by H B Lyne
'They're twitchy!' he called out from the hall, as he hung his coat up. Stalker rushed into the hall, Weaver and Wind Talker close behind her. 'They've increased their patrols. I would hazard a guess that's in reaction to your jaunt the other night.' He winked at Stalker.
'We should make sure we don't leave the border undefended for too long,' Eyes said from behind them.
'The Wrecking Crew are out there this morning. I saw Speaker-of-Steel and Sky Runner. I also ran into Terrance Platt from the Glass Wolves. Stalker? Did something happen last night?' Claws fixed his steely eyes on her.
'Yes. I haven't had chance yet to tell anyone.' She returned Eyes' irritated glare with defiance. 'Nothing with the Witches. I stumbled through a door in the veil and ended up in Asgard.'
'What?' Wind Talker snapped, fixing his penetrating gaze on her.
'Oh for goodness' sake,' Stalker said with a huff. She bustled everyone out of the hall and into the kitchen.
'Seriously? You went to Asgard? Why didn't you wake us to tell us as soon as you got back?' Weaver looked truly hurt by Stalker's lack of urgency.
'I wanted to tell you all at once. Claws wasn't here. I didn't go right into Asgard itself. The bridge between worlds deposited me on an island on a lake between Asgard and Olympus.' She took a deep breath and recounted what had happened. When she finished she looked at her packmates expectantly. They all just stared at her in awe.
'Wow,' Weaver breathed, her fingers pressed against her lips. 'Did they tell you what was going to happen?'
Stalker hesitated, unsure how much detail she wanted to share.
'That we can win this fight if we go in knowing our enemy.'
'Good advice,' Eyes said, a small smile tugging at his lips. 'I had a thought on that subject. We tried before to get information on the Plague Doctor from the constructs at the telecoms tower. We could try again.'
'Good idea,' Wind Talker said, nodding.
'I need to get the machine gun to the Wrecking Crew today,' Claws said.
'Okay, we'll all go to the tower together, then Weaver, I want you patrolling.'
'Is it wise to let Weaver patrol alone?' Wind Talker asked, a little hesitantly. Weaver snarled at him across the kitchen table. Stalker felt affronted on her behalf. 'Nothing at all about your abilities,' Wind Talker said hastily. 'But they're obviously still interested in getting you on their side. What if they try to snatch you again?'
'I'm confident that Weaver can handle herself,' Eyes said firmly. 'Let's eat, then get over to the tower.'
They followed the Alpha's instructions, eating a hasty breakfast. Weaver wanted to know more about Stalker's trip to the realm of the gods, and Stalker answered her eager questions as best she could. Though she held on to some of what happened. She didn't want to admit to Weaver that she had been right all along about not trying to be human. She also didn't want to mention Rhys and the fact that Fylgia had talked to her about being in love. She knew that Weaver was likely to catch some of her private thoughts, but hoped they would be vague.
Eyes hurried them along, but before heading out, Stalker ran upstairs to freshen up. She hummed to herself as she washed and brushed her teeth. She quietly made her way up to the attic and went to the hidden corner. She pulled out her secret box and deposited a feather from Gudra's fur-trimmed armour inside. Halfway down from the attic she shook her head, unsure what she had just been doing. She was having that feeling more and more often.
The Lightning Lords crossed the veil and ran together across their territory for the border with the Witches. They inspected it carefully for any signs of an incursion. The coast was clear and they made their way back into the heart of what was theirs, to the huge metal tower. In Hepethia it was more foreboding than in the human world. It dominated the landscape, its steel struts looked as though they had erupted from the ground, rather than been buried in it.
Stalker craned her neck to look up the tower. Right at the top sat The-Lord-of-Storms-and-Rain, though it appeared he was resting as the sky above blazed blue and cloudless.
'Are you going to try calling the tower again?' Claws asked. Eyes shook his head.
'Wind Talker? Could I have your knife please?'
Wind Talker retrieved his ritual knife from his shoulder bag and passed it to the Alpha. Eyes sliced his palm and passed the knife to Claws. 'You too, all of you.' He pressed his bleeding palm to the nearest part of the tower. Claws copied him and passed the knife to Stalker. She pressed the blade into her palm and sliced neatly and virtually painlessly through her skin, drawing blood. She handed the knife to Weaver, then joined the others at the base of the tower. Once Weaver and Wind Talker were also connected to the tower by their bloody hands, Eyes looked up the tower.
'We call upon the construct of the tower itself,' Wind Talker said, calmly taking the lead. 'We offer our blood and our service in exchange for information. Please come before us.'
Stalker felt the cool metal vibrating beneath her palm. She looked up but could see nothing unusual yet. The vibration grew stronger and the metal began to feel hot. She winced through the pain shooting from her open wound and glanced at the others. They were reacting to the heat too. Claws was the first to yank his hand away. Stalker started to see spots, and finally leapt back from the tower, cradling her burned hand close to her chest. The skin was raw and blistered. Weaver was nursing her own hand next to her. Eyes and Wind Talker were still clinging to the metal, determined expressions on their faces. Stalker watched them both, transfixed. They kept stealing glances at one another, and resolutely gripped the metal more tightly each time they caught each other's eye. They were competing, Stalker realised. She rolled her eyes at their foolish macho attitudes. Though if it got the pack what it needed, maybe it didn't matter too much how they got there.
Eyes' hand began to smoke and he yanked it away with a snarl. Wind Talker tried to hide a smile, but Stalker saw it before he turned his head away. He still didn't let go. The air around them prickled with static and when Stalker looked up she saw the Lord flying around his throne in a frenzy.
'Wind Talker?' Stalker urged, not taking her eyes off the soaring Lord above.
Her pack mate snarled, low and threatening. She turned to look at him. His hand was smoking, but he steadfastly kept hold of the tower. He grasped hold of it with his other hand and his shoulders shook with pain. His snarl turned into a roar and Stalker readied herself to pounce if his Agrius took control.
'Enough.' A voice hissed like static. Stalker looked around for a source, but it seemed like it had come from Wind Talker himself. He released his hands and stepped back. As he turned to face the others, Stalker saw that his eyes had glazed over and were completely white.
'What is this?' Stalker whispered. 'Is something controlling him?'
'Yes,' Weaver replied, looking worried.
'What do you young whelps want of me?' Wind Talker's lips moved, but it wasn't his voice that came out.
'We need information,' Claws said calmly, though Stalker noticed his hand resting inside his jacket where his gun was holstered. 'Is there anything you can tell us about the Witches of Fenwick, or their ally, The Green Man?'
'I am The Uplink. I am connected to every communication in this city, and beyond. I hear and see everything. Every scrap of data, every word exchanged digitally or wirelessly. I am Knowledge,' the voice that wasn't Wind Talker's boasted.
'And Knowledge is Power,' Claws said with a wry smile.
'I know things that would cripple you. Why should I help you?'
'Because we allow you to remain on our territory at present,' Claws said. 'That could change.'
Stalker raised an eyebrow and glanced at her pack mate with renewed respect.
'And because it's in your best interests to keep the information flowing,' Weaver added. 'We could offer you information in exchange.'
'There is one sort of information that eludes me,' The Uplink hissed.
'Oh?' Claws cocked his head to one side and observed Wind Talker s
hrewdly.
'Memories, thoughts. Unless they are expressed and transmitted I cannot grasp them. They intrigue me.'
Wind Talker began convulsing suddenly, he coughed and retched and doubled over. Stalker ran forwards, as did Claws. Before they reached him, Wind Talker stood up and held up his hands to keep them back. His eyes were still white, but he had clearly regained some control of his body.
'You can take mine,' he croaked. It was definitely his voice, as hoarse as it was. 'Take my childhood.'
'All of it?' The Uplink's voice came out of Wind Talker's mouth again.
'Yes!' Wind Talker replied.
'No!' Weaver cried out and lurched forwards. Eyes caught hold of her and held her back. 'Wind Talker, no! You can't do that. He means to remove them from your head, not copy them.'
'I know,' he said, looking towards Weaver, his eyes still eerily white. 'They're yours. As long as you give us information that will help us defeat the Witches and their allies.'
Stalker closed her eyes, she couldn't watch. He was so often the only one of them that knew something about shifter mythology or history. He was the only one of them to grow up with shifters, and he was offering it all up in exchange for whatever scrap of information this construct decided to part with.
'You seek to defeat the Green Man?' The Uplink enquired.
'We do,' Eyes replied, still holding onto Weaver.
'He is anathema to me. I do not understand what he is. But I do know something that the Witches do not wish you to know. He can't be killed, nor can he be banished, for he is life itself. However, he can be bound by cold iron. He is rendered virtually powerless by it, for it represents industry and the domination of nature. Bind him in cold iron and he will bend to your will.'
Stalker looked at Eyes. He was beaming, and had released Weaver.
'Thank you,' Eyes said.
'That's very useful, thank you,' Claws added.
'You're welcome. I will take my payment now.'
Before they could react, Wind Talker started shaking violently. Claws was the first to reach him, though he seemed clueless what to do to help. They gathered around him, watching helplessly as he collapsed and writhed on the ground. Stalker could feel his memories being ransacked, she saw flashes of his childhood before they disappeared from his memory. Tears welled up and began to fall silently down her cheeks.
Finally Wind Talker lay still, bent over on his side, his arms over his face.
'Wind Talker?' Claws whispered, crouching beside him.
He slowly lowered his arms. His eyes were back to normal and he looked up at them with a sort of innocence that Stalker had never seen before. Claws helped him to sit up. 'Are you all right?'
'I think so,' Wind Talker said softly. He looked around anxiously. 'The Uplink was in my head.'
'That's right,' Weaver said, stooping to look him in the eye.
'He was powerful. I've only ever encountered a handful of beings like that before. Not even that many. The Lord-of-Storms-and-Rain, Dreadnought...' His voice trailed away. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes.
'Do you know what he took?' Weaver asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes dropped to her hand, then he looked back up at the rest of them.
'My childhood. It's all gone. But I know it was there, I know I had one. I didn't just spring into being a fully-formed adult.' He frowned. 'There are things that I know, that I don't remember learning, like what we all are and where we are. It's strange.'
'I expect it will be strange for quite some time,' Eyes said. 'You did something very brave for us. Thank you.'
'Not at all, it was worth it. Now we know how to defeat the Green Man, right?'
'Right,' Eyes said. He held out his hand and helped Wind Talker to his feet. 'So we'd better round up as much iron as Caerton has to offer.'
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Fights-Eyes-Open
The Lightning Lords returned to the human world. Weaver separated from the others to patrol the border, jogging away from them in cat form. Eyes watched her go with slight trepidation. Despite sticking up for her earlier, he did have reservations about her getting close to Fenwick alone. But he couldn't spare any more of the pack, they had too much to do.
'I have supplies to gather and a meeting with Spark to finish off a few talismans,' Wind Talker explained. Eyes nodded and let him go.
As they arrived at Grove Street, Eyes called Rust.
'Eyes,' Rust answered sleepily.
'We have the item for the top of the van. Can we bring it to you this morning?'
'Sure, great. Bring it to Plenty o' Scrap in Runmead. I'll meet you there. Everything okay?'
'Yeah, we got some great intel just now. I'll fill you in when I see you. Have you got bodies on the border?'
'I've just sent Fury out. You?'
'Weaver's out there. We'll see you soon.'
'Sure.' Rust ended the call abruptly and Eyes stowed his phone back in the inside pocket of his jacket.
'Where is the best place to find iron these days?' he asked, looking at Claws and Stalker.
'Cemetery fences,' Claws replied swiftly. 'That's about the only place they didn't swipe it from during the war, because they thought it kept the ghosts in.'
Eyes hesitated.
'Well, they might have been right. Is that a risk we can afford to take?'
'More to the point,' Stalker said, frowning, 'can we really get away with stealing cemetery fences in broad daylight? It's not going to be a quick and easy job, is it?'
'Let's not remove any cemetery fences,' Eyes said hastily. 'Let's get over to Runmead. I bet the Wrecking Crew can help with this.'
Claws covered the machine gun with an old blanket and Eyes helped him carry it out to his car. Stalker locked the door and ran out to the car after them. Eyes drove across St. Mark's, ever conscious of the fully functioning heavy artillery in the boot. 'Do you have ammunition for the gun?' he asked, glancing at Claws beside him.
'Of course,' Claws replied with a grin.
'I take it you want to man it?'
'Well, yeah,' Claws said, stating the obvious. Stalker sniggered in the back seat. Eyes ignored her. They crossed into Runmead, something they had never done before. Eyes felt the significance of it. He had done something that Fortune had claimed impossible: forged a relationship with the Wrecking Crew. He wondered whether his father and former Alpha would be proud of him now. He hoped so.
Claws checked a map on his phone and directed Eyes to the scrap yard that Rust had mentioned. It was right in the heart of Runmead, near Caerton's football stadium. They drove down a quiet street in the industrial area; office blocks squatted to either side, hidden behind tall red brick walls. A fence of corrugated iron hid the yard from view, but the gates stood open and Eyes drove inside. Huge piles of dented and rusting cars were piled on either side of a narrow driveway. Eyes navigated carefully between them. The narrow lane opened up to a large, circular courtyard at the centre of the site. There was a Portakabin to one side, surrounded on three sides by stacks of rusted appliances. Eyes parked next to it and turned off the engine.
'So, this is Wrecking Crew turf?' he said softly. He opened his door and climbed out of the car, his shiny shoes landing softly on the dirt. The others followed his lead. The Portakabin door opened and Rust stepped out, blinking in the bright sunshine.
'Eyes,' he said in greeting. Eyes strode over to him and extended a hand, which Rust took and shook briefly.
'Rust. Thanks for having us.'
'No problem,' the other Alpha said stiffly. 'What's the word, then?'
'We were told that the Green Man can be bound by iron. We need chains, lots of chains.'
'That shouldn't be a problem,' Rust said with a smirk, glancing around them.
'No, I guess not,' Eyes replied. Relief washed over him and he allowed himself a small smile.
'The van is round here.' Rust indicated another passage through the piled up cars. Eyes popped his boot and he and Claws lifted the cov
ered machine gun carefully out. They followed Rust through the yard, past some equipment that looked as though it was for crushing cars, past two huge skips full of small parts. The narrow lane twisted and turned between the piled up wreckage, and the gun was growing heavy in Eyes' sweating hands.
Buried deep in the heart of the maze, was a big, black van. It had been fitted with thick bars down the sides and a spiked battering ram on the front.
'Brilliant,' Claws said breathlessly.
'This can never be seen on human roads,' Rust cautioned.
'No, we know. We plan to take it across the veil,' Eyes said, still gazing at the van.
'I heard something about you guys doing stuff like that,' Rust said, a wry smile on his lips. 'Nice one.' Eyes looked at him, Rust was nodding appreciatively, his arms crossed over his chest. Eyes returned his smile. Yes, relations were definitely warmer between their packs these days.
'Will we be able to get it out of here on the other side?' Eyes asked, looking around at the towering cars.
'Not a problem,' Rust replied. 'So, you need chains of iron? Speaker-of-Steel can sort that out for you. What's the attack plan?'
'We're going to attack during their equinox ritual. We think that's when their defences will be lowest, they'll be busy and distracted. We'll need a contingent in the van to hit the factory in Hepethia to subdue the Green Man, at the same time as another group in the human world to interrupt the ritual and take down the Witches.'
'Which group are you leading?'
'The van group. Stalker will take the lead against the Witches in the human world.' He glanced at her, catching her look of surprise.
'I see,' Rust said, indignation colouring his freckled cheeks. 'I understand that you want your own people at the head of this; but if you'll take a little advice, you don't want to put the other Alphas' noses out of joint. Where do you picture myself and Theodore?'
Eyes thought quickly, seeing the battle playing out in his head, like he had a hundred times before, now with the addition of the chains.
'You and yours at the factory. I'll head the assault on the building itself, we'll need to break in to it, which is what the van is all about. You'll be responsible for leading the attack on the Green Man. I take it Speaker-of-Steel has expertise with metal-crafting?'
