Hollow

Chapter One

         The muscles in Narcissa’s back stretched and tightened as she rolled her shoulder and tucked her right arm behind her head.  Her breathing was labored and her legs sang in the afterglow of a good run.  A light breeze rustled the wisps of pitch black hair that had come loose from her ponytail so she brushed them away absently as her eyes narrowed in response to the heavy rays of midmorning sunlight.  The hairs on her arm bristled as a shadow approached her from behind.  The scent of the woods mixed with sweat and blood flooded through her senses, and she smiled.  “You’re late.”
         Narcissa spun around, her deep green eyes meeting an artic blue.  No matter how many times she had looked into Thatcher’s eyes, she was still chilled to the bone at how cold they could be.  As always he was dressed to the nines in black slacks and a button-down oxford shirt, the top two buttons conveniently undone.  Thatcher wasn’t wearing a jacket which meant that his weapon of choice was hidden elsewhere on his body, rather than the gun holster that he usually had over his shoulder.  “Actually,” He stated, his body looking relaxed in the daylight as he pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, “I’m right on time.” 
         Narcissa looked unamused as he slid on the sunglasses which were usually a good idea in times like these.  One could never be too careful at what Big Brother was looking for, and Thatcher was already wanted by several organizations for his help in The Mystery Hand Operation which had lead to the shakedown of the government that we used to know and the revolution that proceeded.  No one could have predicted the chaos and the direct step back in humanity the Earth had become.  The park that they were standing in right now was completely desolate say for a few early morning risers.  Narcissa would guess that each one of them was of some kind of supernatural origin. 
         Laws were quickly being formed by a new form of government and while humans were protected under these regulations, crimes had rose to an all-time high.  The revelation of a Genetic Evolution had caused a lot of tension among the species.  Humans weren’t at the top of the food chain anymore; instead they had been replaced by species the world had never known before.  Species that had been in existence since the dawn of time, but had been forced to remain in hiding for fear of complete annihilation of their kind.  Both Narcissa and the man in front of her belonged in that category.  They were Lycanthrope which were also called Shapeshifters, or more specifically werewolves.  They were humans that had been born with a genetic mutation that caused a Jekyll and Hyde effect.  They could appear to be human, but deep within their bodies laid an animal ready to rise.  Of course, thanks to Hollywood and natural evolution, a lot of what was known about them was a complete misconception. 
         The Lycanthrope lore could be traced back to The Norse Warriors.  Berserkers often wore hides of an animal on their heads during war, although what the history book didn’t tell you is that not all of those hides were from other animals.  The virus had spread through their camps causing the warriors to change into a human with wolf-like qualities.  They still stood erect, but their faces resembled those of wolves as did their movements and senses.  It was the animal inside of them that made them so feral and fearless.  No one is sure where the virus originally came from or how it came to infect these warriors, but from there it spread and then changed.  Now, the virus causes the human infected with it, to change completely into a wolf.  They are not the deformed monsters that you see in the movies or comic books.  They are like the wolves that you find in the wild, only much larger and they retain the intelligence of the human that possesses it.  Full moons controlling the change and Wolfsbane keeping the animal in side at bay are all bullshit.  The only story that humans have come up with can be given some kind of merit is the silver bullet idea.  Silver actually contains an alloy that makes a scratch or cut harder to heal, not to mention that there will be a scar left behind if it does. 
         “Have a nice trip?” Thatcher asked grabbing Narcissa’s arm which she begrudgingly allowed him to because if she had wanted, she could have pulled away.  He would have left a mark from the angle that he had caught her, but it would have been worth it just to see the look on his face. 
         “Everyone deserves a vacation,” Narcissa stated, walking with him to the black van parked at the curb.  There on the door was a painted insignia stating that they too belonged to an organization as well, but they use the term ‘belong’ loosely.  To be honest, it was just a cover for their real purpose in the junkyard the Earth had become.  Taking one last look at the broken building horizon, Narcissa slid into the van with Thatcher following her close.  Keeping her face unreadable, she squirmed at being so close to her bodyguard.  She had known him all of her life, and her feelings were often torn about which pile to place him in.  Usually with men it was easy to divide them between the real meat and just scraps that you threw for the dogs.  Thatcher had the sort of personality that tasted bad in her mouth because it was often filled with an overload of testosterone and word tricks.  He was stubborn and thought that he knew everything just because he was now on several organizations’ Most Wanted Lists which only cemented his need to prove that he was a badass.  But it was also all of those things that made him so appealing to her.  She might be someone who enforced the law, but she had a respect for those with the balls to break it. 
         “I would hardly call finding a mate, a vacation,” Thatcher replied, his arm snaking around the back of the seat so that his skin touched hers in electrifying jolts.  The van had begun to move over the bumpy road of cracked asphalt, so it masked the way she had jumped to his touch.  In most cases, she tried to keep an arms distance from Thatcher.  Her father had granted him immunity in their territory, but Narcissa knew that he wouldn’t take too kindly to his only daughter sleeping with him, especially since Thatcher was looked down upon for never taking a mate.  The other alpha males didn’t take too kindly to him and have been biting at the bit to have one reason that would constitute tearing him apart.   
         “It is compared to the older laws that make us breed like dogs,” Narcissa spat angrily.  It was hard enough that there were hundreds of new DNA strands floating around, and even worse when you were a female having to pick a mate to keep your species from extinction. 
         A cruel smile spread across Thatcher’s lips accentuating his perfectly proportioned features.  He was comparable to an old Roman Statue that she had only read about in books.  She was fairly sure that they no longer stood, since the war was sure to have tainted those lands as well.  His face came down to dance closely near hers.  She could have leaned forward and her lips would have brushed against his, and ended this static that seemed to be growing around her from his mere presence.  “Woof, woof,” He stated blandly and her jaw set. 
         Narcissa had a bad habit of grinding her teeth when she was angry, when really all she wanted to do was shove his head through the window.  “Suddenly, I remember the reason why I didn’t find a mate,” She replied bitterly, “They all remind me of you.”  The statement was both true and not so much.  Thatcher was a one of a kind find, which was one of the reasons why her father had granted him immediate immunity in their territory.  Those other men that she had courted had only been secondhand Thatcher’s, and why settle for that when you could come home and have the real thing? 
         “Mm,” Thatcher retorted, the sound coming low from his throat.  Narcissa’s green eyes remained trained on the back of the driver’s head, but that one sound had made something within her stir.  She worked on counting backwards from one hundred, but his voice interrupted her thoughts once again.  “Oh by the way, I wasn’t just sent as your welcome home party.”
         “There’s something more?”  Narcissa kept her eyes still, and quietly pressed her nails into the palm of her hand so hard she nearly drew blood. 
         “There’s always something more when I’m around,” Thatcher answered and Narcissa didn’t bother to hide the eye roll that followed his statement. 
         “Seriously, Thatch?  I’m not one of those bitches that you go around feeding lines to just to get them in bed for one night.  So you can drop the cute act and get down to business since I know it’s not a little thing if they sent you,” Narcissa replied angrily, but it was the truth.  The world wasn’t a safe place anymore and fetching her was a risk as it was, so there had to be something more to the story.
         Her words seemed to snap Thatcher back from his playtime and right down to business.  What Narcissa had grew to know about Thatcher in the last three years that he had held resident within her pack’s territory was that he was an asshole, he had been a cop and a secret government agent, and that he was damn good at his job within the pack.  Narcissa’s father had been looking out for someone that could enforce pack law, but also carry out punishment when warranted which often meant death and a brutal one at that.  Thatcher had been perfect for it due to his background in law enforcement.  He was level headed and vicious. 
         When he had first arrived, the pack was in jeopardy due to informants that were trying to cause a rebellion against her father in order for another leader to take reign of its members.  It took him only a month to take care of the problem and since then the pack had remained one of the strongest in Virginia.  None of the members of the pack wanted to put themselves in the position of having to meet face to face with Thatcher, especially when the meeting called for blood.  Narcissa had seen the judgment take place since it was often customary for the pack to witness the act.  As strange as it sounded, the whole thing served as both a morale boost and a warning for the members.  They were safe as long as they didn’t threaten the safety of others.  It was a simple theory, but there always was that one idiot that just couldn’t seem to grasp it.     
         Thatcher sat up a little straighter, and Narcissa could tell that behind those opaque sunglasses, he was organizing his thoughts.  What he knew and what he was going to tell her.  It was often the case with the two of them since they stood on two sides of the line.  Narcissa might have been the pack leader’s daughter and part of the pack, but she also answered to another allegiance and that was to The Supernatural Investigation Division.  The S.I.D. was a newly formed Division in the city’s Police Department.  It was Narcissa’s job to carry out the law of the new government which often clashed with Thatcher’s job of carrying out the law of the pack.  The new laws still made murder illegal, unless it was being carried out by the government after the person had been tried in a court. 
         “There’s been a murder,” Thatcher stated, his voice remaining neutral as he ticked off the facts, “Darcy Worhl, nineteen, and unmated.” 
         Narcissa immediately felt her eyes narrow at the last words.  “So, she’s one of us?” She confirmed, turning her eyes on Thatcher. 
         He nodded, “She was ready to take a mate and was about to take the tour once you had returned, but she was found in town with a silver knife stuck in her and a calling card.”
         “What kind of calling card?” Narcissa asked, feeling a flash of annoyance that he was not being forthcoming with the information. 
         “A business card,” Thatcher answered, “With the words ‘Harm seek.  Harm find.’ wrote on it.”  He paused, “I didn’t get to see very much of it because the time that I was informed, your people had shown up.” 
         Narcissa had to fight the smirk that was crossing her lips.  No wonder Thatcher had come to personally escort her.  It was a pack issue, one that he would usually take care of, but he didn’t have the proper resources to carry it out since her own team had taken charge of the scene.  There was no doubt in her mind that Thatcher had to be escorted off the premises, and was almost looking forward to checking her messages when she got home.  She could just hear her partner‘s voice on her voicemail recounting all the little details.  She could always count on Detective Shaw to watch her back and give her the head’s up when it could be something that concerned her.  “I’ll check it out when I get there tomorrow,” Narcissa stated, fighting to keep her face slack.  She knew that the minute she reached her doorway, she was diving for the phone to find out all that she could before she saw the crime scene photos and the evidence. 
         “Well, see, that’s the problem,” Thatcher replied coolly.  “You know that this falls under pack jurisdiction.”  Narcissa looked out the window as Rolling Pines Manor came into view.  The manor had been built to resemble a large castle, including the rustic look of grey stones lining the exterior and a customized oak door nestled in an arched doorway.  Since the revolution, stone wolves had been added to the balconies, plainly warning those that might trespass that they were on wolf territory. 
         “And you know that pack law does not trump government law,” Narcissa responded watching her childhood home crawling closer and closer into view.  “I cannot help you with this, Thatcher,” Narcissa added, “It’s an open investigation-”
         “Yes,” Thatcher interrupted, “An open investigation.  One of several investigations that have been lumped on your department’s understaffed and underpaid detectives.  An investigation that is getting colder and colder by the minute, and could be easily solved by letting the natural organization of our kind take charge.”
         Narcissa tilted her head towards the male wolf, her eyes flashing with anger.  “Did you forget that I am too part of this pack and that I am more than qualified to investigate a murder of one of our own?”  Narcissa watched as Thatcher shifted his body about to say something more, but she beat him to the punch.  “This is personal Thatcher.  This is my home, my pack.  No matter how we capture the killer, all you should care is that they’re caught and punished.”
         Not waiting for the van to slow down to a stop, Narcissa pulled the handle to the door so that it popped open, exposing the miles of land to the side of her.  Before Thatcher could pull her back, she slid her body onto the ground with expert balance and began to walk to the front door.  No matter what argument Thatcher had for her, she knew the words she and her father were about to have would be even worse.