by H B Lyne
'Hi,' Eyes said softly, not wanting to startle her. She glanced up at him and nodded. 'We're going over to meet the Wrecking Crew at sunset. Are you up for a thorough scout after that?'
'Yeah of course.'
'What are you doing?' He moved over to her and crouched down to examine the map. It was rapidly filling up with tiny markings, resembling Flames' old one.
'Looking at the boundary. I know it so well now, like the back of my hand. But it's different out there on the ground, you know. I wanted to get a more academic feel for it.'
There was a thick red line marking the edge of Lightning Lord territory. It followed some of the main streets and the edge of Redfield Park. But over in Crossway there were no neat and tidy lines in the landscape to follow. It was a sprawl of curved roads and big houses, and they had drawn their territory boundary right through the middle, cutting across roads and through gardens. This was not a boundary that had been negotiated, either diplomatically, or through years of border skirmishes. This was a rough and ready line in the sand that said “Do not cross”. Eyes wondered where the Wrecking Crew drew their boundary with the Witches, and how they had come to it. Tensions with their neighbours had always been so fraught, Eyes really didn't know much about them or their struggle with the Witches. He would change that.
'Weaver suggested I talk to you about your birth parents.' He cast a sideways glance at her. She stiffened but kept her gaze resolutely fixed on the map.
'Right, yeah. Sorry, I should have told you as soon as I found out. My dad was Blue Moon. Flames-First-Guardian had noted my change in the Scroll Archive and had to have seen my parentage. So he knew who my dad was, knew he was a lost pack mate. He never said.'
'I see.' Eyes nodded. Stalker's voice was too casual, too unconcerned. She was faking disinterest. She had to be immeasurably hurt. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she closed her eyes for a moment.
'My mum was Wrecking Crew though. I wondered if their relationship might be the cause of the animosity between the two packs, somehow.'
'Maybe, or maybe it pre-dates them. Rust might know.'
'Yeah, I thought that too. I don't know if I'm ready to probe further though. It was a shock to find out and I need time to process it before I go further. Does that make sense?' She looked at him, her eyes wide and glistening. Eyes nodded solemnly.
He turned his attention back to the map. It extended over most of Runmead and Fenwick, and Eyes looked over those areas now. The shop that the Witches claimed was marked in Stalker's handwriting. She had noted other details about their territory, but there was a large gap in the north. Eyes tapped it.
'You haven't scouted this yet?'
'No, not yet. I want to ask the Wrecking Crew if they're scouting that area. I didn't want to accidentally run into Fury on Witch turf and end up having a fight.' She rolled her eyes and Eyes held back a chuckle.
'Well you can do that later.'
'Sure.'
Stalker was really engrossed in the map, though her thoughts were tumbling over her parents, so Eyes left her to it.
As the sun set, the Lightning Lords set off for Redfield Park, on foot. The air was warm, with a cool breeze that lifted Weaver's long hair and made Eyes' knee-length coat billow out behind him. It was a new moon, and Eyes could feel Stalker buzzing with energy, itching to shift and run through the night.
The park was quiet. The last of winter's dead leaves blew across the grass with each gust of wind. Eyes led the pack out into the centre of the wide, grassy space and came to a stop under the dark purple sky. He felt prickles all over his skin when the Wrecking Crew entered the park, before he could even see them. They approached, emerging out of the darkness with Rust leading them.
'Eyes,' he said, with a curt nod.
'Rust, thanks for coming,' Eyes replied. 'First of all, I wanted to apologise for any trouble caused on your territory by the fear demons that were drawn here recently. We discovered a new occupant at my house, The-Knight-of-Shadowed-Fear. He appears to be raising an army.'
'I see.' Rust crossed his arms over his chest and scowled in Eyes' direction. 'And what are you doing about it?'
'We'll deal with him in due course. For now we have a more pressing issue. The Witches.'
Sky Runner leaned close to Rust and whispered something. Eyes watched the two of them carefully, but Rust was a difficult man to read. He gave a nod and she stepped back, her gaze cast out to the tree line.
'The attack on your house seems to have changed their behaviour,' Rust said, choosing his words carefully. 'We've had no skirmishes with them since and the border has been far too quiet. I take it the same is true for you guys?'
'That's right,' Eyes replied. 'I'm convinced they're preparing for a major offensive. I want to beat them to it.'
'Have you been scouting Fenwick?' Stalker asked Sky Runner.
'Only the border. Have you?' Sky Runner cocked an eyebrow.
'Yeah. I didn't want to head too far north and risk bumping into any of your people.'
Eyes thought he caught a glimpse of something dangerous in Fury's eye as she glared at Stalker. He was wary of their enmity, it could cause a serious problem for the alliance of their packs.
'You've been going right into their territory?' Rust snapped, gaping at Stalker. Eyes held up a hand to settle the tension.
'We're preparing for war, Rust. Scouting is essential.'
'Are you mad? What if they catch her?' Rust turned his anger on Eyes.
'That's extremely unlikely, with Stalker's unique skill set.' He allowed himself a small smirk, but quickly reined his amusement back in. 'I trust her, and if anything were to happen to her we would deal with it. I would like you to be able to trust me.'
'Hmm,' Rust huffed. 'We'll see. Stop being reckless and give me a reason to trust you.'
'Well, if we're going to take on the Witches together you will have to trust me.'
'I haven't agreed to that,' Rust said warily.
'You will,' Eyes said with a small smile. 'How would you like to help build a special vehicle?'
'A special vehicle?' Rust raised an eyebrow and leaned a little closer. Eyes had his curiosity. Now to exploit his greed.
'Claws, do you have the sketch?'
Claws stepped forward and slid the rolled up paper from his jacket pocket. He passed it to Eyes, who unrolled it and handed it to Rust. 'If you can acquire a van, and fit the parts, we'll share it with you. We can pay you very well for the parts and the work.'
Rust shifted his weight and glanced at his pack mates. Eyes watched as Rust considered the offer. His eyes feasted hungrily on the sketch.
'How much are you willing to pay?' Rust's gaze darted up from the sketch and fixed on Eyes.
Eyes glanced at Wind Talker, who gave a discreet nod. They still had most of the money left that they had taken from the meth lab, and Wind Talker had been keeping it safe at the house.
'A hundred grand.' Almost all of it. A neat, round number. There were almost certainly other uses for that money, but Eyes needed the Wrecking Crew. If this is what it cost, then so be it. Wind Talker let the black bag slide off his shoulder and tossed it into the gap between their packs. It landed heavily on the grass and Rust regarded Eyes carefully, before stooping to peer inside. He drew a sharp breath through his teeth. Other members of the Wrecking Crew exchanged gleeful glances.
'We have a deal,' Rust said. He extended his hand and Eyes took it with a silent sigh of relief.
'Excellent.'
'Do you have a plan yet?' Rust asked, folding the sketch roughly and tucking it into his jacket pocket.
'It's coming. I have the Glass Wolves on board too, so I'll be in touch to coordinate our efforts.'
'You managed to get Theodore Harris in on this?' Rust asked, the surprise evident in his voice.
'I did.' Eyes lifted his chin, satisfied with Rust's reaction.
'Wow. Okay then. I look forward to hearing more from you. You have my number. We'll get to work on acquiring thi
s.' He tapped his chest where the sketch was secured. 'You,' he jerked his head towards Stalker. 'Be careful, okay?'
'I will,' she said, with a trace of humility in her eyes. 'Thanks.'
Sky Runner cleared her throat and looked imploringly at her Alpha. Eyes smiled and looked away discreetly.
'I could probably help with the scouting.'
'Probably,' Rust said slowly. 'But I think we'll leave it to the foolish, for now.'
Eyes felt a flash of anger, partly from himself, but mostly from Stalker. He grasped her wrist to hold her back. Rust chuckled. He picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He turned on his heel and the others followed him across the park, Sky Runner taking up the rear with an awkward backward glance at Stalker.
Stalker held up her free hand in the shape of a phone and held it to her cheek. “Call me” she mouthed. Sky Runner stifled a laugh and nodded slightly, before turning and jogging after the rest of her pack.
'Don't,' Eyes hissed in Stalker's ear. 'Don't encourage her to disobey her Alpha. Rust isn't like me.'
'I know,' she replied, tugging her arm free of his grip. 'I won't. We're friendly, that's all. It can't hurt to talk to her more about what she's seen from her border.'
'Okay,' Eyes replied, reluctant to believe her. 'Be careful out there tonight. I'll see you in the morning.' He gave her a brief hug, which she grudgingly returned.
'Yes, Dad.'
He let the jibe go and led the others back the way they had come, while Stalker shifted into her fox form and scampered away towards Fenwick. It had been a good day's work. Now he just needed to come up with a watertight battle plan that would have made Fortune proud.
Chapter Thirty-One
Stalker-of-Night's-Shadow
Her paws padded softly on the tarmac. The night folded around her, hiding her. The northern part of Fenwick was unfamiliar to her, the streets were wide and lined with small trees. Houses stood back from the road and short parades of high-end shops interrupted the residences periodically.
She sniffed the ground and the walls as she jogged. Stalker rounded a corner and caught the faintest scent of a Witch on the wind. She hesitated, one paw hanging in mid-air. The scent was hours old.
Stalker walked forward, sniffing even more carefully. Perhaps she could follow the scent and find the headquarters that they so needed to locate. She glanced up and saw a strange bundle of sticks hanging from the lamp post beside her. They formed the rough shape of a person and were tied together with black ribbon. The lamp post stank of the Witch. This was their sign, their warning to go no further. Stalker felt the magic of it prickling at her senses. But she had to go on, she had to follow the trail.
The warning subsided as Stalker walked past the lamp post, and she gave her head a short shake to get rid of the remaining doubt. She pressed on, carefully following the scent. It grew stronger, and she passed another macabre stick man. This one was tied to a hanging shop sign, too high to catch the eye of the average passer-by.
Stalker ignored the nagging voice that told her to turn back. She pursued the strengthening trail, occasionally ducking out of sight of passing car headlights. The scent began to get clearer, and it was naggingly familiar. She kept her nose to the ground, moving slowly on. The scent made her think of family, it reminded her of someone close to her, yet it was slightly different.
The next stick marker that she came to was hanging by the neck from a small tree by the roadside. Twisted around the twigs was a thick lock of dark blond hair. It smelled of the Witch she was tracking, but also someone else, the source of the familiarity. It smelled of Weaver. Stalker stared up at it, unblinking. She could only see the hanged man, everything beyond it was out of focus.
The warning was clear: go no further, or Weaver dies. Did they know she had been on their territory? Or was it a general warning just in case someone from the Lightning Lords should be doing precisely what Stalker was doing? It was all the more reason to press on. She would not be intimidated by this. She was clearly on the brink of discovering something important about them and their territory.
The ominous stick man swung slightly in the breeze. Stalker forced herself to look away from it. She was at the end of a wide street, with an even wider road crossing it just a few yards away. The orange street lights cast their eerie glow on the young trees that lined the two streets. Houses stood behind high walls and hedges. At the end of the street were large green stretches on both sides of the road, distancing the grand houses from the adjoining road and the factory opposite. Her eyes focused on the building properly for the first time, finally free of the spell that kept her from seeing it.
It was an old factory, set back from the road behind a tall chain link fence. The once grey stone was now dirty and partially covered in a layer of moss. It had been abandoned for years and nature was reclaiming it. Yet Stalker caught the sound of voices on the wind, and the unmistakable stench of a pack of female shifters.
She darted away from the road, clinging to the shadows of the wall of the end house. She ran swiftly to a spot just opposite the gates into the compound, and crouched down in the shadows to watch.
There were flickering lights inside some of the glassless windows. Stalker couldn't make out the conversation, but it sounded as though someone was issuing orders, presumably the Alpha. After a while, two shadowy figures emerged from the side of the building and moved towards the gate. They were talking animatedly and one of them laughed at something the other had said. Stalker hunkered down, willing the night to mask her. As the two young women passed under the street light, their faces bright and smiling, Stalker's breath caught in her fox throat. Their faces were forever etched in her memory, their likeness to one another unmistakably making them twins. The same twins that she and Eyes had killed.
When the coast was clear, Stalker turned tail and sprinted for home. She leaped over fences, bounded down alleys, and traversed rooftops on a direct line for Grove Street. She shifted form in the alley at the end of the road and ran into the house gasping for breath. It was late, but Eyes was sitting in the kitchen talking quietly with Weaver. They both looked at her in alarm as she charged into the kitchen, not even trying to keep quiet.
'The Witches we killed are alive.' She strode to the sink and poured a glass of water. She turned to look at their stunned faces, and gulped down the cold liquid.
'Excuse me?' Eyes whispered.
'I found their base, at least I think I did. An old, overgrown factory in the north of Fenwick. There are some serious wards around the place, but I got through them. I saw the two supposedly dead Witches coming out. The one from St. Catherine's, and the one from your house.' She looked at Eyes. She avoided looking at Weaver as she shared the other news. 'They're threatening you, Weaver. I found a stick person hanging by the neck, with your hair wrapped around it.'
'What?' Weaver snapped, her eyes wide. Her hand went immediately to her hair and stroked it protectively. 'They cut some of it off when they captured me. I guess they kept it. That's gross.'
'There's something else.' Stalker paused, unsure if it was wise to go on or not. 'Weaver, do you have a sister or a female cousin?'
'A sister, yes. Why?'
'I think she's with them. I picked up a scent that was familiar, but I only managed to identify it when I found your hair. She had probably been the one to put the signs up. I'm so sorry.'
'It's not entirely unexpected,' Weaver said, her voice distant. 'I prayed to Artemis not to let it happen, but I knew it was possible.'
'Hang on,' Eyes said, a frown creasing his brow. 'What do you mean, the dead girls aren't dead? How can that be?'
'I don't know. But I bet Last-Breath-Echoes does.'
Stalker slept badly that night, plagued by dreams of the dead rising from their graves. The face of the girl she had killed haunted her, as fresh as the night she had committed the act. Three months of recovery undone in an instant. She sensed Eyes sharing similar nightmares, and saw the other dead girl through his eyes in
the moment that he had slaughtered her on the landing in his house. When she woke, her feelings of guilt and regret were mingled with his rage and thirst for vengeance. She found that she couldn't quite meet his eye as they moved around the house. He seemed to be having the same problem. On reflection, she hadn't really missed the telepathy much.
Once the pack was refreshed and gathered together for the morning briefing, Eyes made the call they had to make, and put his phone on speaker in the middle of the kitchen table. Stalker watched the lit screen with Last-Breath-Echoes' name on it, hardly daring to breathe. Finally the ring tone ended and a sleepy voice responded.
'Hello? Eyes?'
'Hi. Sorry to trouble you so early.'
'I was on the night shift, so was just getting to sleep. Don't worry about it. Is there a problem?'
'Not exactly. I need to know what happened to the girl who was killed in St. Catherine's last December, after she left your care.' Eyes glanced warily at Stalker, but she ignored him and focused on the phone. Flashes of the fight troubled her mind and she dug her nails into the underside of the table to keep the tension from her jaw.
'Oh, well, her body will have been sent to the crematorium in Fenwick.'
'Are you certain? Do you remember or would you need to check paperwork?' Eyes asked anxiously.
'I remember, I always remember what happens to those cases. I make a mental note.' Echoes yawned loudly, and Stalker could just make out the quiet squelching noise of her rubbing her eye. Her voice was distant, but that was no different to when she was wide awake.
'I see. And what about the other girl from that family? The one that was removed from the scene last month by Theodore's associates?' Eyes was being deliberately vague. Stalker understood why. They couldn't be sure who might be listening to the call.
'That one never passed through my hands. You'd have to ask Theodore. What is this about?'
'I saw something that I would have thought impossible last night,' Stalker said softly. 'Those two girls, walking, talking and laughing.'
