Adrian Greylock was having what he could only describe as an utterly shit evening. First, he’d lost spectacularly at cards and been taken for more money than he’d intended. Normally he wouldn’t care, but he’d lost to Lord Wittlebottom who was entirely too proud of his ridiculous family name, and whose smug, hatchet-like face made him want to hit things. He’d win it all back and then some another night, but it was grating to have it happen at all. Adrian’s mind had been on other things.

The full moon was not far away and he could feel the undeniable pull of it in his bones. It was not a feeling he particularly enjoyed, especially the way his body responded. He was, he supposed, going into a kind of “heat”. He prided himself on having strong self-control, it was galling to be reminded so acutely of his animal side and its…needs. Every full moon he felt like a teenager, hormones rushing and raging. He’d never had an “incident”, but it was something he feared. The idea of hurting someone while in his wolf state was a constant, low grade, anxiety.

He was not a rutting animal, he was a man with a…condition. One plenty of others shared. Mating was a natural part of the cycle, but he struggled against it, in both his human and animal form. Affairs he was no stranger to, but he chose where, when, and with whom. He did not just give in to his monthly drive to copulate mindlessly. Just like he didn’t give in to its equally strong urge to feed, rend, and tear.

Because of this internal set of rules, Adrian was looked on with suspicion by the other wolf people of Evening. He didn’t blame them, most fully embraced their dual nature. He had seen, however, what giving in to that brutal force could do. The grief it could cause. He would never allow himself to be in that state again.

This was all the usual background noise of his mind, however. It wasn’t what was foremost troubling him and distracting him at cards. Far more pressing were the growing rumors in the city that some kind of upheaval was coming. There was an air of restlessness that had nothing to do with many inhabitants pull towards the lunar cycle, and everything to do with the barely maintained power struggles that went on day to day finally getting to messy to be contained. Adrian had a suspicion he knew who was at the core of this push towards a change in regime. And he did not like it.

Then there were the murders. At first, no one on his side of the bridge had taken any notice. Dead women in The Pits didn’t much signify to them. But one of the women who had turned up was, in fact, from the Dolger family, a fact not commonly known. Adrian had taken a personal interest in the matter, partly because he liked to keep tabs on The Pits in general anyway. The Dolger’s, however, were one of the few families in Evening with a good, if not entirely spotless, history. They genuinely tried to give back and work towards a more fair and equal balance of power. They were Fey hybrids, uncommon in the upper classes. The murder had been particularly gruesome and Adrian had discovered she wasn’t the only one. A pattern was emerging he did not like, a pattern that was disturbingly familiar. It was impossible that it was him…and yet.

The level of distraction this possibility had caused was what had led him to his current predicament. After the game he’d realized he had to find out more about these killings up close, not relying on second hand information.

He’d gone to the site of the first murder, a young streetwalker who had been found strung up (well, parts of her) by the docks. It had been a sloppy murder by all accounts, blood everywhere, mostly from cuts on her body. The area where she’d been found was quiet but hardly secluded. It seemed odd no one had witnessed anything, not even a strange sound or a scuffle. He’d looked around but it had been too long since the crime. Too many scents, too much dirt and sweat and other excretions had mingled with the general odor of the city. He wasn’t going to discover anything new there.

After, he had checked on several of the other sites where bodies (or their parts) had been found for clues the law had likely missed. Probably because they’d been paid not to look for anything. He had found nothing, again. Which, given his senses, was incredibly unusual. He thought it might be because it was his time of the month and started on his way back. He’d try again when he wasn’t basically on sensory overload. But those heightened senses led him astray and he had somehow managed to get lost in one of the seedier parts of The Pits, which was quite an accomplishment. Getting lost was not something that happened to Adrian. He was starting to wonder if there weren’t other things at work when he found himself on a dark street without an outlet. And realized he’d neatly gotten trapped.

He was now surrounded by several less than savory characters who would not usually have been able to sneak up on him, let alone entrap him. They were your average footpads, bent mostly on thievery, but it didn’t make their knives any less sharp or their desperation any less unpredictable.

In other circumstances Adrian might have simply…changed, and things would have been over quickly. However, given what was going on with the dead women, he really didn’t think more bodies with bite marks showing up would be particularly useful. He doubted the law would care about a bunch of criminals from the slums, but Adrian preferred not to kill unless it was absolutely necessary. And he didn’t especially want to draw attention to himself because although the law might not give a shit, others would. Besides, he had built a rather solid reputation on his no unnecessary killing policy. Because then when he did, it was unforgettable.

“Yer valoobles, sir, be quick!” said one of his assailants, a man who smelled rather unpleasantly of old piss and cheap whiskey. Adrian nodded and threw his purse down in the midst of them. It made a not very satisfying thunk as it hit the cobblestones.

“That’s all I have, I’m afraid.” He said in a congenial, placating voice. “I lost at cards tonight, rather badly. Fellow took me for most of what I had.” One of the thieves stooped and picked up the bag, shaking it with a considering look.

“Let’s just take it and be off, Sidney. I’ve had my fill o’ this thieving shite tonight.” The bag handler said. He had lowered his knife and laid a hand on Sidney, the one who smelled like a privy. The others nodded, lowering theirs. Sidney, however, seemed to be almost vibrating with anger, his knife glinting in the moonlight and shaking slightly.

“No. He’n got more on him, I know it. These gentry always do.” He said stubbornly, moving closer to Adrian.

“Leave it, Sid. We’re close to the full moon. Gotta be careful who you lift offa near a full moon.” said one of the others.

“These gentry ain’t got none o’them gifties. Wouldn’t lower emselves to use it.” said Sidney, moving forward a little.

“But The Hunt…” tried another. His group were backing off, not liking where this was headed. Adrian didn’t blame them. Though it wouldn’t save them, either.

“Shit on The Hunt. Give us all of it or I’ll stick you right in your pretty mouth.” He advanced, jabbing the knife wildly.

“I really don’t want any trouble.” Adrian said, putting his hands palm up.

“Well, you’ve got some.” The man replied, smiling nastily with a mouth full of yellow teeth.

“No, you don’t understand.” Adrian said sadly, putting his head down and his hands in his pockets.

“I was warning you.” Adrian took a deep breath and prepared to change.

He was interrupted by several soft thuds, an “urk!”, the clattering of knives and the sound of feet running. When he looked up, his would be attacker was slumped on the ground along with two other companions. The one with the purse had clearly run off, dropping his meager reward in the process. A small-cloaked figure stood before him, looking up, head tilted.

“Do you usually start meditating right before someone mugs you?” asked an amused, slightly husky, feminine voice. She stepped into the soft moon and lamplight, pulling the hood back. A riot of dark red curls tumbled around a pale, elfinly pretty face with large, light blue eyes and dark quirked brows. She was quite small and young looking, and he could not tell her shape whatsoever in her billowing cloak. But with a face like that, it hardly mattered. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and good humor, her skin was luminous even in the shadows, and she had rosy bowed lips and pink cheeks. Besides, she had just rescued him. Even if he hadn’t really required it.

“I was…preparing myself., “ he answered.

“For getting stabbed or for a clever retort?”

“Neither.” He said, with a grin. “They wouldn’t have hurt me. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I don’t know, you look pretty strong to me.” She said.

Maggie looked up into the face of a tall, slimly built man of maybe 30. He had long, thick, black hair with a premature streak of gray. His face was finely etched and aquiline, with a strong but not thick nose and jawline. He had a light beard that also held glints of gray and expressive brows like crow wings over warm gray eyes. His coat was finely made, tailored she was pretty sure, and the broadness of his shoulders told her he likely had a wiry strength and grace. He also had the most appealing grin she had ever seen.

“Thank you.” He said, and bowed, his long hair sweeping down along his neck. She smiled back, she couldn’t help herself.

“It was my good deed for today.” Maggie said. They both looked down as one of the would-be thieves groaned.

“Shall we?” she said, and held out her arm. He took it and stepped over the human heaps with a long, graceful stride.

“Let’s.” he replied, and they walked back up the alley to the more favorably lit street, arm in arm.

Maggie checked out the profile of the man beside her and admired the silky fall of his hair. He was an interesting blend of pretty and rugged, and he held himself with a lazy self-assurance that was instantly appealing. Which made her suspicious. And decidedly attracted to him.

Adrian, meanwhile, was looking down at the small, fine boned hand that rested lightly on his forearm. She had delicate fingers with short, bitten nails. They were otherwise unmarked and had the same luminous skin as her face. He could also feel the tenseness radiating off of her. She was wary of him. Which meant she was smart.

“So, madam, I am at your mercy. I have no idea where I am and would be obliged if you could help me on my way home.” He said formally, looking down at her with a cheeky grin. She searched his face.

“How did you get down here? It doesn’t seem like your sort of scene.” She asked.

“I got turned around on my way back from a night of true debauchery.” He answered. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Let me guess. You went to one of the gaming halls and lost. Probably The Golden Fountain.” She answered. He stopped short and stared down at her in shock. It was her turn for a cheeky grin.

“That’s a neat trick.” He said, giving her a closer look. “It was, in fact, The Golden Fountain. Surprisingly good champagne and they had these delicious little crab cakes… not important. Anyway, I decided to go for a walk along the Strain after losing. It’s beautiful this time of night. But I got turned around and ended up…here.” He gestured as though at a palace. Maggie did not buy this account for a second. For one thing, the Strain was a river with a thick film of sickly green scum that smelled almost exactly like rotting cabbage this time of year. No one in his or her right mind (or who valued their ability to smell) sought it out for a midnight stroll. Besides, everyone who lived in Evening knew that the Strain led from The Pits up to the main city if you just followed it north. Which was easy to suss out by looking for The Hangman’s Bridge and heading in that direction. You couldn’t miss it.

“Well, I can see you on your way, if you like. Hangman’s Bridge is not far.” She said.

“Thank you! I feel incredibly foolish. I’m terrible with directions, I could get lost in my own house.” He said, wondering if she believed anything he was saying. He rather doubted it.

“Sad. I wonder you came so far out of your regular way, with a problem like that.” She answered. They had passed the now closed Devil’s Due where she’d left Percy less than an hour ago in the arms of a burly, tattooed sailor. He’d bought rounds for the whole bar and was definitely the hero of the evening. She couldn’t blame him for celebrating, he’d clearly been through something and he’d gotten her the info she needed. She hoped the bag of gold made up for whatever it was he’d experienced. She had also meant what she said: she would find out what had happened and who had hurt him. And they would be extremely sorry.

As they walked, Maggie began to feel increasingly anxious. Not of the man beside her, precisely. She knew he was strong and could, if he wanted, have made life very difficult for her. However, she simply was not afraid of him in that way. And she had her own ways of dealing with anyone who got fresh. She was more disquieted by how attracted she was to someone she had literally just met. She hadn’t had this sort of physical reaction to anyone before. It was uncomfortable, but not precisely unpleasant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, looking at her with a quirked brow.

“I don’t come that cheap.”

“Good to know. You seem…anxious.”

“It’s probably nothing. It’s just…” she trailed off, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly standing up. “It’s nothing, I suppose.”

“If you say so, I’m assuming you know your way around here better than I do.”

“Probably. I live here. Well, near here.”

Adrian was aware that he was extremely attracted to this woman, who he had just met, and whose name he did not know. Other than her bewitching, fey little face, he didn’t even know what her body looked like. But she felt natural, walking beside him, and his body had begun a slow, throbbing hum. It was probably his time of the month acting up, but he suddenly wanted to know what her lips felt like.

The streets around them were quiet, which was part of what was making Maggie feel odd. The Pits were never quiet, not at any hour. Someone was always singing, yelling, fighting, or otherwise bustling with action of some kind. The kind of “business” that went on in this part of town did not wait until morning. Yet their voices were currently the loudest sounds. She could hear their footfalls, and neither was walking heavily.

“You didn’t tell me why you ventured all the way from what I am assuming is a very posh home on a night like this.” She said, breaking his less than innocent thoughts.

He muttered something in response but she did not hear him, she was too distracted by

listening to the silence around them; it seemed to be thickening with each step. She asked him to repeat what he’d said.

“I like adventure. Living on the edge.”

“Mhm.” She said. Something was definitely not right. She “felt” a sudden icy presence in her head, her eyes blinked opal for a split second and she “heard” a small, silent to anyone else voice, say “hide!”. A moment later she felt the man beside her tense as though he had felt something too, so she grabbed him and pulled him quickly into a nearby alley. She knocked him onto his back and quickly pressed herself down on top of him, letting her cloak fall over them like a concealing blanket. His hands came up to her hips to push her off and she shook her head sharply, placing her hand over his lips and giving him a look that she hoped effectively conveyed, “shut up and be still”. It seemed to. He was still tense beneath her, but he did not move. He also did not remove his hands from her hips. She looked up towards the mouth of the alley, keeping as still as she could.

Two hulking shadows with shining red eyes paused, swaying huge, spiky heads back and forth. Their bulk took up most of the alley’s opening, so it seemed to be a four- headed monster. The eyes blazed with a deep green flame before going back to red. They hissed and grunted at one another. She could just make out the words “red haired witch” and “lost”. One of them took a step into the alley and Maggie’s eyes widened as she realized what they were: Seekers. The voices in her head began to clamor, some scared, some angry. She tried to keep them calm.

Adrian, meanwhile, was completely at a loss. He knew from the look on Maggie’s face that something unpleasant was at the mouth of the alley, but he couldn’t see it. He tried to put his sense of smell to work, but all he could smell was her, a lovely mix of vanilla and jasmine. Beneath that he could also smell intense fear and he felt her body tense on top of him, her legs squeezing his waist. He was suddenly very aware of the soft curves of her pressed against him, the rounded hips his hands were holding, and the warmth of her that he could feel through both their clothes. She felt good against him and the combination of that and his own rising adrenaline started to make things a little…hard. He felt his teeth lengthening and his ears growing, and tamped down on the change. Not. Now. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt her.

Maggie tried to keep her breath quiet and even. From what she knew about Seekers, they mostly relied on their intensely keen sight and hearing. They moved by hopping from shadow to shadow and their favorite thing to eat was anything while it was still alive. In this case it was good they relied so heavily on sight and sound, since they were, she hoped, very well hidden beneath her cloak. She just didn’t know if they’d see them dart back here. The one that had stepped into the alley was swinging its head like a lantern, in an almost hypnotic sway. Suddenly, from somewhere a few blocks off, a bunch of something’s crashed, a cat yowled, and several voices rose and fell in a series of curses. The Seekers lifted their huge heads and, in a blink, were off in that direction. She took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly sat up. Keeping her face turned away, she checked inside, but all the voices were silent now.

“You okay?” she asked softly, keeping her eyes on the alley’s entrance.

“Yes.” He said, in a voice that seemed a little tense. “What the hell was all that hissing?”

“Seekers.” She said matter-of-factly. “Look, I know this will all sound complicated and I don’t really have time to explain but…” she stopped, looking down at him. A growl had come from deep in his chest and she saw his bared teeth, now sharp. She pulled back, but he still held her hips. His face was strained. “…or maybe I won’t have to explain it. My but your teeth are sharp, grandma.”

“You don’t. I know what Seekers are.” He said, his voice low and gruff. The teeth receded and his face returned to a more good-humored mask.

“Well. Aren’t you more than you seem.” she said, as he sat up and found herself atop his legs, held in a distractingly firm grip. She didn’t think he’d try to restrain her, but she knew she was being careless. She didn’t know this man. She didn’t even know his name.

“Likewise.” He tilted his head at her and then came close to her throat. She held still. He took a deep breath. “You smell…”

“If you tell me I smell “delicious” I will slap you.” She said. He grinned. He took another breath near the base of her neck and she shivered. He rubbed her hips and shifted her a little closer.

“Alright, I won’t. You do, though.” He pulled back and searched her face.

“So, are you a werewolf or a shifter or what?” she asked. She crossed her arms and attempted to look as dignified as she could while sitting astride a man who was sniffing her.

“Werewolf. Of the House of Greylock. My name is Adrian. And you? Who and what, exactly, are you?” he asked. Maggie’s eyes widened.

“What did you say your name was?” she asked, even though she had heard him perfectly well.

“Adrian Greylock. It seems I owe you my life twice tonight.” He moved closer to her, looking at her lips, which were now charmingly frowning. Time of the month be damned, she smelled intoxicating and he wanted to do…well a whole lot of very bad things.

“I’m Maggie. I heard your name earlier tonight, Adrian. I’ve been, sort of…looking for you. Or I was about to be.” She said. She was too surprised at this coincidence to realize how close his mouth was to hers. His hands had slid down to a very precarious spot. She felt something coming off of him, she wasn’t sure what, like a haze that made her feel a little dizzy and almost drunk. And very, very, warm in…all the right places. She was vaguely aware that werewolves could end up in a kind of “in heat” state near the full moon. She’d just never experienced it. It was…extremely sexy.

“Really? Well, how fortunate for me. I’d like to show you how grateful I am. May I?” he asked, brushing his lips softly against hers, feather-light. Maggie’s head was spinning. It had been a long time since she’d felt much of anything, let alone hot and aching. Since anyone had made her feel so excited and safe at the same time. Which was ridiculous, given who he was. Even if this man had not hurt her mother, it was likely he knew someone who had. He had a great deal of influence in very secret corners of the city. People were afraid of him. Inside her head, one of the voices tried to trill a warning. But her desire, warring with her little “helpers” won out, drowning them in a sea of response hormones. Her body was making it very clear that it was up for anything. She knew exactly what she was doing, too. The voices were helpful a lot of the time, she could not deny that. But other times it was like they didn’t want her to have any kind of life at all. And right now what she wanted was this man. Badly.

“Please, let me show you, Maggie.” He said in a husky low voice that gave her goose bumps. She might be making a huge mistake but at that moment, feeling him against her, she just did not care.

“Show me.” She said, and kissed him before he could kiss her. It was gentle, almost sweet, but insistent and searching. His lips were warm and firm, the stubble of his beard pleasantly rough. He pulled her to his chest as he deepened the kiss, darting his tongue against her lips until she parted them with a smile. She buried her hands in his hair, which felt exactly like she had expected: silky and smooth. She slid her hand to the back of his neck, feeling the strong tendons.

Adrian ran his hands up and down her back, enjoying her soft curviness. The feel of her hands in his hair made him slightly dizzy and he cupped one full breast, rubbing her nipple gently through her shirt. He wanted her clothing gone. In response, she pulled her lips away and buried her face in his neck, gently nipping at a place between his ear and his shoulder. It sent a shock through him and he sprang up, still holding her, and pressed her against the wall. His hands came down to hold her ample ass. She was not heavy or light, but comfortably warm and solid in his arms. He pulled back, breathing hard. She looked back at him resting her head against the wall behind her. Her eyes were sparkling, heavy lidded, and her breath was as fast as his.

“I think…” she said slowly, reaching up and touching his lips with her fingertip. He kissed them.”…that I should show you the way home.” He pressed his hips against hers and she closed her eyes for a moment, smiling.

“After all, it’s not safe for you out here tonight. Not with those Seekers about. You need my protection.” He came in and kissed her neck and she clutched at this shoulders, a blossoming heat between her legs.

“That’s not all I need.” he said, a low growl in his voice.

“Down, boy.” she said, with a smile.

Adrian let her slide down his full length, relishing every second of her body against his. She smiled up at him, knowing, full of promise. It took all his self-control to let her go.

“Come on, the bridge isn’t far.” Maggie said, pulling away from him. It wasn’t easy. That werewolf pheromone was powerful stuff.

“Pity.” he said, and it sounded like he meant it.

At the mouth of the alley Maggie poked her head out cautiously and looked around. She also “listened” and the voices told her all was clear.

“This way.” She said quietly, taking his hand.

Adrian was quietly amused at the way he was being led around, almost like a child crossing a busy street. He knew the way to Hangman’s Bridge quite well but since he didn’t want to be parted from Maggie’s company just yet, he was content to follow.

They passed a bar that looked pretty scummy, then down more alleys, past some even more dubious looking shops, and then into the slums. Laundry hung from multiple lines and there was a general smell of soap trying to cover up a lot of other scents that could never be washed out. Adrian still mostly smelled Maggie, however. Her scent was powerful and provocative to him. Something about it felt…right. But he pushed that thought down, unwilling to deal with anything beyond the immediate.

Maggie knew the way to the bridge by heart, so she was taking a rather deliberate detour to prolong the encounter. She liked this man, even though she didn’t know him at all and his name was rather coincidentally connected to her mother’s murder. If she believed in such things, she might have been inclined to think their meeting that night had been very fateful.

The voices in her head scolded her for being so easily tempted by a handsome face and a charming smile. She hadn’t had a relationship in a very long while and certainly wasn’t looking for one now. But what harm could it do? The voices replied: a lot. Maggie sighed inwardly, wishing, not for the first time, that her “gift” was a little less noisy.

In spite of her taking the long way, they made it to Hangman’s Bridge faster than both Maggie and Adrian would have liked. They stood in the fog regarding one another, the pull of attraction still intense between them.

“Well.” said Adrian.

“Yes. Well.” said Maggie.

“If you ever need my help again, you can call on me in town. I’m in Kingside Street. Number three.” He said.

“Hm. And if you ever need mine, I’m in The Pits. Just ask around.” She said with a cheeky grin. She took his hand and shook it. He held it for a moment, then stooped and kissed her palm. It sent a shiver up her spine.

“Ms. Esterhouse.” He said, bowing a little.

“Mr. Greylock.” She said, with a nod. Then she was gone, a fast moving shadow in the dark.

Adrian stared after her for awhile, the fog curling around him in grasping tendrils. Her scent lingered in the air. He wouldn’t need her address to find her. Something he had a feeling she was well aware of.

It was only as he made his way over the bridge that Adrian remembered: she had never answered his question. What was she?