit in Saint Louis.

She had realised quickly that she had been led on a run around, that the bad guys weren’t in Chesterfield at all, and she doubled back to hunt these men down, and she was in luck. She found them in a greasy, cheap motel with a new boy, a slender redhead who was bleeding and in pain. So that was how they forced the boys to shift and sent them on a rampage. She’d had her suspicions, but it was good to confirm that they were using unbearable pain as an incentive; it took the blame even further from the boys they were using as destructive weapons. Not that that would count for much in the public perception of things. All they would care about was the attack and how many people had been killed by the ‘vicious animals’ and what the government intended to do about it.

What she couldn’t figure out, though, was why…why were these men doing this? For what purpose was it all geared towards?

She staked out their little, shitty motel room, and she knew immediately when it was time to act, when the same face kept appearing in the window. The others were assumedly resting, and they were taking it in turns to keep watch.

She snuck down, quickly, quietly, using the cars in front of the rooms as cover to creep closer, keeping away from the sparse streetlights that dotted the car park. She had kicked the door to the motel room down, gun drawn, before the jumpy, jittering bad guy at the window realised that she was there. She shot him straight in the head. She only needed one of these guys alive.

The young boy, perhaps only just in his twenties, was crying hard behind a crude gag, actually sobbing hard and messily, his nose blowing snot bubbles and Anita heard him heave as he shifted what looked like a badly broken leg. He squirmed, flinching at the horror of the now dead bad guy and the gore splattered wall, but he was unable to get away as he was tied tightly to the chair, with that badly broken leg that kept making him heave and vomit behind the gag.

Anita took aim at a skinhead with tattoos and cruel eyes, who had immediately sprung from the one bed and she shot him, before turning to the last remaining man, who looked about ready to shit himself. He hadn’t reacted as quickly as the skinhead, and he was merely sitting up in the bed, staring at her in horror and fear.

“Why were you here, in this city?” She demanded.

“I…I…it wasn’t my choice. Craig, he decided.”

“He was your leader?” Anita asked.

The man nodded. “We…we just picked the boys.”

“Randomly, or did you stake them out?”

“He liked cute boys.” The man quivered. “The smaller the better, so they would be easily controlled.”

“Did you break their legs?” She hissed.

“It…we had to do it! To stop them from running away. We couldn’t risk any of them getting loose.” The man cried. “I never even wanted to come here, but Craig wanted a challenge. He said that if things went south in Saint Louis, then the plan would still work.”

“What was the plan?”

The bad guy went silent and Anita grew angry.

“How many boys in all?”

“Ten.” He sniffled, finding his tongue.

Anita swallowed. One was missing. She had just known that there was too much time between the one boy and the next; it had been the same with the fourteen-year-old who had died in the motel room and had been found by the horrified cleaning staff.

“Where did you leave the last boy?” She demanded sharply. “The one after Florissant.”

The man looked up. “We…we set him loose in Sunset Hills, near Fenton.” The man squeaked. “He was in a Sunset Lodge opposite a sushi place!”

Anita knew the area. It was on a main road, with restaurants and shopping places all over, very busy, very populated, but there had been no reports of a disturbance. There was a police station just down the road. Jesus, she really hoped he wasn’t another young boy who hadn’t survived the turning. She remembered vividly the look of utter agony that had twisted the other boy’s face as he had died trying to turn into a werewolf. He’d been just fourteen years old, too young for the change on his own.

Anita called in her location, asked for paramedics for the boy, who still smelt human, and then she turned back to the scumbag.

“How were you changing these boys? None of you are wereanimals.”

“I…I don’t know.” The man lied, his eyes giving him away as they darted to a backpack at the end of the bed.

Anita kept her gun trained on him, but she kicked open the bag. Inside were little boxes and sterile needles. She knelt, her gun steady, ready to shoot him if he so much as twitched, and she picked up one little box and worked the top open with her thumb. It contained a little glass bottle with a label. All Anita needed to know was on that little label. It was wereanimal vaccine, hospital grade, used for treating those who had already been bitten to help prevent them from turning. If used neat on a human who hadn’t been bitten, it would turn them immediately into whatever animal vaccine they were injected with. She was pissed.

“Where did you get this?” She demanded angrily. “These are heavily controlled and regulated substances; you can’t just buy them off the internet!”

“I don’t know! I swear, I don’t know. Craig got it all! He said he knew a guy who could get it and he did!”

Anita was thankful when backup arrived, because she was going to lose it and shoot this fucker in the face if she had had to stay with him for any longer.

“Dolph, have there been any call-ins for the Sunset Hills area?” She asked, striding over to him.

“No, what did he tell you?”

“He told me there were ten boys in all.”

“This one only makes nine.” Zerbrowski pointed out.

Anita nodded. “I asked where the last boy was. He said he was in Sunset Hills, near Fenton. He either hasn’t changed yet, or he’s died, but either way, he hasn’t gone on a killing rampage and I want to keep it that way. I’m going to call Micah and have him come with me…no arguments, Dolph.” She insisted as the man opened his mouth to argue. “This boy has been injected with wereanimal vaccine. He could be anything, but he’s assuredly something. That vaccine is potent shit. If injected into an uninfected human, it will turn them, that’s why it’s highly regulated. If this kid attacks Micah, he can handle it. If he attacked a human cop, they’d have to go through the decision of taking the vaccine or not and waiting to see if they go furry with the full moon. So let me handle this one, I’ll call it in to you as soon as I know.”

“You’d better.” Dolph grumbled unhappily.

“Call the Sunset Lodge for me, tell them not to go into the first room.”

Dolph nodded, already getting out his cell. Anita nodded her head and she hurried out to where she’d parked her car down the street, driving to the Sunset Lodge in Sunset Hills, calling Micah on the way and asking that he join her, just in case.

‘Do we know what he is?’ Micah asked her.

“We have no clue, and no way of knowing what he is until we reach him.”

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He assured her. ‘Stay safe.’

She’d opened her metaphysical links to Jean-Claude and Richard, to inform them of what was going on and why. She got the usual be careful, stay safe messages and then she shut them both out again.

She arrived first, but Micah was only a few minutes behind her and, by the time she had checked all of her weapons and her ammo, he was beside her.

“I’ve got the coalition on standby, just in case.” He told her, leaning forward for a quick, chaste kiss. “I’ve called Nathaniel too and let him know what’s happening. I told him that we both loved him.”

Anita smiled at the mention of their third. “Did he say his words?” She asked.

Micah smiled and nodded. “He said that he loved us the mostest.”

Anita snorted softly and then regained control of herself, turning to the motel.

“Which room?” Micah asked.

“The first one, closest to the street.” Anita replied. “It could be he’s just unconscious. I was right about one thing; they were hurting the boys to force the change and make them berserk. They were attacking out of pain and fear. This one…I don’t know why he hasn’t done the same, if he’s unconscious, dead, or just couldn’t get out of the room, but I don’t know what we’re facing.”

“I smell leopard.” Micah told her softly as they approached the first room.

Anita inhaled deeply, and then she smelt it too. Underneath everything else, the everyday scents, there was a furry, musty smell of leopard…and the scent of blood and vomit.

“He’s been hurt badly.” Micah said.

“The change would have healed all the damage, but the pain would linger, especially after a first shift. So the boys could prowl around and hunt, while still feeling that pain and the fear.”

They reached the door and they listened. They could hear nothing, no snarling, no growling, no animal noises. God, she hoped that this boy wasn’t dead.

Anita signalled to Micah and put her shoulder to the door. She slammed it open and scanned the room. She was shocked when a black leopard yowled in fright and leapt up from the bed…he had been curled up, sleeping in the bed like a docile kitten.

Micah took over for her and spread out his hands, indicating that he was unarmed and no threat.

“We’re here to help you.” Micah said, then he rumbled soothingly.

The leopard reacted to the rumble with one of his own and he tried to step off the bed…he tumbled and went arse over head as he was so unused to his own overlarge paws and walking around on four legs. He landed in a heap on the floor.

Micah went to him, not touching him, not looming over him, but he held out an arm and let the leopard scent him, before brushing his hands through fur and soothing the new leopard who would be joining their pard. He was so tiny, even in leopard form and Anita wanted to kill those bad guys all over again for what they’d done to these young boys. She spotted the blood on the carpet around another chair that was surrounded by rope and another vomit-stained gag, the torn remains of shorts and a bloodstained tee-shirt showing how violent the turn had been. There was even blood on the wall and the framed picture, as if the boy had been beaten so viciously that the blood had splattered that far. It was a lot of blood, too.

“You’re safe now. We’re going to take you to a place where you’ll be looked after and you won’t accidentally hurt anyone. You’ve done really well in controlling your leopard so far, we’re very proud of you, but I need you to come with us. Just stay calm, no one is going to hurt you further.” Micah said softly.

Micah got the leopard following him, an arm holding him around the neck, just in case he decided he did want to attack someone, as unlikely as that was now, seeing as this boy seemed to be very placid and controlled, especially for a new wereanimal.

“To the Circus?” Micah asked her.

“Yes, it’ll be the safest place to keep him until the change takes him over again.”

The leopard stopped suddenly, whined and scratched against the floor, agitated about something.

“It’s not an actual circus.” Micah told him, while Anita had been stumped as to what was wrong with the boy. “It’s just the name of the warehouse where we stay to be safe. The Circus of the Damned, or just the Circus for short. We are a rather odd bunch.”

The leopard calmed down and started walking again, and when Micah opened the back of his own car, he hopped in happily enough and settled down on the back seats. Micah closed the door carefully and Anita felt like she could breathe again.

“I’ll see you there.” Micah said. “I’ll call Nathaniel and let him know that we’re both okay, he’ll only worry otherwise. I’ll leave Jean-Claude to you. Drive safe.”

“You too.” She said, getting into her own jeep to call Dolph to let him know she had a new leopard to settle and that he hadn’t hurt anyone and hadn’t even left the motel room, which would need to be cleaned and scoured for evidence. After she’d done that, she contacted Richard and Jean-Claude again and updated them on what was happening.

‘I will have a room made up for him, ma petite.’

“No.” Anita said back aloud, though she didn’t need to speak the words for Jean-Claude to hear them. “He’s a leopard; it makes more sense if he comes home with me and Micah. I have a spare bedroom left. This way, we can keep a closer eye on him.”

‘You feel responsible for him.’ Richard stated.

“Yes. He was in my state, in my jurisdiction. I should have found him sooner. I should have saved him from this. Now, I’m going to help assimilate him into the pard with help from Micah and Nathaniel.”

‘Those boys who died or were killed were not your fault, Anita. This boy was the first in this actual city; it was out of your control before then.’ Richard tried to soothe her.

“He wasn’t in the city, he was in Sunset Hills. There were ten boys, not nine. We missed one because he wasn’t going berserk. He was actually asleep in the bed when Micah and I found him. I’m glad that the cleaning staff didn’t disturb him. But, there was another boy today, he was the one in the city. I found him before he was turned.”

‘See, ma petite, you have saved one boy, where you could have lost both. The other boy is unharmed and innocent still, we will help you to care for him and make him a part of our city.’

Anita sighed. “Micah should be arriving with him soon. He doesn’t have clothes. He burst out of them when he shifted. From the remnants of the clothes I found in the room, he’s closer to Jason’s size.”

‘I will see to it, ma petite.’

Anita cut off the link and brooded on why she felt responsible for this boy. It was difficult to pin down, but it was a combination of him being abducted and attacked in her state, because it had been done by bad guys that she had been chasing, and because they had led her off in the wrong direction and she had fallen for it, and in the meantime this boy had been hurt, abused, and turned into a wereleopard, and perhaps if she hadn’t fallen for the trick, she might have been able to save him in time, as she had done for the other boy tonight.

She arrived at the Circus in time to help Micah carry the sleeping leopard into the warehouse. He was draped over Micah’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and was very happy to sleep through the bumpy ride.

“He fell asleep on the way here. He’s still out of sorts, so I didn’t want to wake him.” Micah explained as she got the door for him.

She strode after Micah in her work boots, on the uneven, too-tall steps leading underground. She was glad that Micah was carrying the very heavy, awkwardly bulky wereleopard and not her.

They made it to the living room of the Circus and Micah placed the sleeping leopard on a rug. There was an outfit that had been laid out for him, a pair of ordinary pyjamas, very tame for Jean-Claude, though as they seemed to be Jason’s pyjamas, she wondered if the blonde wolf hadn’t had some say in things, or perhaps Richard.

“Is he stuck in leopard form?” The Ulfric asked them.

“No, he’s just exhausted. The change took a lot out of him and, from what I saw, it was a very violent first turning. He was in a lot of pain beforehand.” Anita sighed. “It might be a while before he has the energy to change back.”

She went and gave Richard a short peck on the mouth before she went to Jean-Claude. It had been a long-ass night and it was only going to get longer while waiting for the boy to change back before taking him home to Jefferson County. She didn’t even know who to call about him, if he had worried parents hovering near the phone for any news on him, a sweetie of his own somewhere, but until they knew what he looked like, they couldn’t check any missing people records, and they couldn’t ask him while he was in leopard form, obviously.

It took two hours before the leopard made a soft noise and rolled over. From one moment to the next, the black leopard became a tiny boy, far too skinny, pale-skinned and very bare on the rug. The first thing they all noticed about him were the scars that covered him…they had not come from his turning. The second thing they noticed was the sharp jut of bones, they stuck out everywhere, at his ribs, his collar bones, his hips, he was all bone and no flesh, like he’d been progressively starved throughout his life. It made Anita wonder if he was a chronic anorexic or bulimic, if so, he would need more help than they had anticipated.

The boy shivered with the sudden lack of fur and he sat up, very tense, very alert and very aware for having just woken up, and for his first change back too. Tousled jet-black hair falling in every direction and wary emerald eyes looking at them all. He seemed to be looking for someone in particular, and he found them when his gaze locked with Micah and he settled, his shoulders relaxing from their hunched-up position.

Because of that clear sign of trust, it was Micah who approached him, holding out the jammies. The boy thanked Micah softly and allowed Micah to help him dress, as his muscles jumped and spasmed from the change and the lingering pain from injuries that had healed much too fast for the boy’s body, and mind, to comprehend. As small as Jason was, his pyjamas hung loose on this boy.

“What is your name?” Micah asked gently.

“Harry.” The boy answered easily. There was a hint of an accent that Anita didn’t like. It was a soft voice, clear, and very British.

“How old are you, Harry?”

“Nineteen.” He said, which came as a surprise, as Anita had been thinking that he was younger. She should have known better that size didn’t equal age…nor strength or ability.

“Do you have a number that we can call to inform someone of what happened and where you are?” She asked him.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked back.

“A phone number, for your parents, or anyone who might be worried about you?”

“There’s no need to bother.” Harry said easily. “I’m alone.”

“Completely alone?” Micah asked this time.

Harry nodded easily, unconcernedly, as if it wasn’t unusual to not have anyone at all around him.

“Any friends that might be missing you?” Micah tried.

“No. I’m alone.” Harry repeated, a little sharper this time.

They got the hint to drop it.

“Your accent is British.” Anita said, and immediately she was pinned in a gaze by those eyes. They were so shadowed, so hurt and haunted. She wished again that she could have saved him sooner. She felt so guilty looking into those hurt eyes, knowing that it was because she hadn’t gotten to him in time.

“I am British. I moved here a few months ago.” Harry told her. None of them could detect any hint of a lie.

“Do you remember where you were staying, so that we might go and pick up your things?” Micah asked. “It’s okay if you don’t; not many people remember a lot after the first few changes.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. They could see him thinking hard, trying to walk back through his recent memories.

“I don’t remember. It’s a hotel somewhere. I think it’s near a river, but I can’t remember the name. Everything is fuzzy and it sort of feels like nothing is linear. I can’t put the pieces of what I do remember in any sort of order. ”

“That’s normal and you’ve remembered more than most people can. We’ll check all of the hotels near rivers and we’ll find your things. Are you happy to stay here with us?”

Harry just nodded easily. He didn’t seem bothered. There was an easy grace to him, it was almost how she carried herself, confident, self-assured. He wasn’t worried because he didn’t feel threatened by them. For a nineteen-year-old who had just been hurt and attacked, who had just been turned into a wereleopard, and had only just woken up in an unknown location, surrounded by strangers, it was unsettling.

“I assume that control will come with time and practice?” He inquired. It was all too easy and too accepting. He didn’t seem to care that he was now a wereleopard.

“It will, yes. But we’ll help you with that and you’ll be fine.” Micah said, showing no signs of how uneasy this calm acceptance was to them all.

Harry nodded. “Thank you.” He said.

“Has it sunk in that you’re a wereanimal now?” Anita couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes, I understand.” Harry answered.

“Right, well, now that you’re awake, we’ll take you to our home in Jefferson County and we’ll get you settled in. We’ve got a room made up for you already.” Anita said, completely thrown by this easy acceptance and the lack of tantrums and bitch fits. It was surprising, but in a good, refreshing way.

Harry was introduced to everyone there at the Circus. Jason, who’s pyjamas he was wearing, Jean-Claude, the master of the city, Richard Zeeman, the wolf king, his enforcers Jamil and Shang-Da, some of the bodyguards and security of the Circus; Claudia, Fredo, Wicked and Truth, and he greeted them all politely, shook their hands, standing head and shoulders shorter than them all, looking absolutely dwarfed, and then she and Micah were leading him back to the cars and taking him home to meet Nathaniel, who was their live-in lover, Cynric, her blue tiger to call who lived with them, Nicky, a werelion and her ‘bride’, and Zeke, Gina, and their baby boy, Chance, who also lived with them.

Again, Harry was very polite and calm. He greeted everyone, even baby Chance, and when Nathaniel offered him tea, he all but sagged on his feet and almost bit Nathaniel’s hand off at the offer. Anita had never been so grateful for Nathaniel’s little quirks of buying tea and coffee. No one had even used the tea before…until now.

Nathaniel was curious about the boy. He happily talked to him and Harry was just as easy to talk back. It was like watching two old friends catch up with one another’s lives. Harry was smiling and engaging, drinking his tea and just chatting to Nathaniel. It was almost surreal.

Of course, the topic of jobs had come up, Harry was unemployed but had enough money to support himself while he figured out what he wanted to do and Nathaniel had come right out and told Harry that he was a stripper. Harry had blinked and then asked how Nathaniel liked it and, once hearing that Nathaniel really liked it and had a bit of an exhibitionist streak (which made Anita blush and need to turn away from her lover) and that he wasn’t being forced to do it for any reason, Harry had just nodded and accepted it as if Nathaniel didn’t do anything more than serve coffee in a café.

“I can see what you’re thinking.” Micah said quietly into her ear. “I feel it too.”

“It’s all very easy and smooth.”

“Some people do accept their new status easily.” Micah told her.

“I’ve never seen it happen, though.”

“Well, now you are seeing it. He doesn’t care, Anita. He knows that he’s a wereleopard and he doesn’t care.”

“It’s so much easier when they don’t care.”

Micah smiled and nodded. “He’ll be okay. I can say that already. We just need to teach him, let him practice going between human and animal form and he’ll be fine. He’s going to thrive here. He’s a very rare young man.”

Anita nodded her agreement to that. “Very rare.”

Of course, nothing was ever that simple, nothing ever stayed good for very long, not in her life, and when they showed Harry his own room, he thanked them politely, with a nice smile, and he went to bed nice and easily.

She, Micah, and Nathaniel retired to their own room for a bit of fun before they fell asleep, but it was only three hours later that they were all jolted awake by high-pitched, terrified screams.

Anita grabbed her gun and had it drawn in one smooth move, chasing after Micah, who had darted from the room and down the hall to Harry’s room. She put up the gun as soon as she saw him caught in a nightmare. She took a breath to ease her breathing and heart rate back down and she waved to Cynric and Zeke, who had peeked out of their rooms to see what was going on. She could hear Gina soothing a crying Chance. Nicky refused to leave her back, ever her protective bride.

Micah indicated that he was staying where he was, Harry clutched hold of him tight in fright, and she closed the door on them both, sent Nicky back to his own room, and she went back to Nathaniel.

“Nightmares?” He asked her.

She nodded. “Yes. I suppose it was too much pressure to put on him to think that he wouldn’t have any after what he went through. I just didn’t think about it. I should have. Micah is going to stay with him.”

“The scent of a fellow leopard should help.” Nathaniel nodded, drawing her back into the bed.

Anita nodded too. “I hope they don’t last too long.”

“We’ll help him through it, no matter how long they last.” Nathaniel said, tucking her under his chin.

She tried to get back to sleep, but her body was wired and keyed up now. It took her ages to relax herself, and even longer to get back to sleep, her mind circling on thoughts of the young man who was currently wrapped up in Micah’s arms down the hall.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Things were not quite so simple and Harry suffered with nightmares every night. He was so apologetic in the morning, his eyes rimmed red, bruised black and purple with tiredness, that no one could find it within themselves to hold it against him.

Harry himself was tortured by nightmares of the war, which in itself wasn’t unusual; he suffered with them more often than not, but it was unusual that it was every night. It had to have been the recent abduction and attack he had suffered, forcing up those memories. Not that he could tell anyone that that was what it was.

He felt awful for lying to these wonderful people who were so selflessly helping him, but what other choice did he have? They were already curious about the scars littering his body, about his easy acceptance of all the things that had happened to him, and his complete, unhesitant acceptance of his brand new leopard side.

He spent most of his time shadowing Nathaniel at the big house in Jefferson County. The vampire master of the city, Jean-Claude, had tracked down his hotel room and collected his stuff for him. Harry had taken one look at the trunk and asked that it be kept at the Circus; it would be safe there. But his few changes of clothes, his passport and money, and his photo album had been brought here without question and put away in ‘his’ room. It sounded nice when people called it his. It was almost like belonging again. It had been a while since he’d belonged anywhere.

Today, he was in the kitchen with Nathaniel, watching him and his ‘sous chef’ Nicky, cook dinner for everyone. He’d offered to help too, but Nathaniel had said no, so Harry had offered to make dessert instead, unwilling to give up on doing his bit, but not wanting to step on Nathaniel’s toes.

“Sure, Harry.” Nathaniel agreed softly and Harry lit up with happiness. “Just don’t do too much, you’re pushing yourself.”

“I am okay.” Harry insisted as he bounced around Nathaniel, grabbing ingredients and watching happily as Nathaniel smiled at him.

Nicky, the absolutely huge, very well-muscled werelion, just looked at them both and rolled his one eye at them. Harry couldn’t look at Nicky and not find him attractive. He strained the sleeves of the tee-shirts he wore, and he had to wear shorts with slits in the sides because his thighs were just that big. His jeans had to be tailor-made to fit his massive thighs and still fit him at the trim waist too. He was a perfect specimen of a man, it was too bad that he was mostly straight.

Nathaniel had been wonderful to him, though. Always willing to help him, even if it was to just talk or cuddle up. He knew now that he could always cuddle up with Nathaniel, no matter the time, all he had to do was ask, and sometimes not even then. Wereanimals liked physical contact, he’d been told, so sometimes people just sat next to him and threw an arm around him, cuddling him and it was perfectly acceptable to cuddle right up to them, lounging on laps and chests. It didn’t mean the same thing as it would to humans. It was normal wereanimal behaviour and it was expected and welcomed and even encouraged to get him socialising with all the wereanimals around him.

The best was when he went to the Circus yesterday with Nathaniel, because Jason had been there and the moment the little blonde wolf had realised that he’d never tried McDonald’s food before, he’d grabbed his hand and Nathaniel’s, called out for another wolf, Stephen, to follow them, and they’d just walked off, going to the nearest McDonald’s and ordered a massive amount of food for all of them. Harry had been tentative at first, but Dudley had always gotten fast food before, and he never had, so he relished being able to have it now, with boys near enough the same age as him, and just having the freedom to sit like this and demolish the food, laughing and joking, just like normal people. Jason had taken photos of him with his phone and sent it off to other people, declaring his pride for their new little wereleopard eating his first ever fast food. Jason made Harry laugh, made him feel like he was a part of the group and not an outsider or intruder. Harry could have kissed him for that alone.

“What are you making?” Nathaniel asked him curiously, watching him as he leant against the counter, the food he’d made for dinner in the oven.

“Cakes.” Harry said with a smile. “Chocolate ones.”

“I can’t wait to try one.” Nathaniel told him, wrapping his arms around him, bending down and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Used to the touchy-feeliness of the wereanimals, Harry carried on, his leopard waking up enough to sniff out Nathaniel’s leopard and purr happily. The purr came out of Harry’s throat. He’d been getting used to that too.

Nathaniel laughed happily, squeezing his middle and then nuzzling into him. Harry squirmed happily and chuckled.

He and Nathaniel got on very well. Nathaniel was placid and docile as a lamb. Post-war, Harry was easy and content to let everything lie. He would do what he could to ease arguments, he shut down fights before they started and he’d clean up during the aftermath. He’d had enough of fighting and being angry all the time, so he helped, not hindered, and that made him almost invaluable to those around him. He was a mediator, a peacekeeper, not a fire starter. Saint Louis, he’d learned, had a distinct lack of peacekeepers and one too many fire starters. Though, the biggest mediator they had in the community was Micah.

‘Do you want to talk about your nightmare last night?’ Micah would always ask at breakfast, and Harry would give him a tired smile and tell him a little of what had bothered him during the night. It was during the little talk this morning that Harry had let slip about the war for the first time and everything had just stopped.

Everyone had looked at him and he’d gone back over what he’d said and his head had dropped.

‘I never meant to mention that.’ He’d told them softly.

‘What war, Harry?’ Anita had asked him seriously.

Harry remembered that he’d stalled, taking another sip of the tea that Nathaniel kept buying just for him. He’d sighed as he realised that he couldn’t wriggle out of it, not with these people.

‘Do you remember the terrorist attacks in Britain last year?’ He’d asked.

Anita had frowned, but Micah had nodded. ‘Yes, bridges were attacked, people were being killed, entire neighbourhoods were attacked at once. Were you caught up in that? You’d have only been seventeen, eighteen.’

Harry just nodded. ‘It was a war. We were all fighting it, no one got to escape. That’s what the nightmares are about.’

‘They’re not about you being attacked and turned?’ Anita had asked in shock.

‘No. I think the attack is making the nightmares worse, I’m not feeling very stable or safe at the moment because of it, but…I was having nightmares even before I was attacked and turned.’

So, now everyone sort of knew that he had been caught up in a war back home in Britain and the subtle probing changed immediately, instead of helping him to deal with the attack and the aftermath, he was instead being helped to deal with everything that might have affected him during a war, including a phone chat with Gwen, a werewolf, who was also a psychologist, that afternoon who had talked to him about PTSD.

He did actually feel better after that phone call and he had promised to meet with Gwen in person.

“You really are lost in memory.” Nathaniel told him, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Sorry. I just…I was thinking about this morning. I really never meant to let it slip.”

“I’m glad that you did. Now that we know what’s actually wrong, we can help you better.” Nathaniel told him happily. “I still can’t believe that you were caught up in a war so young.”

“It explains the way you hold yourself, though.” Nicky added from the kitchen table.

Harry sighed. “It was horrific. We were forced to fight, we were just teenagers and we had to fight. There was just no other option. People were dying left and right, people were going missing and you just knew that they’d fallen into enemy hands and they’d never be seen again. You hoped that they were dead, which was awful enough to hope for, but the alternative was…it didn’t bear thinking about. It was a terrible time.”

Nathaniel came and held him tight, running his hand gently over the back of Harry’s head and through his hair. Harry never kicked up a fuss about his hair being played with; it never lay flat anyway, so it never mattered to him, and Nathaniel’s fingers running through it was so nice and soothing.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Harry peeked up at the older, much taller man and smiled softly. “It’s okay. It’s over now. I am having some nightmares, but that’s all they are. Just memories.”

Nathaniel bent and rubbed all over his face and Harry laughed happily, as Nathaniel had known that he would, and he moved off to get dinner from the oven, allowing Harry to put his cakes in. He looked to the clock on the wall; Micah would be home first, any moment now, and then Anita would walk in, maybe twenty minutes after.

“Hey guys, how are you?” Zeke asked, walking into the kitchen carrying his son on his hip.

Harry clapped his hands and held his arms out and Zeke laughed and handed the baby over trustingly. Harry sat at the table with Nicky, the baby held securely on his one thigh and Harry got eye contact and started talking to baby Chance as if he were an actual adult. Asking after his day and acting as if the baby had answered, carrying on a one way conversation occasionally accompanied by baby burbles and giggles and attempts to grip his hair or his lips, watched by a bemused Nicky, who always refused to go near Chance because he just didn’t know what to do with a baby.

“He’s so good with Chance.” Zeke told Nathaniel with a smile. “Maybe if he was a girl you could have wrangled a baby from him over Anita.” He joked.

Nathaniel smiled, but inside, that comment had hurt. He wanted a baby so much, one of his own, but Anita would never consent to it. It would interfere with her life too much, with her careers, she had no time for a pregnancy, for a baby. He looked again at Harry and Chance. Zeke was right, Harry was very good with the baby and if Harry were a girl, and they pulled him into their little group of three, maybe he would have consented to carry his baby. Perhaps then he could have realised his dream of being a father.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

That night, Harry had the worst nightmare since he’d arrived and he was so scared that his magic started reacting. He hadn’t used his magic since he’d made the decision to come to America, he wanted to lock away that part of himself, that painful part that was linked to painful memories and now, he couldn’t control it.

He got so scared of his memories that, when Micah came hurrying into the room to soothe him, he burst his skin…not into a leopard as normal, but as a tiger…a green tiger.

“Anita!” Micah called out worriedly.

Anita came charging from down the corridor, gun in hand, but the gun dropped to her side immediately when she saw what was in the room…what Micah was looking at.

“Is that…?”

Micah nodded. “I didn’t realise he held tiger in him as well, no wonder he has been so out of sorts. His tiger must have been riding him hard and he wouldn’t have known how to shift between animal forms. Those people must have injected him with several vaccines!”

“I didn’t realise that there was such a thing as a green tiger. I don’t hold green tiger, I don’t think.” She said as she called to her tigers and let the scent of them wash over her.

She approached Harry, who was huddled in a scared, miserable ball on the floor, and she allowed him to sniff at her. It took a few minutes, but he shifted slowly, edging out of his curled up state and he came to her, sniffing her and then he whined softly and laid his green head, with his darker green stripes, in her lap and snuggled in close.

“This has to stop, Micah.” Anita said as she ran her hands through that soft, warm fur. “If he needs someone to sleep with him, then he can join us in our bed.”

“Are you sure?” Micah asked.

Anita nodded and tapped Harry gently on the nose. “Turn back, Harry. Come on, you can do it. Just think of your human side and shift.”

The green tiger closed the stunningly green eyes that he and his human counterpart shared, and a moment later, her lap was occupied by a naked, skinny nineteen-year-old who shivered with the lack of fur.

“Come on, Harry. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Anita assured him and Micah came to haul the young man up to his feet, holding him tight and close, letting the familiar scent of leopard soothe him. Harry’s own leopard perked up and purred at the touch of his Nimir-Raj.

Nathaniel was sitting up in the bed, waiting for them, when they walked in and, when he saw that Harry was with them, he scooted over a touch to make room. Harry was urged into Nathaniel’s arms and he didn’t need to be told twice. He cuddled up with the lovely leopard and buried his nose in Nathaniel’s neck, comforted by the strong, muscled arms that wrapped around him and Nathaniel’s vanilla scent.

Anita cuddled up to his back and Micah’s hand touched his hip. Harry breathed in a few times, then he settled and allowed his body to relax and go boneless. He fell asleep within seven minutes. It was the most restful sleep he’d ever had and Anita made the decision to invite him to stay in their bed for as long as he needed.

It was Nathaniel who kept pulling him in every time Harry made to go to his own room, telling him that he wasn’t better yet and he needed more time, so Harry carried on sleeping in the big bed with Nathaniel, Anita, and Micah, and not one of them made him feel like a burden, or like he was interfering. It made him feel wonderful, and for the first time since before the war, he felt loved.

Of course, his little revelation that he was a green tiger had shocked the Saint Louis preternatural community and the next day he was trotting around Jean-Claude’s living room in his newly found green tiger form, which was much, much bigger than his leopard form, just to prove to several disbelievers that he was actually a green tiger and that it hadn’t been a trick of the low light that had confused Anita and Micah.

He was still gangly with his new forms, so he would accidentally trip himself now and then as his back paw would cross his front paw. He did as such that day, and he bowled into Jamil, Richard’s Skoll, his first enforcer, and Jamil went down cursing, but his hands were gentle when he scratched at Harry’s face and ears.

Harry whined in apology and nuzzled at Jamil and he hefted himself up, licked Jamil’s face with a sandpapery tongue and then he started circling again. He was encouraged to do this to practice moving on four legs; he still wasn’t used to it, but that wasn’t unusual, he’d been assured. The most unusual thing was that he was green. He’d seen Cynric in tiger form once before, and he’d thought it strange then that he was blue. It was a strange, unnatural colour for a tiger, for any big cat, and now Harry was one of the strange collection of rainbow tigers.

“I have never heard of such a colour.” Mephistopheles, one of the supposedly extinct golden tigers, announced as he watched Harry prance around. “Green tigers are…I’ve never even heard of them. I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing him with my own eyes.”

“So you can’t help?” Anita replied.

“I can help to instruct him, of course. He is still a tiger, no matter his colouring, but I have not even heard of any tiger being green; there are no stories, no legends, nothing.”

“We said about the rainbow before, we have orange, red, gold, white, black, blue…is it so unusual that Harry is green?” Micah asked.

“Yes.” Mephistopheles Devlin Devereux, who preferred to be called Dev, shortened from his nickname, Devil, answered. “Though we know that gold, black, and blue are endangered, they are at least known. No one has ever mentioned a green tiger before, not even as extinct.”

“This must be why Harry’s scent is slightly off.” Micah said. “Because of the green tiger he holds.”

Anita nodded. He did have a bit of a strange smell to him in this form. It was incredibly difficult to describe, it wasn’t unpleasant, but it did tickle the nose and stick in the lungs, so that, at times, it was all that she could smell.

Tiger Harry yawned and circled, right there on the carpet and it made her smile as he curled up like a domestic cat and folded down his paws to catch a nap.

“You shouldn’t sleep in animal form. You’ll be cold when you turn back.” Nicky told Harry, who cracked open an eye and chuffed before settling back down.

“Well, he certainly is a green tiger.” Anita pointed out. “So what do we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do about it. He is a green tiger and there is no changing that. Perhaps he will awaken your own green tiger, perhaps he is an odd, one-off that shouldn’t exist and only came to be because of the vaccine, we don’t know.” Dev said. “I would have expected him to turn into a black tiger, as he turned into a black leopard, as he’s not strictly an attack survivor. He wasn’t bitten by another weretiger, his form has come from the vaccine.”

“Whatever is going to happen will happen, Anita. We can’t control it.” Micah soothed.

“I’m worried about this getting out. A tiger that shouldn’t exist. It could put Harry in danger.”

“We’ll look after him.”

“The way that boy carries himself, he would have no problem taking on anything.” Nicky pointed out. “If you wanted, I could take him for self-defence lessons and see where he stands. He does carry himself like he knows what he’s doing, though. His reactions are quick…quicker than any newbie I’ve ever met, but then, he did go through a war.”

“Shh!” Micah shushed quickly, looking closely at the sleeping Harry before looking back at Nicky. “He gets upset when it’s mentioned and his nightmares are worse if it’s brought up during the day.”

“I’m just saying. It has to be because of that; his reactions are amazing. If he would just consent to being trained up a bit, and in shooting too, he’d be a match for the guards.”

“We’ll ask him, but I don’t want to force the issue. He’s going for meetings with Gwen next week; he needs to recover from that time in his life.” Micah insisted. “It haunts him, Nicky. He has nightmares every single night and he’s starting to look even more ill, which I didn’t even think possible, considering he came to us looking ill in the first place. We need to help him now, not force him to fight again.”

“We are numerous enough that we can protect him.” Jean-Claude said firmly. “If our young, newly turned wereanimals have to defend themselves, then everything has already gone to shit, as you would say, ma petite.”

“Learning to defend himself isn’t forcing him to fight.” Anita sighed. “I insisted that Nathaniel learnt to defend himself and how to shoot a gun. I will do the same with Harry, but not right away. It has been five weeks. He’s been injured and traumatically turned. He needs time to recover from that, add in this war he’s been through and his recovery time shoots up to however long Gwen suggests he needs.”

“I’ve been looking that up. The war in Britain.” Richard spoke up. “It was a time of utter confusion and panic. No one seems to know what happened or what went on, or even who was fighting or for what. It was all claimed as terrorist related, but buildings were demolished, bridges were brought down with no idea as to why or what caused it, people went missing or were found dead…entire neighbourhoods went up in flames and people were locked in their homes and couldn’t get out. It was horrific and he was caught up in all of that…” Richard trailed off and shook his head.

“So, no idea on who was behind it or why?”

“No, but one young man, only seventeen at the time, received a special medal for valiant services to public safety.” Richard said pointedly.

“Harry?” Anita gasped.

Richard nodded. “He’s really beaten and cut up in the picture, he looks like a shell of the boy we’ve seen, even worse than he looks now, if you can believe it. But it’s definitely him accepting the award. From the way the article was gushing, he was the one to stop the attacks. He was fighting on the front line to protect other people, putting his own body in the path of others like a living shield, and he was hailed as a hero for it. Less than half a year later and he’s here in America.”

“It was only a few months ago?” Micah demanded. “From the way he was speaking, I thought it had been longer than a year.”

“No. He received the award at the end of May this year.”

“That means, from the way he was speaking, that the war lasted for at least two years.” Anita pointed out.

“That we know of.” Micah said softly. “It could have been longer.”

“You don’t think he was fighting all that time, do you?” Nathaniel asked quietly. “He would have been very young.”

“Only he can answer that question, Nathaniel.” Micah told him.

“And he doesn’t like it being discussed.” Anita added. “It might be a while before we find out all of the details of this war.”

“The more he comes to trust us, the more he will open up.” Richard said. “From what little I read, he’s been through hell and back and it wasn’t even all that long ago. It’ll take time.”

“How is he settling in at yours?” Claudia, one of the guards, asked curiously.

“Really well. He’s so…easy to deal with.” Anita said happily. “He doesn’t cause waves or bumps, he just fits right on in. It’s like he’s always been there. It helps that he’s not all elbows and knees when he sleeps and doesn’t try to steal the blankets.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve made him yet another lover.” Richard demanded. “I thought you learnt your lesson of sleeping with young boys from Cynric.”

“No, we haven’t.” Anita snapped back. “He’s an injured boy who has been through a traumatic experience. He sleeps in our bed for comfort, Richard, to keep away his nightmares. Nothing more.”

“It helps with his nightmares to have a pard member next to him.” Micah added mildly, but those yellow-green eyes were fixed on Richard warningly.

“I’ll give it a week.” Richard growled.

“Enough.” Anita demanded. “What we do is none of your business anymore, Richard. You’re no longer my sweetie and what I do, or who I take to bed, is no concern of yours. Harry is nineteen, he’s older than Cynric was back then, and if we want to add him to our group, we will.”

“But he’s younger than Cynric is now, and your excuse for not making him another boyfriend is that he’s too young.” Richard said through clenched teeth.

“Cynric is young in his ways.” Micah said for her, and he was right. He knew her thoughts, and he saw what she could. Cynric had been spoilt and pampered with Bibiana and Max as the only known blue tiger left. He acted younger than he was and he came across as a boy pretending to be a man. Harry, she thought, wouldn’t do any such thing.

Richard didn’t answer that, but he did storm off, his fists clenched so tightly that his massive arms shook. Anita sighed. He’d been getting better lately with his anger issues, but some things still pushed his buttons, and her lovers happened to be a very big button to press.

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Harry was standing in the training room, on one of the dozen mats, opposite the huge werelion, Nicky, and wondered why he was being forced to do this. Oh, he understood it all well enough in theory. They wanted to test him, to teach him self-defence, but after living through a war, killing hundreds, he just didn’t understand why it was needed so much as for several people to insist upon it. Didn’t they know that you didn’t survive a war if you didn’t know how to fight or protect yourself?

Maybe it was the nature of his turning? How he’d been captured and injured and tied up before being set loose, his captors intending to use him as a weapon to kill innocent people and bring down all wereanimals. He’d had enough of being a weapon to be used, however, a lamb to the slaughter, and he had not played along in their little game.

It didn’t help that the audience for this little session was much larger than he’d been expecting. Anita and Micah he’d expected to come and watch, but Richard and his enforcers were there too. As were the gold tigers and a lot of the guards for the Circus, who stood out in their combat trousers and black or red tee shirts that they wore as a uniform. A few of the younger, weaker wereanimals were there too; Nathaniel, Jason, Stephen, a handful of out of place leopards who looked like they couldn’t fight their way out of a wet paper bag. And then there were more people on the fringes that he didn’t even know. All of them were standing and watching him. Staring at him. He never liked it when people stared at him.

“So, do you know hand-to-hand?” Nicky asked him, looking at him closely through his one eye. Harry made a mental note to use his blind side against him.

“Yes, it’s not my favourite, but…” He trailed off with a shrug. “If you get disarmed, hand-to-hand is all you have left.”

“Weapon of choice?” Nicky asked him.

“You’ll laugh.” Harry insisted unhappily.

“No one is here to judge anyone.” Anita cut in firmly. Harry tried not to notice her breasts in the tight workout top or her smooth legs in the shorts. He knew wereanimals could hear a heartbeat and sense hormonal changes. The last thing he wanted to do was be completely obvious that he found her attractive; enough of the men here were doing that already and he was too respectful of Anita to join them.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Sword.”

“Come again?” One of the guards asked, stepping forward. All Harry knew about him was that he was a wererat and his name was Fredo.

“My weapon of choice is a sword!” He growled, his beast picked up his head and Harry smelt the fur of his leopard before he took a breath and soothed himself without anyone else needing to come to help him.

“You’re getting much better at pushing your beast back down, Harry. Well done.” Micah praised him, having stepped forward to offer him help, but it hadn’t been needed.

Harry smiled at the praise and he breathed more evenly. His leopard side settled down again.

“Most people prefer guns.” Fredo said.

Harry shook his head. “I’ve never touched one before. It sounds…well, I was killing people, can it sound at all good? But, to me, it was better to do it close, to make sure that they were dead and not getting back up and with as many people that were fighting, stopping to reload might have meant my death. You don’t need to reload a sword.”

“I want to test you with a blade.” Fredo said.

“I have him first.” Nicky growled at the wererat.

“Careful, Nicky. That almost sounded possessive.” Harry teased with a grin. “Someone might think that you were coming on to me.”

Of course, Jason laughed first. That pervy blonde wolf was completely shameless and unabashed, of course he would find such things funny.

“You ain’t my type.” Nicky told him. “Your tits aren’t big enough.”

“But…everything else is perfect, right?” Harry teased.

Nicky’s lips twitched. “You’re like a bratty little brother.”

Harry grinned then. “No one’s ever said that to me before…the little brother thing, not the bratty thing. I already knew that.”

That drew more laughter, but Nicky, ever the dirty player, rushed at him, before anyone had said to begin, before anyone was ready for it. Harry supposed that this was just part of the test, as he dropped to the mat and rolled right between Nicky’s legs, grabbing a hold of the left one on his way and he tugged the huge werelion off of his feet and onto his belly.

Not wasting a moment, Harry bent the leg backwards and sat himself on Nicky’s back, still tugging on his leg as if he would pull it clean off. In this form, he might actually be able to.

“Watch your strength, Harry. This is practice, not a real fight.” Micah cautioned him.

Harry took that to mean that maybe he was pulling a little too hard and he eased up, only for Nicky to kick out and break the hold easily.

The next moments were desperate grappling and scrabbling. Nicky was bigger and heavier than him by miles. If he managed to pin Harry to the mat, then it was all over. He would never be able to break the hold, nor get himself back up. If he’d had any sort of choice in sparring partners, then he would not have chosen Nicky, whose legs were bigger than Harry’s whole body, whose arms bulged with muscle and threatened to rip the sleeves of his tee-shirt, as his thighs threatened to tear his shorts. They were very mismatched, but Harry was used to using his lack of height to his advantage, especially against those much bigger than him.

The series of punches and kicks were easy for Harry to dodge, especially now that he had the agility of two big cats, what was harder to break was when Nicky got a hold of his arm with a grip of iron.

Thinking fast, Harry dropped to his back on the mat and swung a kick at the arm holding his. He felt the impact all down his leg and Nicky let go with a curse, allowing Harry to scramble back to his feet and put some needed distance between himself and the bigger werelion.

They stared at one another for a moment, assessing, calculating, but there was a gleam of something in Nicky’s eyes now. Something that looked like pride and respect. Harry took that to mean that he was doing okay and that he was impressing his new ‘family’ well enough with their impromptu assessment of his fighting ability. But he hadn’t survived a war by being hopeless. He’d learnt, quickly, to mix magic and muggle fighting, because the Death Eaters hadn’t expected it, and it gave him just enough edge to take on grown men twice his age and size and beat them.

Nicky was harder to take down, as Harry had neither a sword nor would he use his magic…never again. That and Nicky was a straight-up thug, even with his blonde hair and his one blue eye making him look like a thuggish version of a cherub. He knew how to fight, he knew how to fight dirty, and he wasn’t afraid of doing so, and twice Harry had moved himself to take a blow to his upper thigh, intercepting a blow to his balls. Harry took his cues from Nicky, and their fight got dirtier than dirty, another attempted hit to the balls and a grip to the arm that almost ripped it from the joint and Harry fought back dirty and he bit Nicky’s arm…hard.

Harry tasted blood, but he didn’t care as he fisted hair and pulled as he kicked out the back of Nicky’s leg and shoved him, sending the bigger, bulkier man rolling. Nicky got back to his feet immediately and he carefully slid his gaze to the bite mark, before looking back at him.

“You feral boy.” Nicky grinned at him.

Harry grinned back, which was likely made more fearsome by the blood that he was sure would be coating his teeth.

“No one said anything about any holds being barred.” Harry said by way of an answer.

“This isn’t a hold, it’s a bite!” Nicky argued.

“No, it’s a hold.” Harry insisted. “I just held you between my teeth.”

“You almost took a chunk out of me.”

“Can’t take it, get off of the mat.” Harry encouraged, waving one hand to the edge of their sparring space.

The respite was over then, as Nicky charged back at him, fast and agile himself, despite his size, and Harry tried to use his weight against him. He was much smaller, thinner, more agile as he twisted his body away from grapples and punches and yet another attempt to crush his balls.

He gave Nicky a taste of his own medicine and when he next ducked down to avoid what would be an impossible hold to break, he punched the werelion right between the legs.

Nicky went to his knees immediately, cupping himself, before he flumped onto his side, gasping for breath. Harry took that time to wipe his mouth clean.

“Are you getting back up, Nicky, or are we done here?”

“I’d say you were done.” Jason pointed out. “He isn’t going to be moving for a while.”

“Good, I need a drink.” Harry laughed, moving and slipping himself from the mat.

Nathaniel offered him a bottle of water and Harry took it gratefully.

“You can certainly hold your own.” Micah told him proudly.

“I might need some more practice with knowing the limitations of my new strength.” Harry admitted as he unscrewed the top from the bottle.

“We can help you with that.” Anita insisted.

Harry, who was drinking deeply, gave her eye contact to show that he had heard her and nodded his head gratefully, even as he gulped the water down, swallowing hard.

“You’re a dirty little bastard.” Nicky told him, more recovered now, and accepting his own bottle of water.

“You’re one to talk, I caught no less than four attempts to hit me below the belt, I was just returning the favour! The only difference is I made my hits count.”

Nicky laughed then. “You don’t play fair.”

“No one said that I had to.” Harry grinned.

“I want to take you to the shooting range later.” Anita told him. “I know you don’t want to learn, but I insist, Harry.”

Harry sighed heavily and he nodded glumly. “If you insist, I won’t argue. I don’t really like guns, though.”

“They may save your life in this new, dangerous world that you’ve entered. When your opponent can bench press a car and has the same claws and teeth that you do, any advantage needs to be used and the biggest advantage is distance.”

Harry nodded. He understood, that’s why he wasn’t outright refusing, but he still didn’t like guns. He still remembered Uncle Vernon with the shotgun in the little shack on the rocks. How easily Hagrid had bent it and rendered it useless. If his opponent could bench press cars, as Anita and others insisted that wereanimals were strong enough to do, then what use was a piece of metal they could bend with their bare hands? Though, if he did shoot them before they could snatch it from his hands, that would be for the best, and likely the point of keeping an opponent at a distance. It was almost the same with magic, though the further away you were, the more diluted the effects of certain spells, and there was, of course, more of a chance to miss the target, or for an unsuspecting ally to be backed into the path of a spell that had been cast. He would never forget when he’d cursed someone fighting in that final battle and then realising it had been one of the Hogwarts students fighting against the Death Eaters.

Harry shook those thoughts from his mind immediately. He would not think of that now. The war was over. He would not taint this chance at a new life with thoughts and horrors of his old one.

The rest of the morning was dedicated to fighting dirty, learning to control his strength with Micah, learning how much force and pressure to use so that he didn’t accidentally rip off someone’s limbs and then, after a drive-thru lunch of cheeseburgers and fries, which was eaten in the car, they made it to the shooting range.

Micah took over the instructions for Nathanial, who was getting to be a better shot with every visit, while Anita started instructing Harry for the first time.

His aim was perfect, as it should be after the war, but the recoil was not what he’d been expecting, as a wand didn’t have any recoil, and the stance he needed to plant himself in to control the recoil was uncomfortable, which only got more and more unbearable the longer he held it.

He tried to ignore Anita’s small hands moving over his body, touching his waist and hips to turn him, holding his hands to the gun and adjusting them. She was a very attractive woman and her force of personality shone out brightly. He couldn’t help but like her. He liked Nathaniel too, who looked after him so well and let Harry trail after him, asking any questions he liked, sitting and sharing a drink with him, taking him out for fast food. He’d liked Micah first, who had been his rescuer. He’d liked Nathaniel second, because he was so affectionate and patient with him, but the more time he spent with Anita…well, he liked her too.

It was never going to happen. He’d only been here for a few scant weeks, but already he knew the situation. He knew of the ardeur and how many lovers Anita had already and how much she hated it, and more than that, he lived with her. He had heard her, Nathaniel, and Micah sometimes, in bed together, before he’d intruded with his nightmares that was. He refused to interfere with such things. That wasn’t the person he was, so he squashed everything down and compartmentalised everything until all he could focus on was the instructions given to him. He would make another try to sleep in the room that he’d been given tonight too. It was always Nathaniel who would tug him into his own bedroom and into the arms of the three of them, but the lack of sex between them must have been driving them mad…he didn’t want to be the cause of their frustrations.

Such plans went awry when Anita chose to stay at the Circus while the rest of them went to her house in Jefferson and Nathaniel looked at him with sad, lavender eyes and refused to let go of him.

“You’re not ready yet.” The other leopard insisted. “You keep pushing yourself without giving yourself the time to heal.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.” Harry admitted.

“You’re not.” Nathaniel told him firmly. “You’re a member of our pard, but more than that, you’ve become a friend and I won’t have any friend of mine suffer alone. We help you. Sleeping in our bed with us helps you. It’s just us boys today too, Anita is staying at the Circus. It’s more fun with just us.”

Harry laughed. “How?”

Nathaniel grinned at him. “There’s more room to roll about.”

“I usually sleep lying still.” Harry pointed out, purposefully allowing the suggestive comment to go over his head. Nathaniel didn’t mean any of it; that was just the type of person he was. Teasing and flirtatious. Harry knew that about him already so he didn’t let the words go to his heart.

“We’ve noticed.” Nathaniel nodded. “I’ve never known anyone to sleep so utterly still before.”

Harry didn’t say that it had come from a childhood of sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs with a wall tight to either side of him, which didn’t leave him any room to twist or turn. The habit had followed him into his teenage years and then into adulthood too. He slept like a plank, either on his back or on his belly, but once he fell asleep, he didn’t move…unless he was having a nightmare, that was, in which case he would ‘fight’ off his invisible foes.

“There you are, come on. I’m getting cold without you both.” Micah teased from the bedroom door.

“Harry’s trying to go it alone again.” Nathaniel sighed, as if hard done by.

Micah sighed himself. “I believe that it’s still too soon, Harry, but if you do want to try, you can always change your mind and crawl into bed with us if you have a nightmare during the night.”

“He better not, I have a test in the morning and he already ruined one of them by keeping me up all night. I won’t fail a second one because of him!” Cynric complained as he came up the stairs and went into his own room, shutting the door a little more forcefully than required.

“Ignore him.” Nathaniel insisted, staring hard at the closed door for a moment before turning back to him. “Come to bed with us.”

“I’m coming to rely too much on you all to soothe my nightmares. I’m going to forget how to do it on my own.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Micah asked him. “We’re not going anywhere. You haven’t made any sounds that you want to leave Saint Louis, so why not rely on us to help you?”

“I’ve always been very independent. I’m used to doing everything on my own. Dealing with everything on my own.”

“It sounds very lonely.” Nathaniel said, still holding his hand. Harry tried to ignore the burning warmth of it.

“You can still be independent while living in an animal group, Harry.” Micah told him. “But you have people you can turn to for help now. People who won’t hesitate to do anything for you. We care about you, we want to help you, so please, come to bed and let us help soothe your nightmares so that you can have a peaceful night.”

“I’m seeing Gwen tomorrow for the first time.” Harry said, looking at the floor.

“It’s nothing shameful to seek help when you need it and Gwen is lovely.”

“I had to have therapy too.” Nathaniel said. “After what I went through, it was only meeting Anita and Micah that helped me to function normally. I can drive a car now, thanks to them both. I can protect myself if I need to. Sometimes, it’s better to ask for help, Harry, and Gwen will help you. We will help you. Now come on, you’re tired.”

Harry smiled at that. “You make me sound like a toddler fighting against naptime. Are you going to read me a story and tuck me in too?”

“If that’s what you need.” Nathaniel said seriously.

Harry smiled at him, went on his tiptoes and he kissed Nathaniel on the cheek before dropping back down and cuddling into him.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely.

Bands of iron almost crushed him as Nathaniel held him back tight, crushing him in a protective hold.

“Anything you need, Harry. Anything.”

“Bed, now.” Micah ordered, coming into the hall and steering the both of them physically into the bedroom and giving them a small shove towards the bed before shutting the door and turning off the overhead light.

Nathaniel settled Harry in the bed first before he stripped himself naked and joined him. He’d never done that before. Nathaniel usually slept in small shorts, and the feeling of naked skin was so very tempting. Harry breathed through the automatic desire that welled up and he rolled onto his belly tonight, just in case he humiliated himself.

Nathaniel followed him and plastered himself to his back, holding him, comforting him, but he was completely naked, and though Harry had been told that nakedness was nothing to any wereanimal, that it was commonplace to see people wandering around naked, he couldn’t help but notice it when someone as beautiful and lovely as Nathaniel stripped in front of him.

Micah was wearing just shorts when he slipped into the bed and rolled to turn off the lamp, plunging them into darkness. Sandwiched between the two men, Harry had a harder time falling asleep than ever before. It wasn’t fair. He’d been alone for so long and now that he had found a place to finally call home, he was going to ruin it by feeling lustful desire for people who were already in relationships. It just wasn’t fair.

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