The virus lingered in her. It was a weapon of the old world, put into people to turn them strong so they could kill other people. And they did, they killed many people, so many people that the old world dried up and died. But even after it ended and the Grandmothers started everything again, the virus remained. Grandmother found it where it hid, captured it, controlled it, used it. There was no mystery in it. Lost sciences turned men into monsters when the moonlight awoke the virus in their blood. It was not magic that powered the wolves.

But it was only some form of magic, an unknowable, unquestionable, higher power that could keep them in control. Grandmother had been given that power. With it she built the new world, and guarded it from the old. So went the proverbs. And so burned the Bible.

“Mankind has made mistakes. They are apparent all around you, in the trees, the cracked earth, in the grey sky. Grandmother goes on pilgrimage to atone for these mistakes. She consults the powers, she suffers, she learns. She takes burden upon herself for all those who stand with her. She leans on her people, takes their love and devotion. But Grandmother does not go without opposition. The horrors, the green men, wait in the woods, waiting to strike and destroy the hope she brings. You and your wolf stand as one being, pledged to serve her journey,” Hattamacker murmured. He spoke as one practiced, like he read from a manuscript, but there was nothing but dark in front of him. Everard wondered how many times he had said these same words.

“Mankind made the horrors, made the wolves, long ago, as weapons of war, punishment and death. These things were forgotten to the dark. Science and man created both. A plague, a disease, a mutation, a grotesque manipulation of nature created you, Wolf. Grandmother has tamed you, given you new purpose. And Red, you have taken this responsibility from Grandmother and made it your own.” Hattamacker gestured for Taya to move forward.

"As this woman turns under the moonlight, loses herself to the power and danger of her curse, you, Evan Red, will stand before her without fear. You will not turn. You will not run. Grandmother had granted her life even in her cursed state, looked past her sins and seen the person still contained within. Your wolf understands that she lives only to serve, and that to break this oath is to welcome death. You hold that same oath.” Everard felt his heart beat painful against his bones, reminding him with each quiver of the pain that was coming. “By standing here, by saying nothing… you swear to uphold your duties. Both of you.” He looked to each to them in turn. “Once this oath is taken, you have entered the service of a greater power, a collective peace created by all the Grandmothers in their wisdom. You will be at their command, and in turn, you will never be more free.” Everard didn’t ponder too hard over the contradictory nature of Hattamackers words. He forced his eyes back to Grandmother. He felt like screaming just to scream, just as he longed to jump from a high place when he stood on its edge. Violence boiled in his belly, building and bursting out. He felt sick, corrupted. He was not supposed to be doing this, he was never supposed to be here, in this position, with this girl, in this place again. He bit down and clenched his jaw until his molars felt ready to crack.

But he said nothing, and neither did Taya. After a lengthy silence that stretched past uncomfortable to a ridiculous level, Hattamacker was appeased.

“With silence… we move forward. Now… Present your gift to your wolf.” Taya dropped her gaze to the ground, even more quickly than Everard did. Everard shuffled awkwardly at the direction and readjusted his grip on the items he had been ordered to present to Taya. Hattamacker had told him to handle his weapon in his left hand, his basket in his right. He had to carefully use the fingers on his gun hand to open the basket. He flicked open the woven panels and managed to snag the tiny object inside with his middle finger. He had barely even looked at the thing when it was handed to him by the man in the technology stand in the old market. He had just shown the words Taya had written down on the piece of paper for him, and the man in the tent had given it to him. The object was odd, and to his eyes, useless. It was a white string, thin, with some sort of rectangular device with tiny metal teeth on the very end. It looked like a talisman of some sort, maybe a bracelet. As the gift-giving was customary at the onset of a new partnership, Everard did not question the odd choice. Personally he’d probably have asked for new boots, or a belt or knife.

Everard slid forward a few steps, and accidentally crushed another of the dead leaves, which sent shockwaves of sound echoing around the looming space. Taya remained with feet firmly planted and still, but he could see fight was barely winning over flight. Orders and rules were all that were stopping her, he could see the shake of her legs through the skintight grey suit. She still did not look up at him as he approached.

The thin, string-like object dangled from his two fingers and as she reached out and took it, she took great care to make sure her skin did not brush his. He could see the calculation in the way she angled her accepting hand. He successfully let it drop without releasing his gun, and he took a cautionary step backwards as soon as he knew she had it.

The deed now done, Hattamacker let his voice ring loud.

“The gift has been given. Is it accepted?” He looked to Taya now. Taya held the object up briefly so it was illuminated in a strong beam of light. Her grey eyes studied the rather featureless object for a longer time than he thought was possible.

“It is,” she said, not softly, but in a voice just as loud as Hattamacker. Everard shifted as she spoke. He hadn’t expected that voice from such a person. It had hardness, a deep, throaty husk as if it had been stripped from screaming too loudly.

Movement from above turned his attention back to Grandmother. The figure on the throne rose to its feet without warning. Silence but for their breaths stretched on and on. The figure finally spoke. The voice was not loud enough or strong enough for him to make out any details of it. He could sense what word had been said but nothing else.

“Good. Begin.” Grandmother stood straight, maybe even looking down at them. But she did not address them again. The figure shuffled into the darkness of the throne and then abruptly it was swallowed up into the mass. She evaporated backwards and her presence disappeared. Everard let his breath out, realizing he had been holding it for the last several seconds. Hattamacker cleared his throat, cutting the tension so abruptly Everard nearly let out a yelp of shock.

“Let’s go.” Taya stepped into line after Hattamacker. Everard pivoted on the spot and carefully avoided crushing more leaves. He took a few jogging steps to catch up with the retreating pair, questions, words burning on his lips. He held it all in though and instead just focused on the glimmers of light reflecting on Taya’s flowing hair. When he realized what he was doing, he broke his eyes away and tried to focus out into the gloom. Grey and dullness were of little temptation though, and before he could control himself, he found himself staring back at her again.

Hattamacker did not take them out of the pyramid but further into it. In silence they walked through the narrow passages and corridors, and all Everard had to look at was the girl’s hair. He could not see or make out any other details in the space around them, and she was just there, so close and shimmering. Reds and Wolves had all seemed like such a distant reality to him, and now here he was in the middle of it. He was so close to that terror he was inside it, breathing it.

At long last he saw light, real light. It was ahead, slanting in beams across the passageway. Hattamacker stopped them just short of the lights. The beams illuminated floating dust in the air, and their movement added to the strange stillness of this space. Hattamacker spoke.

“You can put your weapon away, and the basket. You will not need them here.” Everard hastily stowed the items away. Hattamacker didn’t look him in the face. He was addressing the darkness behind him more than anything.

“This is sacred ground. I can go no further. I am neither red nor wolf. You have been assigned partners for tomorrow’s Pilgrimage. They have been instructed to wait inside for you. They will teach you what you need to know, they are our most experienced pairing. Wolf and woman became one. Learn to trust them.” His job completed, Hattamacker stepped between them and walked back the way they had come into the dark. Everard looked after him until the sounds of his feet faded and there was no reason to look any longer.E

Everard was drawn to the source of the lights beams that illuminated the hall. The brightness was too much for his unaccustomed eyes, so at first all he could see was a pair of rectangular slits cut into the wall. He raised a hand to filter the glare, and after a few seconds of straining, could see the carved slits were channels that led in a direct line up and out into the open air somewhere above. The channels had been cut with an exactness that allowed sunlight to travel unhindered here, even into the bowels of the pyramid.

“Neat trick,” he said without thinking, and his own voice broke his concentration. He turned, remembering he was not alone and found she was looking at him. Taya had taken the few steps the passageway allowed backwards so she was as far from him as possible yet still able to see him illuminated. The white string danced and writhed in the air so he knew her hands were trembling.

“Why are you here?” she said, so softly he thought he might have imagined it. Maybe he had just known what she was going to ask and she hadn’t said anything at all. He dissected her, picked apart the details of her so he could remember which were old and which he had never seen before. She stared back, terrified, delicate, and seemingly forgetful of the power in her. He saw in her exactly what he’d left all those years ago. He saw her girlish desire, and the unknowable, uncontrollable pull he emitted that magnetically drew her to him. Cassandra had spoken of this. He also saw apprehension.

She wanted him once, unrequitedly. And that, that feeling was stronger than anything else he could ever create.

Everard searched for a beginning, a place to plant the cruelty and let it grow. It had to grow, or she would die. And so would he. He had no words, so he just pointed down the hall and nodded for her to lead on. Taya backed away and nearly tripped on the slippery stone. She righted herself and with poise, managed to control her wobbly legs. Everard fell in a few feet behind her, making sure to give them space.

“I’m here to be your red, to serve you... or… guard you,” he said. He couldn’t find any more words that fit together, so he didn’t try. They would come when they were ready. After seconds of darkness, with no real thought formulating, he pushed forth what was most immediate and crucial in his mind. He stopped, and at the silence of his steps, Taya stopped. She didn’t turn to face him.

“They brought me here,” he said. “They… they found me. When I heard… what had happened, I ran. I ran as far away as I could. Because I knew…” Taya shook her head, back and forth, again and again. It was endless, emphatic.

“No… You shouldn’t be here,” she said, “…How did they even know… about you...” Everard couldn’t tell if it was anger or fear laced in her voice. He shuffled forward and she matched the move by sliding further back along the passage. She finally turned in the dark to look at him. All he could see were her grey eyes. He raised his hands and faced his palms out. That look in her face did not go away. She shuddered, like he was the most horrible thing she had ever seen.

“No…” she said. Everard lowered his hands.

“Grandma knows everything. She found out about me… about you, about us. And they told me what was going to happen to you. If I didn’t come.” He sought out Taya’s transfixing eyes, hoping it would calm her, but she swiveled and dropped her head before he could make contact. She turned her body and faced the wall, cutting away his gentle probe of comfort. “They told me what would happen to me too, if I said no. I didn’t have a choice.’

“You could have said no … fought them. When we, well, when we were kids… you always said no, you ran when they told you to stay, stood where they said you couldn’t…” Everard felt uncomfortable as she processed things out loud. Everard reached out a testing hand and she instantly jerked away like he had suspected she would. He pulled back.

“Sorry… look… they found me, and that’s that,” he said. She said nothing. Feeling defensive under those terrible, delicate eyes, he continued on, giving in. “You see it. What it’s like out there. These days, I keep my head down mostly. Everyone does if they want to stay anyone.” Her eyes glowed like lamplight in the dark. Maybe it was the virus reacting and building in her.

“Well then this… this was bound to happen," she said, "There’s no other way. You couldn’t have fought them. And me… I can’t get away from this. Dying is the only way. It would be easier if I just did… for you, for me, everyone really…” Taya lifted her hands to her face. Everard felt a knife twist in his insides as he silently agreed with her. He felt anger, molten fury, and it was horrible, and pitiful, as he realized it wasn’t directed at her, but at himself.

“No,” he said at last. “If you die, I do too… I have no place in Grandmother’s world, I’m a hindrance, a criminal. A rabble-rouser they called me. You said it yourself, you know what I did before.” Taya bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Everard took a few ragged breaths.

“This is the last thing we both wanted to happen… but it has… and so far it’s been pretty good actually, I mean, they handed me a new cloak, this basket, and this,” he muttered, turning his hip to show her the holstered pistol. “In fact, all they’ve really done is give me stuff, food, money. That little thing I bought you cost more money than I’ve had in my whole life… what it is by the way?” Taya paused her pace and held up the white strand and ran her finger along the tiny metal teeth on the rectangular end.

“It’s something to attach...” she stopped herself and breathed in sharply. She turned her head away, and he thought there was almost embarrassment beyond the wide-eyed horror that hadn’t left her face since she had first spoken to him. “It’s just something I needed…” she finished quietly. He wanted to ask more but before more than a sound could make its way up and out of his throat, she had continued speaking. “Gifts are of course customary for a red to present to their wolf upon a meeting. Tradition dictates the passage of ownership. So thank you.” Her voice carried a forced flatness, a stifled bundle of emotion. Everard considered his options before acting. He was taking a calculated risk, he had no idea how she would react to the action, but he had to try.

“Don’t move,” he ordered her. She listened, even as he showed her his palm and extended it towards her. He gently took her wrist. She stopped. Her breathing escaped rapidly, expelled as her throat lost control of itself. Her hand trembled, but she did not pull away.

“They told me the gifts are supposed to represent trust, the beginning of the bond that is going to form between us,” Everard said softly. Her tugged slightly on her wrist to force her to face him. “The bond that’s going to have to form.” She turned, without resistance now. Her eyes were glued to his chest, and no matter how he angled his head to try and catch her gaze, he could not raise it.

“Look, Taya,” he said finally, “we are going to make this work. For both of our sakes.” She pulled her hand back finally and the movement stopped his words. She shook her head again and let her eyelids drop.

“No,” she said.

“No? You don’t want to live?”

“I…” Everard waved away the thought. There wasn’t time for this.

“It doesn’t matter. If you want me to live, you’re going to have to live. And if I want to stay, it’s the same thing. We don’t have a choice. Do you understand?” He hated that broken twitch in her eye as she nodded. Maybe she agreed, maybe not, but the submission had been built into her. Cruelty was not something that came easily to him, but as he spoke, he felt it well up in him. And he hated it, hated the taste like it was bile, the stench and the burn in his throat.

“We’re going to be ok,” he said at last, a little more gently. He gestured for her to lead. He felt like a liar because he was a liar. He knew she felt that in him.