4am

Cass was glad it wasn’t raining as she set off from WWN’s headquarters. She drew her magenta wool scarf up around her neck, covering her mouth and chin. Although there was hardly a soul out and about at four in the morning, Cass felt particularly cautious since her unusual post in the early hours of Monday morning.

For the past few hours she’d been presenting and preparing her show which aired late Wednesday, early morning Thursday. Her happiest hours were those at work, filled with music and discussion and feeling normal and like she used to. The night crew at the radio station were an odd bunch, but she considered them her family. The atmosphere and the job kept her mind off the thought of how their warm blood might taste. She wished she could stop feeling so hungry all the time.

She crammed her hands into her jacket pockets, and listened to her boots tap across the cobbles as she made her way up the Alley, contemplating whether she should go out the following night. She should ask Tristan. Take him out to say thank you and sorry for the garlic. Buy him a-

There were extra footsteps in the Alley with her. She could smell other people. Most of the day she could smell people, even when they weren’t there. Their scents lingered in public spaces, but this was fresh. She could smell their sweat. Why were there people here at four in the morning, before the sun came up? Were they shopkeepers, or maybe her colleagues.

In the window of a nearby shop, Cass glanced to where her reflection presumably should have been, and saw movement behind her. Her fangs bared in an instant, instinctive. Two figures in the alley were with her, and nothing about them was friendly. Had she the skills to transform, she might have done so in an instant, but Cass was not yet skilled enough and she cursed the fact.

“What do you want?” She demanded, trying to sound more brave than she was, but her voice wobbled. “Leave me alone!” In a start, they both moved towards her, and Cass turned, fleeing as fast as her feet could carry her, blonde hair streaking out behind her. She hoped her magical resistance might keep her from whatever harm they threw at her with their magic, and that round the corner she might stumble upon help in any form.

“…‘just heard the funniest joke in the world!’ his colleague says, ‘Well, go ahead, tell me!’ Judge says, ‘I can’t – I just give someone ten years for it!’”

At four in the morning, Grigory threw the witch beside him an incorrigible grin; as expected, she threw back her head and laughed.  “That’s terrible,” she cackled.

“That Russian humor,” he sagely replied.

Usually at this hour Grigory was already fast asleep—the witch beside him as well. He was a busy wizard, and his work – while rewarding – had been a hard mistress as of late, exacting her toll in terms of injury and lost sleep. Being a teacher and a mentor herself, he could only imagine it went doubly so for Shona, whose very life seemed to leave little room for anything she didn’t prioritize. Between the two of them, they had too little time to themselves. They had no business, really, being up this late.

But up they were. For once Grigory couldn’t sleep, in spite of trying everything short of a sleeping potion, so he went for a walk instead. As for Shona– he didn’t know. She had her own reasons, apparently, for which she would not divulge beyond a shrug and a smile.

(Werewolf stuff, she had said, and he didn’t press any further after that. Company was company.)

Suddenly Shona jerked to a halt—similarly stopping him with a grab of his arm.  “Hold on,” she said, turning her head at a tilt.  “Do you hear that?”

Grigory looked at her in confusion.  “Hear what-”

And then he did.

     Leave me alone!

At this hour, the shout carried clearly, even around the corner to where they were standing; it sounded like a woman. Grigory’s eyes widened. A moment later, dull thunder reached his ears, until they sharpened into something scattered, rhythmic: footsteps.

Grigory turned to look at Shona—only to see a blur of red and denim streak past him.  “Shona-?”

He ran.

It was a woman, he saw—or rather, he was almost certain; she was very fast. The men behind her, however-

He was just in time to catch Shona snag one of their arms and yank. The man fell flat on his rear.

Shona dragged him up by his collar. But there was still one more to account for, and when he turned around, it was with his wand drawn, mug twisted in ugly intent.

Grigory didn’t think. Instead, he hurtled down the street—and slammed into the guy like a battering ram.

THUD.

Cass pulled up several seconds after her two shadows hit the ground. She heaved in air, and took a few unsteady paces in her leather boots beneath her long cream coat. Her magenta scarf had come loose in her dash, and trailed down her shoulder beneath her frizzed blonde hair. Behind her in the alley there were now four figures. For all they were good Samaritans, Cass released that they might not be quite so pleased to discover they had stopped the pursuit of a vampire given the recent incidents. Hastily, she swept the scarf around her mouth and tucked it in before approaching.

“F.. I mean… what the hell. Thank you. I don’t know what - who the f…” Cass babbled, mind going ten to the dozen and still very scared despite the fact she was to all intents a blood-sucking monster who could have taken those two on if she’d had the confidence. She looked from one Samaritan to the other to the figures groaning on the floor.

“They were waiting for me. Thank Merlin you were there, effing fate, oh my days. I thought I was going to die.” She ran both pale hands through her blonde hair, still a little unsteady on her feet.

“Chasing a poor witch like me - oh…”

Yeah, there was no hiding the stake on the cobbles was there.

Cass took a step back and looked side to side at Shona and Grigory, ready to bolt again.

Hauling her quarry up to his feet, Shona used her other to shove his arm up behind his back—with, perhaps, far more force than necessary. Oops.

Grigory straightened. As the crumpled heap before him stirred, moaning, the beast handler clutched  his own shoulder, rolling it. He spat to the side.

For once, friendly features were hard as stone.

But, there was no time to dwell on it; instead, Shona looked to the babbling witch. Eyes wide, hair disheveled, effusive thanks tumbling from her lips, Cass was visibly shaken—and who could blame her? She had almost been attacked by a couple of lowlifes. Hardly anyone would feel safe after something like that. Shona tried to smile, to look as nonthreatening as possible.

(Well. Tried to, anyway—as well as anyone could when they had someone’s arm behind their back.)

“It’s-” not their pleasure, because neither Shona nor Grigory wanted anyone attacked, even if one’s elevated heart rate might say otherwise, but there wasn’t a lot of alternatives offering themselves up, either; no problem at all was a lie, okay was lame, and fine sounded oddly dismissive. But what else was there to say? Hurriedly Shona wracked her brain for something, anything–

“-We’re glad we could help,” she decided. Cass didn’t seem to hear her, though; Shona faltered under the barrage. She glanced at Grigory for help.  “Really-”

All eyes fell to the stake on the ground.

A moment passed.

Shona slammed the man onto the ground and – without a twitch in expression – shoved that bent arm up even higher. Amidst a high-pitched shout, Grigory ventured a step forward, towards Cass. The look on his face was – uncertain.  “It’s okay,” he said clumsily.  “We’re…”

No, not uncertain. Tentative, the way one might approach a skittish animal. Shona’s gaze flickered between them.  “Beast Division,” she finished for him. Her chin jerked in his direction, “Grigory Gonchar, RCMC.”  She looked back at Cass.  “I’m Shona—Shona Donovan. I-”  The look on her face took on an edge of caution. Should she or shouldn’t she?  “…I’m a friend of Tristan Vaillancourt.”

She wasn’t that kind of idiot that assumed everyone of a kind knew everyone else, but when your very legality could easily be changed based on the actions of a few, more often than not people ended up in two groups: those who stuck close to those they trusted, and those who reached out to strangers on their own. Being one of the latter, Shona had made herself known to a number of groups, of all sorts; inevitably her openmindedness had brought her into contact with individuals such as Idara Whitman and Violet Islington.

Like the women, Tristan was fairly well known himself. Shona was banking on it - hoping - that it was enough that this frazzled looking witch - woman - might know him as well.

Had Cass realised in the dark that the pair were beast handlers of some kind, she’d have appreciated their means of approach more as she shuffled her feet, considering options to flee again. The enormous wizard spoke in a foreign accent, but the tone behind was even, calm, but unsure. He was like the BFG, a Muggle book Cass remembered from her childhood. She had a good feeling about him as the seconds ticked by - even if they had met on a dark corner. He had floored a guy with a stake. It did count for a few million brownie points. He could have a few pints, and half a dozen requests on her show.

“Beast Division” the witch explained, and Cass’ shoulders relaxed instantly. She folded in on herself a moment and gasped with relief.
“Oh thank Merlin!” The radio presenter gushed and quickly shut up on realising they were introducing themselves. She nodded fervently to their names, hands splayed before her, scarf unravelling down her shoulders.

“Tristan!” Cass nearly shrieked. “Oh my god, really, Tristan, he’s wonderful - oh you have no idea -.” The relief flooded Cass and all her mannerisms suddenly broke free in an expression of arms and clasped hands, and half bows of thanks. “Thank you, I - Grigory, Shona -.” Fudge she could talk.

There was a protest from the floor. Cass had almost forgotten there were two other people involved in this strange 4am conference.
“You can shut up an’ all.” Cass exclaimed, suddenly feeling ballsy now she had backup. It had escaped her in her fright that she was a monster with big teeth and strength. Her fright was quickly turning to anger. Who were these twats?

“Thank you. They were going to stake me! I can’t believe it. I was on my way home - I live with Tristan, right, but if you hadn’t been round the corner. Oh…” Cass sunk down in a crouch on the cobbles, both hands to her head, realising she might have been a gonner. “What do we do with them? Call an auror? Do you arrest them?” She peered at the one Shona was holding, seeing if she recognised the face pressed into the stones and mud.



End