by H B Lyne
He peeled his gaze from the carpet and moved through the rest of the house, checking that it was secure. He paused at his daughter's bedroom doorway on his way out again and placed a hand on the door frame.
'Thank you, Perfection-of-Flesh, for your sacrifice, thank you for protecting my family.'
Eyes strode down the stairs and crossed the veil. The house had been fixed up on this side too, but a shadow hung over it, and demons lurked in the corners. He went to the kitchen and slammed his fist into the pristine worktop, cracking the marble. He roared and shifted into his Agrius form, goading the Knight-of-Shadowed-Fear. He didn't know any other way to draw the demon here.
'Do you honestly think I have nothing better to do?' The Knight's deep, dark voice echoed around the room and Eyes spun around to locate him. The demon peeled out of the shadows between the kitchen and the hallway, his enormous sword clasped in both hands and pointing to the ground. Eyes shifted back into his human form and straightened his tie.
'You're here, aren't you?'
'What do you want?' the demon snapped.
'I want to persuade you to keep your army in St. Mark's. They're spilling into Runmead and upsetting the neighbours. I need them to not be upset with us right now.'
The Knight let out a low rumble from inside his helmet.
'Why?'
'Because I intend to finish the fight that was started in this house.'
'You are raising an army too, then?'
'In a manner of speaking.'
'Will the battle strike fear into the hearts of innocents?'
'Maybe.' Eyes hoped to scare the living daylights out of the other Furies, but he couldn't consider them innocent. It was likely that residents of Fenwick would be aware of the attack, and become fearful of whatever creatures caused the noises and possible destruction of property that were bound to issue from the battle. He didn't want the Knight to grow stronger, he wanted to be able to take him down at some point, but right now he needed to bargain with the demon.
'Good. In that case, I will order my soldiers to confine themselves to your territory.'
'Do you mind me asking who your war is with?'
'The-Baron-of-Blooded-Shards.' The Knight spat the name, his voice thick with venom. Eyes blinked a few times, caught off guard. He knew that name. The pack had seen the Baron on their territory once, right after the Blue Moon were killed, but hadn't heard anything of him since.
'I see.'
'What do you know of him?' The Knight leaned closer to Eyes. Cold poured off him and seeped under Eyes' skin.
'Nothing really, just the name.' Eyes shuddered and averted his gaze from the black, empty helmet.
'Hmm, puny whelp of Artemis, why should you know of these things?' The Knight lifted himself up to his full height, his head almost touching the ceiling. Even in broad daylight, the demon sucked the light right out of the room. 'I will keep my army contained, and eagerly await the bloodshed you will inflict.'
The Knight shimmered out of sight, and Eyes slumped back against the nearest kitchen cabinet in relief. That should appease the Wrecking Crew, but the effect it might have on St. Mark's was not a comforting thought.
He crossed the veil and sighed as he looked around the un-lived-in kitchen. He took out his phone and tapped a message to Rust.
May my pack have permission to enter Redfield Park on the other side this evening?
He put his phone on the worktop and stared at it, locked in limbo between productivity and frustration.
Ok. But it's your funeral came the blunt reply. Eyes rolled his eyes, then hastily thanked Rust.
He spent the rest of the day in the unpleasant task of sorting through everyone's belongings, and as the sun dipped below the horizon he set off for Redfield Park.
The rest of the pack were just arriving when he got there.
'Updates for the day, please.'
'Stalker and I got some useful information out of Scourging Agony,' Claws reported. 'He was responsible for stealing the body from Theodore's people and returning it to the Witches.'
Eyes groaned and ran his hands through his hair.
'Okay, well at least we know. What else?'
'He claims to remain loyal to us, but I have a bad feeling about him. I think we may need to terminate the agreement.'
Eyes nodded. He had never trusted the tricky demon, nor did he care for the perversity it exhibited. He had no problem whatsoever in ending the foul creature. 'He wants to be at the battle,' Claws added.
'I see, well that might provide an opportunity for him to get caught in the crossfire.' Eyes noted the nods of agreement from the rest of the pack.
'I spent the afternoon with Spark,' Wind Talker said. 'We have some ideas for things that might help. She suggested some enhancements to the battle van as well, which I think could prove very interesting. I'd like to discuss them with Tar Peter.'
'What sort of enhancements?' Claws asked. Eyes hid a smile of bemusement as Claws looked at Wind Talker with a mix of curiosity and offence.
'Well, it's possible to get constructs to inhabit things, like that phone we found. They can use their influence to enhance machinery. A demolition construct, for example, might ensure that the front of a van has the strength and durability of a wrecking ball.'
Claws' eyes lit up, and Eyes cleared his throat to bring their attention back to the moment.
'Excellent,' he said with a wry smile.
'Sky Runner and I are coordinating patrols for the borders,' Stalker said. 'She's had no luck convincing Rust to let her join me on incursions, but she'll gather what intelligence she can through her networks and border patrols. I shared what we knew about the factory. Do you want to let the Wrecking Crew know about the walking dead?'
'Not right now, I want a little more information first. We need to focus on the task in hand. Wind Talker, what do you see?'
Wind Talker grasped the pendant around his neck, clasping the copper eye in his bare hand. His eyes drifted out of focus and he turned towards the park. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and he released the talisman.
'A wall of thorns, at least eight feet high. There's no way through. The thorns are covered in blood.' His demeanour didn't falter, he was as composed as ever, but Eyes sensed his apprehension.
'Well then, we'll have to enter the park here and take another look at the inside from there.' He led them under the trees that lined the roadside, away from the reach of the street lamps. He nodded to Wind Talker, who once again looked across the veil. The colour drained from his face and he quickly released the talisman. 'What's wrong?' Eyes asked anxiously.
'It's, well, it's not looking good. Are you sure you want to do this?' Wind Talker spluttered.
'Yes. Tell me more.'
'Here.' Wind Talker lifted the cord over his head and passed the talisman to Eyes. He took hold of the copper eye and his vision instantly blurred. The dark park around them faded, and imposed over it was a jungle of twisted, bloody thorns. Eerie red light cast deep shadows that were filled with glowing eyes and tiny, scuttling movements. Eyes refused to be perturbed. He walked slowly forward, searching for a clearing. He felt his pack following close behind as he edged towards the little boating lake. In Hepethia there was no lake, but there was a dip in the ground and the slopes into it were bare. In the very centre, where in the human world there was an island with a copse of trees on it, was a similar island. On it was an enormous rose bush, with hundreds of thorny tendrils reaching out from it. It wasn't in bloom, early March was too soon, but it was very much alive and writhing around. It almost seemed to be conducting the orchestra of fae and demons around it.
'I'll bet that's Crimson Thorns,' Eyes whispered, as he passed the talisman back to Wind Talker. His pack mate looked for himself and nodded in agreement.
Weaver suddenly gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth.
'What is it?' Eyes asked, turning to her and glancing around them for signs of something she might have seen.
'Don't you remembe
r? It was about five years ago now, they found bodies on the island.' She raised a hand and pointed towards the little island. 'A dozen girls had been raped and sliced up. My mum rang me daily for weeks and wouldn't let my sister out of the house. I was at university at the time and there were warnings up all around the halls of residence and university buildings, urging the female students to avoid going anywhere alone. I don't think they ever caught the person who did it.'
'There's a very good chance that's how this place was created. It would take a horrific act to shape Hepethia like this.' Wind Talker stared towards the island, half transfixed in horror and half in wonder.
Eyes remembered the case, he had been keeping an eye on it, eager to prosecute the perpetrator once caught. It had been just before he and Chloe decided to start a family. Could the Witches have done this? Crimson Thorns was reportedly allied with them. Had they made this home for her? Perhaps they had influenced a human to do the deed, rather than dirty their hands directly. That was perhaps more their style.
'We cross here and confront Crimson Thorns.' Eyes gave a firm nod. He glanced around at the others, hesitation hung on all of their faces.
'What are you hoping to achieve?' Weaver asked.
'Don't you remember what The Orchard told us? She said that Crimson Thorns would block our path to defeat our greatest foe. I want to remove that block. Maybe we can get her to ally with us, or maybe we'll have to kill her. Either way, I want her out of the way.' He saw their reluctant expressions and heard their thoughts inside his head, urging him not to blunder. 'Hey, guys, we can do this. I understand your reservation, really, but I feel strongly that The Orchard was giving us a clue, she was trying to help us. We can't ignore Crimson Thorns, or she could seriously jeopardise our plans. Trust me.'
Stalker nodded and took a step towards him.
'I trust you.'
'Thanks,' he said with a smile. He looked expectantly at the others. One by one they softened and agreed to follow him. He led them across the veil, stepping towards the lake. His foot landed on dry land in Hepethia. The gentle slope down towards the island was soft, the loose soil shifted under his shoe, but he didn't lose his footing. He stepped carefully down the slope, his pack close behind him.
The thorn bushes behind them rustled and a squawk rent the air. He stopped and looked anxiously over his shoulder. A huge black bird took flight from one of the bushes. It flew low over their heads, straight for the island. Eyes kept his gaze fixed on it as it soared right into the tangle of thorns on the island. The whole island shuddered. There was movement all around the edge of the dip. Small creatures darted out of the shadows, their red eyes glowing and casting an unsettling light into the empty space. Many of the creatures were like oversized stick insects, their limbs twitching and jerking as they hung eagerly at the edge of the slope.
Eyes took a step forward, the earth moved under his feet again, but he pressed on carefully.
'Who dares enter here?' A voice rustled up from the island.
'Eyes,' Wind Talker hissed at his ear. 'That is Crimson Thorns, but there are dual personalities. There's a fae and a demon in her.'
'So we might be able to kill the demon and save the fae?' Eyes whispered back, not taking his eyes off the squirming island.
'Yes,' Wind Talker replied. 'But we'll have to separate them first.'
Draw out the demon, Weaver's voice whispered in Eyes' mind. Tempt it.
Eyes picked his way carefully on down the slope.
'Lightning Lords,' he called out as they got nearer. 'We come to parley.'
'Why should I parley with abominations of Artemis?' The voice was layered, like multiple voices speaking at once. Eyes could sense now what Wind Talker had gleaned with his special ability.
The demon is Slice-of-Flesh, Wind Talker thought.
'Can we speak to Slice-of-Flesh alone, please?' Eyes asked. He came to a halt just out of reach of her thorny tendrils. The whole island was writhing, and the air was filled with the scent of damp soil and the metallic tang of blood.
Wind Talker was fishing in his bag for something, Claws and Stalker moved in front of him to conceal him from the demonic plant before them.
'We are never apart,' the rustling voice replied. 'We are one. What do you want?'
'Are you allied with the Witches?' Claws called out.
'Ahh, if only life were so simple,' Crimson Thorns replied. 'Simple creatures with your clear divides. One side fights another side, one wins, one loses.'
'We don't see the world that way,' Claws said, a small smile tugging on his lips.
'It's infinitely more complex than that. People are complicated, conflicted. They do bad things in the name of a good cause, they make mistakes, they redeem themselves. Perhaps we have more in common than you would like to think?'
'Perhaps,' the creature said with a hiss. Eyes looked down at the roots bursting out of the ground. Snakes were slithering up out of the soil. The imps around the edge of the pit were growing agitated, eager for a fight.
Hurry, he urged the others.
Wind Talker and Weaver moved behind him, hurriedly working together.
'My pets are so very hungry,' Crimson Thorns whispered, the threat clear in her voice.
'Did the Witches have a hand in creating this pace? And you?' Claws asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
'Agents of Megaira were here, I believe you call them Witches, yes. They brought a sacrifice for The Hunger. That was ever such a long time ago.' There was pain in her voice. Eyes saw a trickle of moisture running down one of the tall stems at the heart of the mass of tangled thorns. He sensed Stalker moving closer to Crimson Thorns, swift and silent in the dark, shielded by her shadow allies.
'Did they hurt you?' Eyes asked.
'They made me stronger.' The demonic fae seemed to double in size, as its hundreds of whip-like tendrils uncurled. Eyes held his ground, his heart hammering in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stalker duck under a sweeping vine and dive for Crimson Thorns' tangled roots. She thrust something from her hands into the mass, then rolled out of the way of the vine as it slashed the air.
Eyes took a few steps back to where Wind Talker and Weaver stood, just out of reach of the vines. Claws followed, not taking his eyes off the plant creature on the island.
'What was that?' Eyes asked, raising his voice over the mounting cacophony of the screeching demons all around them.
'A charcoal poultice, to draw out the infection,' Wind Talker bellowed over the din.
Stalker sprinted up the slope towards them. She was covered in dirt and had a cut on her cheek.
Crimson Thorns lashed out and writhed frantically, a sickening scream issued from her. The snakes were fleeing the area, slithering up the slope and heading for the cover of the bushes at the top. The red-eyed imps were in disarray, some of them scurrying away, others lurking nearby, waiting for orders. A vine whipped out of the darkness and struck Stalker on the back. Her eyes widened in the instant that she was suspended mid-stride, then she fell flat on her face. The vine coiled around her waist and tugged her back down the slope.
'No!' Eyes shouted, taking a reflexive step towards Crimson Thorns. Stalker was dragged along the dirt and then hoisted up into the air. Shift, he urged. A moment later, Stalker disappeared suddenly and the vine dropped back to the bush. Eyes searched the black sky for a sign of his pack mate, but she was either too small to be seen, or something had gone wrong. His chest felt tight as he forced himself to breathe.
There was a soft thud right behind him and he wheeled around to see Stalker standing there, casually brushing dirt off her clothes and face.
'Moth?' Weaver asked, totally unfazed.
'Moth,' Stalker said with a nod.
Eyes turned his attention back to the writhing, screeching mass of plant life. The demon flailed around as the poultice worked its magic. Shadows seemed to rip themselves from each vine, doubling the number of thrashing tendrils. It was impossible to tell where t
he shrieking was coming from, it echoed all around them. Finally, with an ear-splitting cry, Slice-of-Flesh was separated from Crimson Thorns. A dark, dripping shadow lurched sideways and stumbled on the slope. The imps that were gathered around the top swarmed down and covered it, their evil eyes glinting red in the dark.
On the island, Crimson Thorns shrank back to the size of a normal rose bush. Her stalks strong and green, her thorns no longer dripping blood. She seemed to sigh, and a ripple flowed out from her, up the slopes and into the bushes around the park. A faint light radiated from her, and the scent of freshly-cut grass overpowered the lingering trace of death.
Eyes led the pack cautiously towards Slice-of-Flesh and his swarm. The imps chattered quietly in a language he couldn't understand. Wind Talker held his knife out and slashed at the air. He tossed a handful of herbs over the demon and it squealed underneath its hoard of imps.
'We cast you out, Slice-of-Flesh. We draw you out of this world, and send you back to the realm from which you came.' Wind Talker slashed at the air again and a tear appeared in the veil. Eyes caught a glimpse of shadows moving beyond the rip and a horrifying shriek filled the air as the heap of demons were sucked through it into their own realm. Wind Talker quickly repaired the veil, sewing it back together with arm gestures and a whispered chant.
Eyes turned back to Crimson Thorns and made his way carefully towards her.
'Thank you,' the fae sighed.
'You lived with that demon for a long time. How do you feel?' Claws asked.
'Tainted, but I will heal with time.' Her voice rustled like dry leaves, but it was one lone voice now. 'Why did you come here? Why did you free me?'
'We were warned that you were in trouble,' Eyes replied, twisting the truth a little. 'We wanted to help.'
'You are not like the others.'
