The gate to the cathedral was locked.

Melody bit back a curse as she shook the gate uselessly. There had to be a way in. There was always a way in. If you couldn't find one, you could always make one. She pressed herself against the gate, trying to get a better view of what was inside.

Or... lack of what.

There was no smoke from any fire. There was no screaming. There was no crying from a baby. It was silent and still

...this felt like a trap.

But for who? Melody pushed herself away from the gate before she could consider this too much. There was another path, leading to the side of the large church. She followed that, loading Alexi with the spare shotgun shells she had found as she went. Eventually, the path led to a small, worn-down building that looked like a gatehouse. Was there a backway through here?

The inside of the gatehouse looked untouched by the werewolf-caused devastation. The erosion and wear up the small set of stairs and into the room just looked like it was caused by time. Baskets of fruits and vegetables were stacked up in the corner next to casks while a wine holder took up a wall. More importantly, there was an elevator.

Melody headed for the buttons. Before she could press the up button, there was a chuckle.

"Well, isn't this a surprise!" She whirled around, shotgun raised defensively, raising a brow as the metal within the room started to float, scattering around the room. The next second, Alexi abandoned her hands, followed by her handgun and Swiss Army knife. The traitors. "I didn't know anyone was still alive!"

Finally, she turned her eyes to the male voice.

A tall man, dressed like a wannabe van Helsing, strolled from a small side door she hadn't noticed like he owned the place. Silver hair was tied back, dark sunglasses reflecting the light of the cigar he was smoking. He dropped the cigar and snuffed it out with steel-toed boots, smirking at her. "You must be pretty tough, outsider."

"Who the fuck are you?" she asked, a bit too off guard to do a proper friend or foe analysis. Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors?

He chuckled. "Nothing for you to worry about. Anymore." And then he was snapping his fingers.

And then something, too fast to get a proper view, buried itself in her liver.

Foe. Definitely foe-

Melody screeched in pain, gasping for breath as she looked down. The knife in her Swiss Army knife winked up at her. The traitor!

And that was when it clicked. The man, he was the one to cause this strange anti-gravity of only metal things. Usually, Melody would think that was cool as hell. Right now, he's used it to stab her so she's going to push that away.

"Mother is going to love you." Before she could ask, all the metal in the room started soaring in her direction. Shit.

In a burst of reckless fury, ignoring the knife currently in her stomach, ignoring the inner Sam voice in her mind screaming at her for being reckless and Ivy screaming "What the fuck Mommy?!", Melody charged. He couldn't grab her if she was moving. He certainly couldn't if she was tackling him unless he wanted to grab himself too, which Melody would accept surrender at that.

It was an idea caused by boldness and probably a bit of insanity, but it worked. Their bodies slammed into each other. The man went down cursing, grabbing the collar of her coat so she followed him down. They slammed into a basket of apples, sending the fruit scattering around. The metal encasing her body fell off and she pushed herself away, knocking her elbow into his face for good measure.

With another gasp, bloody fingers slipping on the metal, she yanked out her pocket knife. She ignored the blood spurt and moved to stab the man. Except the man glared and the knife rethought, burying itself in the wall instead. At least it hadn't gone through her hand this time. She didn't need reopening of that particular trauma, thank you very much.

Melody desperately grasped at the knife, trying to pull it out. A growl made her glance back.

"Tough, but not very smart." the man said, scooping up his glasses where they had fallen during their struggle. His hat had disappeared as well, although he didn't seem as concerned by that. He frowned at something on the sunglasses, turning grey eyes to her. She pushed away, the fact that she knew those eyes, somewhere and somehow, when the man stood. He held up his glasses, revealing a massive crack in one of the lenses. "Now you've gone and made it personal."

"Screw you," Melody said, all she was able to muster at that moment. She finally yanked out the pocketknife.

Which proceeded to head straight for her other hand. Melody yelped, barely managing to move her hand so the blade instead pinned her through her sleeve.

And then the man was there, grabbing her throat and forcing her head back hard enough to make her head slam back against the wall. It was hard enough to send dark spots through her vision. The firm grip moved up and she forced herself to ignore the possible concussion to rise up on tiptoes before he could snap her neck.

She managed out a breath. The grip tightened and Melody felt the air stop coming through. She blindly clawed at the leather-gloved hand with her free hand, aiming pleading amber eyes at the man. Finally, he released her throat.

Melody fell back on her feet with a gasp, lungs burning with the effort and dark hair limp with sweat. A hand gripped her chin and forced her to meet the man's gaze. "Well, look at you," the man said, tone thick with something she could almost call admiration, his other hand gripping her elbow to help prop her up. "You're still kicking?"

Reminded by the fact that she did have legs, Melody kicked.

She couldn't get her knee up to hit him in the stomach.

She could, however, get him in the groin.

The satisfying grunt was rewarding. However, a better reward would've been if he had released her so she could yank out the knife and make a run with it. Instead, the grip turned bruising. A dry chuckle escaped the man. "Well, aren't you a charming fireball?" he said. "Almost makes me want to let bygones be bygones."

"Bygones be –? You attacked me first-!"

Once again, something burying herself in her liver shut her up. Melody gasped for air, glancing down to see a metal pipe, much bigger than her pocket knife, dig into the old wound. Much worse, the man's foot stomped on hers- a warning against kneeing him again.

"As I was saying," the man said, not seeming to notice her distress. "Almost. Not only did you go and steal my thunder-" Oh goody, he was a dramatic hoe. Jonas Smith would love this guy. Or get annoyed and try to kill him. "Which I do not appreciate. Even worse, you break my shit. But you don't know who you're dealing with, which I'll give you a pass on. Better yet, you're the final girl in this scene. But, unfortunately, it's not up to me." He yanked her forward, ignoring the rip of her sleeve as he wrapped an arm around her. "Around here, Mother Supreme Bitch is the judge, jury, and executioner. So, even if I wanted to let you go, your fate is still in her hands, newbie." A wolfish grin lit up his face as he leaned closer. "But who knows, maybe you'll be lucky, maybe she'll give you to me for being the one to hand Melody Johnson over to her."

She couldn't even muster the brainpower to question how he knew her name.

All she heard was executioner.

No. No. No. Cecily. Cecily, Cecily, Cecily-

A burst of fury-fed fear shot through her veins and the adrenaline kicked in. She lunged forward.

His neck was closest. And Melody found herself not opposed to biting a man's throat out if it means she lives to get her niece out. Her teeth dug hard into the exposed length and she desperately gripped. A yelp shot out of the man and he pushed her away.

Melody released his throat as she stumbled back into the wall. Now that there was room, she grabbed the pipe and yanked it out, bloody fingers slipping on the metal. With that dealt with, she clenched her jaw and glared, ready for a fight.

Except there wasn't. The man was backing away with wide, surprised eyes. His back hit the supplies and he gripped the nearest basket, his other hand gripping where she had bitten him. Melody raised a brow. She couldn't have bitten him that hard. There would be more blood if she hit an artery or something.

"You bit me."

His tone was thick with accusation. Melody huffed, glancing down at where the pipe had been lodged. "Wanna trade?" she offered.

The man tensed, all arrogance fading as he bent over, the hand on his neck moving to his nose. He gripped the basket like it was the only thing keeping him upward. She raised a brow. Somehow, she felt like something she didn't understand had just occurred. Which should be the summary of her life so far.

His eyes were shut. Melody took advantage and stepped towards her handgun, the closest weapon. A growl made her freeze like a deer in headlights. Those grey eyes were filled with fury and once again she was hit with the fact that she knew those eyes. "Don't," he warned.

"Bite me, asshole," she countered in compulsion.

Before she could mentally high-five herself for the brilliant retaliation, a growl escaped the man. Actual growling. In the dim light of the gatehouse, the animalistic motion revealed a beautiful set of sharp, elongated canines. Her stomach dropped.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Oh, fuck everything.

Melody should not have been making a habit of pissing people off who wanted to kill her. Because usually, those people had secret monster sides, like being a giant spider. Or a giant treefrog thing. Or a giant rock golem. Or, in this case, a werewolf. Because that was just how her life had gone.

"Don't. Move." The man was breathing in and out heavily like he was fighting something.

She considered her options. All her weapons were scattered about the place, like everything metal in the room once it had dropped. The elevator would take too long to operate and she couldn't risk the idea that she would be going from the frying pan into the fire like she currently was. That just left reasoning with the man.

The man looked different than the rest of the werewolves. They were savage, dead-looking. This man could speak. He looked alive, color flushing his skin. His eyes were still filled with soul. All showing signs of life. But he was also currently growling up a storm.

So that left the other, other option.

Melody ran.

There was a loud swear as she jumped down the stairs, barely avoiding tripping over them. The crisp air stung her cheeks as her snow boots went pounding down the path. There was nothing but silence.

An ear-splitting roar broke it.

Melody ran faster, mind racing. Wolves were coursing predators who enjoyed chasing their prey until the opportunity to attack. Running had been the worse idea ever. But if she can hide, lose him, do anything but stay out in the open, she'll be safe. Or as safe as she can be here.

She bolted past a few werewolves, kicking up dust as she went. She entered the village and swore. Everything was in ruins. No way to bar herself in. Her chest flared with anxiety and Melody bit back another swore. She could deal with the hole in her gut when she figured out what to do.

She didn't know what to do. She was unarmed and injured with no way out- how the hell was she supposed to do this?! Distantly, Melody recognized the signs of blood-loss-related confusion, but it was overtaken by her panic. That also overpowered the fact that she shouldn't have been able to move at this point, but she had bigger things to focus on. Like not ending up dead.

Her hazy mind tried to work out a plan of escape. Maybe there was another way into the cathedral?

She hit the square when the realization came in. She was fucked.

Melody flattened herself against the large statue in the center as werewolves poured in from either side, just like before. Her heart sank as they took up every space, leaving at least a little circle. The dome of the cathedral loomed overhead, staring her down coldly like it was pulling up some rescue rope without her.

How much better would it be in there anyway? Silver didn't affect real werewolves and that was kinda funny, realizing werewolves were just casually walking around-

Melody, now is not the time.

There was more than she could count, all eyeing her with ravenous glee. Her heart was already fast from her run, but it increased even further at this pack, all waiting for the Melody Johnson Buffet. Fear was good, Sam had told her when she was starting therapy. It kept you alive. But right now it was not helpful when they seemed to get even more excited at the signs of her fear.

A slash of claws was her warning that she had strayed too close and Melody scrambled back.

Then a werewolf- much smaller than the others- bounced forward, clearly ready to kill her. In memory muscle of her training, Melody dodged, driving her elbow into its stomach. The werewolf soared over her with a confused howl before slamming into the statue.

Another ran forward before receiving the same treatment.

It was like that one-one fight earlier, she realized. The third one received a boot to the face when she side-stepped, kicking it back into the crowd. There were snarls and gnashes of teeth as Melody steadied herself, panting for air. She was running out of energy and adrenaline. She turned her eyes back to the crowd, waiting for her fourth opponent.

The next attack came from behind.

The first werewolf had gotten back up, wielding a sword from somewhere. That had to be breaking the rules but Melody got the feeling that it didn't care. Instead, it was jabbing and slashing at her without care. She moved back as best she could, fear reaching new levels as she tried to stay out of reach.

Then she slipped.

Melody hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her. "Wait," she wheezed out as she tried to sit up, back propped against the statue.

It didn't so much as slow down.

It lunged. She screamed. There was a gleeful howl.

And then suddenly blood was splattering over her.

It took a moment. But the blood didn't belong to her. Melody cracked an eye open as a yowl cut off into dead silence.

The werewolves were cowering. Another sword had gone right through the lunging werewolf's head, leaving it dead on the ground. She froze when she saw the man, glaring down at the crowd. Metal was floating again, creating almost a halo around him. His lack of weapon suddenly made sense.

When you could manipulate almost everything around you, the world became your weapon.

Melody pushed herself harder against the statue.

"Anyone else?!" the man yelled, eyes hard as steel. The crowd whined in answer. "No? Then back!" Gripping his hand, the sword skewering the werewolf floated up. "I said back!" He threw the corpse into the crowd, which did wonders to disperse the crowd, yips and whines rolling through the air as they scattered. As they did, Melody found herself relaxing with relief, although she had no idea why this man would save her.

Except that was optimistic, it turned out.

The man whirled around, aiming that steel gaze on her. They were wild, filled with predatory possessiveness. Shit, that hadn't been him protecting her.

That was him saving the prey for himself.

Before Melody could stand, he was suddenly there, straddling her as he gripped her wrists and held them still. Her mind whirled, trying to figure out what to do. Options were limited.

She couldn't...she couldn't...

The fear overwhelmed her. "Please," she gasped, feeling tears prick at her eyes. "Please, I just want to find my niece-" She tried to kick our, but their position and the lack of energy prevented her from doing so.

His nose pressed against her neck. Melody froze as she felt goosebumps form. He was going to rip her throat out. As revenge for her own attempt. Even worse, he was playing with his food.

A hand wrapped around her braid and yanked, forcing her head back for better access. She jolted as his nose was replaced by the scratch of a beard and the tips of those wicked fangs. She couldn't take it.

"Please-"

And, much to her surprise, the plea worked. He stopped. The fingers entwined in her braid loosened.

Then something wet pressed against her neck.

Did... Did werewolves lick you before they kill you? Was that a thing? Sampling the prey or whatever? Melody wasn't sure. The instantaneous relief at not being dead had broken her brain, leaving her unable to notice the tongue gently pressing her skin or the warm body on top of hers. Even as said warm body was carefully avoiding her stab wound.

Even though the asshole had put it there-

The returning prick of canines was her only warning. Then came the pain. Melody cried out, her shoulders shaking with renewed struggle. Her eyes went wide as something wet rolled down her neck and shit there was blood-

But he didn't rip her throat out.

He pulled away, a bit of blood smeared on his mouth. He seemed to admire his work before returning his face to her neck to lap at the bite mark, cleaning up the blood spill. But Melody couldn't focus on that.

Everything suddenly felt warm. Too warm. And was it just her or was the world spinning? Her head thumped back, blank eyes staring at grey clouds, as slow breaths escaped her.

Her vision tunneled into darkness.

Hey, isn't a werewolf bite supposed to be bad...?