I've returned!!! Thank you for your continued love and support, I apologize for my absence and if you wish to know more about my long absence please refer to my homepage or just continue on to the story. I'd like to remind readers with questions about timing that this story takes place directly after Underworld with no ties to Underworld Evolution, possibly Underworld Rise of the Lycans I hadn't decided. Also:

I suppose I should answer a few questions I had from one of my reviewers. One comment being 'Selene seemed to be a little too knowledgeable about hybrids and their nature. As far as anyone knows, Michael's the only one who's ever lived more than an hour.' While that is definitely true Selene is a smart woman and can put two and two together, studying your enemy is something all successful armies do, so Selene has studied lycans to hunt them more efficiently as well as knows enough about her own vampirism to find commonalities in the way both react to various things. She speaks of both species having bloodlust, a need to kill and hunt. After all if your body is craving blood and flesh, a mind has to adapt to becoming much more predatory in order to get it, it's what we call a survival instinct. I wanted too to address initial bites from both species (it's probably not sunshine and roses it is a virus some sickness is to be counted on). I'm sure such a drastic change to the body could be compared to having acid given to you in an IV.

Selene's exact words are as follows concerning hybrids said to Michael: "Perhaps it was a stroke of luck, a fluke. Your body is still struggling to find the proper balance of vampire and lycan. Maybe it all ready has, I want to be sure. Being an immortal is an erratic process after the initial bite."

Selene makes no statement really on hybrids, but immortals because both vampire and lycan qualify and what is Michael if not vampire and lycan?

There was also I believe a question concerning UV and silver nitrate rounds found by Selene, I guess it may be easy to conclude Selene had found them in the safe house, however that is simply not the case, nor had I stated she had, she'd simply given them to Michael in the safehouse. I had in mind Selene finding the UV rounds earlier in the night when she valiantly tried rescuing Michael from the interrogation room. In her holding Singe hostage she'd have taken his weapons and what else were the lycans using besides UV rounds for their dearest cousins? I will try in the future to be more clear about these things…

THE HUNTING PARTY

When the sky was barely began to lighten signaling upcoming morning Selene found herself alone with nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees to keep her company.

Michael was snoring softly no more than a few paces across the room in the large poster bed and for that she was glad, best the hybrid sleep now.

Their peace and safety was short-lived, she was sure of it.

With her wounds since healed she was nearly in perfect form to fight again if only she could find serenity in sleep. But Selene knew sleep was to be denied to her, not with her mind stirring with questions and concern for their next step.

They could not stay here long it would be perhaps another day or two before Markus would return, she was sure of it. If not to lay claim to Morgan then certainly to recheck his sources. Viktor may have been known for strict and harsh ruling and Amelia for her cunning but Markus was effortlessly efficient and seemed to have eyes everywhere. Employing far less brute force in matters of both war and politics Markus was a silent predator, the kind to be taken very seriously.

She quietly padded from the room into the halls before finding descending the velvet-lined stairs to the alleyway entrance she and Michael had entered.

Surprisingly she met no resistance, a few vampires meandering in the halls with their humans barely noticed her leaving the safety of the brothel.

She'd only little more than half an hour before day so she hurried, scanning for tell-tale depressions in the cement that indicated lycans in their natural form that had been visiting. Lycan claws being as powerful as they were easily cut through steel, bone and concrete, they almost always left evidence in their footfalls.

The trail was simple enough to follow, rounding back alleys and side streets.

Then she heard them.

A whine of lycanthrope, desperate for aid. A long silver blade protruded from the chest of the beast in the gutter. The frightened lycan snapped its jaws spotting Selene edging closer.

It didn't matter the ex-Death Dealer could see clearly the condition of the pitiful creature. The site of the knife wound was swollen and blackened, smoking.

Silver left in the heart of the lycan. The allergen prevented blood clotting and swelled the heart and circulatory tissues. Once embedded in the heart, soon the lycan would either succumb to blood loss, suffocate from the swelling or the blistering burn of the alloy as it ate through surrounding tissues.

A most cruel and painful death she dealt herself a handful of times.

She was thankful Michael had not accompanied her, he could not help here and he'd insist on trying with his only reward being a possible bite.

Slender, shorter and more fine-boned than most lycans she'd encountered and there was a simple explanation.

This was a young female no more than 18 years old the mark of a lycan barely healed over.

The female was quieting and finally still.

Once the female had passed Selene retrieved the silver blade surprising herself in how much care she'd taken to remove it to avoid ripping through more flesh than necessary.

Her feelings of sickness she was sure she could attribute to hunger, but she'd never known hunger to feel so heavy and foreign…

* * *

Sweeping his eyes round their room Michael found Selene was nowhere to be found and worse yet her scent was lost amongst a great many others, human, vampire and blood. Great amounts of coppery sweet-smelling blood flooded his nose distracting him from her.

Later, he told his stomach that was roaring with hunger, Selene first.

A cold clang and slight pressure round his right ankle caught him so off guard he nearly lost his balance and slammed to the well polished marble of the floor.

Chained again.

"Pity…"

Michael rounded to the voice immediately.

He found the pretty redhead seductress standing merely three feet from him. One hand rested on her cocked hips the other hanging limply at her side as though she couldn't be bothered with being on alert with he who was all too lycan. She no longer carried an expression of mischief dimmed by sharp fatigue like the previous night, but perfect calm and there was even a glimmer of playfulness in her eyes.

Michael however was no fool and therefore capable of looking much closer to see simmering just below the surface a dangerous predator ready to burst forth in a second's notice.

"Selene's mark passed no amount of grace onto you, hybrid."

Her statement was almost mocking if not for the offhanded way it was uttered.

"Selene," he remembered, "where is she?"

A long tendril of smoke curled from her scarlet lips, though Michael couldn't recall seeing her light a cigarette it rested casually between her pale hands. "She will return shortly."

She still hadn't taken her eyes off of him and Michael couldn't decide if that detail was worth concerning himself over, the human in him was squirming under the vampire's even gaze but the lycan seemed only mildly curious and not even mildly threatened.

But the most concerning to him was the way his hunger seemed to shift into something else entirely, a pleasant tingle that beckoned him to the redhead.

So this is what schizophrenia is like, Michael mused.

Smoothing over the rumpled sheets Morgan dropped on the high four poster bed crossing her legs in front of her with the grace of liquid mercury. Her long black duster similar to Selene's peeking open to reveal a small pistol at her hip.

He thought better to focus on something else besides the enigmatic Death Dealer and tugged at his shackled ankle, annoyed at being treated like a disobedient dog not trusted to sit patiently for master to return.

When the ex Death Dealer stood suddenly striding towards him he couldn't help his immediate human reaction to back away and the heavy chain once taut with strain had snapped with little effort. The hybrid stared, the shackle snapped as though it was only made of flimsy string when once a chain of even less severity had held him contained in a safe house nights before when a gun looked his only option for freeing himself.

She made no move away from him nor could Michael manage anything but to stare in awe at the broken heavily gauged shackle.

Morgan merely raised a finely arched brow at the hybrid. "Of course I've never been one to overlook the value of brute strength."

He eyed her, unsure of the coy playfulness underlying her comment, this suspicion still present in his question: "what time is it?"

Morgan took note of his suspicion but did nothing to ease his discomfort, if anything she eyed him more openly, unapologetic in her appraisal. He was a handsome thing that would wear immortality well. For now though his hybrid was cleverly hidden and only her nose was capable of telling the truth of his blood.

His skin had yet to take on the ice white pallor of a vampire nor the slightly more pallid grey look of the average lycan in human form. Lycan skin in human form was often much less starkly pale, given the ability to walk during the day, however the darkness seemed to cling to them, and slight grey shadows often lined the creatures, hollows of the cheeks and just beneath the eyes. Though only noted by the sharper vision of other immortals, their skin remained slightly roughened like new leather from the constant need to accommodate shifting bones and organs at will.

Michael's skin was glowing with health, tan, no a very pale golden all over indicated he'd once been a human who sought sunlight, but it was a fading imprint, suggesting that the night was much more habitual for him and had been for perhaps little over a year.

American? she wondered.

No more than 28 years old she'd guess. Pale green eyes that gave a yellow brown glint fit his face that was all clean, straight-lined cheekbones and jaw.

Where Markus was all bold angular lines, Michael's own bone structure was somehow less severe. Markus shared the same natural shade of red as she, common in those of an Old World Hungarian bloodline, but Michael had soft dirty blonde hair and softer expression than Markus's own, still not uncommon in the Hungarian bloodline.

She didn't ponder too much on why she sought to find similarities in two immortals who's shared bloodline, thanks to centuries of change, knew nearly nothing of any kind of familial ties. A drop of ink in a running stream, more absent than present.

"Nearly 3 in the afternoon. I suppose it's safe to say you hybrids are more the nocturnal sort."

Morgan turned her attention to the table that sat in the farthest corner of the room, Michael was surprised to see a tray there, a tall chalice filled to the brim with what Michael could guess was blood and something else plated and covered with a grey lid he couldn't begin to guess at.

He hoped and prayed it contained a steak, or better yet a cheeseburger, loaded with pickles and cheese.

Wishful thinking, a fantasy, that had no room in the head of a hybrid, appealing to neither lycan nor vampire in him, only the human and he wondered when that part of him would quiet all together.

Morgan forced the tray into the hybrid's hands. "You should eat, times like these…well one cannot afford to be without their full strength nor all wits about them."

His brow creased and a slight frown followed as he eyed the tray.

"Come now, I didn't lace it with silver nitrate," she remarked.

Michael would have laughed if the situation were not so completely…humorless. Here he was with an utterly stunning vampiress in her lavish brothel slash fortress like home being catered to as though he were a guest at a 5 star hotel ordering room service. And there was Morgan her expression one of insult at his hesitation to enjoy the chef's best dish.

He quickly swallowed down the laughter that threatened to make itself known to the redhead looking so expectantly at him. The giddiness was a sure sign of lack of regular sleep, stress and shock of recent events, still he was sure she'd think him mad he dare so much as snicker. After all once he started he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself.

Seriousness once more wasn't hard when he focused again on the glass in front of him. "Sorry, it just it's--"

The scent was heavenly. Perfect, so sharp and sweet-smelling, his insides clamoring for it.

He gave pause frowning.

"It's human isn't it?" he concluded.

Morgan nodded once.

"We bled her last night. A regular here took notice when you arrived last night insisted her gift find it's way to you when you hungered."

Morgan was smiling now, a beautifully wicked grin of fanged teeth. Something in the way the sentence rolled off her tongue seemed absolutely sinful in nature and she seemed to revel in it.

Thumbing the edge of the glass he sniffed.

Female, yes. The blood ripe with youth. He'd guess the patron no older than 20.

"I'm not hungry," he decided.

Rolling her eyes in exasperation at the hybrid she returned the tray to its place on the table side. "Pity, it is some of our finest. At least have the lamb then, I don't need a hungry lycan gorging himself on the flesh of my clients and colleagues when hunger drives the ravenous thing out of you."

She was staring at him again waiting for his assent, he gave a nod and the harshness in her eyes disappeared.

In such close proximity Michael became aware of two things. One being succubus's and regular vampires differed a bit physically and the proof was in Morgan's delicate-looking hand, lined with wicked things that a far away look would mistake for a woman's well manicured nails. No, these were at least a good inch long, slightly curved (for ripping into flesh, he'd guess) and very darkly pigmented to a translucent grey, perhaps from the many tough layers of keratin that made them effective weapons. She had the most startling green eyes, the dark pupils of them slitted like a felines. The third being the strangest, Morgan was the first vampire Michael had come across who didn't seem at all unnerved by his presence, not fearful nor disgusted by his lycan blood.

If anything, curiosity was the only emotion he was sure he could discern from the way she looked at him.

Placing a hand to her slender hip, she cocked her head, the movement of her red tresses rippling in the candlelight, a red flame that complimented her ivory-colored skin.

She had the rejected goblet of blood resting between her fingers, swirling it's contents languidly. "Odd. You are very young to survive an immortal's kiss."

The hybrid shrugged wondering if he should find insult in her assessment.

"I've seen younger vampires, I'm betting you've seen younger lycans too."

Morgan gave a dismissive wave of her hand at his comment and Michael would guess it was a gesture she practiced often, if her look of utter indifference was any indication.

"Pureborns, for the most part. We find humans near fragile as glass, turning them is often a failure and a terrible waste. Human males under 40 are our largest casualties."

"Building an army must be difficult."

The seductress made an odd noise, a guttural purr, white fangs bared and it took a moment for Michael to realize she had laughed aloud at his remark.

"I suppose I should not be surprised, dear Selene may be beautiful but her focus on warfare is clearly the only thing she seems to have taken an interest in schooling you in."

"We outside of the Old World and New World coven have little desire for bloodshed, lycan or otherwise. It's a good life for an immortal, I had hoped Selene would join me one day when she tired of war. Sadly that end does not seem to be in sight with Markus in such a rage." She sipped lightly before continuing, "He's always been passionate but now he's nothing but passion and terrible rage, a creature I no longer know. I do sincerely hope you and Selene have a good plan for yourselves."

"We do now."

Both Michael and Morgan whirled to find Selene standing there at the doorway, her expression grim, she turned her attention to Morgan. A gleam of silver whistled through the air and Morgan snapped up the lethal blade in a fisted hand.

A dagger that looked unlike any Michael had ever seen even Selene carrying.

"It's blood," Selene announced.

Their emerald-eyed host held the blade carefully under her nose. "Lycan."

"Just a mile down the road last night buried in a lycan."

The engravings of the gold hilt were fading but easy to make out. "16th century Sumatran. I only know one who uses this blade."

"Treyson must be leading the Death Dealers now which means we are outnumbered or at least outgunned, for now." Selene looked off thoughtfully. "Those lycans, the ones you mentioned last night, the ones that dragged off two humans?"

Morgan's cool expression did not waver however her eyes narrowed slightly in what might have been disapproval.

"Lycans rarely hunt further than 10 miles from their den. An easy track for two Death Dealers and a hybrid."

"Track?" Michael asked before Morgan could.

Michael's companion nodded. "I want to speak with them."

For a long moment Selene was faced with both her fellow immortals incredulous stares. This time it was Morgan who questioned Selene. "Why?"

"I thought it odd when you told us of these local lycans last night, odd to hear how easily you've managed peace with them that is. You've lived here for centuries and never once suffered an attack from them, I couldn't understand it until I realized something. They're newly turned."

The succubus for the first time that Selene could remember looked perplexed and it was not a look that suited the perfected poised immortal.

"Four males a single female, no guns, nor weapons but lycan form, coming for your humans how many times in the past few weeks?"

"At least six times I recall," Morgan answered still not following.

"Never targeting any of your men was no accident, they are selecting breeding partners and food. The lycan female I took the blade from was still freshly marked. Since when have lycans prayed on humans or made breeding partners right from under a vampire in the open?"

Catching on Morgan added, "Only the very foolish or very young."

"As you've said before Markus is on the hunt for us as well as resumed his hunt for lycans and much more aggressively if he's left Treyson in charge. They're young and seemingly inexperienced with our war we may be able to use that to our advantage."

"You seem to forget they drag off humans, time and time again but it is always the same pack members snooping around. They have to be using the humans for food. They could be primals, unable to take human form. What then do you hope to accomplish with lycans that lack moral objectivity?" She looked pointedly at Selene but did not give pause. "

Selene was quick to interject. "Primals? Come now Morgan, you're suggesting these creatures who intrude your grounds and have yet to attack your men are primals?"

"Alright primals or not it's likely they will not hesitate to reverting to a more bestial nature when intruders come strolling in their den." She smoothed the pockets of her duster with a lazy exhale. She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it when noticing Selene's determination was still reading solid as a rock. She tried a much gentler tone. "I agreed to offer you assistance in your survival Selene, survival. You know I too have never been one for conventional methods but we are only two Selene."

"Three," corrected Selene.

Shooting Michael a glance Morgan confirmed, "three yes. But I will not ask my own guards to follow us into the very mouth of hell, waving a white flag. Things have not changed, with present revelations if anything we are plunged into even more chaos and further darkness."

"I know Morgan, but perhaps if we act now with these youths there is hope of peace, of no more darkness. Light."

"Indeed Selene, but what is light to those of us that live in darkness but certain death?"

Selene did not know quite what to make of her old comrade-in-arms's new attitude. She was wildfire, feral and unstoppable in everything Selene had ever witnessed her do and did not apologize for her actions, ever. Now she barely flickered, a campfire in the snow under Selene's request.

It wasn't fear that painted her face but weariness that Selene wasn't sure she understood but made note to investigate further when time was not so short.

And here she thought vampires never changed…

"Look, what have we to lose really? Even at worse perhaps there is something to learn from them about Markus or the covens attack on them last night. We share a common enemy now, if Markus is as mad as you say he will not stop his hunt at Michael and I, but the lycans too and you Morgan. I fear he will return here, proof or not of harboring us he will send the Death Dealers here once more, with none of their usual restraints."

Morgan did not meet her eyes, but it was clear Selene had made her point.

"How soon do we leave?"

It was well into the night when the three found themselves on the move, on foot. It was much too difficult to track lycan by car relying on scent alone Selene had explained. Michael had discovered himself to be highly effective in tracking and neither expressed surprise at this ability though Selene was secretly proud of his wordless lead. However when it started to rain in earnest and wet leather and vinyl became pungent Michael hadn't wavered, lighting cutting the sky, rain and wind near blinding them and the hybrid's steps were still sure.

They had carried on in silence only a few paces apart, it was safest that way so when Selene's female comrade sidled up particularly close to her Selene's gun was halfway out of it's holster before she realized it.

"Oh Selene…" Morgan tsked, "we are so very tense aren't we?"

Selene glared sharply at her before increasing her pace. They'd been walking through the side streets of town for an hour at least and she was already beginning to feel as though maybe it was this hunt was not such a good idea.

Too easy, it had all seemed too easy, what with Death Dealers probably still in the area, possibly lycans prowling around for food and Markus and here they were in plain sight tracking lycan and there was not so much as a stray cat out.

"I'd advise you never to do that again, I nearly blew your head off," Selene admonished.

"My apologizes," Morgan replied smoothly. She shook her head hoping to clear away the wet tangles clinging to her cheekbones. She motioned with a nod forward. "This rain, it will not be long before the hybrid losses the lycan pack's scent."

Blinking away rain from her eyes she noticed Michael had veered off the side street in an alley his focus still unbroken even as thunder rumbled and rain fell harder.

"No," Selene decided, "rain or flood he will find them."

"You've certainly a lot of faith in the hybrid. Despite his inexperience."

It was bait Selene advised herself not to take but could not seem to help. "Inexperienced or not he's more than proven himself courageous and loyal."

Morgan was quiet for a moment catching a sound echoing in the brick alleyway, Selene was quick to follow her example her right hand thumbing the cool comfort of her pistol.

Michael had paused mid stride as well, his eyes dark and fixed at the rain gutter. A harsh growl sounding from the hybrid.

A podgy sewer rat above them quickly made itself scarce.

Both vampires had come closer to flank him on either side. Suddenly remembering Selene's warning concerning subtlety and his hybrid nature he caught her eyes.

"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly.

"Quite alright," Morgan answered with an amused grin even as Selene fixed her with a look of disapproval.

Leave it to Morgan to find amusement in the most serious of situations…

They carried on but not much further finding the alleyway an open one leading them to an abandoned side building.

A dark hole where a door had definitely once been if crumbling brick round crooked hinges was any indication.

"We're here."

Selene slipped past him leading the way inside stealthy dodging chunks of brick and concrete. An odd and utterly unpleasant smell permeated through the air like rotting flesh, the source of it hidden somewhere amongst the blankets of dust and broken glass. Bare but for the pieces of crumbling foundation on the floor.

Michael had remained no further than ten feet behind her and Morgan had gone ahead to further investigate the building.

A silver hook swinging lightly in the drafty building providing some clue as to the location. More lined the ceiling, disappearing entirely next to a broken chalkboard.

Today's special. FARM RAISED VEAL

It confirmed what they had already guessed, these lycans living here were young ones, they had to be.

Only a young or very naïve lycan would choose to take refuge in an old butcher's shop it was comparable to a vampire taking shelter at a blood bank.

Why not just paint a target on your belly?

Time could not be spent on musing lycan behavior, the sound of a ringing pipe sounded close and Selene was already moving again, this time towards the sound only slowing slightly for Morgan to take her position of choice.

Morgan did not miss the unspoken request, they'd been here before. The centuries spent working side by side before Morgan's exile did nothing to nurture traditional ideas of closeness but immensely for martial law and survival, that was certain. They had lived, breathed and relished a hunt side by side many years ago together. Happiness in knowing nothing else, ignorance being bliss indeed.

They were oddities, even amongst vampires. China dolls with fanged teeth, swords always sharpened and guns always loaded.

Females were plentiful in the coven true, most preferred however the role of demure kittens that clung to the arms of aristocrats and bureaucrats of the coven. Those females that were Death Dealers were hand selected by the Elders for their efficiency in killing quickly and fearlessly.

It was Viktor's own opinion of the few female Death Dealers at his disposal that they were not only better killers than seasonal males but did so with both grace and blind devotion to the cause that only sunrise could halt till the next nightfall.

Selene wondered now how much of that remark was for her.

They had rounded the corner, with the two Death Dealers never breaking stride, the old building still again aside for the light crunch of boots over brick and broken glass.

Silent as a grave and just as still.

The whole hall littered with more brick, broken glass and plaster, cavernous and revealing a maze of doors in every direction. The largest pathway straight ahead being a makeshift one, pitch-black and wide as the mouth of hell in Michael's option.

There was an odd glow to Morgan's dark green eyes as they swiveled round their dank surroundings that made Selene's own blue scrutiny look commonplace.

It was too quiet for anyone's liking moreover just strange to be meet with no resistance halfway into a lycan den. Not a sound not a movement.

"It would seem they are shy," Morgan remarked lightly.

"Best we make ourselves known then before we are met under false assumptions, we-

A shrill cry broke Selene's briefing, blaring through the decrepit structure with an urgency of a den under attack.

And prepared to defend itself against interlopers.

The clamoring of clawed feet over stone and fallen glass seemed to multiple before it was deafening and traces of moonlight fell upon many snouts rigid with bared canines, and they were peering from every visible entry.

Onyx eyes fixed on the invaders, waiting…

For a sound.

For a movement.

And thankfully…for a command.

Such a formation was plenty indication to Selene the alpha has not made a clear command to attack, they seemed almost curious. That was no assurance they were out of danger only that they needed to make there intentions clear if they had any hope of no bloodshed.

"There," Morgan whispered with a brief nod towards the center hollow. "It seems we've found our young alpha male."

It was obvious, the largest male lycanthrope was moving, four long grey limbs all lowered to the floor and stalking towards them. His lean grey hide was riddled with scars, new, old and heeling tissue that decorated the large male like battle trophies. The worst seemed to be a cut that ran from eye to jawbone with the coarse guard hairs unwilling to grow there. It was likely made by a blade of silver as the right eye had been affected, completely gray and opaque staring blankly out, seeing nothing.

A solid dozen. These were not primals, for they lacked the thicker lycan pelt and brown-grey color. They came in deep grays mostly, but blacks too and some more silvery with thinner fur than first-generation lycans.

To Michael's surprise Selene had slowly unclipped her waist belt, allowing her weapons to fall uselessly to the floor even as the lycan padded closer. Michael was moving nearest to Selene but she was quick to stop him with a raised hand behind her. Morgan had wordlessly followed Selene's gesture of peace though from her frown the succubus had obviously not liked it.

"We mean not to intrude and certainly no harm." Selene paused carefully stealing glances at the other lycans.

They had remained farther back only staring the same as they had moments before. All were young lycans that either had not the age nor proper mentor to help teach willpower to control the change but it helped to know lycans in form under a calm mind state still understood human language.

"You're being hunted as are we and we wish to offer help in exchange for yours."

The lycan leader had stopped only feet from Selene, she dwarfing the huge male's 9 foot frame. The bi-eyed lycan's mouth had softened, flesh retracting to once more cover flesh ripping teeth. His huge head cocked in an almost friendly comical way as he stared at the small woman.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief inwardly, he had trusted Selene but he was the first to admit he did not believe it was going to be so easy but the leader had relaxed and so too had the other 12 members.

But underneath composure Michael was beginning to feel strange. It was more than unnerving the way the male stared, it was downright infuriating and the hybrid wanted blood for it. The eyes were all wrong, contradictory to the alpha body language.

It was wrong somehow and Michael was beginning to sense his new feelings were just. The colossal alpha had turned his attention to Michael and before anyone was the wiser, swatted him with the strength of a grizzly bear.

That was when the alpha howled and charged for Selene.

"Selene!" Morgan tried to warn.

She had been ready with a tuck and roll to her right where her weapons belt lay but she left them be instead facing the lycan with her own teeth gritted in challenge. Selene didn't even turn to see the sword whirling towards her, a gift of aid from Morgan.

Thank you Morgan.

The 17th century Hungarian battle sword gleaned wickedly in her hand, it was Morgan's weapon of choice and expertise but Selene herself was fairly skilled with the weapon and confident she could hold her own.

As long as the rest of pack stayed put.

She swung the blade out catching the alpha in his chest and again in the beast's ribs, the alpha yelped before charging again snapping at the flying steel of Selene's weapon, unafraid in his rage even as blow after blow was dealt.

Morgan wasted no time evening the odds and catching the wolf in the flank that lay unguarded. The alpha was standing at full height now and drooling with anticipation, he threw his massive head back and bellowed.

The pack was joining the attack!

Flesh met biting steel of the succubus's weapon and rolling the blade round struck another bold lycan. "Remind me that I hate your plans!" Morgan called out.

Selene didn't answer her all too aware this was a possibility but she didn't worry, she was all too aware of something Morgan was not.

A yelp sounded, following a young lycan's body pitched clear through the shuffle and bouncing along to tear straight through a pile of broken brick. Through the cloud of grime and grit a newcoming lycan was emerging tearing through both lycan flesh and any support beams that were in the way, loping with open mouth of jagged teeth and black eyes fixed on the alpha for complete annilation.

This smaller individual lycan was black in color with a bluish tint extremely unique coloring Selene would know anywhere but this was not a form she had ever seen him take, a full lycan. She hadn't even known him capable. She doubted conscious effort had anything to do with it only rage and anger could be responsible for this transformation, Michael was running on pure lycan instinct.

It seemed the Corvinus strain was full of surprises. Much to their advantage.

A snarl and slap of impact had the alpha down and the irate newcomer pressing colossal grey blue talons in the chest of the leading male. The leading male simply lunged at the strange newcomer locking his heavy jaws on the vulnerable throat and began to shake Michael the challenger.

Michael broke free from the alpha only to be charged by an overzealous youth, the youngster promptly received a rip of talons and teeth to his face and shoulder. Beaten the youth promptly retreated the fight not even daring to look back at the dangerous lycan gripping bits of the foolish one's flesh between teeth.

Unable to savor the victory or spoils Michael returned to the alpha who had turned his attention to Selene and Morgan who were holding the beast at bay. Raging Michael struck, sinking lethal chops onto tough lycan hide and tearing with effort that made his jaws hurt. But the alpha was strong and plenty experienced coiling his powerful hind legs in a bucking rhythm and shaking his hide.

Michael was flung into brick but found his feet once more and charged in a thundering of paws, only 7 feet at full height, much smaller than alpha-male but clearly faster and stronger.

They collided again, an entanglement of talons and teeth, ripping each other apart until the hybrid-turned-lycan sank his canines in the soft underside of the alpha's throat and clamped hard dragging the conquered male along in salivating jaws.

The alpha had had enough and howled in defeat. Unlocking his hold, Michael had promptly let go of the heap of battered lupine but remained cloaking the lycan underneath him in the victor's shadow and the fallen lycan simply coiled and cowered, wise not to rise again. Afterall such was a great display of mercy on the hybrid's part to spare the defeated and rising would do nothing but force the winner's anger and retribution, it was ancient law amongst all lycans. A law every lycan instinctively understood and accepted.

The light of the moon clearly still affecting him as well as victory because upon surveying his surroundings Michael the lycan reared up onto his full height and howled in triumph and every visible lycan cowered in absolute deference. None would challenge.

Amongst these young immortals Michael had earned awe and respect in only moments.

He stood tall, not just one lycan over another, but a true alpha male staking claim. Food, territory and pack by lycan law were his. The moon was high and piercing through the chamber illuminating the hybrid. A vampire, a werewolf, a Corvinus.

A warlord, the same but different as his ancestor Alexander Corvinus before him.

Selene nearly allowed herself to feel pride.

Now perhaps things could progress more civilly.