by H B Lyne
That bothered her and she paced the border restlessly for the next two hours, frustrated and confused. Wind Talker relieved her in the early hours of the morning and she returned to Grove Street to get some sleep. She didn't sleep well, the gnawing sensation of something forgotten or missing kept her from settling properly and she gave up once the rest of the pack were up and about.
Eyes left early for the hospital, Claws had to work and Weaver went out to take her turn on patrol. Stalker spent most of the day tidying up the garden, while Wind Talker slept and then worked on the inside of the house. Stalker had to work that afternoon and it was harder than it had been in a long time to hold back and not hurt her students.
She threw one girl in her judo class so hard that she tumbled across the floor into another two teenagers who were practising together.
'I am so, so sorry,' Stalker said, running over to help the kids to their feet. They looked at her warily and no one volunteered to be used to demonstrate any moves for the rest of the class.
When her Banshay pupil arrived for the last class of the day, Stalker decided it would be best to leave her own dha in the bag and focus on building some basic skills, much to the disappointment of her young student.
Stalker left the dojo at eight o'clock and walked wearily south into Crossway to meet the others. The sky was dark and there was rain in the air, though it was only light drizzle. Stalker usually liked the spring rain in Caerton, she liked the smells of cut grass and wood smoke that usually came with it, but it was still only mid-February and not much life was stirring in the city yet. Halfway there, her phone rang and she answered without really looking to see who it was. 'Hello?'
'Hi.' First Strike's deep voice caught her by surprise and she faltered in her stride.
'Hi,' she replied, immediately thinking of Rhys.
'Are you all right? I gather something went down at the weekend. I hadn't heard from you so I was a bit worried.'
'I'm sorry,' she said, guilt rushing to the forefront of her mind. 'Yeah, I'm fine, we're all okay. Just shocked really. I'm sorry, I should have let you know I was okay.'
'Oh no, don't worry about it. I mean we're not, we never said we were, you know, a couple, I guess. I don't expect you to always check in with me or anything.' He sounded flustered, which was most unusual for him.
'Okay, well I'm still sorry that you were worried. Everything okay over your way?' The Hand of God also shared a territory border with the Witches, but to her knowledge, they had never encountered one another. There was always the chance that would change, however.
'All quiet here, thanks for asking. If you need anything just let me know.'
'I will. Thanks. Best not to say too much more over the phone, but about what was said at the festival, about uniting everyone,' she glanced around to make sure she was alone. The street was quiet.
'Yeah?' First Strike said, urging her on.
'It will be necessary. Can I count on you and yours?'
'You can always count on me and Crimson, and well, if she orders it the others will obey.'
'Okay, thanks. I have to go now. See you again soon.'
'I hope so. Be careful.' His voice was loaded with caution and Stalker took it seriously. As she hung up the phone she thought about what he had said about his pack obeying their Alpha. Sky Runner had said the same thing. Back in the days of the Blue Moon, Stalker would have done whatever Fortune told her to, in part because of how new she was, but not just that. His leadership was compelling and charismatic. The Lightning Lords were different. Eyes was their Alpha, but almost only by default and they felt held together by obligation sometimes, rather than deep loyalty and commitment. She had no problem sneaking off to meet Rhys or patrol in the middle of the night when she was meant to be sleeping, she would always go her own way and speak out if she had a problem with what the pack wanted to do. She thought of her pack mates as equals and their structure as vaguely democratic; if that was unusual for shifters then maybe it would ultimately make the Lightning Lords stronger than the others. But perhaps it was their biggest weakness.
She arrived at Eyes' house to find the others waiting outside next to his car. There was police tape all over the house and the front windows were roughly boarded up to secure the place. As Stalker approached she felt prickles all over her skin and she came to a halt in between Eyes and the front door. She sighed as she felt the condition of the veil around her.
'There is a rip in the veil, I'm sorry, Eyes.'
'That's okay, I thought there might be. We can fix it.' He strode to the door and unlocked it. The five of them went inside cautiously. The smell of smoke still clung to the torn curtains and glass was scattered all over the floor throughout the living room and hallway. Eyes turned the lights on and they began a cautious sweep of the downstairs, checking to see that the house hadn't been looted and that there was no one hiding in wait for his return. Stalker was the first to move upstairs, she crept along the landing to the door to Amy's room. There was no trace of what had happened, no sign of Perfection-of-Flesh, or the dead Witch, just a few tiny pieces of glass that had found their way up the stairs on the soles of shoes, and the furniture in Amy's room was a little askew.
'We should cross the veil,' she called out softly, confident that the others would hear her but not wanting to raise her voice, doing so felt unwise or disrespectful somehow. Eyes was the first by her side, the others followed up the stairs. Stalker took Eyes by the hand and tried to give him a courageous and reassuring smile, but it faltered on her lips. 'Are you ready?'
Eyes nodded without saying a word and together they crossed through the torn veil. Stalker's breath caught in her throat. The house had bled through the veil, creating a dark copy of itself. It was dark, but some moonlight filtered in through Amy's bedroom window. The carpet was soaked in blood and tiny specks of gold hung in the air in the bedroom where Perfection-of-Flesh had been killed, a lingering echo of his sacrifice. Little demons of fear and death scurried away at the arrival of five shifters, some diving under Amy's bed and others scuttling down the hall.
On the landing where the Witch had died the blood was splashed right up the walls in a grotesque spray pattern as well as staining the light carpet. Where her body had lain was a small but hideous demon of blood, making sickening choking noises as it bubbled and oozed on the floor. Stalker approached it carefully and drew one of her dha. She drove the blade into it and the demon fell silent before disintegrating into a pool of blood.
Eyes looked at it as he passed, a cold look in his eyes, and he led the way down the stairs. There was movement in the hallway and sounds of crunching glass and fleeing footsteps. Eyes moved into the living room and Stalker followed. The curtains billowed in the breeze but the room was almost pitch black. Eyes tried a light switch but nothing happened. Stalker gripped her dha firmly as she followed him through the living room and into the dining room.
The dining table was on its side against the wall, much as in the human world, but where it should stand in the centre of the room was a cluster of fear demons, huddled together like a frightened family, unaware that their hiding place had been overturned. The Lightning Lords ignored them and Eyes led them through to the kitchen at the back of the house.
There was a little more light here, moonlight entered through the un-boarded windows as it had upstairs, and it flickered as if shining through rustling trees outside in the garden. Where Eyes' father had been killed there was more blood and a demon much like the one upstairs, but hovering over it, almost invisible but for the glinting moonlight on metal, was something much worse. Eyes stopped dead and the others came to a halt beside and behind him, Stalker at his right hand. She could feel the power of the demon before she could even see it clearly. It seemed to shimmer with the moonlight but as it became aware of them it solidified and turned to face them.
It was a tall knight in plate mail, its helmet had a visor that covered the face, but where the eyes should be was pure darkness and Stalker just knew
that if the visor were open she would see nothing.
'Greetings,' the knight said, his voice deep and quiet. 'Let's begin our work.'
Chapter Nine
Stalker lowered her sword slightly and eyed the demon carefully. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end and goose bumps had erupted up her arms under her jacket.
'Knight-of-Shadowed-Fear,' Wind Talker said, his voice strong and confident. Stalker glanced at him and saw the fear in his eyes, but his voice did not betray him. 'What work, may I ask?'
'Well, more of this would be most welcome,' the Knight replied. Stalker cringed, she could hear the smile in his deep voice. Eyes tensed up by her side and she quickly placed a steadying hand on his arm.
'Not a chance,' Eyes said, his jaw clenched tight.
'The last of your kind that I agreed to work with were quite accommodating,' the Knight said politely. 'Your predecessors. I expect you to keep to the bargains I made with the Blue Moon. But if violence is off the cards then no matter, there is much that we can accomplish together that does not involve more human bloodshed, if that is not palatable to you.'
'It is not,' Claws said emphatically, stepping out from behind Eyes. 'Judging by your name, you are fuelled by the fear of the unknown danger, correct?' The Knight merely inclined his head towards Claws. 'An event like this should keep people very afraid for some time to come. How about you feed on that and then move on?'
The Knight seemed to expand before them, absorbing the darkness around him and spreading to fill the space. They all took a step back, except Eyes, he held his ground, looking up into the demon's metal face. Stalker's grip on her dha tightened as she waited to see what the demon was going to do.
'I'm afraid that won't be possible,' the Knight's voice boomed out, filled with darkness. 'There is a war brewing and I am here to assemble my forces. You do not have to help me but you will not stand in my way.'
Stalker's knuckles turned white as she gripped her sword more tightly. Suddenly her knees shook and buckled, a lump of terror rose in her throat and threatened to erupt in a scream. The terror coursing through her was paralysing and as she searched the room desperately she saw Weaver clutching at her chest, struggling to breathe; Claws had dropped to his knees and was cradling his head in his arms; Wind Talker stumbled back against the cupboards with his mouth agog; and Eyes stared wide-eyed and paralysed just like her. The Knight was doing this, inducing this dread in them all. Stalker tried to fight it, but it was futile. Move! she screamed at herself. Her blood was pumping through every vein at tremendous speed and her feet remained rooted to the floor.
The Knight leaned over the rasping blood demon on the floor and drew a long, rattling breath. Darkness passed from the blood demon into the Knight's metal-covered mouth and Stalker watched, transfixed. The blood demon shrank away to nothing until it was completely absorbed into the Knight-of-Shadowed-Fear.
There was a sudden gust of wind and the back door blew open, slamming back against the kitchen cupboard behind it and rattling the glass in the window panes. The Knight shimmered in the moonlight and then disappeared out through the door with surprising speed and agility, with just the faintest clinking of his metal armour. The shadows seemed to follow him, leaving the house a little brighter.
Seconds passed and the terror gradually ebbed away. Stalker slumped sideways, her knees weak with exhaustion. She looked around at the others and found them grabbing on to things to steady themselves, and exchanging worried glances. Weaver clung onto Claws and her eyes met Stalker's, they were wide and afraid.
'He was clearly here waiting to see who summoned him,' Wind Talker whispered, a tremor to his voice.
'We didn't summon him,' Eyes hissed.
'Not on purpose,' Weaver said softly. Stalker looked at her again, she still didn't quite seem herself. 'But our actions here, and those of our attackers, sent a signal throughout the realms and he answered it. The rip in the veil allowed him to enter Hepethia from his own demon realm.'
'Can you fix it?' Eyes asked, his head whipping around to Wind Talker.
'Yes, of course,' he replied. 'I need a few things. My supplies were destroyed but I am working on replenishing my stocks. I should be able to do it tomorrow.'
'Can we try to force him back through the tear before repairing it?' Claws asked, still holding onto Weaver.
'We could try,' Stalker replied. 'But all he has to do is unleash that crippling terror on us again and we'll be just as powerless against him. We need to fix the veil to stop anything else coming through, and let him go about his business for now. We'll work out a way to banish him as soon as we can.'
'Another problem, for another day,' Eyes said wearily, rubbing his brow.
The pack crossed back into the human world and drove back to Grove Street. It was a sombre night and when Stalker woke the next morning the mood hadn't changed.
'Where are we with things?' Eyes asked as they ate a subdued breakfast.
'I have to work this morning,' Claws said, swallowing his food awkwardly. Eyes shot him a venomous look and Stalker felt a prickle of tension run through the room. 'I have a case that needs my attention. A stolen mask. It's important, and should pay well.'
'Fine,' Eyes replied curtly.
Stalker was the first to finish eating and dashed from the room, eager to escape the maudlin atmosphere. She stepped into the shower and scrubbed her skin. It was her third shower since the attack, she somehow couldn't feel clean enough. The dead Witch's face kept haunting her thoughts and memories of her twin that she had killed months ago surfaced every time.
Once everyone was washed and dressed, they went their separate ways: Eyes to the hospital; Claws to work; and Weaver, Stalker and Wind Talker went back to Eyes' house to mend the veil. The house was quiet, no sign of the Knight-of-Shadowed-Fear or any other significant demons. Stalker kept watch while Wind Talker and Weaver did what needed to be done. Even in broad daylight the house seemed eerie, in part because it still looked like a crime scene. She found a broom in the cupboard under the stairs and swept up the broken glass as best she could while Wind Talker and Weaver repaired the veil the way they had at the betting shop. Stalker took the police tape off the front of the house and went at the blood in the kitchen with a bottle of bleach, grim determination and help from the others once they finished their task.
They returned to Grove Street in the afternoon and Stalker felt a little lighter, having done something to help Eyes. He arrived late in the afternoon looking tired and thoroughly depressed.
'What's happening with your family?' Stalker asked.
'Chloe is being kept in again tonight, they're running more tests and have someone coming to do a psychological assessment. They think she has severe post-traumatic stress disorder and there was talk of putting her into care. I won't accept that. I want her healed, today.' He looked pointedly at Wind Talker, who nodded slowly, his expression sympathetic.
'How about the others?' Weaver asked cautiously.
'They've been discharged and are at my mum's house. Amy's going to stay with her for now. Chloe's sister is coming to stay with them for a while to help look after them both.'
Stalker felt tears prickle at her eyes, she felt terrible for him. She knew that Fortune had wanted Eyes to leave his family and her friend Fire Talon had been forced to abandon his family too, this was why. But she understood why Eyes refused to let them go. She had no family and few close friends, but she clung tightly to her job and the parts of her that were still human. It was impossible to let them go, to do so would be to lose something so precious. She didn't want to lose sight of herself, of all of the things in her life that had made her who she was now. Life didn't have to be all about war and the supernatural, humanity was important, otherwise they were nothing but monsters.
Wind Talker led them across the veil into the garden. There was no sign of Unchained Lightning but Wind Talker strode into the centre of the garden and looked up to the sky. He raised his hands and blew out a big pu
ff of breath. Stalker saw the clouds above respond to him, they grew suddenly thick and dark and the wind picked up. A few spots of rain fell and then Stalker heard something soaring towards them, thunder in its wake. Unchained Lightning appeared over the roof tops and struck the ground, landing with a heavy thump and small discharge of static.
'You called?' their ally said with a crackle.
'I did,' Wind Talker replied. 'I need to summon a powerful healing fae and would greatly appreciate your help. Just being present, lending your authority and influence will help.'
'Of course,' the elemental said. He settled himself in the corner of the little garden and watched with interest.
Wind Talker opened his bag and pulled out a thick, white candle. He passed it to Stalker and rummaged for some other supplies. He handed out peppermint oil and some first aid supplies then sat down on the earth in the centre of the garden to crush some herbs with his mortar and pestle. With his grinding motions, a protective circle began to ripple out from him, getting larger with each circle he made with his elbow until it filled the garden. Wind Talker stood up and approached Eyes with the small bowl of crushed herbs and his knife.
'May I?' he asked and Eyes readily gave him his hand. Wind Talker cut into the Alpha's palm, Eyes barely winced. Stalker lit her candle and Weaver sprinkled the oil into the circle as Wind Talker pressed the herbs into the cut on Eyes' palm. He looked at Claws and indicated for him to come across the circle with the bandage he was holding. Claws began wrapping the bandage carefully around Eyes' hand and Wind Talker returned to the centre of the circle. He looked up at the sky and raised his knife and the bowl of herbs. 'In this act of healing I honour those beings with superior powers to heal. I honour the gods of healing, especially Asclepius, and humbly request their aid.'
Stalker heard a strange hissing noise and looked around for the source. The soil around the garden began to move and Stalker twitched in alarm. The hissing grew louder and snakes began to emerge all around them.
'Wind Talker?' Stalker whispered, unable to hide the concern in her voice.
