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*Bez Soznaniya Krasa* Mistik Refuge (BurningWillows & Georgie_Leech)

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A haven for supernaturals? Well that one was new. At least he already knew they were out there, although Taryn wasn't sure she could classify herself as one just yet.

"Background?" she replied with confusion when he asked for her background.
 
"Perhaps I should dissemble a little less, if you don't mind me being blunt. What sort of supernatural are you? I will confess to being quite curious about your vanishing act there."

"Of course, if you would prefer not to talk about it, I will understand. After all, what sort of haven would it be if I invaded your privacy?"
 
What kind of supernatural am I? Great question.

Taryn opted for honesty, "I have no idea. I haven't met anyone like me. That's not saying I knew many supernaturals. I think I met a witch once. Oh and then there is Jess, but I didn't know she was a dryad at the time. Oops..."

Why do I try to keep things private when I can't shut up?

"I don't know what I am," Taryn summarized, but she knew the conversation was quickly turning back to Jess.
 
Mor could hear the pain in her voice. "It must hurt, not knowing who you are, doesn't it?" He spoke softly. In contrast were his thoughts, which were racing. Another dryad, living in the city? And she knew me, somehow? I've only ever known the one; who is this Jess and why did she send this girl to me? If what Miss Taryn says is true, that she was killed and this was her last message, it must be more than just me helping her in a therapeutic sense...
 
Taryn shook her head, "It doesn't bother me much anymore. It was a pain as a teenager. I think...I guess you want to talk about Jess now? It is why I came here."

She looked down at the papers in her hand, "She wanted me to tell you Oriaen...I don't have a clue who that is. Maybe she hoped you would figure that out. But...I was also hoping you would know something about this."

She handed over the papers to him, her breath hitching as she let them go. She knew the gravity of entrusting him with all this, and she hoped he understood too.
 
Mor rifled through the pages, glancing through the lists. Most of it meant nothing to him. He could understand the names, of course, but they were invariably paired with odd abbreviations and strings of numbers without any apparent pattern to them. Newspaper clippings about some of the recent killings in the greater Toronto area were interspersed haphazardly throughout. Some were calling it the work of a serial killer, though Mor sided with the less hysterical point of view that it was unfortunate coincidences. Aside from serial killers usually not altering their MO for pathological reasons, there wasn't anything obvious linking any of the victims together. This made the idea of revenge killings or some sort of crusade also unlikely.

The hastily scribbled notes at the end of the sheaf further suggested to Mor that, rather than something important, this was the product of someone in the throes of a conspiracy theory. Not something altogether unusual for the supernatural community, who frequently were persecuted for one reason or anther, but not ultimately that significant. Perhaps a part of this Jess realised that she was becoming paranoid, and sought help. A dryad would certainly feel at home out here. She wouldn't trust a complete stranger, but a close friend could judge and evaluate my trustworthiness. It's unfortunate that she was killed before she could get her. Perhaps Miss Taryn found these notes afterwards and, grasping for some meaning in her friend's death, thought or hoped there was something significant in them.

"Miss Taryn, I'm af-" One of the names on the page caught his attention and he changed what he was going to say. "Er, if it's alright, I'd like to take few minutes to check something before I comment."

WW Ryan Kol 04 20 14.

Mor brought out a newspaper from a small pile that he'd been using to keep older papers out of the way until he had enough to merit a trip to the recycling depot, then turned to the file cabinets. He had a brief sense of guilt which he quickly suppressed. I'm not pulling these notes out to do research, I'm just checking a hunch using info I already have. This isn't breaking the promise, and I'll put them right back again anyway. Mor's organisation habits made the research notes on werewolves easy to find. He pulled out the obituary page in the newspaper that had tickled his memory, one for a Ryan Kol. He crosschecked the obituary's description against his notes. It ran like an itemised checklist of what previous research had shown was the average Human-to-Wolf were's. The loner attitude, the gruff nature, a fondness for facial hair, not being seen for days at a time, especially around the full moon. Even the affinity for canines; the obituary said, in lieu of flowers, to donate to the local dog shelter. Could "WW" be for Werewolf? What about the others?

He found an entrant marked with V. Vampire? He pulled out the paper containing her obituary. Nightshift, worked alone; pale complexion; unusually piercing gaze that even the photo partially captured. W matched up to witchy qualities. Though they tended to show more variety than most, an entry marked HD-L showed a number of qualities possessed by some types of Half-Demons.

Abruptly, Mor realised what he was looking at. Could all of the victims have been supernatural? That can't be a coincidence; the community is just too small when compared to the general population. It implies that there is in fact a serial killer, and a frighteningly effective one at that. Such a commonality suggests one not motivated solely by a desire to kill, but by a crusade-like mentality. Or perhaps more accurately, like the witch-hunts. The scope and speed of the killings implies either someone very well connected, or someone very dangerous; they gathered a lot of disparate data to ID their victims so reliably.

A dark thought crossed Mor's mind that such information could look a lot like what he was holding, but he shook it off. If she was connected to the murderer in some way, she wouldn't just hand me these out of the blue. It seems more likely that her friend caught on, but was silenced, or perhaps unfortunately was next in the killer's sights, before she could do anything.

Mor shook his head. For better or worse, he was getting pulled into this. A strange girl, sent by someone who claims to have known him; a serial killer on the loose. Mor had a feeling that his life was about to get very complicated very quickly.

"This is... it's a lot to take in," Mor said noncommittally. For now, he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it all.
 
Taryn watched nervously as he read the papers, then turned to his own papers for help, and then went back to checking her papers. She started tapping her foot lightly on the ground to keep from pacing the room.

We he finally did finish his words were not encouraging.

"I know it is a lot to take in," Taryn sighed, "I spent a whole night trying to wrap my head around it all. But it is true. Looks at the logic behind it all, look at everything she gathered. This...this had to be what killed her. And the only name she left for me is yours. I don't know if she has other friend's or a family but all I have to go on is this."

"Please," Taryn continued when she could see he was still struggling to understand everything, "I know you aren't a cop, or a private investigator, but I have no one else to turn to. I don't know who to go to, or what to do next. If you can't...or won't...help me, can you at least send me in the direction of someone who can? A...a private investigator, or tracker, or something. Someone who you trust that can help me. Please Dr. Mor."
 
Mor ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He had every reason to send the girl away. He owed her nothing. He wasn't an investigator, or a cop; he couldn't do anything that anyone on the street couldn't. Getting involved with a serial killer in any way would be insanely dangerous, even if they hadn't proven they could take on supernatural creatures with strange powers. Sticking his nose in would be a good way of getting killed. Belua had taught him that sometimes, you couldn't save everyone, and you had to protect yourself.

But how I can ask her to face it alone? I could never look at myself in the mirror if I turned away from her, not when she needs my help this badly. Mor stared a moment at a picture of himself on the wall. He was standing beside a freshly planted tree, dirt on his hands, a smile on his face. Embossed on the frame: "Mistik Refuge: for those that need it most."

"I don't know what help I can truly give, miss Taryn, but for what it's worth, you have my word that I will do what I can."
 
Taryn hadn't noticed she had been holding her breath. When he spoke she finally let out a relieved sigh, her body instantly relaxing a little more. She wasn't sure if she would get anywhere with this doctor today. She knew nothing about him, or if he could be trusted. She was going on Jess' word alone.

But he was still putting his own trust to the test with her, agreeing to help. That said a lot. If he is going to help, the truth will come out sooner or later. He's going to ask about my powers again, they all do. Am I ready?

"Thank you. I, I don't know what step to take first...but having help takes a lot off me. And I think I already found something."

She got up and moved towards his desk, spreading the papers sitting there till she found one with the names and strings of numbers, "I think there might be a pattern. But only with werewolves. Look...the first kill was a young werewolf and then three kills later there was another, uh, Ryan. It's the only species he's killed twice in. And each kill happened really close to the full moon, something that pulls even the most introverted werewolf out of his hidy hole. Otherwise the rest are randomized, but if I'm correct on this, than next week he is going to kill a werewolf, closer to the full moon."

"However," she continued, still uncertain, "There really isn't any other evidence to prove there is a pattern, and this asshole doesn't seem to have any signatures, or preferred s-styles. All the deaths were different, some looking like suicides and other looking like minor kills. I don't know how Jess figured out that they were all supernatural, but it is the only thing tying them together."

~

He had grown impatient. His list was long, and waiting till the week after to kill just seemed a waste of time. So he picked an easy target. A Nephilim, with no more powers than a mere human. But the title was there, and the kill was going to e an easy one. It only took him a few minutes to break into the apartment. Another few to find a closest to hide in and wait. How he hated to wait.

There. The Nephilim was coming in. It was a petite female, with raven black hair the was pulled into a high ponytail showing off her blue eyes. He couldn't wait to see those eyes scream with death. But he had to wait. Wait until her back was turned. He tightened the rope between his hands, looping it between his fingers. She was coming to the closest...getting closer. Closer. She swung open the doors and he lunged, tackling her to the ground. Her scream was muffled by the sudden rope wrapped around her throat. She kicked out blindly, pushing at him with her arms. He stifled a smile when she spat in his face. Her fingers clawed into his skin, and he admired her resilience.

And suddenly her knee found contact with his groin, smashing into it and sending tears to his eyes. His grip loosened only a fraction but the intake of air was all she needed, and she sent her palm into his jaw, thrusting it upwards and away. He rolled off her, growling as he tried to stand and lunge at her again, only falling forward though and barreling into the front door where she was trying to escape. She quickly backtracked into her living room and he followed her. Things started flying at him, and he dodged the lamp and the phone book before crouching behind the couch as she tossed a vase at him. She hadn't screamed, or called for help yet, and he wanted to know why. But 'whys' weren't part of his game, and he was growing tired of dodging her assaults. Stepping out from behind the couch, he dodged a glass plate flying at his head and saumersalted towards her, popping up directly in front of her and grabbing her by the arms, twisting her so her back was against him and wrapping the rope around her neck again. She struggled once more, but he was prepared this time. She threw her weight into him and he stumbled into the wall, but still held on.

Finally with one final act of strength, she flung herself forward knocking them both into the wall. His grip stayed tight and her body began to slack, until finally she crumpled and he let her fall, tossing the rope down with her and strolling out. Let the cops try to figure this one out.
 
Another werewolf. That couldn't be Nina, could it? Mor quickly dismissed the thought. It was natural enough to worry about her, but aside from the fact that she could take care of herself, there wasn't anything to suggest she was the intended victim, if there was in fact a pattern. More likely is that it was one he didn't know about yet.

Mor turned his attention back to the cryptic numbers. "It is pretty incredible that Jess managed to piece this together, from such varied data. I wish we had had a chance to talk. Are you sure you have all of this?" He waved the papers in demonstration. "I'm not doubting you, it's just that it will be hard enough to understand what this all means with everything in front of us; missing information will make it all but impossible."
 
"I..." Taryn paused and tried again, "I don't know. Once I found her laptop I stopped looking, and then I had to leave in a rush so I never took a second glance around."

She left out the mysterious man in the apartment, for the time being. It could have been anyone, and she didn't want to raise more suspicions.

"Do you think it would be wise to go back and look?"
 
Taryn nodded, "I have her spare keys in my purse. I can go alone though if you like. I know this is...I mean you don't have to - I don't want to ask too much of you."
 
Mor shook his head. "I wouldn't ask you to do this alone. It must be hard enough to think about her death, let alone searching through her house. I just hope bureaucracy is working in our favor and the banks and government haven't reposed her things. After all, I imagine a dryad didn't exactly have a registered last will and testament." Mor stood up and held the door open to the stairs. "After you, Miss Taryn."
 
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Taryn picked up her bag, and stuffed the papers and laptop in as she passed Dr. Mor. She followed the stairs back up into the main lobby, pausing to wait for Dr. Mor to catch up.

"We can use my car. I'll drive you back afterwards," Taryn offered as he led them out the front doors.

~~

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Nina was cross-legged on the floor, her hands covered in charcoal as she finished her artwork when she caught Drew's voice from the other room. He was talking to the girl still, who was offering to drive them both into town. Putting the almost finished canvas on an easel, she threw her remaining charcoal in a small bucket on the table full of them and quickly washed her hands in a larger bucket of soapy water. Hurriedly she rushed out of the refuge, catching site of Drew and the girl getting into a vehicle. There wasn't any time to ask him where he was going. But he never said his sessions would involve going into town.

Katerina had a sick feeling in her stomach that he was getting himself into trouble, and she looked around desperately for a way to follow him. She had no vehicle, and the only other way was by...foot.

Nina rushed into the trees, tossing her clothes off as she moved farther into the trees. She hit the ground with a wrenching in her spine as her whole body convulsed. She pushed on, trying to speed up her Change. If she wasn't quick enough she'd lose them.
 
Mor had intended to let Nina know where he was going. Though he wasn't completely clear on why, he knew she looked up to him in some ways and he didn't want to just leave her alone without saying something. When he saw her engrossed in her art though, he couldn't interrupt her. He decided to instead leave a note for her, so she knew he would be back shortly, with Miss Jones. It must have been so long since she had a few peaceful moments, where she doesn't need to worry about anything. I can let her have that, at least.

Mor didn't anticipate an eventful drive. He occupied himself with sorting through what he knew of different supernaturals with vanishing powers, in case Taryn asked about it. There wasn't much useful he could think of though. Too many myths have supernaturals that vanish at-will or when frightened as a defining feature. If I consider types that can potentially have such an ability, on top of those defined by such a talent... There's too much variety. I need to know more about how she does it, as well as anything else she can do.
 
Katerina was lucky to catch up to the woman's car as it exited onto the highway. Nina stuck to the border of the trees, running alongside the highway to keep up with Drew. They were going back into Toronto, posing a new challenge for her. She could follow them, but she would lose the safety of the forest. She was small enough to pass as a dog, and as they entered the city limits she bounded out of the trees, running along the very edge of the asphalt only a few cars behind the one Drew was in. When they took a right she followed, ignoring the gasps of people as passed them on the sidewalk.

The wove their way through the trees, and Nina's legs began to ache when they took another left. Her paws felt cracked and sore from the hot concrete under her, and her long fur felt overly warm with the sun beating down on her.

Finally the woman turned down a smaller road and into an underground parking lot under a fair sized apartment structure. Nina couldn't follow into the parking lot so she went around towards the back door and found a low spot under a bush near the alleyway. She was hidden away, safe from prying eyes, and she could see the sidewalk in front of the building from her vantage point. If they left, she would notice, and if they came out the back, she'd see that too. If Drew needed her, she was here. All she had left to do was wait.
 
Mor was shaken out of his reverie by Taryn's quiet "We're here." They were in front of an apartment building of middling size, neither small nor overly large. It seemed relatively well kept, with clean windows and a general lack of litter, though Mor noticed the building itself was quite weathered, and the planters outside were completely empty. He suspected that the manager probably maintained the building out of a sense of it being his job, rather than any actual care for the apartment.

The inside reinforced this impression. After Taryn let them in with a key, the first thing Mor noticed were the old, fading carpets and simple furniture in the lobby. The walls were a drab beige, perfect for hiding dust. A ceiling fan spun slowly, under light fixtures that gave an impression of cheapness rather than simplicity. A plant in the corner had the stiff look that told Mor it was artificial.

Mor usually preferred the stairs, but Taryn went straight for the pair of elevators on the far wall, so he followed. He noticed the rather stiff way she was walking, and how her eyes stayed fixed to the elevators, and once they were on board, the floor buttons. "This must be difficult for you. Are you alright?" Mor asked softly.
 
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"Fine," Taryn bit out, clenching her hand tightly till her knuckles turned white, "What are we looking for again?"

The doors opened and Taryn vaguely heard Dr. Mor's answer as she strode down the hall, intent on wasting little time. The key in her hand felt hot, and it reminded her that Jess had left a lot of trust in her when she had given Taryn the key only a week before. Like she knew this was going to happen.

The idea struck her cold and her gut sank farther, putting another puzzle piece together. The key and the goodbye note...

Jess had known.

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Waiting wasn't a wolf's strong suit, as Nina was realizing only a few minutes into hiding under her bush. But there was little else to do. She tucked her tail around her side, to make sure no passerbys could see her white fur amongst the green and lay her muzzle on her paws, hoping whatever reasons Drew was here wouldn't take all night.
 
"We're just here to make sure you have all of the papers, or anything else we can find on what Jess uncovered." Mor waited patiently. He knew that this would be difficult for Taryn, but he could also sense a core of strength that wouldn't let her leave this alone. Taryn would make it through this, though it would be agonising along the way. He watched quietly as she stood in front of a door, the hand that held the key shaking. His heart went out to her, but Mor knew she had to do this for herself, so said nothing.
 
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​
It seemed harder this time to open the door. Slower to walk in. Taryn knew Dr. Mor would think she was shaking because she missed Jess. Because every inch of her apartment reminded her of the only friend she had who died, and worse yet knew she was going to die and didn't try to stop it.

But her hands shook for more than her last shred of family torn from her. Her body ached to turn to shadows and hide, well aware that the last time she was in here she wasn't alone. Before she searched she did a quick sweep of the condo, making sure they were, indeed, alone. Than she closed the door and locked it, breathing heavily. Dr. Mor would think it was nerves for Jess, and she didn't feel like correcting him. This was her struggle, her constant turmoil with powers she didn't understand. It pulled her to disappear and she fought it, focusing on a picture of Jess hanging on the wall beside her front door.

When her nerves had settled she looked around. The front door led into an open living room with an ensemble kitchen. The only areas cut off by walls were the bathroom and bedroom. There was a screen door to the left of the small kitchen that led onto a balcony. The room itself was mostly bare, with only the bare essentials: a brown couch, a old t.v on a stand, and a worn coffee table between the couch and t.v. The kitchen was the same, the counters bare, everything looking ten years old. Jess didn't own anything new except her laptop.

They got to work stifling through drawers, and reading everything carefully. Most of what Taryn found was junk. The only readable material was a copy of Midsummer's Nights Dream hiding under the coffee table that Taryn scooped up. The bathroom held nothing important, and Taryn first sweep of the bedroom days before was thorough.

"She couldn't have left us nothing," Taryn breathed, flipping through the pages of Shakespeare in her hand absent-mindedly.

When Dr. Mor joined her in the bedroom she handed the play over to him, so that she could search under the bed, "At least she had a taste in writing. Not that it helps us now."

Dr. Mor was oddly quiet as she searched under the bed and she looked up from her spot lying on the floor at him, "Everything alright?"

But he didn't have time to respond when there was a sudden shrieking noise that rang down the street, and then a louder, shriller scream of an animal in pain.

Taryn jumped up and bolted out of the room, yelling at Dr. Mor to keep up. The screams sounded again, louder as they hit the buildings hallways. No time to wait for the elevators, Taryn hit the stairwell door running, not slowing as she took the steps two at a time.

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Her nose caught a musky scent as the wind blew past her and she sniffed loudly, catching the hint of human. She was downwind though so whoever was approaching wouldn't catch the scent of her. Not that they would, Nina reminded herself with a toothy grin, Unless they aren't human either. What's the chances of that?

Her response came quite quickly as two hands gripped her hind legs and ripped her out of the bush, making her yip in pain. She twisted her body towards her assailant, catching the musky smell again as it filled her lungs. Whoever he was he wore a ball cap hat low over his eyes to shield his face, but she could see the white of his teeth as he grinned at her, pulling harder on her hind legs. He wore a navy blue sweater, dark pants, and combat boots, completely hiding his frame. She snarled and lashed out at him, breaking free and jumping back before he could reach for her again.

He lunged and she danced around him, keeping her distance. He kept crouched, standing on the balls of his feet so he could pounce when needed. His attack mode surprised her, as most humans fled when they saw a wolf. They didn't stick around waiting for a fight, especially when she had the upper hand of teeth and claws. That's when she noticed the short knife in his right hand, glinting in the sun.

Now it was a fairer fight.

He lunged again and she danced to the left, jumping over him and twisting back to bite down on his right wrist. He snarled, something that sounded neither human nor friendly and grabbed her neck with his free hand, throwing her down. She struggled under his weight, afraid to let go of his wrist. His fist hit her side and she almost let go, tears filling her eyes. Katerina dug her teeth down as hard as she could, and ripped away, leaving his wrist in a bloody mess. He screamed and fell back, clutching his arm to his side. She turned to him to growl in warning and found herself being hit by his full force, knocking her senseless to the ground. He stumbled away, searching for his dropped knife as she blinked several times and shook her head as she rose to her feet.

"Stupid wolf girl!" the man snarled, raising his knife and running at her. She feigned left and bolted to the right, barely missing the knife as it swiped through the air. He was quick to turn and run at her again and she feigned right this time, moving left at the last second. Except he did too, and his knife connecting, burying through her fur and digging itself between two of her ribs. She let out a shrill scream, falling over sideways and kicking at him, the pain unbearable. He pulled the knife out with his only good hand and sliced through the air again, but she dodged it by rolling out of the way, setting her body on fire. He growled and lurched to his feet, stumbling towards her. He was covered in his own blood and so was the ground around them. Katerina's own blood was quickly mixing with his in the dirt, the stench surrounding them.

She had no strength the stand with her wound, so she lay her head down and closed her eyes, listening as his footsteps reached her. He nudged her with his boot once, then stilled. She waited. He nudged her again. She waited until he breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eyes wide, using the last of her strength to sink her teeth around his calf and shook, digging her sharp teeth as deep as she could into his muscles. He screamed in pain and she ripped away, taking flesh and muscle away with her. His screams got louder and he stumbled away as she did the same. She made it halfway around the apartment when she collapsed again, her blood loss making her vision blurry. She couldn't see if the attacker was following her, but his cries had gone silent, even as she continued to groan and mewl in pain.

~~

He made it to his vehicle before he fell into the driver's seat. His blood was all over that alley, and he knew he needed to go back and clean it up before the police arrived. That stupid bitch had taken two good chunks out of him. She hadn't been on his list, but he couldn't pass an opportunity to take out another werewolf. Except the opportunity had more guts than any of his other kills. If she wasn't dead yet, she would be soon. Her blood littered the dirt behind the apartment too.

He estimated how long the police would take to arrive, as he wrapped bandages around his wounds. Give it an hour, and that bitch would either be gone or dead. Then he could clean up and move on.
 
Putting Taryn's troubles aside for the moment, Mor glanced around the sparse apartment that she had led him to. There wasn't a lot to take in. The rooms were sparsely decorated; a few pictures on the walls, old furniture that looked to be second-hand. Oddly for a dryad, there were no plants. He hardly expected to find a fully grown birch or something, but most dryads preferred to be surrounded by greenery. Mor suspected it helped make them feel at home, when they made the rare forays into urban settings.

Taryn began rifling through some of the drawers in a desk, so he did the same. He checked everything carefully, but most was uninteresting. Much of it seemed to be various magazines and newspapers. The personal documents they found seemed normal, like insurance information, a basic budget, a grocery list or two. Jess had apparently really taken to city life, as most supernaturals lacked such... mundanities.

Taryn handed Mor a copy of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream as they entered the bedroom, which he flipped through. It looked to be well-read, if the dog ears and notes scribbled next to some of the lines were any indication. Jess seemed to be quite the reader, actually. In contrast to the understated furnishings, the bedroom held a book case with an astonishing variety of subjects. Romances, Science Fiction, Comedies, Horror stories; anthologies of Shakespeare and mysteries and short stories; works on literature, on art, on philosophy, on religion, on science, on history.

This last piece helped the puzzle click. Jess must have been fascinated by humanity. Dryads were one of the Fey, the Faerie Kingdom, a part of the supernatural world that was remarkably close to human kind while still being "other." Amused by them, enraged by them, adoration, lust, love... Whatever they felt about humans, faeries tended to feel strongly. It was enough to shape what were predominantly nature spirits in humanoid forms. They were even one of the few "spirit" types capable of interbreeding with humans, to a point, which Mor knew all too well.

Abruptly, Mor felt how empty the apartment was. Jess had been a living, breathing person, with hopes and dreams, worries and fears. A life with history, and depth, and thoughts and experiences all her own. Never again would she laugh at the antics of Puck as he plays tricks on the hapless Bottom, or hold her breath as Sherlock closed in on the solution to his latest mystery, or sigh longingly as smoky eyes gazed out across the sea, waiting for their lover's return. All that had been cut short.

Mor was shaken by the louds shrieks from outside. He had no time to react before Taryn was pulling him outside and down the stairs. Rushing to the other side of the building, where the screams had come from, Mor was shocked to see a snowy white wolf lying in the street, red staining its fur as it panted and whimpered in pain. It looked at him briefly, and his heart nearly stopped. Nina. What on earth was she doing there? What had happened? Mor rushed passed Taryn to Nina's side, and Mor finally noticed the deep slash along her torso, running between her ribs. The sight of it made him want to throw up. Mor had never been good at the sight of blood. He was all she had though, so he muscled through his revulsion.

"Go back inside and find a first aid kit!" Mor shouted back at Taryn. "There's probably one in the bathroom. Hurry!" He started examining Nina, recalling his medical and emergency first aid training. He cursed the fact that werewolves were one of the transforming species of supernatural whose injuries remained between forms.

Fortunately, though the wound was deep, it was relatively clean and it hadn't gone deep enough to puncture a lung. Nina would bleed out if Mor didn't do something quickly though. He tore off his jacket and fumbled at removing the inner cotton lining. Out of one of the pockets of his vest, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. He had picked up the habit of carrying a pair long ago, and he was glad he had. Suppressing the urge to vomit, he moved the edges of the cut together, making Nina yelp in pain. He spoke softly: "You're going to be okay. I'm going to stop the bleeding, and we'll get you somewhere you can be treated fully." He placed the lining over the wound and applied pressure, drawing out another yelp. He hoped Taryn found a first aid kit quickly; without proper bandages, gauze, and disinfectant, there was little Mor could do.
 
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He's here. He heard me. Oh thank go he's here. What...Ow Drew! Ow! What are you doing? Where's the girl gone? Ow. Drew...Drew there's a guy here. God, why can't you here me? So much pain...make it stop. Help me. No, help us. Get us out of here. Yes, moving. We are moving...

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Taryn took Dr. Mor's orders and raced back into the building, lunging up the stairs as quickly as her shoes would let her. She stormed through the hallway, bashing open Jess' door with her shoulder just as the key unlocked it. Bathroom, Taryn had seen a small first aid kit in the cupboard under the sink. She found it, holding it close to her chest and tore back out.

She found Dr. Mor trying to stop the bleeding and fell to her knees beside him. She fumbled open the first aid kit and moved back, letting him work.

Do you...know that dog?" Taryn asked, her eyes unable to look away from the blood.
 
Mor saw Taryn backing off after she handed him the kit, but he impatiently called her closer. "Here, keep pressure on this while I get the things I need out." Mor pulled out the scissors, some gauze, medical tape, bandages, a small water bottle, and some disinfectant. "Here, you can let up now." After she had backed away, Mor lifted the lining away and used the water to wash away some of the blood from the fur around the wound, to stop the scissors from sticking in it. As he cut some of the fur away, he explained. "She's a wolf, actually." Now that he had more direct access, he cleaned the wound with the disinfectant. "Or to be more specific, a werewolf. You saw her earlier, in fact." He carefully packed gauze over and around the wound. "Put pressure on it again please. She was the girl that startled you earlier. This might hurt a bit Nina, but I need to lift you a bit." With great effort, he lifted her torso and head enough to prop her up against his leg. He wrapped the bandage around her, starting just below the gauze. "Lift, please." Once Taryn moved away, he continued winding the bandage around the wound, holding the gauze in place. "She must have followed us here, though I can't imagine why, and I have no idea what could have happened."

As he taped the bandage down, just in case, he had a sudden recollection. "If I'm correct on this, than next week he is going to kill a werewolf, closer to the full moon." She'd been attacked. For the first time, Mor noticed the blood around Nina's mouth couldn't have come from her wound, and the splatters of blood around them indicated there'd been a struggle. It suddenly became very important that they get her away from here, in case the attacker was still around. He looked around nervously. There were too many places someone could hide; in the vehicles, behind some trash bins, on a roof top. He spoke urgently. "Taryn, get the car and bring it around." He tried to look in every direction at once while he waited for her to return.
 
"A..a werewolf?" Taryn was shocked by that news, and more shocked that Dr. Mor knew it was his friend right away. When he told her to get the car she didn't hesitate, wondering if he was thinking the same thing she was.

There was a serial killer loose, with a pattern for killing werewolves near full moons. Was it that likely that this was a planned attack, or a mere 'wrong place, wrong time' scenario?

Taryn mused over that as she got the car and swung around the block, driving down the alley and stopping beside the narrow pathway between the apartment building and the next, jumping out instead of honking. She helped Dr. Mor lift her into the back seat of the car, careful to lay her in a comfortable position. They both jumped into their own designated seats and Taryn slowly drove out of the alley, trying to calm her ragged breathing, "Will she be okay?"
 
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