When from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
(Marcel Proust, Swann's Way)

The sky was yellow, choked with pollution pouring out of several tall black smokestacks in the distance, but Jay paid the poisoned air no mind. The gas mask he wore both obscured his face and cleaned the toxins from the atmosphere, leaving him to breathe clean oxygen that smelled faintly of rubber and disinfectant. Years spent wearing the device as a disguise had left him accustomed to the odor, to the mask itself inhaling and exhaling, to viewing the world through plastic lenses. Right now, he was looking through those lenses in search of one man, though all he could see at the moment were the rippling waves of heat rolling across the baked, abandoned soil.

?Vathiar! Show yourself!? Jay shouted, as best he could through the muffling mask. His foe?s reply shook the very foundations of the earth, a booming, reverberating shout that came from the heavens itself.

?WHY SHOULD I, MAGESLAYER? YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN TASKED WITH, WHO YOU ARE TRIFLING WITH! A PILE OF THE CORPSES OF ALL THE MAGESLAYERS I HAVE KILLED WOULD REACH TO GOD HIMSELF! YOU ARE A PATHETIC INSECT, AND I SHALL FLATTEN YOU IN DUE TIME.?

?Why not now, Vathiar? Is it ?cuz I?ve succeeded where those others failed? ?Cuz I hurt you in RhyDin, hunted you through your dreams, locked you inside your own mind? ?Cuz you can?t hurt me with any of your spells?? Immediately after Jay?s last comment, a bolt of lightning crashed out of the clouds and struck Jay square in the head. The only sign that the bolt had struck its target true was the smoke pouring off of Jay?s body and the tang of ozone in the air. He stood there for a second, blinking, then laughed. ?You gotta do better than that. C?mere and fight me, man to man.? Jay?s grip on his buckler tightened, and he waggled his wooden baseball bat. ?I?ve got my own pile of corpses to complete,? he sneered. It was half-bluff, half-truth. Some of the mages he had encountered on the trail to Vathiar had not resisted. Some had. Those who had resisted fared poorly. Another lightning strike lashed out from the sky, but this time Jay held up his bat like a lightning rod. The electricity crackled and sparked around the bat in clear violation of the rules of conductivity, before the wood sucked in the energy and spat it back towards the clouds. Jay watched this blast of energy arc upwards until it reached its target. Though invisible, Jay could still hear the wizard cry out when his redirected attack struck him.

?SON OF A BITCH!?

?It ain?t gonna work, Vathiar. The only way you?re gonna beat me is hand-to-hand. ?

??SO BE IT!? The skies rang out with a thunder-clap, and slowly, Jay?s ears filled with the sound of buzzing. A handful of carrion flies suddenly appeared before Jay, where nothing but dust and dirt had been before. They flew in agitated rings and circles, growing gradually from a small group into a human-shaped horde. Then, with a ripple and burst of putrid air, Vathiar appeared.

Age had stolen much from the mage. Much of his hair was gone, and the few stringy strands still clinging stubbornly to his skull had been bleached of all color. He wore thick lensed glasses, and his eyes were rheumy and red-rimmed. His shoulders were stooped, and it wasn?t hard to imagine that he once stood an inch or two taller than his current hunched-over form. The most obvious sign of his age was his skin: a sickly yellow that eerily seemed to match the poisoned sky, heavily wrinkled and leathery in texture. At random intervals, what looked like black lightning flickered and crawled across his skin and moth-eaten robes. In his right hand was a pouch, in his left a staff with a smoky gray crystal topping it.

?I?m only doing this, boy, because I tire of this tedious game, and your meddlesome behavior. All we wanted was to be free, and we very nearly were, save for your efforts. I underestimated you, and yours. A mistake I will not make twice!? Vathiar punctuated his exclamation by suddenly leveling his staff at Jay. A ball of flame erupted from the crystal and left no time for Jay to dodge or lift his shield in defense. Yet after the orange wave had washed over him, he was unsinged, a trail of smoke behind him the only sign the spell had ever been cast. Jay began walking slowly towards Vathiar, who fired off every spell he could think of. Vathiar summoned razor winds to cut Jay?s flesh to ribbons, but the blades merely bounced off him like his skin was made of iron. Vathiar summoned a blizzard, a tornado, a hurricane, poisonous fog, even a meteor shower, but neither cold nor wind nor driving rain nor toxic clouds nor rocks pulled from the heavens themselves could stop Jay. Finally, he was nearly two body lengths from the mage, who desperately tried to put distance between himself and his assailant by slashing at the ground with his staff. Slowly, a giant gaping pit began to form between Jay and Vathiar, but the blue-haired boy simply broke into a sprint and leapt across the gap. Behind him, the earth crashed and tumbled into oblivion, leaving them at the edge of a newly formed cliff. Desperate, Vathiar swung his staff at Jay?s head, but the blow was easily blocked by the buckler in his hand. Jay?s counter-attack was swift and vicious, a blow aimed at the hand holding the pouch. He saw Vathiar?s fingers break, contorting themselves at impossible angles as the man screamed, dropped his pouch, and gripped his wrist. The pouch emptied its contents into the dirt, glittering diamond dust that was quickly blown away by a gust of wind. Vathiar swore at Jay, but the ?mageslayer? just stood there, watching him, expressions hidden behind his mask.

?It?s over, Vathiar. You can?t win this fight. Give up, come back with me to RhyDin, and pay for your crimes.?

?I will die first, and so will you!? The mage spat at Jay, which was just enough of a distraction. The split-second Jay spent glancing down at his sweatshirt, where the foul black-and-yellow globule of spit had struck him, was just enough time for Vathiar to act. By the time Jay saw him swinging the crystal end of his staff towards the ground, it was too late. The glass broke with a deafening boom, and their bodies were enveloped in white light. The last thing Jay saw before the white light gave way to bottomless black was Vathiar?s leering face, sneering his last words. ?I?ll see you in hell, mageslayer.?

?Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future.?
(Steve Miller Band, ?Fly Like an Eagle?)

?Good to see you up.? The healer walked through the doorway and leaned against the frame, looking at Jay, who was still lying in bed. His room was quite plain ? no paintings or photographs or pictures of any sort on the white painted walls, no nick-knacks or clock on the dresser, no books on the nightstand, no papers or pens on the desk. Even the sheets and blankets were colorless, a thick white down comforter over sheets of the same color, and the pillows plain as well. If it weren?t for the pungent odor of herbs wafting through the room, it might have passed for a room in a hospital. The jumble of scents fighting for the attention of Jay?s nose, and the healer?s attire ? a simple green tunic and brown knee-high breeches, with no medical tools on his person ? made it quite clear this was no hospital.

?Yeah. I?ve been sleeping a while, right??

?Two days, give or take a few hours.? As soon as the healer had finished speaking, Jay started doing the math on his fingers.

?So it?s, uh, July 23.? At Jay?s response, the other man shot him a confused look, eyebrows arched.

?Not-not quite.?

?What do you mean, ?not quite?? I left here June 21, and was out of town for a month, and I?ve been sleeping two days. July 23.?

?Well, you must have been way ?out of town? ?" The healer frowned slightly, casting doubt on Jay?s claims, before continuing, "? because it?s April 3.?

?Shit.? Jay shot a dirty look over towards the man, before his features softened. ?Sorry. Not your fault. Wait?what year??

?What-what do you mean??

?What?year? is?it today??

?Uhm?4708??

?Fuck! I?ve missed 2698 years? Ah?fuck.? Jay felt his eyes beginning to water, and he stared down at his knees desperately. He heard rather than saw the man fidget, shoes scraping against the floor, and he shooed him off with a wave of his hand. ?Please?I need to be alone.?

?Yes, right, well, if you need anything, just yell. I?ll be over in the other room.?

?Yeah. Great. Thanks.? Jay didn?t even look up to watch the man leave, though as soon as he knew that he was gone, he started swearing under his breath. It was either that, or weep bitterly.

??People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.?
(Albert Einstein)

The RhyDin of 4708 seemed to differ little from the RhyDin of 2010, but that didn?t surprise Jay. He had lived in RhyDin long enough to pick up on the city?s rhythms, its pulse, and the way things worked on a day-to-day basis. Change came at a glacial pace, and the modern had always mixed with the ancient in a way that was simultaneously anachronistic and respectful of the old ways. Asphalt and concrete and pavement existed in parts of the city, but the cobblestoned streets that weaved their way through much of RhyDin wouldn?t be torn out by jackhammers any time soon. There were cars and motorcycles and planes, but that hadn?t eliminated horse-drawn carriages, steam-powered airships, or man-powered bicycles. In many ways, it was a lot like Earth, only amplified and with magic. He clung to the familiar like a blanket as he walked to the Marketplace and Delric?s Dawgs.

It was mid-afternoon, about an hour and a half past the usual lunch hour, so the line in front of Delric?s cart was short: a man in a charcoal three-piece suit, currently exchanging coins for two hot dogs wrapped in butcher?s paper, and a dwarf with a Mohawk that added almost enough height for him to come up to the businessman?s shoulder. The business man dropped a pair of coppers in the tip jar located next to the napkin dispenser, and then the dwarf in line stepped onto a stool placed in front of the cart for shorter customers. Jay fell in line behind him, listening in on their conversation.

?Ach, fuck you Delric,? the mohawked dwarf said, though his smile and bright tone of voice made it clear he was just kidding with the hot dog man.

?Och, the same to you, Thoris. Trying to take advantage of my generosity.?

?Generosity, my ass! Yer just a cheapskate. Won?t even give a free meal to your own flesh and blood.?

?Cousin,? Delric corrected him, laughing. ?But linked by blood, yes. But I cannot be giving free food to all who share blood with me. Do you want me in the poorhouse??

Thoris belly-laughed, then dug through his pockets for coins. ?Hell no, cousin. Hell no. Gimme a chili cheese dog, extra onions.?

Delric lifted one of his thick, bushy eyebrows. ?Got a big date?? he deadpanned.

?You sodding know it. Victalynn and I are catching the Gottes Verschrottung concert tonight.? Thoris preemptively took a napkin from the dispenser, while Delric opened up the storage cabinet inside his cart and retrieved a new bag of hot dog buns. After tearing it open, he pulled one out, opened up the steam tray, placed the hot dog in the bun, then ladled chili on top. He topped it off with one spoonful of shredded cheddar and two spoonfuls of chopped onions, then wrapped the chili cheese dog in butcher?s paper and handed it over to Thoris. The mohawked dwarf paid him, and then dropped a silver in the jar.

?Yeah, you go ahead and enjoy that,? Delric said, rolling his eyes slightly. ?Me, I?ll stick to music that isn?t made with jack hammers and stones.?

?You just got no fucking taste in music, cousin. But?? Thoris unwrapped the paper and took a big bite of the hot dog. Despite the fact his mouth was full, he talked. ?Mhu make?an awesome?d?dog. Don?t get into too much trouble.?

?You too, Thoris.? Delric waved as Thoris turned around, nearly bumping into Jay.

?Och! Stone below! Were you there that whole fucking time?? Thoris straightened up, muscles bunching beneath a tight leather jacket.

?Uh?yeah?? Jay didn?t back down, but he also didn?t flex his muscles or scowl at Thoris. In response, the dwarf relaxed his aggressive pose. Then, he leaned forward a bit and eyed Jay curiously.

?I know you from somewhere??

?I don?t think so. I?just got into town.?

?You look like someone my cousin used to talk about.?

?Lemme guess,? Jay said, laughing. ?Someone with blue hair, right??

?Yeah!? Thoris snapped his fingers and grinned. ?That?s right!?

?Yeah, sorry, it?s not me. I literally just popped in here, like, a week ago or so.?

?Oh?okay. Cool. And, uh, sorry about...that.? Thoris frowned, sheepishly. Jay just waved him off and waved him past.

?No, dude, it?s cool. Take care.?

?Stone?s strength to you.? Thoris turned back and clenched his hand into a tight fist, then continued on his way.

After Jay?s shock at the discovery he wasn?t 2000-plus years in the future had subsided, Ravalynn took him to one of her favorite restaurants, located a few blocks away from the Stoneworking District.

?They call it a Mongolian bar-bee-que,? she said, slightly mispronouncing the unfamiliar word. ?They have all the meats and cheeses and vegetables and seasonings available for anyone to pick up and put on their plate, and then they cook it in front of you. But they also were nice enough to let me just get meat, and just eat it raw.? Jay had done his best at that moment not to show his queasiness at the idea of eating raw chicken or steak.

The building was located at one of the corners of an intersection. There was patio space on the sidewalk, an awning that hung over the entryway and the full-pane windows facing the main road, and smaller awnings over the smaller windows facing the side street. Above the restaurant was a second story of pale rectangular granite, with evenly spaced windows ? either a series of apartments, or storage space for the restaurant, or an unfilled office. Jay couldn?t tell for sure.

They entered the restaurant and were seated at one of the tables located next to a side street window. Jay took a moment in between being seated and the waiter coming to get their drink orders to look out the window. Somehow, the world outside felt more different than it had when he thought he was in the distant future. The fact it was mere months, instead of two millennia, that had passed, only heightened the feeling that he didn?t belong. Not even a year gone, he thought, and I don?t really know anybody besides a woman I only met two or three times. It might as well have been two thousand years.

?So what have you been up to?? Ravalynn asked, bringing Jay out of his daydream.

?Oh?uh, when??

?Whenever. Since you got back. Since the last time you were here. Since the last time I saw you??

?Since I got back, I?ve been running errands and stuff for the guy who healed me when I got back. You know a guy named Bell?? Ravalynn shook her head. ?Okay. Yeah, he healed me because I didn?t come back in the best shape.?

?What happened?? The waiter set down their drink orders ? a glass of water for Ravalynn, a cola for Jay ? and told them they could go to the buffet whenever they were ready. They remained seated, and continued talking.

?You know, the usual Nexus stuff ? it puts you down in the worst possible place it can, lots of times. In the air above a hot dog stand, for one.? Ravalynn laughed lightly at that, and Jay joined in her laughter soon after, before trying to move the conversation in a different direction. ?How?s your family doing??

?Oh, Zan?s doing well. Grace drives him crazy now and then, but that?s not too surprising. She wants to be a warrior just like her daddy, and Zan wants her to be anything but that.?

?Yeah, not an easy line of work, I bet.? Jay looked off to the side for a moment, and then drank some of his soda. It was much sweeter than he had remembered, but that was probably because it had been so long since he had drank any ? weeks, by his internal calendar, months, by the world?s.

?Oh?? She had caught the look, and was curious as to what it meant. Her hands rested under her chin, her elbows folded on the table, and she looked Jay in the eye. Jay did his best to hold the eye contact, but he squirmed in his seat to deal with the discomfort.

?Fighting for a living," he answered in a half-mumble. "Like a cop or a soldier or something, y'know.? After answering, he looked down at the table and the clean white paper placemat in front of him. Fortunately, his response left Ravalynn uncomfortable as well. She looked towards the window too, and Jay seized the opportunity. He stood up from the table, smiling faintly and rubbing his stomach. ?I?m feeling kinda hungry. Mind if I go up there and we continue this conversation after some food??

?Sure,? Ravanlynn said, standing as well. ?Sure.? With that, the blue-haired boy and the blue-scaled woman went up to the buffet and began filling their bowls with lamb and ribeye steak.

The voice first came back as mumbling, dull and unintelligible in the back of Jay?s head, and easily dismissed with a few minutes of meditation, a cigarette outside, or a couple of beers at the bar. It wasn?t the first time the beast slipped through, and he thought little of it, until the voice got stronger. A few days later, it had moved on to murmuring, words and phrases that cut through his mind more often than he wanted them to.

Meat?moon?They need to die?Let me out.

The old solutions were no longer available to Jay. No job in a health care facility, so no tranquilizers to smuggle out. No connection to his goddess, so Her hand could no longer protect him, and meditation became less and less effective. And after his battle with the mage, his magic had been burned out, including the magic tattoos they had given him to seal in the wolf. Now, the only thing between him and his worst nightmare was alcohol. Beer gave way to malt liquor gave way to whiskey and vodka, drowning out the beast when he needed it most. He knew, however, that it was only going to work for so long. He had to find a way to nip this in the bud, before it short-circuited the new life he was building for himself working at Goldheart Ironworks.

Unfortunately, it wasn?t the sort of enemy you could fight hand-to-hand, or with a baseball bat, as Jay so often preferred. It wasn?t even an enemy he could see. He would have to try a new tactic. As ineffective as it had been at times, he decided that meditation was his only hope. He would try to delve deeper than he had ever done before. It was more than just calming the mind, and different than communing with Swapneshwari. He was going to dig through his psyche, find the wolf, and tame it.

He sat on the floor of his room, his feet pressed together at the soles, and his hands clasped in front of him. As he began murmuring in Hindi, his eyes fluttered shut.

***

It was a bar. It was?the pool hall? No, the dive bar the underage skate punks went when they wanted to drink, even if it was overpriced pitchers of Bud Light. No, it was both, and others. Dark, dingy, with neon signs hanging in windows criss-crossed with wrought-iron bars, ashtrays at each table and every few feet on the bar, and one resting on a pool table with the embers of a cigar slowly burning out. Jay found himself seated at a bar, next to a man clad in a leather jacket with long and greasy brown hair, jeans with holes worn out in the knees, and equally worn work boots. When the man spotted Jay looking at him, he glared at first, before grinning widely and turning his head so that Jay could see his left cheek. From near his ear down to his chin, there were four angry pink lines marring his features. Claw marks, Jay thought to himself, before recoiling and nearly falling off his stool. The man smiled, even more wolfishly.

?Like my handiwork??

It took Jay a moment to regain his senses, and another moment to swing a hard left at the man. He whiffed on the punch, as the man leaned out of the way, then counter-attacked with a chop to the throat. Jay clutched at his Adam?s apple, lost his balance, and tumbled off the stool, falling with a clatter and crash onto the floor of the bar. It smelled like peanut shells and stale beer, and his cheek rested on something wet. Beer? He touched a hand to his face, and then glanced at his fingers. No, blood. Jay jumped to his feet quickly, attempting to throw another punch. Instead of dodging this blow, the man just grabbed Jay?s fist, squeezed his knuckles until he thought they would burst, then twisted his arm violently and shoved him against the bar back first. Jay glanced at the bartender upside down, but the man didn?t seem to be paying them any attention. Jay looked left, then right, but the other patrons didn?t seem to notice.

?Cut that shit out, and sit. You wanted me here, I?m here. Don?t be a fucking idiot and try to fight me. You?re gonna lose.?

Kneeling, Jay picked up the knocked-over stool and set it back on his legs, before gingerly taking a seat again.

?There we go,? the man said, almost cooing, though the rough edges of his voice made it impossible to imagine him ever speaking softly and kindly to anyone. ?Much better.?

?What do you want??

?Excuse me?? The man broke into howling laughter, and slapped the bar a couple of times. ?Kid, you called me here, and you?re asking me what I want? Holy hell, you?re not that bright are you? Or you didn?t think this through??

?Fine,? Jay huffed, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from the pocket of his jeans. He pulled a cigarette out, lit it, and exhaled. He thought of exhaling in his antagonist?s face, but decided not to. ?I want to know what you want.?

?Oh, that?? The man laughed again. ?Jesus, all you had to do was ask. Or stop drinking. Or getting drugged up. Or?those goddamn tattoos.? He pointed at Jay?s arms, now clean of ink. ?If you were just willing to pay attention, you?d have found out. It?s simple. I?m hungry. I need to kill. To spread. But you-? He jabbed a finger into Jay?s chest, almost pushing him back off the stool. ?You fight it. More than maybe anyone I?ve ever been in. The drinks, the drugs, the tattoos, the- chanting mantra shit. Most people just give in. So?we?re at odds.?

?Yeah, I?d say that?s about fucking right, buddy,? Jay said, finally giving in to the urge to blow smoke in the man?s face. He didn?t wince, didn?t cough, didn?t even wave it away. ?You want me to kill, and I ain?t gonna do that.?

?Oh, bullshit!? The man slammed his fist against the bar, shaking drinks across its length. ?You?ve killed lots of shit. I know. I?m up-? Instead of finishing the sentence, he pointed at Jay?s forehead, then pressed his finger against it and rubbed, as if smudging something into his skin.

?Evil things, though. Night mares, succubuses, incubuses, hags-?

?Mages?? The man interrupted to ask.

?Just the one. I just captured the rest.?

?Was he evil??

?Well, yes.? The man seized on the split-second of hesitation.

?To you, and to your employers, he was.?

?He used blood magic, and foul necromancy!?

?According to your employers. Did you bother to investigate?? Jay sat silent. ?Did you? Did you??

??No.?

?No,? the man repeated, in a mocking tone. ?So you have no moral high ground to stand on! I, on the other hand, am nothing if not honest.?

?Fine. Whatever. Look, I?m not letting you out.?

?I don?t think you have a choice.? In response to that, Jay mimed pointing a gun at his head and pulling the trigger. The man just laughed. ?I know you too well, Jay. You don?t have the guts, or you?d have done it already. Remember?? He tapped his forehead, then Jay?s.

?I?ve been at this for a while now, Wolf. You don?t think I can keep it up??

?If you did, you wouldn?t be here. So here?s my offer: I lend you my power, no strings attached, do whatever you want with it, for 29 days a month.?

?And give you one day?? Jay scoffed. ?No deal.?

?Better one day out of control than all of them. And better I lend you my power on those 29 days, and let you have some say on the 30th. I know you. You can handle power, like none of the others can. I know you miss the powers you had. I can more than make up for that, and such a small price to pay.?

?No deal.?

?You?re sure?? The Wolf gestured towards the bartender, who wordlessly swung by with a bottle of beer. Biting the edges of the bottlecap, the man pulled it off with his teeth, grinning with the cap in his mouth before spitting it back onto the bar.

?Yes.?

?Well, I gave you a chance to have it on your terms.? The Wolf took that moment to look Jay in the eye and curl his lip back into a snarl. ?Sooner or later, you will break. And then, you will reap none of the benefits.?

Before Jay could respond, the bar faded into white, and the vision ended.

When it came to nightmares, hags, and other beasts that went bump in the night and haunted the dreams of humans, the RhyDin Orphanage was a prime target. Children were naturally more susceptible to bad dreams, especially children whose parents had passed away, or who had abandoned them to the mercies of the state (or what passed for it in the intermittently lawless realm of RhyDin). They were also more likely to believe that there was a monster hiding in their closet, or under their bed, and this belief, and the fear that ensued from it, made them stronger yet. As a Dreamwalker, Jay had fought many battles in and around the orphanage, and within the dreams of the children sleeping there. How much of a difference had he really made, though?

Jay felt like there was no real way to know. He couldn?t just stroll into the orphanage and inquire about the well-being of the children, particularly when he never bothered to get anything more than a first name from the children he had saved. Such a request would undoubtedly be treated with suspicion and scorn. Sneaking around to get the answers he wanted wasn?t a good idea either. If he got caught breaking into a room full of children, suspicion and scorn would be the least of his worries. Children shrieking, the house mom striking him with a rolling pin, city guards pounding the cobblestones to rescue the little ones before the assailant kidnapped the kids or worse. No, that wasn?t a solution either. And of course, he could no longer travel through dreams to meet them there and ask. The only thing that likely existed were adoption records and release forms, for those kids fortunate enough to find a new family and those who were too old to be wards of the state, respectively. It would be cold data, names and addresses and personal effects and nothing about the emotions of these children, whether they felt happy and safe and free.

` So with that in mind, Jay went to a candy shop in the Marketplace. Garl?s Candy was a tiny store tucked away on one of the Marketplace?s side streets, closer to the houses and apartments in the area than the main strip of businesses, or the central plaza itself. Both the exterior and interior were decorated in dark woods, and felt Bavarian in design. The store was narrow in width, barely fitting four shelves, the cashier, and several massive wood barrels filled with wrapped gum and penny candies, but those shelves stretched back for what felt like a city block. And oh, what treats there were! There were chocolates of every size, shape, color, and flavor imaginable. There were gummy fruits, gummy bears, gummy worms, gummy dinosaurs, and gummy dragons. There were jawbreakers and malted milk balls and candy flavored with fruits from across the multiverse, from apples to naur?yavea to sweetstones. It was stuffed to the brim, such that it was almost impossible to travel down the aisles to browse its wares.

The bell attached to the door chimed when Jay entered, and the diminutive gnome who had to stand on a box to see over the counter greeted him cheerily. Garl wore a plain white apron over a brown shirt and slacks, and wore a set of small hooped gold earrings. His hair was light blonde, and his deep blue eyes seemed to radiate happiness along with the rest of his facial features.

?Good day! Welcome to Garl?s Candy! Can I help you find anything today??

?Uh, good day,? Jay half-mumbled, confused by Garl?s enthusiasm. ?I?m looking for candy canes, actually. Like, a lot of them.?

?How many is a lot? A dozen? Enough to put on a Christmas tree?? Garl asked the questions rapidfire, as if he may have eaten too many sweets himself.

Jay scratched his head. ?I dunno. Like, a hundred or so? I?m, uh?I want to give them as a little Christmas gift to the orphanage. I?d give more, but I think candy?s about all I can afford.?

?Oh, they?ll love it!? Garl said, clapping his hands for good measure. ?I?m not sure if we have that many in stock right now, but we can certainly get that many made before the big day.?

?And delivered??

?Certainly.? Garl winked. ?We?ll even have them dress as Santa and some of his elves.?

?Well?good. Good.? This time, Jay said the word with a smile. ?So yeah, I?ll pay for that now, and you can just let me know when everything?s done and shipped out??

?Of course.?

?Oh, please don?t tell them who it came from?" Jay interjected, before Garl could respond further. "It?s, uh, not important. I mean, I want them to know the candy?s safe to eat, y?know, but I?m not doing this to get attention or anything like that.?

Garl winked again, a slower, more deliberate wink, and spoke more deliberately than before. ?I understand. It?s the spirit of the season, right??

?Yeah, something like that.?

"Good. I can certainly do that."

Buying the candy canes for the orphanage tapped out Jay?s bar funds for the rest of the year. It was worth every copper.

?I didn't know her family or friends at all
With no one to call, summer turned to fall, I gave up.?
(The Dismemberment Plan, ?The Face of the Earth?)

December 11, 2011 R.S.C.

Jay had changed, and hadn?t changed, since he had returned to RhyDin. Appearance-wise, he no longer had his tattoos, and he had shaved all his messy blue hair off and let it grow back into its normal brown shade. Yet the litany of scars stuck with him, traveling nearly head to toe. The gash scars on his shins, the stitching scars on his right wrist and the back of his head, the thin pink line under his chin if he lifted his head up, and most noticeably, the claw marks cutting across his left cheek. They would not go away, so long as he was just scraping by on his earnings at Goldheart Ironworks. Maybe he didn?t want them to go away.

Jay wanted to believe he was different mentally, after all these years in RhyDin, after all of the crap he had been forced to face and deal with. That he had emerged from fighting that dream invasion, living on the streets, going to debtors? prison, and working off his debts for anti-magic advocates a better person. A person who was stronger, smarter, braver, tougher, more equipped to face what life might throw at him. Of course, it was a lie. Stopping by the duels earlier that week had proven that to him.

He had seen Candy, and hadn?t done the mature thing. Still paranoid (so much for bravery) about who might be watching him, he had gone to the duels wearing a hood that covered most of his face. And there she had been. Apparently, she was back in town, or had never left, and was now calling duels. He should have just told her he was back, but as soon as he saw her and recognized her, he retreated into that hood, giving Taneth his Catholic name instead of his real name, and avoiding Candy as best as he could. Then Taneth started getting inquisitive, wondering why he was looking at Candy, talking her up and generally bringing way more attention to an awkward situation than he wanted. Jay knew that his cover had been blown, that Candy knew he was back, and that he hadn?t done a damn thing but avoid her. Things couldn?t have gone much worse.

***

Jay woke up the day after the full moon with a massive headache that was equal parts migraine, hangover, and some other kind of throbbing head pain. When he finally found the strength to push himself out of bed, walk to the bathroom, and look in the mirror, he saw (mostly with his right eye) that he had a massive shiner over his left eye and a bruise that left it partially swollen. The night before flash backed. Christ, I really did try to knock myself out. For all the fucking good it did me. He turned away from the mirror, groaning, and stumbled through his morning shower and shave. After taking a couple of Tylenol and pouring himself a tall glass of water, he slipped beneath the sheets and tried to go back to sleep.

A half hour later, the headache had subsided some, but he still couldn?t sleep. Grumbling, Jay slipped out of bed for the second time that day, changed out of his day-old clothes into a fresher pair of jeans, underwear, and a black t-shirt, and grabbed the hooded sweatshirt he had hung on the front door knob. After putting that on, he put on his coat, got his keys and smokes, and headed out the door. Maybe fresh air would clear things up.

As he walked the street, he wanted to laugh at the people who were also out and about who saw him and immediately pulled away from him. Their smiles faded and their faces clenched. They walked faster, stood up straighter, or crossed the street in quick, nervous bursts. It reminded Jay of his punk days in California. The only difference was in RhyDin, it took a busted-up face to get that reaction, not blue hair, an eyebrow ring, or arms full of tattoos. It made him smile when it a young couple reacted that way, or an old man walking his dog. Jay frowned, though, when a mother holding hands with her two children seemed to drag them across the street to get away from him. For all she knows, I had no good reason to get a black eye. A dark mood settled on Jay, and he could feel the migraine/hangover/head injury combo threatening him.

By the time Jay had made it back to Candy?s old apartment, he was rubbing his temples, fervently praying that his headache wouldn?t get any worse. He still had to walk back home, after all, and finish all the errands he couldn?t do yesterday while he was preparing for the full moon. Yet despite all that, here he was, eight months later, returning to the scene of the crime. Three seasons had passed, spring breezes giving way to summer heat giving way to crisp autumn air, and now, every footstep crunched snow and ice beneath his shoes. He made sure the curb was clear of ice and snow before he sat down, in nearly the same spot, and pulled out his cigarettes and lighter.

After lighting a smoke and inhaling, Jay found himself speaking, leaning back just enough so that he could look up at the sky and address the words to the dim sun clad in gray clouds. ?I?m still sorry, y?know. I mean, sorry as in sorry for what happened, and I guess sorry because I?m a crappy person.? He shook his head and laughed quietly. ?I mean, I should be saying this to your face, and not to?whatever. The sun, the sky, the building you lived at forever ago. It?s shitty of me. It?s cowardly. To hide, to avoid all that awkward stuff. I should just be a man and deal with it, but?yeah. I?ve gotten good at dodging my problems. I was doing it back home, and I?ve been doing it pretty much ever since I got here instead of just fucking nutting up and dealing with it. It?s gotten me nothing but trouble and bull-shit. Maybe?hopefully I can get my shit together and do all the stuff I want to do but always seem to find excuses not to do.? Now, he mumbled. ?Or maybe I?ll just keep doing the same old shit over and over again. Man, I don?t know.? Tossing his cigarette into a snow bank with a low hiss, he stood up and turned to go back down the road that eventually would take him home. He muttered to himself as he walked away. ?I?m still sorry, you know. Means something, right?...Fuck me, I gotta headache...?

Pop open a bottle of bubbly, yeah
Here's to another goddamn new year
(The Dismemberment Plan, ?The Ice of Boston?)

December 31, 2011 R.S.C./January 1, 2012 R.S.C.

Jay?s apartment didn?t have a balcony, so he had to hoof it to the top floor of his apartment complex, jimmy the lock for the rooftop door open, and stick a brick in the doorway before going up to look out on his city. His building wasn?t tall, only five stories, so his view of the skyline and the horizon was blocked by taller buildings and the hills of Battlefield Park. Still, there was enough of a window for him to see what he had come up here to see. He put down the cheap bottle of champagne he?d purchased at the local bodega and retrieved his cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket. He very nearly purchased a cigar from the shop, but decided at the very last minute he couldn?t afford the luxury. Plain ?ol cigarettes would have to do tonight.

Jay didn?t have a watch or a clock up on the roof, so he was dependent on the muffled laughter of other party-goers in his building and in other homes and apartments in the neighborhood for cues on the countdown. He sat near the edge of the roof, the winds stronger and more biting than on ground level, but he paid them no mind. He lit a cigarette and watched the sky, waiting. Finally, after what was probably a few minutes, the muted and scattered conversations of his neighbors became one, as what sounded like rhythmic counting in many different languages took over all dialogue in the city. The pressure seemed to build up in the very walls and windows of RhyDin, before it finally dissipated in loud cries. ?Lotoc Z'ar Eorikc!? hissed one group in draconic. ?Cadia Baern Os!? trilled another group of elves. ?Happy New Year!? came the familiar cry in Common. A split-second later, the conversations and cheers were drowned out by the boom of fireworks launched near where the sea met the river. With his cigarette clenched between his teeth, Jay picked up the bottle, peeled off the foil, and turned the bottle while keeping a firm hand on the cork. Moments later, the cork popped off and fell onto the rooftop gravel, and champagne frothed out onto his coat and jeans. He spat the nearly finished cigarette over the edge of the roof, before taking a long swig straight from the bottle, spilling some on his chin and chest. He wiped his face clean with the back of his hand, set the bottle back down, and retrieved another cigarette to smoke. Every minute or so, he switched the cigarette over to his right hand and grabbed the bottle for a drink, eyes still trained on the fireworks display.

When the bottle was about half-empty, and the final salvo of fireworks had been launched, leaving only the aftershocks of the blasts ringing in everyone?s ears, Jay stood up, champagne still in hand. He held the bottle out at arm?s length, and then lifted it up in a toast. ?I think?I think this?s gonna be a better year.? He laughed a little, looking down and shaking his head. ?It better be.? With that, he put the bottle back to his lips and drank deeply.

Narrator: After fighting, everything else in your life got the volume turned down.
(Fight Club)

January 7-8, 2012 R.S.C.

The aftermath of Jay?s duels at the Arena and the Outback was rough. In addition to the broken left thumb he?d suffered earlier in the week punching Candy in the knee during a duel, he was sporting two new war wounds. His right cheek was gashed from where the 13-foot giant Leroy had struck him with a chain, and his left shoulder was separated, dislocated, or had in some way been rendered incapable of lifting his arm above his head, thanks an evening of blocking pummeling blows from Leroy and an minotaur at the Arena. The arm injury in particular had made the trip back from the Brawler tricky. With no left arm to aid in gripping, he was forced to lean much closer to Candy on the back of her motorcycle than he had the previous time he rode with her. He tried not to think about the ride, or anything related to that evening. It hadn?t been a bright moment for him.

Once Jay had entered his apartment building, and taken the steps up to his apartment, he had the pleasure of licking his wounds. Without assistance, removing the dented buckler he?d strapped to his back with hooked bungee cords was much trickier. Unlike when he?d strapped it on, there was no one in his apartment to help. He gritted his teeth and slid the buckler off of his back slowly, leaving it to rest close to the apartment door. Next, he went to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a couple of Band-Aids, placing them over the cut on his cheek. Gauze probably would have been better, perhaps even stitches, but those were luxuries he didn?t have there and couldn?t afford to get. While he was putting away the box of Band-Aids, he pulled out a jar of Tylenol and downed three. He was going to be sore in the morning, and he was probably going to have a migraine. After stepping out of the bathroom, he took off his shoes and then unzipped his jeans, kicking them to the side. The upper body was where the real challenge was going to be. It was easy enough to unzip the blood-stained coat and shrug out of the sleeves, then toss the (most likely ruined) garment on top of the jeans. The thermal shirt and tee underneath the coat were much harder. He had to pull both shirts off with one hand, and he got stuck with the t-shirt on his head for a minute or so before he got it loose and over. Now naked except for his underwear and socks, he slipped under the covers and tried to sleep.

***

The morning was even worse. The Wolf wouldn?t let Jay sleep. His blood was up, and the taste of violence Jay had begrudgingly given him wasn?t enough. He whined, pleaded, and howled all night long for Jay to go back out into the streets, to fight anyone and everyone he saw, never mind the busted shoulder, broken thumb, and slashed face. He wanted more, more than the duels, even more than what Jay had given him the night before. Eventually, the Wolf got tired of Jay ignoring him, and he let him catch a couple of hours of sleep. Before too long, though, the sun rose, its light cutting through the blinds and dancing on Jay?s face. He groaned, threw his right forearm futilely across his eyes to try and block the light, and eventually pulled himself out of bed. He didn?t bother to shower, or shave, or put on clothes. Instead, he fetched the extra pack of cigarettes, lighter, and ashtray that sat on the nightstand by his bed, pulled one out of the pack, and lit it as he walked over to his kitchenette. He opened the refrigerator door, pushed aside the milk and orange juice and Chinese takeout container from a couple of days earlier. Good, he thought to himself. Planned ahead nicely. Past those cartons and the container sat two twelve packs of Badsider he?d bought earlier in the week, and hoarded for Monday. But given the way the weekend had gone so far, and given the way it was likely to finish, getting an early start on those beers was probably a good idea. He pulled one from the pack, cracked it open, and took a long pull, before taking a seat at the blue vinyl-topped folding card table. Nearly naked, drinking and smoking on a Sunday morning. If Dad could see me now.

No one need think that the world can be ruled without blood. The civil sword shall and must be red and bloody.
(Andrew Jackson)

Sometime in October, R.S.C. 2011

?Go ahead and pick it up, Jay,? Ravalynn said, gesturing towards a mace, hanging from a rack of weapons behind the front counter at Goldheart Ironworks. Even on this cool mid-autumn day, the blast furnace within the shop kicked its heat all the way up to the front of the building, leaving Jay feeling like he was just about to sweat.

?It?s ready??

?All done except for the final quality testing. Let?s step outside.? He followed Ravalynn out of the store, through the heart of the heat and then past it, into the yard behind the shop. She opened the training ground gate and stepped inside, followed closely by Jay. She pointed towards one of the practice dummies wearing leather armor. Dutifully, Jay assumed a combat pose and swung the mace at the dummy, half-strength. ?Again, Jay,? Ravalynn said. ?Put more into it.? Jay did as he was asked and struck the dummy harder, leaving a dent and some straw missing from the side of its head.

?Nice,? he said with a smile, waggling the mace in his left hand.
?It is properly weighted, so that it feels like an extension of your arm, but the steel is well tempered. Be it sword, shield, spear, axe, or whatever your opponent may wield, your mace will match up against any of them.?

?Thank you. How much do I owe you?? he asked. Ravalynn just waved off the question.

?Don?t worry about it. Consider it part of the sponsorship deal, when you return to the duels. You are returning, right??

Ravalynn?s question prompted Jay to sigh. ?I think so?just?give me a little more time to train with the new weapon. I?m sure it?s different than the practice ones I?ve been using.?

?Sure. Zan says you?re ready-?

?And maybe I am,? Jay interrupted. ?Physically. I still don?t feel quite ready upstairs though. Soon, Ravalynn.?

The draconian woman?s cornflower blue eyes focused on Jay?s face, attempting to pierce his stoic fa?ade. Eventually, though, she sighed, a soft and hissing thing, and smiled weakly for him. ?Soon, then, Jay.?

***

December 16, R.S.C. 2011

?I fought yesterday,? Jay said, between drags of a cigarette. Zan was putting away his practice weapon, as well as Jay?s mace and shield. After Zan finished tidying up, he stepped back into the training yard and grabbed a bottle of water he had left on the fence.

?And?? Zan unscrewed the cap and splashed a little water on his neck and chest before sipping from the bottle.

?Won one, lost one. Beat somebody I?d never faced before, who pretty much treated it as a joke, and lost to someone who?s been around a while. Both pretty decisive.?

?What did you learn from thossse fightsss??

?There?s still a lot of masochistic girls and girls who just take off their clothes at the drop of a hat, and I gotta lot of work ahead of me if I want to progress further.?

?The baroniesss and Overlord, you mean.? Zan splashed some water over his bald head, sighing with relief.

?Yeah. If I can?t be competitive in a challenge for them, why bother? Course, I gotta get eight more duels in to make me eligible to challenge.? Jay stubbed out his cigarette on the fence post, and flicked the butt out away from the straw-filled yard. ?See you Monday??

Zan smiled a sharp, toothy smile. ?Yesss, Monday.?

January 2, R.S.C. 2012

?Again, Jay!? Zan called out in frustration, stepping back away from his sweating opponent. ?You?re not trying hard enough! You?re not attacking me with all your ssstrength!?

There it was again. Attacking full strength. Pulling his blows. Not putting full effort into training. How could Jay make this man see what would happen if he did that?

?Zan?I can?t attack you with all my strength. How many times have I told you??

?I don?t believe you,? the weaponsmaster retorted. ?You?re alwaysss holding back, and that?sss going to get you killed.?

?No!? Jay pivoted away from Zan, and swung his mace as hard as he could at one of the dummy?s heads. The blow cracked the head in half, and straw flew into the air and fell to the ground. With a smooth spin and swing, he slammed the mace into the neck of the next dummy in line, knocking the head clean off the body and sending it somersaulting over the wooden fence. It was his anger, and not exhaustion, that made Jay suck in deep breaths as he glared at Zan in a futile attempt to calm down. ?No no no!? Each additional ?no? was punctuated by pounding the mace on the stake that held the headless dummy in place, driving it deeper and deeper into the ground. ?You don?t understand! I?m not going to die if I don?t fight full strength. They?re going to die if I do! I know what I?m capable better than anyof you! Why won?t you fucking believe me?? Jay ended his tantrum by throwing down his buckler, and hurling his mace after the head he had just knocked off.

Zan took in Jay?s display with a stoic look on his face. When he finally sensed that his student was finished, he calmly began to put his own things away. While doing so, he glanced over his shoulder at Jay, who looked to be equal parts angry and anguished, and addressed him in an even tone of voice. ?We?ll pick thingsss up tomorrow, yesss??

All Jay could do was nod his head slowly.

January 10, R.S.C. 2012

?No. No, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!?

With each successive ? and louder ? "no," Jay slammed the receiver of the payphone down harder and harder against the cradle. Soon, the plastic ear piece shattered, and wires spilled out through the hole as he kept swinging it. Jay punctuated his fit by slamming the palm of his hand against the keypad, then yanking the receiver off of the box by its curly black wire. He stood there, on the sidewalk, huffing and puffing, until he noticed someone else watching him.

?Fuck off, buddy,? Jay growled. ?Forget you saw this.? Stunned, or perhaps terrified, the man who had spotted Jay just stood on the sidewalk, half a block away, staring. Jay raised his voice to a shout. ?LEAVE!? That, apparently, was enough to send the man running off, almost tripping over his feet before scurrying around the corner and out of sight. Once he was gone, Jay leaned against the metal frame that contained the payphone?s remains and sighed.

***

Minutes Earlier?

??you?re firing me? Why?? Jay whispered the questions into the phone, receiver pressed hard against his ear. The voice on the other end, although warped and distorted by static and feedback from the payphone?s proximity to the WestEnd, was still recognizably Ravalynn?s.

?Do I really need to say it, Jay? You don?t already know??

?Please, just?please. I need this. I need this job. I thought I was doing well. I thought-?

?You keep showing up to work bruised and battered and unable to meet face-to-face with customers, and then you keep showing up with injuries that keep you from working,? Ravalynn said, her voice getting faster and faster as she kept speaking. ?The broken thumb was one thing, but then the shoulder? If you cannot keep yourself in working shape, if you?re - don?t the duels have wards??

?Only Swords and Magic, Ravalynn,? Jay said. ?Not Fists.?

?But Friday is Swords, right??

?Not anymore. They have all duels on Friday now. Fists included. Please, give me a chance.?

?I-I can?t,? Ravalynn stuttered, hesitating.

?Why? Why can?t you??

?Zan?he doesn?t trust you. Not around Grace.?

?I?m not gonna hurt her,? Jay said softly. ?I swear.?

?That?s not good enough for him. Or for me. She?s our daughter, and if anything happened to her, well??

?I swear!? Jay practically shouted into the phone, and he almost swore he could hear her wincing on the other end of the line.

?I?m sorry, Jay, but we just can?t risk it.?

?No. No, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!?

Something died inside, but I don't mind
It hurts from time to time, but I?m doing fine
There's someone on my mind now all the time
I hope this feeling dies 'cause she's leaving me behind
(Male Bonding, Year?s Not Long)

January 28, 2012 R.S.C.

Jay?s wounded right hand ached inside the coat pocket, but he kept it shoved tight against the rough fabric. The pain was punishment, for himself and for the wolf.

***

"Sorry to bother you. I'll try to be scarcer." It was a cop-out, and she almost called him on it. Almost. He wasn?t sure if it would have been worse if she had or if she hadn?t. The easiest thing for Jay to do would be to just disappear for another six months or so again, but?he couldn?t. He just couldn?t.

***

Jay could feel the scab forming, the blood congealing against the cloth inside the pocket, and he knew he was going to start bleeding again once he ripped his hand free of the pocket. He shrugged his shoulders at the thought of it. It was more pain and punishment that he deserved.

***

"I'm sorry. For them." Jay had an inkling how much it might annoy Candy, hearing the likes of Apple and Teagan give her grief about dating, about boyfriends, about her personal life, period. At least Candy tried to let them know how it felt to have those things dragged out and mocked. He was the ex, the dreaded ex, and he dare not say anything. All he could do was put on a shit-eating grin, say something clever every once in a while, and sit back as someone he cared for ? still cared for, possibly ? got ripped to shreds by people who didn?t know a damn thing about her.

***

Jay could still taste the blood on his tongue. Rich, sweet, with hints of copper and iron. The Wolf wanted more, screaming so loud inside Jay?s head he could feel a migraine coming on. Jay didn?t give in, even as his vision began to swim and blur with the impending headache.

***

"Don't need to be sorry for them. They'll be sorry for it themselves in enough time." Candy had said that, and he?d wanted to say more, do more, but he couldn?t. All he could do was run away again. "You can be scarce or not. Doesn't matter to me.? She had said that too, and the words cut through him like a knife through flesh. She didn?t even care that he was leaving. In fact, she was more annoyed than anything. Call him on the phone! Why was he even bothering? He had waited until she was out of sight, and then cut loose with his anger and frustration. He punched the wall, and kept punching it, until he felt the skin on his knuckles break and the blood start to ooze out from the wounds. Then, he held his damaged hand up to the moonlight, staring at the rivulets dripping down from fingers to wrist. The Wolf bayed in his brain, and Jay responded, bringing the hand to his mouth. He knew it was unsanitary, that it was just plain weird, but the Wolf wouldn't let him go, wouldn?t shut up. Jay lapped at the blood, and then shoved the still-bleeding hand into a coat pocket.?

***

The migraine didn?t even have the decency to wait until he got home before it kicked in, leaving him wincing at the street lights, then leaning against the side of a building in a filthy alley. Before he could stop himself, he vomited the contents of his stomach: bits of breakfast, lunch, dinner, blood, and bile. He struggled to a crouching position as he continued to puke, then sat down, collapsing back first against the brick wall behind him. The dry-heaves continued as his head throbbed, and he tried to block out all his senses. He shut his eyes to block the smearing lights, pinched his nose to hide the otherwise overwhelming smell of vomit, but he could only cover one ear. A couple of blocks away, he could hear the drunken laughter and loud music of a local bar. They sounded so happy. How could they be so happy? Slowly, chancing the migraine?s nasty side effects, he opened his eyes and took another good, long look at his hands. The black and red scrapes and bruises almost seemed to be bleeding again.

?((Dialogue in this section written by Candy's player, and used with permission))

Tyler Durden: This is your pain. This is your burning hand. It's right here. Look at it.
Narrator: I'm going to my cave. I'm going to my cave and I'm going to find my power animal.
Tyler Durden: No! Don't deal with this the way those dead people do. Deal with it the way a living person does.
(Fight Club)

?What?? Rage and confusion took Jay?s words, leaving him with one syllable. The wolf began to pace slowly in the center of the chamber, up and down the boulders resting nearby, into and out of the light.

?It?s a joke, Jay. You know, ?what, you were expecting the Easter Bunny or something???

?No!? Jay shouted out, fully focused on his anger. ?You shouldn?t be here!?

?Oh, you know me?? The wolf turned his snout sideways, imitating a person tilting his head to the side.

?No. No, no, no. I can drive you back. I can drive you back so I can?t hear you.? Jay found a dry spot near the entrance to the chamber, sat in the lotus position, and held his hands out to the side, preparing to meditate. He heard a growl, the padding of running paws, and then a sharp, stabbing pain in his arm. Jay?s eyes snapped open as he cried out, and then looked down to see the wolf?s teeth digging into his right arm. Jay threw a quick left jab, striking the wolf in the nose, and the animal ran back into the center of the room, alternating yips and snarls at Jay, before settling down. Blood dripped from its nostrils onto the rocks.

?Don?t make me do that again,? the wolf warned. ?And don?t do that again. You assume ? you assume that I am you, that I am a part of you, that I am that part of you.?

?The werewolf.? Jay watched as blood trickled out of the twin puncture wounds in his right bicep, mixing with a nearby puddle and turning the water brackish and brown-red.

?Yes, the werewolf. And I might be. And I might not be. Or I might be both. Do I have to explain what a totem is to you??

?Surprise me.?

?I?ll take that as a yes,? the wolf deadpanned. ?I?m a representation of you. The true you. The one beneath the skin and muscle and bone. The you in your spirit.?

?Yeah, and I bet you find it fucking funny that a werewolf-to-be has a wolf as his totem as well, right?? Jay laughed bitterly.

?It really has nothing to do with that, Jay. I?m here to teach you, Jay, to show you the path. There has always been a wolf inside you, even before the werewolf. He cannot fully poison you or I, unless you let him. You have been strong to fight him, stronger perhaps than anyone who has ever faced such a trial. You need to trust in your strength, Jay, lest you succumb to your weakness. Lest you succumb to the beast.?

?Everyone succumbs, man. That?s just how it is. You can?t escape that fate.?

?Yet here you are,? the wolf said, looking straight into Jay?s eyes. ?Years after the fact, still human, still fighting it. And I know it?s hard, and it only gets harder, but you have to keep fighting? They?re counting on you.?

?Who?? Jay asked, clambering to his feet.

?You?ll know them when you meet them. Now go, Jay, and remember: keep fighting, and have faith in yourself. Sometimes, you?re the only one who doesn?t.?

Jay said no goodbyes, or any other words to the wolf. Instead, he tossed off a wave, then a peace sign, and turned his back on the animal to walk back through the entrance to the chamber, leaving a thin trail of blood behind.

March 25, 2012

If Jay wanted to, he easily could have retraced the path Candy had taken early Sunday morning to his apartment. If he wanted to.

The Wolf certainly wanted him to. He yipped and barked and whined in Jay?s mind as soon as they had woken up. Even in the apartment, the trail was obvious. Here, here was the countertop she had leaned against. See? She had lingered there. He could open the fridge, take out a bottle of Badsider, and she was there too. On the pills she had given him as well, mingled in with the scent of whomever she had stolen them off of. Jay could step outside the apartment and smell where she had waited for him to open the door, follow that faint trail through the apartment hallway, down the steps, and outside, where she cut through the air pollution and budding flowers and the dozen or so other residents who had entered and exited the building the past day or two. But she had waited there, he could tell. The scent was stronger there than it was inside the complex. And he could follow it all the way back to the source, if he wanted to. To the Brawler, or maybe the Dead Cow, or her apartment. Wherever she had come from, and wherever she was going to. He could follow her. If he let the Wolf take over just a little bit more.

Jay stood there, in the doorway to his building, half inside and half outside. He lit a smoke, and felt the trail die in a choking cloud of tobacco smoke. The Wolf now howled in Jay?s head. Jay pressed his free hand against his forehead, feeling the beginnings of another migraine creeping in, but he resisted. Wistfully, he looked at the street his apartment building sat on, and then turned his head to glance down the sidewalk. He knew she had come from that direction, but the smell was gone. After a couple of minutes, he had smoked the cigarette down to a nub, and he tossed the butt towards the road before stepping back inside.

When he got back to the door to his apartment, the faint scent of her was still there. He sniffed at the air for a second, sighed, then unlocked his door and went back inside.

April 6, 2012 R.S.C.
Jay took two sleeping pills, washed them down with a couple of beers (at least), and headed up to the roof of his apartment to see what would happen next. Death? Transformation? Sleep and a massive headache in the morning? Well, there was only one way to find out.

The Wolf was waiting for Jay up on the roof, and Jay knew that wasn?t a good sign. It didn?t take a degree in psychology to know that a voice in your head like the Wolf?s was bad, and seeing that voice take physical form was worse. The Wolf wore all gray: a heather gray ringer t-shirt with black bands around the ends of the sleeves and neck, faded gray jeans, and low-cut Chuck Taylors in gray and white. Jay thought the Wolf looked similar to him, save for the longer nose and lack of facial scars. He seemed to have sharper blue eyes than Jay?s, eyes that cut through when he looked over.

?Weird,? the Wolf said, waving a hand in Jay?s general direction as the man sat beside him. ?You?re poisoning me.?

?Not the first time,? Jay retorted, prompting laughter from the Wolf.

?Yeah, but it is the first time you?ve spoken with me after you?ve done it. Trying to explain why you did it??

?You know why.? Even now, Jay was speaking slower, in an effort to keep his words from slurring. Candy hadn?t been kidding about the strength of those sleeping pills.

?Why you do that? Or why you?re here? Because I don?t know the latter.?

?Why I do it,? Jay said, pressing a hand to his forehead.

?Of course I know that. But I want to know why you?re here. We should have nothing to talk about, but?here you are, giving me some form. You have a powerful imagination, Jay.? The Wolf looked down at his clothing, and clucked his tongue. ?But all gray? A little bit?obvious, don?t you think??

??shut up.? Jay winced as he spoke the words. Here came another migraine.

?Wait,? the Wolf snapped his fingers and grinned broadly. ?I think I figured it out. You want something from me. You hate me, but you need me.?

That got Jay?s attention, and his venom. He looked up at the Wolf and nearly snarled. ?No. Fuck you. I don?t need you. I don?t want you.?

?No, no, no,? the Wolf waved his finger with each word. ?You do need me. I know you, Jay, better than you think. Better than you give me credit for. You?re weak-?

?No?? Jay tried to interrupt, but his voice was too quiet to stop the Wolf.

?Let me finish,? the Wolf said, jumping back in with more of a growl than he had intended. ?Sorry. Where was I? Oh! Yes. You?re weak, Jay, and you want my strength. You want more of my strength. But you don?t want to do what you need to do to get it. You don?t take what you want. I saw your fight against Sylus. You weren?t aggressive enough, you defended too much, and he beat you. I saw your fight against Apple. Same thing. She was fearless, she was unafraid of you, she hit you in the mouth and didn?t look back, and you were too afraid you might split her in half. No! If you worry about that, if you pull back, they will beat you. Candy-?

?Don?t-?

The Wolf ignored Jay?s second interruption and continued. ?She takes what she wants. She fights for it, bites for it, claws and scratches for it. And look what she?s done with that. She has that Opal from the Outback. She?s broken your nose, and she has taken your heart. And you won?t go and take hers. Take it, Jay.?

?No.?

?TAKE IT! God dammit, Jay, for just once in your life won?t you go for something you want? You ignore all the signs, and why??

With unsteady feet, Jay stood up and glared down at the Wolf. ?You.? With that, Jay turned his back and walked crookedly back towards the door back downstairs, despite the howls of protest at his back.

***

Jay wobbled and weaved down the stairs from the roof, heading all the way to the front door to his building and outside. His vision started to swim and blur, and Jay knew it wasn?t just from his migraine. Somehow, he managed to make it up the road to the nearest phone both ? his usual pay phone. He slipped inside, dropped a quarter in the slot, and then kept fishing through his pocket until he had found what he was looking for. The business card he had received from Doc, with a phone number and an address. His fingers felt sausage-fat as he dialed the number and waited for someone to pick up. On the fourth ring, a sleepy sounding Doc picked up.

?Hello.?

?I did something stupid, Doc.?

?What?? Doc now sounded irritated, in addition to being tired.

?I took some sleeping pills and drank alcohol at the same time.?

"You understand how bad of an idea that is, don't you?"

?Well, yeah. I think-? Jay suddenly turned away from the phone, opened the booth up, and puked outside, moaning quietly when he was done. He could hear Doc trying to talk to him, even though his ear wasn?t against the receiver.

?Dude, Dude, are you there? Are you still awake?? Doc?s voice was a mix of concern and disappointment.

??yeah. Migraine, too. I need?I need help.?

??dammit,? Doc muttered, followed by more choice profanities. ?Can you hold on for 10 minutes??

?Yeah. Doc, don?t go yet.?

?What?? At this point, Doc was clearly perturbed.

?You should bring Wolfsbane. Doubt you have it, but a gun with silver bullets if you got it.?

?Why??

?Think about it. See you in 10. And?sorry.?

?Yeah, sorry doesn?t even begin to cut it.? Doc slammed the receiver down, causing Jay to wince. When the phone started to beep at him, he hung up himself, and then slumped down against the inside of the booth. He propped the door open just slightly, then tried to light a cigarette. It took his shaking hands five times to get the end lit.

April 25, 2012 R.S.C.

Tass had given a challenge grant for a barony to Candy, and Candy had asked Jay for his thoughts on who she should challenge during their Monday training session. It irked him, and he had to yank the leash on his inner Wolf to keep himself from snapping at her. It wasn?t her fault Tass had seen something in Candy that made him want to give her a shot at a barony. It wasn?t her fault that Jay hadn?t been active enough in the rings to have earned the right to challenge a baron himself. No, it was better to turn that anger and loathing inward, to push towards his goal. If she beat him to it, well, luck and friendship would only be part of her success. Ultimately, she would have to earn it, the same way he would have to earn it: fighting and winning against a baron.

And then Jay took a look at the Rules of Rank, more out of boredom than any real reason. And he took a closer look at the Show of Activity requirements. His eyes darted over the relevant section once, twice, thrice. Then, he slapped his forehead and groaned. He had misread the rules. If he was reading them correctly now, he had earned a right to challenge.

Jay couldn?t help but smile when he looked over at the challenge corkboard. Candy had taken his suggestion. True, it complicated things for him, but he didn?t mind. The Wolf might want him to be rash and impulsive, but Jay kept a tight chain on his emotions. He would wait and see what happened with her challenge ? if her opponent responded, when the fight might happen. He could wait to see what the final result was, or he could consider another barony. Patience is a virtue, he told himself. This time, he believed it.

Dwight: My warrior woman. My Valkyrie. You'll always be mine, always and never. Never. The Fire, baby. It'll burn us both. It'll kill us both. There's no place in this world for our kind of fire. Always and never. If I have to die for you tonight, I will.
(?Sin City?)

May 4, 2012 R.S.C.
The Brawler
Pre-Fight

Jay sat on the bench in the main locker room for the Brawler, smoking a cigarette and stewing. Candy was somewhere else in the room, but he didn?t care at the moment. Somewhere else in the building, four demi-humans ? a vampire, a half-orc, some sort of demon, and a were-panther ? were waiting to tear them new assholes. But not if Jay had his way. Jay had the Wolf, and the Wolf wouldn?t let him forget it.

Still, Jay was distracted, in a way the Wolf couldn?t fully fight through. When Candy had arrived at the Brawler, and Jay had greeted her, she?d let him know that Doc had dropped in on her at the Dead Cow, and let her know that Jay had given him the idea. Jay could tell by her tone of voice and sour expression she wasn?t entirely happy with the development, and Jay had just gritted his teeth and said nothing else about it.

There was nothing to be done about it now. In a few minutes, they would march out into the arena, side-by-side, to face off against a quartet of heavy-hitting Brawler demi-humans. Jay tossed the cigarette aside, and then folded his feet beneath his knees on the wooden seat. Pressing his thumbs against his middle and ring fingers, he closed his eyes and began a low, humming chant. Clear the mind, and the body would follow suit.

The Fight

Jay and Candy?s opponents were strong, fast, agile, and vicious. The were-panther fought in a form that split the difference between human and animal ? she was the same humanoid size, but with black fur, a tail, and sharp claws on her hands and feet that kept slashing forward at the two of them. The demon had reddish skin that radiated heat across the ring, with a pair of sharped horns on its head nearly half as long as Jay?s arm and a black metal sword that radiated malevolence. The vampire was short and malnourished-looking, freshly turned and desperate for a meal. The Brawler handlers had given her a pair of curved knives, but she didn?t seem all that keen on using them, intent on using her supernatural speed to drain their blood before they had a chance to react. The half-orc was a full half-foot taller than Jay, with grey-green skin and tusks. He had a great club that he smacked into the palm of his hand periodically.

They may have been stronger, faster, more agile, more vicious, but Candy and Jay had an advantage they didn?t. The two of them had trained together, fought together, sweat and bled together, while their opponents had been thrown together more or less at random among what was available of the Brawler?s demi-human roster. At first, though, they didn?t take advantage of their teamwork. The early-going of the battle was an uneasy stalemate, with neither side able to get a real advantage or land a blow. Their opponents were unable to team up to take advantage of their numbers, and Jay and Candy couldn?t get on the same page to press their advantage as better-trained fighters. The crowd, expecting a bloody slobberknocker and getting a messy, discordant symphony of swinging weapons and cautious defense, began murmuring and booing.

Jay had been trying to fend off a sloppy two-pronged attack from the demon and were-panther when he saw the half-orc rumbling towards Candy out of the corner of his eye. He tried to shout a warning, but Candy was preoccupied with fighting off the vampire with bursts of fire. All Candy had time to do was turn in the direction of Jay?s shout, and the charging half-orc, before the bull-rush knocked her back several feet. With a feral roar, Jay drove the meat of his mace into the demon?s belly while swinging the buckler in a sweeping horizontal arc towards the were-panther. The demon doubled up, groaning softly, while the were-panther was driven backwards, hissing, and that was all the opportunity Jay needed. Howling a primal howl, lips curled back in a snarl, Jay leaped towards the half-orc, who was busy admiring his handiwork, and cracked him in the back of the head with the mace. The half-orc was dizzied for a second, giving Jay the opportunity to shield-bash the half-orc and knock him out cold. Jay ran over to Candy to lend her a hand to stand up, but the vampire had other thoughts. She flung the dagger in their direction, and Jay swore he could hear the blade turning end-over-end. He lifted his shield to try and block the knife, but he mis-timed raising his arm and the dagger buried itself in his right forearm.

It didn?t matter. He left the dagger there, ignoring the rising pain and the blood dripping down his hand to his fingers. He?d learned his lesson long ago, and had lashed the buckler to his hand. The only way he was losing that shield was if someone sliced his hand off at the wrist. He watched his three remaining foes shuffle in a wary half-circle in the ring, while Jay held out his shield in defense, snarling at them. He would buy Candy time to recover, and then, they would attack. He took a split-second to smile fiercely over his shoulder, once he saw that she had recovered, and turned back to face their opponents. There was no gratitude on her face, only anger and bloodlust, and Jay didn?t care. He knew then that they would win this fight, and that he loved her.

Post-Fight

Their enemies lay before them in crumpled heaps, being tended to by Doc and a half-dozen other medics and healers. Tone himself had set foot in the ring, stepping between Candy and Jay to lift their arms up in victory. They had won, but Jay had paid dearly for the win. In addition to the knife still sticking out of his right arm, there was a stab wound in his left thigh, a slash across the small of his back, a shallower cut across his stomach, and another stab wound on the right side of his abdomen. He couldn?t feel any of them, lost in adrenaline and lust. He wanted to push Tone out of the way, kiss Candy hard on the mouth in front of the sold-out crowd of adoring fans, but he felt his resolve waver in the sea of eyes watching, the presence of their boss, and the quiet murmurs of the doctors on the ground. Once the losers had been tended to ? the were-panther, demon, and half-orc walked off more or less under their own power, while the vampire was strapped onto a stretcher and carried away ? the healers came for Candy and Jay. Doc, of course, went straight for Candy, though she?d taken less damage than Jay. Still, he could see that she was having difficulty breathing, and once the cheers had subsided some, Tone stepped out of the spotlight and let Doc take her back to his office. Jay seemed to make a move to stop them from leaving, but it looked more like an awkward stumble towards the back. A pair of medics rushed forward to support him, and then coaxed him to the ground to examine his injuries. The adrenaline faded, and blood loss left him feeling weak and anxious. As the medical staff started removing and cutting away his clothing to further diagnose his wounds, Jay turned to watch as Doc and Candy headed off. Candy held her head up high and didn?t look back, but Doc did. There was an unreadable expression on his face ? or maybe it was the red that still swam at the corner of Jay?s vision, even after the fight had ended, that made things murky ? and then Doc turned back around, his attention solely on his patient.