CRYING WOLF.[nate]

[Catalin Holiday]

A LOT OF WORDS - NATHANIEL - AW SNAP
Eventually, Cat's voice had grown hoarse from screaming as the snake pit of darkness enclosed tighter around her so she couldn't move. She didn't know she was in a car, racing off into the city toward the Nexus where the bomb shelters were located. All she knew was that for a long time, she was swallowed by darkness and when she'd finally been unable to scream and she knew she had no more tears that could possibly be produced, it was only because the lack of oxygen in the tight space she was in wouldn't allow room for it. The feeling of being trapped and unable to move any of her limbs had thoroughly scared the life out of her, and she could feel herself trembling from the slight nervous breakdown of the entire process. She figured she now belonged in a padded white room with a straight jacket on, rocking back and forth and unable to deal with everyday human activities. She never did know where her irrational fears of snakes and enclosed dark spaces came from but they were heightened by these damn mages that were, for some reason, out to get them. Okay, so they killed a bunch of their mage buddies and stole some ancient tattoo ink. That didn't illicit this type of behavior - not even in the most petty and prideful of mages. No, they had to be after something else - and had just used the assignment and possibly even Nate as bait. After all, if it was Nate they wanted, he'd be here and not her.

When the enclosed space seemed to loosen, she blinked at the bright lights of the facility she found herself in. She didn't get to look around because she immediately felt shackles on her thin wrists and ankles after the feeling of soft fabric was draped over her naked form. Blue orbs adjusting to the florescent lighting, she looked down to see they had placed a white smock-like dress on her with the back opened. She felt someone's hands tying the strings and she came to the conclusion it was a hospital gown even though she hadn't worn one...ever. When she moved her ankles that finally touched the concrete floor, she heard chains and she noticed they were attached to the floor. When she moved her wrists, they were suddenly hoisted above her so the chains came down from the ceiling, keeping her arms firmly pinned above her in an uncomfortable position. Whenever she moved, she saw the dull, pale green glow of the magic encrypted into the chains. She knew what it said but she didn't know how to counteract it. They would change shape if she were to transform to keep her firmly in place in the center of the room with a drain not far from her. There was a heavy looking metal door a few yards across from her and the room was easily enough able to be considered a garage if it hadn't been for the semi low ceilings. There was only a slit in the door and she knew this would be her prison until further notice.

The person behind her moved around her, making sure the magic was heavily laid upon the shackles and then looked at her with a smirk. Anger started to boil up within her and she struggled, in vain, to get out of the chains, transforming into different felines, again, over and over in order to slip out but she knew it wasn't possible. She was bound by magic and not just any kind - it was made specifically to bound her. Blood magic as her old nanny told her once a long time ago; created for a specific person. Anyone else would have been able to break free of it.

But all of this felt like days, months ago. There was no telling time down there but what she did know was that more often than not, someone would come in, the same person who introduced himself as Spyro and explained what it was they wanted from her, and would always hold some type of implement of torture. His favorite seemed to be a whip that was silver tipped and blessed by some holy being he and his little...group...believed in. They wanted to take her collar off, to harness her as a demon and use her for their own bidding. Great. They wanted a pet. Why not be normal and go buy a dog or an iguana? No, they wanted a demon as a pet and since they couldn't summon one, they figured they would capture one. They knew a lot about Cat already - apparently her fallen angel nanny having had left behind quite a bit of information regarding the collar. If they took it off, they would replace it with their own, and keep her as a nice little surprise present for anyone who tried to bother them. He mentioned something about Europe as well, which didn't go well with her. In order to get the collar off, they had to get her angry enough, awaken that demon part of her so she would unleash it like before but that didn't happen easily.

That and Cat wasn't exactly focused on trying to change. She was focused on how many times this prick kept whipping her. She could feel the sting, the burn, the hissing on her back every time the whip came down and it only got worse because every time, he would do it over the old wounds that wouldn't heal. When he got bored of the whip, he figured burning her would work or scaring the living daylights out of her by filling her mind with all her worst fears. She always tried not to scream, but it didn't always work. She never thought she'd say she missed the sun, the open air, the city so damn much. She was tired from fatigue, from exhaustion, and she knew that if this kept on going, there was no way she would make it out of here alive.

Whatever time had passed, she dangled in her little prison, the light turned off as it normally was when Spyro wasn't in there in all his buff and tattooed glory. She could feel the shackles digging into the skin of her wrists and ankles as she trembled from how cold she was getting down there. Her lips were tinted purple, dark circles were under her eyes, and her head lulled limply in front of her so white locks fell like curtains around her face to hide it. She felt drained, mentally and physically, as her knees buckled together underneath her, sending a surge of pain through her shoulders. If she didn't stand it would feel like her arms were being ripped out from their sockets. She couldn't hear anything in there and she wanted desperately to hear something other than the unendurable silence. Wheezing as she tried to take in a lungful of air, the action made her ribs hurt. The white hospital gown lay discarded somewhere off to the side, obvious burns - like that of cattle - that looked like they were ripe for infection were across her arms and legs, bruises on her ribs, hips, and the obvious one on her jaw from getting a firm right hook there, and lastly there were the whip markings on her back, some still trickling blood while others attempted to heal.

The door opened but she didn't glance up, already knowing it was the only person who ever did come in to "visit" her. Her feline orbs remained closed as he turned on the light with a little click and when she opened them, all she saw was his feet by the blood stained floor, his heavy boots steel toed and not having a single scruff on them, "Alright, time to get this collar off,"

[/i] he spoke cheerily, "Since everything else hasn't worked, I figured we could try to old fashioned way." which was a way Cat didn't know and didn't want to look for in her brain. She was just hovering over that thin ledge between staying alive and awake and falling into a pit of death and demons clinging to her soul. Feeling his soft hands on her shoulders, they were suddenly around her neck and on the collar. Without thinking twice about it, her eyes grew large and her head shot up to attention. Oh hell no...this was going to hurt worse than anything... and she knew it.

With a smirk, he was suddenly gripping the collar like he was trying to open a bag of chips. The electric shock felt like lightening to her spine and she let out a scream at how it made all her nerves feel like they were on fire. He seemed pleased, she could smell it on him despite everything, and she continued screaming in pain as he started saying something but she couldn't hear it over her own crying and begging for him to stop. He then let go, after a few more moments of this, and the scent of burned skin hit her nose hard. She felt like her neck was too hot for comfort and as she trembled from the effort to keep still and standing, she saw the collar in his hands, his own hands heavily burned and blackened as he held it. He'd been chanting something but she couldn't remember. Either way-at least he had some kind of scar for what he'd down to her...

And the collar was off.

"Holy shit," she thought to herself. So that was how the collar came off? She had to be nearly dying and someone had to have the balls to rip it off for her. That explained a lot. She looked at him with wide, foggy, delirious eyes until there was a sudden thump, loud and clanging, against the door across from her. Someone seemed to knock it over so it fell flat on the ground and Spyro turned around, instantly having his silver snake tattoos ready and on hand to counteract whoever had broken in. Catalin remained in place, unable to move even if she wanted to, and much too weary to do so regardless. She remained limp against the chains- the only things holding her up and she let her head fall forward again, the effort of keeping it up too much of a hassle.Then the scent of werewolf hit her nostrils and she couldn't help but let the faintest of smirks fall onto her face.

He was so going to die now - and she found herself ridiculously happy with this revelation even if she was sure she'd probably die by the time the fight was over anyway.
[/color][/font][/size][/justify][/blockquote][/center][/div]

[Nathaniel Devlin]

******

All in all, it looked like to be the perfect day.


The sun was hidden amongst white fluffy clouds that dotted the clear blue sky while birds chirped among the various greeneries of various species of shrubs and trees that covered the forest. Even the smell of it was perfect; like fresh cut grass and vegetation, giving you the sense that everything was teeming with life. The scenery looked something you’d put on a postcard—except for the naked young man in the middle of the road, that is.


Nate was having a weird time, now that he was dead. He didn’t know why he died really. All he knew was that he was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. Still, his death wasn’t so bad. It felt a bit nice, really. He had no more problems to worry about; none that he could remember anyway. He had to admit; he didn’t really live the best kind of life that he’d really miss it that much now that he was dead. Death suited him just fine, he thought. Except for the uncomfortable backache he had been experiencing for a while now. Shouldn’t dead people not feel pain anymore? Plus, it felt like someone was staring at him.


His eyes flew open then.


A brunette was looking down on Nate, her olive-green eyes looking into the young werewolf’s eyes, a smile on her lips. Nate felt the heat coming to his face then as he realized he was entirely naked. If he wasn’t dead before, then he sure as hell wished he were now.


The brunette spoke then.

******

Nate was lost. Well, kind of lost. It was really hard to track people in the sewers, especially when guided by scent. The smell of shit, piss, and other various bodily fluids (among other things) didn’t really help in finding Cat. The scent had led the young wolf here so far, but it looked like it wouldn’t be useful anymore. Still, he knew they were somewhere here. It was only a matter of time until he ran into them though he wished it would happen soon. The constant bombardment of the fucking stench would either drive Nate insane or worse, he might develop some sort of liking for the smell. Nate shivered as he rounded another corner of the labyrinth-like maze of the sewers.


It wasn’t cold.

******

Finally! Nate had been inside the sewers for hours though it seemed to him like it had been days due to both worry and the unbearable stench (how the fuck were these mages stomaching this?), making him all the more glad when he had finally gotten the right place. He was right in his assumption. They had converted one of the many bomb shelters down here into a hideout. It wasn’t a bad idea either, Nate noted. He might have considered making one himself, if not for the stench. Then again, it might still be a good idea—anyone who knew Nate would think he’d never step foot in here, much less make it some sort of shelter. The young werewolf smacked himself in the head. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of stupid crap like that. He was here for one thing only—saving Cat. Sure, his thoughts also lingered on the why they kidnapped her in the first place, but that would come later.


He had to act quickly, Nate thought as he stood just inside the shadow of one of the walls, the mage’s hideout in perfect view. There were two guards stationed at the entrance and who knows who, or what, else lay inside. They had tracked them somehow using scent or something like it, so the moment Nate made his move, he’d be found out. Crap. There were to many unknowns with his enemy; he barely knew anything about them apart from what Cat had told him. He could’ve researched a bit more before coming, but by then who knows what would’ve happened to Cat. He might even be too late now, though Nate tried his best to get rid of those thoughts.


Nate closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost coughing in the process and giving him away. Fucking stench. There was nothing to do, but go in guns-a-blazing, he thought to himself. He had already died once; he’d probably filled his quota this week for it not to happen again. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t, not until he had saved Cat.


The guards had only seen a flash of gold in the shadows before their heads were ripped off from their necks.

*****

As soon as Nate had gone in, he immediately locked on to Cat’s scent and, as fast as he could, followed it. He was glad he had the element of surprise. Before anyone inside could recover from the shock of seeing a six-foot werewolf running towards them, Nate had already ripped of their heads or clawed out their hearts without stopping his speed. Surprise was his advantage, but it was quickly waning. Thankfully, though the scent seemed to stop inside a room with a steel door and by the scent he could smell through the small slate of it, he could tell Catlin wasn’t alone.

With one hand, Nate tore the door off its hinges, just in time for a silvery snake to lunge at him. The young werewolf used the door to block the snake’s attack while at the same time he ran passed it, and towards its master. Pure instinct made Nate duck as the snake flew passed where his head had been. Damn, the mage was good Nate thought. From the man’s scent he was confident and calm as he attacked Nate with dead accuracy, all the while mumbling some spell. Shit, Nate thought as he dodged another attack from the snake by a hair’s breadth. Not only was time running out before other would surely join in, but it also seemed like whatever spell the mage was chanting, Nate didn’t have the confidence enough to dodge it; not in this enclosed space. The snake was occupying the young werewolf’s thoughts so much so that he had only just now registered Cat’s scent.

Nate suddenly froze, the silvery snake’s fangs hitting home on his right arm, the silver coldly burning his flesh. He didn’t feel it though. All he could register was Cat’s scent. It smelled of death; like what one would smell if someone was dying.

Nate didn’t know how to react. Instead, he drove his hand straight into the man’s heart with blinding speed, so much so that the man had only registered surprise before he died. The young werewolf didn’t waste anytime as he broke the blonde’s chains and cradle her in his arms as he dashed out the way he had come. The other mages had finally been alerted and had begun to move; Nate could hear them shout commands, though it barely registered to him. He didn’t even notice that the blonde wasn’t wearing her collar anymore. He spoke to her as he ran, his voice a soft growl amongst the chaos that was erupting all around them.

“Hey c’mon Cat. Wake up.”

[Catalin Holiday]

A LOT OF WORDS - NATHANIEL - I LOVE CATHANIEL HAHA! LET ME KNOW IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE LOL
Cat couldn't tell when it was exactly that she had drifted off into some sweet little slumber. She didn't feel Nate rip off the chains, didn't feel his strong and secure arms wrapped around her as if she were a child. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die and Catalin was sure she was dying despite only one significant moment burrowing its way into her mind.

She was five years old and it was recess at the strict Catholic Academy she attended in Downtown London. Like always, she silently retreated from the group of students, especially the girls who were harsh to her, and went toward the heavily vegetated area of the playground on the side of the building. Weaving through the underbrush, she eventually found the fairly large hole in the fence and climbed through it, doing her daily routine of walking down the street to meet up with her nanny for lunch. It was a secret of theirs and her nanny trusted her enough to do this in silence without the nuns knowing. Her platinum blonde hair was long, then, put up in a high ponytail with a big pink bow. Her blue eyes looked much too large for her face, despite having a slight slant to them so they held the appearance of a cat. She was a lot smaller than the majority of her classmates and thinner. Clad in her black knee high socks, black penny loafers, plaid green skirt, and white button up and tie, she looked every bit the little school girl that she was.

All she had to do was walk up this back road, make a left on the corner, and on the next block would be the cafe where she and her nanny would have tea and blueberry scones while Cat would chatter away about what she learned in school thus far and the strange things her classmates called her. One of them had taken to calling her Casper, another called her a Ghost. Most simply called her Freak or they would avoid her. Her nanny always told her it was only that they feared what they did not understand - that is why men fear God. Cat had feared God then, had been a good little girl - though occasionally troublesome - and knew every book in the Bible, could be told a verse and she would know exactly where to find it, went to church every Sunday for mass, prayed before she went to sleep and when she woke up. She knew all the prayers on the rosary beads and she would confess her sins to her nanny because she was told she was much too young to confess to a priest just yet.

Innocent. That was what she was.

But she never made it to meet her nanny that day. Two of the boys from her class had followed her and grabbed her from behind. It wasn't much of a fight considering how small Cat was, and she was dragged into the darkest of alleyways. It was dreary that day, Cat remembered now. The humidity made her hair frizz a bit and made her skin irritated. But the boys, oh those boys...She'd never felt so much pain and anguish in all her years. She felt torn apart, tainted, and she hated the being known as God from that day on - and Catalin, while in Nate's arms, could suddenly remember every single moment of it in deep clarity...along with every moment she blacked out while wearing the collar.

She didn't know when she found herself dancing on the thread of death, so close to dipping her toes in the river so it could take her away to the depths of hell. But she kept dancing closer and closer, only to take two steps back. She felt like she was five years old again - innocent and pure before she'd been treated so harshly simply for being different. She could remember everything, and the anguish, anger, frustration, depression, everything she felt in those moments that she'd been forced to lock away because of the spell on the collar all seemed to come to the forefront of her mind and her eyes suddenly opened wide. At first all she saw was Nate's chest. He smelled like death and like something that had gotten run over and left there for a day or two to rot. All the pain registered in her back from the whip lashes and she suddenly let out an agonizing scream from everything just hurting. Normally she was the simple "suffer in silence" types but even her nails hurt and she could feel the tears stinging her eyes. She would much rather be asleep, like she was before, too exhausted to get up. She didn't know what woke her up - she hadn't heard anything. She was no longer in the room of pain and by the looks of it, she was somewhere in a sewer. She took a deep breathe to steady the involuntary trembling that had overtaken her small frame as she clung to Nate, as if hoping to draw some of his life into her own soul like a greedy child. As nice as death felt - she didn't want to die. Not now and not for a while - at least not for another year or so.

Seeing a silver snake come up behind Nate, she let out another scream, this time of fear, and automatically shot her hand out, a burst of demonic energy being thrown like a bolt of lightening from her palm. It hit the snake dead on, but traveled down its length to the owner, who was shot with the energy and fell over - looking more than just a little fried. She had no idea how she did that and shock was suddenly registered on her face, though the pain was the most forefront emotion at the moment. Before she could even think twice, though, the familiar smell of the city hit her and she locked her jaw at how everything sounded so loud. She put her hands over her ears and in her head, counted backwards from one hundred in hopes she would just wake up back at her place in the woods with Nate butt naked underneath her and sleeping - before all of this happened. If she'd only not fallen asleep! They could have gone farther, could have avoided all of this, but she was so focused on getting rid of the tremendous pain circulating through her system. She felt flashes of heat hit her only to be replaced by bursts of cold. She wanted to sleep but kept being woken up by a sudden jolt or some type of sound around her. Someone was saying something but it wasn't registering with her brain. She felt someone grab her sore ankle and she freaked out, letting out another scream and shooting another bolt of demonic energy at them though she was sure she missed because she heard a loud crash. She was delusional, hanging on the staying conscious as her hands reached up and knotted into her hair with another scream of pain ripping through her. The burns felt like they were fresh, like every whip lash was coming down on her again.

Cat didn't realize it was all in her head - reliving everything that she had blocked out for the time she'd spent with those mages. She curled up into a tight ball, bringing her legs up to her chest and trying to become as small and insignificant as possible. Whatever surface she was on, it was soft. She expected concrete but she was somewhere else. Scents weren't registering correctly and she wasn't aware that her wounds were slowly healing themselves - slowly only because of how exhausted she was with fatigue hitting her hard where it hurt. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she wrapped her arms around herself, finally opening her eyes, slowly, after realizing she'd had them closed ever since she'd shot that energy at that random mage who tried to pull some sneaky thing on Nate. Fear formed whirlpools in her foggy orbs as if she mentally just wasn't there. She couldn't feel the weight of the collar around her neck which had her in a panic, remembering the one mage had managed to take it off of her. But she couldn't figure out, for the life of her, where she was. Nothing looked familiar or maybe it was just how far away her mind was that she couldn't figure it out. The whiplashes that had very nearly destroyed her entire back were starting to look ever so slightly better, closing up as she blinked and looked around but didn't move from her spot. One scent did hit her, though, and she found herself eerily calmed by it, "Nate?" her voice was barely audible, even to her own acute sense of hearing, but she'd said it, eyes frantically moving around the place from where she was to find where it was coming from.

[/div]

[Nathaniel Devlin]

The next seconds that passed seemed like an eternity to Nate as he ran inside the sewers with Catlin cradled in his arms. She felt cold and light, like what most things felt like if they were dead. He was so glad though that he had such sensitive hearing, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the barely audible beat of her heart against all the chaos of sounds that bombarded his ears. Word had officially spread of the escape, and now there were hundreds of mages literally on Nate’s tail. You’d think something like this would be cool as hell. Saving the somewhat punk-y damsel in distress, chased by hundreds of enemies though you know in the end, the hero rides off into the sunset with the girl.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t some cliché hero movie.

This was real, and Nate was scared as fuck. Not only were they one mistake away from being killed, but also from the looks of it, the punk-y damsel in distress wasn’t going to make it. She looked dead. There was nothing else to describe what she looked like. Everything was bruised, cut, or broken. The young werewolf could barely recognize her except for her platinum blonde hair, which looked dirty with sweat and ragged from abuse. It was horrible. He could barely look at her without wincing. He could blame the guy who tortured her, but he was already dead so revenge had been given already. He could blame the brunette who saved him from the quietness of death. Why the hell did she save him from that only to throw him into this hellhole? Then again, he was grateful for that. Somewhat. Then there was Cat. This was all her fault, really. What the fuck had she gotten herself into? Stupid fucking collar. She should’ve been grateful she wasn’t one of those freakish demons and left it alone. If she had, they wouldn’t have gotten into all this shit. Yes, he could blame her for everything; only he knew that it was her fault. Not really. No, it was all Nate’s fault. It had all started with him. If only he hadn’t met the blonde that night, maybe all of this wouldn’t have happened. Nate would still be in Arc City, going about his business whereas Cat would be god knows where.

Dead, maybe, a small voice spoke inside his head.

No, she wouldn’t be dead; Nate disagreed, though his mind was already convincing him otherwise. All of the events that lead to this would’ve happened whether Nate was there or not. They had been after Cat for a while it seemed, and Nate only served as bait. If he hadn’t been there, they’d have found something else to entice the blonde to come out of hiding. If Nate looked at it differently, Cat was lucky to have survived this long. That didn’t help anything though. She was dying now and there was nothing Nate could do about it. He was stuck here, running away as fast as he could towards the exit, even though he knew it would probably blocked—unless she was true to her word.

Just then a blood-curdling scream sprung out from Cat, the scream filling the sewers, blocking every other noise to the young werewolf. Though she screamed in pain, Nate felt relieved instead of worried. Yeah, she was in pain (Who wouldn’t be?), but she was alive. That had to count for something. Nate could smell her then, amidst all the shit and piss of the sewer. She was frightened. A scent Nate had never smelled from the blonde (Granted, he’d only known her a few weeks and only met her face to face twice). Nate had been so distracted by the blonde’s resurfacing from the verge of death that he didn’t notice that one of the mage’s snakes had caught up to them. Luckily, Cat did. She screamed again, her voice shrill and frightened as she held her hand up from the snake in defense. Just then, something burst out of her hand, incinerating the snake and the caster with it. “Holy shit!” Nate let out in a growl as he looked back at the fried man behind them, his pace slowing for a fraction of a second, before his golden eyes focused on Catlin. How the hell had she done that? Before he could ask, something bright blinded the young werewolf, causing him to suddenly stop.

They were finally outside.

Relief would’ve been a good emotion to feel right now, but it was the opposite. Panic came into mind more. True, the brunette had given her word. The entrance wasn’t blocked. It was broad daylight outside though and a six foot furry creature on hind legs carrying what looked like its murdered prey was bound to turn some heads—and most probably a few screams and gun fire. Nate was about to jump into the shadows of the building when he saw something. A black limousine was parked a few yards from them with the door open. Against every instinct Nate felt, he sprinted towards it, hurling himself into the limo at the same time changing back into his human form—all while still cradling the half dead blonde in his arms. Just as he slammed into the limousine’s interior, the door shut behind him. The car moved then as it pulled out of the curve and moved forward at a leisurely pace—as if nothing remotely absurd had happened a moment before.

The room inside was dark because of the heavily tinted windows though Nate could see everything inside, so he couldn’t really miss how empty it was—except for a note on the opposite seat from him. He had expected his rescuer to be present at least, though now that he thought about it she didn’t really give any indication that she would be here anyway. Neither did she give him her name, but that was another matter entirely. Instead his rescuer had given him a map of Cat’s whereabouts, halting any questions he had—for now at least.

He carefully placed Cat on the black leather seating before he leaned forward and took the note. The writing was, of course, computerized. There was no way to tell what machine was used to print the message nor any unique qualities of the paper or ink to narrow down the search of it.

‘Hello again Mr. Devlin.’

‘Please follow the instructions in the particular order stated.’

‘Knock on the driver’s partition and you will be handed clothes and a briefcase.’

‘Please dress. Keep the briefcase with you at all times. Guard it with your life.’

‘The limo driver will take you to the outskirts of the downtown district.’

‘Exit the limo and deliver the briefcase to the address given to you.’

‘Please be prompt in the delivery.’

‘You have an hour.’

Nate sighed. He could have disregarded the message and just ran away with the blonde, but he had a feeling he’d regret it—that and the fact that the whole thing made him curious. Who was powerful enough to revive someone from the dead? He hadn’t heard of anyone in Arc City who could do that. To actually revive anyway, not reanimate like what the necromancers just loved to do.

Still there was a problem with the Rescuer’s plan. (Self-named. It was lame, but it was the only thing Nate could think of to call her at the moment.) Cat was dying. Nate wouldn’t leave her until she was safe, not even if he would in turn break his agreement with Rescuer. Nate knocked on the partition though and it slid down just enough that things were dropped into the seat. They were what Nate had expected—clothes and a briefcase. Something else though poked out of the clothing as Nate picked through them. It was another letter.


‘P.S. Failure will not only ensure your death, but Ms. Holiday’s as well.’


This message was more cut and dry. Either do it or you both die. Ah crap, Nate thought as he pulled over the clothes and started to change. The clothes were clean yet worn. A faded, navy blue, hooded sweatshirt, a plain maroon tee, a pair of jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. They fit a bit loosely, but were good enough though the pants did ride low a bit. After he changed, the young werewolf took the briefcase then and examined it.

It was a plain black briefcase that had a standard four-pin lock. There was no indication of where it had possibly come from. It looked just like any other briefcase. In fact it felt light, too light, as if there was nothing in it. Weird. Cat began to stir then, breaking Nate’s thoughts on the briefcase. He leaned over her, his brown eyes on her battered face as he checked if she was indeed waking up.

“Cat?” He whispered, “You still alive?”

As soon as he said it, he wanted to bite his tongue out. Dumbest. Question. Ever.

[Catalin Holiday]

A LOT OF WORDS - NATHANIEL - I LOVE CATHANIEL AND DEATH LOL

Her normally bright, feline orbs seemed to be fogged over with her own weariness. She was repressing the urge to twitch and scream in pain as she healed herself in the slowest, most agonizing way possible - reliving every moment of it. The first person she saw was Nate and, fighting to urge to just curl up in the fetal position, did not hesitate at all to wrap her arms around his neck and embrace him tightly, her strength not at all strong - if anything a bit too weak but she was pushing herself to manage and continue with her characteristical suffer in silence moment. She only hugged him, though if she had more strength, she most definitely would have just pounced and had sex with him right there wherever they were...

Paranoia made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up or maybe it was because her wounds healing included her many number of tattoos disappearing as well, the memory of them being created happening again like a cassette being rewound in the player. But that wasn't it. Her muscles, aching, tensed up dramatically as her nose twitched and she smelled the air. Instead of becoming hostile like Cat normally did around people especially ones she didn't know, she felt eerily calm and relaxed, like the presence of whoever else was with them wasn't so much a threat but a welcoming party. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling away from Nate to see who else was in the car with them. Her foggy orbs landed on the figure in the crimson clothing and absolutely no fear entered her system. If anything, a sense of nostalgia hit her - as if she were meeting some old friend she'd been longing to see for a long time. Cat was sure she'd seen her before, in London, when she was a child and had been raped in that alleyway. She'd seen her moments before her nanny had shown up and had ended up putting that stupid infamous collar around her neck. The Latin words came out of her mouth easily and fluently, I haven't seen you in years. You look different. Was all she could really say. She never knew her name then, had no idea who she even was. Regardless, Cat found herself liking her more than despising her.

But she shook her head as if trying to clear some fog that was clogged up in her brain. Her eyes didn't leave the other woman's until she noticed the clothing in her peripheral. She wanted to move but it was already difficult enough to breathe and moving her legs weren't an option at the moment. They felt like jello. She hadn't lost control of them but she was sure if she tried to stand or move over, she would fall over. If anything, the large bruises around the thin ankles was enough to prove walking would be a painful task within itself. She grabbed the shirt, though, at only slightly faster than a snail's pace. She could see the large gashes and bruises along her arms and her wrists that looked like they were paper thin. Her skin was a disgusting pale bordering on blue which did freak her out a bit but there were more dire things to take care of. With some difficulty, she managed to get her arms through the holes and her head through the neck of the shirt. She locked her jaw tightly as a fresh waves of pain hit her whenever the shirt so much as grazed the healing marks along her back. At least the shirt was big enough. Everything else would have to wait. She was still catching her breath.

It wasn't like her to feel this vulnerable. Last time she felt this vulnerable she was five years old and crying in her mind for God to take her so she wouldn't have to endure the punishment she was enduring for reasons unknown to her. To this day, even looking back, she firmly believed it was her fault they assaulted and rapes her and that killing them both was the wisest choice she ever made in her life -even at such a young age and involuntarily. She leaned more so into Nate more so in a means of comfort and gratitude than to annoy him or show some kind of fear toward Death. Maybe it was because she had seen her before, maybe it was because she was a demon and demons always had some kind of link to all things fairly morbid, or maybe it was because her fallen angel nanny had told her Death would come for her eventually.

Cat felt her nose twitched and her eyebrows came together, "You smell like something that's been left dead for a couple of days..." she mused absently, out loud, as if she were a bit delirious. The pain had her brain feeling fuzzy but she kept tuning back in to try keep up with what was going on around her. It wasn't until now that she realized she was in a limo headed who-knew-where. Without really trying to stop the involuntary action, she felt everything inside her go on edge - not because of the company but because of the destination. Wherever they were going, it wasn't sitting well with her in her empty stomach

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