Tides of Spring: A Dark Shapeshifter Urban Fantasy (Echoes of the Past Book 3)

by H B Lyne

  'We couldn't take you back to your family in this state, even if we knew your mother's address,' Claws said softly, as if reading his mind. Eyes nodded slowly and allowed them to lead him inside. The van was already there and he heard Wind Talker banging about in the kitchen once they entered the poky hall. Stalker and Claws got Eyes to the sofa in the living room and sat him down gently. He had spent an unfair amount of time on this sofa like this, physically and emotionally broken.

  He let his head drop back against the cushions and he fell into a deep sleep.

  The next morning, Eyes woke slowly to the sounds of movement all around him. He had slumped sideways in his sleep and felt an uncomfortable ache in his neck, though his injuries from the fight seemed to have healed. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, he felt stiff but mostly all right. He heard Wind Talker's low voice in the kitchen, and Weaver and Stalker were stacking up the cushions that they normally slept on in the corner of the room.

  'Morning,' he croaked. His throat throbbed and his lips were dry and caked in blood. The women looked at him and both tried to rustle up smiles. He stood up slowly and pointed towards the door. 'I'm going to go and freshen up.' He limped from the room, his left leg still not quite healed and dull from the position he had slept in. Climbing the stairs took great effort, each step seeming to get higher and higher, but eventually he made it to the bathroom and shut the door. He stripped off his stiff and sand-covered clothes and ran the shower, stepping into the cubicle carefully. The water pressure was terrible, but it was hot at least and he welcomed the spray on his face and in his hair. He rinsed out his mouth and spat blood down the drain; dirt and dry blood ran off his body and swirled grotesquely in the shower tray. He planted his palms on the cool tiles and felt the water pounding on the back of his neck, easing the aching muscles. Time drifted by and he had no idea how long he had stood there when there was a quiet knock on the door.

  'Are you all right?' Weaver asked softly from the other side. Eyes cleared his throat.

  'Yeah, fine. I'll be down in a minute.'

  'Can I come in and talk to you?'

  'Just a minute.' He moved slowly, still aching all over. Once the shower was off and he had a towel secured around his waist, he opened the door. A blast of cold air entered the room and cleared away a little of the steam that hung in the air. Weaver looked awful, her eyes were all puffy and red and her fingernails were bleeding in places. 'Come in.' He held the door wide for her and closed it again behind her. She sat down on the toilet seat and he leaned against the sink, afraid to sit down in case he couldn't get up again.

  'I'm so sorry,' she whispered. 'I feel like I let you down.'

  'Hey,' he said, leaning towards her. 'No, no you didn't.'

  'I should have counselled you better, been there for you more, shared more of the burden. I let it get to the point where Wind Talker had just cause to challenge you. Once he did that it had to play out and now...' Her voice cracked and she covered her lips with her bloody fingers.

  'I should have done what Fortune wanted me to do,' he said softly. As the words left his lips he felt as though a weight had been lifted. Tears ran down his face and he hurriedly brushed them aside. 'If I hadn't been so distracted I could have led this pack properly from the start and they wouldn't have been hurt.'

  'You don't know that,' she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. 'The Witches might have attacked them anyway, even if you had left them. They would still have seen your daughter as a valid target for revenge after we killed their Alpha's daughter.'

  'And now we've killed another one, as well as our only lead in potentially figuring out why this whole vendetta started in the first place.' He sighed and closed his eyes. What had Hidden Voice found out while he was spying on Caerton's shifters? Was it still relevant? Could he have known what started this bitter enmity between the Blue Moon and the Witches?

  'Will you bow to him?' Weaver asked, her voice barely audible. He looked at her carefully.

  'Of course,' he replied. 'That's the way it must be. He won the challenge.'

  Weaver nodded slowly.

  'Okay then.' She stood up and moved to the door. She looked back at him over her shoulder. 'If you ever decided to challenge him back, I would support you.' She slipped out of the room without another word and Eyes stood still, his gaze fixed on the door.

  Eyes dressed himself in some spare clothes that he kept in a bag in the bedroom, one in a little line of such bags tucked under the bed, even Wind Talker hadn't unpacked any belongings into the wardrobe. Despite all they had done to make the house feel like home there was still a feeling of this being temporary, or the niggling warning that it may be necessary to abandon the place at a moment's notice.

  He went back downstairs and approached the kitchen warily, not quite ready to face his new Alpha. Wind Talker was leaning against the kitchen sink, his arms crossed over his chest.

  'It should be simple enough, we'll go as soon as everyone's ready.' He stopped and looked hard at Eyes as he entered, his face went rigid and he gave Eyes the curtest of nods. Eyes inclined his head slightly and went to pour himself some coffee. He couldn't look at him, anger flared up inside and the glass coffee jug clinked against his cup as he poured with shaking hands.

  'What's the plan?' he asked through gritted teeth.

  'We're going back to the healing house today to repair the veil,' Wind Talker replied stiffly.

  Stalker got up from the table and crossed the kitchen, placed a plate of fried food in front of Eyes and gently patted his shoulder.

  'Have mine, I'm not hungry,' she said. He nodded in thanks and she moved away. 'I have to work later.'

  'Fine,' Wind Talker and Eyes said together. They exchanged awkward glances and Eyes felt everyone looking at him. He picked up the plate and moved swiftly to the table to eat, not looking at anyone. Stalker gave his shoulder another squeeze then left the room.

  After a hurried breakfast, with everyone waiting for him, Eyes followed the others out of the house and into the van. Claws drove with Wind Talker up front and the others sat in the back. There was the unmistakable odour left behind by Hidden Voice and Eyes wrinkled his nose. They sat in silence as the van rocked on its way to the other house and Eyes' thoughts drifted away, scanning everything that had happened in his life since he found out what he was.

  'It's weird,' Stalker said softly as they stood around the small bunker. 'It's like a deliberate doorway, not a tear.'

  'It will have had to have been,' Weaver answered. 'For the girl to get through. Humans can only cross the veil if there's a doorway.'

  'I'm guessing she's under some sort of hypnosis,' Claws suggested and everyone looked at him. 'I mean it's not conscious is it? None of it. The mother is worried, but doesn't know why. There's no way she would have just accepted us coming in here if she knew what was hidden. The girl's drawings suggest she's retaining some of it, but doesn't understand it, she probably thinks it's a recurring nightmare, coming down here.'

  It made perfect sense, Eyes gave an appraising nod.

  'Let's cross over and see if we can change things in Hepethia now, shall we?' Weaver suggested. Together they crossed through the doorway into their own world, back into the pitch black cavern. A shudder ran through Eyes, he felt the darkness clawing at him and was disoriented by having his sense of sight removed. Weaver grasped his hand and squeezed it tight. 'Focus,' Weaver urged.

  Eyes looked upwards and imagined the blue sky breaking through the darkness above. A tiny crack appeared in the darkness and slowly it spread, growing longer and wider. He was vaguely aware of the distant walls crumbling and turning to dust. Light spilled into the space from all around, and beneath their feet bright green grass sprouted. He looked around and saw huge crystalline forms bursting up out of the ground, surrounding them with struts of pink and white. On the grass, in the centre of their little circle, was a white circle, like paint on a football pitch, the doorway was still there. All around them was unrecognisable and when Eyes
peered into the distance, towards where Hidden Voice's well-prison had been, the ground was smooth and flat.

  The small birds that had covered the house on this side of the veil were still circling overhead and some landed on the crystals and watched the Lightning Lords. Eyes looked around, wondering what they needed to do.

  Claws suddenly clapped his hands and then waved them at the birds.

  'Shoo,' he shouted. 'You don't belong here anymore.' The birds took flight and joined the ones that were soaring overhead and gradually they all flew away.

  'Guys,' Stalker said, her voice breathless. 'It's amazing.'

  'Nice job,' Wind Talker said, looking around with something that might have been awe. His attention snapped back to the task in hand and he began rummaging through his satchel. He pulled out a small bottle of water and some herbs. Eyes watched as Wind Talker crushed the herbs between his fingers and sprinkled them onto the small white circle on the ground. He then dribbled some water over the top and knelt on the floor, placing his hands just outside the circle. 'It is our will that this doorway be closed forever.'

  The ground sizzled slightly and then the grass gave way to smooth crystal and the circle was gone. Eyes looked up and found Stalker's face. She was looking around, her expression expectant. Her eyes settled on his and she smiled.

  'It's done. The door is gone and the veil is perfectly normal now.' Stalker looked around at everyone, beaming. Weaver grinned too and finally released Eyes' hand.

  Movement on the ground nearby caught Eyes' attention and the circle of shifters broke up as he moved towards it. There was a strange hissing noise and suddenly the ground quivered and a tower of snakes rose from the short grass. Eyes stepped back reflexively before he realised that it was Whispering Iasis. The fae formed before them and let out a long hiss.

  'It is done, you have paid the price. Your wife will be released.' The fae looked at Eyes and he let out an enormous sigh of relief.

  'Thank you, thank you.'

  'Please,' Weaver spoke from just behind Eyes. 'If you don't mind, you knew there was a problem here. Do you know how it came to be?'

  The fae trembled and hissed again. Eyes took a small step back, remembering the sting it had inflicted upon Wind Talker.

  'Yesssss,' it hissed.

  'Can you tell us?' Weaver urged.

  'The price for such information would be too high for you.'

  'Try us!' Claws yelled. But it was too late, the tower of snakes had disintegrated and disappeared back into the earth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stalker-of-Night's-Shadow

  The Lightning Lords crossed the veil, back into the little bunker in the basement of the house. It was suddenly dark again, a stark contrast to the bright sunshine in Hepethia. Wind Talker tipped some water onto the floor and scrubbed out the chalk circle with the sleeve of his jacket. The veil was totally healed and the tomb on the other side was no more. Stalker felt relief wash over her, though it was tinged with frustration at Whispering Iasis's parting line.

  'Do you think we need to do anything about the girl?' Claws asked.

  'I suspect she was receiving messages through the doorway,' Wind Talker said, more certainty in his voice than Stalker felt was appropriate. 'Now that it's closed nothing can lure her across.'

  'Let's get rid of the key to this room anyway, just in case.' Stalker held up the little key and stuffed it into her pocket. 'I'll throw it in a bin on the other side of the city.'

  'We'll check on the family in a week or so and make sure they're okay,' Eyes said, looking pointedly at Wind Talker. 'Won't we?'

  Wind Talker smiled awkwardly and nodded. The five of them filed out of the bunker, Weaver coming last and locking the padlock on the door. They quickly tidied the house, leaving it as they found it and went out to the van.

  'I have to go to work now,' Stalker said, breaking the tense silence.

  'I have to go to Chloe,' Eyes said, suddenly perking up as if he had just realised that she should now be herself again. He set off to collect his car without a second glance back. Stalker caught sight of Wind Talker looking irritated, his tongue between his teeth. It was going to be hard for him to get control over the pack, none of them seemed pleased with what had happened and Stalker remained fiercely loyal to Eyes. Anger at Wind Talker's betrayal stirred again in her chest and she knew she had to leave before it spilled out of her.

  'See you later,' she said, mainly to Claws. She grabbed him and gave him a hug, which he reciprocated. She turned to Weaver and embraced her next.

  'Hang in there,' Weaver whispered into her ear and Stalker patted her pack sister on the back in acknowledgement. She released Weaver and looked furtively at Wind Talker. He wasn't getting any warmth from her any time soon. She lifted her chin defiantly and walked away.

  Stalker arrived at the dojo feeling agitated and bustled about in the locker room for as long as she could, changing into workout clothes and securing her dha in there while she taught her classes. She could hear her students arriving and with a deep breath, she went across the corridor into the studio to join them. Her first class was beginners' judo and Stalker relied heavily on her vial to keep her temper at bay. The class flew by quickly, her pulse rarely settling but there were no major incidents. Her next class was sure to be more challenging, as it was her Jieishudan class, a more advanced self-defence class, frequented mostly by older teenagers and young adults. Things tended to get more heated as there was a lot more contact in this discipline.

  Her judo kids left and the next class filed in while Stalker was getting a drink and wrapping her fists up ready for the class. As she was diligently winding the strip of fabric around her knuckles, with her back to the room, she felt a familiar prickle up her spine and caught a faint whiff of the shifter's scent. A snarl rose in her throat as she identified the intruder and she turned slowly to see Fury strolling in with her normal students. Stalker glared at her and she glared right back, a smirk playing on her lips.

  Stalker shook her head in disbelief and chose to ignore Fury's presence for the time being. This was not the time or place for a turf war, Fury must know that. Stalker wanted to let this play out and see what Fury wanted, besides to rattle her.

  'Warm up drills,' Stalker snapped. 'Now.' The students, nearly a dozen of them, started doing sprints back and forth along the length of the studio, some of them casting wary glances at Stalker as she paced near the door. Her eyes never left Fury, who was joining in half-heartedly. 'New girl!' Stalker shouted over the pounding of feet on the floor. Fury scowled at her. 'Pick up the pace.'

  Fury started running faster, occasionally shoving another student in passing. After a minute of sprints, Stalker whistled and the class came to a halt and gathered around her. 'Pair up and spar, please folks.' She caught Fury's gaze and beckoned her over as the rest of the class hurriedly paired up and spread out. Fury ambled over and stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

  'Hi, then,' she said in a lazy drawl.

  Stalker raised her fists and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. Fury rolled her eyes and copied her. 'Are we really going to do this?'

  'What the hell are you doing here?' Stalker hissed, ignoring Fury's question. She threw a punch, which Fury easily blocked.

  'Delivering a message,' Fury replied, returning the attack. Stalker dodged and weaved around behind her. Fury whipped around, her long, thin braids streaking through the air, the beads at the ends of them smacking together. They circled each other, occasionally throwing punches with ever increasing strength, but neither one of them landed a hit. Stalker was only half aware of the rest of the class, mostly they were getting on with what they were meant to be doing but a nearby pairing were only vaguely following instruction and were watching the two shifters warily.

  Stalker lunged in for an attack, one eye still on the watching humans and Fury grabbed her right arm and twisted it up behind Stalker's back, holding her firmly in an arm lock. She yanked Stalker close and snarled in her ear from
behind. 'Get control of your territory,' she hissed.

  Stalker pulled hard against the grapple, but she was held fast and her felt her arm straining in Fury's grasp. She winced and held in a cry of pain, aware of the class gradually turning their attention to her.

  'What are you talking about?' she snarled under her breath.

  Fury grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her head back. Stalker whimpered as pain shot through her forearm and up into her shoulder. If Fury pulled any harder she would break her arm.

  'Runmead is swarming with fear demons, thanks to you lot. They're spilling over from St. Mark's and Crossway. Sort it out, bitch.' Fury's voice was low enough that only Stalker could hear, but everyone was watching them now. Stalker struggled in vain against Fury's hold, frustration mounting and threatening to overflow. There was a way out of this, but it was absolutely unacceptable in front of a room full of innocent humans.

  'Ah, ah,' she whimpered, the pain in her arm growing even stronger. 'Okay, message received loud and clear.'

  Fury's grip loosened ever so slightly, it was enough for Stalker to wriggle her good arm free and she grabbed hold of Fury and threw her hard over her shoulder. She landed with a heavy thud on the mat and jumped quickly to her feet. She stalked from the room without looking back. Stalker gently cradled her arm and looked carefully around the studio at her students. Every eye was on her and confused, fretful expressions met her gaze. She felt utterly humiliated, to be so thoroughly bested in her own specialist class in front of everyone. Her cheeks burned and her arm throbbed; it was probably sprained.

  'Are you all right, Ariana?' a nearby student asked, his voice full of concern.

  'Fine, thanks,' she replied, unable to hide the embarrassment she felt. 'Carry on.'

  She held back tears of anger that threatened to spill as she barked orders to her class for the next forty minutes and the moment the class was over she bolted from the room and went to hide in the staff locker room. Her arm ached and she felt grief, rage and humiliation in equal measures. Hot tears spilled from her aching eyes and she covered her mouth with her good hand to conceal the vocal sobs that she couldn't halt. Her shoulders shook as the huge emotions spilled out of her.