tagNonHumanFondest Dreams Ch. 08

Fondest Dreams Ch. 08

bylilgirlsix©

Written by lilgirlsix and Archangel_M

Edited by Doctime

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lilgirlsix: All I have to say is: "Vengeance is Mine, and recompense, against the time when their foot shall slip; for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that are to come upon them shall make haste." (Deuteronomy 32:35)

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Archangel_M: I really, really can't stand the Metzgers. Does it show? ^_^

The first scene notwithstanding, the music suggestion for this chapter is "I Love You Always Forever" by Donna Lewis.

Listen after you read the first part, m'kay? :P

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Glossary:

- Berghütte -- German -- mountain cabin

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{Language Note: Hungarian dialogue is in plaintext, <and German dialogue is in carrots.> Thanks once again to Fräulein Anne for her help with the German!}

October 11, 1858

Rudolf Metzger hummed to himself as he strolled down the carpeted corridor to his study. The situation in Hungary was well in hand, his idiot cousin Niklas was packed off safely to America, and he had just been serviced by a truly exquisite little bitch. He felt strong, secure, and very much a male right now. He was so absorbed in himself that he didn't think it odd that his office door was open. He breezed right through.

The door slammed shut behind Rudolf with a sound like a thunderclap.

The Head of the Were Council jumped and whirled around, only to be seized roughly by the throat. Before he could blink, he felt the bite of a hypodermic needle being stuck into his neck. Rudolf couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see his assailant—a horribly bright light was shining straight into his eyes. The metal of the syringe twinkled in his peripheral vision, and the bolus of fluid it shot into his jugular vein burned horribly.

His unknown attacker yanked the needle free and tossed Rudolf away with incredible force. The impact with the floor knocked the breath from his lungs, and he skidded across the polished wood until his head hit the massive mahogany desk, stopping him.

In less than a minute, Rudolf Metzger had been transformed from master of the universe to terrified pup. His attacker was just a menacing silhouette, standing between him and the door. Two floating globes of light kept Rudolf from seeing his face, and he was probably too disoriented in any case. The figure stood straight, hands behind—his?—back. Waiting.

<Enough of this,> Rudolf thought after a moment, gathering his thoughts. Yes, he had been taken by surprise, but he was an alpha wolf, and he would not be intimidated. Especially not here, in his own office! Calling on his wolf, Rudolf willed himself to shift so he could rip this impudent fool to shreds.

Nothing happened.

He couldn't shift! Fright and surprise returned to Rudolf's mind, and were quickly succeeded by full-blown panic. Before he could think what to do, the mysterious intruder unclasped his hands and strode towards the supine Were, reaching down to grab him again. Even through the bright lights, there was a horrible efficiency and grace visible in the way the male moved, and it frightened the Were to his bones. Rudolf kicked out with all his might and grabbed at the male's hand, desperate to keep this terrifying person away from him.

The scary man was unimpressed by Rudolf's kick into his shin. In reply, he pinned Rudolf's ankle to the floor with his hobnailed boot and punched him squarely in the face. Rudolf cried out in pain and redoubled his frantic efforts, trying to squirm away as he flailed his hands in his assailant's general direction. The male seized Rudolf by his throat once more and squeezed hard. When Rudolf continued to struggle, he raised his free hand and punched the Council Leader in the face once more. He continued punching until his victim went limp, conceding defeat.

Lifting the dazed and bruised Were by his neck, the male seated him forcefully in the straight-backed wooden chair Rudolf kept in front of his desk for visitors. He yanked Rudolf's arms between the slats and clapped a pair of prisoner's cuffs on his wrists, locking him in place. Then he waited until Rudolf's mind cleared and his eyes focused.

When he came back to himself, Rudolf saw the scary man towering over him. Those damnable floating lights still obscured the male's face and hurt Rudolf's eyes. His head was pounding, and he wasn't strong enough in his human form to break the steel handcuffs. His captor waited another minute, allowing the full reality of the proud Were's predicament to sink in.

Then he spoke: "<Where is he?>" The voice was low, menacing, and clearly unnatural. Rudolf knew enough about magic to recognize the distortion as a mage's trick—as were those bloody lights, he realized.

If he was a mage, then he was most likely human. And no mere human would ever get the better of Rudolf Metzger! "<Where is who?>" the Were spat back at his captor, setting his features in the arrogant mien he always used when speaking to his inferiors. A powerful fist slammed into his right ear, making him see stars.

"<WHERE IS HE?!!>" the mystery man bellowed into Rudolf's face.

"<W—where is wh—who?>" Rudolf gasped, trying to fight past the ringing in his ears.

"<Do not play dumb, Hund. Where is the Were who murdered the Vlkolak Alpha's daughter a fortnight past?!>"

"<I do not—>"

The point of a very shiny dagger at his throat stilled Rudolf's reflexive protest. "<Scheißdreck. I have tracked him to this building, to this very room. The Were I seek came to see you, and you will tell me where he went. NOW.>"

"<Do you have the slightest idea who you are speaking to?>" Rudolf ground out, trying to lock eyes with the human through the glare of the lights. If he could do that, he would establish dominance quickly enough.

"<Your name is Rudolf Metzger, and you are a cowardly, ignorant, self-centered little DOG,>" the stranger replied, his voice eerily calm. The dagger drew a bead of blood from the Were's throat. "<I have little enough patience for you at the best of times. Do. NOT. Piss. Me. About.>" Even through the distorting magic, the man's voice was audibly tinged with madness.

Rudolf growled, his back straightening reflexively. "<I am no dog, human! I am a wolf, and you—>"

Derisive laughter was not the reaction Rudolf had hoped for. "<You are no wolf, Herr Metzger. You have no courage, no honor, and no love for your pack. You are barely even a dog, a sad little creature who likes to bark but cannot bite. I have no patience for small, yapping dogs.>" The man's voice was now quiet and calm again, which was somehow much scarier than the madness. "<You will tell me what I wish to know. Who murdered Zsálya Kardos, and where has he gone?>"

"<All this trouble over a mere female?>" Rudolf asked, speaking out of pure incredulity. "<So what if one died? Just go find a replacement.>"

The stranger's eyes burst into blue flame, clearly visible even through the harsh light obscuring him. He was completely still for a moment, completely silent. Then he plunged his dagger hilt-deep into Rudolf's thigh.

Rudolf screamed in pain, and the bitter scent of ammonia assaulted his sensitive nose. The Council Head realized, somewhat distantly, that he had pissed himself. Then the blows came, a vicious, full-body beating of incredible savagery. It lasted many minutes, and left Rudolf slumped in the chair, weeping in pain and fear.

His captor walked slowly around behind him, 'stroking' Rudolf's dislocated right shoulder with mock gentleness. He bent down and whispered: "<Where is he?>"

Every cell in Rudolf's body was screaming at him to concede, to give the scary man what he wanted. Hells, to give the man Niklas' life story if he asked! Maybe then the pain would end! But when Rudolf opened his mouth to talk, something dark reared up from the back of his mind and stopped him. "<Away... far away!>" was all he was able to gasp.

"<WHERE?!>"

"<I—I cannot...>"

The man straightened up with a sigh. "<Have it your way...>"

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<This is getting me nowhere,> Wilhelm thought sourly half an hour later. The bruised, bleeding, whimpering figure of Rudolf Metzger, tied to the chair in front of him, should have long since passed out. Wilhelm was keeping him awake and alert with magic, though, denying the pathetic Hund the sanctuary of unconsciousness.

None of the torture should have been necessary. Wilhelm probably would have done some of it anyway, especially after Rudolf made it clear how he viewed women. However, the massive dose of curare he had shot into the bastard should have made him sing like a proverbial bird. Its lack of effect was infuriating—two days lost and over ten thousand marks spent to acquire high-quality curare, all for nothing! Curare, a compound that sent most creatures into respiratory arrest, had a very different effect upon Weres. Rather than stopping them from breathing, it merely prevented them from shifting... and also acted as a potent truth serum. Wilhelm could have simply taken some from the Order's safe-house in the city, of course, but it was important that the Order not be implicated if things went awry.

<Look at me, reduced to a common thug,> Wilhelm fumed. When the curare had clearly failed, he had beaten, cut, stabbed, and shocked Rudolf half to death, set his jaw back in place twice, all for naught. Thank goodness for aural barrier spells, or the prick's screams would have brought half the city running. He suspected that the curare actually was working, chemically speaking, since Rudolf's affect was that of a thoroughly broken subject. The look in his eyes said that he wanted to answer his tormenter's questions. Nevertheless, he wouldn't—or couldn't. How curious.

Wilhelm's cautious forays into Rudolf's mind had been repulsed by powerful mental blocks. The blocks should not have been possible for a Were to construct, and they seemed somehow dark and menacing. Examining them more closely, Wilhelm realized that, if he broke past them, they would destroy Rudolf's twisted mind from the inside out. Something, or someone, had fucked with Rudolf on a deep, dangerous level, and it clearly had no qualms about killing its pawns to preserve itself.

Considering his options, Wilhelm snarled aloud in frustration. Firstly, he could break the barriers and see what he could salvage from Rudolf's mind before it was destroyed. Low chance of success, and even a Knight-Commander of the Azure Star could not get away with effectively lobotomizing a member of the Werewolf Council. In fact, it would probably lead to war between the Order and the Werewolves of Europe. Unacceptable.

Secondly, he could continue torturing Rudolf to see if he could squeeze some tiny fragment of information from the wretch. That would be slow and tedious, and Wilhelm knew himself well enough to admit that he would probably wind up beating Rudolf to death in a fit of grief and rage if this continued much longer. As satisfying as that might be, it was equally unacceptable.

Thirdly... he could leave. But there was no trail to follow without Rudolf's information. Zsálya's killer would... go free. The very thought was like acid on Wilhelm's grieving soul. But it was the only viable alternative, especially given that Zsálya would not appreciate him starting a war. Verdammt!

Wilhelm's shoulders slumped in resignation. <Very well.> He released his hold on Rudolf's mind, and the Were fell instantly unconscious. The human unlocked the cuffs from his victim's wrists and pocketed them, then yanked his dagger out of the Were's leg and wiped it and his hands on the dog's shirt. Lastly, he grabbed Rudolf's right arm and roughly set his dislocated shoulder. Rudolf woke up just enough to scream in pain, then immediately passed out again.

Satisfied that the worthless dog would heal completely in time, Wilhelm turned his attention to ransacking the office. It took ten minutes, and produced nothing of immediate use. Some of the ledgers Wilhelm found were unclear about what exactly they recorded, but all the correspondence was banal in the extreme. He shrugged, taking a moment to memorize it all for later use.

Although he might be leaving for now, Wilhelm fully intended to tear Rudolf's pathetic little life apart in search of the murderer he was sheltering. By this time tomorrow, Herr Metzger would be the subject of a full-bore Order investigation.

<I will break you,> Wilhelm silently promised the abused figure on the floor before exiting through the window. He left behind no evidence that he had ever been there—no fingerprints, none of his own blood, not even his scent.

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October 13, 1858

One aspect of dreamwalking that Wilhelm had never considered until two weeks ago was that, for a dreamwalker, sleep offered no true respite from the waking world. He had never needed such respite before, but now he feared that the lack of it was driving him mad.

As a boy, dreams had been Wilhelm's playground, his place to be a child without the constant learning and training of his waking life. As an adolescent, the chance to think for extended periods and see into the minds of different people had given him a broader appreciation for life's depths and currents than most of his brothers and sisters in the Order. Recognizing this perceptiveness in him as he matured, his fellow Knights had called him wise and encouraged his scholarly nature. As an adult, the ability to work out his frustrations and anger in dreams had given Wilhelm a seemingly bottomless reservoir of patience, which made him an exceptional diplomat. And once he met his darling Zsálya, Wilhelm's dreams had become a wondrous place of love and joy.

Now, his dreams were a torment to his mind and a prison to his soul.

There was nowhere Wilhelm could go and nothing he could do in his dreams that did not, somehow, remind him of Zsálya. Trapped in a reality shaped by his thoughts, Wilhelm's perfect memory of Zsálya's death had taken form around him more times than he cared to contemplate. Memories of happy times with her had risen just as often, and were equally painful to look upon. Though he could banish these memories swiftly, each time they came they tore at the gaping wound in Wilhelm's heart.

He had thought himself used to the death of loved ones. It was certainly common enough for a Knight of the Azure Star. Over the years, he had lost dozens of friends and mentors, not to mention his mother and an elder sister, all to violence of one sort or another. All had made the ultimate sacrifice in the course of their duties for the Order, protecting innocents from monsters and evil magic. That solace had made their loss bearable, though never easy.

Zsálya, though... his sweet, innocent Zsálya! She had not chosen a life of danger and service. On the contrary, hers was one of the lives that Blue Stars were sworn to protect! She should not have died before her time. Wilhelm had failed her when it mattered most, and that knowledge tortured him day and night. To make matters worse, he had failed even to bring her killer to justice. His dishonor was complete and total.

These thoughts and many more swirled endlessly through Wilhelm's mind as he dreamed this night. In his despair he had dreamed up the most desolate, God-forsaken spot he knew, a tiny shelf of rock in the ocean many miles north of Thule. It was the peak of an undersea mountain, perhaps three square meters of space rising straight out of the water, constantly lashed by wind and wave. In less than a hundred years it would be worn away, but for now it offered a suitable spot for Wilhelm to be far, far away from anything and everything.

The salty spray from the waves stung Wilhelm's eyes, and the cold of the howling wind cut him to the bone. In his despair he embraced the pain, accepting it as deserved self-flagellation. Wilhelm had been sitting, shirtless and cross-legged, at the cliff's edge for hours on end, gazing out over the heaving sea and meditating upon his failures. He almost didn't hear the click of claws upon the rock behind him.

When the sound registered, Wilhelm groaned, thinking that his mind had once again conjured a memory of his beloved to torment him. He turned his head and saw the familiar lupine figure, gazing at him with her beautiful blue eyes. Too heartbroken even to sigh, Wilhelm focused his mind and thought the vision away as he had all the others.

This time, though, his little black angel did not disappear.

Wilhelm blinked and tried again, without result. He was finally going mad, he realized. For Zsálya to truly be here, in his dream world, was impossible. Probably. To be sure, he reached out to her empathically, fully expecting to find nothing.

The intensity of the hundred conflicting emotions he felt nearly knocked Wilhelm off the cliff. "Mein Gott..." he breathed. "<But... you shouldn't... you can't... oh no. No, no, no!>" His carefully honed magical senses came alive, examining the being before him in every way possible.

The wolf came near and sat on her haunches, gazing at the human while he scryed her. She seemed nervous and jumpy, uncertain what to do with herself.

Wilhelm let out a low moan; it was just as he had feared. "<Oh Zsálya... you fool...>" he murmured. Then he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the beautiful black wolf before him, nearly knocking her over with the force of his hug. "Zsálya! Meine Zsálya!" he cried, tears coursing down his cheeks.

His little angel responded instantly, howling with joy and licking Willi's face with total abandon. Her tail was wagging madly, and she pressed her furry body against his bare chest, covering him in her scent while she drank deeply of his.

Suddenly, Willi didn't feel like being on this lonely hunk of rock anymore. Without letting go for a moment, he concentrated and the world shifted around them.

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The world resolved into the inside of a large Berghütte, high in the Alps. The wooden walls glowed gently in the light of the roaring fire in the stone fireplace. The wind howled loudly outside, and the view out the windows was obscured by falling snow, but here inside the cabin it was warm and dry. The contrast made it seem even safer and cozier than it normally would.

Zsálya wasn't consciously aware of any of that, of course, but it made her happy on a subconscious level. She shifted into her human form and pulled Willi into a passionate kiss, wrapping both her arms and legs around his hard body. Zsálya moaned into her lover's mouth, giving voice to her love and her relief. She had been lost in the In-Between for what felt like years, searching for Willi and dealing with her loneliness and confusion as best she could. Now that she'd finally found him, she would not let go again.

A huge fur rug covered the floor near the fireplace, and Willi laid his beloved gently upon it, his clothes vanishing along the way. Feelings were flowing through the two like sparks from a blaze. Their bodies twined together as their minds reached out to each other, pouring out their emotions and reassuring themselves that the other was real. Willi enfolded Zsálya and her wolf in purest, most tender love, and they reciprocated with all their hearts.

While their minds were absorbed by pure emotion, their bodies were immersed in pure sensation. They were kissing, caressing, and nuzzling. Willi's cock slipped into Zsálya's pussy almost of its own accord. It was so right, so natural to make love that neither fully realized what they were doing until a simultaneous orgasm crashed over them. The young couple cried out in chorus and clung together on the soft rug, gradually coming back to themselves.

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