Chapter Text
Vera Stone was not a woman who liked being ignored. The Grand Magus of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose expected her texts to be answered promptly, especially by those under her supervision. Yet, for the past two days, Hamish Duke— Knight of Saint Christopher and, in her begrudging opinion, the most responsible of the pack—had been notably silent.
The last time she’d gone two days without hearing from him, he’d been injured during a particularly messy run-in with a golem. So now, with her patience running thin, she strode purposefully through the dense forest toward the Knights’ den, muttering under her breath.
“Honestly, if this is some petty rebellion, I’ll—” She stopped mid-sentence, catching sight of the den’s familiar, weathered door. Pushing it open, Vera stepped inside and froze.
The place was a mess. Couches were overturned, the coffee table was in pieces, and shards of glass glittered across the floor. The scent of spilled alcohol and…fur? …filled the air. Then, she heard it.
A tiny growl.
Her sharp gaze darted toward the kitchen, where a small, tawny wolf cub crouched defensively over a puddle of whiskey. The cub blinked up at her with a startling familiarity.
“Hamish?” Vera asked incredulously.
The cub—Hamish, clearly, judging by the half-apologetic look he gave her with those stunning blue eyes of his—dropped his head to lap up more of the spilled liquor.
“Oh, for the love of—stop that!” Vera snapped, swiping him off the floor. Hamish yelped but didn’t struggle, as though he knew better than to defy her.
Before Vera could process the absurdity of holding a wolf cub, a whirlwind of fur barreled past her. Another cub, with dark fur and a white chin raced in circles around the room, knocking over what little furniture remained upright.
“And I guess you're Randall,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
The cub skidded to a halt, wagging his tail furiously, before lunging at her shoe with playful growls.
As she stared down at him, the sound of a soft snarl drew her attention to a shadowed corner. There, a third cub, with sleek black fur and an unmistakable air of defiance, glared at her with glowing yellow eyes.
“Lilith,” Vera said flatly.
Lilith huffed, turning her nose up as if offended by Vera’s very presence.
The final cub revealed itself when Vera stepped toward the living room. A small wolf with a light-gray back was curled up near the remnants of the coffee table. His wide blue eyes locked onto her, then darted to the doorway as footsteps echoed from outside.
“Ms. Drake?” Vera guessed aloud. "What are you doing here?"
Sure enough, Alyssa Drake appeared in the doorway, her expression morphing from worry to absolute confusion as she took in the scene.
“Magus? What—” Alyssa’s words cut off when the gray cub bounded toward her, nuzzling against her legs.
“That’s Jack,” Vera explained wearily, rubbing her temples.
Alyssa bent down to scoop up the little cub, who immediately snuggled into her arms, looking every bit as content as a puppy reunited with its owner.
“This is adorable,” Alyssa admitted, scratching Jack’s ears. “But also weird. What happened to them?”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” Vera said, her tone steely. She set Hamish down, ignoring his sheepish whine. “For now, they’re our responsibility until we reverse this…whatever it is.”
As if to punctuate her words, Randall leapt onto the couch, bouncing as he barked loudly, while Lilith snapped at his tail in annoyance. Hamish, meanwhile, attempted to maintain some semblance of dignity as he inspected the remains of the whiskey bottle, though his wobbly stance suggested the alcohol had already gotten to him.
“I’ll help,” Alyssa said, adjusting Jack in her arms as he licked her cheek. “But…you’re definitely taking the night shifts.”
Vera groaned. This was going to be a very long week.