1 Chapter 1: In the Dark

REM'S POV

A low growl escaped Remmis' throat as they knelt in a muddy puddle. They watched as two Mundane women passed the alley's entrance and briefly considered robbing them. Throwing the idea out, Rem remained in place. Attacking a Mundane, even in the middle of the night, would only bring the Hunters down on them.

Rem shivered at the prospect. The Hunters protected the other Mundanes—those without magic or special abilities—with a ruthlessness that made even the most powerful mages think twice.

As the women disappeared around the corner and out of sight, Rem stood and glanced around the street. The air was cold as the world began to transition from fall to winter and the gathering clouds promised rain. The darkened skyline of Chicago's massive buildings made them feel trapped. The city had become more and more hostile to magic born people.

Every day it seemed more Hunters walked the streets, arresting and attacking anyone with magic for the most minor reasons. Even talking to a Mundane while existing as a mage or shifter was enough to draw their ire.

Rem wrapped their arms around themself and hurried into the street with no regard for passing cars. They hurried past the mirrored windows of various office buildings trying to ignore their own reflection. Angular features that others had called sharp when they stooped to insulting Rem's appearance were mostly hidden under a mass of rich, red hair. The strands were plastered to their scalp, filthy from a lack of bathing and well on their way to being matted. Their torn jeans and stained tee-shirt, stolen from a charity shop weeks ago, didn't fit particularly well. The long coat they'd snagged from someone on the subway covered the more noticeable stains though, and helped protect them against the cold and dark nights.

Rem's grip tightened as their stomach growled and they cursed under their breath. With a quick change of direction, they started heading down a side street. Eyes forward, hands lowered, they walked quickly and purposely ignored everyone they passed.

The area of Chicago they walked was known as Imp's Row. A dangerous section of the city, even for those of the magical persuasion, which the Mundane avoided entirely. Rem wasn't exactly unknown in the area, a loner and shifter unwilling to join any particular group, and kept their head down as they moved stealthily.

A group of male werewolves, in their human guise but still smelling like their last full moon, moved closer to the sidewalk from their own alley. They nodded to each other as they sniffed the air and studied Rem.

A quick movement of their hand and Rem's fingers lengthened, the nails growing into long, sharp talons. The meager light from the street lamps reflected off their black, cat-like claws. Not to be so easily deterred from his entertainment, the pack leader continued to approach. Rem turned, meeting his gaze and shifted their eyes to a frightening golden hue to match the claws. Their yellow eyes stared at him and their black slits contracted as they took him in as a fellow predator. The pack leader paused and Rem hurried on, not giving him a chance to reconsider.

Footsteps from behind had Rem bracing. A large man, easily twice Rem's weight, slammed into their shoulder and she caught the scent of a fellow shifter before he continued past.

"Watch it," Rem growled at him.

"Mind your business, lady," he shot back.

"Not exactly a lady," they muttered. Though they generally didn't mind those pronouns being used by others, this use was annoying coming from him. Rem smirked at his cursing as he hurried on. His attempt to pick their pocket was clumsy and worthless since they had nothing to take.

Passing another block, Rem turned quickly. They slipped through a door and into a small, dark, and dingy bar. Almost immediately a voice called out to them.

"Nope! Out with you!"

Rem sighed and turned to the bar's owner, a short and squat older man. "I said I was sorry, Figgus," they said, spreading their hands. "You've already replaced it, anyway." They gestured behind themself to the brand-new front entrance door. "I promised no more throwing customers and I swore I'd pay you back for the door."

"You've been saying that for a month," Figgus grumbled.

Two of the four patrons in the bar looked up from their drinks at the exchange and began watching, curious.

Rem shifted their feet, uncomfortable with the attention. "Come on, man, I just need a sandwich or something. I'll wash your dishes, clean your bathroom, whatever."

Figgus put a hand under the bar, fixing her with a nasty look. "Bring me my money and then we'll talk. Out."

Knowing the twelve-gauge the old man kept in arm's reach was always loaded—and worse, with blessed and silver tipped bullets—Rem cursed him under their breath, but obeyed, backing out of the bar. It was close, but they managed to keep from slamming the new door on the way out. They raked a hand through their hair, more brown than red and gritty from the dirt they'd slept in recently, shook it free from a tangle, and got walking once more.

The door reopened after only a few steps and a heavy hand landed on their shoulder. Rem spun around, claws ready.

A lanky older woman stepped back from them, hands up. "Didn't mean nothing," she said.

"What do you want?" Rem growled.

"You looking for some cash?" she asked. "I got a job you can do to earn it."

Rem looked her up and down. "Not interested."

She rolled her eyes. "Not that kinda job." She glanced behind Rem and continued. "I know someone who wants a thing recovered."

Rem's eyes narrowed slightly. "What thing?"

The woman smiled. "Pretty sure they just found her."

A whiff of a familiar scent hit Rem's nose and they swore, ducking to the side in the same instant. A baseball bat sailed right through the place their head had been. They moved quickly, coming up on their knees and saw that the werewolves had followed them. Three of the big men grinned while a smaller female glared at the bar patron. Rem felt a shiver of fear run through them as they tried to figure out why the pack had changed their mind about attacking.

"Didn't do anything to you, dogs," Rem snarled. They flicked their other hand, shifting it to claws as well.

The female wolf dismissed the patron back to the bar with a wave of her hand and stepped forward. "Didn't have to, Remmis," she said. "You've got a bounty and we intend to collect."

The three men advanced as their muscles began rippling under their skin. Coarse gray fur began to sprout and their faces elongated as they began to transform.

Weighing their options, Rem turned and ran, once again regretting the lack of a sports bra. The werewolves howled behind them in delight as they leisurely chased after, confident they'd have no problem catching Rem.

Fast as they were, Rem was no match for the wolves in their current form. They ducked around a corner and took a precious few seconds to concentrate, trying to block out the sound of the wolves' taunting. Rem's own muscles shivered and changed. Dark patterned fur grew from their skin, and their size shifted as they hit the ground on all fours. Seconds later, Rem ran down the alley again in the form of a serval cat.

The shift had changed their scent and bought them time as the wolves changed focus at the mouth of the alley. With keener senses, Rem took a deep breath. The smell of freshly cooked meat wafted from an open window ahead and Rem turned toward it, the wolves momentarily forgotten in their mind.

Rem made their way up a fire escape and threw their smaller form at the window screen. The weak metal mesh broke inward and Rem exploded into the shoddy little apartment in a hissing ball of fur. The occupant screamed and backed away as Rem tore through.

Playing into the scared cat act, Rem launched themself up onto the counters, knocking spices to the ground, and chomped into a freshly cooked chicken haunch before leaping back out the window.

The screaming and furious occupant chased after them. Food was scarce these days, especially for those living in the run-down Imp's Row.

Rather than head down the fire escape once more, Rem kept climbing with the chicken firmly latched in their jaws. Below in the street, they could hear the werewolves growling and snapping at each other in anger.

Rem made their way to the roof but didn't stop there. They ran quickly, and leapt across the now considerable distance between buildings. While only about four stories high, the buildings were still taller than most in the area and the wind that blew through the blackened sky shot right through Rem's considerably thick fur. They began to shiver slightly but continued on anyway, desperate to get away from the scene and wolves below.

The street lamps' dim light didn't quite reach to the roofs and Rem had to rely on the meager stars that managed to peak through the growing cloud cover. They scrambled across the pitch and gravel covered rooftops, dodging broken bottles and other debris, as they jumped across several more gaps before finally coming to a stop several blocks away. They paused and listened carefully but heard no sign of pursuit.

Breathing heavily, Rem carefully shifted back to their human form and spit the chicken haunch into their hands. They collapsed to the hard rooftop, exhausted but proud of themself. The sky above opened and a downpour of chilling rain was unleashed on the city. With a shrug Rem tore into the food.

Their delight in the situation quickly faded, though. Rem considered the apartment they'd been in and realized with growing panic that it had belonged to a Mundane. They'd just made a very large problem for themselves.