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Hera Syndulla was a good police captain. Kallus didn’t need to believe that blindly; he saw it manifested every day. She was cool, competent, level-headed, and sincere. She genuinely cared for her duties, and she always performed admirably. Kallus respected her. He truly did. In the number of years they’d worked together, a bond of mutual trust had been established. Captain Syndulla wasn’t just experienced, she was intelligent as well. If ever there was something she desired to know, she’d get to the bottom of it quickly. There were few people who could hoodwink Hera. In fact, Kallus had almost believed that no one could at all.
Then Kanan Jarrus entered the picture.
Kallus hadn’t realized how complex Hera could be until Jarrus reappeared in her life. There wasn’t much notably different about her behavior, but Kallus didn’t get paid to sit around and look pretty all day. He could see a softness to Hera when she was with her love. He could see the joy that man brought her: the warmth and light. Jarrus didn’t make Hera any more kind, any more brave, or intelligent, or lovely. In fact, his contributions were difficult to quantify. Jarrus gave Hera dimension, like he’d unlocked a whole new facet of her being. Kanan made Hera more human.
Ironic, considering there was something very inhuman about that man. Kallus didn’t know what it was. He wasn’t an expert, after all. But after months observing their interactions and bumping into Kanan outside of work, there were things he’d begun to notice. Things for which there was no human explanation. And Kallus wasn’t the type to so readily embrace new realities but he was a detective worth his weight in spotchka. He could read the signs.
It was partly why he hadn’t interfered with Kanan and Hera’s fraternization in the past. He knew how madly in love Jarrus was, that he loved Hera more than she loved him. Kallus knew Kanan was a good man, knew he’d sooner die than hurt her, knew he knew the boundaries and lines drawn not just by Hera herself, but also by circumstance. There were certain lengths Hera simply couldn’t go to because of her high station in law enforcement, and Jarrus was perfectly respectful of that every time, without fail. So Kallus let him be. Human or not, he clearly wasn’t a problem.
Hera, on the other hand, seemed utterly clueless to the shift in nature. Kallus scratched his head at it often. Hadn’t Hera raced through all her promotions by being an incredibly sharp detective? Why was she blind to all these clues? It couldn’t be love clouding her view. She knew better than to let that happen. So then why ignore the signs? Was she afraid to admit that their city was plagued by supernatural forces? Maybe she’d had a close brush with them in the past, and had stubbornly decided to deny their existence indefinitely. That sounded pretty in character for her. At the very least, she couldn’t be pretending for the sake of avoiding hysteria, like Kallus’ chosen approach; there wasn’t much she could hide from him after their years of partnership. No, Hera was being willfully ignorant. Kallus wondered whether she even knew about Jarrus.
In any case, it was none of Kallus’ business the nature of Kanan and Hera’s relationship, so long as it didn’t prove dangerous or interfere with work. And it hadn’t, thus far. But Hera’s stupidity was getting to be obtuse.
Kallus wasn’t sure the extent to which he believed in this supernatural business. Clearly there was an element of it floating around his world, but he hadn’t considered full-on werewolves and such until Hera made a fool of herself one night on patrol.
They’d decided to take one car. It was a longer shift, and they’d just gotten dinner from their favorite Chinese takeout, stopping to eat on the bend of their route at the edge of the woods. The summer air was warm. They’d cranked the windows down. Though the animal attacks seemed to have totally dried up, Kallus remained alert while he ate, unwilling to be caught off guard when so many past victims happened to be officers. That was how he noticed the wolf.
At first, it was just a subtle presence, then the hair on his neck stood up. He could feel eyes. A predator was watching them.
“Captain,”
She realized immediately, sparing him a glance as she stowed her chopsticks and noodles in the extra cup holder. Her hand hovered on the window triggers in silent conference. Kallus shook his head. They had a better chance of sensing the creature with the windows down, and a better shot of fighting back if it attacked. He pulled his gun from its holster, made sure it was primed.
But then something odd happened. Just in front of their car, the brush rustled loudly: not the mannerism of a beast on the hunt. Out into the beam of their headlights stepped the largest wolf Kallus had ever seen. He blinked at it in utter surprise.
The creature was impressive, sleek and strong, long-limbed and striking. Its fur had markings like no ordinary wolf. The thick fur contrasted in light and dark greys, and if Kallus didn’t know better… he’d say its eyes were glowing. They were an impossible color. No wild wolf could possibly have eyes that color. Kallus had only ever seen that color in a pair of eyes once before—which wasn’t exactly damning evidence, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised either way.
Hera however, seemed totally oblivious. Her reaction actually shocked Kallus more.
“Oh,” She relaxed immediately, even going so far as to don a small smile. “Don’t worry. I know this wolf.” Then she holstered her weapon and unlocked her door.
“Captain, you can’t be serious.”
Kallus found himself stoutly ignored, and he took offense. Hadn’t he specifically requested they omit the dumb juice from Hera’s order? How had she managed to act a fool without it? Only Kanan managed to make her so soft in the face of such obvious danger. And yet, she so clearly had no clue. It had taken Kallus a whole minute to reach his conclusion and Hera still refused to see the truth, even after knowing Jarrus for years. What an idiot.
“It’s alright, Kallus. He probably just wants to say hi. You remember him, don’t you?”
Kriff. Now that he thought about it, yes. Hera had sent him lots of pictures after that incident with her vehicle some weeks ago. It— he —looked much more striking in person.
“You are aware you’re approaching a wild animal,” Kallus confirmed as Hera stepped out of the car.
“Yes, but this one’s my friend.”
Ugh. Kallus couldn’t believe his ears. Or his eyes. The wolf perked up on seeing the captain, trotting forward with a light bounce in his steps. He was wagging his tail. Loth wolves were never so friendly with people.
Yes, the clues were adding up. Either this wolf was a dog hybrid, or it was Kanan Jarrus himself. Kallus tried to reject the latter proposal. It shouldn’t be possible, and it certainly wasn’t reasonable. Kallus was a man of reason. He’d never believed in such fairytale nonsense before. Magic couldn’t be real. Myths and folklore were simply well-aged embellishments. Nevertheless, the longer he pondered it, the more he could only concede just how much sense it made. Kallus only wished he could feel more shocked at the revelation. But no luck. Kanan Jarrus had never been a subtle man.
Kallus leaned out his window and pointed the gun at Kanan. He knew the threat was unnecessary, but he’d like to have made an effort, especially with so many prospective uncertainties in this newly unveiled world of magic. If Kanan was as good a man as he seemed, he’d appreciate the gesture.
“You there,”
Hera gasped and sharply ordered him to stand down, but Kallus ignored her. Kanan didn’t look too concerned, in any case. Solid fellow.
“You hurt her, I shoot. Understand?”
The wolf lifted his head a fraction, blinked slowly, wagged his tail twice. Yes. Kallus would accept that.