Femme Fatale

By Willow Taylor

Some people say that Shadowdancers are totally inhuman, that they can run forever, like a wolf, and hide a trail like an old panther. The roughshod bandits sure gave a good chase, scrambling over rock snow and river alike, fleeing from Asher and Angel as if they were the devil's own huntsman. From time to time, one would fall behind and their fellows would hear a sudden scream, proving that the pair were still behind them, still willing to kill. Night had fallen by the time the 'Dancers wearied, and paused to try and catch their breaths. The slender crescents of moons above their heads slid behind grey clouds casting a gloom over the mountain forest.

"Who've thought...?" one began, and choked, as a grey shadow detached itself from the night and left him choking on his own blood.

"No!" yelped another trying to bury himself in the snow and hide, a flash of silver buried itself between his shoulderblades, staining the snow in a gush.

Back to back the last two dancers faced the night, glimmer swords out and ready now.

"Damn it - never trust humans," one hissed.

"We're dead now, aren't we Slug?" asked the other in a tremulous voice.

"We're our daddy's children, Luger. We ain't gonna go without a fight."

"But they been killin' us all day Slug."

"Not all day..." Victor said, lighting up a clove a few feet away. "After all, we didn't find you till almost lunchtime."

"Bastard!" spat Slug. "Gonna stop slinkin with your little friend now?"

Angel shrugged and took a slow draw on his smoke. "We haven't been sneaking - you're the ones who attacked us, after all."

"You're a sick, sick man."

"Lookit his eyes, Slug - he likes killin' I can see it!"

"Hush Luger - you know I ain't got your eyes." Snow creaked under the 'dancer's boot and his pale blue eyes narrowed, glowing and lighting up his face in a pale, unnatural way. "You afraid to face me?"

"You're the one who's been running." Victor smiled. In a suddenly fluid movement - and brave, so Angel wasn't really expecting it - Slug whipped forward, and slashed open his shirt. the slim dark haired man managed to deflect most of the blow with his knife, but suddenly realized why there was a saying that went along the lines of "Never corner a cat or a 'Dancer." the bandit had suddenly turned into a veritable whirlwind of green-tinted steel and black claws. The only thing that he could think to do was lunge - and he got lucky - hitting Slug deep in the throat, and following through, bearing the Shadowdancer's corpse to the ground. Blood, hot and crimson bubbled up splashing him in scalding gouts.

'More blood,' scowled Victor holding the body down as it twitched, and the green glow slowly faded from the sword it dropped. Suddenly remembering the other bandit, he looked up to see Asher trying the balance on the blade the other one had been wielding.

"Don't see what he put such stock in," she said conversationally. "Lousy balance." The moons came out from their cover, as if wanting to know what happened while they couldn't see.

Victor stood up and shook blood off his hands. The blood was cooling fast, and gave of a sharp scent unlike the blood of humans or beasts. Victor's fangs slid from their sheathes in irritation, and he frowned deeper.

Asher tipped her head to the side, examining him in the faint moonlight.

"That's odd Victor."

"What?" he asked, looking down at his bloody gloves in disgust. They'd have to be washed. They'd probably never be quite as flexible again. Damn he went through a lot of gloves.

"Your forehead..." Asher said, staring. The dark haired drifter touched his forehead and felt blood. "The blood's all over it, but there's like a pattern on your forehead where it isn't."

Angel laughed. "I think it's bedtime, Asher - you've been on your feet too long. You're seeing patterns in blood like a prophet."

"Oh yeah wise one?" she laughed. "Where are we gonna sleep? We're all the way out in the middle of nowhere." Victor shrugged pulling out a bandanna and wiping his face off with it, leaving streaks of blood where he missed. Then he turned and looked out over the landscape and smiled.

"Well, I think I see some light down there," he said pointing down the mountain a bit. "We'll go there." As he turned, he thought he saw Asher shoving something in her pocket as she stood over the corpse of the bandit he'd killed. He put out his bloody gloved hand. "Come on. We'd better get going before the blood all over us freezes us solid." Asher gladly put her hand in his and they tromped off down the hill, as innocent as two children coming back from berrying.

The townsfolk didn't quite believe it at first, but as they told the story and scrubbed off the blood, they realized that it was true, and the pass was clear, these two slender drifters had cleaned out a bandit gang that had killed half the men in the village. The 'dancer jewelry that Asher pulled out to pay for her room clinched it. Victor raised an eyebrow at her when she'd produced it - it wasn1t that he didn't approve, as it had been lawful spoils of the fight - it was more a glance of 'oh, so that's what she'd been doing'. Having proved their story true, they were given free rooms, as a reward for having killed the bandits.

Late that night, lying close against Victor's chest, Asher awoke from a dream of running for her life, and looked up at her new travel companion's face. Was he the shadowy figure that had been following her in the dream - no it'd walked on four legs as easy as two - but he'd been there, she was sure. Asher swore softly to herself, then got up careful not to let the frigid air under the blankets. She spent a few moments rustling around her bags until she came up with the small package of pressed-pellet herbs. Picking up a bottle of wine left over from their private dinner, she put two pills in her mouth, and washed them down. She closed her eyes and hoped they'd work. She didn't think she could take another dream tonight.

Three days later, they headed out the southern pass. Victor talked vaguely about heading further south than these mountains. "We might even be able to reach the warmer lands before their climates not as temperate anymore."

"You're not afraid of a little cold, are you, Angel-luv?" Asher teased.

"Afraid? No. Tired to hell with, you bet your round pink ass."

"I have to stay in these mountains till I find at least one of my associates," she said thoughtfully. "But you don't know how tempting it is to think about that." It was very tempting to just say to hell with her business, stride off towards the horizon line with Angel. But she had to at least find the Doc and get another supply of those pills. The dreams were getting worse. It was safer just to dose herself at bedtime than wait until the nightmares broke her rest. Maybe, a faint thought in the back of her mind trilled, if she got far enough away the nightmares would leave her alone. But would anything she could find in the world suit her as well as the business that she had in these mountains? Probably not.

"Asher?" said Victor raising a thin, elegant eyebrow. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said flashing him the vulpine smile that he'd grown to love so much. "A mild headache, that's all - how far do you think it is to the next town?"

"Hmm..." Victor stopped and dug around in his pouch, which Asher was sure was a magic artifact, she'd seen him pull so much stuff out of, clove clasped tightly between his lips. After a moments search, he pulled out a map, and continued walking down the road as he unfolded it.

"You have a map?" Asher asked, surprised.

"Yup. Don't like being lost if I can help it." He was silent for a few moments.

"I thought big tough hunters didn't need maps," she teased.

"They do if they don't want to get lost," Victor defended blandly. "There's a small village, half a days walk that way," he said after a few moments.

"Really?" Asher asked surprised. "I thought that there weren1t any towns for miles."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Just trying to make conversation."

"Well where do you think the next village is? After all, you've been traveling these mountains longer than I have."

Asher pressed her lips together and thought, looking about, trying to gage the appearance of the mountains. "Uhm... I think Brokepass is three days travel that way," she said after a few moments. "This is werewolf territory, you see, so no one wants to settle here, except crazies." They walked on in silence for a few moments as Victor refolded the map. "I'm kind of surprised that there's a village here now."

"Hm," Victor said noncommittally. "It's been there for years."

"Really?" Asher said surprised, tucking a stray tendril of red-auburn hair behind her ear. "First I've heard of it."

"So do you want to go see it?"

"Sure, why not." She smiled at him, and Victor leaned over to give her a quick kiss. She was simply irresistible sometimes.

They had to make camp, and sleep a night before reaching the village. Victor burrowed out a hollow in the snow and lined the bottom with pine boughs, then covered it with his blankets.

"No fire?" she asked, confused. "I thought you were tired of cold."

"It'd be impractical here - besides, the locals might not like it."

Asher looked around, having not seen so much as a squirrel since midafternoon.

"Fine," she said, shaking her head. "But you'll have to somehow make it up to me for having to eat dry jerky tonight."

"Don't worry," he said with his thin sly smile. "I will."

And he did.

The next day, Asher began to realize something.

"Uhm... Angel-luve?"

"Yes?" he asked, turning to face her.

"We appear to be heading deeper into the werewolf's territory."

"Yes. That's where the village is."

"Are they MAD?" demanded Asher biting her lower lip nervously.

"It makes perfect sense," Victor said, obviously a little bit confused. Asher mirrored the confusion in her own way. "Hey look," Victor said, changing the subject. "A wolf." Asher whirled to see the brindled grey lupine disappear over the ridge.

"Are you sure it was a wolf?" she asked bluntly.

"Yup," replied her companion cheerfully, lighting a fresh clove.

"All right..." she muttered. "As long as you're sure." She didn't like this one bit. Angel had done some reckless things before - going hunting alone - that whole thing with the bandits, but this was scaring her spitless. She put a hand on the hilt of her dagger, which was forged with the highest concentration of silver it could be without degrading the steel. Silver-steele they called it - as mystic an alloy as anything that had come out of the Shadow-lord's forges, but effective against werewolves, vampires, and the odd boogeyman. But she stayed quiet as the signs of werewolf territory became more and more obvious. A howl split the cold afternoon, and she jumped a yard. Fortunately for Victor, he managed to contain his laughter. Then without even a warning crunch of snow, they were surrounded loosely by wolves. Asher yelped again and bolted. A moment later Victor was behind her half a pace, but he didn't seem worried. Suddenly they came over the rise, and saw a village - a village teeming with wolves, people, and those who looked somewhere between the two. Asher drew back shocked, putting her back against a tree.

"Victor!" she gasped. "It's not really a village."

"Looks like one to me." He shrugged. The wolves that had surrounded them came out of the woods, and looked at them expectantly. Angel strode forward unafraid towards them, their ranks opened to let him in. Then he stopped.

The werewolves gathered about him, sniffing, even the ones that were in human form. Victor stood stock still, and let them, though Asher recoiled in her hiding place at the edge of the clearing. After a few moments, they nodded and stepped back. Angel bobbed his head in greeting, and after a moment, one of the ones in human form put out a hand to clasp with him. Angel clasped it with one of his sharp thin smiles, and then glanced about for Asher. She hesitantly slipped out of her shadows. The human-shaped wolf nodded with a small smile, and said something to Victor she didn't make out.

"Asher?"

"I'll stay here, thanks," she said, divining his unspoken question. Victor1s eyebrows drew together, as the werewolves sniffed at her as well - but the sharp silver blade she held kept them at slightly more than her arm's reach.

"All right - uhm... they want to talk to me - I'll be back to you in a bit."

"Of course," Asher said dryly. "They want to 'talk' to him. How cute.2

Victor was led into the Alpha's den, a large, simply constructed house divided into two areas - a main room and a sleeping room, much smaller to conserve heat.

"You are the one called Angel," the alpha said.

"Yes. Angel Shelly, that's me," he nodded.

"Ah. Then you are the one our far kin said to kill our mother's enemies?"

"Could you repeat that without the extreme crypticness?" Angel asked with a small, put upon smile. The alpha cracked a large grin displaying vaguely lupine teeth even in his human form.

"The twisted ones?" he clarified.

"They needed killing," Angel said, shying slightly away from the memories surrounding his meeting with the twisted ones.

"We have a problem, Angel," the alpha said.

The drifter set his jaw. "Your people have done many kind things for me in the past, Alpha. Maybe I can repay the favor now."

"You misunderstand," said the alpha shaking his shaggy dark brown hair. "We already owe you more than any non-kin in our histories. It shames me to have to ask more of you now."

"There's no shame in asking for help, if you really need it."

"We do," said a tall statuesque woman, coming in from outside. Ancient man would have worshipped her - she seemed utter perfection, a walking idol. The Alpha bowed his head to her. Angel managed not to drop his jaw in abject admiration.

"My mate and seer speaks truly," the alpha nodded.

"Then tell me what the trouble is," Victor said, settling into the offered fur, and spreading his coat tails out behind him. "And make it as quick as possible - I can offer you all the help I can - but I think you make my companion nervous."

"We will send some of our human kin out to her," the tall woman said, shaking out hair as silver as an arctic wolf's pelt, as she sat down beside the Alpha. "I fear that our troubles will not be as easy to explain as all that."

Asher sat uncomfortably on the padded, carved bench the humans had brought her after she made it clear she wasn1t going into one of those... holes... they were forced to live in by the werewolves. They'd lit a small fire for her at the edge of the wolves' den place, (it wasn1t a village) where she was waiting and had brought her some perfectly normal stew, bread and mulled wine.

"Why do you stay here?" she'd asked one of the men.

"It's home."

"Don't you wan to be around other humans?" she demanded, confused.

"This is home," he'd repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Where would I go? It's all I've ever known."

"But there are places out there where you never have to see the werewolves, and certainly don't have to serve them..."

The man laughed. "Lady, it's the mother's way that we wait on them."

"Feh." Asher spat as he'd left. Then she called after him. "God made the animals to serve man, not the other way around!" He'd given no indication that he'd heard her. All the other humans that she'd spoken too had that same sort of simplistic, it's god's will aura about them. She wondered what the werewolves had done to them. She raised the mug of mulled wine to take another sip from it, then glared into the mugs depths suspiciously. What if it was in the food? Without bothering to be unobtrusive, she dumped the hot posset out onto the snow, and glared at it as it melted the crystalline white like so much steaming blood. Then from a fresh drift, she filled the mug with snow and set it down to melt. If there was something in the food, well, Doc had given her something that'd counteract most mind drugs, especially anything as primitive as these animals would use. Now if she could only she could get Victor to take them as well...

Wintersong and Memorydance told him everything. Some of the things that had happened were enough to make even his hardened stomach turn. One of their farther flung homesteads had been half razed, and in the ruins they'd found a female shifter, who was visibly in the last weeks of pregnancy, skinned. Apparently it had been done when she was alive as well - there had been nothing they could do for her, or her unborn cubs.

Memorydance, the alpha male, shook his head. "I am of the half moon," he explained. "It is my way to make peace - but were I to find them that engineered this, I'd be glad to treat them the same."

"Like for like," nodded his mate, passing Victor a bowl of savory venison stew. "And that is not the worst of it." After a few moments search she turned up a pouch which she handed to Victor. He opened it and peered inside.

"I think, Angel you can draw your own conclusion from those. We found them at another den, one with half grown cubs. The parent's bodies were found a bit later half into the woods - skinned in a heartless manner. But the cubs were not found at all."

"It is some comfort that their spirits had gone to the mother's breast before their bodies had been desecrated, Kin-Friend," the alpha male said, sighing deeply. "But what has happened to our community is not the worst of it, I fear."

Victor didn't know if he could take much worse.