Everything Is Eclipsed by the Shape of Destiny

She moved in silence through the forest, careful to keep her figure close to the ground so as to remain hidden by the shrubberies and boulders that were scattered about it. She’d been maneuvering herself in that manner for hours, having left the safety of her cave as soon as the sun began its descent. And as she moved under the cover of darkness, as her eyes took in the surroundings, she hoped that that would be the day in which she would finally cross paths with Harry and Hermione, because after three and a half weeks of looking for them, she was beginning to lose the little faith she had, she was beginning to think that there would be no finding them, that they had died someplace where they would never be found.

Perhaps that was an extreme thought for her to have, perhaps she should have thought her abilities unsuited for finding the pair, but Emerson had the upmost faith in her abilities as a tracker. In the past, whenever she had sought someone or something out, she’d always found it. There were times when it took several days, once she’d spent an entire week at it, but she always managed to accomplish her task. But now, now she wasn’t so sure she would.

Emerson had scoured the entire United Kingdom, having gone up all the way to Scotland, having apparated over to Ireland to give it a thorough search, and having returned to Great Britain to try so see if they were hiding in familiar land, but it didn’t matter where she went or what wilderness she explored in her plight, because she couldn’t catch the scent of Hermione’s perfume, she couldn’t find a trace of either teenager. It was as if they’d disappeared off the face of the earth. Emerson understood that they had to be careful, leave no evidence of where they’d been, but sometimes she couldn’t help but wish that they’d been a little foolish and left a gap in their defenses that she could’ve slipped through. That would’ve made everything so much easier, but that was just wishful thinking on her part. If they were alive, they were using advanced spells to keep their location hidden. And not even a jaguar can see through that magic. That was why she relied to heavily on her sense of smell, if she could just catch a hint of Hermione’s perfume, it would all be over, she could go all the way to where the defenses were up, transform into her human form and implore them to let her in, but there was no perfume, there was no chance of her returning to her human form, at least not at the present.

For the entire duration of her expedition, she had been in jaguar form. It made it easier to live. She didn’t have to cook her meat or build suitable shelter. She could eat raw meat and sleep in a cave that would keep her warm enough. It was difficult for her to be in jaguar form for such an extended period, it was hard to not have any contact with the human world except for the occasional snatchers she crossed paths with, but she pushed on, determined to find those two, because they were the only ones that could make everything better. And she needed things to get better. She was fed up with seeing Fleur kissing Bill, and seeing them play the part of the lovely newlywed couple. She wanted to find Harry, to help him so that he could end the war, and so she could then be free to be with Bill. Her motives were selfish, she would never argue that they weren’t, but it was those motives that kept her going on dark nights when she wanted to admit defeat.

And on that night, as she trekked through the forest, she indulged herself with thoughts of what the future might hold for them. The thought of starting a life, a family together, kept her motivated. The bitter cold wasn’t enough to make her turn back. This was all a part of fighting for what she wanted, she couldn’t give up. She’d done that before. As a result of it, Bill had gotten married, but she’d never give up again. He loved her. And knowing that he reciprocated her feelings was enough to make wandering the forest in the early hours of the morning, a manageable task.

There were just a few hours left before sun up, and when the sky brightened, she’d have to take shelter. She’d worry about that later, for the present, she’d keep focused on finding Harry or Hermione, but on that night she was meant to find something else, better said, someone else. She’d just left the safety of the forest when a disgustingly sweet scent struck her. It was as if someone had purchased every body spray and perfume in England, and had decided to empty out in the wilderness. The potent stench not only sickened her, but it awoke the ancient predator whom knew very well that only one creature in the world carried that scent; vampires.

With her predatory instincts in full control, she broke into a sprint, taking off in direction of where the smell originated from. The closer she grew to the smell, the stronger her nostrils burned. The scent overwhelmed her. She needed to kill the vampires to bring an end to that cursed stench or she would lose her mind, but her thirst for blood came to an end when she saw that a village was where the smell came from, and when she heard the screams of men, women and children, she faltered for a moment, her human self took back control, if only briefly. Her human mind implored her to transform back into her human self and apparate to the Burrow to request back up, but her predatory self – the jaguar spirit – refused to leave, not a moment could be spared, and so it took hold of her mind, and with newfound determination, charged the town.

The falling snow did nothing to hinder her approach, her eyes were firmly fixed ahead, and her paws were immune to the freezing temperatures they were being exposed to. She was going to protect humans from vampires whom saw them as nothing more than blood bags, and when she saw the first vampire, a gaunt looking woman with golden blonde hair, she crouched low to the ground and then pounced on her, stopping her from attacking a family that was seeking shelter in the local police station.

“Get off!” ordered the woman, her eyes holding a manic look. “Off you beast!” she screamed, trying desperately to throw the jaguar off her.

A low growl was Emerson’s response. She lowered her face to the vampire, wanting it to be the last eyes she saw before she was killed, and wasting no more time, Emerson slightly raised her face before parting her mouth and taking the vampire’s head into her mouth. She clamped her canines as hard as she could, and soon the head had been torn from the neck, and tossed aside, its lifeless blood red eyes staring blankly into the night. The same treatment was given to the rest of the body; it was dismembered and would be left on the street for the sun to destroy.

“Isolde!” cried a vampire at the end of the street, at least twenty yards away from Emerson. He had high cheekbones, thin lips, and looked considerably older than Isolde had looked. “You killed her!” he yelled, approaching Emerson with caution. “You filthy –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his insult, before he was able to get the next word out, Emerson had pounced on him. He didn’t go down as easily as Isolde had. She’d been caught off guard, having been completely unaware of the jaguar’s presence, but the male vampire had seen her, he knew she would attack him and as such, readied himself for the impending battle. He’d never crossed paths with a shifted before. There had been stories that he’d heard from other vampires that he met on his journey, but he’d thought them nothing more than old tales from centuries gone by, but there was a shifter, trying to kill him, and his strength – the strength of a 79 year old man trapped within a 34 year olds body – was failing him. Had he been older, had he had perhaps another century under his belt, he could’ve put up a better fight, but he was a young vampire, and the jaguar was much too strong for him, the centuries of cultivating the sacred blood line had made her far too deadly, the spirits lived on in her jaguar form, and so after minutes of being engaged in heated battle, she tore off an arm, sending it flying off in the distance, and then clenched down on the neck, forcing the head to roll off and the rest of his being to fall limp.

“What is that mummy?” asked a child softly.

“I haven’t a clue dear, but it saved us.”

Emerson glanced up; her dark fur covered in the blood of the vampire, and found herself staring at a little boy, about four years old, five at the most. He was in his pajamas. The vampires had attacked while he’d been sleeping, and his mother had run out with him, dressed in nothing more than an oversized shirt, she’d braved the cold to get him to where she thought safety existed.

“Thank you, kittie,” said the little boy.

A slight bow of the head was her reply, and before either human could say anything else, she took off running in direction of the screams. She could smell human blood in the air; it was mixed with the disgustingly sweet scent of the vampires. She ran and ran until she came across a group of three vampires whom were accompanied by Death Eaters. The moment the Death Eaters saw her imposing figure, they remembered what had happened to Fenrir, and without warning the vampires, they apparated to safety.

The loud pops that their exits made took the vampires attention away from the dying muggles and redirected it towards the jaguar. They watched her with curious eyes. Only one had ever come across a shifter before, but it hadn’t been a jaguar shifter, it had been a wolf, and the scars that were scattered about her face and arms were testament to the grueling fight that she’d undergone in order to stay alive.

“Well look what we have here,” she spoke, though she didn’t have a British accent like the other vampires had, hers was very much American. “I haven’t seen any of your kind in decades. Thought you’d been wiped out,” she approached slowly, but stopped when Emerson crouched low and growled warningly. “You’ve killed.”

“It’s done what?” asked the other vampire, a baby faced man who looked no older than sixteen. “What do ya mean, Agatha?” he pressed, his accent Scottish.

“The beast has Isolde and Cormac on her fur.” Agatha stated. “Smell closely, Hamish, their scent comes from him. His fur has –”

Emerson growled.

“You’re not a man, are you?” Agatha stared intently at Emerson. “No, those eyes can’t belong to any man. There’s far too much soul in them, too much emotion. You’re a woman.” She stared in disbelief. “Didn’t think there were lady shifters, I’ve only ever come across men.”

“Shifter?” questioned Hamish. “You mean those stories you’ve told are true? I thought they were just a load of talk.”

“They’re true.” Agatha paused, still staring Emerson firmly in the eyes. “And this one means to kill us.”

“Then why are we standing about?” spoke the other vampire, a heavy set man with piercing black eyes. “Do something or at the very least tell us what to do.”

“He thinks it’ll be easy,” Agatha laughed, “That the three of us will easily overpower you. His ignorance makes him foolish. Will he be the first you take?” she questioned, beginning to step forward. “Or maybe you don’t want someone foolish. Maybe you want a challenge. I can see it in your eyes that I’ve interested you. You’re staring at the scars that your fellow shifters left on me. And I bet you’re wondering if they lived.”

That was precisely what Emerson was wondering. Had she been in her human form she would’ve been tempted to ask how the battles that had won Agatha those scars had ended, but her curiosity was not meant be satisfied, those questions would go unanswered, because Emerson was not about to make polite conversation, she was ready to kill, and was only waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

“Enough!” cried the heavy set man.

Before Agatha could yell for him to stop, he had taken off in a full sprint towards Emerson, laughing himself at the jaguar, but he was so set in striking her where she stood, that she easily ducked out of the way, sending him crashing onto the blood drenched pavement.

“Don’t help him!” Agatha barked at Hamish.

“But –” Hamish protested, getting ready to walk towards the fighting vampire and shifter.

Agatha grabbed him by the jacket, lifting him a foot off the ground. “If you want to die then stay and try to help him, but if you’re hoping to get through this night, follow me.”

Then, without much of a warning, she let him go, and took off in a sprint towards the forest. She had no intention of getting into a fight with the jaguar. She had engaged Emerson in conversation in hopes of causing one of her companions to snap and attack the young wolf, and since Philip had done just that, she was now going to make her escape. They had killed enough muggles, and the cowardly Death Eaters would be able to back up their decision to retreat.

Philip put up a bigger fight than Cormac had. He was larger than the first vampire, having clearly engaged in manual labor during his time as a mortal, and his large biceps, coupled with his strong grasp were enough to give Emerson a run for her money. She fought against him, struggling to get out from beneath when he pinned her to the ground, and crying out in anguish when his fangs penetrated her body, but she didn’t give up the fight, she thrashed with everything she had, she looked for the opportunity and when it came, she snapped off one of his arms, then the other, until finally leaving him struggling on the ground.

With her other victims, she hadn’t the opportunity to look them in the eyes before she killed them, with those, she had been far too enraged to notice the humanity that returned in their last few seconds on earth, but with Philip, she pulled away long enough to see fear, but not a grown mans fear, not the fear of a vampire that had walked the earth as long as he had, it was the fear of a child, an innocent youth who feared the dark. The emotion was so overwhelming that for a moment, she questioned as to whether or not she was doing the right thing. Was this man truly as evil as she imagined? Could there be no hope for reform for him? She’d met vampires that lived off animal blood. Perhaps he could do the same. Perhaps . . . But before her conscience had got the best of her, he sent a kick to her underbelly, and knocked her backwards, that kick brought back the predator within, and in a question of mere seconds, his entire being had been dismantled.

Knowing very well that the muggles needed help, she apparated back to the cave where she had stashed her wand and a change of clothes. After getting dressed quickly, she then made the journey to the Burrow, where everyone was fast asleep. She pounded on the door, not remembering that it was well after four in the morning, and after standing outside for a few minutes, the light went on in the kitchen.

“Who’s there?” spoke Arthur, his voice much more commanding than she’d ever heard it.

“Emerson, Sir.”

“Emerson, who?” he asked. It was all part of protocol.

“Emerson Marie Figueroa, the shifter who hates her middle name, the shifter whom your eldest son is determined to refer to only by her middle name.”

“And where in question does my eldest live?”

She stepped closer to the door. “Shell Cottage, Mr. Weasley.”

Satisfied with her responses, he cautiously opened the back door and ushered her in. He bolted it shut, making sure to place all the standard locks along with the magical protective enchantments, and when he turned to face her, he suddenly became aware of the dreadful state she was in. Her arms and neck were covered with bites. The vampires blood when mixed with hers, created a tarlike solution, so there was a thick black substance covering her wounds. Her entire body and face were covered with mud and human blood, she looked like she’d stepped out of a horror film, and Arthur wasted no time in rushing out for Molly.

“Molly!” he cried, running into the living room. “Molly, come quick!” he shouted.

“What is it?” she inquired from the top of the stairs, dressed in her thick winter nightgown as she clutched her wand. “Everything alright down there?” she bellowed.

“Yes, well no, not really.” He replied. “It’s Emery! She’s all bloodied up, and needs looking after!”

“I’ll be down in a bit. Let me get the healing kit.” Molly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Have you offered her a cup of tea?”

“Not yet. I came to fetch you as soon as I –”

“What are you doing standing about then? Go offer her a cup of tea! Get the one from the teal bin. It’ll do her nerves well!”

Arthur ran back into the kitchen. “I'm dreadfully sorry, Emerson. I’d completely forgotten to ask if you’d like a bit of tea. You do? Don’t you? What am I saying? Of course you do! Ah, please, do sit. Right there is fine, let me put the kettle on and then we’ll sort you out.” He quickly filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. “How are you, Emerson? What happened out there?”

“I . . .” her voice was hoarse. “I ran into vampires.”

“You sound ragged, let me fetch you a glass of water.” He grabbed a cup from a cupboard and poured water into it from the pitcher. “There you are, drink up, Emerson.”

She did as she was told. “Thank you, Sir.” She wiped her lips with the back of her arm, and took a minute to compose herself. “As I was saying, I ran into vampires. Well, not just vampires, vampires and Death Eaters.”

“Death Eaters?” he repeated, questioningly. “You mean to say they were working together?”

“That’s exactly what I'm saying.” She paused. “I came across them by accident. I was out on a run, and I caught their scent. As soon as I smelled it, I had no choice in the matter, I had to seek them out, and so I ran until I came across a muggle village that they were attacking. The Death Eaters took off right away, didn’t bother trying to confront me. The vampires did. I managed to kill three, but two escaped and there were some muggle fatalities.”

“Merlin’s beard . . .” he covered his eyes. “This can’t be. Oh. This can’t be. We knew he was recruiting dark creatures, but . . . but we hadn’t heard that he was actually putting them to use, at least not any creature other than Fenrir.” He slowly uncovered his eyes, lifting his head to a normal position. “I’ll contact Kingsley. He’ll know where to go from here. I just need to know the name of the town.”

“I didn’t catch it.” Emerson mentally scolded herself. “But I’ll apparate us there.”

“You’re in no condition to be apparating anywhere. Stay and rest.”

“If I don’t go, you won’t know where it is.” Emerson stood up, her body protesting against the movement. “Let’s just go right now, Mr. Weasley.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Molly stepped into the kitchen, carrying the healer’s kit. “Sit back down. I need to have a look at you.”

“Vampires attacked a muggle village, Molly.” Arthur informed her. “There were Death Eaters with them. Emerson managed to do away with some of them, but a few escaped and there were muggle casualties so we really must be on our way.”

“Look at the state she’s in! She looks like she’ll faint at any moment. Oh, I won’t let her go. I won’t!”

“Those muggles can’t defend themselves. What if the vampires go back? And even if they didn’t, they’re gonna need to have their memories altered. I need to go.” Emerson declared. “And I'm going, whether you approve or not.”

“Stubborn as Bill, you are.” Molly huffed. “Well off you go then, but I expect you back here in one minute. You hear me? Not a second later!”

One minute was more than enough time for Emerson to apparate her and Arthur to the muggle village, and to get them back to the Burrow. As soon as they were back, Arthur went upstairs to get dressed to visit his fellow Order members, and Molly immediately began to fuss over Emerson.

“Did they throw any curses?” questioned Molly.

Emerson shook her head. “The Death Eaters left as soon as I showed up. It was just vampires that I had to deal with.”

“Did they do this to you then? The black substance, that is.”

“We did it to each other.” Emerson explained. “We’re poisonous to each other, so when they bit me, by blood reacted by turning into that to keep their venom from doing any real damage. And in theory, when I bite them, their venom will do the same.” She took in a sharp breath when Molly began to clean her wounds. “Fuck!” she hissed.

“Did that hurt?” Molly was so taken aback by the look of pain on Emerson’s face that she forgot to scold her for cursing. “I thought you healed quickly.”

“Not with vampire bites,” she said through gritted teeth. “I think . . . I need other help for this.”

“I’ll fetch help for you.”

“You’re gonna have enough to deal with, people are gonna start getting here and it’ll just be an imposition.”

“You are to stay here.” Molly declared in a deathly serious tone.

Any other time, that tone would’ve been enough to make Emerson stay, but she knew she wasn’t going to be at her best, her blood had done a good job at fighting off the venom, but some had managed to make its way into her system and she was going to be ill for several days. It was best to be somewhere that she’d be free to make a scene, so after arguing with Molly for a bit longer, she apparate to her grandparent’s home.

It was well past eleven at night when she showed up at their home in Mexico. They were already fast asleep in their beds, but when they heard the knocking at the door, Pedro immediately grabbed his wand and made his way downstairs. Sophia followed closely behind, determined to be there in case he were to need help, but when they peaked through the window, they didn’t see an intruder, they saw their granddaughter lying on the porch.

The moonlight illuminated her figure, making her injuries visible to her grandparents. Sophia levitated Emerson to her bedroom upstairs, while Pedro rounded up his potions and draughts. He had never seen those injuries before, but after his grandchildren had phased, he gathered all the information he could on shifters and began preparing potions and anything else that might help them, just to keep handy in case something were to ever happen to them. And now he was glad that he had gone through the trouble of brewing them, he only hoped that they would work. His creations were always true to the descriptions in the texts, but he still feared that their might be something off about them.

In silence they dressed her wounds, careful to clean each out thoroughly, and her unconscious state aided them greatly, for had she been awake, she would’ve complained the entire time. With her clean, her grandmother levitated her into the bathtub, where she scrubbed her body clean, and after having dried and dressed her, she returned Emerson to the bedroom, where Pedro had already pulled out the potions and spreads that he would need. He carefully placed a thick spread over each bite, it was meant to draw out the venom and help with the healing process. He had a potion to help with the fever that had overtaken her, and a draught that would draw out the venom sooner. It would make her throw up like mad, but it was necessary. He didn’t want her to suffer more than she absolutely had to.

According to the books he’d read and the legends he’d consulted, she was about to undergo a physical pain that was thought to be worse than that of her first transformation. He remembered how she’d described the pain that consumed her for the week preceding her first shifting, the fever, the sensation that her bones were breaking and being forced back together. He hoped that the pain wouldn’t be to that degree, but he knew that since it was vampire venom, it would undoubtedly weaken her body and torment her. Their scent was enough to take her to the brink of insanity, their venom would be worse. Her body had to fight the venom, purge itself of it, and for the first time since she’d turn, her recovery wouldn’t be a question of minute or hours, it would be a question of days, even weeks. She’d be confined to a bed, forced to rest while war raged on in the UK.

When Pedro finished tending to his granddaughters injuries, he quietly told Sophia that he was going to slip out for a few minutes to write a quick note to Bill. He didn’t want the young man worrying more than he had to, and if he was to be completely honest, he wanted the foreign wizard to apparate to Mexico and spend time at Emerson’s side. So in English, he wrote down a few hurried lines and then sent out his trusted owl.

The enchanted owl covered the distance in a few hours time, and when it arrived at the Burrow, Bill was in the middle of asking his mother where it was that Emerson had run off to. He tried his best to not seem to desperate, out of fear of giving himself away, but knowing that Emerson wasn’t there and that she’d been the one to come across vampires, made him sick to his stomach.

“She had to tell you where she went off to.” Bill followed his mother into the kitchen. “Mum, please, tell me where she’s run off to.”

“I already told you, she didn’t say.” Molly stopped walking.

“What do you mean she didn’t say?”

“She didn’t say!” snapped Molly. “All she said was that she needed other help. I told her that I’d fetch it for her, but she was as stubborn as you are, and apparated off to Merlin knows where. Honestly William, if I knew where she was, I’d have told you the minute you got here. Now leave me be. I’ve a living room full of people that need feeding.”

It was at that moment that a tap came from the window that looked out into the garden. Bill cautiously made his way towards it, watching the creature with curious eyes, and when his eyes landed on the note, he noticed his name. He immediately threw open the window, allowing the owl to fly right in and make itself at home on the kitchen table.

“Who sent you?” asked Bill in a soft voice as he approached it. “I’ve not seen you before.”

The owl flew onto Bill’s outstretched hand. Bill gently rubbed the top of the owls head before taking the note into his position. He quickly tore it open, and as soon as he read that Emerson was being looked after in Mexico, he began making plans to leave.

“Who’s that from?” questioned Molly.

“It’s from Marie’s granddad.” He responded. “He says she’s out of danger. He’s soon to her wounds and all that, but I reckon I should check in on her, make sure she’s alright and all that.”

“You should. I’d go with you, but I’ve them to see to.”

“S’alright, I’ll tell her that you’re thinking of her.”

“And tell her grandfather that as soon as she’s fit to travel, I’d like him to bring her here.”

“You sure about that?” asked Bill.

“Of course I am.” Molly was offended by his question. “She’s a part of the Order, and of this family, I’ll see to her.”

“But her mum and dad are going to –”

“They can come to stay if they like, but the Order looks after each other. There’s no changing that. Off you go now. Go tell Fleur what’s going on.”

He hadn’t even thought of Fleur. His mind had been so consumed with getting to Emerson that he’d forgotten his wife, and with her in his memory, he rushed off to the living room where she was sitting beside her brother. In a quiet voice, he told her about the note and his desire to go see that his friend was being properly looked after. She told him that she’d go with him, be there for support, but he reminded her that her brother was there. Fleur argued that Marceau could come along, he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way, but after Bill reminded her of the complicated history that Emerson and Marceau had, Fleur caved and let him go on his own.

By the time Bill arrived, Emerson’s family was already there. Her mother was inside the room with her, while her father sat in the living room in the company of his parents and son. Bill was well received by Everett and Emerson’s grandparents, but her father didn’t even acknowledge him, he was far too lost in his thoughts, and when he walked into the room where she was sleeping, he was nearly attacked by Eleanor.

“This is your bloody fault!” cried Eleanor, eyes filled with tears. “If it weren’t for you, she’d have no business in that cursed land!”

“Don’t listen to my mom. She doesn’t mean any of that. She’s just upset. Isn’t that right, mom?” asked Everett, hoping she’d go along with it.

“No.” She fiercely declared. “It’s his fault your sister’s like this. Just look at her!” she yelled at Bill. “She looks like she’s been in a car accident. That’s not normal, not for them. They get better in a matter of minutes, but it’s been hours and she’s still like that . . .” she burst into tears, crying hysterically.

At the sound of his wife crying, Samuel abandoned his place on the couch and ran towards the room. He instinctively took her into his arms, and led her outside, knowing very well that she needed time to cool off and a bit of fresh air.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Everett told Bill after his parents left. “This isn’t your fault. It’s just . . . shit happens. You know? But she’ll be alright. This won’t kill her.”

“That’s not a comfort,” whispered Bill. “Not when she’s like this.”

“In a few days, she’ll be better.”

“But that’s not how you lot work. Your mum’s right about it only taking minutes for you to get better, and look at her, she looks like she’s just been hurt and I . . . it’s my fault. I know it is. You know it is. Your mum definitely knows it is.”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s not your fault. Shit happens. Get that through your thick head. Okay? This was a fucked up event, but she belongs in England. Wherever you are is where she’s supposed to be. So stop the fucking pity party, and man the fuck up and take care of my sister. You can feel sorry for yourself when you’re at your own house.” Everett patted Bill on the back, and then left.

As soon as Bill heard the door close behind him, he walked over to the chair beside the bed. His eyes were firmly fixed on Emerson the entire time, hoping that she would suddenly wake up and they’d get to talk, but she was fast asleep.

“I'm so sorry.” He whispered, voice swelling with emotion. “Your brother says to man up, but I don’t think I'm capable of it. It’s not time to be a macho. Not when you’re . . . not when you’re like this.” His breathing grew ragged, the tears began to fall. “What happened, Marie? What did they do to you? You’re not one for being beaten, always fighting, you are, but those bastards got to you. And I want to get to them. I want to destroy them. But I can’t. Can I? I'm just Bill, the bloke that can’t protect his heart. I can’t keep you safe and it kills me to know that I’ll never be able to protect you. It’s not right. Blokes are meant to be the strong ones, that’s the way it’s meant to be, but I can’t, because I'm just me and you’re a shifter.” He took her hand in his. “But I promise you this; I’ll make sure you get better from this. I’ll look after you, make sure you take your meals and have your medicine on time. I may not be able to take down a vampire, but I’ll take care of you, because you can’t leave me here, we’ve a life to live together. And it’s not yet started, not really, so you’ll just have to stick it out with me. You have to.”