~~Natasha~~
"Is it d-dead?" she asked.
Eric nodded as he dragged the spirit's body back into the alley. Still in the big wolf body, he wouldn't be able to talk, but body language was fine.
She didn't expect him to take a bite out of the tall, gangly thing. But he did. Natasha gulped as Eric ripped and tore at the humanoid in the plague mask, and gulped down a chunk of its flesh. She gulped again when Arturo did the same. She outright squeaked when Matthew, back into his huge wolf form, slipped past her, and tore at the body as well.
"Um... uh... is that edible?" She didn't understand. It made sense for a wolf spirit to eat prey spirits, but this thing was a weird spirit of human inclination and physical manifestations. Drugs, and drug abuse. A wolf wouldn't eat that, right?
Well, they weren't wolves. They were werewolves. Maybe they had stronger stomachs? They were hunters, and that role extended to hunting anything they deemed dangerous to the physical world.
Or maybe they were eating it the same way someone might eat paper with a secrete message written on it, just to destroy it. Ask later, focus now.
After a few bites each, the wolves backed off, and returned to their human forms. Eric wiped his mouth, even though there was nothing there. Art and Matt did no such thing, and laughed when they saw Eric do it.
"That was disgusting," Art said.
Eric nodded, shrugging. "Yeah, it was. I don't eat city spirits often. But after my first successful group hunt, kinda seemed like the right thing to do."
Matt nodded, smiling, but his face scrunched up a second later, obviously unhappy with the taste. "There are other ways to get essence. Eating spirits is... well, some Uratha like David do it a lot."
David, the strange fellow of the pack. The boys called him an Ithaeur, someone who talked to spirits all the time, whether they wanted to or not.
"Yeah I know. But the best way to learn is by doing, right?" Shrugging, Eric motioned ahead, and the group of them stepped back onto the curving sidewalk of the Hisil's Devil's Corner.
"Or b-by asking someone who knows more," Natasha said. "Avery knows more."
Eric rolled his eyes and slipped his hands into his blue jeans pockets. A t-shirt and jeans for him and Art and Matthew; the fashion was timeless and immortal. At least Sándor wore a dark button shirt, and dark jeans. Only Natasha wore an ensemble that cost more than a hundred dollars: a proper suit, black. Invictus habits died hard.
"Surprised to hear you say that," Art said, looking down at her.
"W-What? Why?"
The man squirmed and looked around, but no one else said anything, and he sighed.
"After everything that's happened, I figured you'd be against Avery in most things."
Natasha frowned up at Arturo with an urge to yell at him. She didn't used to get that urge, not over stuff like this.
"Just b-because... she... Just because she t-told you two to... Just... b-b-because she..." Natasha grit her teeth, looked down, and took a deep, useless breath. It was so damn hard to find the words, when every time she remembered what Arturo and Matthew did to her, she got upset. She hated not being able to steel herself like Antoinette told her to, to set emotions aside and be logical about things. But, remembering the sudden understanding that a stake stuck out from her chest, and that Arturo had staked her -- and Matthew by accessory, since he left it there -- filled her with rage.
It was so much easier in the stories. The boys had apologized to her already, and they'd meant it, and she'd accepted their apologizes. And they were now, gladly, trying to fix things. So why couldn't she let it go?
Because this wasn't a story. Real life wasn't nearly so neat and tidy. They'd hurt her. Even if what they did made sense, a little, and might have even been something she'd have done if the situation had been reversed, they'd still hurt her. It'd take time for that to heal.
"Just because," she said at last, "Avery jumped the gun d-dealing with Maria, doesn't mean she isn't smart, and wise. It d-doesn't mean she doesn't have a lot of experience, or hasn't learned a lot of things."
"Yeah." Matthew smiled down at her, a fleeting bit of eye contact announcing he recognized her thoughts. And they hurt him. "But, let's be real. Avery's a bitch."
Natasha smiled. Smile turned into a giggle when she noticed the pun, and she rolled her eyes. So did Eric. The boys laughed though, cause they were the type to think puns were hilarious. Horrible people.
Sándor looked like he was about to say something. But, predictably, he didn't, and the group kept walking.
Natasha looked around, and got her brain's cogs turning as she took in the sights of the Shadow Realm. Now that the boys had successfully helped Eric, it was Eric's turn to help them. First thing on the list: check out the new tear Avery's pack found some weeks ago.
"I've been out here," Eric said. "I didn't see anything weird."
"It's a ways out," Matt said. "Edge of the city."
Art nodded, but he didn't look happy about it. "Spirits hang out where they can find the most activity on the other side. If we left the city and went into the desert, we'd find few spirits if we jumped into the Hisil, and few loci to allow us to jump at all. It's humans, and us, mingling with each other and the environment that creates disturbances. Spirits are drawn to those, you know? So it's strange this tear is on the outskirts."
"There are other tears," Sándor said. "Some are on the edges of the city, and some are closer to the center. And some defy easy placement." Like the nightmare chambers.
The werewolves nodded. Sándor nodded.
Natasha nearly tore her hair out. "And n-none of you have t-t-t-talked to each other about them!?" The men all looked at each other, each with one or both eyebrows raised, as if what she was asking didn't make sense. Ugh, men. "W-Why not share what you know with each other? First things first, plotting all known tear locations on a map."
It took them a second, but eventually the four men got it.
"Makes sense," Art said. "We've marked them on a map already."
"As have I," Sándor said. "Mapping the nightmare realm is tricky, but there is an art to it."
"I suppose if we share what we know, we might see something we didn't see before."
Natasha nodded, and pulled out her phone. But of course it didn't work, or at least, not well, screen flickering and whatnot, and the GPS was useless. She put it away, grumbling.
It wasn't like she didn't understand them. And as much as she wanted to blame it on men being typical men, refusing to cooperate and turning everything into a competition even if it killed them, she knew that wasn't fair. Trusting someone else was almost always a bad idea when dealing with things like vampires, werewolves, nightmare monsters, and what have you. Still, it was easy to see why Antoinette got so frustrated.
They continued walking for a while. Spirits avoided them, especially now that they'd made a kill. They whispered to each other, alien creatures Natasha could only barely comprehend visually, and couldn't understand verbally. The First Tongue, according to the boys. Arrogant to think it was the first language ever spoken, but it wasn't like she could challenge it.
As they walked, Matthew and Arturo changed into wolves. Not the big, scary wolves she could have sworn came out of the Neverending Story, but normal wolves. Wolves were still utterly huge beasts, and she didn't have to crouch to pet their backs as they walked. Petting them, their fur, their warmth, she did it automatically without thinking about it. That was good, right? It felt nice, to forget about what they did, the arguments she and Art were getting into lately, and just touch them again.
She smiled down at Matthew, and scratched behind his ears. Big, deep scratches, complete with some fingernails. He struggled to keep walking, wanting to stop and enjoy it, but he compromised by leaning his side into her. She did the same for Arturo, and the huge wolf let his tongue dangle as he panted joy.
They walked like this for a while. It felt good, to be near them again. It felt nice.
Eric and Sándor glanced back at her, said nothing, and continued on. She thought maybe they might judge her, for being nice to Matt and Art, considering what they did, but Eric and Sándor didn't seem to have that in them. Those two would probably get along well, if it weren't for how they first met. Maybe--
Everyone stopped, and looked across the street. Natasha squinted into the darkness of another alley, and sucked in a breath as a slithering motion along the asphalt pulled into the shadow.
"Let's ignore it," Eric said. "We don't need its help."
"It?" she asked.
"Street-Tail King."
Oh. She gulped as she stared at the dark alley, and found her hand drifting to her sword hidden under her suit jacket. Darkness radiated from the alley, to the point it not only failed to conform to where the few lights hit the walls of the buildings around it, but also dripped out onto the sidewalk like oil.
Matt and Art changed back to human form again, and they both stared across the street, ready for a fight.
"We haven't talked to it," Art said, "since it talked to us last time. You were there, Natasha, Eric."
She was there, and she'd been thoroughly disturbed by it. She wasn't a werewolf, or a spirit animal or anything like that, but she could still feel how disturbing a creature Street-Tail King was. Not as powerful as Red Tide and Black Blood, but conniving and scheming. Manipulative, and smart. It'd have made a good Kindred.
"Maybe... m-maybe we should."
The four men looked at her.
"You--" Matt opened his mouth, but silenced himself. Wincing, he looked down before looking to Art for help. Of course, Art could only do the same, wince and squirm. They were bound, and had to do whatever she said.
But she wasn't so stupid she'd ignore their advice.
"I'll do it," Eric said.
Art shook his head. "It'll offer the same deal as last time."
"That's fine."
Natasha shook her head this time. "J-Jessy won't like you... getting involved like that."
