by Dianna Hardy
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Mary plonked herself down on the sofa next to him. She was an anomaly if he ever saw one. Horrific dreams plagued her nightly – they seemed to be some kind of psychic connection she had – but they were mostly of monsters, other demons, violence, pretty much everything dark and terrifying, and she hadn't a clue what she was supposed to do with these nightmares. More interesting still, was that Pueblo's demon blood ran cold every time she was near – his demon wanted to either run from her, or kneel at her feet. According to her, she had no idea 'what' she was. It seemed that no one else had any idea what she was either, but he'd bet his life on the fact that she wasn't human, despite her beating heart and entirely human appearance, and a striking one at that, with her blue-black hair and piercing sky-blue eyes.
"Not sure they're worth a penny," he smiled.
She glanced at her watch. "It's almost 7 a.m. Everyone's convened in the kitchen; we're just waiting for Gwain."
He nodded.
"You're really not much of a talker are you?"
"Actions speak louder than words." Then he internally winced as the faceless image of his father imposed itself upon his thoughts once more. Actions spoke louder than words – wasn't that the truth.
A light, ruffling noise signalled the arrival of Gwain in the hallway. Karl's irritated voice sounded from across the hall near the kitchen.
"I told you to knock like everyone else. If the neighbours see you … for God's sake, you're over ten thousand years old; you'd think you could show a little discretion."
"I was discreet."
"Disappearing through a wall is not discreet."
"Nobody saw me."
"Are you certain? You never take the time to check as far as I can tell…"
Mary sighed and shook her head. "I thought Karl and Elena were like an old married couple, but the way those two men bicker—"
"They're not exactly men." He tried and failed to hide his disdain.
Mary looked at him, quizzically. "Do all demons hate angels? I get why Shanka demons would hate angels, I mean, the Shanka seem like they're, well, evil. You're not evil … unless you're a damn good actor."
He crossed his arms over his chest and tightened his lips.
Mary rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get it, you're not going to talk about anything to do with yourself. But, you know, if you want us to help you find Amy, giving a little of yourself wouldn't be such a bad idea.
"Come on, let's get this meeting started."
They both stood, Pueblo adjusting his crotch as he did so. "Sorry," he apologised, noting her raised eyebrows. "I'm still not used to wearing so much; I feel completely restricted. Jeans are not comfortable – how do people where them day in and day out?"
"Most people don't grow up in a loin cloth."
He refrained from telling her he still had his loin cloth on under the jeans – they went a small way to ensuring some kind of ease of movement against the rough denim. He'd thought of ditching the clothes altogether, but it was Amy that had adorned him with them, and he wasn't about to throw away a gift from her, no matter how … abrasive … it may be.
"Excellent!" boomed Gwain as they entered the kitchen, his Cockney accent sounding a little too rough to Pueblo's naturally sensitive hearing. "We're all here."
At ten thousand plus years, he didn't look a day over fifty. His face, although ruggedly handsome, was etched with lines of a hard-lived life – if it weren't for his enormous, white wings taking up half the room, and the air of conscious awareness permanently surrounding him, one would be forgiven for thinking him an ex-rock star that had smoked and drunk too much, too young.
Pueblo surveyed the roomful of people. Karl leaned back against the kitchen counter, his own wings hidden, and Elena stood beside him looking a damn sight better than she had a few days ago. Still, Pueblo regarded her with the utmost caution. As far as he was concerned, the woman was a loose cannon where her new-found demonhood was concerned – neither was it helped by the fact that she was, at present, the most powerful witch in the world. Karl, her soul-bonded – 'soulmates' as humans called it – went a long way to reining her demon in, but he shuddered to think what would happen if he wasn't around.
Elena caught him staring at her and shifted nervously under his gaze, a flash of guilt passing over her eyes … which in turn earned him a defensive look from Karl. Great.
Pueblo pulled out a kitchen chair and sat himself down. Mary sat to his right.
Gwain gave himself a little stretch and his wings disappeared. Pueblo had never quite figured out whether angels' wings were solid or immaterial – being a demon, it's not like he'd ever gotten close to an angel before, and neither did he want to remain close to them. As soon as he found Amy and this whole crazy business was done, he had no intention of hanging around…
"Right," started Gwain. "In short, Amy's missing, she was probably taken by Etienne, who's the big boss of The Council – or The Witch Council, to be correct – and there's no trace of her anywhere. Not materially, not magically and not energetically." He turned to Pueblo. "Have you had any further luck with your blood bond?"
Pueblo shook his head, feeling more than a little helpless. A blood bond was strong – no way she could just be invisible to him in every sense, but there it was.
"Right, then we have to move swiftly onto plan B. Karl and I spent the last two days searching the Akashic Records. We have a record of most events of her life, right up until a week ago when she disappeared, then, nada."
Elena piped up. "So, she's literally vanished from the face of the earth?"
"It seems that way."
"So," she paused, her voice going quiet. "She might be dead?"
"Unlikely—"
"No," stated Pueblo at the same time. "I may not be able to detect where she is, but our blood bond is not broken – it would feel … different … if it was."
Gwain nodded. "He's right. A death cannot escape the Akashic Records, neither can a birth." His eyes passed quickly over Mary, a strange look lighting them, then he looked away again. Mary didn't seem to notice.
"So, why is there no record of her this past week? What does escape the Akashic Records?"
Rubbing the back of his neck, the angel paused, as if wondering how to continue. "The Akasha holds a record of all events that take place in Heaven and on Earth…"
He stopped, his words slowly sinking in. Pueblo's stomach tightened.
"But," whispered Karl, "it cannot record anything that happens in Hell."
A shocked silence followed.
Mary's hushed voice seemed strangely loud when she next spoke. "Are you saying, that Amy's in Hell?"
"I'm saying it's a possibility we can't overlook, although…"
"Although, what?" asked Pueblo through gritted teeth.
"There are many Hell dimensions – Angels can rarely see into any of them. We have to actually go in there to know what's going on, which isn't a decision made lightly. However, the Shanka's own dimension has been in disarray since Elena's little parlour trick and my beheading their King, so the natural defences of their shadow world was down, and I did manage to catch a glimpse into it."
"You did?" Elena practically squealed. "Did you see—"
"Yes – I saw your mother."
More silence. Amy wasn't the only person they'd lost in last week's battle. Elena's mother, Katherine Green, had sacrificed herself to the Shanka tribe to save, not just her daughter, but the world.
"Oh my God, is she—"
"She could be better, she could be worse." His voice tightened. "There's nothing to be done about it now."
"Like hell there isn't; you saw her – if she's alive, we have to—"
"There's no way in, Elena. No way into that world any more."
"I'll find a way—"
"You've done enough!"
"Gwain," warned Karl – a gentle warning, but a warning none the less.
Elena blinked, clearly trying to hold back tears … even
so, her eyes still flashed that eerie green that was the calling card for all Shanka demons – that and their unmistakeable sexual energy.
The angel's features softened. "Elena, Katherine's a strong woman – bull-headed, rebellious and bloody unbreakable, even after… If anyone can survive the Shanka's dimension, it's Kat. We will find a way to get her out. But my sense is that Amy's time runs shorter – we need to help Amy now."
Elena frowned, but didn't press further. Karl gripped her hand in his own glowing one, the glow serving as an energetic pacifier for the demon inside her.
Loose. Fucking. Cannon.
No one questioned Gwain's shortened use of Katherine's name, but there were unanswered questions clinging to the air. Despite their sudden alliance, everyone in this little group had kept their personal histories and secrets to themselves … well, except Elena. Her history was written in Katherine's diary, which they'd all read over the past week in an effort to gain information that might help to save her. Strangely, there was no mention of Gwain in any of her entries.
"As I was saying," he continued, "the little that I could see in the brief moment I saw it, showed no signs of Amy being held in a Hell dimension. But what I saw was so brief, we can't rule it out."
"So, what happens now?" asked Mary.
"We need outside help. Pueblo, I think we should contact the Brujii. Etienne is a master of magic – it could be that the Brujii know of the kind of magic he's used, and know how to get her back. I need you to go to them. I'd go myself, but I don't think they'd take too kindly to an angel in their territory – take Elena with you."
"Hang on a minute," protested Karl.
Pueblo shook his head. Alone with the ticking time bomb? Not a chance. "Karl must come as well."
Gwain frowned. "Once they know there's an angel with you, they may not confer with you at all."
"I'll find a way. Karl comes too."
Gwain crossed his arms over his chest. Pueblo did the same.
"Er, guys?" said Elena. "Remember me? Despite the fact that I don't appreciate you making decisions for me, I actually have a job to go to. Poor Mary's been running the shop by herself for a week. She needs a break and I really need to see my clients – I've had to re-book five since last Tuesday. Karl has a job too—"
"We can visit the Brujii today," offered Pueblo, "and you'll both still make it back for work tomorrow."
"I was actually hoping to go in this afternoon—"
"Elena, it's fine," said Mary. "This is important, and another day won't hurt, besides, sales have gone through the roof since you created that portal," she joked. "Black Tourmaline's flying out the door; I can't order enough."
Elena didn't laugh.
"Gwain," reasoned Karl, "I'd rather go than stay. Elena's still … new … to her demon half…"
His soulmate pulled an inch away from him and threw him an angry glance.
"Honey, I'm sorry, but it's true…"
"Fine," sighed Gwain, "but you," he pointed at Pueblo, "need to think about how to convince the Brujii that siding with an angel is a good thing."
"Okay. Are we done?"
"No." He stopped and stared intently at Pueblo, then brought his voice down a notch. "It would be helpful to us all, if we knew about Amy's … special abilities. Are you going to share with us, or shall I?"
Pueblo scowled. "Is there anything angels don't know?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
The cat inside him paced furiously up and down, demanding to be heard; it had never been too thrilled at his total denial of its existence. He found himself sagging in his seat. He was under no illusions that this day would eventually come … and if it helped Amy…
"Amy is a shapeshifter."
You could have heard a pin drop.
Both women's jaws dropped open; Karl stared at the floor.
"A … what?" asked Mary.
"A shapeshifter."
"Yes, I heard, I just … they exist? You mean, like a werewolf?"
"No, not a werewolf; a shapeshifter. A werewolf or werecat can only transform into one other mammal, usually a canine or feline – you don't find many weregoats. It is a mutation in their genetics that allows it. A shapeshifter, sometimes called a shape changer, can, as the name suggests, shift into many shapes, many animals, even elements, like fire and water. A shapeshifter's ability is not within the genes, but founded on aeons of mastery handed down from the shamans of old to their apprentices."
"Amy's not a shaman," stated Elena.
"She's a very skilful witch – a natural in the arts of magic, with a particularly good talent for teleportation, which is a shapeshifting of sorts. I would gather that somewhere in her ancestry there was a shaman – more than one."
Gwain nodded. "According to her records, she entered The Council at the age of five, and we could not find a single trace of history for her before that, other than her birth."
"Why not?" asked Elena.
"Hellish deeds cloud life events from the Akasha," muttered Gwain.
"Well, that's my dear grandfather all over isn't it?" she scowled. "Hellish deeds indeed. He probably stole her from her family at the age of five because he saw her magical potential, and wanted to integrate her into the ways of The Council for his own gain."
Elena's anger made sense to Pueblo. She was embittered that Etienne, The Council's High Priest and Elder – the same witch that had taken Amy – was in fact, her grandfather; maybe moreso that she had known him as a tutor her entire life, but never knew he was her blood relation until just a week ago.
"But wait … Pueblo, how did you know Amy was a shapeshifter? It's not something I could sense at all."
He fidgeted uncomfortably. Oh, Christ, here we go…
"I sensed it within her, because I am also a shapeshifter."
The Shanka-witch's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But you just said that shapeshifters derived from shamans. Shamans are human. You're a demon."
He tightened his arms around his chest. God, why did he always feel like this when he thought about his heritage? Why couldn't he just let it go?
Because your own family never let it go.
"I am half-Dessec. My father was human."
Mary shuffled her chair around a bit, and when he turned to look at her, she was staring at him with unrestrained curiosity. "Well, that explains it."
Fuck it, this woman really unnerved him. "Explains what?"
"Why you're so loopy over her. You're two shapeshifters that are blood-bonded, right? Is she, er, your mate? Is that what shapeshifters call it?"
"No, that's werewolves and werecats again, and for someone who's only just discovered shapeshifters exist, you're being pretty careless with all your whims."
"See, you're being all loopy again."
"What does that even mean?"
"Tetchy, with a little bit of crazy thrown in."
"Look, there's nothing 'loopy' about it, okay? I only met her last week—"
"Last week?!" That was Elena. "But you're bonded."
Now both women were staring him down. He found himself looking at the men for help. Karl had don't-drag-me-into-this face, and Gwain looked like a kid that got too excited about playground fights. So much for brotherly support.
"I had no choice. She needed to meet with my tribe. My tribe don't leave their cosy little safe dimension. The only way she could meet with them was to have some essence of demon in her, and even then I had to persuade them to let a human into their world – humans are banned from the Dessec dimension.
"If she hadn't been a shapeshifter, there would have been no bond formed at all, but…" He sighed. "She is a shapeshifter. So our shifter blood mingled and … there you go. I didn't know for sure that she was a shifter until our blood mixed, and believe me, I kept that quiet from my tribe – they don't love shifters."
"You didn't know for sure?" asked Elena, incredulously. "So, let me get this right … you suspected she was a shapeshifter and you still gave her your blood knowing that if you
r suspicions were true, you would both be bonded? For eternity?"
It didn't sound so good when she put it that way. "It's not for eternity," he mumbled.
Oh, yes it is, purred his cat.
"Why didn't you just ask her? And what about Amy? She just went along with it? She must have sensed something about you that was like her."
"I actually don't know about that," he said, feeling sad for some inexplicable reason. "Usually, a shapeshifter can sense another from a mile away, but with Amy … it was so vague … maybe she didn't know what she was … or is. As soon as I knew, I didn't let her out of my sight. I travelled all the way back here with her. From the way she was acting, I suspect she doesn't know she's a shifter. I was going to talk to her about it, but one thing after another happened and the opportunity never presented itself."
"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Elena. "This is awful!"
Pueblo cringed.
"She didn't even know what she was and you bonded with her?"
Elena was fuming.
Mary erupted into fits of laughter.
"Mary!" hissed Elena.
"I'm sorry," hiccupped Mary, as she tried and failed to hold her laughter in. "It's just … I so want to see Amy flay you alive when she finds out!" She descended into further hoots and guffaws.
"All right, everyone," Gwain cut in, still looking far too happy for Pueblo's liking.
Enjoyed that, did you? Fucking sadistic angels…
"Pueblo, it's my understanding that shifters naturally tend towards a handful of guises that come to them the most easily, is that correct?"
Pueblo nodded.
"A 'guise'," Gwain explained to everyone, "is the name given to a form that a shapeshifter uses." He turned back to Pueblo. "Do you have any idea what Amy's natural guises are?"
"I don't know for sure—"
Mary let out another howl beside him.
"Ooo, quick, better bond with her so you can be sure," threw in Elena.
"It wasn't like that," he growled, his face growing hot with anger.
