Bad Blood
Although they didn't want Lara's intel to be right - it turned out to be spot on. The stench of death lingered all over the place, and it was so potent that both Metas and Myranda had to snuff out their noses to rid their sensors of the amount of blood that was around the area.
"Ach - that's awful. Why do they smell so bad after the blood suckers get a hold of them?" Myranda sneered and shook her head as though it would help rid her nostrils of the odor.
"Everything they touch decays rapidly. I don't know why - all of our histories are hidden from one another. We once had a race of dragons before any of us were born, but everything about them has been destroyed. We have a great deal of understanding about Vampires, but not why they have the affects they do on living things," Metas explained.
"Ah. It's probably because they were touched by...ahg, I forget his name. Something the humans called him? It was a long time ago, and it doesn't matter because humans were selfish, short-sighted little creatures that hunted all of us for sport," Metas added coldly. "At any case, they were gifted their magic from someone named Lucyfern I believe. He was some great demon-god that a lot of creatures feared."
"You know so much. It's very impressive," Myranda replied and yearned to hear more. "I need to learn all of this to be a good Luna. I hope you don't mind helping me."
"Mandy - you are my life. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you - and nothing would make me feel bothered. I'd love to read history to you, at night before we sleep, and eventually to our pups," Metas led on and trailed off before he freaked her out.
"Thinking of pups already?" she teased.
"It's hard not to," came his smooth answer. It sent chills down her spine and to her tail.
"You have a very smooth tongue, my king. I should make sure to remember this when you want to get out of trouble. Although it probably won't do any good since you seem to be able to make me melt every time," Myranda said
"I hope you forget, then. It's nice to have a path to get out of trouble with you" he answered with a soft chuckle.
She hadn't wanted to ask yet, but she knew she had to - what happened to Syrana? They were getting closer to whatever putrid scent was in the air, and it prompted her to finally want to ask. However, just like all bad timing in Myranda's life - that opportunity was squashed when the view that they came upon was far more terrifying that anyone could imagine.
Werewolves. At least twenty of them, all dead - all with their throats bitten into, and their bodies drained of blood. It looked as though someone had rounded them all up and pulled them down to this spot as tribute.
Myranda had to turn her head from the scene immediately to relieve her eyes. She knew one or two of them instantly - her clan's alpha, and his luna. Silas must have come looking for them - or Syri - and thought they were protecting her and Metas.
She felt awful, and suddenly the self-pity she was feeling over Syrana became complete overshadowed by the grim reality before her. Silas was entirely unhinged to do something so foul. It was against every creed, code, law, and social order to never - EVER - collaborate with the demons of the night.
Who would turn such a blind eye from a matter such as this? Silas couldn't have done this alone...right?
Metas just stared at the group of the dead that had been tied down like the dogs humans used to own. No hope for escape. No hope for a future.
He wanted to memorize each face, each coat and each position these poor souls had been left in so that it would fuel his righteousness and rage when the time came to fight Silas. This was beyond unacceptable. This was beyond anything within the realm of actions one should take as the Alpha King.
"Metas...what should we do?" Myranda asked with her back turned to those she couldn't look at without losing her sanity.
Metas did not know any of these wolves - but Myranda did, and she couldn't bare to see those she grew up with in such a lowly state.
"He poisoned my sister...he's hunting my niece...he broke Lara's legs, imprisoned her, my sister and Veltar, he attacked you with a human weapon, and now this? This!? Petulant, nasty little termite!" Myranda growled and started to pace in a circle from anxiety.
"First, I will bury them in a dignified manner. Then, we will inform our group. Next, we plan how to get back into the fortified mountains without being caught," Metas answered sullenly.
"What?" Myranda paused and looked towards him with concern, "you're going to bury them all yourself? Absolutely not. I will do it with you. These are my wolves now, too. Anything my Alpha does, I shall do as well. It's only fitting. Would you just take care of a few of them on my behalf? I can't bury some of those that I knew."
"You don't have to even stay at all, my love."
"No. I'm staying. We do this together, or we don't do it at all - and doing nothing at all isn't on the option list," Myranda shook her head and looked into his hurt, and vulnerable eyes that held all the sadness one could for his charges.
"I am lucky to have you at my side, Mandy" he replied with grace and relief. Something inside of him told him he should lean on his mate more, because she was certainly capable of supporting him. Besides, he wouldn't let her do this alone either.
"Let's keep mates together if we can. I know a few couples - and all of these wolves came from my sector. He did this to hurt me, and to warn us. Too bad it's only fueled my desire for bloodshed," Myranda replied and took a seat next to him so she could press her face into the strong, and broad right side of his rib cage.
She hadn't been prepared for how good he smelled, and how much more potent his essence was when they were both in their canine form. It was odd that she hadn't been able to be this close to him in their blessed skins, and now she wanted nothing more than to dive into him and pull away all of the pain and guilt Metas was feeling - the same pain and guilt she felt with him the more she tuned into his soul.
It would not be a pleasant or easy task, but as soon as they both felt grounded, safe, and in-tune with one another they went to work quickly. It was going to take the rest of the day, and possibly into the night for them to accomplish their task, but that didn't matter.
All that mattered was ensuring the dead were respected, had their final rites, and were promised retribution. Silas would answer for this one way or another. They would both see to that - death was no longer an option or an appropriate end to this story.
Honor and glory from victory; or nothing at all.