Brothers of the Fang

by Sharon Joss

  Mike nodded, taking in the view. Sloping hills of precisely-aligned trellises stretched out around them in the warm morning light. Not even the sound of a passing car out on the main road reached them. “It’s quite a place. And so peaceful. I never realized there was a winery here.”

  “Winery is a bit high-sounding for what we do here. Mostly, we’re growers. The Van Cleves sell most of the harvest to other wineries, although Ambrose has romantic notions about our estate label.”

  “Oh yeah? You sell it locally?”

  Gordon shook his head. “It’s too precious to sell. It’s reserved strictly for our valued guests and donors. We hold back less than two percent of the harvest for the making of Glamour. We only use the grapes harvested from vines growing closest to the wards. The ward-infused soil imparts the grapes with unique properties and exceptional flavor.”

  “Wards? You mean like Fae wards?”

  “I admit my birthright, but my powers have outgrown my humble origins.” Gordon bowed his head modestly. “I consider myself an earth Mage, Mike. I created these wards more than three hundred years ago as a way to stabilize the boundaries between the Van Cleve estate and the lands of the High Tor Fae. Now I maintain them to ensure they remain active.”

  He’s foresworn. Using earth magic against the Fae, the guardians of the land, was taboo. In the eyes of the Fae, Gordon was a traitor. Even he knew that.

  Gordon pointed to the craggy hills beyond the estate. “When Ambrose originally purchased the land, it overlapped territory claimed by the Fae of the High Tor. At the time, the indigenous clans were extremely war-like and hostile. Given the proximity of the Tor, the extreme territoriality of the Fae, and the continuous fluidity of their boundaries, the land was considered undesirable. Ambrose and I negotiated with the Fae. We got them to agree to the establishment of permanent boundaries between us. The wards delineate the blood oath boundary. Neither party can cross the wards without breaking the agreement.”

  Mike frowned. The talk of blood magic made him uncomfortable. He waved his hand over the ground beneath the split-rail fence marking the property line, then squatted down and grabbed a handful of loose soil in his fist. Oddly, the soil felt warm. “You mean you can feel me doing this?” From the hoot of Tehuantl’s derisive laughter in the back of his head, he felt certain that the shaman didn’t think much of Gordon’s abilities or the wards.

  “Yes, I can.” Gordon nodded. “Think of the estate as having an invisible skin that acts the same as surface tension on a bowl of water. Anything that touches the water sends out ripples. I am sensitive to the ripples, and thus alerted to any attempts to cross the wards. The wards reach high into the sky and deep into the soil. The wards are most sensitive to Fae blood, but not even birds or earthworms pass undetected.”

  Mike indicated the forked stick the Mage was holding. “What’s that for?”

  “It’s a dowsing rod. I use it to test the wards. Allow me to demonstrate.” Gordon walked along the inner fence line, holding the forked ends of the stick in each hand, parallel to the soil. After thirty feet or so, the stick dipped toward the earth. The Mage slipped the stick into his back pocket, and held his cupped hands palm-down over the dirt; his eyes closed in apparent concentration.

  “The wards are weaker here.” He took a double handful of dirt out of the plastic bucket mouth beside him, and sprinkled the moist soil over the area, then laid his hands over the spot for a moment, his eyes shut in concentration. When he was finished, he took up the twig again, and it held it’s parallel position over the dirt. “That’s better.”

  “So the magic fades over time?”

  “On the contrary. This is earth magic. The earth is a powerful, living entity. I know how to tap into that power and put it to my own use. But like any living thing, it is affected by its environment. Earthworms and grubs ingest the warded earth and distribute it into the soil, widening the borders and diluting the wards at the same time.” Gordon offered him a fistful of dark soil from the plastic bucket mouth. “Feel this.”

  Mike held out his hand to receive the warded soil. A buzz of electricity thrummed around his fingers as soon as he touched it. He flung the dirt away, his skepticism evaporated. “Yikes.”

  Gordon returned a sly smile. “You must have more than a little Fae ancestry in your family tree. I suspected as much. Most cannot detect the presence of my blood spell.”

  “How the hell do you sleep at night?” He rubbed his hand against his shirt, trying to relieve the itch in his fingers. As he fought not to show his growing discomfort, he wished there was water nearby to wash off the taint that still clung to his skin. He looked at his hand, but there was no mark.

  “I am attuned to disruptions, rather than normal flow. Much of it, I confess is a background hum. Disruptions occur in the presence of certain ah, essential elements.”

  “What, like crosses and garlic?”

  He laughed. “Don’t believe everything you read. No, I’m talking about specific earth elements. Fae blood, for one. Silver, for another, but I can sense any dense concentration of metal passing through the wards. I continually fine-tune the sensitivity of the wards as modern technology evolves. Obviously the automobile and electronics have presented challenges over the years, and I’ve had to make adjustments. The outer wards are less sensitive than the inner wards around the house and the park. I like to think that my earth magic is at least as sensitive as the manufactured security capabilities on the estate.”

  I doubt that. Even Tehuantl’s scorn came through loud and clear. “You’re telling me the wolf pack and the security technology aren’t as effective your wards?” Ambrose had told him the Alpha and several of the Mythica pack members had been handpicked for their military experience with security systems and electronic protection. The surveillance system he’d seen provided twenty-four hour vigilance. “Surely you’ve got to sleep sometime.”

  Gordon stiffened. “No surveillance camera or security technology in the world can detect the presence of magic. I was fully aware, for example, when you turned your truck onto the private drive leading to the estate this morning. Conversely, the wards muffle the sounds of the park to the outside world and screen certain areas of the estate from view to casual observers.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “The parking lots, for one. Certainly the hedges and woodlands keep curious eyes at bay, but neither the hedges nor the trees are actually as pervasive or dense as they appear. During Prohibition, I used a stronger veil on the building that housed the estate’s distillery quite effectively. Again, something no technology is capable of doing.”

  He had no answer for that. In spite of Tehuantl’s distain, Gordon’s use of blood magic instinctively repulsed him. The guy gave him the creeps. He decided he did not want the tour of the estate after all. He made an excuse to leave and pretended he didn’t see Gordon’s extended hand when he said good-bye. He didn’t want the Mage to touch him.

  * * *

  Mike headed over to the hospital. The nurse told him Tom was sleeping, but would not say whether or not his condition had improved. He asked for directions to Dr. Sarah Powers's office, but was told she was out of the office on Wednesdays, so he settled himself on the chair next to Tom’s bed.

  In spite of Tehuantl’s contempt for the Mage’s abilities, Mike had to admit that his encounter with Gordon had unnerved him. He reminded Mike of a couple of the dealers he’d known. Like Hector Clemente. They both had that same sort of superior attitude; the same wily smile. Like they knew something that you weren’t ever going to be smart enough to figure it out; and some day that something would come around and bite you in the ass.

  If Gordon was Fae, why would he be working for vampires? They were traditionally bitter enemies. Why side with them against his own people? And he’d been so arrogant when he’d talked about his own abilities; all the while minimizing his dark repurposing of Fae magic.

  The way he talked about the wards sounded a lot like what his father had
told him about the Fae portals into the Tor. The presence of earthworms helped explain why the Tor boundaries had always been so variable. Tom had lived here all his life. Maybe he knew something about it. He decided to ask him about it when he woke up.

  Tom’s breathing was slow and steady. He looked better today. Maybe he’d dodged the bullet. Maybe they wouldn’t need the wolf doctor after all. That might not be a bad thing. He had no intention of letting that sharp intellect of hers get any further peeks inside his head. He didn’t trust himself around her. Funny; Yolanda didn’t make him uncomfortable at all. Why couldn’t she have been the wolf doctor?

  Tehuantl’s voice sounded in his ears. This is not about you. Look at him.

  With a start, he realized that all of Tom’s bruises were gone. Not just faded, but completely gone. That can’t be normal. No wonder he looked so peaceful. He closed his eyes as the guilt washed over him. Will you ever forgive me for what I’ve done to you?

  CHAPTER 15 : RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

  Mike thought Felix Tolland was the very last person on the planet that anyone would expect to be the right-hand man of a vampire. He looked like he’d be more at home surrounded by his stamp collection than in this leather and chrome office, surrounded by an impressive display of Japanese fighting swords mounted in Plexiglas cases along the walls.

  “You don’t have much experience with vampires, do you?”

  “Well I’ve never been bitten, if that’s what you mean.” And I'd like to keep it that way…

  The blood steward eyed him over the lenses of a pair of half-moon glasses. “How old do I look to you, Mr. Bane?”

  Felix’s name suited him perfectly. He looked like a freckle-faced, pencil-necked geek. His thin hair had no color to speak of, although it could arguably be called blonde. His skin looked like he’d spent his entire life under florescent lighting.

  “Twenty-eight, maybe thirty, I guess.”

  “I was born in 1735. Youngest son in a family of six boys. I worked as a clerk in my uncle’s accounting firm. I had no prospects, no money, and was dying of consumption when I agreed to become Ambrose’s first blood steward, and have remained as his Number One to this day. In exchange for a little of my blood on a regular basis, I was returned to perfect health and have prospered beyond my wildest dreams.”

  Perfect health my ass. The man had teeth like a meth addict. “I hear vampire spit is more addictive than crack.”

  Felix’s fair skin reddened. “Blood stewards receive a minute quantity of an anti-coagulant from the vampire’s saliva as it feeds. The side effects include a resistance to disease and an extended life for the donor, as long as the exchange is regularly maintained. Together, Ambrose and I have built Mythica into a model nest envied by vampires the world over.”

  Mike shook his head. “Aren’t you worried Ambrose will turn you into a vampire?”

  “Not at all. We have a perfect partnership. I have all the benefits of immortality without any of the restrictions on diet or sensitivity to the sun. Besides, I am far more valuable to Ambrose in my present condition that I would be as one of his offspring. Shall we proceed?”

  “Sure.” He ripped open the plastic packaging of one of the company’s black polo shirts, like Chaney had worn.

  “You will be employed by Mythica as an independent contractor. As a security consultant, you will report to Vince Dazak, the Alpha wolf of the Mythica pack. He will have complete control over your assignments. You will be given ‘lone wolf’ status within the pack. This means that you will abide by pack rules, but given the length of your contract, not required to officially join. There will be a short formal acceptance ceremony, where you will kneel before the Alpha with one or more members of the pack as witnesses, and you will agree to obey the Alpha and present your neck in a simple dominance ritual. Vince will say a few words, and you’ll answer affirmatively. You’ll accompany the pack in a ritual hunt, and then you’re in. Should you violate any pack covenant prior to the first hunt, any and all members of the pack may punish you with impunity, up to and including death. After the hunt, you will have auxiliary pack membership, and by pack law, only Vince will mete out discipline. Do you understand?”

  He nodded grimly. The reality of what he was about to do hit him harder than he’d expected. Joining a wolf pack, even as a formality, was something he’d never imagined doing.

  He’d been tested for ALVS several times, but the results had always come up negative. But being a shape shifter was one thing; joining a pack was like coming out of someone else’s closet. He was exchanging one lie for another. This lie, once told, couldn’t be taken back. It was a dangerous step. So far, the courts had ruled it was illegal to hunt and kill werewolves without a writ of execution, but it wasn’t a crime for werewolves to kill each other.

  “Got it.” He took off his shirt and pulled the Mythica polo over his head. “How do we do this?”

  “The rules are simple but Vince is a stickler, as well he should be. Above all, shifting into beast form at any time while on duty without explicit permission is forbidden. No exceptions. Like Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch, Mythica is an exclusive private club. We cater to humans. We entertain as many as a thousand guests per night, four nights a week, except during the nights of the full moon.”

  Mike whistled in surprise. “I had no idea.”

  Felix nodded. “We get all kinds here, from geeks to rock gods. Many of our members have planned their vacations a year or more in advance. They come here to have a good time and mingle with monsters. They want to be scared and thrilled, not bloodied. While we do try to satisfy our guests every possible expectation and fulfill every supernatural fantasy, we cannot allow them to be harmed or threatened in any way. Vince will fill you in on the specifics, but essentially, we look to our security staff to anticipate potential problems and keep disruptions in the park to a minimum.”

  Mike opened the glossy brochure Felix handed him. “What kind of disruptions are we talking about here?”

  “Nothing too exotic. Guests are not allowed to bring weapons into the park, but most come in costume and occasionally something is missed. We also serve alcohol, and have had the occasional problem with drug use on the premises. While we do not report the violator, the guest is escorted out of the park, and their membership is cancelled permanently. If there is nothing more, I believe we are done here.”

  “Ambrose mentioned that he would take care of my godfather’s medical bills.”

  “Already taken care of it. These copies are yours to keep.” Felix slid a manila folder across the desk.”

  Relief flooded through him. “Thanks.” He stood to leave.

  “I strongly suggest you make a concerted effort to be friendly to the other pack members. It will make it easier for you to issue a legitimate Alpha challenge if there are other members of the pack who will support you.”

  “In other words, obey the rules, don’t piss off the pack.” He felt certain Striper Dave could help him make friends, and he’d already met Silas. On the other hand, Trick and his cronies might cause problems. “So how do I go about issuing the challenge?”

  Felix leaned forward conspiratorially. “I caution you again about revealing any of what we are about to discuss with Vince or anyone else. Vince has been part of the Mythica family for decades. Ambrose has no desire to hurt the man or deprive him of his dignity by circumventing the accepted means for replacing him as Alpha.”

  “Understood. When do I fight him?”

  “Once you have completed the initiation hunt with the pack, you are free to issue a formal challenge at any time. This is to be a fair fight for Alpha succession. When Vince yields to your superior abilities, he will offer his bared neck for your mercy. You will release him and he will turn over his keys, badge, and access codes and be escorted out of the park. Before the pack convenes for the ritual hunt to cement your leadership, you will bare your neck in submission to Ambrose’s choice for Vince’s replacement.”

  “And who wou
ld that be? Won’t I have to fight him too?”

  Felix shook his head. “Vince will be naming Trick Adaire as his new Beta wolf tomorrow. As long as you yield to Trick before the pack hunt, Trick will become the new Alpha. You do understand, of course, that we would like to have this business resolved quickly; well before the upcoming summit.”

  Trick. Of all people, why that guy? “Not a problem. I’m not interested in stretching this thing out any longer than I have to. The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Felix seemed pleased. He led the way out of his office to the reception area, where Mike immediately spotted Yolanda seated behind the desk. “We’ll get you micro-chipped after you talk to Vince. With the chip, you’ll be able to access all of the public and business areas of the park. Vince will determine your duty assignment. The private grounds of the family estate and vaults are all off limits, but there is a clubhouse area reserved exclusively for pack use. It has a gym, showers, and locker area as well as access directly onto the Tor for pack hunts.”

  “Sounds good. I guess I’m ready to talk to Vince now. What’s he like?”

  Felix’s eyes slid away. “He’s loyal to a fault, but a stickler for detail. Don’t piss him off and don’t underestimate him. I suppose you could say that about Ambrose and myself as well, come to think of it.”

  “Where do I find him?”

  “I’ll take him.” Yolanda came around the desk and slipped her hand though his arm. She winked at him and his heart did a happy dance. She was wearing pink lipstick. Even Tehuantl and the cat seemed to approve. Tall, dark, and voluptuous. Just my type.

  “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.” Her hands were warm; her grip powerful.

  “I’m all yours.”

  She sighed theatrically and tossed back her long hair. “They always are.”

  CHAPTER 16 : WHERE EVEN THE DEAD HAVE FUN