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

by H B Lyne

  'I don't know,' she replied quietly. 'Let's get inside.'

  Rhys unlocked the door and held it open for her. She looked back up the street. It was empty. Cars rushed past the end of the road and pedestrians bustled past, but no one had followed them up Rhys's road. She went inside, still not entirely satisfied. Could one of the Witches be tailing her? The problem of the city centre being unclaimed was that anyone could come and go unchecked. But if a Witch was on her tail, they would have had to pass through someone's territory to get this far into the city. It was known to happen, of course, but she tried to reassure herself that at this time of extra vigilance it was more unlikely.

  If it wasn't a Witch, why did she feel as though they were being watched? She took a nervous seat on the sofa as Rhys fetched them drinks from the kitchen.

  'Were we followed?' he asked, sitting down next to her and passing her a cup of coffee.

  'I don't know. I thought I sensed something. But I might just be on edge. Did you feel anything strange?'

  'No, nothing.'

  'What about your, friend? Can it sense when your secret is at risk of discovery? Would it warn you?' She sipped her scalding hot drink and eyed Rhys warily. She always felt uncomfortable to mention the demon on his back.

  'In theory, yes. He's there to protect me, and part of that is alerting me to a possible problem. But I've never received a warning. Given that I know at least one person has found me out, I'm not sure whether that particular tool works.' He gave her a wry smile.

  'It tried to hush me, you know? When I looked across the veil and saw it on you, it raised a finger to his... your lips.' She fumbled over the words, unsure which was correct. 'I think it wanted me to not let on that I had seen it.'

  'Maybe, or maybe it just wanted you to keep it secret from others. Maybe it trusted you and that's why it didn't warn me.' He leaned over and kissed her lips softly. He pulled back and Stalker smiled serenely at him, momentarily forgetting her worries. 'Why are you on edge, anyway?'

  'A few incidents on top of each other, same old same old really.' She filled him in on her clash with the Agrius, her incursion into Fenwick, the dead bodies and the visit from Weaver's sister. Rhys let out a whistle as she finished.

  'So, I guess you want to know more about the Furies?' He raised an eyebrow and stroked her shoulder, teasing and reassuring her at the same time.

  'Yeah, I do.'

  'Well, I don't know anything about the Witches specifically. But in general, Furies don't care about the human dead. They have no respect for their remains. So it's not really against their code to be meddling with them. But it's fucking gross. I wonder what they're doing.'

  'It honestly doesn't bear thinking about,' Stalker replied, shaking her head. 'War's coming.' She glanced at him, unsure how he would react. He nodded solemnly.

  'I know, it has been brewing for a long time. It has to come to a head sometime soon.'

  'How do you feel about it? I mean, my people fighting your people?'

  'They're not my people. They haven't been since they slaughtered my family and I ran from them.' There was a hint of bitterness in his voice, his jaw clenched.

  'Do you know why they did it?'

  'Not really. You sometimes talk about the Furies as if they're this united force. In some ways they are, they're united under the banner of the heir, but it's a feudal system and there's a lot of fighting between sects. My kin were dedicated to Alecto. I think the pack that slaughtered them were loyal to Megaira. They wore silver jewellery. That's their thing, they hurt themselves for their patron.'

  'Like the Witches,' Stalker whispered, not meaning to say anything out loud.

  'Oh?' He looked at her sharply, a twitch flickered across his face.

  'Could the Witches have been responsible for killing your pack too?' Stalker asked, her mouth hung open at the end of her question. They stared at each other with wide eyes.

  'Maybe. I'd need proof.' He shook his head, as if to dismiss the urge for revenge that had surely flared up inside him. Stalker knew the sensation well.

  'You still feel like you want to avenge their deaths, then?'

  'Sort of. I didn't think so, but just now.... I don't know. They lied to me, they brought me up with some really fucked up ideas. But they were my family. It's really confusing.' He ran his hands through his hair and flopped back against the arm of the sofa.

  Stalker thought of the Blue Moon. A hard lump formed in her throat. They had learned things about the Blue Moon that made her skin crawl. This desire to avenge them by killing the Witches had consumed the Lightning Lords for months. Stalker didn't want to face the possibility that the Blue Moon didn't deserve such fierce loyalty.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Fights-Eyes-Open

  'What do you think?' Eyes asked, a hopeful glint in his eye. The demon sucked a breath through his yellow teeth.

  'It's almost as if you know exactly how to tempt me.' Tar Peter's voice dripped like honey.

  'Can it be done?' Eyes was growing impatient, but he tried to tread carefully, not wishing to push the demon away.

  'Oh yes, of course. It's a bold plan. I should have seen it coming the moment you took your car across the veil.' A wry smile pulled at his thin lips. 'I'll find the right construct for your van.' Eyes' heart leaped into his throat but a raised finger from the demon sent it plummeting back down. 'If you and your kin will help the flow of traffic in St. Mark's.'

  'How can we do that?' Eyes asked, forcing a polite smile onto his face.

  'Well this ridiculous underground network has been the bane of my existence for months now. There are significant roadworks and delays in three locations.'

  'I can't stop the railway,' Eyes said with a heavy sigh.

  'No, I'm sure you can't. But there must be something you can do to ease the congestion.'

  'I'll see what I can do,' Eyes replied. He would have to bring it up with Theodore. 'I'm sure you're right. But this matter with the Witches is somewhat pressing. Can I have some assurance of your help in the meantime?'

  The demon tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, which were half hidden in shadow from the brim of his black trilby hat. He gave a curt nod.

  'Very well. If nothing else, it'll be interesting to see if you can pull this off.'

  Eyes smiled and clapped his hands together.

  'Great. Are you able to liaise with the Wrecking Crew? They're putting together the van now.'

  'Very well,' the demon replied in his lazy drawl. He sank into the crystal ground and disappeared, leaving behind a small pool of tar.

  Eyes ran his fingers through his hair and released an exasperated sigh. One down, one more to go. He shifted into his wolf form and set off through the rocky, crystalline landscape of Hepethia. He skirted the edge of the twisted maze of red brick houses that the Blue Moon had built and sprinted north. The wind blew his long fur back and his paws skimmed over the ground. He felt free and wild running like this. He could relate to Stalker so much more when he shifted form. His thoughts became more primal and his instincts took over. He was liberated from the worries of his human life and the stresses he had been under.

  Eyes reached the enormous factories of Northgate, monstrous animated versions of their human world counterparts, with gigantic metal limbs and cogs. It was a haven for the constructs and demon hybrids from the realm of Nidavellir, a home away from home. Eyes picked his way carefully through the battlefield that lay in front of Sparking Clank's territory, his light grey paws treading lightly and avoiding all of the traps. He came to a halt in front of the huge metal doors and shifted into his human form, his neat suit restored. He raised a hand and rapped firmly on the door, the clanging echoed through the vast chamber beyond.

  'No offering this time?' A creaking, groaning voice rumbled out of nowhere. The doors slid open, scraping on the concrete. Sparking Clank stood just inside, his vast body of machinery in constant motion. 'Last time you wanted my attention you did something quite radical with your vehicle.' />
  'That's right,' Eyes replied, with a fond smile. 'Not today, I'm afraid.'

  'Well? What do you want?' The construct snapped, his metal-plated body clanging ominously. Eyes always had the impression that something was about to drop off.

  'I'm afraid I come to ask your help in defeating another foe.'

  Sparking Clank grunted with laughter, his body shaking.

  'Is that right?'

  'The Witches of Fenwick are enemies of progress and technology. They seek to dominate Hepethia and rule humanity. We intend to destroy them before they can do any more harm.'

  'That may be true, but it's not the real reason you want to wipe them out. I know.' The construct rumbled, almost like a purr. 'It's far more personal than that.'

  'Yes, it is.' Eyes admitted, not letting go of his conviction. He stared up at the construct, his own blue eyes piercing the lamp-like eyes of the living machine before him.

  'Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me why you want to end them. I have little patience for shifter politicians. Authenticity is more endearing.'

  'Forgive me.' He immediately regretted not bringing Claws with him for this. 'The Witches participated in slaughtering my old pack, the Blue Moon, and they destroyed my human family. This is indeed, very personal.'

  'And do you think that by obliterating them some sort of balance will be restored?' The construct sounded sceptical.

  'I do. It's how society works. Checks and balances. Justice.'

  'You don't seek justice, you seek vengeance.'

  'Perhaps.' Eyes shrugged, but wouldn't allow his resolve to crumble. 'I consider you an ally to the Lightning Lords. Will you help us?'

  He felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and glanced around, certain that someone was watching. The pale blue sky was turning grey as clouds formed in the south. There was a glint against the thickening clouds and Eyes recognised Unchained Lightning making circles beneath the clouds. He turned back to Sparking Clank and smiled knowingly. Unchained Lightning was now the authority over the former Sparkblood, granting him a share of the power in the region. Sparking Clank would have to bow to his master. The construct seemed to have realised that too, and he dipped his large head.

  'Of course.'

  'Thank you. There is a factory in Fenwick that the Witches operate out of. I will see to it that it is of benefit to you.'

  'That would be appreciated. How can I help you?'

  'Join us when we attack on the equinox. We will need to neutralise their nature fae allies. Can I count on you to take the lead on that?'

  'It would be my pleasure.' Sparking Clank bowed his head again. There was just a hint of resentment at being threatened in his voice, but Eyes wasn't worried. It was the natural order of things in Hepethia. The beings that came to call it home were hierarchical at heart.

  'Thank you. I will see you in battle.' Eyes graciously bowed his head and turned to go.

  'Be careful,' Sparking Clank said softly. Eyes glanced back over his shoulder as the metal doors scraped shut. He shifted form and picked his way cautiously back across the battlefield.

  Once he was safely back at 32 Grove Street, Eyes found Claws sitting in the living room, a broad smile on his face as he admired his new acquisition.

  'I can't believe you actually got it,' Eyes said as he stepped into the room. A huge machine gun took up most of the floor.

  'There are a lot of decommissioned weapons like this around, if you know where to look. With a little T.L.C., it'll be in full working order.' He stroked the long barrel tenderly. Eyes rolled his eyes and left him to it. He would never understand a shifter who chose bullets over talons. They were walking weapons in their Agrius form. But Claws was still cautious of his alternate forms, and Eyes had to admit that his ability with firearms had served them well on occasion. He thought of Stalker's swords, and the fierce weaponry that had been on display at the Danegeld. Fortune himself had carried a huge war hammer. A weapon like that would certainly strike fear into his opponents. Perhaps some weaponry and the addition of a machine gun to their van may just give them an advantage. With only a few days until the equinox they needed every advantage they could gather.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Stalker-of-Night's-Shadow

  Late on Sunday evening, Stalker set out to patrol and scout. It had so quickly become routine, and yet on this occasion she felt emotional and fragile. Still shaken from her encounter with the Knight, and subsequent loss of control, she went cautiously and was distracted. She hadn't been able to return to see the Witches move the remaining bodies from the crematorium the following day.

  Her interview with the police flashed through her mind and caused a ripple of discomfort to radiate from her gut. Ron had not answered her calls when she had tried to contact him over the weekend. She had a terrible feeling that the dojo would be closed for a long time and even if it did reopen she might not be welcomed back. She had just been getting into the swing of balancing her new nature with her human life and now it felt as though it had been torn in two.

  Weaver had been telling her for months now that it wasn't possible to have a foot in both worlds, not really. A cover was necessary for survival, but it was folly to try too hard to keep up the pretence of a human life. Had she been right? Would disaster always follow her through the human world? She thought of Eyes and his family and felt a tear prickle at the corner of her eye.

  As she rounded an unfamiliar corner on the southern border of Fenwick, Stalker felt a creeping sensation along her spine. She looked around, suddenly realising that she wasn't where she had intended to be. She had been so lost in thought that she had wandered off course.

  Little stick figures hung from every lamp post along the street and the stale stink of Witches clung to the air. She wasn't far from the Glass Wolves' territory, if she needed to bolt, she would be safe there. Next to her was a green door with faded and peeling paint. It stood alone on a brick wall. The building had no windows and stretched out in both directions with no other doors in sight. She sniffed at it carefully, but there was no particularly strong scent on it; it wasn't claimed any more so than any other random building in Fenwick.

  But something about it drew her to it. A familiarity clawed at her consciousness. It was a gap in the veil, not just a gap, a door. A deliberately created entry to another world. If the Witches had made this, surely they would have staked a claim. She looked around again. Cars passed by behind her and across the road was a group of teenagers chatting loudly as they walked along, some stepping into the road to walk alongside the others. They didn't seem to see her. Foxes were a common enough sight in Caerton that perhaps they thought nothing of seeing one in the street. But something told Stalker that wasn't true. They may be a common sight but most humans still seemed fascinated whenever they caught a glimpse of one. They were walking towards her.

  Overcome by boldness, Stalker shifted form, not taking her eyes off the group. They were distracted and occupied with each other, but there were a dozen of them and at least a few had been looking vaguely in her direction. They showed no reaction whatsoever to her transformation. They continued past as if she wasn't even there.

  Stalker looked back at the green door. It must be shielded with some powerful magic, something even stronger than the cloak of night that mostly concealed her. Pursuit-of-Midnight-Solitude didn't make her invisible, just easy to overlook. Were she to shift form in front of a human under normal circumstances, she would send that human insane.

  She pressed a hand against the door. It was warm to the touch and smelled of home. Though what that really meant she wasn't sure. As she removed her hand, a shimmer passed over the spot where her hand had been. A faint rainbow appeared.

  'What the..?' She stepped back and craned her neck to look up at the building. Aside from the lack of windows and doors, it looked like an ordinary terrace of houses, not unlike Grove Street. Her gaze dropped back to the patch of shimmering rainbow on the door. It was still there and had taken
on a translucent quality. Something seemed to move behind the spectrum of colour and she peered closer to look.

  She felt a sudden tug behind her navel and was dragged through the closed door, as if passing through a waterfall. A cry died in her throat as she was propelled forward through a dark tunnel, with bright colours flashing past her like lights on the walls and floor. Wind whipped at her hair and shook her cheeks. She squinted against the stinging pressure on her eyes, and fought the fear that was trying to rise inside.

  Suddenly her feet made contact with a hard surface and she was surrounded by blindingly white light. She stumbled and fell forwards, her hands slapping against a cool, white quartz floor. She retched, but nothing came up. Her head spun and she could see black spots floating in front of her.

  'Well, this is a surprise.' A cool, deep voice said nearby.

  Stalker staggered to her feet and swayed. It was so bright. She could hardly see. She raised a hand to shield her eyes, and searched for the source of the voice. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the brightness and the world began to come into focus. Immediately around her was a courtyard of clear quartz. The walls were only a few feet high and beyond them was the most astonishing landscape. A turquoise lake that sparkled in the sunlight lay all around the small island courtyard. A long bridge of quartz crossed it, leading to steep cliffs and an enormous palace that towered overhead, seeming to reach almost to the dazzling sky. It gleamed bright white, with touches of every colour of the rainbow flecked here and there on the smooth, curved walls.

  She spun on the spot and came face to face with a tall man in furs and armour. He had pale skin, and wild, red hair, and he carried a golden staff.

  'Where am I?'

  'You are not human.' He walked slowly around her, examining her carefully. 'You are one of the chosen.'

  'I'm a shape shifter,' she said defiantly. 'One of the Chosen of Artemis.'

  'Hmm.' He stood still and stoked his chiselled jaw as he regarded her through narrowed eyes. 'How do you come to be here?'