Damian's Wolf - 42. Animals

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated…”

Lysander stepped between his mate and the half elf as both teams gathered in angry protest at Jordan’s actions.

“Away from the field! Get off the field!” Jordan snarled. “Sander, keep them off the field!”

Slowly players moved away from the white line. Jordan’s eyes bugged out of his head as a foot stepped less than an inch from the line, and he let out a growl that sent even a few of the werewolf players fleeing.

“Jordan, what is going on?” Lysander asked gently.

“Thayla put fire runes around the entire pitch! If anyone steps on one, the stadium will go up in flames!”

Suddenly the players were moving a lot faster, elves and humans scurrying away from the pitch as fast as they could go. Lysander knelt on Jordan, keeping the werewolf down as a team of guard raced toward them.

“Fucking werewolves going crazy-”

“Sirs, my mate has mage training,” Lysander interrupted loudly. “He says he noticed fire runes running the perimeter of the pitch. I suggest we get the crowd out of the stadium until a mage can be sent in to erase the runes.”

The guards’ faces paled. One of them spoke into a radio as the other grabbed Jordan and hoisted him to his feet. Jordan’s arms were forced behind his back, shackles placed over his wrists, and the werewolf bit back a growl.

“What the fuck are you doing? I just saved our lives!”

“And attacked one of the star players on the Foxes. You’ll be escorted off the premises with everyone else-”

“I can’t just leave Lysander here!”

“Your mate will evacuate with the rest of the teams. We’ll get this straightened out, and make sure everyone stays safe.”

“Jordan, go with him,” Lysander said. “I’m going to be alright. We’ll make sure no one is injured.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

The elf’s hands fell on Jordan’s shoulders, Lysander looking his mate in the eye.

“Jordan. Take a deep breath. I want you to go with the guard. I will meet you after everyone is evacuated. And I will have Damian and Dylan with me.”

Lysander pressed his lips into Jordan’s, gently, tenderly.

“We will be okay,” the elf promised. “Just go with the guards. And don’t talk to any reporters. We don’t want anyone to know what’s happening, or there might be a panic.”

Finally, the werewolf let himself be guided off the pitch, his head turned to watch Lysander as the elf began talking to the other guard quietly.

The car park filled with grumbling spectators, all slowly filing out of the stadium. Jordan’s eyes scanned the lines worriedly as he was sat in the back of a truck. Guards surrounded him, an illusion presenting them as a team of reporters to reduce suspicion. Lysander and Damian were nowhere to be seen, and his missing mates were driving the werewolf insane.

“Mr. Ethis, I need you to tell me exactly where the runes are at,” someone said, drawing Jordan’s attention back to the present.

“It’s a standard circle to set up a stronger ignition,” Jordan frowned. “Runes on the sidelines, starting from the corners. They would run approximately three feet apart on either half, with another layer spread two feet apart along the entire pitch. There should be a larger rune centered between the halves; that would be the main point of detonation. If a rune on the outside ignites, it runs the entire half, chaining over to the far half. Once the proper energy is collected, the center rune would ignite.”

The guard stared at the werewolf in shock. Jordan sighed, staring straight at the man.

“I was trained by Thayla Asternil. She scammed me out of a lot of money before dismissing me for being a werewolf, trying to kill me in the process by burning my apartment down with me and one of my mates inside. No, I cannot cast a rune, no, she never told me the array could be used to create a bomb, and no, I cannot use magic. Does that answer the questions you were about to ask me?”

“Um… yeah, actually…” the guard muttered, jotting down several notes. “Well, most of them. Did Thayla ever discuss the Silver Hand with you?”

Jordan shook his head.

“I saw a silver hand statue in her apartment at one point, but did not know the meaning of the symbol. This was before she had figured out I was a werewolf.”

“We have reports connecting her with the highest ranks of the Silver Hand. You’re lucky to be alive,” the guard said.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that out already,” Jordan grunted.

“I don’t suppose she showed you how to safely clean up these circles?”

The werewolf let out an exasperated sigh.

“No, somehow that slipped her mind. I’m pretty sure she would have shown me after inducting me into her oh so secret club, but I guess she decided against that when she realized I could grow fur.”

“Okay, well, I’ll take your description to the team working on the pitch and we’ll see if we can disrupt the runes without blowing this place sky high,” the guard said. “Oh, your mates are safe. We need to take you in for assault, but I’m sure the charges will be dropped once Mr. Retty learns the reason for your attack.”

“You mean after all of this, I’m still being charged?” Jordan demanded.

“You attacked a man in front of several thousands of people. We’re sticking to that story until everyone is clear. It would be suspicious if you were not taken to the post,” the guard shrugged. “Your mate… the elf, Lysander, he said he’ll meet you down at the post. He’s talking with Mr. Retty, I think.”

Jordan sighed as he stood up. Still handcuffed, the werewolf let a guard walk him around to the side of the car. He dropped heavily into the back seat, casting one more searching look at the crowd as the door was shut.

The werewolf stepped into the guardpost, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the lower light. He heard a quiet click, and Jordan’s hands released from behind his back as a hand guided him through a large room.

“Hopefully we’ll get this all sorted out in a few hours,” the guard behind him said quietly, directing him through a hall in the back of the station.

The two stopped in front of a door with a window on it. The guard opened the door, gently nudging Jordan into the small room beyond.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. When your mate arrives, we’ll let you know.”

“Thanks,” Jordan muttered as he stepped into the cell.

The door closed behind him, and Jordan took in his new quarters. A narrow bed was neatly made, sitting against a small window that looked out on a courtyard. Beside the bed was a bookshelf, with a selection of books Jordan didn’t really feel like going through at the moment. Underneath was a small screen, with a remote sitting beside it. That held much more promise.

He sat on the bed, the mattress sagging slightly under the werewolf. The enclosement made him feel a little agitated, but he’d be out in a few hours. There was no way Lysander wasn’t doing everything possible to get him out of here.

Reaching for the remote, Jordan adjusted the tv before turning it on. It didn’t take long to find a news station, and the wolf waited impatiently for any word from the stadium. Finally, a reporter came on screen, standing in front of Alistar. Behind them, the last of the spectators were hurrying from the stadium, nearly thirty minutes after Jordan had been arrested. The werewolf shook his head in disgust; that was way too long. What if something had happened with the mages?

“We have identified the assailant only by his last name, Ethis, a new person on the werewolves’ team. Do you have any thoughts on why he tried to attack you during one of the biggest football matches of the year?” the reporter asked.

“First, I’d like to point out that this was supposed to be a friendly match,” Alistar noted.

“Pedantic asshole…” Jordan sighed.

“I don’t hold the attack against him. He’s an animal, and the crowd obviously got to him. This is why my teammates and I have been pushing for more regulation regarding wolf sports in general. Surely King Finley will see this attack and understand why werewolves cannot be allowed to roam unchecked, regardless of his ties to the beasts.”

“There are reports that his teammates pulled him off of you-”

“Well obviously wolves are pack animals. If one of them goes down, they all suffer. It seems this wolf was low in his pack-”

Jordan shut off the tv, his hands shaking as he set the remote down slowly.

“You fucking asshole…”

A knock on the door roused Jordan nearly three hours later. The werewolf looked up from his book, dropping it on the bed as he saw Lysander’s face in the window.

Bounding across the room, Jordan threw the door open, and wrapped his arms around his mate. A guard stood back behind Lysander, watching the reunion from a respectful distance.

“Damian? Dylan? Are they okay?” Jordan demanded, holding the elf tightly. “Are you okay?”

“Relax Jordan. Everyone is fine. I convinced Alistar to drop the charge of assault,” Lysander said, gently rocking the other werewolf in his arms. “The stadium is clear, Damian, Dylan, and Arisa and her mate are all back at the pack house, safe and sound.”

“Did you hear what Alistar said about me? I fucking saved his life and he called me an animal!”

“It’s okay Aerael,” Lysander said gently. “Just let it go. He’s always been an ass. Let’s get you out of here. We still have to give our kitty his second dose after all.”

“Still? And what about the game? Are they postponing? Is it cancelled?”

Lysander took a deep breath, leading Jordan from the cell. They passed down the hall back to the lobby of the station, the elf waiting until they were outside.

“So… the game was cancelled, obviously. But they’re planning a rematch in a few days. The issue is, Alistar said he would not play if you were still on our team at that time. So, you’ve been kicked off the team, we have no keeper, and thus, we can’t play anyway.”

“What? That’s fucking bullshit! What is his problem?!”

“Well, I’m assuming you don’t know Alistar Retty. He’s always been in the loud minority for anti wolf issues,” Lysander explained. “This isn’t about you Jordan. He saw a chance to spout off about his beliefs while being seen as a victim, and he’s capitalizing on the opportunity.”

“Did you see the news?” Jordan frowned.

“No, but it’s always the same. After the werewolf match, he always talks about how violently we play and how he doesn’t like to play against dogs who don’t know whether to kick the ball or hump it.”

Jordan grumbled as Lysander opened their car. The werewolves slid in, Lysander starting on the short drive home.

“I think they’ll have most of the runes gone by tonight,” the elf mentioned. “How did you even see them? I can’t even see the tech runes on the field; you’re not supposed to see them.”

“The crowd isn’t supposed to see them,” Jordan muttered tiredly. “They’re painted cream coloured to blend in with the sideline. I felt the heat of the other runes, like they were drawing on the heat of the crowd to help power them. Stands must have been chilly.”

“Yeah, Damian mentioned there was a chill in the air,” Lysander frowned. “I’m really glad you noticed them.”

“So am I,” Jordan scoffed. “I’d rather not die in a fucking fireball, despite how much the world seems to be trying to burn me.”

“I think a night with the mates is just what you need. A nice bit of snuggling, some neko juice, maybe a bit of Mydaran sausage…”

“Mydaran sausage is some of my favourite,” Jordan chuckled quietly. “I have a bad habit of biting it in half though.”

“Hmm, we might have to work on that then. The big bad wolf wouldn’t like it if you bit his best feature off.”

“Well, we’ll need a lot of practice then. And I did sort of promise a certain neko he could use my ass tonight. I guess that means I'm in the middle tonight.”

“You going to be okay with that?” Lysander questioned.

“Actually… yeah. I’m kind of looking forward to it for once.”