*~*~*~*~*~*

"Tye!" a horrified voice interrupted his question as he was suddenly yanked from the scene into a flash of blinding white light. "Oh my god! Tye what happened!" the voice continued to shout as he groggily opened his eyes, using a raised hand to shield them from the glare.

"Wha..." he mumbled as he felt a frantic hand snatch up his prone hand and grip it tenaciously. He tried to focus his eyes, still reeling from the shift in the light. After spending so much time in such bleakness, it almost hurt to return to this bright reality.

"Tye please talk to me!" an anxious yet gentle cry resounded in his ears, forcing him into consciousness with both its urgency and it familiarity. Such a hushed timbre could only belong to one person that he knew.

"Angie?" he questioned meekly, using his cousin to help pull himself upright. "Angie? What’s wrong?" His eyes managed to return to their usual perception as he noticed the silver-haired youth looking down at his hand in absolute terror. His gray-green eyes widened as he took in the sight of his hand cupped within hers, still coursing blood through the tear in the skin. But this was real blood. It was definitely not some illusion.

"How did you do this?" begged Angelique as she used her free hand to grab a piece from the bottom of her nightshirt and rip it from the rest of the fabric. She wrapped the ragged cloth around Tyrell’s wound and pulled it as tight as she could manage. Tyrell found himself at lost for words as he tried to imagine how an injury sustained in a dream could still be making a fuss in real life. This had never happened to him before. Then again, a lot of things this week had never happened to him before.

"I don’t know," he uttered in a listless tone as Angelique removed her hands from his injury and then laid his bandaged hand back on the bed. "I don’t really remember." He touched the bandage and traced the cross sketching of the cloth with his fingers, looking as incredulous as if he were handling a rarity. "I just don’t know."

Angelique stared at him in disbelief, her lilac eyes sparkling with confusion, fear, and also a hint of anger. "What do you mean you don’t know? Did you do this to yourself?"

"What? No! I must have cut myself on some part of the bed in my sleep or something. Calm down, Angie. I’m okay now."

"You sure? I thought I heard you mumbling something in your sleep so I came here to check on you and you’re lying there bleeding. I was afraid something horrible had happened," Angelique replied calmly, her usual demeanor resurfacing now that the crisis had been averted for the moment.

"It’s nothing really," Tyrell explained lifting his hand from the injury and ruffling his cousin’s hair in an affectionate gesture. "But thanks for checking on me, Angie."

"By the way Tye, who were you talking to anyway? I thought I heard you saying something before I came in?"

"Oh, I was just dreaming."

"About what this time?" Angelique asked, a tiny curious smile growing on her face as she sat down on the bed beside the boy.

Suddenly, Tyrell realized that there was no way he could tell her exactly what he had been dreaming about. It well nigh matched what was currently happening in his life. And he still had yet to tell her about his original dream the day before. She couldn’t ever find out about his situation. He’d have to make something up to humor her for now.

"Uh...nothing really. Just an ordinary run of mill dream. Just like everybody else. Nothing special," he attempted to lie, shrugging his shoulders as if the whole thing was no big deal. But Angelique saw through his prevarication and gave him her usual skeptical glance. She ran her fingers down the length of the coverlet, pretending that she wasn’t particularly concerned with his deception.

"Oh really? Well, that is rather special. For you anyway. Let’s face it, a boy who usually has ghasty dreams having a plain dream just like the rest of us. That’s a bit unusual, wouldn’t you say?"

"Umm..." Tyrell trailed off, unable to think of a proper way to answer her question. It was obvious that she could tell he was lying to her. He hated having to lie to her, especially when he knew how defensive she was about secrets. Her whole life people had been keeping secrets from her, about her father among other things. She felt betrayed whenever someone would lie to her just to avoid telling her something. Tyrell had promised never to make her feel this way, yet here he was willingly defying his word. He gulped and continued, hoping that somehow he might convince his cousin to return to her room. "Well anything’s possible. Maybe I’m finally cured of my curse of clairvoyance."

"Or perhaps there is something you wish to tell me?" persisted the other girl, gazing at him with an expression that was full of total trust.

"No," choked the boy, feeling sick as the word fell from his mouth with a loathsome ring. "There’s nothing I need to talk about." He turned from the older girl and cleared his throat as he combed his fingers through his hair.

"Are you sure? Because..."

"There’s nothing wrong! I just want to get some sleep!" Tyrell snapped, forcing the words out of his throat with as much venom as he could muster. Angelique blanched under the harshness of her companion’s words and looked at him sadly before removing herself from the bed. The hurt look in her eyes ripped through her cousin like a knife, sinking deep into his heart and wrenching it upwards. Just seeing her like this made him ill and the fact that he had caused it made him feel dizzy and nauseous as well. Afraid he would lose his resolve, he jerked his head to the side so that he was staring at the wall. He barely heard his cousin murmur her farewell in a crushed voice before she closed the door behind her with a silent click.

When he was sure she was gone, Tyrell buried his head within his good hand and sobbed brokenly. Why must everything in his life go wrong? His tears soaked his hand and trickled onto the coverlet that was already speckled with blood. The sight of the blood brought him out of his depression as he examined the crimson splotches with inquisitive cloudy green eyes. He wiped at his wet checks with the back of his hand and then shifted his attention to that of his bandaged hand lying stiff at his side, still sending little currents of pain through his fingers, reminding him of his dream and the oath he had made.

Tomorrow he would find the wolf once more and when he did, he would somehow devise a strategy of making it reveal all its secrets. Perhaps it could explain to him the meaning of the dream and the connection between the sadistic Lionelle and the powerful Shards that now belonged to him and his sister. When he had some answers, maybe then he would be able to tell Angelique what was really going on and apologize for his cruel actions tonight. But it would all have to wait until at least morning. Confident in his new plan, Tyrell flopped back down among his pillows and passed into one of his rare dreamless sleeps.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was afternoon and the baking sun of the midday beat down upon the young boy as he laid on the grassy hill of the park, perusing through yet another one of his acquired collection of books. Next to him sat a large pile of perhaps ten to fifteen manuscripts, some old and practically falling apart at the spines, while others looked brand new, sporting shining hard covers and silky white pages. Finding the information within unsatisfactory, Tyrell moaned and tossed the book back into the pile. He eyed the pile scrupulously and then selected another one out of the mess of literature. This one looked somewhat more impressive than the others, with an illustrious picture of a noble gray wolf juxtaposed with that of Indian chieftain. It was interesting to note how the decorative feathers of the man’s headdress melted and merged into the ruffled pelt of the animal.

Tyrell read to himself, flipping through several pages that mostly repeated the same thing about the reverence of wolves. He sighed and skipped past some other chapters until he was almost in the near end of the book.

"Darn it! This stuff is all so descriptive and informative but not a single thing here mentions anything about wolves possessing human characteristics. Even when they are human, they still act like wolves. What good is this stuff? Wait a minute, what’s this?"

The boy’s eyes fell across the title in the very last section of the work that stood out in big bold letters and had a large question mark following the end. Shape-shifters. Though there were only a few small paragraphs below, it was something that could provide Tyrell with a little more information. He scanned over the tiny paragraphs, a smile appearing on his face as possibilities ran wild within his mind. According to the text, there had been rumors that long ago there were a group of men and women that had used sorcery to transform themselves into a variety of animals including cats, leopards, dogs, bears, birds, and wolves. It was said that unlike lycanthropes, these people didn’t need the light of a full moon to change but usually relied on some sort of incantation or magical trinket. Furthermore, it stated that because the shape-shifters had actual control over their chosen animal, they could incorporate their human consciences into its design; therefore having mastery over both its power and its mind.

Maybe this was the thing he had been searching for all along. Perhaps, the reason the wolf with the violet eyes seemed to act so human was because it actually was the alter form of some living person. That would explain why it could understand human speech and harbor human emotions. Yet, that still didn’t tell Tyrell why he could read its mind.

Just then, a movement in the grass alerted Tyrell to the presence of another and he tilted his head to get a better view. Propped along a bench and scratching out some letters on a pink sheet of stationary was Gayle. Tyrell looked on as the girl chewed at the eraser tip of her pencil, her furrowed brow showing that she was having some trouble with her writing. Her bright blonde hair wound down her shoulders as she tapped her foot against the wooden base. Looking closer, Tyrell realized the girl was humming some sort of tune under her breath and then recording it across the lines on the stationary. What confused him was how she was able to make out the notes with all the bunnies and flowers racing down the borders of the page.

Grimacing at one of her musical numbers, Gayle shook her head roughly and then reached down at her side, lifting up a large blue case that had numerous stickers pasted all over it. The stickers ranged from unicorns, kittens, balloons, kisses, hearts, bunnies, ribbons, and a few miscellaneous band logos. Tyrell raised his eyebrow as he made out some of the names etched across the case. These were definitely not fluffy pop bands but various hard-core rock bands. Most of which were the last things he ever expected to see Gayle listening to.

But if this shocked Tyrell, the next thing the girl did was enough to cause him a small heart attack. Flipping open the lid of the case, she revealed a sleek red and white guitar with a smooth black tailpiece and a glittering pink pick that had been sprinkled with dots of silver and black. Still humming to herself, Gayle raised the guitar from its velvet cushioning and began to pluck out a few strings on it.

"Not too bad," Tyrell thought to himself as he listened to the pretty notes that flowed from the taunt strings. Then the girl brought the pick down on the cords with a sharp twist of her wrist, sending a low moan through the instrument. She coupled this action by striking the guitar again and again with savage intensity. Raw cords of power screamed into the air as the music rang with a piercing euphoria of fury and rebellion. Yet, despite the loud aching melody, the music was truly beautiful. It blended heart-wrenching misery with burning rage in a passionate symphony.

"Now that’s what I call talent," the young boy whispered, allowing himself to drown into the perfect resonance of the strain.

Hearing the muffled sound of the other’s voice, Gayle whirled around, spying Tyrell out of the corner of her luminous azure eyes. She tilted her head in a whimsical examination of her companion and then smiled broadly, showing her set of flawless white teeth. Tyrell froze in place, while the grinning girl ran her eyes over his form. Sensing his anxiety, Gayle shut her eyes lightly and raised a curved palm to her mouth, trying to stifle her wave of laughter. But the noise escaped the blockage and rang out with high-pitched clarity within the empty park. The boy leapt to his feet, hiding his collection of reading behind his back as he watched the girl giggle at his self-consciousness.

Gayle eagerly hopped off her bench and trotted over to Tyrell, leaving her guitar lying prone among the wooden seating. She curved her neck to check out what was behind the other’s back as he stepped back nervously. "Hey Tyrell, whatcha reading?"

"Nothing," the boy blurted as he scrambled to scoop up as many books as he could into his limber arms. Gayle laughed again and then bent down and procured one of the largest volumes. She glanced at the cover for second and then handed it back to Tyrell with a polite smile.

"Interesting topic. Werewolves and ancient folklore," she noted as she tapped the book’s surface with one ice blue fingernail. "I didn’t know you were interested in fairy tales, Tyrell?"

"Uh...I’m not. This for some school assignment. We have to research some type of myth and see if we can prove or disprove its existence," Tyrell responded as nonchalant as he could, still trying to hide the rest of the books within his arms. Gayle looked up at him, considering his explanation, and then nodded her understanding.

"Yeah my teacher is always making us do dumb stuff too. Today he sent us home to write some paper and he’s only giving us this week to finish it. How ever will I finish that on time? I have dancing classes all week from four to seven." The girl sighed deeply and hung her head against her chest as the light tendrils of sunlit hair toppled over it. Seeing that he had successfully avoided the subject of his reading material, Tyrell rushed to find some way to shift the conversation topic. With great difficulty, he adjusted the books into one arm and patted his companion’s shoulder.

"Well I could help you. My teachers always say that I do excellent research papers."

"Really? Could you? Wow! Thanks!" Gayle exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she threw her arms around the older boy in a grateful embrace. "That would be ever so nice of you."

His cheeks flushing with embarrassment, Tyrell pulled away from the girl and retrieved the books that her eager hug that managed to knock from his hold. "..Sure..I could help you. But could you do me a favor in return?" he questioned with an absent look, still trying to reduce the redness on his face. Gayle clasped her hands in anticipation and nodded her head with zeal. "Oh yes, Tyrell, I’ll do anything for you. Just name it."

Tyrell motioned toward her guitar, resting on its side on top of the bench. The movement caused a few loose mahogany strands to cover the right side of his face as he gazed at the girl with one critical eye. "You play that guitar, right?"

"Of course. I love to play. But what’s that got to do with anything?" the blond asked, a look of confusion appearing across her flawless visage.

"I heard you while I was reading. You play like no one else I’ve ever heard. Almost as good as Maren."

"Maren? Maren Torrence? You mean the boy who’s always prancing around in all those dark, evil fashion styles?" chuckled Gayle, envisioning the older boy strumming notes on a guitar while decked out in all his gothic finery. "He plays an instrument?"

"Yeah and right now he’s looking for a new bass player for his band, STRYFE. His old one moved away just a few days ago and they have a gig coming up soon. Tonight in fact," Tyrell continued glancing at the motionless guitar with growing impatience.

"Tonight? How are they gonna play if they’re short a member?"

"Well that’s where you come in, Gayle. I personally think you’d make a superb addition to the band and I’m sure the other guys would agree with me. Cyrus is always seeking out new talent."

"But I’ve never played before people before. And I can’t sing or nothing. I’d be awful."

"Don’t worry about singing. Ren is currently taking care of that position. All you’d have to do is play. Oh and you may need to make some slight adjustments on your image. The not-so innocent school-girl look just doesn’t suit STRYFE," the boy added getting a better look at the girl’s attire. Her sky blue shirt barely reached to her belly and hung to her slender shoulders by the tiniest spaghetti straps he had ever seen. Moreover, her extremely short white skirt creeping up her butt didn’t help the look either.

"But I like the way I dress," Gayle whimpered glancing down at her skimpy shirt in puzzlement. What’s wrong with this?"

"Nothing!" gulped Tyrell, averting his eyes as Gayle puffed out her chest to demonstrate her point. "It’s just that STRYFE is sort of hard core. You know, like those bands on your guitar case. They want to maintain some semblance of style."

"Really? You mean I could play with a hard rock band? Soo cool!" the girl yelped, pressing her hands together as her bright eyes twinkled at the thought.

"Well, we have to work on your look first. But it shouldn’t take that long. I know some great stores. So, you in?" he finished holding out his hand to the girl as he eyed her expectantly.

Gayle grabbed his hand and shook it, nearly pulling him off his feet with the exuberance of the motion. She raced back to the bench and stuffed her guitar back into the case, all the while beaming at her companion. Then she flew back to his side and leaned against his shoulder, batting her eyelashes innocently. "So, where do we go first?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

Later, Tyrell laid across his bed, watching pictures dance across his television set as Kat nosed through the books sitting next to his drawer. Convincing Maren to let Gayle join the group had been tough but with a few new clothes and her amazing talent for the music, Maren had soon consented. He had still managed to be a chauvenistic ass about it. But that was okay. Tyrell was sure that Cyrus would care much more about music and less about the battle of the sexes. Cyrus always was the more practical one. All he had to do was make sure that he wasn't late again tonight.

He looked back at Kat again. She wasn't spending half as much time poring over the pages as Tyrell was, instead contenting herself to noting the titles and then dropping them back on the floor. This had been going on for the last half an hour as Tyrell lay, dreading the thought of Angelique wishing a word with him. Yet his fears were soon put to rest as the time passed by without even a sighting of Angelique at his door.

Kathryn had also become aware of the girl’s absence. She was usually like a second shadow to Tyrell whenever they were home. But now, she hadn’t even caught a glance of her since they had returned from school that afternoon. Angelique had been quite disturbed by Tyrell’s suggestion that she walk back with Kat while he finished some research in the park. It was highly unheard of for Tyrell to want any sort of separation from his cousin. After all, the two were as close as any relatives could get. It was obvious that Tyrell was trying to hide something from the silver-haired girl, and as far as his sister could tell, it was much more than just the secret of them being Keys.

"So what’s the deal with you and Goth girl?" Kat asked with a curious raise of her eyebrow as she stuffed her face into the center of another book. Tyrell sighed and shifted his position on the bed so that his chin rested on his folded arms.

"She can tell I’m keeping something from her," he said morosely as Kat turned her head to face him.

"Well, you are," she stated bluntly, setting the book down on its edge and watching it tumble to its side. "But you have to because it would just cause problems if we suddenly went around proclaiming to the world that we have the power to control the storms and that some lunatic assassin is hunting us down just to find out why."

"It’s not just that. It’s...other things too."

"Such as?"

Tyrell held out his hand to show her the bandaged cut. She stared at him in wonder as he unraveled the wrappings and displayed the fairly deep teeth marks on the skin of his palm. "I encountered something the other day."

"I should say so! What, did it try to eat you?" sputtered the girl, gazing at the wound in disgust.

"No. It talked to me."

"What talked to you?"

"A wolf. An actual breathing wolf. I found it while I was walking by the park. It spoke to me," her brother continued, a faraway expression crossing his face as he raised his head from his arms.

"It talked to you? You mean out loud?" Kat exclaimed, leaning against the bed and looming over her musing sibling.

"No, not out loud. I think I could read its thoughts. They were so very human. It was almost as if the beast had its own sense of emotion."

"So you can read animals’ minds now? That’s a bit odd."

"Maybe," Tyrell said softly, as a new idea popped into his head. He looked at Kat with sudden interest and then his eyes shone with a glimmer of inspiration. "Hey Kat, why don’t I try to read your mind?"

"Huh? Mine? Um, I find that somewhat creepy," yelped Kat, jumping back from the bed with a ‘meep’. She skirted close to the drawer and tapped her fingernails on the oak furnishing, weighing the pros and cons of her brother’s suggestion. On one hand, it would prove if Tyrell was really losing it. But on the other, it would involve allowing him entry into her personal thoughts. Kat tapped her nails even harder against the sturdy surface, cocking her head to the side and averting her eyes as she came to her decision. "I guess it’s all right as long as you promise not to ever do this again without my permission," she conceded after a few pregnant moments.

"Give me a break Kathryn. Why would I ever want to read your mind on a normal basis? I can pretty much already guess what’s going on inside there and I’d rather not know for sure," Tyrell joked as Kat’s eyes flashed a livid blue. She put both hands on her hips and glared at him, vicious slurs forming within her brain.

"So right now you’re thinking that you’re going to kill me, right?"

"Lucky guess," the girl spat, struggling to maintain her composure. "I just have to keep telling myself this is all in the name of science," she futilely tried to convince herself but found that the reassurance did nothing to lessen the building fury. She could be busy shopping with Nadia and Gayle right now, but instead she had decided, against her better judgment, to return home and try to console her dolorous sibling.

"And now you’re seriously contemplating beating the crap out of me because you think that I’m wasting your time," Tyrell laughed as he watched his sister’s face vary from different shades of red and purple.

"Be serious Tyrell! If you going to mock me, then I’ll just leave right now!"

"Wait! Okay Kat, I’m going to try for real this time," the boy twin pleaded, jumping up from the bed to prevent Kat from leaving before he had some answers. Kat turned to him, eyeing him distastefully and then propped herself against one of the jutting doors of the clothes chest and tried to think of something that Tyrell would never be able to just guess at.

As she stood there, searching for a crucial secret of her life that she was willing to reveal for this noble cause, only one thing kept repeating in her mind. This was the stupidest thing she had ever done and the fact that she had actually entertained the notion of Tyrell reading a wolf’s mind, or anyone else’s mind for that matter, was just plain ludicrous. He was probably just hallucinating due to the stress of the problems with the Chimera and the Keys.

Tyrell watched his sister with strict attention for a moment and then jerked back as if he’d been hit. His eyes flashed raging emerald embers as he struck the bed hard with his hand, causing several of its pillows to plummet to the floor. "Damn it! I’m not hallucinating! And you’ve got a lot of nerve saying that, seeing as you fantasize about a hot date between you and Maren at least ten times a day!"

Kat was rendered speechless. She had never said the part about her brother hallucinating aloud and she definitely had never indicated how much time she spent thinking of Maren. The reality of the situation instantly eradicated her earlier feelings of anger as she wracked her brain to come up with a logical explanation.

"I didn’t say anything," Kat whispered as Tyrell’s eyes shone with unmitigated shock. The boy put a hand to his head and swooned as if dazed by the knowledge that he really read his sister’s mind.

"At least you got your answer now. Problem solved," his dark-haired sister continued, offering a weak smile in attempt to cheer him up.

"No," Tyrell sighed with a downhearted shake of his head. "My problems just got worse."

*~*~*~*~*~*

His talk with Kat had left Tyrell feeling uneasy the rest of the night and by the time midnight rolled around, he had all but forgotten of his appointment with the band. He sat by his TV, sketching picture after picture of the black wolf, hoping that somehow it could provide a solution to his new problem. All he had to do was just find it again.

Trying to keep his mind of the sudden circumstances with his telepathy, he focused on finishing the slanted curve of each of the animal’s soul-boring eyes. He pressed down hard on his pencil, driving it into the paper with swift black strokes as he worked to reproduce the intensity that effused from within the silent orbs. His pencil was tilted at a slight angle so that he could maintain the downward slope of the eye, capturing its constant frigid expression. A few strands of mahogany hair attempted to hinder his eyesight only to be swept away with a brutal brush of his hand.

Tyrell shifted his pencil to began work on the menacing snarl that revealed the wolf’s deadly white canine fangs. As he began to sketch the curve of the first upper tooth, he was startled by the ear-piercing ring of his phone. His sudden jolt caused him to swipe the pencil over the entire face of his drawing. Cursing the idiot who would have the audacity to call him at this hour, he stomped over to his night desk and ripped the phone of the cradle.

"Hello!" he screamed into the receiver, his voice indicating how unhappy he was at the interruption.

"Why hello Arteme. Are we forgetting something?" Maren’s voice came from the other line, sarcastically sweet and yet very threatening at the same time.

"Ren!" yipped Tyrell suddenly remembering what he was supposed to be doing at this current time. He dropped the phone and raced over to his closet, tearing open the doors and snatching a lacy pearl-white shirt from behind the rows of formal dress-ware. Then he reached into the top shelf of the closet and yanked down a pair of shiny black leather pants that dipped at the waist. Having acquired these two pieces, he scrambled under his bed and drew out a small silk black jacket. Throwing the clothes on his bed, he rushed back to the phone and placed it back against his ear. Within the receiver, he could hear a multitude of nasty words pouring from his friend’s mouth.

"Arteme! Get your ass back on the phone this minute! I’m gonna give you ten minutes to drag your sorry butt down here and then I’m just gonna tell Cye that you refused to show again and let him have it out with you!" the older boy hissed from the receiver as Tyrell winced under the tone.

"Sorry! Sorry! Look Ren, I’m so very sorry, I just..." he whimpered into the phone, bending down to rummage through his desk drawers.

"I don’t give a damn what your sorry excuse is this time and I highly doubt Cyrus will either! Gayle’s already there with him and we’re all waiting for you! So you better move your ass!"

"Okay okay! I’m trying. Let me just have a couple more minutes," Tyrell begged, still searching the drawer to no avail.

"You’ve got ten minutes!" Maren said in a voice devoid of all passion. Then, the line went dead, leaving Tyrell with the static buzz.

"Crap!"

The younger boy continued to tear through the contents of the drawer. Finally, he found the object he was looking for. It was a black eyeliner pencil with a tip that was coated in silver sparkles. Pulling out a tiny mirror from within the drawer, Tyrell carefully etched an elaborate jagged pair of lines above and below his left eye. Then he connected the lines with another pair of black streaks, forming the image of a black lightning bolt slashed across surface. Cursing softly to himself, he proceeded to fill in the space between the two lines until the lightning mark almost resembled a tattoo, except that it shimmered with minute specks of metallic silver.

He checked the mark at several angles to make sure that it was perfect and then grabbed the clothes on his bed and threw them on. Once everything was fitted tight enough that he was barely able to move, let alone breath, he picked up the mirror again. Looking into it, he mussed up his hair, forcing the somewhat spiky strands to fall to one side.

Sighing at his appearance that still looked quite rushed, Tyrell tossed the mirror back in the drawer and then dashed over to his bedroom door. He slowly swung it open, making sure the knob didn’t smack against the outside wall, and then crept down the hall and descended from the staircase. Keeping an eye out for any late-night wanderers, not including his parents who usually dozed off at about eleven, he slunk over to the main entrance door. For some odd reason, his parents never felt the need to lock any of their doors, even with the new appearance of the Chimera who were keen on killing them. As he approached, Tyrell gave the house one last check and then scampered outside, quietly shutting the door as he went.

He jumped on his bike, which was propped against the lower part of his porch and began to steer it toward the street. Thankfully, Maren had decided it would be much more convenient for him to hold onto the instruments in between practices, therefore Tyrell didn’t have to further worry with the concern of loading his guitar on board. Taking the back path for a shortcut, Tyrell turned his bike and road down the unpaved road, ignoring the jerky protests of his bicycle. He didn’t have time to bother taking the main road since he only had about five more minutes to get to the place where Cyrus had scheduled their performance.

Bearing down on the handlebars, Tyrell forced his bike to clamber up the uneven roads, almost tossing himself to the ground several times. After what seemed an eternity to the boy, he could see the lights of the stage resting within a vacant lot. From what he could tell, a fairly large group of people had already assembled to hear the band. He could see some resting against the metal fencing while others sat on top a handful of parked cars.

"Wow. We must be getting more popular than we thought. That ought to please Cyrus," Tyrell mused to himself as he worked to bring the bike up the final hill.

Just then, a flash of black caught his eye as something barreled into his bike, hurtling the boy to the ground while the momentum rolled him into the ditch by the side of the road. Tyrell groaned in pain as he kicked the bicycle off his body and sat up. As he did, he noticed a shift in the darkness as a piece of the midnight air seemed to move toward him. Without even focusing his eyes, the teenager could already guess what was approaching him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the glistening amethyst, the jet black, and the gleaming white that came into view from within the gloom.

"Nice to see you again," Tyrell greeted the creature with a kind smile as he held out his hand to pat its nose.

<What do you want? Why do you keep searching for me?> The animal’s voice snapped inside his head as the wolf paced around him, agitated.

"Well, for starters, you could tell me your name. I can’t just be calling you wolf all the time," the boy replied with a light-hearted chuckle. As usual, the wolf found his words offensive and a shivering snarl rose from its throat.

<I am a wolf. So calling me wolf makes no difference to me.>

"But you’re not a real wolf, are you?" Tyrell posed, a small hint of insinuation in his tone. His question caused a troubled look to appear in the creature’s eyes as it snapped its jaws as if insulted by the response.

<Of course, I’m a real wolf! What sort of idiotic question is that?>

"I was just saying that maybe you are a wolf...but also something else."

<You assume much boy.>

"Why else would you speak like a human and act with such human emotions? It doesn’t make sense," the green-eyed youth pressed, trying not to look at the sinister teeth the wolf bared in rage.

<I suppose you think you’re a smart one. But I assure you this, I am a wolf. In every sense of the word.> With the last sentence, the beast glared at the boy with a look that very much resembled that of wicked satisfaction.

Eager to change the subject before things got violent again, Tyrell pretended to examine the cuts in his shirt. "All right, so Wolf it is. But tell me, why are you following me? Yeah, I've been looking for you, but you've also been hunting me down,otherwise I wouldn't have run into you tonight. So what's the deal?" he asked as his preening of his shirt reminded him of the band he was endangering by not showing up. But he knew he just couldn’t leave yet, without some sort of answer.

<That is none of your concern. And while we are pursuing the subject of inquiries, perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me how you know what I’m saying.>

"I’m not quite sure. But I know it has something to do with reading the mind. I just recently discovered I could do it. Come to think of it, the first time it happened was when I met you. Strangely enough, it only seems to work on human minds. Yet I can still read yours."

<Interesting. And you think it has something to do with me being human, right? After all, that is why you borrowed all of those books concerning shape-shifters, isn’t it?>

"How do you know about that?" gulped Tyrell, a growing nervousness creeping along his spine.

<I know much more than that, Tyrell.> The wolf slanted its eyes and brushed up against the boy, forcing him to the ground with its weight, back paws scraping against his clothed legs as the beast steadied himself atop his torso. <I know all about you. About the Keys.> It pushed down on the chest of the youth as the boy’s heart raced inside the inner walls, thudding against him so hard that he could feel the heartbeat connect with the padded soles of the animal’s paws.

Sensing the boy’s increasing fear, the wolf curved its neck downward so that its teeth rested just over Tyrell’s steady pulsing throat. It could see the small cavity of the jugular, lying unprotected as the boy’s lifeblood coursed through his system underneath. Tyrell nearly passed out as he felt the warm wisps of air touch the vulnerable flesh on his neck. Opening its jaws languidly, the wolf stared at the youth with apathetic eyes. Tyrell closed his own eyes tight as he silently begged for some method of escape. As he waited for the animal to make its decision, he could hear its ominous voice echoing within his mind.

<Still want to know about me?>

Both figures seemed to freeze for a moment as if apprehensive about the ramifications of Tyrell’s answer. Then, after a few tense minutes, Tyrell nodded his head in resolve, eyes still pressed shut.

<Stubborn brat!> The wolf gnashed its teeth and swept itself from the boy in one fluid movement. It dropped to his haunches and stared at the prone being as if waiting for the youth to pull himself up, but the young man refused to budge. Traumatized by the previous event, Tyrell remained on his back, eyes open and liquid like those of a deer in the headlights. He held his breath, wary of rousing the wolf’s temper further. The wolf snorted and raised its lips in a half-snarl. <Get up! I’m not going to touch you any further! You're not worth the trouble.>

Tyrell listened to its words but his eyes still reflected concern as he crawled back to his feet. "I wasn’t really afraid of you," he told the wolf with conviction, "I knew you wouldn’t really attack me. You still need me for something." He turned to the creature that apparently was more interested in something to its far left. Its eyes darted from its new interest to the boy.

<I seriously doubt you believe that. Yet, you still refused to give in. That takes courage. So in return, I will tell you this much. You are right. I need you. I was told to find you and watch over you. But you are wrong about the other thing. I am a wolf. So if you must call me something, call me that.>

Tyrell blanched at the beast’s words as he raised his eyes to where the wolf had been staring at moments ago. To his dismay, all the cars were gone and only a few stragglers remained at the fence. Cyrus was going to kill him. Turning back to the animal, he realized that it had started to slink off into the shadows once again. Tyrell leapt to his feet and cried out to it, "Will you find me again, Wolf?"

The canine swerved its head to the side and fixed its burning amethystine eyes on its human companion. <Once again Tyrell, that is none of your concern. But...perhaps.> With that, it whirled around and vanished along the winding road.

The boy it had left behind watched it go until it was nothing more than another black dot taking its place in the dark sky. Then, he looked down at his clothes, taking in the sight of the torn shirt and the filthy jacket that had only reached about halfway down his back in the first place. His hair was disheveled and his pants were had rents in them left by the wolf’s back claws. Going back to his fellow band members looking like this was suicidal, yet he had to do it. It was only right he tell them why he was late. Of course, that involved making up a pretty good story. For the moment, he decided he would go with a wild animal attack. He sure as hell looked the part. He brushed himself off and then crawled back onto the bike, ready to accept the chaos that would unfold as soon as he encountered the rest of STRYFE.

*~*~*~*~*~*