Speedo Down
Page 16
Once my heart slowed to somewhere between the levels of a dead heat finish at the Firecracker 400 and snatched by a rip current, I whooshed out a breath and took stock.
Crap, it’s at least forty feet to the ground.
I eyed my perch and eased along the branch until my spine connected with the tree’s trunk. Wedged and way less wobbly, I slipped my fingers into my waist sack, pulled the journal, plume, and ink, and watched at the forest surrounding my bird's-eye seat.
Silence.
To be frank, the quiet is unnerving. I’m sure Dracena didn’t sit around crocheting lap blankets, and the rest of the merry marauders are top level frightening without a witch-led assist.
An owl fluttered and landed, staring at me and the journal, then hooted once before lifting a foot in the book’s direction.
“Friend or foe?” I’d never encountered owl shifters before and had no idea what they shifted into when they didn’t feel like being a cute owl.
The owl lifted one talon.
“First option? Friend?”
A blink.
“Any clue what Dracena is cooking up for the fight?”
A blink.
“Yes?”
Another blink. On one level this was cool as hell, but of course, on another, it’s terrifying. The owl can leave, but if this tree lights up with forever fire, I’ll need options.
“Care to give me a clue?”
The owl puffed its feathers out and spread its wings wide. Impressive, for a bird that a moment before resembled an upright bread loaf.
“Size?” I guessed.
One blink.
Crud. I’m unsure if my heart can withstand the feral mojo of a regular sized shifter, let alone a supersized version. Visions of Parker’s injuries tugged at my mind, and I shoved them away.
“Anything else?”
The owl blinked, paused, then leapt at me, talons extended, just missing my eyes before circling and landing on the branch.
Coronary aside, what in Hades did it mean? Think, Patra. Attack. A wild animal. Felt ferocious.
Oh, shit.
“Did Dracena brew something to enhance their ferocity?”
If owls could smile, I’m pretty sure that’s what my new downy friend was doing. Kinda cute, and accompanied by another blink.
“Is there more?”
After giving his feathers a good shake, the owl walked across my thigh and extended a ridiculously long leg, tapped my heart, and hopped back onto the branch as I surveyed the bloody cuts. Those talons are the real deal.
“Heart. Love? Pain? Grief?”
My fluff ball buddy looked disgusted.
“Betrayal?”
A soft hoot and the owl flapped, dropping, before soaring through the trees.
Hoo boy, Drago. That bitch has your number, and I bet she crafted a brew with your name on it.
One last thing needed handling. I tapped my necklace and Chelsea landed on a branch, teetered and fell before rising with a red face and crossed arms.
“Good gods, I’m dying to hear this explanation,” Chelsea groused. “A tree, in the forest, at night, during a full moon, and sober. Stupid much? And where in Hades have you been? I was frantic!”
“I see the emotional inputs are still loading.”
“And I don’t care for them one bit.”
The tree shook with the Thundra’s roars, and Chelsea’s head swiveled.
“They’re here?”
“Yeah, I’ve been with Campe. He’s hard to refuse. Dragons fill the forest. Plus, Dracena brewed potions to both increase the feral underpinnings and the size of the shifters. Clash of the Titans, 2.0.”
“How do you know this?” Her eyes narrowed.
“A big-eyed bird told me.”
Chelsea pulled a potion from her waist sack and dripped it on my leg. The blood dried, the slices sealed, and the scars faded in twenty seconds.
“Thanks.”
She shrugged and gazed throughout the forest. “I have information for you. The mer appeared on your balcony, saying they want to fight to restore the balance.”
“Do they understand the dragons aren’t the enemies?”
“They’ve been with Ballard for the past hour, and he’s solid, Patra. He impressed Glenna, which isn’t easy. He covered both the true lore and the battle lines.”
“Well, he jumped in feet first, Chels. He’s no quitter. Can Glenna make the mer grow too?”
“Fraid not. That potion takes days to brew and doesn’t keep. You got lucky she had a batch ready the night you tangled with Gaia.”
“Then I’m thinking that going guerilla style on the Achilles’ heels might be their best tactic. Mer will die.”
“Patra, my sense is, for the first time, the mer conjoined to a greater whole. Instead of living isolated under the water, they’re engaged in a meaningful magical battle. They, erm, feel empowered.”
“Feel?”
“Shut up.”
“OK, I’m staying in this tree and recording the fight. Could you hang with me and bring Sadie here when the fighting shifts? In my gut, or could be my Vapor, I don’t think we’re supposed to engage, at least not yet.”
Chelsea popped over to the branch next to mine, relaxed against the trunk, and reached to pat my shoulder. Huh. Another roar shook the ground of the forest.
Showtime.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chelsea busied herself casting protections around the tree while bursts of fiery light pulsed through the darkest sections of the forest. A hand reached across and gripped my neck, hard, then pointed toward the ground. I glanced and froze.
The back of an enormous cat slid, in silence, past our tree’s trunk. At his shoulder, he was twenty feet tall. Not good, since that meant jumping my entire tree was a low exertion move. I slid my eyes to Chelsea. She drew a hand over her face and smiled.
Invisible. We’re not seen, thank the gods.
I tapped my ear, and she nodded, but even knowing she’d cast a silencing spell, my tongue remained frozen. The vibe rocking off the cat threatened to unleash my bowels, and in a panic, I touched my nose. She waved a complicated series of gestures. Cool. No odors, either. If there was a pants-pooping-pass, I’m taking mine today.
A series of, well rustles wasn’t the word, but the obvious motion of huge beasts filled the surrounding forest, and my heart managed every other beat as bears, thirty foot high at the shoulder, lumbered by, their musk mushing my gut into a shivering quake. Real-life images of King Kong sized bear action did little for my overwhelming desire to flee. Being forty feet in the air ended up as a good idea; as badass as I try to be, if I was on the ground I’d be a running snack, duties to the book be damned.
Fingers shaking, I opened the journal. Chelsea glanced at me and wiggled a finger. The ink pot rose and floated, steady, next to the page. I shot what I hoped resembled a grateful look, but I was too rattled to write; no Keeper could ever read tonight’s shaken entries.
A fog flowed from the left side of my chest, forming a misty human face in front of mine, then bent forward and kissed my forehead, a wispy benediction.
Holy crap.
Heart attack likelihood dropped from inevitable to non-existent. Intestines took a nap. Blood relaxed, no longer craving an out-of-body experience. The sensation of shifting from terror to peace filled me with a profound sense of place. Right timing and settled into the perfect moment.
My arm, the one furthest from Chelsea, lit with symbols, and I stared, tears welling, before gazing at the distant glows, speckling the forest in a ‘come hither’ to war.
Destiny.
Benevolence.
Death.
Birth.
My last fight. My darling child, my beloved original love, how grateful I am to have held you both, even for the fleetest of moments.
I looked at the waiting mist and nodded. “Ready,” I whispered into the swirling wind as the vapor withdrew into my body.
“Did you say something?”
I dipped the plume, blotted on my shorts and wrote, describing my conversation with the Thundra, the interaction with the owl, and the advancing shifters.
My entry faded, and another rose, penned by Parker.
Witch Glenna applied the last possible healing potion. I’ll know by tomorrow’s dawn. The mer, led by Ballard, travel to the forest to meet with the fae. The Queen’s number two, Glissande, arrived to escort. Ballard insisted on going, Patra. I tried. I’m sorry. He took a small arsenal with him. Maybe that will help.
Horrified, I gasped.
What? No! I’m dying tonight. Aegeus needs Ballard. She can’t lose us both. If we fail, Poseidon remains lost to her, too.
I leaned against the rough bark, tears flowing. Chelsea bent and wiped my face, then read the entry.
“I am so sorry, Patra. He’s brave, and doing what he sees as the right path. Humans have a stake. A sacrifice for creation’s betterment is a noble way to die. He stepped into the role to support Aegeus, but a warrior lives in his soul. Ares respects the ones lost fighting for truth.”
I flushed red and glared at her. “Ares can stuff it. This is my child, my love, and my life. Everything I cherish in my heart, them, you, and Sadie, is on the line, and I don’t give two shits whether Ares finds my sacrifice acceptable. I sure as fuck don’t.”
“Wage the war to win it, Cleopatra.” A nearby branch bent with extreme weight as Ares shimmered into view, standing and surveying the fires. “You obtained everything you need to prevail.”
He raised an eyebrow at Chelsea and one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as his bronze spear tipped feeler shot from his palm and hovered at her heartspace before landing with a single light tap. Chelsea blinked, green eyes shading to a blazing blue.
“To victory,” Ares rumbled, fading to nothing.
“Babysitting by Aegeus is available,” I said, as a gut quaking roar cut the night.
“Cool,” Chelsea nodded. “I’m going to need her.”
“Just like that?”
“His gravitas speaks to me, Patra. Hearts call, we follow. You offered to sacrifice your life for Ballard’s. The reverse is inevitable and is an immutable truth.”
I stared at her face, lit by the flickering glow from the distant dragons. The knot of grief loosened, and I sucked in air.
“Good wisdom, Chels. Thanks. I love you.”
A blasting roar cut through the night as a tree ignited, and the shadows moved in ferocity, punctuated by yowls. The cats’ offensive launched; a war begun.
“And I love you,” she replied. “We’re pawns in a movement beyond our comprehension. Nothing remains but the ending, and our efforts toward preservation.”
The fae Queen surveyed the assembly.
“Unlikely pairings, but perhaps that’s the point,” Glissande murmured.
“I see potential,” Queen Flitana answered. “Unexpected alliances can be powerful. You, human,” she pointed at Ballard, “how do you fight?”
“With these.” He lifted a gun. “It sends hot lead at high velocity. A head or heart shot kills.”
“Any protection? How do you defend against magical attack?”
“Humans have no innate defense against magicals.”
“Well, that sucks.” Flitana turned her gaze to the mer. “Your ground battle is to disable these overgrown hairballs by attacking their legs. Lots of blood and they might eat you. Still game?”
Akura glared. “Mer stand forever ready to defend their culture.”
Flitana beamed with a deceptive, cheery smile. “As do the fae. Who volunteers to work with the human?”
Owls blinked, the osprey preened, and the eagle rolled his eyes. Well, as much as an eagle can, his sentiment was obvious, translation unnecessary.
“We will,” Pook called out.
“We’re proud to help him. This human fights on the side of magicals and fairness.” Bingo added, glaring at the eagle.
Glissande shot a shrewd glance at the two and leaned into the queen’s ear.
“Interesting,” the Queen replied. “We’re decided. The pelicans fight beside the human. Owls and raptors call positions from the skies, and the mer fighters hold the ground. As you slow a shifter, the fae will end them.”
“All of them?” An owl hooted in dismay. “The races are self-determining.”
“If they self-determine to extinction, so be it,” the Queen rejoined. “We did not start this path, but we walk it without fear. Consequences matter. The beast’s war ends tonight.”
The Queen rose in a blur of wings and lifted her scepter. “To balance.”
“To balance!”
Glenna tapped Loboli, fully shifted because of the moon, on the top of his head and he woke, growling, and leapt to his feet.
“Settle your furry butt down and listen.” Glenna waved a hand in annoyance. “You’re lucky, with everything we have going on, that we had time to tend your wounds. Even luckier,” she snorted, “that bears are too dumb to differentiate between near death and dead.”
“How’d I get here?” Loboli paced, a stream of low growls filling The Boogey.
“Shush. We don’t need any distractions. This war of yours blasts fire in your beloved, hard won forest as we speak. Hope you enjoy prairie life because that’s what’ll remain.”
“Bring me up to speed.”
“You aren’t the boss here, Mayor. I don’t have to tell your ungrateful fuzzy butt squat.”
“Forgive me,” Loboli murmured. “I misspoke. The shift into feral footing still courses in my veins. I am grateful for your efforts to save me, and lie in your debt.”
“Better,” Glenna eyed him, assessing. “You are calming. Interesting. It’s a choice, so it’s possible we can use that. Tell me what happened to you.”
Loboli sat panting, and a witch brought a bowl filled with Mooncraft to him. He lapped it up, muzzle dripping on the floor, and howled.
“Better. Thank you.”
The witch nodded, and Loboli paced as he talked. “The chosen path, I knew in my gut, was a lie. I reconvened, laying the truth out; trapped in their frenzied blood, no understanding or reasoning occurred. The violent takeover of their senses offered no pathway to peaceful solutions. As is our way, my death was required. I’m amazed I lived.”
“It was close, but we’re talented.”
Loboli inclined his head in agreement. “The witch, Dracena, sought to augment the feral wildness of our blood, and brewed a second potion to increase our size ten fold. Those weapons offer a path to victory if used with cunning and tactical precision.”
Glenna snorted. “They face the entire Thundra plus a contingent of demis in a battle of far greater numbers than the original record of dragons indicates. Others rise to fight on the dragon’s side. If choosing the feral effect is a choice, Loboli, there’s a slim chance, provided you knock sense into them, that enough will survive to continue.”
Loboli paced, agitated, as a shimmer appeared at the far end of the bar.
“Witch Glenna, a word?”
Surprised, Glenna stared at Apollo, then nodded as he waved, freezing the remaining occupants.
“The time we spent was special to me, and the child made a favorite. I wish no harm to either of you. Step from this battle, and I can protect you.”
“From whom?” Glenna’s hands landed on her hips, and Apollo’s features looked uncomfortable.
“That’s not important.”
“Oh, sweet loving one, it’s the most crucial thing. What did you do this time?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The gigantic bear crashed off the protections, too dazed to realize he hadn’t smacked into the rough tree trunk, and turned toward the red dragon with a pissed-off roar, bleeding from a rip across his ribs.
“Close,” I muttered, shooting Chelsea a side eye.
“Glad it wasn’t a cat,” she agreed. “They’re smart as Hades. A hundred thousand trees in the forest, and he bounces off t
his one?”
She raised my dropped plume from a lower branch and I snatched it with a grin. I dipped, blotting again on my ruined shorts, and added a new entry.
Shifters wage a tactical offense, but the numbers, as they lose members to the fight, aren’t with them. I can’t be certain, but my take is that the fallen dragons are demis, with none of the full-blooded Thundra impacted. The cats are agile, dropping from the tallest trees onto a dragon’s back, whose writhing opens their necks to attack from below by the wolf packs and bears. Fire rages around us; Witch Chelsea isn’t sure her protective spells can repel dragon fire if our hiding place catches. The fae and mer are merciless in their attacks on the bears and wolves. In this battle, the big cats fare the best, but it’s far from finished. The crack of gunfire tells me my original love is still in the fight, a human push for balance.
I continued to write as the circle of the dragons tightened, pulling the fighting closer. Is the strategy to burn it to the ground? Which, to be fair, is a decent annihilation tactic. But it’s also anti-Triune. Peace by extinction isn’t the grand plan. Think, Patra.
“Any sign of Drago? Isn’t this his party?”
A thud that shook the tree answered me, followed by several more. Head whipping, I looked for the source as an enormous clawed food flattened a tree less than a hundred feet from ours.
“Mother of Zeus, that bitch gave Drago the grow potion!” Chelsea shrieked, grabbing my shoulder. “Hang on to me; if that tail hits us, we’re dead!”
I jammed the plume, inkpot, and journal back into my waist sack and gripped her wrist as she grabbed mine. Locked, we watched Drago move, breaking through the edge of the Thundra’s ring and unleashing hellfire on the nearest dragon, the red one embattled with the bear. As the dragon stumbled, a cat dropped from a tree above, and the wolves and bears tore its throat as it screamed.
A blue dragon blasted fire at the attacking shifters, and Drago bent, extended his neck and released a stream of roiling flames, blistering the skin from grey-blue to black, filling the forest with the scent of burnt skin. It roared in fury before swatting the lurking cat from the Loblolly pine tree and sending it sailing in a tail over teeth roll toward us that felt like slow mo, but I’m pretty sure that’s just my shocked interpretation. The cat bounced off the Chelsea’s protections, snarled, and looked up.