by H B Lyne
'We have business to discuss,' he said gruffly. 'Regardless of Mr. Harris's doubts, we are at war. Clydeswell and Arlston in the west have been lost to the Furies and Odin knows what happened to Gyllas Dig, no one has heard anything out of there for weeks.'
A ripple of surprise and anger ran around the circle. Stalker listened carefully, determined not to let her emotions cloud her judgement. 'The rats that were driven out of St. Mark's in December surfaced in Thornton in the south, taking it from the Factory Boys.'
Stalker swallowed hard and felt eyes on her from all around the group.
'The north coast is vulnerable too,' Fire Talon said. Everyone looked at him. Stalker noticed Crimson roll her eyes. 'Trust me, we are being flanked. Someone is organising Poseidon's Chosen to mobilise and come ashore.'
'The Spiral Hand?' Ragged Edge asked, his voice deadly serious. Stalker was relieved that someone was taking Fire Talon seriously.
'Maybe,' Fire Talon replied with a shrug.
'There is certainly someone of that cult moving in Caerton,' Ragged Edge said. 'We've known for some time. The signs are all there. There is almost always one of them in a large shifter community like ours and you never know who it is.'
'We thought when we exiled Father Ash that we would have stamped out that threat,' Red Scythe continued. 'But it only lay dormant, and it does seem that the perpetrator is becoming active again.'
Stalker kept her nerves, but her mind was racing over Rhys and what she knew of Father Ash. There was some evidence that Father Ash was perhaps not keeping to his exiled state, the photographs of Last-Breath-Echoes in his house suggested that he had been sneaking into the city and spying on her. But Stalker didn't want to mention it and incriminate him when he could easily have hired a private investigator to take those pictures. Rhys was a whole other matter. She had believed him when he denied being Spiral Hand, but he was a Fury and her judgement was most definitely impaired when it came to him.
'The seers are reporting visions with a common theme,' Ragged Edge said. 'Death and bones. This is almost certainly related to an increase in incidences of the dead not moving on properly.'
'That's right,' First Strike said. 'There have been reports across the city of an increase in ghosts and a problem with the veil not correctly closing around cemeteries and so on. There are gaping doorways to the Underworld in places.'
'With the loss of the King-of-Glass-and-Steel, the city is barely held together,' Red Scythe said. 'We have seen an enormous amount of chaos since his disappearance. Last October a large section of St. Catherine's disappeared for several days.'
Stalker almost laughed, but the serious faces and low mutterings around her stopped the laugh from escaping her lips. The elder was entirely genuine and she mused over the idea of an area of the city disappearing. What happened to the people? Did they vanish too? Did they come back? Did they remember anything? 'There's one other thing,' Red Scythe continued, his voice low. Everyone fell silent and leaned a little closer to listen. 'There seems to be a cannibal cult in the city.'
Stalker felt her stomach lurch and she glanced around to see the collective reaction of shock and revulsion.
'We don't know much, yet,' Ragged Edge went on. 'It has been reported that some humans are turning up dead with certain organs missing, livers mostly. Just keep your eyes open.'
There was a pause in which it seemed no one knew quite how to respond. Red Scythe waved a hand, as if swatting away the discomfort.
'Go and enjoy yourselves,' he said in his gruff voice.
The group dispersed and First Strike walked in step with Stalker away from the fire. She felt bad about knocking him back before and took his hand. He smiled down at her.
'So a chunk of St. Catherine's just disappeared, huh?' she asked with a bemused grin. He nodded.
'Sort of a shame it came back really,' he replied and they both laughed.
'Seriously though, were the humans aware of it?'
'No, there were some cases of amnesia but it was mostly just us that knew anything was out of the ordinary. If you asked a random member of the human public where such and such was, they just had no idea what you were talking about.'
'Like it just never existed?' she asked, coming to a halt and looking at him with a frown.
'Yeah. That sort of thing has happened before. There's this wonderful old story about a shifter called Howl-of-Elsewhere, who tried to trick the city by stealing the concept of direction.' First Strike lit up with excitement and Stalker had to laugh at him. He suddenly surprised her by capturing her lips in a passionate kiss and lifting her off the ground. She allowed him this time, enjoying the feel of his lips on hers and his strong arms holding her up. He carried her to a dark corner, away from prying eyes. She caught glimpses of figures moving around the fires, minor brawls breaking out, all good natured, probably, and she was aware of drumming and music and people dancing. But it was all a blur, background noise that seemed a thousand miles away while she was in his arms.
Chapter Three
Fights-Eyes-Open
The crowd was dispersing rapidly and Red Scythe was climbing down the steps from the dais with Crimson at his side. He looked old suddenly, having seemed so strong up on the dais until Theodore had stuck his oar in. Eyes rushed forward to help the elder down but he brushed the young Alpha aside with a scowl.
'I can manage.'
'Of course,' Eyes said with a slight bow of his head. 'Forgive me. I wanted to tell you that I agree with everything you said up there. The packs must unite against the Furies if we are to hold Caerton. I want to help.'
'Ah, the enthusiasm of youth,' Red Scythe said with a sigh. Crimson smirked and took her leave. 'How do you think you can help?'
'I don't know yet,' Eyes admitted. 'Is there a precedent for the packs working together?'
'Not these packs,' the elder said, glancing around at the revelry erupting around them. 'But in ancient times, yes of course. In times of great need it has been done. But I fear we will never get the Watch and the Glass Wolves to cooperate with one another.'
'Why not?' Eyes asked, his curiosity piqued.
'A long-standing rivalry, a clash of ideologies. The Watch represents everything old and traditional. The Glass Wolves represent progress and reformation.'
'The Glass Wolves worry that the Watch will side with the Furies if they turn up with the heir, don't they?' Eyes asked, his glance flickering briefly to the empty throne on the dais, an ominous reminder that Caerton's shifters were supposed to have a single leader. Red Scythe nodded solemnly. 'Do you share that concern?' Eyes probed.
'The Watch have only ever served the city of Caerton, I fully expect them to continue to do so. Now if you will excuse me, I have business with my people.' Red Scythe dipped his head to Eyes and Eyes returned the gesture. He watched the old man stride away, leaning heavily on his huge weapon, like a staff. Odin's Warriors were seemingly drawn to him, like moths to a flame. His ambiguous answer left Eyes with no more clue than he had previously.
Eyes turned his attention to locating Theodore. He was standing on a slightly raised section of the vast cave, surrounded by his pack and a few other shifters, including a few of the Hellsclaws, the Factory Boys and the Alpha of the Wrecking Crew. Eyes made his way through the crowd and eased himself into the tight little circle around Theodore.
'Trust me, what we really need to worry about are the demons that are threatening to overrun the city in the absence of the King-of-Glass-and-Steel,' Theodore was saying. 'Decay and entropy have completely devoured Camwell and I doubt St. Catherine's will ever be quite the same. The Fyrd bring us these terrible warnings, but they aren't city dwellers, they haven't seen what it's like here.'
'But they are out there, amongst the Furies,' Rust called out, a deep frown of concern on his brow. Eyes watched him carefully. 'They say they have seen the Furies mobilising, preparing for war.'
'They say they have seen this. How do we know this to be true?' Theodore replied.
'
What about the Blue Moon?' Eyes asked, raising his voice over the noise all around them. The little group turned their attention to him. He held firm, he didn't let his hesitation show. 'What happened to my pack was a big, bold strike. Not some minor border skirmish. We have those on a regular basis with the Wrecking Crew, yet here we stand, facing each other.' He gestured to Rust, who gave him an appraising nod.
'Don't get me wrong, Eyes,' Theodore said. 'What happened to your old pack was devastating. We were all shocked and saddened by it. But isn't it possible that it was entirely focused on the Blue Moon rather than part of a bigger campaign?'
Eyes didn't reply. He tried to wrap his head around the idea that the attack may have been personal. It hadn't really occurred to him before. He had assumed that it was the first move in a war, part of some bigger strategy. Why else would a pack other than their neighbours have been involved? Had it just been the Witches who attacked, then maybe it could be put down to a border row or personal attack. But the main perpetrators had been the Phoenix Guard, a pack from well outside the city limits, specialists who had been brought in to take out the Blue Moon.
'What were you saying to us about the ley lines?' Vengeance-of-Steel asked Theodore as Eyes' attention came back to the present.
'Something has been walking them, changing them. I am certain of it. There are megaliths and standing stones throughout Caerton, connecting the ley lines and something is very wrong with them. The area of St. Catherine's that disappeared contained one of these ancient stones.'
A knot formed in Eyes' stomach. Something about what Theodore was saying nagged at his memory.
'Walking the lines?' he repeated. Theodore looked at him carefully for a moment and then nodded. 'A while ago? Or recently?'
'Both. Why?' Theodore's shrewd eyes locked onto him and Eyes felt deeply uncomfortable.
'My pack dealt with a demon in the winter who said he had been walking the lines. We didn't know what he meant at the time.' Everyone looked at him, their eyes hard and accusing.
'I see,' Theodore said slowly. 'But you dealt with him?'
'Yes,' Eyes replied. 'Decisively.'
'Well, what's done is done. I'm working on a plan to restore the ley lines. I hope I can count on some of you to cooperate.' There were nods and murmurs of assent among the group.
Rust began to move away and Eyes quickly went after him.
'He's wrong about the Furies,' Eyes said quietly. Rust kept walking but threw him a brief glance.
'I know,' he snapped.
'Look.' Eyes caught his arm and pulled him to a halt. Rust looked down at Eyes' hand and Eyes promptly released his grip. 'I know we've had our issues, but I think it would be in both of our packs' best interests if we agreed to at least warn each other if either of us notices the Witches making an offensive move.'
'I suppose,' Rust replied grudgingly.
'I want you to know, if you call on us for aid in a fight, we will come.' Eyes waited expectantly for the offer of reciprocity. Rust cocked his head and looked hard at Eyes for a moment, then rolled his eyes and walked away. Frustration rose in Eyes' chest.
'Hey!' The shout came from close behind him and he turned away from Rust's retreating back to see Lightning Claw of the Hellsclaws running after him. She stopped and grinned at him. 'Passionate speech back there.'
'Thanks,' he said, giving her a brief smile. She had the biggest hair extensions he had ever seen. Far too much of her skin was visible and he didn't quite know where to look.
'Do you want to join me for a drink?' she asked, with an inviting smile on her full lips.
'I think that would be an error in judgement,' he said, stepping back. Lightning Claw looked at him shrewdly, a glint in her eye.
'On whose part? Yours or mine?'
'Both,' he said with a snort of laughter. 'I'm married.'
'I know, I've seen your ring. She's human though, right?'
'Yes. What difference does that make?' He was puzzled and intrigued.
'Secrets, lies, deception, putting her in great physical danger every time you leave the house, not to mention when you're in it. That doesn't exactly make for a healthy marriage. It won't last. You should be keeping your options open. When you're ready you should call me.' She gave him a seductive smile and turned to walk away. He watched her go and some particularly carnal thoughts popped into his head but he pushed them aside.
He strode off to locate his pack. He spotted Wind Talker talking with the Storm Riders, while Weaver and Claws were engaged in an animated discussion with the Scroll Keepers. Stalker was nowhere to be seen. The cluster of Odin's Warriors had broken up and dispersed amongst the other shifters and he saw many of them around the cavern, but not his pack mate. He needed a friendly face, someone to save him from himself. He fought back the image of Lightning Claw's curvaceous frame sashaying away from him and went in search of alcohol.
There was a huge table at the back of the cave, filled with food, and next to it were several huge barrels of beer and mead. He poured himself some mead and turned to watch the crowd. Music was pounding out, drums and flutes mainly but there was chanting too. He watched people dancing, their bodies silhouetted against the fires. It was a sea of sweat and he thought he could make out more than one couple writhing together erotically amongst the moving crowd.
Lightning Claw was in there, dancing with her twin sister in a way that was perfectly tailored to tease the onlookers. She caught his eyes and beckoned him to join them. For a split second he considered it. She had a point about his relationship with Chloe. Maybe the right thing to do would be to leave his family, to protect them. It was what Fortune had wanted him to do. Damn it, Fortune. Why did he have to enter his thoughts?
Eyes knocked back his drink and strode over to Weaver and Claws.
'Hey there,' Claws said, patting Eyes on the back. 'You okay?'
'Great, thanks,' Eyes lied, badly. 'Where's Stalker? I think we should be making a move.'
'What's wrong?' Weaver asked.
'I don't think it's a good idea to leave the entire city unguarded while we all get drunk. Come on.' He strode towards the exit, full of frustration and felt the two of them falling into step behind him. He led them past Wind Talker and indicated for him to follow. 'Where is Stalker?'
'Don't worry,' Weaver said. 'She's a big girl, I'm sure she can find her own way home, or a place to crash here if necessary.' There was an annoying smirk on her face and Eyes rounded on her.
'What's the joke?' he snapped.
'Sorry, Alpha,' Weaver said, sarcastically. 'I thought you knew by now. Stalker's involved with First Strike. She's probably with him now.'
'Great,' Eyes barked. He was struck by Stalker's freedom to do what and with whom she pleased compared to his own attempts to wrestle with temptation. 'Fine, let's go.'
A few other shifters were making their way out at the same time, apparently most packs were sending home a designated driver, of sorts, now that the formalities were out of the way, so he felt less guilty about the lie he had told to get out of there. For a moment he considered sending the others back to the party, but he wasn't sure he could trust himself to go home to his wife without an escort. Besides, their territory was on the front line. They had to defend it.
He dropped the others off at various points along their border with instructions to patrol briefly before turning in for the night and then drove quickly home. He crept into the shower to wash out the ridiculous silver hair spray and then slid into bed next to Chloe. He nuzzled up close to her, drinking in her scent and stroking her beautiful curves. She stirred and made suggestive noises, her eyes fluttered open and she greeted him with a smile and lingering kiss. He made love to her that night with more intensity and passion than he had in a long time and as he drifted off to sleep in her arms, Lightning Claw was almost entirely forgotten.
Eyes woke slowly, he could hear Amy laughing downstairs and felt the warmth of sunlight spilling across the bed through a gap in the curtains. He rolled over and loo
ked at the clock, it was already late in the morning and he let out a low groan. He had slept more deeply than he had in months, so he must have needed it, but he hated to feel like he had wasted any of his precious time with his family before needing to go to the pack. They would need to debrief from the night before and share what they had each learned from speaking to different shifters.
He stared across the room for a while, as the sleep lifted from his eyes. Movement in the mirror on the wardrobe door caught his eye and he saw Perfection-of-Flesh reflected there, admiring his muscular physique. It was a strange sight, a glimpse across the veil that didn't normally happen. It was reassuring to see the envoy of Heracles still there, keeping his family safe and healthy. Chloe had recovered from the rats' infection quite quickly, thanks to the fae's help and Eyes was extremely grateful.
Chloe's voice reached him, along with the sound and smell of frying bacon. His stomach made a sudden rumble and he rolled from the bed, pulled on some pyjama trousers and wandered downstairs to find food and his family.
Amy ran to him as he reached the bottom of the stairs, squealing and lifting her arms for him to pick her up.
'Hey there, munchkin,' he called as he scooped her up into his arms. 'What are you up to?'
'Mummy's making brekkie. I had cereal and spilled milk! Look!' She pointed at the stain on her pyjama top and Eyes chuckled. He carried her to the kitchen and plopped her onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Chloe was cooking, her hair still ruffled from the previous night and the smile she greeted him with told him she was still thinking about it.
'Hi,' she said.
'Morning. Did you sleep okay?' he asked, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
'Hmm, yes thanks. You slept late. You must have needed it.' She gave him a wink and he chuckled as he nuzzled into her neck.
'Daddy, when is my birthday?' Amy asked as she carefully coloured in a colouring book.
