Havoc

by Taylor Longford

  "The rest of the way!" Mac exclaimed.

  "Aye," I answered evenly. "I could fly across Canada to Greenland, then Iceland, then Scotland."

  "That's…thousands of miles."

  "I didn't say it would be easy. But if the Vikings could make the trip in boats, I think I could do the same with wings."

  "That's crazy!" Mac turned to the young man sitting beside her. "Valor! Tell him that's crazy."

  "It…wouldn't be easy," he hedged.

  "I think I already said that," I answered with a smirk.

  Defiance drawled, "Well, if you're going, you'd have to leave soon. Wouldn't want to wait. I hear Iceland's a bit chilly in the winter."

  "I'd have to leave soon," I agreed.

  "I don't like it," Dare muttered.

  "Nor do I," Reason growled.

  "Why do you have to go?" Whitney demanded.

  I moved my gaze to her face. Once upon a time not so long ago, I would have thought her reaction was just more proof that she was in love with me. But the new, reality-grounded Havoc was worried that she would only miss my cooking. "Because I promised Mitch I would go and tell her father about her."

  Whitney threw up her hands. "You and your promises!"

  Defiance leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. "You made a promise…to a harpy," he reminded me.

  "…who's dead," Force added in a quiet rumble.

  "Guys, I'm going!" I insisted, my voice rising as I rubbed a hand over my eyes. "One way or another, I'm going. I'm only asking you to help me find the best way."

  "Why is this so important to you?" Mac asked.

  "Promises are always important," I answered impatiently, flicking a glance at Camie and thinking that she, at least, would understand. "But even if I hadn't given my word to Mitch, I'd want to see Malarkey. I need…to talk to him."

  "Is this about Sophie?" she asked sharply.

  I shot a dark look her way. "Don't drag Sophie into this," I warned.

  "Well, is it?"

  I didn't answer the question directly because I didn't want to lie. "He might know something about my mother," I said. "He might know how she fared after we disappeared eight hundred years ago. I want to know." I turned an accusing look on my brothers. "Don't you guys want to know?"

  "Aye," Valor answered in a low voice. "But…"

  "But not at the expense of losing you," Dare finished.

  "All of us want to hear news about her," Victor added quietly. "She was a mother to the entire pack when the rest of our parents died."

  Mim pulled her hair to one side and my gaze tracked the movement. Dare's lass was perhaps the least confident member of the pack even though she was also the smartest.

  "What?" I asked, knowing that she had something she wanted to suggest.

  "Why don't you go back the same way you got here?" Mim ventured quietly. "In a shipping crate?"

  "Aye, because that worked out so well the first time," I pointed out wryly.

  "Shipping accidents are rare," Dare sighed. "You must know that."

  "Aye," I answered grudgingly. "I know that. So, I arrive in Scotland in a box. Who opens the box and puts me in the sun?"

  "I…I could travel there," MacKenzie offered. "We could ship the box to a hotel and ask them to hold it for me. When I got there, I could open your crate."

  I checked Valor's face. I knew how hard it was for him to be parted from MacKenzie. "I can't ask you to do that," I muttered. "I'll take the Greenland route."

  "But that's gotta be a round trip of six thousand miles!"

  "I only have to get there," I growled. "I don't necessarily need to get back."

  "What?" she exclaimed while the others just stared at me. "You can't do that! You're part of the pack. You can't just leave!"

  Everyone else started agreeing…loudly. In fact, they were making so much noise that we missed the sound of tires on the drive. A knock on the front door alerted us to someone's presence outside.

  Leaping to his feet, Chaos strode from the room. He came back a few seconds later with Agent Moreno. We were all so surprised to see him that we neglected to give him a proper welcome. Even Victor failed to say hello or offer him a seat. And Victor's always on top of stuff like that.

  Moreno searched the faces in the dining room, finally settling his gaze on Force. "Ah," he said. "There you are." Striding around to the other side of the table, he pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket slapped it into Force's hand.

  Force grinned down at the paper money. "So I was right?"

  "You were right," Moreno affirmed. "There was more than one body buried in the Olanders' back yard. Quite a few more, actually. The news hasn't been released to the media yet, but the investigation has solved a number of murders going back ten years."

  "So, that's good news?" Force rumbled.

  "Yes," Moreno answered.

  "So…what about those consequences you mentioned earlier?" I asked.

  "Consequences?" Moreno echoed.

  I lifted my eyebrows. "I hate to be the one to remind you, but you suggested there might be consequences if you found we were involved in Rafe Olander's death."

  "I believe I did say that," Moreno agreed. "But the man was obviously killed by harpies."

  "So…that knife wound in his chest didn't slow you down any?"

  Clearly frustrated by my questions, Moreno wheeled to face me. "Why are you so determined to get into trouble?" he snapped.

  I sent him a slow smile. "I just want credit for killing the bastard," I muttered darkly.

  Moreno spent the next few seconds straightening his tie (which didn't need straightening). By all appearances, that striped power tie of his was feeling like a noose around his neck. "Rafe Olander probably died from a knife wound," he finally admitted. "The blade sliced through a valve in his heart."

  I grinned up at him.

  "After that, he was…apparently…torn apart by harpies," Moreno added, checking my face to make sure he'd gotten it right.

  I just kept grinning. "So…what you're saying is…there will be no consequences as a result of Rafe's death."

  "I wouldn't exactly say that," Moreno answered as a smile tugged at his mouth. "One of the consequences was a promotion…for me."

  We all looked at each other. Then we all pushed back in our chairs and stood, making our way to Agent Moreno and shaking his hand.

  "Congratulations," Victor said and thumped his back warmly.

  "Aye," the rest of the pack chimed in. "Congratulations."

  "So, what did your investigative team think about all those dead harpies at the quarry?" I asked him when we were all seated again, Moreno joining Victor at the head of the table.

  Moreno cleared his throat. "As you must know, at least a few people at the FBI are aware of the creatures' existence. So, my supervisors had already formulated an explanation for the stone sculptures."

  "So, your supervisors fed their story to your team…"

  "…and the team bought it," he finished.

  I nodded, thinking that FBI agents probably dealt with a lot of strange stuff. They'd probably figured out when to not ask questions.

  Moreno reached into his jacket and pulled a brown envelope from an inner pocket. He tossed it onto the table. It slid a few feet on the polished wood and stopped in front of me.

  My gaze snapped to his face. "Is this…what I think it is?"

  He lifted his chin in a curt nod. "In appreciation for your services."

  "For our help in solving those murders committed by Olander?"

  "That and more," Moreno said. "Simpson had done his best to hide his involvement with you guys but I managed to dig up your file. I found out about that super harpy you helped capture and the results of the experiments that have been carried out since then. Did you know about the new lightweight body armor that has been developed as a result of those experiments?"

  "Nay."

  "It's top secret, of course, but the armor will be distributed later this year to police forces
around the country, as well as to the military."

  "So, that makes us the good guys?"

  "It does in my books," Moreno said. "Of course, it doesn't hurt that I have two daughters in the military."

  I smiled at Victor.

  Victor smiled back.

  "And…" Moreno added.

  "And what?" I asked.

  The agent tipped his head at Defiance. "That one was right," he muttered. "You guys didn't have to pull me out of the water."

  Victor grinned as he turned to the agent sitting beside him. "Agent Moreno, would you like to join us for dinner?"

  "I'd be delighted," he answered, tilting his head in an officious little bow.

  So, while I got to work in the kitchen, the others opened the envelope and sorted through the documents inside. We'd all been granted citizenship…based on information that was entirely fabricated. My family and I were evidently immigrants from the U.K. gifted with skills that made us valuable new citizens of the United States of America.

  Reason was an artist who couldn't possibly be replaced by anyone currently living in the country. Defiance was some kind of horse-whisperer or something equally absurd. Chaos had imported a new style of skateboarding that was going to revolutionize the American industry. I was described as a culinary genius with five-star potential. The rest of my family were bow-smiths with no equal.

  Inside the envelope were (fake) documentation of our births, along with current passports that could take us anywhere in the world. Most of us could drive by then (though we had never been legal) so all we had to do was go down to the DMV, take our tests and pick up our licenses.

  We were set.

  "Thank you," Victor told the little agent, his aqua gaze sparkling with warmth. "How can we possibly make this up to you?"

  "Just invite me to the weddings," Moreno answered with a grin. "If you were feeling generous, you might even let me preside."

  "Can…you do that?" Victor asked, looking surprised.

  "I can get things set up so I can do that," Moreno answered.

  So, I whipped up a nice meal of pork medallions and ratatouille, and we all talked late into the night. It never hurts to know people in the FBI and we had—apparently—made a firm friend in Agent Moreno.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next morning, I made plans to visit the U.K.. Mim took care of my travel arrangements, buying the airline tickets online. Together, we checked out bed-and-breakfasts and reserved a room for me. I flew to Edinburgh and got off the plane wearing latex gloves.

  I'd never been to Scotland, but I was pretty sure the city had changed a lot in the last eight hundred years. It was a beautiful town, the streets stacked with honey-colored buildings that seemed warm and inviting. The people were tall and just as handsome. I fell in love with the place.

  It was noon when I landed, so I rented a taxi to take me to a small town up north where I spent the night. Rising before dawn the next day, I checked the weather report, which promised sunny skies. With a sense of elation buoying me, I picked up some fast food then took to the air before the sun was properly up.

  Dare had drawn me a map to help me find my way. And we'd reviewed the location on a satellite map before I left home. So, I knew exactly where I was going. I traveled in the half-light of dawn; I wanted the sun to be up when I reached my destination.

  Grotschka's lair wasn't far from the bed-and-breakfast. The cliffs towered on either side of me as I hugged the ground on my way up the valley. Stopping to check my map, I stood on the grass with my wings open and looked up to where the aerie should have been. It wasn't visible from the valley floor. So, I stroked my way upward until I found the dark gash in the cliff face.

  I hovered in the air when I reached the ledge that cut deeply into the rock.

  Malarkey was older than he had been. 'Course, he'd always been a few years older than me but now he was a few more. I put him to be about Victor's age. He crouched at the edge of the precipice, his wings slung back, one hand fixed to the rock, the other resting on his knee. It was very dramatic. And so like Malarkey.

  "Malarkey," I said quietly as the sun crested the horizon. The golden rays of light poured across the green fields and reached for the cliffs, touching the top of his head.

  "Havoc," he answered, color returning to his face and clothes as he stood. He grabbed me out of the air, pulling me into a fierce hug on the rocky ledge.

  "What happened to your hair?" he exclaimed, holding me out at arm's length.

  "Ran into harpy-spawn," I said with a lopsided smirk.

  "Harpy-spawn?" he questioned.

  "Half human, half harpy."

  "I…didn't think that was possible."

  "It wasn't until recently. Modern technology," I explained shortly.

  He dropped his hold on me and stepped back, his eyes searching my face. "So, what did this harpy-spawn have against your hair?"

  "Only that it was attached to my head," I said with a laugh. "So, I lost my hair. He on the other hand, lost his life."

  "Fair trade," Malarkey said, grinning.

  "More than fair," I answered.

  Then we were laughing together, and it was just as if we had never been parted. We sat at the edge of the ledge, our feet dangling in space. I opened the paper bag I'd brought with me and handed him a hamburger.

  "I knew you'd be hungry," I told him.

  "Tastes good," he said, his voice muffled as he chewed.

  "The burgers in America are better," I pointed out. "I'm not sure what they do to them here in the U.K.. But I think they start with a whole pig and a massive meat grinder tough enough for bones and hooves."

  Malarkey laughed and I watched his golden eyes light up his tanned face, his wild black hair ruffled by the breeze that was falling down the valley. We ate our hamburgers. And when we'd finished, I collected our wrappers and stuffed them back in the paper bag.

  Since Malarkey had been so completely isolated for the last eight centuries, he couldn't speak modern English, so we talked in the Old Language. Malarkey described how he'd searched for me and my family after we'd disappeared. When he couldn't find us, he thought we'd been killed by harpies.

  "Killed by harpies?" I laughed. "I don't think that would ever happen. I mean, they might kill one gargoyle to teach the others a lesson. But they'd never kill nine of us."

  "I couldn't find any other explanation," he explained soberly. "I organized my pack and started killing harpies." He turned his head and searched my face. "Where were you all that time?"

  "You remember the little stone croft built against the old Roman walls?"

  "The miller's croft?"

  "Nay, the small one. The one between the abbey and the open forge."

  "You were in there?" he exclaimed, looking thunderstruck. "But I looked there!"

  "The harpies built a false wall at the back of the hut," I told him. "We were behind it."

  Malarkey just shook his head. "All those years and I never thought…But how are you? How is your family? How's Chaos?"

  "Good. All good. Especially Chaos."

  And I brought him up to date with our history in America—how MacKenzie's stepfather had found us between the walls of that old house in York and shipped us to his home in America.

  The sun lifted above the morning haze that clung to the earth as I told Malarkey how Valor was the first to arrive in Colorado and how MacKenzie had opened his crate against the wishes of her stepfather. And how Val had been forced to reveal his true nature to her when a toolbox fell on her. How he'd helped her then had been conflicted to find himself attracted to a witch. How, together, they had brought down a harpy.

  "Attracted to a witch?" Malarkey exclaimed. "Even after his brother had been betrayed by one of their kind?"

  "You'd have to meet Mac to understand," I murmured, smiling and remembering the day Reason had challenged Valor to reveal his interest in the redhead. "Dare adores her. She taught him to drive."

  "Drive?"

  "Cars."
I pointed at a thin ribbon of road in the distance, where several vehicles inched along its surface.

  "Ah," he murmured as I started in on the story of how Mim had made wings for Dare.

  "And your brother can fly again?" Malarkey asked in wonder.

  "Faster than ever," I answered.

  "But he was always the fastest in the pack."

  "He's faster now," I said, and told him about the day Dare had been forced to cut off Mim's fingers to save her from the harpy, Nitschka. And how their love had survived the violence of that act.

  Sitting on the rock ledge and swinging my legs, I described the adventures of Reason and Elaina, how Rees had saved Lainey when she fell in the pool and how she'd followed his trail to Colorado. How Reason had marked her to protect both of them from the harpy, Motschka. And how it turned out to be the right thing to do because he loved her anyways.

  I was on a roll and kept going, next telling him about Whitney and Defiance and how my cousin had pulled Whit's horse off her that day in the arena. And how she wore his rune around her neck for the next two years, before she turned eighteen.

  "He had a gold pendant made for her?" he asked, seemingly amused.

  "I helped with the design."

  He squinted at me. "I never took Defiance for the sentimental sort."

  "That was before he met Whitney," I answered.

  Finished with Defiance's story, I described the long search for Chaos and how he'd finally been freed from the clutches of the harpy, Vilschka. How the monster had impaled herself on his stone wingtip when he was protecting Torrie. And how Torrie had stolen Chaos's rune back from the harpy.

  "She pressed her palm against the harpy's rune as the monster was dying. And the rune was transferred to Torrie…with all of its binding properties."

  Malarkey nodded. "I've heard of such a thing before. I've heard of harpies passing their bound gargoyles to their sisters."

  The sun lifted higher in the sky as I told him about Victor and Samantha. How the pack leader's love for Torrie's older sister was the only thing that had saved him from a disastrous union with a bad witch named Alexa.

  "This Alexa tried to bewitch Victor into wedding her?"