Chance Nightshade, daughter of the Melbourne City Alpha, will avenge her brother's murder at any cost. Even if it means working with a charming vampire prince.
Season 1 of Witchfire
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The night air was dry and cool, ruffling my pelt as I bounded through industrial streets, leashed to the shadows that cringed from the sharp scrutiny of streetlights. The plaintive whine of engines became my soundtrack as I travelled deeper into the city, leaving the outskirts behind. Cigarette fumes stole into my nostrils, a haunting reminder of my fiery dominance guttering beneath the City Alpha's smothering will.
It flared bright now, though, revived by the adrenaline that came with the defiance of his orders. I'd always taken pleasure in finding little ways to thwart him, but this betrayal transcended those childish rebellions. For once I wasn't trying to elicit a reaction from the stoic man; I was doing this purely because I thought it was the best recourse for everyone.
My cover shrivelled as I approached the Central Business District, and I grudgingly accepted that I would have to morph soon. While some people were bound to find the prospect of a horse-sized wolf intriguing, the majority would fear me, and a fraction of that majority would lash out. Fear drove humans to inhumane acts; Midna was right in that respect, at least.
I also understood the necessity of preventing a shadow war. Humans could be dangerous when they wanted. They'd rendered entire species extinct before, simply for pretty fur coats; what would they do to my people if they perceived us as a threat? Werewolves were remarkable individuals in small numbers, but humanity was a plague upon the earth. Even the most ferocious beasts could fall to a hornet's nest.
It was all the more reason to follow through with my plan. Surely London's life will compensate for our loss, I thought, determined to coax Father to the same conclusion. We don't need to go to war to avenge Arthur.
Cars came and went more often. I tapped into the transformative energy idling at the core of my being and heat tore through my body, prompting bones to pop in and out of their sockets. Muscles and ligaments reformed. Fur receded into pale, luminous skin and a tangled mane of black hair. Fangs snapped back into my jaw and emerged as blunt teeth.
I was thoroughly human when I turned onto Collins street, blending seamlessly with the pedestrian traffic. With no idea of what alley I was looking for, I followed the sidewalk searched for clues, playing the part of the gawking tourist.
It proved to be a frustrating and fruitless task. The street was too busy, too loud, too... pungent. Ageing trash, unwashed bodies and chemical perfumes competed with the heady aromas of various cuisines. Every second shopfront was a restaurant of some description, and I refused to believe that there was enough business for all of them to thrive.
"What's so great about the city at night?" I muttered, curling my lip at an overflowing trash can. My anger only peaked when I saw the number of hollow-eyed homeless huddling in doorways and under awnings. Instead of extending help, a word of kindness or a meal, the humans simply ignored them, automatically skirting those in need like they were a routine obstacle.
