Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Changes ❯ Drift Madly to You... ( Chapter 5 )

Author's Notes: Plot twist! o^.^o

Changes

Chapter Five: Drift Madly To You

Never ask a demon wolf anything. They won't listen.

Tristan headed into the drainpipe, alright, but he kept going further into the sewers. What did he need friends for? He just needed himself, no one else.

Especially not that kid with the silver switchblade.

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Joey sat with his hand supporting his chin, thinking hard. How could they help Tristan when they didn't even know where to start? He hated his habit of making promises that were very hard to keep.

"A silver bullet?" Yugi suggested.

"We don't wanna kill 'im! Just cure 'im or somethin'..."

"Um..."

"My thoughts exactly." The blonde sighed. Werewolves were more complicated than he thought....

"Who wants the couch bed?" Téa called from the living room. No citizens were allowed outside after dark so Téa, Bakura, and Joey had to stay at Yugi's for the night. Bakura quickly called for the couch bed and Joey pouted a little. Darn that British...um, twit! Yeah, that's a good insult...

"Yug', do you have any ideas? I mean, you are the big magic expert, right?" Joey queried the shorter boy. He looked away with a flush of guilt.

"Um...I don't really know....My grampa might have a book that could, though! He has a lot of interesting books on magic and stuff!" he exclaimed, his violet eyes bright. They ran to the bookcase to see Téa and Bakura already scanning the titles. Joey tried to sneak over to the couch bed, but Bakura spotted him out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't even think about it."

"Right..."

They continued to look when a thought struck Bakura.

"Does your darker side have any ideas?" he asked Yugi, and the small boy paused. He stared off into space for a moment before answering.

"He says there were no werewolves in Egypt. Not that he knew of, anyway."

"It was worth a shot..."

/I thought the pharaoh knew everything about his kingdom./

//I seriously doubt there were werewolves in Egypt, Yugi. I heard stories about them from the north, but never from Egypt.//

/How far north?/

//France.//

/Oh. That far./

They continued to search but found nothing. Werewolves just weren't popular subject material. Joey collapsed onto his makeshift bed with a sigh. Would they ever get Tristan back?

They heard a car door slam outside and then a knock on the door. Yugi cautiously opened the door and peeked out. Seto Kaiba pushed his way through and glared, a leather bound book in the crook of his arm.

"I heard you had trouble with a werewolf, am I right? It's that Tristan kid, isn't it?" he said curtly, his last sentence more of a statement than a question. Yugi nodded and Seto set the book down on the table. The title was simply "Lycanthropy" with a silver pentagram below it.

"How'd you know it was Tristan?" Yugi inquired softly.

"Because he was bitten during the full moon by a 'large dog', stayed in the hospital for three weeks with a fever and a rapidly changing metabolism, and now he's missing with a large canine without a tail running loose in the city. I can put two and two together, you know, and I think this book may help you out a little."

"Whaddaya, stalk us or somethin'?" Joey glared at the wealthy duelist, crossing his arms over his chest. Seto smirked.

"Something like that."

He opened the book.

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The walls were damp and a sour smell was in the air, mingling with the stench of rotted leaves and flesh. A man with black hair and golden eyes sat glaring at a five pointed star tilted to one side inside a circle. The symbol was etched into the black wall without much care, just a marking of territory. And now his territory was being invaded by that younger wolf.

He had meant to kill the boy, but if he hadn't been such a fast runner this never would have happened. If he had pounced right then, if he had just....but he hadn't. And now there was competition for food.

The boy would have to die.

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Tristan found a small room-like area leading to a maze of tunnels made by Moon knows who. He didn't care. It made a nice den. He was a human now, or human in shape, and it was time for sleep. He'd been running too much and that bullet in his left arm hurt like hell. He would sleep and then he would make those humans sorry. Sorry they ever shot him. Sorry they ever saw him. Sorry they ever heard him howl.

Sorry that any of those pathetic creatures were ever his friends.

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