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Chapter -5- The Gathering of Heroes

December 11 South Pacific ...

Conner dove to the tiled floor with a grunt. A volley of assault rifle rounds hissed over his head.

James got to his feet and dove into a study. "Get out of the hall, Conner!"

Conner rolled over, got to his feet and swung his cane outward. Bullets passed above and below it, narrowly missing the metal pole. "They're too far to eyeball where they're aiming!"

"They're aiming at us!" James said. He reached for Conner's wrist and pulled him through the door. "Stop trying to deflect their bullets. They're too far for that showy stuff!"

"That's basically what I just said," Conner grumbled.

"God, Joe Junior is pissed," said James. "Did you have to gloat about killing his father?"

"Yes!" Conner exclaimed. "He was going to nuke us! Yes he has one of those!"

"And bragging about his father's death will keep him from nuking us how?"

"It buys us time," Conner said. "Nuking the island was a way to get to the money beneath it. At that point, our deaths would have been collateral." Conner shoved the door shut and locked it. "But now they're chasing us with guns instead."

James sighed. "I understand - by telling him you killed his father, you made things personal. And by making it personal, he would rather chase us with a squad of gunmen."

"Exactly." Conner stepped back from the door. Several pelt marks took shape in the door, in conjunction to loud thumping. "This thing can withstand their high-power fifty-cal up close."

"But now we're trapped in here. If he gets fed up and impatient, he'll blow the island." James punched the wall. "Does he _really_have a nuke? Is it really here?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," Conner said in a soft tone. "I only told him about what I did because I thought he'd get emotional and want to chase us around the vault instead of blowing the place up."

"Yeah but the way you bragged - it's almost like you were saying you enjoyed doing that. It was still murder."

"It was self defense," Conner said.

"Not the way you made it sound when bragging to the guy's kid."

"I could have left him up there to rot. I made an unorthodox play okay?"

"You killed a man and made him suffer. You said you gloated to the man while watching the life drain out of his face. That's what you said when you were bragging to Joe Junior."

Conner dropped into a cushioned chair at the back of the study. "Yeah. Yeah, I said that stuff because that's how it happened."

"That's murder, Conner. Not self defense."

"He would have stabbed us in our backs if we let him live," Conner reasoned. "I had to. I'm not proud of what I did, man."

James sat on the study desk, watching the locked door. "I'm not sure anymore. I think you actually are."

"Come on, Uncle Jaye. The guy and his son brought a nuclear bomb out here. You think they care about letting either of us live in the end?"

James glanced over his shoulder and frowned at Conner. "I'm more concerned that you're becoming them. Do you understand? You're above those two. Find a way to beat them without using your hook to rip out their throat, Conner. You're better than that."

A blast of flame burst through the wall adjacent to the doorframe. It slowly moved up.

Conner swallowed in silence.

"Well," James said in a soft voice, "They're using a blowtorch. It's only a matter of time and we're cornered in here."

Conner hurried to the far wall and opened the vault to the orichalcum chamber. "Come on, in here. They can't torch their way through a vault this thick."

"But will we be able to breathe in there?"

"For a few hours," Conner said. "Maybe they'll give up by then. It's our only chance. C'mon." He opened the vault door and gestured for James to step inside. Conner turned on the lights, stepped into the vault and closed the large, thick door behind himself.

The vault thudded shut and clicked. The door locked.

X

X

Meanwhile...

Sinopa Guillot stepped through the portal and emerged in a tent set up on beach sand.

She glanced over her shoulder at Tamamo and turned about, bowing in respect. "As I said to Jules, bon chance. It means 'good luck.' How do you plan to make your way to Earth without a host?"

Tamamo rubbed her chin. "I will find someone. Someone unassuming, resourceful, and who has access to all the information I will need to become useful."

"Very well. I ... will tell Conner you asked about him."

"Arigato." Tamamo faded from the mirror. Soon, only Sinopa's reflection remained.

She stood inside of a tent with a bunk in one corner, and a footlocker at the end. It was surprisingly free of sand fleas, something the island was typically known for.

She looked around the dwelling briefly. The four-tailed kitsune made her way out to the beach and paused.

There were trailers filled with equipment, weapons and mercenary gear. One of the trailers had cots on the walls. The area smelled heavily of insecticide, brought by the mercenaries.

"Thank heavens the head of the mercenary group is concerned with vanity," she mused, grateful to have had a mirror to pass through.

Sinopa approached the north-facing entrance to the vault.

The enormous entrance door was ajar. She pushed on it. The door swung with ease, perfectly balanced on its colossal hinges.

She stood in the large circular frame. Her shadow stretched into the hub room of the vault. Sinopa sniffed at the air. Her ears perked up, standing tall above her hair. She sniffed the air again.

Sinopa made her way towards the hallway that led to the common areas. She could smell the scent of sweat and gunpowder.

The hallway split into a fork. Standing at the intersection was a man who looked only vaguely familiar. She approached him and narrowed her gaze.

The man withdrew a handgun and pointed it at her. He narrowed his gaze and looked her over. "Tails and ears? So it's true ... you're the freak who married JC Parker."

"Do_not_ point that weapon at me," she replied in a stern voice.

He lowered the weapon, so that the barrel was lined up with her abdomen. Without further warning, he fired the gun.

Silence.

A wisp of smoke floated up from the flash suppression barrel.

Sinopa's ears lowered in annoyance from the irritating pitch of the silenced pistol discharge. Blood saturated the front of her gi. A trail of red ran vertically down the inside and stopped at her sash. Instead of spreading out, the ruby rivulet made only the single vertical line over her abdomen.

The man's eyes lifted, meeting her gaze. He lifted the gun, pointing it in her face. "What the fuck are you?"

Sinopa withdrew one of her tessen fans. The handle struck the inside of his wrist in a flash. She popped open the war fan, deflecting his weapon away.

The pistol discharged again, firing harmlessly into a nearby wall.

Sinopa snapped the fan shut, struck his wrist, opened it again, and used it to guide his arm away. The weapon fell to the floor, clattering on the tiles.

In a graceful series of maneuvers, she popped the fan shut again and brought it up, towards his neck.

The man moved with her, graceful and surprisingly elegant. He moved in the direction of her strike, narrowly avoiding it. He dropped to a crouch and struck her ankles with his leg, sweeping Sinopa to the floor.

Low to the floor, he picked up his pistol and stood back up in one quick maneuver.

She drew her knees to her chest and performed a kippup, landing square on her feet. "So, you are like my husband and children."

"Late husband," said the man. "Yeah, I know all about how Greg and Fara Watson were manipulated into killing JC Parker. My father was in on that. He helped put it all together."

Sinopa lifted her chin. "So you are Joseph Pendleton Jr., hmm? And you appear to be legal - excellent."

"Legal, huh? I wouldn't fuck some half-animal bitch like you anyhow, legal or otherwise. I'm not into bestiality."

Sinopa tilted her head. "I say 'legal' because it would be extremely disconcerting to kill a minor." She withdrew the Little Fox blade. It ignited with flames, crackling at first, and sending a few wayward sparks to the tiled floor. "Where is the nuclear weapon?"

"What? How the fuck did you know about that?"

"I am a deity, you child. Where is the weapon?"

"Oh, it's in place and ready to go off. I guarantee you won't stop it in time."

Sinopa grimaced. "A timer that only you control - I see." She sighed through her nose. "Well..."

"Deep subject. About as deep as the hole that's going to be where we're standing. I'll collect what's left. I figure the nuke does me two favors - it makes the gold accessible, and it blasts that shit into pieces so we can haul it."

"Or, I kill you and it stays hidden at the bottom of the Pacific."

"Whatever, bitch. The only thing that's going to be hidden at the bottom of the ocean is you and those two fucking bastards, hiding from my men."

"If you dare touch Conner..."

"That kid is going to die, dog lady. He killed my father."

"Seems just, considering your father helped to murder my husband. Why are you stalling for time?"

Joseph glanced down the hallway to where his men were working on breaking into the study. "I have my reasons." He cut his eyes back to Sinopa. "I like your sword. I look forward to taking it from you."

"You wish it?" She twirled it about and passed it to him, handle first. The flames roared along the blade.

Joseph eyed her with distrust. He took the handle from her. The fire extinguished from the blade.

Sinopa smiled. "By all means, ignite the weapon."

He tensed up but nothing happened. "Fuck it, I don't need fire to kill you." He swiped the weapon at her.

Sinopa opened her tessen in her other hand and used the metallic Japanese fan to deflect his attack. "You have sloppy technique. Did your father not teach you how to handle a sword?"

He lifted the gun again and fired. Sinopa anticipated the action and deflected the weapon with her fan. She snapped it shut and used the hilt of the handle to strike his wrist.

The pistol went to the floor again. He kicked her back and brought his left hand to the bottom of the sword. "I don't need a gun to kill you. I'll just take your head off. I'm pretty sure that will work."

"Will it?" she said with a mysterious smile. She withdrew her second tessen fan and slid it open. The metal blades deflected the sword.

She put her foot on the wall and propelled herself upwards. The sword passed beneath her in an empty horizontal swipe. She landed on her feet, facing away from him, and brought her elbow into his gut.

Joseph grunted, doubling forward. His forehead met one of her closed fans, leaving a rectangular welt on his forehead.

She brought the handle of the fan down on his right forearm and broke his wrist.

The sword fell to the floor, warbling along the blade from the way it landed.

"You fucking animal cunt bitch, I'm going to gut you."

Sinopa slid her foot beneath the blade and kicked it up, into the air. She shoved her tessen fans into her sash and in one smooth maneuver brought her hands out.

The sword handle met her palms. She pivoted on her right foot and spun in a circle. "Damare..." she exclaimed, spinning about aggressively.

Her sword blade reignited a split second before passing through his neck, out the other side. "...Konoyaroh!"

Joseph's severed head remained attached to his neck, cauterized by the heat of the flaming sword. He dropped to his left hip with his right arm splayed out in an unnatural way.

His legs trembled briefly. His half-lidded eyes became crooked, gazing off in two directions at once.

Sinopa sheathed the blade. The lack of oxygen, in the sheath, caused the fire to disappear with a hiss and evanescent steam around the parry.

The kitsune patted his body, looking for a controlling device to the nuclear weapon. Instead, she found only a timer counting backwards on his watch. She made note of the time remaining, drew his watch from his wrist and attached it to her sash.

Sinopa headed up the hallway towards men, who were rushing into a study room.

A man left in the hallway as a guard called to the other men. "There's someone coming!"

Several of the mercenaries flooded back out of the study and opened fire on Sinopa.

She relaxed her body and released the breath from her lungs. Bullets passed through her with a painful sting. She raised her left hand over her face as if to shield her eyes from sunlight or wind, but otherwise allowed them to fire upon her.

The psychological warfare tactic worked. The gunmen emptied their clips. By comparison, a mere two dozen rounds struck her body from the kickback of firing their weapons at full auto.

She withdrew her sword. The blade hissed to life, engulfed in a hot blue flame. She swiped at the closest mercenary, slicing through his assault rifle.

"Fall back!" one of the men shouted.

"The boss is dead!" said one of the others, seeing the body up the hall, behind Sinopa.

"Wait!" another cried. "Wait, wait!"

Sinopa twirled her sword in an expert display of fiery flair. "Make peace with your deity of choice."

"Wait!" the third mercenary repeated. "Look, what do you want?"

"The boy you're trying to kill is my grandson."

"He killed the man who signs our paychecks, lady!"

"And_I_ killed the other man willing to sign such. Leave."

"Lady, I..."

Sinopa narrowed her gaze. She slammed him up against the wall with her left forearm against his throat, and held her sword back, towards the other mercenaries in the hallway.

"We can't stop the bomb," said the man against the wall. "Only Pendleton had the disarming code. No one else knows it."

"I would rather this island go to the bottom of the ocean than for anyone to retrieve its contents." She pressed her wrist against this throat firmly.

"Look, lady, I got a family, too. Okay? And, and, we never signed up to shoot at children. We signed up to help a rich man infiltrate an island vault and, and, we ... and we're supposed to help pull metal ore out and load it. That's all. The kid killed this guy by ripping out his throat."

Sinopa's gaze constricted. Her pupils became vertical slits. She looked down at his gloved left hand. "Show me your hand. That one," she said, nodding down at his left.

He lifted his hand and pulled off the glove. He wore a ring on his finger. "Fuck! If you're going to kill me, then kill me! Nothing I say is going to change your mind and I'm not going to beg anymore! How am I even supposed to believe you're his _grand_mother? You look twenty-five! Just do whatever you're going to do already."

"Damare." Sinopa brought the handle of her sword against his forehead while keeping her left wrist against his throat. Between the strike and holding pressure against his neck, the man fainted.

She turned around and twirled the sword, bringing her left hand beneath her right on the handle.

X

X

In the Study Vault...

** "I hate being caged like an animal."** James turned to Conner. "I say we fight."

"We will," said Conner with a nod of agreement. "You know we will. I'm just buying time. Let these guys come in here." Conner pointed up at a slat in the ceiling. "That's a Plexiglas bullet shield. It can handle high caliber weapons repeatedly in the same place. Anything powerful enough to break through would hurt them too."

"What about the blowtorch they're using?"

"They'll be out of fuel by the time they get in here." Conner tapped his blood-stained cane against the vault door. "It's impressive. Best in class back when it was installed."

The door hissed with decompression. Light filtered in around the corners.

Conner stepped back, behind the slat in the ceiling. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. How did these fuckers figure this shit out?"

The door began to swing open, slowly.

James stepped back, adjacent to Conner but said nothing.

The door swung open and Sinopa stood in the doorway. She tilted her head, stared at the boys, and shook her head with a sigh. "Conner, it is disappointing to hear you speak with such vocabulary."

Conner's pupils dilated somewhat. The blood drained out of his face and he swallowed against the discomfort of constriction in his throat. "I ... I didn't know it would be you."

"Language does not make you a 'tough guy.' It is uncouth and classless." She sheathed her sword and gestured back towards the bodies strewn about the study. "Many of them are unconscious. We will bring them with us when we leave the island. It would be wise to have you program their navigation and delete any digital logs of the location of this island in their computers. We must hurry."

Conner swallowed again and feigned a smile. "Right, uhm. Gomen n..."

"Shh," she stepped forward and hugged him. "I am glad you are both well. Unfortunately we must leave immediately. We are running out of time. Gather only the most important things to salvage from the vault. Things that cannot be replaced, or that you wish the world not to find should they scavenge the ruins."

"What?"

Sinopa relinquished the hug. "There is a nuclear device in place. I took Joseph Pendleton's life. He planned to destroy the vault, no matter what. It would allow him to hunt for things on the bottom of the ocean and find what he wishes. We cannot stop this weapon. We must leave."

Conner swallowed. "The family will be broke."

"No. This family owns legitimate businesses, putting the Parker household in the 'one percent' without money from the vault."

Conner leaned against the vault hallway wall.

James turned to Conner and put his hands on the youth's shoulders. "Hey. Hey, man. You're protecting it better, now. It'll be under the ocean. If we need something, you get a submersible and dig it up. But no island means no one can find what's supposed to stay hidden."

Conner rubbed his face. "This family kept this island for generations and it's going to be destroyed under my watch. It's _my_fault. I'm the one who..."

Sinopa brought her hand up and cupped Conner's jaw firmly. "Stop. You are the only Parker faced with an invasion force, and you repelled it. As Jonathan's wife, I have decided it is best to kill Joseph instead of making an attempt to coerce him. Blame me if you must, but do _not_blame yourself."

"But you're not a Parker by blood and..."

"Conner!" she snapped. "I stood idly by while your grandfather and your parents filled the coffers like their ancestors. I did not talk any of them out of it. I am just as guilty of theft as the Parker family. I have just as much right to make decisions. I have earned the right. Do not argue with me.

Conner nodded in silence. "There is a submarine under the beach..."

"Hai. Evan installed the glass birth for it. It has been in waiting for twenty-six years."

Conner glanced at his uncle, briefly. He cut his gaze back to Sinopa and asked, "What's the plan and how long do we have?"

"A few hours. Long enough to get outside of the blast zone. However, the shockwave will be very powerful below the water. It would be wise to keep the sub on the water's surface for this event. We can dive after the initial shockwave passes."

"And the plan?" Conner asked again.

"We will use the surviving mercenaries to carry salvageable items to the submarine and load it. We will give them just enough currency and gold coins to make their dangerous trip worth it. The survivors have wives and children to feed. I only spared ones with attachments, such as a wedding ring, or the blessing of a child imprinted upon their soul, which is our leverage on them. They will go home and retire."

Conner and James remained quiet.

Sinopa nodded towards the back of the small vault. "This is where the orichalcum supply is stored. Clean it out and take it to the submarine. I will wake up the mercenaries and demand their assistance."

"You're not upset about losing all this money?"

Sinopa smirked. "My heart aches more for the world's largest seed cache. The seed from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge would have been safe here. However, this is no longer an option. Now, you know what must be done. We have little time. Clear the orichalcum, take it to the submarine, and start salvaging small valuables. Are we clear?"

Conner nodded. He paused, thought better on the situation, and bowed respectfully. "I'm sorry I argued with you."

She replied with a shallow bow of reply. "We will speak later on unresolved issues." Her eyes shifted to James, adding, "I saw your father. It is a very complicated issue. He asked about you. He wishes me to relay the pride he feels for you. He is equally pleased you have taken Conner under your wing." Sinopa turned away from then and walked back into the study.

The kitsune withdrew two bottles of water from her satchel and poured some of the contents on unconscious mercenaries, waking them. One by one, she went about waking anyone she'd spared, including the men in the hallway.

Back in the study, Conner guided James to the belly of the small vault. "You heard the boss-lady. Let's clear the orichalcum out of here, get it to the sub and come back for whatever else the world can't live without."

"I'm sorry this is happening," said James.

"Uncle Jaye, this place gave me purpose. I was like ... a sentinel or something. I guarded this place. Now I feel like a failure and I'm out of a job."

"No you're not. You have one job left."

"Yeah?" Conner picked up a storage bin on a shelf and started putting metal pieces within. "Kill the bad guys? Stop Aris Falcon?"

"Make the world safe. You're getting promoted."

Conner scoffed. "How do you figure?"

"You used to be the vault guard, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Now you're guarding the rest of the world. You're here to police the globe from obtaining things that would allow someone else to become like Falcon. When we get down there, we have to grab all the relics that guy found right? Now it'll be up to you to keep the rest of the world safe from that crap. Forget about the vault. You've got the whole world to worry about now."

Conner looked down at the bin in his hands. "That's deep."

"Yeah. But first, we have to get that stuff back from Falcon, right?"

"Yeah." Conner nodded. "There's definitely that."

James gave his nephew a firm slap on the shoulder. "So let's get moving. No time for moping. Let's get this stuff moved. You're proud of your vault trial times? All that does is prepare you for being efficient and quick in life. So show me what you've got - let's get this stuff moved."

Conner nodded. The pep talk didn't instantly make him feel better, but it made sense. Conner started filling two bins while his uncle worked on a third. "Alright, let's get this first load back to the sub. God this sucks."

"Yeah. Life is full of difficult stuff. We'll get through it."

"Thanks, Uncle Jaye. For being here and helping. I'm glad I don't have to do this crap alone."

"And if you need to talk later ... I'm here, man." James moved the crate to his shoulder and headed back up the hall to the study. "About Joe Sr., and what you had to do - any of that stuff. You can't just bottle that stuff. You can talk to me when you're ready, okay?"

"I ... I dunno."

James frowned. "Sorry if I sounded judgmental earlier. I won't let it happen again. You come to me and vent, I will be openminded, okay?"

"Yeah..."

X

X

Six days later...

December 17, 2049 - mid-morning Alaska ...

Rufus Tucker Darken lifted his muzzle, peering down his darkly furred face at the purple tie. He couldn't see it very well over the shape of his maw. "Stupid things aren't meant for werewolves," he muttered.

The door to his hotel room opened. Aimee walked in.

The female wolf wore a dark gown that contrasted nicely with her lighter fur coloration. She approached Rufus. "Everyone is ready."

Rufus turned to her. "Fix m'tie?"

Aimee nodded. "Lift your head."

Rufus eased his muzzle upward.

Aimee reached up and gave a gentle tug on the knot so that it was away from his neckline. "No one wears it to their throat anymore. That's for stuffy businessmen."

"I been around a while. I'mma bit traditional at times."

"I'm glad you went with the lilac color," said Aimee. "It compliments your black fur."

"I'm too old to look like anything but a stuffy old coot, now."

Aimee smoothed her paw over Rufus' pinstripe vest. "You're a handsome gentleman in the fur," she said encouragingly. "I'm honored to have you as my boyfriend's father." She reached a clawed finger up and unbuttoned the collar button of his large dress shirt, specially tailored for his werewolf form.

"Aimee, I'll look like a shlup."

She scoffed. "No, you looked like a stiff, uptight shlup before I walked in the door." She reached down, beneath his shirt, drawing his necklace out from underq the shirt. "The Gleipnir of Fenris should be worn proudly for all to see."

Rufus nodded in silence.

Aimee reached for Rufus' left forepaw and unbuttoned his sleeve. She rolled it up, carefully and evenly, to just beneath his elbow. She used her thumb claw to fix a tuck in the cloth sleeve.

She reached for his right forepaw and rolled his other sleeve up so that they matched on both sides. "There."

Rufus turned to the mirror and scoffed. "I look like I'm tryin' to be a quarter of my age."

She chuckled. "No, you look like you could be on the cover of 'Vanity Fur.'

"Oh Lord." Rue looked himself over in the swanky hotel mirror. "I can see the article synopsis onna cover now: Rufus Darken. How do 'e compare to other werewolves? Do anybody even r'member Team Jacob? Does that there Lone Wolf still make for a better love story than Twilight?"

"Full spread inside," she added. "Also, in this issue: Southern Charm? Is it real? Is it the twang of the traditional chivalry that makes a southern gent appealing? Our top ten southern sweethearts inside - page thirty-four."

Rufus chuckled, albeit only slightly, cracking the first hint of a smile since Ulfey's death. He appreciated her sense of humor and her relationship with his son, and the funeral at the village for Ulfey.

Trying to appease Aimee's attempt at elevating his mood, Rufus added, "Also see - ten ways to avoid those full moon hangovers."

"Master your domain," she said, coming up with more possible articles for the make-believe cover of the 'Vanity Fur' parody magazine. "Learn when to keep control and when to let go of your inner beast in our exclusive Werewolf Edition."

"You're too much."

Aimee stepped back and looked him over. "You look good, pops." She turned for the door. "Whatever speech you wrote, say what you memorized and ad-lib the rest. It'll be from the heart that way."

Rufus followed her out of the room.

It felt unnatural to wear clothing overtop of fur. He never really understood the custom in certain werewolf tribes, but he wanted to do his best for the surviving members of Ulfey's people.

The hotel was exclusively owned by the Native people, and was closed down to the public for Ulfey's memorial service.

He followed Aimee down to the large ballroom on the first floor. Rufus approached his son, who had been greeting attendees. The two hugged in silence.

"You look sharp, pop," Rama whispered to his father.

"Yer lady helped. She said I looked like a businessman at first ... or somethin'."

"You ready?"

"Yeah, you?"

Rama nodded. "I've memorized my speech. But ... age before beauty."

"Heh." Rufus nodded. "Yeah. I'll go first." He gave his son a firm pat and took his place at a podium in front of the room.

Werewolves of all colors and fur-patterns assembled in seats. Some of them wore modern clothing styles like Rufus. Some wore older clothing styles, honoring their heritage. Some were Irish, some were Scottish, and some were dressed in Nordic fashion. At least half wore a standard suit and tie; some with a blazer. Clan crest pins adorned several ties.

Rufus sighed through his nose. He didn't want to do this. It seemed equally unnatural. "I'm Rufus Darken - Rama's father. I've been asked to speak, and I'll do my best."

Rue glanced over his shoulder at a projection screen cycling with a loop of images from Ulfey's life. Some were of her human form; some were of her werewolf form. Some showed her carrying Rama as a small child.

Rufus glanced back at the assembly of werewolves. "Y'know, I always thought it was strange to celebrate our humanity at times of ceremony. Wearin' clothes over fur seems odd. Embracing our inner beast always felt natural to me. But, today, I think I understand it a little better.

"In the wild, when a wolf is killed, even if it's an omega, a pack is observed entering a period of sorrow, where, at times, the entire pack stops hunting and just ... they just lay 'round lookin' a damn sight miserable. That there is their idea of bereavement.

"Wolves are one of God's most humane creatures. They cull animal herds. They were God's first attempt at a perfect creature. And then He created humans. And, of course, the two perfect species became friends.

"But then God created werewolves, an amalgamation of his best two creations, made perfect. And it wasn't until I came here, today, that I realized why we celebrate our humanity, and wear clothes and act in a way that shows respect...

"It's because we want to remind ourselves we're not just animals. We're not just creatures of instinct. We're much, much more. We're complex. We're spiritual, and we're proud of our heritages."

Rufus motioned to a few of the people in the group. "I see clan colors. I see pride and I see heritage." He placed both of his large black paws on either side of the podium. "I seem to reckon it was in the 1970's that some Swiss gent coined the term alpha, yet werewolves don't elect leaders by charisma or aggressive control. We elect smart, motivated pack leaders, just like humans do. And, so, why not - why not celebrate our human half? Having said that, we's here t'day to honor one of our brightest, one of our most motivated."

Rufus swallowed down emotion. He was trying to remember everything he'd practiced. For some reason, it was easier to remember numbers.

Rue's gaze met with Aimee. She gave him a knowing look.

He recalled what she said in the upstairs hotel room about ad-libbing his speech so that it would come from the heart.

Rue stepped down from the podium and began pacing. "I met Ulfey Sigvard back in 2023. It was the usual weird love story. Boy meets girl, boy finds out girl is in an arranged marriage, boy helps girl live through an unexpected attack on the village, boy comforts girl and helps her rebuild ... boy goes off to fight the people responsible for the attack."

Silence.

"And I damn-near died doing it. Hell, she thought I died because I ain't come back.

"She had a son. Twenty-five years pass and I catch up with her. Then? I find out I've got a son. Ulfey and I start ta' talk ... and damn there was chemistry ... we fell in love so damn hard. It was like the first time all over again, but with more maturity and self awareness and...."

Rufus grimaced. His lower lip trembled and his chest ached. "...And a man can be so damn dense sometimes. I didn't even know I was in love until she were gone. And now I dunno what I'mma do without her. It's all a goddamn mess."

His eyes glistened. Tears matted down the fur on either side of his face. "I've got this handsome, smart, big-hearted son and I'm so proud to see the man that Ulfey raised. She did such a fine job, and I am truly sorry I wasn't there for either of'em."

Rufus made his way up to the reflective screen and pointed to the projection. His shadow appeared over a section of the screen. "Look at this beautiful woman. Strong, brave as hell, smart as a whip ... it were no wonder she was asked to be the protector of the oracle, YiaYia."

He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "Sorry. I don't handle emotion well. I don't handle ... losin' a soulmate very well, either." He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. "Sorry. This is a damn sight harder than I thought it'd be."

Rama came up to the podium and said, "What my father is trying to say is that ... you can't help who you love. You can't help how little you see that person. You can't explain to people why you feel the way you feel when you've had so little face-time with that person. But it's impossible to doubt that my father loves my mother more than he can put into words...

"...I'd just like to take a moment to give my father a chance to calm down over this. He traveled across the globe to find her, and he's the one who found her after she'd passed...

"...There has been a tremendous hole in his heart and in his soul ever since. Please excuse us. We'll resume the ceremony shortly."

Rama stepped down from the podium and approached the projection screen. He put his large paws on his father's shoulders and guided the man back out of the room.

In the hallway, Rufus turned back to Rama and pulled his son into a hug. "Damn I fucked that up, din' I?"

Rama sighed and gave his father a firm pat on the back. "No, pop. No. No, you didn't mess up anything. I'm glad you loved her. I always thought it was goofy that she talked about you like some sort of fairytale hero after such a short time together. But now I see it. I understand it. I just wish she was alive so I could tell her that I believe her now."

Rufus sniffed, but was congested with heartbreak. "I'm going back. I'm going back to the Atlantic. I didn't kill that bastard the first time and now Ulfey paid for it. But this time ... this time, I'm gonna rip'em to shit. I'mma make sure he never comes after you or Aimee. I'm gonna finish this."

"I want to go with you."

"I would love nuffin more than to fight'em together. However, I want - no ... I need you to keep the werewolves alive," said Rufus. "That room has nearly every werewolf left in existence. Our whole damn species fits in one room, now, Rama."

Rama peered into the room, then turned back to his father.

Rue grimaced. "We're practically extinct, which is what the point of my speech were supposed to be, but I cain't make words right now. Not in there. Not about her."

"I just got my father back and I just lost my mother." Rama licked his lips. "Look, you can't ask me to speak about her, and then turn around and hold another memorial for you, too. C'mon."

"You wanna come to fight Falcon?"

"Yes!"

"And Aimee?"

"She can wait for us."

"Oh," Rufus said, drawing back a bit from his son with a nod. "Right. That way she can have a funeral for both of us."

Rama frowned. He peered in through the door to the ballroom, and all the wolves seated. Rama saw Aimee at the far end of the room. He turned back to his father, the frown tugging hard at the corners of his muzzle. "Damn."

"You got a speech memorized?"

"Sort of. I'm no good at making up speeches."

Rufus gave his son a firm pat on the shoulder. He walked back into the gathering and addressed the room in a clear voice. "In many cultures, the living do not mourn the dead - they celebrate life. They gather, they drink, they reminisce, they commiserate, and they drink some more. I know them there is some big words, but y'all get my meaning.

"Ulfey was a traditional girl with a work ethic that'd rival any Viking man. She was proud of her Icelandic heritage. She was proud of her son.

"But she knew how to step back from reality when it was necessary. Now, I ain't no fairytale prince, but she let herself love without reservation.

"We went years apart, and then she picked up where we left off like some kinda' story book. And I fought like hell. And then one-damn-day, Odysseus made it home to Penelope 'n Telemachus. And after entertaining his wife in the great hall with the Great Bow, they drank.

"Now I'm tellin' you about this 'cause my son is from Greece. That's where Ulfey raised him. And that's where she's buried.

"I carved our initials on the lid of her oak box the way Odysseus carved his initials on a tree he had in his bedroom with Penelope.

"But my story ain't one with a happy ending. She's gone and I'm gonna go back to the Trojan war with Troy, so to speak.

"I got to. People down there wanna kill every last werewolf because they believe it's the only way for Fenris to break the Gliepnir." Rufus reached down and ran his thumb over his necklace. "They say that a lil' part of Fenris' spirit is given to each werewolf. And if we all die, Fenris will be whole again, and become powerful enough to break the chain."

No one spoke, but Rufus could see concern in the eyes of his peers.

"We cain't let that happen. The best way to celebrate Ulfey is to survive. The best way to remember her is to have a drink and remember who we are - to remember what we are. We cain't let her death mean nuffin, or that's what the rest of us'll become."

Rufus waved Rama up to the podium. "This young man, right here, as some of you heard ... is prophesized to have a son, who'll help lead our kind into a golden age. We'll come back in large numbers. We'll tell stories, sing songs, and chant over beers about how Ulfey died as bravely as she lived.

"I know this is heartbreaking. It is for me. I know we're not supposed to cry over her life because it's gone - we're supposed to smile because it happened. And one day, I'll do that. But today isn't that day.

"I need a drink. This hotel has a bar, and it's locked down to the public. And if you join me at the bar, I'd love to hear your stories about her. I invite you to join me."

With that, Rufus walked out of the ballroom, passed his son, and made his way down the hallway towards the hotel bar.

Rama and Aimee looked at one another in surprise as the congregation of werewolves stood up and followed Rufus out of the room and down the hall.

Rama dropped into a seat adjacent to Aimee and sighed. He looked up at the projection screen. The photographs played in a loop, depicting images of his mother.

"You okay?" Aimee asked.

"My mother knew I was going to do this a long time ago. All these crazy things started happening - the attack at the diner ... and then thing-after-thing happened and I never got around to it, and now she's gone and she won't see it happen."

"...Do_this_?" Aimee reached up and cupped his face. "Have you really been waiting that long?"

"What?"

"Your mom told me to go to the diner with you. She told me you needed me there because you were working up courage. Right then and there, I knew what she meant."

Rama swallowed. "You're a smart girl."

"You've been carrying it around in your pocket for a long, long time."

"You knew?"

"Yeah."

"Damn you're perceptive."

"And patient," she added with a grin. "But we girls have been waiting for this since we were children. Since the single-digits - I've dreamed of it since I was six."

Rama withdrew the ring box from his pocket. "It's going to feel weird not having it in my pocket after so long."

Aimee's heart raced, but she played it calm, cool, and collected. "Yeah? It's felt weird not having it on my finger all this time."

"So you're going to say yes? Before even seeing the ring?"

"Pre-yes. Pre - I do." Aimee reached forward and placed her hands on either side of his right knee. "Babe, I would marry you no matter what. I'd marry you because I love you, not because the cut of a three billion-year-old polished stone."

"But you'll wear it right?"

"Goddamn right I'll wear it. It's a symbol of how much my man loves me. That's a woman's pride, and I'll wear it proudly."

Rama opened the box and displayed the ring to her.

"Holy..."

"Like you said," Rama replied, feeling confidence well up in his chest, already knowing her answer, "It's not about the cut of a three billion-year-old polished stone. It's a symbol of how much I love you. And I won't have other women judge you when we both know size matters. I'd rather have them be jealous of you. Because that is a man's pride - how well he can provide for his woman ... and I wanted to provide you with something that'll remind you of how much I love you when you look down at it. "I know I don't always say it, but if a ring is a symbol of love, then I wanted it to be amazing for you."

Her muzzle parted and words failed. One of her ears flickered listlessly. After a moment of pause, feeling incredibly taken aback by the presentation and his speech, she lifted her left paw and parted her fingers.

Her cellphone rang.

They looked at one another. Aimee cringed apologetically. She looked down at the phone on the seat adjacent to her. It was her father.

"Nope." She reached down, touched the screen to ignore the call, and with a bright smile, said, "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Rama grinned. He withdrew the ring from the box and thumbed the cleverly-designed telescoping bottom of the shank and guided the ring up her finger. "It will shrink when you change."

"Really??"

"Yeah. I wanted it so you could wear it no matter what."

Aimee licked her lips. "You are amazing."

"No, you are. That's why I'm so taken with you."

Aimee launched herself into his arms. "I love you."

"I love you too, Aimee. And I'm not really in the mood to go drinking with everyone. I'd rather just spend the time with you."

"You_just_ proposed to me," Aimee said. "We can tell them in a few hours, when they need an excuse for a last round."

"Yeah?"

She stood up, guiding him to his feet. "Yeah. It's still early and I'm _engaged_now. I'm dragging you upstairs for the next several hours."

Rama grinned. He looked up at the pictures of his mother on the projection screen. Rama took Aimee's left paw and held it up as if showing the ring to his mother. "See? I finally did it."

Rama's other arm slid around Aimee's waist. "Let's ... go up to our room, then. And ... observe ... how good the ring looks on you in the mirror."

"Yeah," she said with a firm nod. "Exactly. We're going to our room ... to ... look at the ring in the mirror. Exactly."

He grinned. "So we can see how good it looks on you."

"Naked." She grinned back.

Rama blew a kiss to his mother's image on the projector screen. "I will miss you more than I know how to say, mom. I wish you could have seen her wearing it in person, and this is the closest I'll get to making that happen. I love you, mom." They walked out of the room together, leaving the projector alone to run through its loop of photographs.

He and Aimee walked through the hotel, headed upstairs, paw-in-paw.

"What happens after today?" Aimee asked in a soft voice.

"We have a few drinks tonight. Tomorrow, we wake up with a hangover, take a long, long shower, and head to Syracuse."

"Where our fathers had been staying?"

"Yeah, exactly. My mom wanted to help those people for some reason. She believed in whatever they're doing, and so do both of our fathers. So we're going to see what the fuss is about."

"Understood. Now let's get upstairs while the rest of this hotel is empty, Rama."

"You don't have to tell me twice," he said, giving her paw a firm squeeze.