Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the awesome world in which they live.

A/N: This has been rattling around in my head for a while, so here goes…

Howl

Prologue

The park was silent, shrouded in shadows and bathed in the eerie moonlight of a starless sky. On any other night it may have been picturesque. Romantic even. But here, in this moment, its beauty was drowned out by the beating of hearts; the pounding of blood as it pushed to legs, pumping past the point of exhaustion.

It wasn't as if she'd never been pursued before. In her years as an agent, she'd been both predator and prey on the hunt for artifacts or other various threats posed against the warehouse. But this was something wholly different.

She felt her throat tighten as it forced breath to and from her lungs. They were sandpaper dry, stinging, but she couldn't give in to their tired plea, lest she be consumed.

Her hair whipped wildly behind her as she turned for the briefest moment. The beast was bearing down on her, closing the meters-long gap between them with every stride.

She thought briefly on the black coal depths of those hungry eyes and felt the cold pull of a tear as it trailed from the corner of her eye, lost to the wind.

She skimmed over some low bushes and through a small grove of trees, never slowing as the branches raked at her face, arms, legs. She felt the sting and used it to spur her legs into continued action. She's been running for what seemed like an eternity. Pete had lost her half a mile back as she cut under a tunnel and over what felt like a tile mosaic. How had their mission gone so horribly wrong?

They had snagged the artifact in question, so how was it that she now found herself running for her life through Central Park at this ungodly hour? She pushed these thoughts from her head and tried to concentrate on the movement of her legs. Her arms were alight with tiny fires from the needle-cuts of a thousand barbs, tearing the fabric from her limbs and leaving pink-puckered trails in their wake.

She was crying in earnest now, not simply allowing the wind to pull tears from her eyes. She knew that she couldn't carry on like this for much longer. Even this agent had her limits. She could hear the beat of heavy strides growing ever closer and the panting breath of her pursuer.

At that moment, an errant root caught the toe of her boot and pulled the sky into view as she hit the earth with a rib-cracking thud. She lay, sprawled, helpless and broken on the grass, her body vibrating with the shear struggle to remain conscious, too consumed by fear to shut down.

In mere seconds the beast was over her, hungry and curious at the sudden end to their flight. She fought through the tears, trying to make out the edges of the face, so close to her own. She felt breath, hot and ragged, across her neck and the sweep of long, dark hair tickling her arms through shredded shirtsleeves.

It was the cruelest way she could think to die, to be literally consumed by the woman she loved. She blinked back the offending tears and brought the beast into focus. Wild, india ink eyes, empty and searching raked over her limp body as swirling jet black hair caught the moonlight. The beast's face was almost recognizable under the streaks of dirt and spatters of mud. Not even the savagery of nature could tarnish the beauty she'd always had.

A smooth, square jaw stretched as a low rumbling growl snaked through full lips, pulling to reveal a mouth of menacingly sharp teeth. The agent shuddered as the beast crouched low over her, noses nearly touching. Her fear had gotten the better of her and she shook uncontrollably.

"Please," She wheezed through cracked ribs. The beast cocked its head to one side and smiled razors.

"I used to imagine you begging, my love. So many times." Rasped the low, savage voice. The beast laid the cool blade of her finger against the agent's temple. "It's everything I'd hoped for and more, darling." It let the soft comforting touch turn sinister and what started as a caress turned to the stinging drag of a sharp claw as the woman's face was subjected to the pull of blood, beading a thin line from crown to chin. She whimpered.

"Myka, please."

The beast quirked at the mention of her name. Her dark eyes flashed and a wicked smiled pulled her lips tight across a dangerous mouth. She dipped down to taste the salt-slick skin at the hollow of Helena's throat. The agent strained and struggled as sharp teeth came dangerously close to her pulse-point.

"There's no point in fighting, my love. It could only ever end this way." The beast that held Myka's form spoke with her voice, cold and calculating, "One of us was destined to destroy the other. I gave you the chance a year ago and you faltered." As she spoke, the beast walked needle-tipped fingers up her sternum and curled them, one-by-one around her thin neck. Helena sputtered at the pressure. "Now it's my turn. But believe me, I will not stop until you are completely undone, my love."

The beast with cruel eyes – with Myka's face, Myka's voice – stretched languidly, the moonlight running rivulets down her long form, catching on the ravaged clothing clinging to her sinew-wrapped arms. She gave Helena, now attempting to take deep panic breaths, one last sinister smile before bringing her pearly blades to pull across the agent's chest.

Helena jerked as she felt her skin rip like lace, just over her heart. Her eyes flashed wide at the sensation and she fought, violently, to maintain consciousness. She couldn't end like this. They couldn't end like this. This wasn't Myka, it was an artifact! Myka would never –

"Oh god!" she choked out as she felt the rake of teeth across her skin a second time. She had to fight, had to push. This wasn't going to be their story. Helena gripped the strong forearm clasped at her throat and pushed with all her strength. The beast startled, not expecting the sudden shift of force. Helena pushed herself up and Myka staggered backward, struggling to stand awkwardly.

Helena could feel the rush of blood soaking through her shirt and looked up at Myka. Blood stained her beautiful mouth and her hair was a wild halo of moonlight. The Victorian blinked, once, twice; her eyes suddenly felt heavy with the weight of life slipping from her.

She could feel the ground come up to catch here and was only vaguely aware of the bright crack that ripped the silent air as she slowly ebbed.

A gunshot.

Then the heavy weight of a body falling over her own.

The beast's voice was in her ear now, but it sounded like a woman – a woman she loved.

"Helena, I'm sorry." It rasped.

And then darkness swallowed her senses and she was lost.