Decadence

Artemis. Goddess of hunters.

Artemis is often represented with the Bow and Quiver of the huntress and with emblems representing the Moon and the Stars. She is often seen in the company of a Hind or a Dog.

Dec-a-dence n. Middle French, from Medieval Latin decadentia, from Late Latin decadent-, decadens, present participle of decadere to fall, sink -- more at DECAY
Date: 1549
1 : the process of becoming decadent : the quality or state of being decadent
2 : a period of decline.

Did you know there is a war in your very city, at this very moment? A war so vicious that if it were not secret by necessity, every human would be caught in the crossfire. The secrecy keeps us from all-out confrontation, but you may have seen glimpses of it; that shoot-out at the club, the bodies unearthed in the remote areas of the state. We keep it from you, for as a rule you humans, as a group, seem unable to cope with the existence of the supernatural.

Shall I introduce myself then? I am Artemis, alpha of my pack. You've probably met my kind and not known it. We are very good at blending in with humans, just as we are good at being unnoticeable when hunting our prey. Of course, we don't hunt very often anymore. It's difficult to find the time with this war.

Not all of my kind are involved in it. I'd rather not be, to tell the truth. But as alpha I am forced to take a stand. I've never really had anything against the vampires; they've never harmed anyone in my pack. Politically speaking, though, I must campaign against them. Being without a mate as I am, I cannot pick my battles--yet. I cannot stand alone in my desire to end this war, so I must accede to the greater wishes of the loupcour, the governing body of werewolves.

Werewolves, you say. No such thing. Since you cannot see me shift at this moment, you will have to believe me. Shake your head as you wish, but I could tell you it is what you could become. I was once as human as you. Shifting is a disease, a mutation passed on in violent contact with a shapechanger. Some people have natural immunity to it; others choose to let the virus take hold. Others, like me, were forced into it...but the one who did this to me would not be pleased to see the place he put me in: leader of his pack.

I was given the name Artemis by my people when I ascended to the alpha position. Who I was before is not really important; I had my share of human glory and pain a what seems a lifetime ago, even if it was only a few years ago. No one noted me then, no one but him: Sean Garrett made me what I am today, and I give you his name because it now means nothing but leaves on the wind.

But you want to know who I am. Here then, is my story...

*****

I met Sean Garrett in college, a few years ago. He wasn't the type of guy I usually go for; a loner and not too personable, which probably should have tipped me off. He was in one of my classes, Advanced Fiction III, sophomore year, and I'd catch him staring at me from time to time. He was good looking in a dark sort of way, so I let it slide. At the last party of my senior year, surrounded by friends (I didn't consider him one of them), he pulled me aside and asked if I had noticed anything strange happening on campus. As it turned out, I had; there had been several instances of students disappearing for a night, a weekend, without mentioning anything to their suitemates.

At first it was amusing that all these people would report a friend missing when it just turned out that they'd been visiting friends out of town or disappeared to the library for a long cram session. But it got to the point where it wasn't funny any more. When the Courier interviewed the last person, she said she had been at the library late, and got up to take a walk outside. She remembered walking to a bench in the Quad and falling asleep, and having some weird dreams, but nothing else. She accidentally spent the night on that bench, so she said. But no police saw her on patrols, and she had a jacket on when she left that was torn in a few places when she awoke. So yes, there had been some strange things going on.

I said as much, and he asked, "So how does that make you feel?"

Confused and startled I am not at my most articulate. "Feel? I don't know, confused, scared. It's weird. It sounds like something from a horror movie. But it's probably just coincidence."

"But don't you want to know about the dreams? I've seen your writing, I reviewed it. I know you like the dark side of things."

"What are you talking about? The students' dreams? How would you know anything about them?"

"They weren't dreams. They were real." He grabbed my arm, but I jerked away.

"Sean, you're starting to scare me. I don't know what you're talking about. They never said what the dreams were, and how do you even know about them?"

He looked at me, and put his hand up to my face. I turned away from the caress, but he traced a finger along my jaw, softly, but forcing me to face him nonetheless. "How did you know what it feels like to shift?"

I stared at him, defiant but puzzled. "I don't know what you mean, but this is not the way to my heart, Sean. You need to back up."

"How did you know the feeling of changing shape? You wrote it in your last assignment. Myths and Magic. 'A first-person fantasy quickie,' as Mr. Maserton called it. You knew. How did you know?" He was looking at me intently, with eyes brighter than they should have been, even if he was drunk. He was slowly pushing me toward the door, backing me up against the wall inexorably. He was strong, stronger than anyone his size should be, and I was no weakling; I ran and lifted weights. You'd have thought that at that moment I would have gotten out of there as soon as I could, but I couldn't think with him pushing me. It was like someone had slipped something into my drink, except that I hadn't drunk anything stronger than soda that night. Athlete in training, you know. And part of me wanted to know what he was talking about. He had really paid enough attention to my writing that he thought I knew...what?

"I have a very good imagination, Sean. And I'm imagining what I'd do to you if you don't stop messing with me. Let go." I glared at him with all the intensity I could muster; it didn't seem to have much effect. Or maybe it did--he released his hold on me, ever so slightly, enough that I could slip out of the circle of his arms. I edged toward the door, wondering if I'd be safer outside. All these people around me, and no one noticing a little harassment. Just my luck.

"You must know. You have to be the one. You were the one I was meant to find. 'The one who knows.' My dream. They all had the same dream, but you, you know. It will work with you." Those bright eyes were really glowing now, caught in the beams of light from a car pulling up to the house, but where they had been your ordinary brown eyes, they were amber--the kind of eyes you see on a wolf in those nature pictures. And suddenly that's what I saw in front of me. For a breathless moment, I saw him as other--and then I came back to myself, and yanked open the door, running into a car's high beams.

In that moment of blindness, when the world was white, I vaguely remember the sound of breaking glass and the dull thuds of my arms and legs hitting the wooden porch as I was pushed down the steps, and the oddest sense of flying. I know I must have been lifted, and carried like I weighed nothing. But in that moment, I was blind, and all I could hear were screams--and that curious feeling of moving through space far to fast for human comprehension.

When I came back to myself, I realized I was being carried over the shoulder of...something. Something man-shaped, but...furry? I touched the silvery fur with a finger, marvelling that my hand was hardly bouncing as the thing ran. The thing's gait was smooth, liquid. Some part of my brain wondered why I was so calm. Here I am, hefted over the shoulder of some wolf-man thing...did I really just say wolf-man?

All I could see was the ground, moving past me in such a blur I wasn't sure what I was truly seeing. The ground was fully illuminated by the full moon overhead, and I had plenty of time to appreciate the irony of strange things coming out with the full moon. It's called 'lunacy' for a reason, you know. Every now and then there would be a lurch and an almost sickening change of perception as the thing vaulted fences. It didn't run very far, really, perhaps not even a mile, until the moon was increasingly blocked by trees and it--he?--slowed.

My view of the fur darkened as more and more trees closed over us. Branches swept close, scratching my arms and back. Sharp twigs whipped across my back, drawing blood above my tank top. I felt the trickles down my neck, one drop falling to quiver in a shock of fur. I stared at it, appalled to see my own blood leaking out of my body.

I was thrown to the ground, roughly. The world went dark for a moment as his large body (was he that large before? Surely not) covered mine, soft chest hair rubbing my face and tickling my nose. Ignobly, I sneezed into the fur, and he leapt backwards in surprise. I got my first good look at...the wolf-man. He was tall, at least a foot taller than me, and covered in silver fur. My gaze travelled downward, and my eyes widened as I realized that being furry meant no clothes...

I felt my face flame as I looked away, but I couldn't keep my face averted. Something was drawing me back to his face--his almost human face. Look at me. However distored by the wolfish muzzle and amber eyes, Sean was staring back at me. Those eyes, those alien eyes, they drew me to my feet and closer, closer, to arm's length away before I realized what I was doing. No way did I want to be this close to some monster. Yes, I may have written some fantasy about changing my shape, but that was imagination. I didn't believe it could ever be reality.

You can imagine I experienced a major paradigm shift right there. One of the most fundamental things from my beliefs was suddenly proved false; fantasy became real. I didn't think it was a trick--how could it be a trick? I had felt the muscles move under the fur. Slowly, slowly, I backed away. Even my scientific mind couldn't cope with this. It was too much. Sean was just staring at me with those alien eyes, not moving, looking uncannily like a Greek statue gone wrong. Suddenly I couldn't move. He just held me with his eyes as he advanced, every movement graceful. It almost seemed slow motion when he reached out with a clawed finger and touched the trail of blood dripping past my collarbone."You're bleeding."

I blinked. He spoke! The voice was deep, growling, but human. It startled me out of my stupor, and I backed up again. I watched in a sick fascination as he licked the blood off his finger. "You're not a shifter. So how could you know?"

Those eyes held me. I couldn't look away. Of course, that meant that I was not looking at the ground as I retreated. I tripped over a dead branch and sprawled in the dirt. Sean leapt on top of me, but I scooted backwards until I could prop myself up on my elbows. I couldn't stand, not with him straddling my legs. I tried to keep my voice level, but there was still a tremor as I asked, "Know what?" Obviously, his body was happy to be there.

"They told me to find the one who knows without knowing. The one that can save me. The dreamer. That's why I had to take all those people. They were dreamers: you can smell it. But none of them knew. You know, but you've never done it. How did you know? Do you have the dreams?" He leaned close to my neck, breathing the last words. The deep voice sent shivers running through me, and humiliatingly, a rush of heat curling through my belly. I couldn't understand it any more than I understood what he was asking me. I gasped as I felt the smoothness of teeth at my throat. Sharp points closed gently but firmly around my windpipe, putting pressure on my carotids. I couldn't move because I knew a shake of his head could tear my own head off. For some reason he did not, just pressing hard enough to leave bruises and releasing me even as my vision was fading into darkness.

"I don't want to kill you. I just want your blood. It can make me better again," he said as he backed off, speaking as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

"My blood? What kind of a creature are you. God, get away from me! Let me up!" I scrambled backwards, hitching up against a tree and using it as leverage to stand. I stared into those amber eyes and felt myself slowly falling into them. I couldn't have moved even if I hadn't had the tree at my back. He moved closer, sort of a gliding stride, graceful in a way that no human could be.

"Come, you know that already. You've written about me. You don't believe what your eyes tell you?" That voice, low and husky, cut through my fear, reminding me about why I hadn't cared that Sean was interested in me. Some compulsion pulled my eyes to his again, and for a second I saw the wolf he could be superimposed over his current form. And I knew. God help me, I knew. A werewolf. That's what he was asking. How did I know what it was like to become a werewolf? And this one wanted my blood. To save him, no less. What's one human body against that?

He placed clawed hands on either side of my head. He looked down at me, looking for all the world like a dog sniffing the air for interesting scents. I bet I was one. He leaned his muzzled jaw on my shoulder, rubbing his fur along my neck. I couldn't help it; I gasped, almost in pleasure. The neck is one of my hot spots. Kiss me on the neck and I'm gone. And he could feel it.

"Lust, my dear? I thought you had better control than that." He lightly swiped his tongue across the drying blood on my shoulder. I shuddered, tossing my head to escape the sensation.

"Leave me alone, you freak." I spit it out between clenched teeth, dreading what he would do next, but wanting to know what he would do next. He leaned into my neck again, stirring the tiny hairs there. His teeth closed gently and the joining of neck and shoulder, and I nearly screamed. Half in terror, and half...I didn't want to think what.

"A freak, am I? I'm not the one shivering in pleasure at the touch of teeth." I could feel the wolfish lips curl in a mockery of a smile. "You want this, don't you. I can feel it. You want to know what I'm going to do, and you can't stand not knowing. You can't resist it--you have to know." He laughed harshly, his breath tickling my ear. And suddenly, he was gone, the loss of his warmth leaving goosebumps to prickle my arms in the late spring evening.

I reached behind me, touching the tree's rough bark, needing a solid presence. I searched the woods for the wolfman form, but the shadows defeated me. Nobody could move that fast. Nobody human, anyway. I reached a hand to my neck, where Sean had bitten me. It was tender, and I pulled away quickly when I touched the dried blood and saliva. Not a dream, then. But when had I thought it wasn't?

When nothing came at me from the trees, I sank to my knees, then folded against the roots of the tree. I tried to think logically. A strange time for it, maybe, but being logical had always helped me when I was in a jam before. Sean wanted my blood. Why myblood? Why not any of those other missing people, if that's truly what happened? He just wanted blood, and not my body? Was he going to make me like him? A...werewolf?

Too many questions. But if he was gone, if there was some way to get out of here, I had to take it. I got up slowly, searching the darkness under the trees for any sign of him. I didn't see anything, but that really didn't mean anything, right? Dogs can see much better in the dark. And besides, he could smell me. I began to run in the direction I thought we had come from, but I wasn't quite sure where to go. After all, I spent the journey here tossed over Sean's shoulder.

A shadow loomed over me. I stopped and cowered, expecting to be gathered into Sean's strong, furry arms. I crouched there for a moment, hardly believing that nothing had happened. I looked up to see a large tree stretching its branches toward the ground. I let out a breath and tried to relax. At least I hadn't run into the tree.

I stood up and began running again. I thought some of the trees were looking familiar when my vision suddenly went black. I stopped, scared. It was if I was suddenly blind. I touched my face, and knew my eyes were open, but I could see nothing. Then, with a lurch, my vision came back, but it was not of the forest around me. It was colored in shades of blue and grey, the ground moving past in a blur. For a moment I was dizzy, knowing I was not running. And then I knew. I was seeing was Sean was seeing.

paws hitting the earth, scattering the dirt, claws digging into the mud

I shook my head, but I couldn't lose the vision. I could feel it, feel it as my paws gripped the turf and the muscles bunching in my arms, like it was truly me in that shape. I felt the wind in my fur, branches whipping my hide, and then a curious wrenching sensation, like my bones shifted inside my body. Suddenly I was looking at myself, Sean's massive wolf-man form towering at the other end of the clearing. I backed up to the tree I had almost run into. I closed my eyes, and his hold over my vision broke.

"You see what power you have? From sharing so little blood we already have a connection. You are who I've been looking for. The rest of your blood will make me whole again." He looked at me almost hungrily, as if I was nothing but a piece of meat. And I suppose I was.

"You're insane," I said, shakily. Insulting someone--something--that could kill you. Couldn't call me a coward. Stupid, but brave.

He snarled at me, curling his muzzle in what I thought was a smile. "And you are so much meat." He grinned wider as he saw my reaction to his words, nearly echoing my thoughts. "You're surprised I can gather your thoughts? I can take over your senses. Your words are right there on the surface." He walked towards me with that oddly graceful long-limbed gait. "Just like your blood."

He reached a clawed hand to my neck, tracing the path of the jugular. And before I could even cry out, he pressed a talon into the skin. I felt a warm trickle of blood welling around the wound. One hand flew to my neck as the other tried to hold Sean back as he leaned into me. Useless, I realized dully. He was too strong. He simply squeezed my right hand between our bodies and pulled the left from my neck, covered in blood. My blood.

"This could make you like me," he said, almost conversationally. "Sometimes a scratch is all that's needed, while others require more...forceful measures to become loucarai. You could be stronger than me, faster, perhaps. I am the alpha, the best, and the beast is powerful in me. Giving you this gift, well, you could be even more powerful. You've felt it, this power, you know what it feels like when I made you see as I do. And I can feel the pain going away already. Your blood is that strong." He took a step back, but it was no retreat. The hand that had been trapped between us he captured with his left hand. His other hand brought my blood-covered palm to his mouth, scraping a too-long tongue across it. I nearly screamed. I say nearly, for the hand that had held mine immobile was now covering my mouth. I settled for a muffled whimper.

Then I realized I had a hand free. Silently thanking whoever had organized those seemingly useless self-defense seminars freshman year, I drove the heel of my hand up into his muzzle. Blood bloomed across his altered face even as pain radiated through my hand. I could feel the blood begin to flow from my palm; I'd cut it on his teeth. I blinked as the spray of his blood hit my face, but some got in my eyes. It splashed across my face in a viscous mass. I breathed in blood, I inhaled it through my mouth and choked. It was warm, metallic, sliding down my throat like dirty wine. I coughed violently, almost wanting to throw up. Swallowing blood was not high on my to-do list. It hit my stomach like lead, or maybe that was Sean punching me, and I crashed to my knees. So much for getting away. I looked up into what should have been a broken...muzzle, only to see the tissue knit itself before my eyes. He knelt before me, and took my hands from my heaving belly and into his taloned ones.

"I admire your spirit. But you would have to do much more to incapacitate me as such a blow would do to a human. You see, every time we shift it is like breaking every bone in the body, tearing every muscle, then mending it in a new, different way. It happens so quickly that it does not hurt...all but the first few times. So ordinary injuries are easy to allay. But then, you might learn that soon. You have my blood in you. I can hear your heartbeat," he said as he placed a clawed hand on my chest, "and soon you shall hear mine, beating in your head. For we will always be connected, until death."

I shook my head, wildly, thinking to deny his words, when I realized it was true. Faint at first, then like a drum suddenly unmuffled, his heartbeat thundered in my ears. Pulling mine along with it. I pushed away from him, spinning to avoid the tree, rising to run, but somehow my legs didn't work. I collapsed back onto my knees, clapping my hands to my ears, trying to stop the sound of the heartbeat. My own labored at counterpoint, my chest tight with a need I didn't understand. I could feel Sean moving at my back, my awareness of his presence painfully sharp. I doubled over, rocking, hugging my chest. Blood dripped from my neck onto my forearms and I had a sudden desire to lick it off, the sweet metallic tang already strong on my tongue. Then I realized I was channelling Sean's thoughts again. I shook my head as if that would make his intrusion go away.

His clawed hand was suddenly on my shoulder. I trembled at his touch, fear bubbling to the surface, masking other, baser feelings. He pulled me down until I was lying on my back. "I told you some require harsher means to submit to the change. You seem to be one of them, which is not surprising, given the power that your blood holds already. It's just one thing, to make it easier on the both of us. But I must ask you first. Will you not offer yourself freely?"

I stared up at him, aghast. I shook my head as I began to sit up, only to be pushed back down. I tried again, and he moved around so he was facing me and placed a clawed foot on my chest. Unfortunately my weight training class hadn't included bench-pressing werewolf, so I was sadly overmatched. Didn't stop me from trying to get up, though.

He turned from me slightly so he was silhouetted in moonlight. I could see him thrust out an arm, and draw his other taloned hand across the outstretched arm. Open for me, he commanded. My mouth opened on its own accord, and he laid his wrist at my lips. More of his blood rushed into my mouth, and no matter how much I gagged and spit, some wound its way down my throat. He pulled his wrist away and began tearing at the waistband of my shorts. Too much to hope for that he'd bleed out like a human. A lassitude came over me, and I just didn't feel the need to struggle against him. Whatever powers in his blood, it could keep me still but it didn't keep my mind from raging. I could just summon enough energy to ask, "Why are you doing this to me?"

The plaintive note in my voice made him pause in his strangely methodical destruction of my clothes. "I'll take it one way or another. I need it," he said, almost as if reciting something. He looked askance at me, those glowing amber eyes seeming to encompass my sight. "You ask why. Don't you know? You said it yourself. I'm insane."

And he shoved his claws into my chest.

to be continued...