The Irregulars

She’s noticeably beautiful, of that there is no question. The way she carries herself, shows a body lithe and strong. Dark eyes almost onyx in depth, stare ahead clear and vigilant, and Leo can’t help but feel those eyes held a soul that could control a tempest storm. Whether this force is for better or worse is up for debate, but her very presence spreads electricity through his body.

Her focus is lasered on Dr. Watson as she walks across the room, giving no heed of Leo’s existence. Her long-tailed jacket of heavy black fabric swirls around her feet with each stride, showing off black trousers tucked into boots of black leather that sport an odd oblong bulge on the side of each tall shaft. An unassuming metal cross swings limply from her coat pocket, and a high-necked shirt of dark blue peeks out above the jacket's collar. Glimpses of metal and other elements glint on the inside of her jacket's lining, mimicking the shining array of charmed earrings on her ears, but the most interesting feature of her outfit is the gun slung at her side, peeking out at her hip as she storms towards the doctor’s desk.

And “storms” is the only way to describe her walk. Each step sends waves of rumbling energy through the room, her eyes fiery and her body coiled like an angered lioness. Having seen many shades of confidence and ways in which to silently wield authority, Leo can’t help but admire how easily this woman wields hers.

“You said you had good intel,” She spits with no preamble.

“It was,” Watson answers cooly, somehow coming off as unphased despite what his reaction to her coming had been.

“It was a load of shit. I visited each location you specified, and do you know what I found?”

Watson’s expression sours, and he levels a glare in challenge of the woman in front of him, “If you say ‘nothing,’ I would caution where you intend to stick the blame, Miss Y/l/n. Perhaps your lack of results is a reflection of your work and not of my information.”

These words must have been the wrong ones, the air in the room charging like the atmosphere during a lightning storm. The woman takes a purposeful step forward, closing the gap between the desk and herself, and leans in towards Watson, saying in a low voice, “Do not insult my integrity, you pompous prick.”

Before Watson can reply, she stands straight and continues heatedly, “You sent me on a bloody goose chase. Five graveyards with tombs and burial sights disturbed by little more than grave robbers, bad grounds keepers, and weather. There’s nothing supernatural about them at all.”

“Yet there are eye witnesses of brutal attacks nearby,” Watson’s gaze flicks to Leo, who is avidly listening to the conversation, book still open in his hands but completely forgotten. Watson’s jaw twitches, and he continues vaguely, “Ones you specialize in.”

“Funny you bring up these attacks. I’ve had a chat with a few of those eye witnesses of yours, and do you know what they told me? I think you’ll find it quite fascinating, since there’s a few details you must have missed, and certainly not ones you withheld from me.”

Watson’s fingers begin playing with his pen again as Miss Y/l/n continues.

“They said the victims were attacked by giant creatures, Watson. Friends changing before their eyes into something not quite human, but not quite animal. Huge, abominable, and…” she pauses for a moment, and with a low voice she finishes, “Wolf-like.”

Alarm bells ring in Leo’s head even though he doesn’t know what this means. All he knows is this conversation is no longer simply character slander on the part of the doctor.

Watson stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back roughly with the movement. “A new outbreak is unprecedented! A pack hasn’t been active in London for centuries.” He says sharply.

“And your first thought is to call up a Death-Keeper?” The young woman asks incredulously. “Moon-Shifters are not within our purview, and you know that!”

Leo snaps his attention to Miss Y/l/n, a surreal kind of awareness coming over him as he looks at her. He knows what she is…or in theory he does. He’s always been told the stories about Death-Keepers are fairytale fodder—an ancient cult at worst, myth or legends at best with stories spanning centuries in old tomes and various folklore anthologies.

Passages from books he’s read flood his mind, and he wonders what is fact or fiction. Is she skilled to kill in the shadows or through duel? Can she blacksmith, crafting specialized weaponry? Does she have knowledge to be an alchemist who creates elixirs and explosives? And is it true that she’s…superhuman with powers claimed through some unknown ritual?

The list goes on and seems fantastical looking at this woman in front of him. Nothing blatantly speaks to her being part of a millennia old coven of warriors vowed to protect the living from the undead. In all intents and purposes, she seems like a normal person, just like him and his friends…

But what of the implications of this woman’s existence in it of itself? If she is truly a Death-Keeper as she claims, then undead creatures exist and are a constant threat. Not to mention, supernatural monsters aren’t just created solely when there is a rip or thinning of the veil with forces twisting the minds and abilities of living humans. Her existence means there are more supernatural anomalies at work, wrecking the fabric of reality and bringing about life after death in any form possible. It is surely a fresh horror to consider.

Watson's low voice pulls Leo from his thoughts, but the doctor's counterpoint to the Keeper is quiet. Uttered so low Leo has to hastily take a step closer to catch even a few words, “—your kind knows more—than anyone else alive. You have a responsi—”

“I have no such thing,” The woman cuts Watson off harshly, not bothering to match his volume, “I am sworn to keep graves closed, not to keep dogs in their kennel.”

“Even if they begin encroaching on your duties, and the well being of those you swore to protect?” Watson argues.

Her glare darkens, and Leo sees one of her hands clench at her side as she warns, “This is the second time you’ve insulted my ability to do my job. You won't like what happens if you do it again.”

“I am merely pointing out the implications of an outbreak of this kind. It could be bad for both of us. Do you not have an obligation to such precedents?”

If she could snarl, the curl in Miss Y/l/n’s lip would have spoken volumes as she speaks with deliberate enunciation, “I. Don’t. Deal. With. Dogs.”

The two stare each other down, Watson trying to intimidate her with his glare and perhaps size, but all his opponent does is solidify like an ice soldier against the doctor’s gaze.

When it has been a few moments of tense silence, Miss Y/l/n breaks the stand off, speaking coldly, “If you’re finished trying to manipulate me to do your dirty work, I will be going.”

She turns on her heel, her jacket swirling around her legs, and sets off back towards the room's entrance.

Watson’s eyes shut and he silently groans in frustration before he sighs and calls out to the Keeper, “If you won’t do it on principle, then consider this a favor for Sherlock.”

His words stop her in her tracks. Her back is already towards the rest of the room, having almost made it to the exit. She turns her head ever so slightly allowing Leo to see a glimpse of her profile, a small frown plays around her mouth as she murmurs, “What makes you worthy to ask for a favor in his name?”

“While I suspect I will never reach the height of his accolades in your eyes, you know why I have every right to ask. I ask this as a favor to clean your debts…”

The young woman stands silently, clearly thinking the proposition over. Her fist clenches at her side again, but only Leo who is closer to her can hear her curse under her breath before turning back.

She stares at the doctor, sizing him up almost. She speaks firmly, “If I accept this favor, I enter into it of my own accord. Not as a Death-Keeper but as a friend of Sherlock. I will help deal with the nest. After, my debt will be paid. Any further responsibility in the matter will not be mine, nor any of my people’.” She pauses waiting for Watson to nod, accepting her initial terms. “You will not ask me to call upon my Keeper's form under any circumstances. Nor will you manipulate me to do your bidding…” She levels a stare at the doctor, “I am your partner in this, not your pawn. If I feel you have manipulated me, I reserve the right to change our arrangement. Do I make myself clear?”

Watson nods again, though visibly more annoyed than before.

A sense of calm determination loosens the rigidity in the young woman, and she moves towards the desk again.

“Good. Now, I reckon they’re multiplying at an alarming rate if we’ve got three witnessed changes and two other unexplained yet beastly deaths in the last cycle.”

The numbers catch Leo off guard. Normally his group knows about these kinds of things. How could they have missed something like this?

“They’ve been quiet, but signs have been showing up around the northern district for months now. There may be more than that.”

The warrior looks up, a glint in her eyes, “I’m counting on it.”

“Suddenly eager? I thought you didn’t deal with dogs?”

“I don’t. But, you know I like a good fight.”

“You were made for it,” Watson replies, but the way he says this isn’t continued banter. It silences the room in a way Leo can't quite decipher.

The Keeper’s face falls into a guarded mask, and she moves to open the map on the desk, saying quietly, “Perhaps that’s true, but don’t get any ideas about letting me do all the leg work. I still expect you to help.”

“I will help when I am able,” Watson replies casually, not looking at the young warrior as he rifles through a drawer in his desk.

The young woman’s head snaps in the doctor's direction, “This can’t be done by one person.”

“I have other responsibilities to attend to. I am a doctor.”

Cold fire stirs in the air again, but this time it feels like it’s licking against Leo’s own skin as he hears the doctor’s lame and, considering who he’s talking to, audacious attempts to sit on the sidelines. He feels her annoyance blend with his own, and he finds he cannot stay passive any longer.

Stepping forward rashly, Leo says loudly, “Perhaps I could be of assistance?”

Silence, new to any the room has had up to this point, settles thickly. Watson and Miss Y/l/n turn to look at Leo. Dr. Watson’s expression is controlled, guarded, except his eyes speak to something much deeper that is lost on Leo. Miss Y/l/n’s expression, however, is entirely flush with genuine intrigue. Eyes bright, eyebrows raised, there may even be a hint of amusement, but Leo can’t be sure.

It’s a good enough reaction to embolden him further, and Leo hastily comes even closer, rounding the couches to stand nearer the pair at the desk. “I don’t have much experience with Moon-Shifters, but I have dealt with the supernatural before. I’d be willing to lend my assistance in the matter.”

The Keeper’s black eyes flit between both of Leo’s bright azure ones, then swiftly sweep up and down his figure in a way that makes Leo feel vulnerable. Not naked, however. It isn’t a stripping assessment, more one of discernment, like she’s cataloging his physical attributes.

Then again, with the way her eyes shine as they stare into his own, she very well might be figuring out who he is as a person. He really isn’t sure if she’s reading his soul or not. It certainly felt like it.

She must have seen what she needed since her gaze softens, ending her assessment. Gracefully, she shifts to be fully facing him and bows in a seamless and courtly manner, a subtly not lost on Leo even as his heart leaps into his throat at the gesture.

“Prince Leopold,” the woman says as she straightens back up, “I’m honored.”

Leo’s eyes are wide when her onyx ones meet his, a blush blooming swiftly across his cheek bones. He’s almost speechless being outed so quickly by a woman who may just be the most beautiful and potentially most intimidating human he’s ever met.

“I’m not-you don’t have to-I’m-I’m just Leo here.”

The smallest curve of amusement reaches her lips, “So I’ve heard.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Leo murmurs, unable to swallow the awed question.

The amusement grows even stronger as she replies lightly, “The Prince of England? I don’t know many people who haven’t.”

The heat in his cheeks grows hot again with new embarrassment, but her amusement helps put him at ease, a sheepish smile coming to his own features as he replies, “Right, I reckon I walked into that answer.”

“You did,” She smiles back, “but to answer your real question. No one can muck about in the supernatural without me or my coven finding out. So two years ago, when you joined your friends and closed the rift—“

“You knew about it,” Leo finishes her thought.

She nods. “I heard about the masquerade and your encounter with blood magick too. It’s quite impressive what you’re all capable of.”

A small amount of pride sparks in Leo’s chest. “We can be something rather formidable when we are together.”

“Which is exactly what I need.”

“You need all of us?” Trepidation runs through Leo’s stomach. He hadn’t meant to enlist them all. He doesn’t even know what he signed himself up for, how could he rightfully sign all them up too?

“If you’re all willing, yes.” The Keeper says simply. Her dark eyes calmly assess his reaction.

“And if only I can help?”

“Then, Miss Y/l/n must respectfully decline,” Watson says firmly, cutting off any chance the Keeper has of answering Leo’s question herself.

“I must? What for?” Miss Y/l/n turns around to face the doctor, her tone balanced between annoyance and curiosity.

“You are not bringing an inexperienced group of teenagers into a nest.”

Leo makes a faint noise of protest in his throat and moves to voice his protestation when Miss Y/l/n holds up her hand to stop him.

“Surely you’re kidding? They’re all legally adults. He’s almost 20.”

“You know better than anyone—” Watson starts to argue.

“Exactly, you said it yourself, my coven knows Lycans better than anyone else alive.” The Keeper cuts him off, speaking evenly over his words. “Do you really believe I’d be that reckless?“

“Did you just say Lycans?” Leo butts in, breaking all manners as his understanding of the world shifts for the second time tonight. It’s the first time they’ve used a term he was familiar with, and now moon-shifter makes too much sense. “As in werewolves?”

Miss Y/l/n turns to Leo, a sad, soft look coming to her eyes as she takes in his expression, no doubt reading the overwhelmed and confused feelings written all over his face.

She nods, “Yes. We mean werewolves.”

“They exist,” Leo says dazed, still trying to wrap his head around it. His world is growing larger by the minute and it’s not exactly for the better.

“Unfortunately, yes. And they are true beasts, just as you have read. Give or take a handful of inaccuracies.”

“Which is why I think it best if you and I deal with the issue at hand ourselves, Miss Y/l/n.” Watson interjects, circling back to the problem they were just discussing.

“You mean, I deal with it while you claim to be doing your part by handling the logistics?” Miss Y/l/n quips back instantly.

Watson glowers at her.

“I know how you work, Watson.”

“Then you should know not to push me much further,” Watson warns, “You will not get him or his friends involved. End of discussion.”

“I beg your pardon, Dr. Watson,” Leo starts, speaking up, “I believe my friends and I have the final say in this.”

There’s a pause, and Miss Y/l/n glances at Leo from the corner of her eye, again her black irises scan him with assessing interest. This time, Leo feels sure her end result is positive with something akin to impressed respect settling into her features.

“That seems fair. Don’t you think, Watson?” She remarks.

“Only if you disregard everything I’ve said.”

“You know I do,” Miss Y/l/n says simply as if the doctor should have known this all along.

His answer, as it has been often tonight, is a glare in return.

When he still hasn’t said anything, Miss Y/l/n, sighs, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “I will train them personally. We have at least 36 hours until it is necessary to seek the nest out. That should give us plenty of time to teach the basics.”

In unison, both Leo and Dr. Watson speak.

“We can do that.”

“No.”

The Keeper’s annoyance flares to the surface for the umpteenth time tonight, but Leo beats her to a retaliation again.

“What makes this different from all the other times you have asked for our help?” He starts, squaring off against the larger man, “We may be inexperienced with moon-shifters, but we were inexperienced in all things supernatural the first time you called upon us to help, and we knew nothing of blood magick, nor did we know how to handle curses that woman cast upon the guests at the ball. Each of those times you let us go without a second thought. Why hesitate now?”

Watson looks at the young man with a deep emotion Leo can’t read. It burns in his eyes as if the doctor can’t keep his impassive face masked over the emotions burgeoning in his heart. His jaw twitches, but when he looks away shuffling his papers again, the young woman standing next to Leo hums in a low understanding tone.

“You’ve actually grown to care for them,” She murmurs, “Haven't you?”

Surprise floods Leo’s system as he looks at the proud man in front of him.

Watson throws him a furtive glance before moving his gaze back to his desk, muttering, “I made a promise.”

“To protect Beatrice and Jessica, no doubt, but what of the rest of them?” Miss Y/l/n asks. It’s a leading question, but Watson does not even have to reply for the other two to know his answer.

Leo is at a loss for words. His own feelings at the situation fluctuate between fuzzy and warm to uncertainty and discomfort at seeing this man, who’s been a side line mentor for the five of them for the last two years, be clearly uncomfortable with his own set of emotions.

Miss Y/l/n, steps up to the desk, and reaches over to place a hand on the Doctor’s which has been shuffling through a file distractedly trying to find a specific page. His motions still, but he doesn’t look at the woman.

“John, look at me,” The young woman commands softly, a gentleness and sincerity in her voice she had yet to use tonight.

Watson sighs heavily but looks up, meeting Miss Y/l/n’s dark eyes.

“I promise you. I will take care of each one that chooses to join me. You have my word as a Death-Keeper…and as a friend.”

It takes a moment for Watson to answer, his eyes searching hers. Finally he utters his consent.

“Fine, but their lives will be on your debt.”

Miss Y/l/n bows her head, “Understood and accepted.”

She turns towards Leo, who’s still a little word-lost, and a swift change of demeanor takes over her whole being. A devilishly excited smile grows on her face, and her onyx eyes spark with life.

She reaches out and grabs Leo’s hand, tugging on it as she turns to leave the room with gusto.

“Come on, Prince. We have a lot of work to do.”

—

“Werewolves are real. They're actually real.”

Billy rolls his eyes, “Yes, Spike. For the third time, werewolves are real.”

“Oh, excuse me for not liking the news that werewolves exist and walk amongst us.” Spike bites back.

“No one likes it, Spike,” Bea interjects from the front of the group.

They were walking at the dead of night, street lamps barely cutting through the fog weighing heavily on the streets. Miss Y/l/n (or Y/n as they’d found out through the long explanation for what Leo was doing in the city and what he was doing with a stranger in their basement) was the leader of the group, walking swiftly and confidently through the streets, her jacket kicking and swirling around her feet just like the fog with every sure boot fall. The lack of visibility seems to barely phase her, her dark irises scanning the world around her with a precision that each person in the little group can only guess at. All of them expect it to be within lethal limits if a shady character were to try something with them, but something in the way she walks tells them more senses than sight engage her focus.

“What exactly does a Death-Keeper do?” Jessie asks close to Leo and Y/n.

“We protect the living from the undead,” Y/n answers almost off-handedly as she turns sharply into an unassuming alley, narrowing the group into single file.

“I get that part, but what does that mean? Do you watch graveyards and jump on anything that comes out of the ground?” Jessie says a bit louder now that she’s farther away from Y/n.

“Lord, I wish it were that easy,” Y/n chuckles. “There’s more than just grave-risers.”

“Such as?” Leo asks, curiosity now peeked, albeit a bit warily.

“Banshees, poltergeists, white ladies, ghosts of many varieties, reanimated corpses that come from more than fresh graves, to name a few. Bodies from morgues and the water are really my least favorite to deal with…” She answers casually.

“Jesus…” Spike murmurs, his expression showing that he’s feeling a bit green.

“How do you handle them?” Jessie asks.

Y/n stops in front of an archway, a trickling fountain of potable water next to her. She turns to look at Jessie, assessing the young girl.

A small smile of respect curls her lips as she speaks, “Some answers you seek take years of training to understand, but fire is the surest way to kill most undead. Just be careful not to light one that will kill you too.”

Sparks come to life at her side, making the group jump. With a mischievous grin, Y/n grabs a black iron torch at the side of the archway and lights it easily with the fire in her hands. She pockets something silver, and turns again, leading the group through the archway, and down some stairs.

A dark circular room with multiple tunnels leading in different directions comes into view with the torch’s light.

A soft woah is heard through the group as they look at the high vault ceilings with its mixture of ancient Latin and Norse runes carved over each tunnel entrance. None of them knew this existed below the city.

“Protection?” Leo asks, referring to a cluster of runes he vaguely remembers learning about in a book once.

Y/n looks where he’s pointing and nods, “Yes, of a sort. You know ancient runes?”

“Not really. I’m better with ancient Latin.”

“Ah, then tell me, Prince. Which way should we go?”

Leo looks around at the various tunnels marked with ancient Latin over each entrance way and reads Cordis Bestia, Flumina Inferorum, Circulus Ignis, and Vincula. They’re all similar to riddles, surely not meaning exactly what they say, but which seemed most likely to hold the coven.

“I believe we should go towards the heart of the beast,” He answers after a moment.

An approving look finds its way across the Keeper’s face, “Insightful, I like it.”

The chuffed look on Leo’s face as he watches Y/n walk through the tunnel he’d chosen, gets a snicker from Spike.

“What?” He asks confused as Billy and Bea take up the same teasing smile as Spike.

“Nothing,” Spike says, trying to smother his smirk into a straight face, “just glad you made another friend.”

“Yeah, quite a pretty one too,” Billy says quietly, causing Bea to finally giggle too.

Leo balks, “No, she’s not! I mean, she is but, I just—“

“Don’t worry, Leo,” Jessie chimes in, looking at Leo from over her shoulder, “I see it too.”

She smiles knowingly and follows after Y/n.

Her response knocks the smirk off Spike’s face replacing it with a sort of bafflement. He stands there staring at Jessie’s retreating figure before shaking his head out of his daze and jogging to catch up.

“Wait, Jess!”

Bea and Billy follow him, whispering to each other and laughing. They leave Leo a bit flustered on his own and rushing to catch up.

After 10 minutes and countless turns that the group is sure they’d never remember how to get out again, their group comes across a large, heavy set wooden door. It’s nondescript, no sighs or visible runes or titles telling them this door is the entrance to somewhere so important. Its only prominent feature is its knocker. It's in the shape of a lion clutching a ring in its powerful jaws. Y/n grabs the large cast iron ring and hits the knocker 3 times.

Suddenly, the eyes of the lion open, revealing large crystal orbs. A male voice drifts through the door, “Visitors…Really, Y/n/n?”

Y/n rolls her eyes good naturedly, “Yes, Danny. Visitors. I’ve been charged with training them.”

“By who?”

“Let’s just say it’s a debt…” she pauses for a moment then breathes out the last part, “the important kind.”

Danny, whoever he is, makes a noise in understanding, and there’s a series of clicks happening behind the door until the door handle finally turns. The door opens revealing a similarly old tunnel as the one they’d just come through. This one is ornately created with vaulted ceilings and torches dotting along the way until it turns into a T, jutting off to either side.

“Casia will have your head if this goes south,” Danny says rounding the corner. He’s a dark skinned man with keen black eyes, and short cropped hair, maybe 25 years in age. He towers over most, being 6’ 5”, and is built like a carpenter with solid arm muscles, broad shoulders and biceps that can be seen through his rather proper clothing. He sports a blue vest with silver buttons and a white button up rolled to the elbows which hides all but the edges of an arm tattoo. Much like Y/n, he holsters a gun, two in fact, a revolver at each hip, but he isn’t discreet about any of his weapons. On his person are three daggers, visibly sheathed and easily accessible.

“Believe me, training them is the least of my issues when it comes to Casia,” Y/n replies dryly.

His dark skin makes the smile on his face bright. A low chuckle leaves him, “What kind of mess have you made for yourself now, Y/n/n.”

“Why do you say it like it’s my fault?” Y/n quips back affronted.

Rather than answering, Danny looks at the group behind her, “She enlisted you lot to help her, right?”

“Do not answer that!” Y/n says quickly when Spike opens his mouth to answer.

“Ah ha! See? You won’t even let them speak. Perhaps they’ll incriminate you?” Danny says leaning down to rub the smug look on his face into hers.

Y/n stares back unimpressed, warning, “Just leave it alone, Danny.”

He grows serious, catching something in her tone, “What fight are you readying for?”

“I’m not going to tell you. I would like to give you plausible deniability,” Y/n says lightly, giving a non-answer as she turns and heads up the hallway. She gestures for the others to follow.

Danny doesn’t take her offer, pushing on as he follows at her side. “What are you training them to fight? Anything in particular?”

Y/n doesn’t answer, taking a right at the T and starting down the hallway that heads deeper underground with its sloping floor.

Danny tries another angle. “Whose debt are you paying?”

“Daniel,” Y/n voice dips low in warning again, “stop it.”

“Soror mi…” Danny murmurs in ancient Latin, concern clear in his voice now as he reaches his hand out to touch Y/n’s shoulder. “Answer me.”

“I’m trying to protect you!” She snaps, stopping just outside a dark wooden door. Danny stands tall in front of her and folds his arms like a parent might when lashing out isn’t called for.

Y/n deflates immediately, rubbing her forehead, “I’m sorry…I just…Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” Danny says simply. “If I’m going to be of any help to you, I’ll need to know what you’re going up against.”

“You’d be risking Casia’s wrath, perhaps more. You really want to do that for me?”

“For you, little sis? Why do you even have to ask?” He smiles in answer.

Y/n takes a deep breath, ready to answer her friend. “We’re fighting Lycans.”

Danny’s dark eyes grow like saucers, his mood souring immediately.

“Lycans!?” He hisses in angry exasperation. “Dammit Y/n/n! Why is nothing ever easy with—“ He breaks off and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before muttering angrily, “We’ll talk about this later.”

Without another word, he pushes open the door they’re stopped at aggressively and storms off, leaving Y/n to turn awkwardly towards the group and usher them into what looks like a large store room. On each wall is just about every firearm the other five could ever dream of, that includes Leo who has been shown a number of specialty items when traveling abroad two summers ago.

Clearing her throat, Y/n speaks from behind them as she shuts the door, “Welcome to the first of many training rooms. This one is primarily used for ballistics and target practice, which is how we will begin our training.”

Danny comes out of a door on the other end of the room, carrying a number of quivers in his arms with different arrows in each.

“Is Heph here?” Y/n calls out, moving past the group towards one of the weapon walls.

“Not tonight. Hephaestus is out dealing with something in the docks. Won't be back till morning.” Danny answers coming closer to the group.

“Good,” Y/n says, relief evident in her voice.

“Hephaestus? As in the Greek god that makes Zues’ lightning bolts?” Bea asks curiously.

Danny’s low chuckle rumbles in the air as he answers Bea, “Yes, but there are no real gods or demigods here.”

“Ironically, however, Heph is the one in charge of our armory.” Y/n adds casually while taking down a hefty crossbow from the wall. “Do any of you have target practice under your belts?”

She’s met with silent shakes of the head from everyone, even Leo.

Raising a dubious brow in his direction, Leo bows his head in reluctant acknowledgment to her unspoken question. “I was deemed too frail as a child to do any practices that seemed too physical.”

“Even target practice?”

“Even target practice.”

“Wow, how spectacularly dull,” She muses softly, “No wonder you know how to read ancient runes. I’d have sought after books as well.”

“They were my escape,” Leo agrees lightly. His life over the last year, almost two, has changed so completely that he doesn’t look at his lifelong love of reading as purely coping anymore but rather a strength amongst his weaknesses. “Now they are an asset.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” She smiles, then addresses the group as a whole again. “I assume none of you have sword training either?”

A resounding no.

“What about hand to hand combat?”

“Billy does fight rings for money,” Jessie says.

“Jessie!” Billy hisses.

“What? It’s true. You’re a good fighter.”

“He’s the best fighter out of all of us,” Bea agrees.

Y/n nods in acknowledgement, eyebrows furrowing as she looks over the group. Leo feels the familiar gaze of her onyx eyes assessing each and every part of him and his friends.

When she speaks again, there’s command in her voice, and she’s doing that thing with her body that lets authority flood the room. Leo wonders if this may be a relatively subconscious skill of hers, seeing as his friends don’t need corralling at the moment.

“Right. We’ll do target practice, first. The farther away you all can be from our adversaries the better. If we have time we’ll do knife training and hand to hand combat basics.

“Spike, take this crossbow. Bea take the other one there. The rest of you, choose between a pistol and a revolver. I’m not teaching you the big guns today. Danny, I’d leave now if you want no part in this.”

Danny, who's been silently watching behind the group like a sentinel, walks up and past Y/n giving her a pointed stare as he reaches for a crank on the wall and starts turning it. A wall of metal begins to move upwards, loud and scrapping as it reveals a long hall with multiple target options. There are wooden dummies, stone busts, wooden target rings, various hoops, and a few boards with characters painted on them for full body shots.

“Choose your targets once you’ve gotten your weapon,” Danny commands the five all standing and looking at the weapons wall.

Bea and Spike hold their crossbows by their side as they point to the pistols they want to see fired. Morbidly, Leo feels a bit like a kid in a candy story as he takes in the expertly made guns. He’s never been allowed to so much as hold a bow and arrow for someone else, and now he gets a chance to fire his own gun? He takes down a simple pistol with no beautification or pomp and circumstance, just simple elegant lines of excellent craftsmanship.

Jessie picks a small pocket sized revolver with an ivory handle, while Billy chooses a large revolver with a heavy silver handle.

He and Spike talk over it in quiet animated whispers and Billy mimes clocking a person on the head with the handle, making Spike laugh. Still chuckling, they join the rest, walking up to the target hall and finding a target they’re relatively comfortable with.

As they stand there, waiting for further instructions, a type of nervousness ripples through their little group. They look at each other, showing their anxiety silently through their stares. Leo, now holding a gun in his hand for the first time ever, can’t help but feel his excitement slowly dying as he considers using it on anything beyond the wooden target in front of him.

He looks to Y/n, wondering how this training will go and finds her nodding to Danny. As if she had given him permission, he steps forward, bringing the room's focus to himself.

“Shooting a gun is not a simple task of hitting your target. It is not about the kill shot, or about finishing a job. Think that way, and the gun will control you.”

He walks up next to Bea who’s in the middle of the line and takes out one of his revolvers. “Learn to respect what you're capable of with a gun—“

He raises his hands and fires a shot, “the power you wield—”

His fingers squeeze the trigger again, “and you’ll find peace with the weapon you carry.”

In rapid succession he lets off the last three shots in his barrel aiming at different targets for each one. Wood splinters and marble busts crack with his deadly accuracy. “That’s when it will become an extension of you.”

A high pitched whistle trills in the air, and a metal clunk is heard to their right. They all snap their eyes in its direction watching Y/n release a lever. And like a tennis match, they snap back to Danny when they hear the soft click of his second revolver. He carries a calm focus as he aims at the first clay pigeon that flies through the air, shattering it with his first shot. He empties his barrel one by one as more pigeons flood the air, hitting each one directly.

Then, as if nothing had just happened, Danny places his guns on the counter in front of him and turns to speak to Bea and Spike who are to his left, “The same philosophy goes for a crossbow or any weapon for that matter. Reloading, aim, delivery are a bit different to be sure, but the same applies. Respect the weapon and you’ll learn to control it. Hopefully, you will understand what I mean by the end of the night. I’ll help you get acquainted with your crossbows while Y/n helps the rest figure out their pieces.”

On queue, Y/n walks up to Billy and Jessie. Both of them having chosen revolvers, she begins teaching them about their firearms. Once she has set them free with extra ammo between them, she comes closer to Leo.

“I like your choice,” she says, holding out her hand for his pistol. “It’s much like the one I use, but I’m not sure I want you using it.”

“Why?” Leo asks evenly, his guard half way up already as he figures she’s about to say he should sit this out completely like he has always been told.

“Because it only fires one shot,” she answers looking up from the gun, her dark eyes sincere as she explains. “Of course it packs a punch, but I need you to be able to fire rapidly and consecutively for your best chance at safety.”

“Oh…I guess I hadn’t considered that,” Leo says softly. “I’ll go pick a revolver then.”

“If you don’t mind, I chose one for you. I think you’ll like it.” Y/n reaches into her pocket and pulls out a revolver. It’s a bit larger than Jessie’s but not by much. It has silver iron for its metal portions with a dark wooden hilt. At the base of the hilt, facing out on both sides is a lion’s head outlined in silver ingot. It’s understated, yet finally done.

Taking the revolver in his own hands, Leo clicks the hammer down and raises the gun, aiming like she’d told the other two how, and fires. The bullet hits the left lower quadrant. He fires two more times and over compensates for the aim each time.

“Breath, Prince,” Y/n murmurs, coming in closer. “I don’t think you’ve taken a single breath since you started firing.”

She’s right, Leo realizes, and he lowers the gun taking a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. Guns really aren’t my thing, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s your first time holding a gun, let alone firing one. But if it makes you feel better, I hate guns too.”

“Is that why you use a single shot pistol?”

“It’s one of the reasons, yes. I like to use it as either my last resort or as a thinning shot at the very beginning.”

“But isn’t it safest to have many shots in case the first fails?”

“Of course, but I tend to gravitate towards the fray. It’s just in my nature to do so, and guns are a bit awkward in close combat.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be good at that either,” Leo admits.

“Please, you’ve fired three shots,” Y/n replies, “Let’s focus on this, and worry about the other stuff when it comes. Neither of which I believe you will fail at. Perfection is not the aim here, Prince. Only survival. Now, raise your gun and aim.”

Leo does as he’s told, taking a deep breath and pulling the hammer back. While he lines up the notches, he feels her hands meet his back and forearm. A flush runs across his cheeks and his breath hitches at the contact.

Gently her hands push him into a stronger position, he hears her quietly chuckle so close to him, “You need to remember to breathe.”

He glances to where she is, and his blush spreads past his cheeks, his whole face feeling warm now.

“I—“ He utters, not knowing where the sentence is supposed to go.

She’s so close, her onyx colored eyes dancing with amusement and her lips curling into a grin as she meets his gaze.

“The targets that way.” She says, her voice soft and full of warmth as she nods towards the firing range.

When he doesn’t look, her hand comes up and cups his cheek, her thumb gently rounding his chin. Leo can feel his heart stop in his chest, and like putty, he lets her turn his head away from her, positioning his gaze almost perfectly for the sights to line up in his gun.

“Right, got it,” He whispers, and regrettably her hands slip away from his body.

Taking a deep breath, he fires three times, emptying his clip. Each shot creates a triangle pattern closer to the bullseye than before, with one shot hitting dead center.

“Very Good, Prince,” Y/n says. Leo looks at her and finds her beaming. His own lips mirror the smile instantly.

“Now, do it again. I’ll be over here with Billy and Jessie if you need anything.”

Encouraged by her enthusiasm, Leo promptly complies, loading his barrel again and continuing.

Soon, it seems as though everyone has forgotten they might use these on anything other than wooden dummies. The group is enjoying themselves, teasing each other, and competitions get started. They learn that Jessie and Spike have the most natural aim and ability, but Bea has the best reaction time. But even with the new found fun, the reason for being here at all must sneak back into the forefront of their minds as Jessie puts down her gun and turns to ask over the noise, “Will we actually need to use these?”

The other four stop firing as well to listen to the answer. Expressions of worry, guilt, and other emotions that come with the territory of firearms come over each of their faces.

“Yeah, we want to stop this werewolf thing, but we don’t want to kill anyone,” Adds Billy.

Danny and Y/n share a look.

“We never want to kill anyone either,” Y/n begins honestly, meeting each individual gaze, “But moon-shifters…they’re not like your storybooks. They were once men, yes, but after the first full moon, they will always be lycans.”

“Isn’t that the point of the curse, changing every full moon?” Asks Bea.

Y/n shakes her head, “They change only once. On their first full moon they shift into their beast form and kill and mame for a night, and then they go into hibernation until the next full moon when they seek flesh again. Never to change back, never to be men again.”

“Is there not a cure?” Jessie asks.

“I certainly wish there were,” Y/n says softly, “much like zombies—and other undead for that matter—they are changed for eternity. Never to see their souls again. What we kill in those caves aren’t…humans anymore.”

“How can you be sure?” Spike asks from his spot farthest down the lane.

Danny answers this time, “No soul has ever been detected. Even by an ipsissimus, a person capable of—.”

“We know what an ipsissimus is,” Bea interjects, glancing at Jessie.

Danny nods, gaze lingering on Jessie too before continuing, “It is hard to believe, I know. Especially when you lot have dealt with the supernatural almost completely in the realms of possession and manipulation. But the creation of moon-shifters—it uses different…how do I say this? Magick than what you’re used to.”

“Magick that kills or expels souls from the body?” Leo clarifies.

“Yes,” Danny answers.

“So you’re saying that we’ll be fighting monsters, not warped humans?” Billy ask.

“Exactly,” Y/n affirms. “We have thousands of books and other reading materials on the matter spanning countless cultures and time periods to explain it all if you’d like me to show you our library at some point.”

Billy shakes his head, the offer unnecessary, but Leo, without a second thought accepts. “I would like that very much,”

The smallest grin curls the edges of Y/n’s lips, but it falls into a face of unease. “I’m not sure how to reassure you that these creatures are no longer human. I only hope you can trust us.”

“We do,” Bea answers, and the two of them share a brief moment of appreciated respect.

“Right…Well, none of you will be the best marksmen overnight,” Y/n says, changing the topic. “That being said, I’m fairly impressed where you’re all at being novices. I want this to be the only skill you need, but I know I’d be failing you all if I didn’t teach you how to defend yourselves in hand to hand as well…”

Y/n’s voice trails off as she watches Spike try to stifle a yawn but fail miserably, his body being taken over by it completely. She rolls her eyes good naturedly as his yawn passes through all five of them.

“I guess we have been training a while. It’s well past midnight. We can do more tomorrow after you all sleep.”

“Do we have that long?” Bea asks.

“We have until tomorrow night.”

“What about Hephy?” Spike says, lazily gesturing to the whole training room while yawning again.

“By the morning, he won’t be our biggest worry,” Danny pipes up from where he’s cranking down the metal curtain. “But word to the wise? Don’t let him catch you calling him that.”

Spike's eyebrows shoot up and he nods quickly.

“Don’t freak him out, Danny. Heph is actually a gentle giant.”

“A misnomer there too,” Danny cuts her off, “Man’s tall to be fair, but a beanstalk in the heft department.”

“Come on, Dan. There’s more than one kind of giant. He invents and crafts weaponry with the best. He is the best really. Could mess you up without even touching you—Never would, of course!” She clarifies quickly, then giggles as she thinks of her comrade, “But… boy does he hate the nickname ‘Hephy’.”

Leaving a truly unsure Spike of whether or not Hephaestus would kill him over a nickname, Y/n turns and waves the group over as she heads for the door. “Come on, I’ll show you all where you can stay tonight.”

She leads them to a long narrow bunker made from dark brick with a high barrel ceiling. Inset into the walls are 6 bunk beds. Bare mattresses with pillows and soft blue curtains fill the alcoves. An iron stove makes its home at the far end, and Y/n quickly walks to it and sets about making a fire inside as Danny comes in with a mountain of blankets to hand out.

Once he’s done with that and the fire is lit, Danny bids them all Goodnight, leaving swiftly. Y/n, however, stays.

“If the fire runs out, there’s more wood in the hallway, feel free to use it. I’ll leave one of my lighters.” She hands Leo the lighter still in her hands and turns to survey the bunks and other supplies she’s left them with for the night. “Do you need more blankets or will this be alright for you all?”

“This is enough, thank you,” Bea answers, flinging a blanket up above to Jessie’s bed.

“Right.” Y/n nods and looks as though she means to leave, but she hesitates.

“I feel a bit like I threw you into this,” She says, looking at the five who are either on or standing near their beds. “I know I explained briefly at your home, but I need to thank you for volunteering the way you have. It takes a special kind of bravery to do this without much question.”

“More like a special kind of crazy,” Spike agrees, shaking his head with a smile, “Our kind of crazy.”

Y/n smiles back, a genuine smile, “Crazy or not, thank you.”

She moves to leave, but Bea speaks up.

“I have a question.”

Y/n turns back to Bea, expectantly.

“Is fighting a moon-shifter truly as dangerous as you say it is?”

“Yes, they are brutal creatures.”

“Is that why Danny doesn’t want you or us fighting them?”

Something flashes across Y/n's face, but she masks it quickly. “That’s…one of the reasons, yes. Danny can be…overly cautious.”

“What’s another reason?” Billy questions, brow furrowing.

“As Death-Keepers we are sworn to hunt the undead. Lycans, while soulless, are not technically undead.”

“Who usually deals with them then?” Leo asks.

“That is an incredibly complicated answer…suffice it to say there were factions and guilds that used to train hunters, but they’ve long since died away.”

“So, no one?” Billy clarifies flatly.

“For the sake of simplicity, correct.”

They’re all silent for a moment, Y/n waiting patiently to see if there will be more questions.

“We’ll be alright, right?” Asks Jessie from her high pirch on the bunk. She looks nervous, much like how Leo feels.

Y/n’s face softens, and she speaks earnestly, “I promise on my life as a Death-Keeper, I will do everything in my power to keep you all safe. Starting with letting you all get some well deserved rest. I’ll be by in the morning to gather you for breakfast and more training.”

She turns and leaves the room, closing the door gently with a soft click.

Leo, watching her go, feels a weird desire to follow her. More questions about her still rattle in his brain. Without even looking to the others, he rushes out the door and runs after Y/n.

“Y/n, wait!” He calls after the Keeper.

She stops and spins to face him. Her expression surprised and a bit worried. “Is everything alright? Do you need something?”

Leo, walking quickly to reach her stops and in an exhale, says, “No, I was just hoping I could…talk with you?” He ends the last word with an upward inflection, unsure if he’s just made the right move.

Y/n hums, “I see. Well I don’t want to do that here in the hallway. Let’s go to the library.”

She turns swiftly, and Leo just has to start walking to not be left behind.

“Can we actually talk there?” He asks innocently once he catches up.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a library. Isn’t it meant to be quiet?”

“At this hour, no one is there. It will be a perfect place to talk.”

Rounding a corner, they come up to a set of large double doors, made of the same heavy wood seen elsewhere in this underground complex. This one, however, has a notably sized lock fashioned inside the door. One that takes a fairly old fashioned key which Y/n takes from one of her many inside pockets, and fiddles with the lock. A resounding click echoes through the hallway when she gets the door open.

With a rather dramatic flourish, Y/n pushes both doors wide, revealing a room over a hundred meters long with bookshelves spanning the entire length. It isn’t beautiful like the libraries of the palace with rich mahogany, garish molding and allegorical paintings. Instead, it’s rugged and industrial with a surprisingly cozy atmosphere.

The brick is well cared for, and the metal that creates the columns supporting the balcony and its railings are made from wrought iron that is twisted and shaped into intricate patterns. Large dark wooden beams span the high ceilings which are painted a deep blue with gold stars everywhere. It gives the room and its inhabitants the feeling of being under the night sky. Electric torches dot the walls, faintly lighting each aisle in a soft yellow hue, and in study spaces with worn and plush chairs are small candles melted all over themselves from countless hours of use.

“What do you think?” Y/n finally asks a few minutes later, having quietly watched Leo as he walks slowly about the room, taking in the titles of books he’s never heard of and subjects he never dreamed he’d be able to read.

“It’s…it’s incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it. Took my a long time to see it that way for myself.” Y/n says quietly, a hidden memory apparent in her eyes as she looks at the wall of books they’re currently perusing.

“You didn’t like reading before?” Leo asks, appreciating the way the closest candle’s light dances on her face.

“God no. I wouldn’t have looked at a book if it bit me in the eye! I was all fire and fight. Charging into fights, starting fights, training long grueling hours, making myself a fit body over anything else. I believed strategy was earned, not learned.”

”What changed your mind?”

Reaching to grab a book on the shelf above her, she slides out a small thick tome bound in black leather and covered in a thin layer of dust. Y/n lets out a long sigh as she stares at the front cover. It’s the kind of sigh that comes from somewhere deep in her being.

“I wish it was time. A softening that came with age, where I mellowed out and learned to sit still and enjoy the worlds books offered, but it wasn’t.” She answers quietly. One hand moves to wipe off the dust on her book.

Leo stays silent, watching her careful handling of the book, waiting to see if there’s more to her story before asking for it himself.

“A mistake was made.” Her voice is even quieter, and Leo can hear the sadness in each word. “One that might have been avoided had I or any of my comrades studied our opponent properly. But many of us had become such glory junkies. Fighting our battles to add to a win tally, rather than to protect and set things right. One night on a team assignment we charged headfirst without knowing what consequences would befall us and…our mistake killed a lot of innocent and good people.”

Though half her face is hidden, Leo can see the pain of the memory in the way she had curled into herself ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say. He only knows through horrid imagination what it would be like to lose even one of his friends or to witness fatal consequences of his actions affect others and not himself.

“Thank you,” She mutters, and after another breath of silence, she sniffs and turns to him, the air about her changing completely. “So, you wanted to talk?”

“Uh,” He’s taken aback by the rapid change in mood, his head trying to catch up, “Yes, but I’m afraid…” Something akin to nerves stirs in his chest, “I didn’t have a specific topic in mind. I sort of just wanted to talk with you.”

“I can do that. Want to get more comfortable?”

She gestures to a set of large worn overstuffed seats with two quilts draped over each back.

Leo grabs the one closest to him while Y/n places the black book on the side table and begins rounding her chair when she stops to look at a bookshelf near them with interest. She changes her direct and heads over to a large row of what Leo assumes is encyclopedias of some sort. She removes two of them and pulls out a clear bottle of dark red liquid and two small crystal glasses.

“Do you like raspberry cordial, Prince?” She asks, her eyebrow cocking in silent question of whether he’d indulge with her.

“I don’t think I’ve tried it, if I’m being honest.”

“No? Not even at your fancy parties?”

He shakes his head, “I tend to stick with champagne at those.”

“Ah, the bubbly. A good champagne is hard to pass up, and I imagine you get the best,” She comments, taking his lack of ‘no’ to her unspoken proposition as a positive answer. Sitting down, she pulls at the bottle’s stopper. A satisfying pop coming with its freedom, and Y/n pours a small serving into each glass.

“To a calm world,” She toasts.

Raising her glass to him in salute, she brings the liquid to her lips. Leo follows suit mechanically, finding himself mesmerized by the way the ruby liquid taints her beautiful lips. He watches her tongue run the seam of her mouth, a thrill positively surging through his veins as she hums in happy satisfaction.

She looks back at him, excited, “God, it’s always the best with the first sip. What do you think?”

Honestly, Leo hadn’t tasted it with the first pass. So, he quickly takes another sip, finally tasting the sweet and tangy substance. It reminds him of raspberry jam, just with a slight burn at the end. He can see why this type of drink can be dangerous. It’s like adult candy.

“It’s good, delicious really.”

Y/n beams, “I love a few sips now and again. Strictly speaking, we’re not supposed to drink, but what's wrong with giving into your sweet tooth every once in a while?”

“I imagine the answer is not at all?” He guesses.

“You would be correct, but I still need to hide it here where no one will look.”

“And no one looks behind those books?”

“No,” She scoffs lightly, “They're a grossly outdated collection of philosophical ramblings from someone many considered an insane man.”

“He wrote a significant amount,” Leo points out.

“Yes, well, word count alone doesn’t make you right, just loud.”

“I’ve noticed loud gets recognized more often than right.”

“An unfortunate reality of the human race, I’m afraid.” Y/n sighs, but then she looks at him, a hint of curiosity and concern filling her stare. “But why do I feel like you say that as a matter of personal experience rather than simply from political experience?”

Leo’s surprised by the question. It’s something rather personal in nature but astute too. He’s not even sure he knows how to answer the question.

“I guess, perhaps…” He pauses, trying to think.

“I was sickly as a kid,” he finally answers, a vulnerability opening in his chest, “Doctors and Daimler, my footman, took away my right to autonomy in the name of keeping me safe. Their voices were always louder than mine. I didn’t get a say in my life outside of the boundaries placed around me. I fought against them, but my voice was never loud enough.”

“Until you ran away,” Y/n adds.

Leo nods. “Until I ran away.”

“It was a bold move to run away. Even bolder that you would choose to help fight powerful evil as your first experience in the real world. Most boys tend to crave a different kind of adrenaline.” Her voice is colored with respect, though humor seems to dance in her eyes.

Leo feels his cheeks heat up, and he admits, looking down at his glass, “I’m not far from most boys.”

“Oh?”

“I ran away for a girl.”

“You did?” Y/n gasps, but her shock pinches into confusion immediately, “But who—Bea and Billy are a couple aren’t they? And Jessie would have been much younger…Was there another girl?”

He shakes his head, “There wasn’t another girl. I fell for Bea…She was my first love so to speak.”

“Wow and the five of you managed to survive all that?”

“Amazingly, yes. I’ve heard that’s rare.”

“Extremely.” Y/n looks impressed. “So she’s what made you stay?”

“Yes, but she was not my main reason by the end. They had all become my friends, and they needed help. It was the right thing to do.”

“And here I was, thinking you had a streak of daredevil in you,” She says, taking the last swig of her drink.

Leo chuckles, and does the same, finishing his cordial, “Hardly, I squirmed in my skin at the things I saw. But...”

“The adventure sunk its hooks into your bones.” Y/n muses in a knowing voice. “The comradery, the chase, the thrill of your world expanding with each new case, and of course, the honorable purpose…”

“It was the first time I’d ever felt alive, and like I belonged!” Leo agrees and looks at Y/n, wondering the same thing about her. Here he was telling her all about himself, yet he still knew so little of her. “Is that why you became a Death-Keeper?”

“You mean for the adventure?” Y/n clarifies.

Leo just nods.

“Oh heavens, yes,” Y/n says while pouring a bit more of the cordial in both of their glasses. “I told you, I became a glory addict. The adventure ran through my veins for years. Each kill, banishment, or capture kept the fire burning.”

“It isn’t like that anymore?”

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” She grins softly, “A good fight, and a wild ride to victory gets me fired for the next time. I just have a less reckless spirit now. I’ve had to mellow.”

“You keep making it sound like you’ve been doing this for decades,” Leo teases, lifting the glass to his lips again.

“Who's to say I haven’t?” She counters with a raised eyebrow. “I’m older than I look, Prince.”

“You can’t be that much older than me.”

“Oh no? Why’s that?”

“Well…” Leo pauses, staring at her. Confusion and curiosity fight with rational logic until all he can say is, “How old are you?”

Y/n laughs, the sound ringing clearly in the silent library, “You have absolutely no tact.”

Leo knows red is shooting across his cheeks as he tries to backpedal, “If I offended you, I’m sorry, I only meant—“

Y/n leans forward and places a hand on his leg, the touch lodging all sound into a tight ball in his throat.

She meets his gaze, laughter still evident in the way her smile crinkles her eyes, “Relax, I’m teasing. I am older than you, but that’s all you get to know.”

“Right, no age,” Leo murmurs, eyes fixed on Y/n’s. He wants to keep studying her features, take in the line of her lips and the slope of her nose, search her black eyes, see how deep they go. He wants to know her completely. ”What if I ask for other facts about you?”

He sees her smile start to fade into a calm grin as she lets a few seconds go by to search his eyes for herself before sitting back in her chair, her hand sliding off his thigh in the process.

“That depends, what do you want to know?” She answers.

“I only know facts about the Death-Keepers that I’ve read in books, and I’m curious to know what is true or not.”

“You want to play a bit of fact or fiction?” Y/n asks, running a middle finger over the rim of her glass absently.

“Yes! And if I happen to learn what your favorite color is in the process, I’ll consider it a success.”

“My favorite color?” Y/n's grin is back, big and full of humor. “I love the light purple of dawn, where you can’t tell if it’s blue or pink, all you can do is watch it become the sweet sky blue of the day. But I just know that’s not the kind of details you want to learn. Here’s a free one, Death-Keepers must be ambidextrous in as many skills as they can be.”

“To prevent any significant drawbacks if you become an amputee?”

“Correct!” Y/n confirms happily, “The only bothersome thing I haven’t mastered yet is throwing an axe with my right hand. For some confounded reason I can’t get it right, and I’ve been practicing for years!”

“I don’t think I could write my name with both hands let alone throw anything with deadly aim.” Leo admits, obvious awe in his tone.

“Well I hardly think you’ve had the chance to practice,” Y/n replies. “Now, what's your first question for me?”

“Do you know alchemy?” Leo asks immediately. He really wants to know the answer to this.

“Alchemy?” Y/n asks, shocked. “As in ‘can I turn this table to gold?’”

“No, that’s not…can you?”

“Absolutely not,” Y/n laughs again, “In what way are you curious about alchemy. There are many practices of an alchemist.”

“How do you use alchemy?”

“I tend not to do it myself. I know its practices are useful, and if you were to ask me to make you a healing balm I certainly could, but I’m afraid you’ll find our form of alchemy is simply science and a holistic understanding of the human body, and the world really. What might be fairytale magic in your books is what we understand to be science and the spiritual coming together.”

“So you know how, you just don’t use it?”

“I don’t need to.” Y/n shrugs, “Aria, our “resident alchemist” if you will, does it for us. Just like we all know weapons, but Hephaestus is the head of the armory.”

“What are you the head of?”

Y/n hums an amused note, “Thank you, that’s flattering you’d think I’m the head of anything.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not, but I prefer it that way. I am so much more free to be the eyes and ears and hands of our coven out in the world.”

“I know the feeling.” Leo admits. He knows he gets the same sense of freedom when he’s in the city with his friends, away from the palace. In the city, when he fights against the supernatural, Leo feels purpose and gratification in helping people. Frail or not, he feels free and finally at peace with himself. It’s why he can’t give it up, no matter how often he’s threatened with consequences of the royal kind to stay home. Sometimes he even wonders if it is possible to make his life in the city a permanent change, and how he might do it…

Leo finds himself asking before he realizes it. “How did you become a Death-Keeper?”

Y/n’s face, once gentle and warm, falls into an unreadable mask, but Leo sees a sadness in her eyes he can’t describe. She looks between his blue ones, a small frown coming to her lips as she speaks quietly, “Through a week long ritual. Once on the other side, I was changed forever. Honed for fighting, capable of more than I realized even then, but never to be who or what I was before.”

“What you were?” Leo says, catching the strange use of the word.

“We’re warriors, Leo. I was reborn to hunt in that ritual.” Y/n looks away from Leo while saying this, the sadness wrapping itself around her words.

Leo can feel the vulnerability in the moment, see this piece of her complexity offered to him in confidence. He doesn’t want to accept it rashly, but he remembers what she said earlier taking a few educated liberties, “You don’t hunt innocent people, Y/n. You kill monsters, and save tormented souls from a cursed afterlife.”

The ghost of a smile finds her mouth as she turns to him, “I am not denying what I do, what we do. I am a Death-Keeper and proud of it. But even I know…our kind is a double edged sword.”

Leo opens his mouth to respond, curious what she means, but Y/n doesn’t let him. She stands up rather abruptly and takes the bottle of raspberry cordial with her over to the bookshelf it came from. She talks over her shoulder while she’s at it, “It’s getting into the early hours, Prince. You should get some sleep.”

She says it lightly, but Leo knows there is no negotiation in her tone. The conversation had gone somewhere she wasn’t ready to share, and it was over.

“Of course,” he says, putting his glass on the table as he gets up. He catches a glance at the book Y/n had picked up and reads the title, The Blood Moon Wars: A History of Battle Between Lycans and Revenants.

Revenants… The word lodged itself in Leo’s mind, shaking his memories with familiarity but no connection is made.

Standing up straight, he sees Y/n calmly putting the philosophy books back where they belong, her back to him, further signifying the end of their discussion.

“Goodnight,” He says to her, “and thank you…for talking.”

She turns her head so she can meet his eyes, some of her warmth is back in her obsidian gaze, and she nods. “Goodnight, Leo.”

—

Leo wakes with a start, heart thundering as he tries to take in his unfamiliar surroundings. Three small holes in the ceiling glow faintly like a nightlight, casting a silver glow around the room. He can just barely see the faint outlines of his friends sleeping soundly in their bunks.

Their presence, undisturbed by nothing but sleep, calms him, and his breathing slows. The events of the night catch up to him, flooding back as he remembers where he is and why. Slumping back into his pillow, he runs his hands over his face, trying to consciously breathe deeply to get the anxiety out of his gut, but just as his body loosens enough he might actually be able to fall asleep again, he hears footsteps coming down the hallway outside.

Hushed voices come next, and Leo can just make out Danny’s voice.

“I'm not going to stop. Not until you tell me what you’ve gotten yourself into. And those kids for that matter?”

“I’m training them to fight moon-shifters, what more do you want?”

Leo sits back up as he recognizes Y/n's voice.

“I want you to tell me you’re training them so you can have no part in this.”

“You know I’d never do that.”

“It’s forbidden.”

“I’m aware of that!” Y/n snaps quietly. “That’s why I’m trying to tell you as little as possible! You can’t be involved.”

“I already am, so why are you making it so hard for me to help you?”

“I swore no Death-Keeper would be a part of it save for me.”

“And you think going rogue is a better idea?” Danny whispers back, a tone of sarcasm in his voice.

“It’s safer for all of you.”

“Until there’s a war on our hands, Y/n! You know how volatile and thin the barrier gets when our two kinds clash.”

“I was hoping with me being the only one, it would lessen the effects.”

“That was your plan?” Danny’s tone is incredulous. “A hope and a prayer that the thing that always happens, just miraculously doesn’t happen?”

There’s silence beyond the door, tense and uneasy. Leo feels fairly confident Y/n wasn’t silenced by Danny’s critique, but rather fighting the irre he’s brought on her.

Danny speaks again, “What debt could possibly be worth the repercussions?”

There’s another pause before Y/n answers quietly, “Sherlock Holmes.”

“Your life-debt.” Danny doesn’t say this like a question. It’s a statement. It makes Leo wonder what could have happened between Y/n and Sherlock for her to own him her life.

“Yes,” Y/n confirms anyways, “His partner asked me to do this for Sherlock.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You realize that’s some truly messed up manipulation tactics right?” Danny asks incredulously. “Sherlock’s gone into the other realm. Your debt went with him just as if he’d died.”

Y/n sighs deeply, “Again. I’m well aware, but Watson…he was there too. In many ways my debt is both Sherlock’s and his to wield.”

“You’ve never said he was there.”

“Well he was. So he has every ability to manipulate me, and obviously the loophole worked.”

“You need to get out of this.”

“I won’t.”

“But you just said—“

“Danny, the moon-shifters are multiplying at an alarming rate. You remember what happened last time. We lost so many of us in that hell. We cannot let that happen again if we can help it. This is the best chance we have at stopping this before it gets to a point we have no choice but to confront it, and that will result in another war.”

“Then Casia needs to know what’s going on.”

“Not yet, give me more time to train them.”

“All of us should know to prepare.”

“But she’ll just say no! Wait! Danny, stop!” Y/n blurts out like she’s trying to stop him from leaving. “Wait!”

Danny's footsteps are heard walking down the hall, Y/n’s lighter ones rushing after him. A few moments later, the hallway door shuts with a solid click, and the bunker is silent save for Billy’s soft snore.

Leo slumps in his bed much like a minute earlier, running his hands over his tired eyes as he tries to calm the new swirl of chaotic thoughts racing through his brain. This information he’s just gained feels like loose threads connecting to nowhere, tangling themselves with the truth Leo thought he’d known.

This was the second time he’d heard a Death-Keeper refer to themselves as a “kind” like they themselves were a different species other than human? And why would their kind, fighting lycans, create an instability in the barrier between their world and that of the supernatural?

And war? What do they mean by war? And hadn’t Y/n said they both should remember the last time it happened? Y/n hadn’t said anything about a war she’d been through…but she had talked about a time when she had been through great loss. Could this Great War be what she was talking about? But that would mean she’s fought lycans before.

The confusion swirled in his mind, tightening a frustrating kind of anxiety in his chest.

Hadn’t Watson said earlier, “A pack hasn’t been active in London for centuries.” How could she fight a creature that hasn’t existed in centuries when she’s hardly older than…

Leo sits bolt upright as his mind connects a dot. A fantastical dot, a dot so far fetched he might be going crazy, but all the same it feels like it makes sense. He just needs to make it back to the library to confirm it.

Flinging the blankets from him, he gets out of bed, grabs his jacket, and hastily puts his boots on, barely able to tie his laces with excited adrenaline buzzing through his body. With half a mind to carefully open and shut the door to the bunker quietly so as not to wake his friends, he sneaks out of the room.

Racing down the halls he finally turns and sees the double doors to the library. He gets about halfway down the hallway when he realizes he’s supposed to have a key.

He curses under his breath, a habit he unwillingly picked up being around Billy and Spike so much but has since nurtured it into his own vernacular in a way that can only be his fault.

Crossing all metaphorical fingers, he still approaches the door and tries to turn the knob.

The fact that it opens feels like a miracle to Leo. Though, perhaps Y/n had simply forgotten to lock up after she left.

He follows the main aisle between the bookshelves until he finds the row where he and Y/n had hunkered down. The couches still looked lived in, with the quilts crumpled, and the two crystal glasses still sitting on the middle table. Why Y/n wouldn’t have cleaned up the glasses if drinking was a guilty pleasure, Leo can’t say, but he pays the thought no mind. All he can focus on is the book in between the glasses.

Rushing to the book, he grabs it and opens it up carefully, knowing how old it is.

The first page has an inscription written in ancient Latin, and Leo translates it, reading:

One part moon, the other spirit.

Together, comes calamity.

Leo feels his insides do a somersault, and he flips forward to the first pages. He skims the pages looking for what he needs.

His heart hammers in his chest, and he can even feel his hands shaking a bit as he turns the pages.

Then he sees it.

In all capital letters is a section heading: Revenants and Their Ties to Lycanthropy. He starts reading.

Revenants, also known as Death-Keepers, are protectors created by a Soul Ritual. First created for protection, they are sworn by creed and honor to fight against the supernatural perversion that is the undead. Ironically, they too are undead.

Leo’s blood drains from his face as shock vines its way across his limbs as he stares at the last word.

If Y/n had been around for this war in 1543 and fought as a Death-Keeper, then that would mean Y/n hasn’t been alive in at least 300 years…

OK! There was part 1! I hope you enjoyed it and it wasn’t too slow! There was a lot of set up here for the full climactic ending and everything.