Dreadful Ashes

by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane

  “Yeah,” Jason eyed me and Tamara alike. “But you’d have gotten here much quicker if you let me get you that car.”

  “You mean steal me that car,” the Moroi retorted dryly.

  The scruffy, lanky teen shrugged noncommittally. “Six of one…”

  “What’s with you and all the talk about stealing stuff lately, anyway?” I knelt next to the cuts in the earth.

  He just grinned. “I'm a free spirit, chica. Unpredictable, y’know?”

  Rain cast a worried glance at his best friend’s back, then at us.

  Tamara stepped over to stand beside me, and I looked up at her. “You know, I think that kid’s becoming a bad influence,” I commented.

  “On…me?” Rain’s eyes were wide.

  “On everybody?” Jason offered.

  “On himself,” I clarified. Tamara snorted. “Also, footprints.” I pointed at the dirt, indicating a couple of oddly-shaped heel prints. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

  We spread out, staying mostly in sight of one another but widening our search area. Whatever this creature was, it didn’t follow a consistent path, with scattered footprints that failed to connect all the digging spots and piles of disturbed scrap.

  Almost like it was teleporting around, or something. That or there had been more than one. Yay. Glancing up, I noticed Jason wandering thoughtfully nearby and motioned him over.

  “Sup, chica muerta?”

  I caught his gaze with mine, holding it firmly. “Okay, spill it,” I said quietly. “What’s really going on with you?” I narrowed my eyes, reminding him that I was too stubborn to let the matter go easily. “Are you really okay?”

  I watched him, unblinking, while he opened his mouth—probably to lie to me—then closed it again as I raised my eyebrows.

  “Just…some family trouble, okay chica?” With a backward glance at Rain, Jason lowered his voice to where I had to strain to make sense of it. “My old man's been particularly…down on me lately.”

  I frowned, smothering a subtle rumble of anger that wouldn’t help either of us.

  “I don’t expect you to understand.” The changeling idly plucked a dead leaf from his unkempt, ash-brown hair and flicked it at me. For an instant, his eyes looked…older. “Your padre, he was a good man. He cared about you, at least. I know that much.”

  I could only nod. My dad had only been gone around a year or so; I missed him dearly, flaws and all. “But still…are you okay?”

  He waggled his eyebrows at me, his face unreadable.

  “Guys!” Rain jogged over, his voice quiet but excited, and unknowingly ruined my chances to pry further. “I found something.”

  “Something” was another freshly disturbed pile of old, heavy metal. Twisted pieces of corroded iron bigger than me jutted out at all angles, and the two changelings gave it its space. Out of all the Fae I was aware of, only changelings didn’t need to fear raw iron—only “pure” metals like silver, platinum, and gold—but the touch of it still grated on their nerves.

  “So. Whatever that thing was, we know it was looking for something,” Tamara stated. “But what, and why? These are the same boot prints you spotted earlier, Ashes. Except that they’re deeper here; looks like it lifted something heavy while sorting through the trash.”

  I nodded. “So does that.” I pointed at where a heavy train wheel had been tugged free of the earth and tossed aside like a discus—far aside. Not sure I could have made that throw.

  The Moroi nodded as well, smiling briefly as our eyes happened to catch and linger. “So it’s strong too. Really strong.” She eyed me thoughtfully once more. “But I’m still waiting for this all to make sense.” Clapping her hands sharply together, Tamara set her feet and heaved at a chunk of rusty iron, trying to shove it aside—only to give up after a moment of shifting it around, the liquid sapphire in her eyes sputtering out all too quickly.

  “Heavier than it looks,” she puffed with a playful smirk. I let her play it off and moved to assist, pulling the whole chunk out of the pile and tossing it aside, nearly getting an eyeful of twisted steel as I almost brought the whole mound tumbling down on us.

  “Whoopsie.”

  With a chuckle, Tamara helped me start sorting through the disturbed mass of metal with a bit more care, redistributing it to other, safer places as we tried to figure out why a scary, unidentified monster was digging in decades-old trash in the first place.

  “Guys,” Jason interrupted us after ten minutes or so; I took the opportunity to pause, seeing as Tamara already bore a shimmering layer of sweat on her flawless alabaster skin. “You’re not gonna find shit all in that scrap heap.”

  “Well, not with that attitude we won’t.” I stood straight and popped my back, making Rain jump at the sharp, sudden sound.

  “No,” Jason sighed and crossed his arms. “As in, there’s nothing there to find.”

  “We won’t know until—”

  “No, goddamnit. There was, but it’s gone now.” Exasperated, Jason waved us over, showing off a mass of disturbed metal and a substantial hole in the ground and gravel where something large and heavy had been unearthed. From there, a deep rut cut its way through the earth and away into the quiet of the railyard. “Whatever it was, whatever that scary-ass thing was looking for…he found it.”

  o o o

  The new trail led us on a winding way through the whole railyard, disappearing completely and reappearing unpredictably. Old-fashioned boot-prints stood out here and there, always accompanied by the sharp rut dug in the ground.

  Rain bent low and gave the narrow slash in the dirt a sniff. “Rusty iron,” he reported, wrinkling his nose. “Smells old.”

  “One random hunk of metal out of the lot?” I sighed, a rattle of dead air. “What the actual fuck?”

  We followed the trail, tracks, scent, and chill air alike, all the way to the edge of the railyard.

  Where it promptly disappeared without a trace.

  “Well,” Tamara sighed. “Dead end? That was fun, I guess.”

  Rain sniffed the air. “I smell gas,” he offered. “And…Sanguinarians.”

  “Think it’s connected?” Tamara raised an eyebrow.

  Jason pointed down the nearby gravel road that led around behind the old scrapyard. “Probably just someone running a happy little shipment of fresh drugs,” he countered dryly. “Lonely part of town down that way.”

  I shrugged and started to stuff my hands into my pockets—only to find Tamara’s fingers in the way. I smiled under my mask and took her hand instead. “Honestly?” I rasped. “I doubt it matters. This is probably none of our business.”

  Rain looked like he wanted to object, but Jason nudged him.

  “She might be right, manito,” the older changeling commented. “I mean, how often do we go digging through someone’s trash for the fun of it? I wouldn’t want someone investigating every time that happens.”

  Rain inclined his head, a sparkle of youthful, coyote-inspired mischief twinkling in the depths of his soft brown eyes. “Good point.”

  A sudden ripple of unearthly hunger passed through my core, and I sighed. I’d carried Tamara through the shadows most of the way here tonight, and it had worn on my already low reserves of supernatural fuel. “Let’s walk and talk? I don’t think there’s any point in lingering here.”

  Together, we wandered back toward the light of nearby civilization, away from the field of cold, rust, and monsters, each of us simply enjoying the night and the quiet company of friends.

  As we walked, Tamara entwined her fingers with mine. They were cold, I thought, but there wasn’t much poor dead me could do about that.

  I tried anyway.

  “So we were hoping to get a chance to talk to you two tonight,” Tamara said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “Someone who I won’t name,” she glared at me playfully, “got attacked by a bundle of werewolves last night.”

  Huh. I’d almost forgotten about being eaten by wolves yesterday. “Is t
hat what we’re calling it?” I rasped. “A bundle?”

  “Looked like a bundle to me,” she smiled.

  “That’s messed up,” Jason frowned at me. “What’d you do to ‘em, chica?”

  “Not shit,” I protested. “They attacked me.”

  “Where?” Rain asked. "I mean, there’s a pack that patrols a bit of turf between here and the whole Gardendale-Fultondale area, a bit further north. I’ve never heard of them outright attacking anyone…but truth be told, we always avoid them if we catch wind of them.”

  “You do?” Tamara seemed surprised. “Figured you’d want to get in touch with another pack of changelings.”

  Jason snorted. “When they’re both bigger and stronger and more numerous than we are? And probably pretty territorial to boot?” He shook his head. “Biology lesson: in the wild, wolves are one of the coyote’s biggest problems. Mix that with how bad normal assholes can be…” He kept shaking his head emphatically, tossing his uneven, ash brown hair to and fro. “Let’s just say I’ve seen a few completely mortal gang fights go down, and I have no desire to be a part of a supernatural one.”

  Except that’s what’s been happening with the vampires since the beginning, I thought. And I already got you both mixed up in that.

  “We’ve talked about it,” Rain said. His bright eyes looked a little sad. “But Jason’s right. It’s probably not safe.” The boy frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe you spooked them or something? We’ve never smelled them this far south. They mostly seem to stick to the few neighborhoods I mentioned.”

  “We ran into them in a house just a few blocks away from Ashes’ church,” Tamara elaborated. I noted she still didn’t call it our church. Maybe I was reading too much into that. “Along with a ruined threshold and an older gentleman about half an asshair from death.”

  Both boys looked surprised. Jason raised an eyebrow. “Do you think they…”

  “Probably not.” Tamara shook her head. “He hadn’t been mauled or anything. There was just one deep, precise wound, and it certainly wasn’t made by wolf claws.”

  “They could have done it in human form,” I added thoughtfully. “With a weapon or something. But I’m not so sure it adds up. What with the whiff of death energy we found, the weakened ward…” I wheezed out a sigh. “We were honestly hoping you guys’d know something about them that might help it all make sense.”

  “Wish we could help, chica.” Jason yawned. He looked apologetic. “If you run across anything else, remember: we’re just a phone call away.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded and gave them both an appreciative smile. “Goes both ways. Like tonight.”

  “Which reminds me…” Tamara gave them both a look. “What were you guys doing so far from your home turf?”

  My almost-maybe girlfriend had a point. The railyard lay close to some pretty bad neighborhoods, and while the boys could handle mundane threats—usually by running away or outsmarting them—with supernatural tensions continuing to mount on the city streets, venturing into areas like this wasn’t as good of an idea as it used to be.

  “Yeah,” I eyed them. “Didn’t Garibaldi set some ground rules or a curfew or something?” I watched Rain shift uncomfortably. “And I thought he didn’t like you out late on school nights anymore—” I paused. “Or did he already pull you out of school?”

  Rain smiled shyly, raking wispy bits of hair from his eyes. “Yeah. I’m officially homeschooled now. Dad already hired me a tutor and everything.” His youthful face brightened, the fear from earlier forgotten. “She’s a former history teacher that used to work in Egypt and India! It’s so awesome.” He was grinning. “Dad said this way, I can learn a lot of things that they don’t even touch in American schools.”

  “What about you?” Tamara looked at Jason.

  “Pfft. I dropped out, chica.” He smirked. “No reason for me to stick around that shithole for another boring year, y’know?”

  I knew why he’d really dropped out, but I also knew it was still a secret. The younger changeling still didn’t know his best friend was actually employed by his ex-mafia father as a bodyguard—proof positive that truth was stranger than soap operas. “Gonna get your GED, at least?”

  He shrugged, obviously uncaring, and nodded toward Rain. “He gets tutored. Sometimes I have nothing better to do than drop by and listen. But a sheet of paper doesn't do much for me.”

  “No plans for college or anything?” Tamara looked concerned.

  Jason tossed back his head and laughed, seeming genuinely amused. “Now what the hell would I do in a place like that, chica?” He shook his head, grinning. “They’d throw me out in a day.”

  Awkward silence reigned, at least for three of us. Jason didn’t seem bothered.

  “I don’t really know either,” Rain finally said. “What I want to do with my life, I mean.”

  “Planning out your whole future is hard,” I offered. I felt like I had to say something even if I was an awful example of what to do with your life. If I hadn’t accidentally become a vampire, I’d probably still be cleaning tables and selling delicious gyros in the middle of the night. Talk about a sudden change of professions. “Especially if nothing calls to you.”

  Rain nodded. “I’m glad you understand.” He kicked idly at the dirt. “Dad tries to help, but just…like you said, nothing calls to me. Except…” The young changeling trailed off and shared a look with Jason, who nodded. “Running. Exploring. Shifting. Being free. Feeling the fresh air across my skin, or rushing through my hair or fur.” He made a face. “There’s no grad school for that.”

  I snorted. “Well, don’t give up. But maybe don’t rush into anything, either. They say that these days there’s no need to jump right in—”

  I took one step out of an alley and onto a broken sidewalk—and went completely still.

  Not again.

  Tamara tugged at my hand. “Ashes?” She stopped mid-motion and froze as well.

  You’re not getting away this time.

  “What is that?” the Moroi whispered, a core of liquid sapphire swirling in the depths of her beautiful eyes.

  “Death,” Rain answered for me, his eyes wide.

  “And blood,” Jason added, sniffing the air, his body rigid. “And it’s close.” Both changelings shifted warily, on edge, as if they sensed a predator.

  Because they did.

  “The three of you stay here.” I let Tamara’s fingers slip through mine. “And stay out of sight.”

  Tamara’s eyes searched my face. “Ashley?”

  “I’ll be right back.” I met her gaze with a grim smile. “I have to catch a murderer.”

  3

  Midnight massacre

  Two leaps took me to the top of the closest building as I left my friends’ questions and concerns behind. I trusted that they could take care of themselves and each other for a few minutes, at least. This opportunity wouldn’t wait around forever, assuming I wasn’t already too late.

  Two streets over, I crouched on the crumbling edge of a rooftop, surveying the carnage. About a dozen bodies, mangled to various extents, some still steaming from where their warm guts were open to the chill night air. Not as bad as last time, then. Just over half of the freshly-made corpses were human; I could tell from the distinctive smell of barely-spoiled human blood, a scent that penetrated my thick cloth mask with supernatural ease. Most of the intact arms I saw sported identical tattoos, a matching set I recognized as gang insignias, even if I couldn’t quite identify them by name.

  Like every time before, the rest were Sanguinarians.

  Well, what was left of them, anyway.

  Scattered limbs and shredded internals lay in pools of thick, cloying blood, a stink that was so close to human, but so different at the same time. The rest of their blood painted the alley walls in arbitrary arcs and sprays, telling the story of where the vampires had tried to fight, run, or simply died where they stood.

  A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been too bothered by a few
dead Blood Vampires. It had been all too easy to write them all off as monsters, to hide any consideration behind the faceless label of “an enemy.” You know, like people do with me. Now I knew better.

  Aine might not be a friend, and even she might admit that most of her kind changed when they were turned, their humanity withering away over the first few nights as a Sanguinarian. It was the “most” part that made me hesitate though. I’d still defend myself and my friends with lethal force when I had to, but wholesale butchery on the scale of what lay a couple stories below no longer felt like something to dismiss without batting a lash.

  I regretted that it ever had.

  I dropped into the side street and gave the scene a quick examination, looking for clues, looking for a trail to follow. Like before, the bodies of the Sanguinarians in particular had been savaged, rendered almost unrecognizable by something strong with a set of long, sharp claws and a lot of rage. It was a level of violence that suggested hatred…or possibly, a message.

  That, and a lack of control.

  Some of the splattered red stood out, different than the rest: packets of blood red pills, ground to paste underfoot. Another Ruby handoff, then. A couple of human hands still clutched their Rugers and Berettas in the tight grip of death, even the one fist I found under a dented dumpster, no longer attached to its owner. A closer examination showed that the barrel was still warm from an ultimately unhelpful attempt to empty its magazine into something.

  Rain and Jason probably heard the gunfire from the railyard. And probably ignored it. It wasn’t particularly unusual in this part of town after all. More noteworthy was the lack of bullet-ridden corpses—all that gunfire, but to no avail.

  Then my stomach clenched as I found the first few lead bullets, their tips flattened from where they had impacted something uncompromising, something tougher than metal.

  I’d never come across one of these massacres so soon after the deed; typically, I arrived around or after the Sanguinarians did, as they scrubbed the site and took the supernatural implications of their dead kin with them. But now that I was here first…the more clues I found, the less I liked the answers. Moving to the most intact of the dead gangers, I gave the relatively shallow pool of blood he lay in a suspicious eye. And after a moment’s hesitation, I turned his nearly-severed head with the toe of my boot—