Angel

“I see that Calliope and Calypso have charmed another with their Siren song.” I start, Marcus’ voice beside my ear, breaking the trancelike state that had come over me. Even with the extra height he gained by losing the glamour, he only comes to just a little above my shoulder. I wonder slightly if he is ever unsettled by the fact that all his female customers are not only strikingly beautiful, but a foot taller than him.

“Is that their names?” I can sense, below the surface of the gleaming metal, a consciousness that is almost sentient, stirring languidly at my voice.

“Yes, that is what they have chosen to be called. In this language anyway. In the language of the forge mages they are Dryghamine and Dryghone.” The words sound faintly German, but there is an underlying power in them that makes the air hum and the runes on the swords flare up when he speaks their names.

“Are they yours, is that why they have never been sold?”It doesn’t seem right that two such beautiful weapons could never have found buyers; and it seems a little odd for Marcus to be displaying his personal weapons with items that are for sale.


“No, I am not worthy of owning such beautiful masterpieces. Besides I am not capable of doing the work they were made for. The swords choose the Hunter, Angel. See if these will sing for you.”

I reach out my hand and, looking at Fang for confirmation, lay my left hand on the flat of Calliope’s blade, and my right on Calypso.

“Dryghamine,” I whisper, “Dryghone.” I close my eyes, breathing slowly, and wait. I hear Fang gasp slightly and open my eyes. The runes on the sword blades flare up brightly, and on the back of each of my hands is a rune etched in fire.

“Incredible.” Marcus whispered, “In all of three hundred years these blades have never found a partner. Seasoned Hunters with several hundred years of work behind them flocked to my store when I first made these and every one of them was turned down, and instead they pick you. There must be something big in store for you, my dear. I sensed when I was making them that there was a great destiny waiting for whoever wielded these.” He grasped the swords by their hilts and handed them to me blades first. “There is one last thing you must do before they are yours. Hold out your hands.” He pressed the tip of each blade into the palms of my hands; Calliope in my left, Calypso in my right. A dark bead of blood welled up around each point and then was drawn up the blade into the trough, sinking into the grooves of each rune, outlining them. “Now they are truly yours. I expect no payment, because destiny isn’t bought.”

He flips the blades around and hands them to me hilts first. I note the fact that they are now encased in
beautiful silver-plated sheathes that are etched in runes to match their blades, and they are hung on a leather harness to wear on my back, and smile slightly at Marcus; he smiles back, noting my amusement at the small magic he performed.

“Here, try these on.” Fang hands me a pile of clothes and steers me towards the dressing rooms.

I come out clothed in black; a skintight black corset-shirt made out of silk and leather, that is actually spell-reinforced armor, over a thin black silk long-sleeved shirt, black leather pants that hug my butt and my legs like a second skin, also spell-reinforced, and knee-length black leather high-heeled boots. I smile at Fang, acknowledging his taste in clothes, and knowing how good I look. He holds another armload of clothes, because I am obviously in need of a new wardrobe. I turn to Marcus, wanting to be complimented. He is holding out a long black leather trench-coat.

"Here, my dear, to complete the look.” He says, holding it open for me.

I slip it on, knowing that it is a perfect fit, and zip it up, admiring the way it hugs my body to the waist and then flares out down to the floor with a split up the back. I turn, showing it off a bit and smile at Fang; he smiles back, but it’s not quite the smile I was expecting; a sweet smile, to be sure, but not quite the sexy, suggestive, damn-you-look-good smile I was hoping he’d give me. I stand next to him while he pays Marcus for the clothes, feeling disappointed; but then I perk up a bit when Marcus speaks, only to stop when I realize that he’s talking to Fang.

“I have a job for you, Fang. The man asked specifically for you; he says that he has a job that’s right up your ally.”

“And what exactly would that be?” Fang shoots back.

“Well, it seems that here recently a pack of rouge werewolves has been discovered in Canada. It isn’t too big, no more than forty members plus the Alpha, but the pack elders want it dealt with.”


“Why is such a small pack such a big deal? I’ve heard of rouge packs with a hundred or so members being left alone.” Fang seems confused as he asks this.


“It seems that the pack’s Alpha caused quite a commotion during a leadership ceremony about thirty years back; said that the rules weren’t fair and then split from the pack as a loner. Her name was Farra.”


“A female.” Fang nods, comprehension dawning on his face. “Of course, I see now. This is up my alley. Where do I meet my employer?” Fang leans forward, placing his hands in the counter as he speaks.


“Why such a big deal over a female pack leader?” I pipe up. The discrimination seems a little sexist to me. “Why can’t female werewolves be leaders?”


Fang looks at me, understanding my confusion. “Not only is it against pack rules for a female to become an Alpha, but it is also unwise because it goes against all the were’ instincts. A female werewolf is smaller than a male, and a leader that needs protection to keep leadership challenges at bay is seen as weak and will be resented by the rest of the pack. Werewolves think differently than the rest of us.”

“Not only that,” Marcus adds, “but it seems that Farra here has only been turning men into wolves for her pack. No other females means no companionship for the men; unless they’re willing to lean towards the same sex. It also means no births and no expansion.”

“Oh,” I nod, even though I don’t fully comprehend what they are saying. “Werewolves can reproduce?” I blurt out suddenly, “I thought they only changed people.”


“Not true. Werewolves are able to reproduce not only with their own kind, but with humans and even Hunters. With a human the child may or may not be a wolf, but a werewolf-Hunter child will be a crossbreed, a hybrid, and a freak.” I can hear a slight hint of malice in Marcus’ voice as he speaks, and Fang has a disgusted sneer on his face; as if the very thought of a Hunter and a werewolf coming together in that way is unspeakable.

I think that their ideas seem a little harsh to me, but I say nothing; they wouldn’t have heard me anyway, they were too caught up in what they were talking about. They debated a bit on how much Fang should charge for the job, given the severity and the fact that he would be going without backup, a fact that I didn’t approve too much of but Fang said I wasn’t ready so I had to stay home; and then Marcus told him where to meet his employer and when and we went home.

Fang left not one hour after we got there.