Mature for violence
Time of day: around 3pm. So the attacks happen around the same time, less scatter of frightened people.
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His stomach growled in irritation. The smell of edible delights was stronger than the bars could contain. Licking his lips, an exaggerated dog-like longing running over his too-sharp teeth. Merlin, the smell was palpable, his nose in the air as if it could feel the fumes. His overgrown paw-hands gripped the bars as his desire started to overtake his brain. Frank always had a hard time focusing when in his were form. A pitiful (not to be trusted) whimper escaped him as his ears fell back. He also felt an itch near his right shoulder, the wavy brown hair not taking to the dampness of the sewers very well.

Right then, he couldn’t remember how he’d ended up in the sewers. Pushing away from the grate, his eyes darted back and forth, finally settling on a restless pace. His tail flicked one way and then the other as his knuckles of his paws pivoted him back the opposite way. Pure instinct was taking over, some form of a survivalist trait the human Frank was unaware he possessed. And then he caught the whiff.

His body tensed as it flooded his sniffer, heightened in his current form. His hair started to stand on end as he froze. It brought back fuzzy ideas, memories attempting to wash up to his current consciousness. For some reason, it both repulsed and excited him. And the smell was moving away. Ears perked up as he started to follow it grate to grate, snarling at rats in his way. He had to have this one. The smell of drowned honeysuckles seeped in, drawing him like a worm on a fishing pole.

And then it stopped. His eyes darted around, searching for a way out. Scurrying around, it took a few tries and a few angry howls before Frank finally put his weight into the manhole cover. Clawing his way out, panting for fresher air (only so much available near the entrance of Knockturn, of course), it took Frank a few moments to orient himself. The sun was obscured behind buildings and clouds. His body twirled around until he caught the faint, almost nauseating aroma that had led him here.

Perhaps it was his luck that not many were gathered where he was—or, rather, it was the public’s luck. Frank trotted over to the door, standing up on his hind legs, in search of his early afternoon snack.

Candice had managed to sneak Declan into the kitchens with her. He wasn't messing with anything so she didn't think it would matter. Besides, they were having a slow day. Pretty typical for a weekday. She was having him taste test a few things, and they were chattering... albeit somewhat awkwardly. Candice was still slightly upset over losing the budding friendship with Dante, and she had come to terms with the fact she'd had somewhat of a crush on him- so she felt bad for still feeling like she had a crush on Declan, too.

It was like... She felt like it was wrong, to have liked more than one person at a time. It wasn't as though she'd been dating either one of them, but it still felt weird. Candice was trying to push her way through it though.

"I've finally got everything in the kitchen taken care of," she said to him as she plopped a plate down in front of him- real food this time, instead of sweets. "All of my things are organized and put away and it's so wonderful. I'm glad you helped me get moved in. Your sister has been hanging out a lot, too. She has some great ideas for her future. I really hope she gets to make some of her dreams a reality. Teagan deserves that."

"Do you know what we should do?" she asked amicably. "We should find Teagan a boyfriend! Do you have any friends at the ministry who would get on well with her?" Candy asked. "I think Teagan could use a few dates to loosen her up a little." Not that Candy was one to talk- but that didn't really matter right now.

Georgianne was in Calaveras in the hopes to meet with Meredith. She'd just finished making a dress she was convinced her most recent friend would just die for- and she wanted to let her have a look at it. Georgianne slipped through the door, dress in the large bag in her hands. When it closed behind her she spoke a few moments with one of Meredith's employees before she heard a strange scratching on the door behind her.

The woman immediately assumed whoever was on the other side must have their hands full. Ever the good Samaritan (in her own sense of the word)- Georgie sat the bag down on the floor and pulled open the door. "I'm sorry I didn't mean t-" her words cut off as she saw the... Well, it sure as hell wasn't a person.

She backed away slowly, voice caught in her throat. The witch knew exactly what it was- but she didn't know what to do. Her brain reeled. It was daytime, werewolves didn't... well they weren't werewolves in the daytime. And she was standing in front of one, and all of the spells she had learned in school and all of the information she should have known on how to defend herself was gone. She bumped into the podium, eyes wide, cornered.

Nathan's apron was damp, and his dark pants were spotted with moisture.  A cigarette hung from his mouth as he orchestrated the dishes through the sinks.  He was like a badly dressed conductor with sideburns and a patchy beard.  He hummed a Three Owl Standard song, the folksy acoustic Purity and Civility[1] as he worked.  The mind was numb, the work was easy.  Another shift at the job keeping him and Daz in booze and poison.

He heard Candice Stevenson's bright voice in the other part of the kitchen and he grinned.  That witch couldn't be dimmed, could she?  Out in the dining room, Calaveras was bustling.

CRASH

Nate started and he dropped his cigarette from his mouth - a plate had strayed from his spell and broken on the floor.  It landed in a puddle and fizzled out with a little curl of smoke.  "Bloody hell...."  His concentration had faulted enough to lose a few more plates, which also fell to the ground to shatter.

CRASH CRASH CRASH

"Shit!"

He waved his wand to put the other plates down and tromped out to the kitchen to find a broomstick.  A few of the sous chefs congratulated him and he waved his hand, like he was Dominik Wiedman taking a triumphant trip to the penalty area.  "Thank you, thank you....!"

1.	Discography

Calaveras wasn't the sort of place Ahmed would go for lunch. It was for the younger set, those who enjoyed Seeing and Being Seen. He was too old for such goings on.

And besides...he'd heard Candice Stevenson was working there, after being sacked from the Ministry. He was sorry she'd been sacked, of course, but he'd just as soon avoid running into her if he could. Ahmed would never have realized what he was feeling was guilt. Although his commanding officer back in Mumbai had Strongly Suggested that he should receive counseling for Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, he had never done so. He had gone so far as to schedule an appointment with Miss Stevenson, but when the time came he got cold feet. Odd , perhaps, that he should feel less intimidated by a dozen Kalashnikov-wielding smugglers than by one mild-mannered therapist; but there it was.

And here he was...outside Calaveras, as all hell broke loose.

Hearing the sounds of a brawl in progress, Colonel Kabir's policeman instincts took over. He totally forgot that he was in London, not on the Line of Control; that officially he was on a Leave of Absence; and that he had no jurisdiction here.

Pulling his wand from its holster, he ran into the restaurant.

But as Ahmed's eyes adjusted to the rather dim lighting of the club, for a moment he was puzzled.  He could see no sign of a brawl; just the normal chaos of a lunch rush. Utensils rattling on plates, the occasional crash in the kitchen. Nothing untoward...

Nevertheless...Ahmed's hackles had been raised, and he was too old a hand not to trust his feelings. He glanced warily around the room, looking into the corners where the shadows were deeper, and...

Oh, my, he thought, mortified. It was not enough to find himself in Candice Stevenson's territory. Now he must also run into Miss Georgianne Sleeper, with whom he'd had a none-too-pleasant encounter, some time back. She had been highly indignant at his attempt to be gentlemanly, when he intervened between her and Kurby Bagnold. Evidently Bagnold's attentions had not been as unwelcome as it had appeared to Ahmed. He sighed, knowing he must apologize. Despite having been happily married for almost twenty years, women remained a mystery to him...

And yet...Georgianne was backed into that corner as if she were hiding, surely not just to avoid him. No...something  else was happening with Ms. Sleeper. Something...Bad. He looked closer,  and saw what he immediately wished he hadn't . Georgianne Sleeper, eyes wide with terror, was being menaced by... a wolf. A very large wolf.

Werewolf! his instincts screamed.

Impossible, his logical mind retorted. True...the moon was close enough to full, but Werewolves Did Not Transform During The Day. Nevertheless...no natural wolf would be that large; nor would it be prowling Diagon Alley in broad daylight, or going into restaurants to threaten young women.

Werewolves were not unknown to Ahmed. He had faced a whole pack of them once, as a young auror trainee, under the tutelage of Vladislaus Dragulia. But at the time he'd been equipped with a silver-bladed  scimitar. Unfortunately, since he'd traveled by aeroplane, he'd been forced to leave that weapon behind.

All he had now was his silver-bladed Gurkha knife.   

His wand would be of little use here. Replacing it in the holster, he pulled the dagger from his boot.

"You!" he shouted in his native language, jumping up and down to attract the beast's attention. "Hairy one! Pick on someone your own size!"

And then, very slowly and warily, he began edging toward his adversary.

Finally he had found her. Licking his lips, his tongue moving from one edge of his snarly grin to the other, Frank could almost taste it. It was attacking his olfactory nerve, making him almost shake in anticipation. Why her scent would be so strong… so alluring… he wasn’t sure. She looked familiar. And now she looked terrified. The smell of fear mingled with whatever smell had pulled him along to her. Growling slightly as she backed away, he dropped down off his hind legs and started to stalk her.

Where else was she going to run, after all? The beast inside his head forced his lips to come up in a snout-grin, enjoying his little play before his meal. If she had been hairy as well, this situation might have turned out differently. Either way, he had to have her. His tail flicked back and forth twice, excitement evident as his eyes danced in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Other smells came to him, but none were quite as strong as this one. Jumping up onto a table, Frank didn’t expect the thing to teeter.

Even in werewolf form, balance was not his friend. A small yelp escaped him before tipping with the table to the right, using it as slight momentum to jump away from it. The crash was somewhat covered by the dim crash noises from the kitchen. He lunged back towards the woman as if to say ‘See?! I can stay on my own two feet!’ A growl escaped him in case she thought anything different. Stepping forward, he nudged a chair out of his way with his snout, keeping his eyes glued on his target.

The crash to the floor (and the reorientation that had come after) had clearly muffled the second body in the room. The unknown language caused him to pause, his eyes narrowing slightly in frustration. Glancing over his shoulder, noticing the second person, it took Frank a few moments later to notice the sharp object in his hand. Quickly he glanced back at the girl, lunging forward and knocking her down, side of his body hitting hers. Scrambling, he put a paw on top of her, facing his new adversary. Was he here to take his delicious meal?

In response to the man’s taunt, Frank’s ears fell back and he snarled, taking in a breath and giving the man a few loud barks, trying to convey ‘Get your own.’ Slinking down slightly, guarding his ‘meat,’ Frank growled and showed his teeth. He wasn’t playing any more.

As the savage encounter breached the quiet lobby and into the dining room and up to the attentions of Calaveras's dimly lit customers, screams and yells multiplied and soon it was one of the only things that could be heard.  Kitchen staff peeked out of the pass, people at the bar leaned in their seats to see.  The entire dining room animated like a flock of birds disturbed at Trafalgar Square. 

Someone, perhaps a person who wasn't thinking straight, forgetting it was bright day and that they'd just ordered a tomato bisque and sandwich for luncheon, shouted, "Werewolf! Run!"

But the werewolf and his knife-wielding assailant occupied the path to the front door.  The tide of customers was confused as they searched for an alternate escape.  Many, many people Apparated away with a cacophony of tell-tale cracks.  Still others fled through the labyrinthine kitchens. 

But one thing was clear, there were going to be causalities. 

For a split second, Nate though that the shouting and noise coming from the restaurant had been caused by his bungled plates.  But no - that wasn't possible.  In a moment, he was in full alert, and made his way through the kitchens, having to push past other workers, and then nearer the dining room, well-dressed witches and wizards.  Customers were flooding the kitchens, looking frightened and single-mindedly trying to leave. 

"Move, move!" he insisted, trying to get towards the dining room, to see what was going on.

He passed Candice and his face told the tale, "What the hell is going on out there?"

The thought occurred to him that his Ravenclaw curiosity might be setting him up for disaster.  Perhaps he should be running away from the problem, rather than towards it.

Find Teagan a boyfriend. Now, Declan was fond of Candice. He was really, really fond of her. And he liked this new... whatever was developing between them. But sometimes she had crazy ideas, and this was one of them. Well, okay, he didn't really mind if his sister got a boyfriend, he guessed. But the part about finding one of his friends from the ministry to set her up with? That part was crazy.

"Um. No." Declan made a face. He couldn't think of a single co-worker he'd be willing to see parading around with his sister on their arm. "Teagan's loose enough. Besides, doesn't she like that um... that professor guy?" It had been kind of all Teagan had talked about for like a week or two. And the guy had sent her a cheesey Christmas present. "I sort of thought something was happening there."

CRASH!

Declan immediately tensed at the sound, and his head turned sharply in the direction the noise came from. It was a result of work-related reflexes - never trust sudden loud noises. Especially in a place like Calaveras, a notable haven for ne'er-do-wells. But it turned out to just be one of the bus boys or something. Declan shrugged and turned back to Candice, resuming chatting with the blonde with his mouth half-full of whatever delicious thing she happened to be cooking.

This peace was short lived, however, as the crashing sounds were replaced with screams - from the dining room. Declan frowned, and drew his wand from his pocket, moving towards the door, and as a result found himself almost knocked to the ground by the wave of people who tumbled into the kitchen. What the hell?

He heard some hysterical cries of 'werewolf!', but that was impossible. It was daylight."Stay here!" He shouted back to Candy, over the crowd, as he tried to push through the frenzy with Nate, in an attempt to see what was happening.

Georgianne was trying to back away- but had no where to go. In a split second the wolf had knocked over a table, launched off of it, and slammed into her. The witch's legs gave way and she toppled to the ground with loud scream. She tried to sit up- but a paw was pressed onto her chest- pinning her down. Georgianne was afraid- she wasn't sure what to do, she wanted to scream but with the wolf on top of her she was afraid that it would make him bite her. She couldn't be a werewolf! Damnit, Georgianne was too beautiful to be a lycanthropic freak!

She turned her head and looked at the ministry man- Ahmed if she remembered correctly- hoping that his silver dagger would be enough to distract the wolf so that she could escape.

Her eyes squeezed shut when the wolf snarled and barked, nearly laying down on top of her- clearly conveying the message that she was his. Someone had to save her! It wasn't fair! Georgianne whimpered- the weight of the beast on her chest was almost too much. Georgianne slowly wriggled her arms free and pressed them against the wolf- using the last of her senses to try and push him from her chest.

Ahmed had been moving steadily closer, but it was hard to make any real progress.  People were thrusting chairs and tables every which way, many so scared that they forgot they could  Apparate. In the mad scramble dishes crashed to the floor…spilling all their contents…and finally in a lunge for its prey the werewolf knocked over a table right in front of him.  As it landed, bearing the victim to the floor, she gave a heart-rending scream.

Turning to Ahmed, the werewolf put a huge paw on the girl's chest, laying claim as a dog would do to his dish if another dog came too near. Clearly this creature saw Ahmed as a rival after its FOOD. Ears flattened, it snarled its defiance and hunkered down, clearly ready to fight for its kill.

Only the poor girl wasn’t dead...yet. She was trying so hard to free herself…it wasn’t fair. She was only a kid…Completely forgotten was that ridiculous scene at the Ministry. Ahmed could not just stand there and watch an innocent person die.

He was a long-legged man. Surely if he took a running leap he could make it over that table in time…

Backing up, he took several steps, bent for his lunge…and slid on a puddle of gravy. He went down, smacking his head smartly on the corner of the table. He sat up, momentarily dazed, and shook his head to clear it.

"I cannot give up now," he told himself. "I am that girl's only chance..." Rising unsteadily to his feet...bleeding from a gash in his forehead...he picked up a heavy oaken chair and heaved it at the wolf with all his might.

He came near to blacking out then, and had to sit down. Right where he was...in the gravy. An ironic thought struck him. Perhaps the smell of blood would attract the wolf to a different meal. Gravy and all...

He reached for his knife, which he'd dropped when he fell. Raising it slightly, he muttered, "Come and get it."

Frank had noticed the way the man with the knife had moved. With his paw on his prey, he didn’t need to keep such a close eye on it: just the thing after it. When Kabir moved as if to charge, Frank widened his hind legs slightly, staying low, waiting for it. If he was playing a game of flinching, he would have lost—but he wasn’t charged. Slightly relieved, slightly annoyed that he had jumped (however slightly), Frank licked his lips and made sure the guy was down.

It looked like it hurt. He wasn’t moving from his sitting position. All good, from Frank’s point of view. That was when he finally noticed the pressure on his chest. Glancing down at his wiggling captive, he growled as if to tell her to be less pesky and bothersome. Shouldn’t she accept her fate? Make it less of a chase for him? Because, really, he felt he did enough of that when he was human. Not that he put anyone in this sort of situation! Normally. When he wasn't a hairy beast.

There were many smells interfering with what had attracted him originally. People had been eating, after all, occupying the confined location and blending their own scents. The perfume was somewhat nauseating.

As if to reaquaint himself with what had dragged him in here, Frank glanced down at the girl. Bending his head over, he sniffed at her torso, getting that smell back in his nostrils again. Suddenly, an invasion of copper assaulted his nose, and Frank crinkled his snout up in more frustration. He wanted it all! Licking his lips, his head darted almost as fast as his eyes, eyeing the location that the smell seemed to be drifting from. His hairy fingers dug into the girl in his attempt to stay focused.

The man was going to continue to taunt him, half lucid and all.

But after awhile, what was the point? His nail scraped against her skin, opening up a trail of closer, more satiable smells. How he could go for a nice, nearly raw steak right then. Overcome with sudden hunger, he snapped. What else was the poor man… werewolf to do? And it was shortly thereafter that poor Georgianne would never get up and walk away. He tore and bit and yanked, growing in his intensity and lust. With the fall of his main deterrent, Frank could focus and enjoy. Her screams didn’t last for long—he was a killer, but he was at least kind in his quickness.

Candice was confused when the people started pouring throught he kitchen. They were yelling, screaming- saying something about werewolves, and she couldn't grasp their meaning. Werewolf? It was broad daylight! Werewolves didn't attack in broad daylight! Things didn't work that way! She tried to get out of the way, barely hearing Nate when he spoke. "Something about werewolves," she yelled back to him, not thinking to pull him back- away from whatever was going on in the other room.

And then Declan was moving, and telling her to stay put. She watched as he tried to push through the crowd with Nate, frowning. She didn't want Declan to get hurt, but what else was she to do? Following didn't seem wise. "You two be careful!" she shouted back.

The screams got worse- one of them sounded like someone in pain. Candy grabbed a large butcher's knife from a drawer and moved down behind the counter, sitting with her back to it, hoping that if anyone tried to come through and hurt her she could fend them off. It didn't even occur to Candy to draw her wand, because the knife was faster- handier. Her wand was somewhere in her chef's pockets, or perhaps on the counter- but it didn't matter.

Georgianne had not expected today to be her last day alive. She was just coming to Calaveras to meet with Meredith, to work on some designs, have some food, maybe flirt with a few good looking men. She had not come to Calaveras to find herself face to face with a werewolf, to have one perch on her chest possessively, and watch- unable to do anything- as the crowds all ran away, a single man standing to try and help.

But he couldn't help- he didn't have the time or the quickness. The first time a claw dug into her she flinched, the scent of her own blood drove the wolf insane. Georgianne screamed the first time he bit into her, but it didn't last long. Sharp claws and fangs, something warm and wet and sticky, and she felt her consciousness drifting away.

Georgianne was only nineteen, barely graduated from Hogwarts. Her future had just started to look up- she was finding employment outside of working at the ministry, people were interested in her designs, for the first time she'd seriously considered pursuing her dreams. What a pity that it led to her gruesome death on the floor of Calaveras, under the paws of a vicious, unnatural creature.

She reached out- the last of the strength she could muster, toward the man with the knife before her eyes fluttered closed and she let out one final, gasping breath.

Ahmed reached out his hand in in return, though she would never see it, or know that he had understood. There was no doubt she was gone; the sudden way her shrieks were cut off made it clear.

Ahmed felt sick at heart, utterly useless. His head was throbbing where he had struck it. He was vaguely aware that blood was runnng down his face. However...he was not yet finished. It would be wrong to let the wolf make lunch of that girl, even if she wasn't there to feel it. And...there were others who were there, frozen in fear or otherwise prevented from escaping. He could not go on just sitting there, grieving. He could not let this creature kill anyone else ; he had taken an oath.

Duty Unto Death...
 
Holding onto the side of the table, he rose unsteadily to his feet. He knew that bleeding as he was, it was more dangerous than ever for him to approach the werewolf. His blood was fresh and warm; Georgianne Sleeper's would already be cooling. Perhaps his scent would be enough to tear the creature away from the...corpse. Shuddering he tried not to think of that bright, lively presence, forever gone. Or that he might soon be joining her.

Raising his dagger once again,  he began his slow, inexorable approach.