by H B Lyne
The fire died down and Furnace-of-Sol stepped back, unwrapping her wings from around him. Weaver was at his side first, checking him over. He brushed her back. 'I'm fine,' he muttered. He could feel the hammer vibrating, it hummed slightly and he stepped back from Weaver to swing it through the air. There was a rush of wind as it sped past his body and for the briefest second a ripple of light ran down the handle and flickered out at the head. He stopped still and grasped it in both hands, staring at it. 'What was that?'
'Power,' replied the phoenix.
Unchained Lightning crackled overhead and Eyes looked up at him. Dark clouds were swirling above the flickering dragon and Eyes felt static in the air. His gaze still fixed on their fae ally, Eyes began to swing the hammer in a huge arc by his side. He felt the energy soaring through his arm and into the weapon. He could hear it humming, and felt the warm glow gathering in the head.
'Bring the lightning!' Eyes roared, and at the zenith of the circle that his arm was making the hammer suddenly stuck, as if caught in a trap. Lightning erupted from the head and streaked up into the sky.
Weaver gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth, Claws and Wind Talker stared, awestruck. Eyes felt his arm shaking violently with the weight of the mighty weapon. He let it drop to his side and let his gaze settle on Furnace-of-Sol. 'Thank you,' he croaked.
'My pleasure,' she replied, the music back in her voice. 'Use it well.'
Chapter Thirty-Eight
20th March
Stalker-of-Night's-Shadow
There was tension in every muscle in Stalker's body. She was aching with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Tonight was the night. The sun was just dipping below the horizon and there was a palpable prickle in the air. Maybe it was her sensitivity to celestial events, rather than anything to do with the fight that was coming. The spring equinox was upon them, with just an hour to go until the exact moment that the sun was due to pass over the celestial equator.
Stalker and Weaver waited cautiously on the very edge of their territory. The Glass Wolves were positioned at strategic points along Fenwick's south-western border and Stalker could just about make out the scent of one of their number, Terrance Platt, on the wind. Stalker's phone buzzed in her hand and she stared at the message on the screen.
The Hand of God aren't coming. But Echoes is with us.
'Damn,' she hissed.
'What's wrong?' Weaver muttered, not taking her eyes off the street. Her fingers absently spun a new ring on her finger, a gift from Wind Talker.
'No Hand of God,' Stalker hissed.
'Well, we thought it might go that way. Let's just carry on with the plan.'
Stalker nodded and stowed her phone in her pocket.
'Okay. Let's do this.' She shifted silently into a tawny owl and flew out from the cover of the bushes. Weaver ran out after her as a slinky black cat. As Stalker flew into Witch territory she felt a ripple run through her; every instinct in her body told her to turn back. This was enemy territory, claimed, possessed. They reserved the right to execute intruders on sight. Stalker pushed the urge to flee aside and checked the ground to make sure Weaver was still there. Her dark shadow weaved between trees that lined the avenue. The pair of them moved swiftly and silently through leafy Fenwick, through a small park and north towards the factory. It was an overcast night and the clouds reflected the orange street lights that lined the road that swept past the old factory. There was a fine drizzle in the air and Stalker felt droplets rolling off her silken feathers.
She landed on the branch of a tree opposite the factory. Weaver kept running, jogging across the empty street. Stalker watched the fence, there was a lone Witch patrolling the perimeter of the factory about fifty yards away from the gate. Stalker took flight and soared straight towards the Witch. In the shadows near the gate, Weaver hunkered down to wait. Stalker was coming up fast behind the guard, her heart hammering in her feathered chest. She recognised the scent now, one of many that she had detected on her scouting missions.
If this worked, she would never even need to see the woman's face.
She swooped down over the tall fence and shifted form silently right behind the guard and levitated a foot from the ground for a second, before her hands darted through the darkness and grasped the Witch around the throat and across her face. She landed and yanked the struggling woman against her chest. Hands with long nails clawed at Stalker's hand and arm, the guard's slender neck was tucked neatly into the crook of Stalker's elbow. She closed her eyes and pinned the Witch against her body, waiting for the struggling to stop. Her legs thrashed at the ground erratically for a few seconds. Gradually her movements slowed, her hands dropped to her sides and her feet fell still. She was unconscious.
Stalker laid her softly on the grass and sprinted back to the gate. She caught sight of Weaver in the shadows, just two bright eyes catching the light above. The moment Weaver saw Stalker she squeezed through the small gap under the gate and pressed herself against the concrete wall to shift form.
With no need for words, the two of them ran down the ramp towards the garage. As they reached the closed door, Weaver placed her ringed hand on the control panel and the door began to roll slowly up, clattering loudly. They exchanged glances, relieved that the talisman worked, but anxious at the racket the door created.
Wasting no time, the moment the door was a foot from the floor they both dropped to their bellies and squeezed underneath. Weaver darted to the inside control panel and pressed her ring to it. The door shuddered to a halt and then began its noisy descent to the ground. Stalker watched the door opposite, aware that at any moment Witches might come pouring through it. The door thumped to the floor and Weaver shifted her slender hand into a huge Agrius fist and punched the panel, which crunched and disintegrated.
Stalker pointed to the nearest truck and the two of them sprinted for it and threw themselves to the ground, crawling quickly underneath. Weaver shifted form and hid behind a wheel. Stalker's gaze was fixed to the door as it swung open, spilling soft candlelight across the concrete floor and two pairs of feet scurried into the garage. There were voices chanting in the room beyond and Stalker prayed that they weren't too late.
'What the hell?' a familiar voice snapped. Its owner's feet were by the door. She stooped to pick up a piece of the broken plastic casing for the control panel, her long blond hair falling like a silk scarf over her shoulder. Weaver's sister.
Stalker felt Weaver tense up, but she didn't freeze. She followed the plan and darted silently for the next truck over. Stalker shifted into a grey tabby cat and followed.
'Check over there,' ordered the other Witch, sending Maria towards the first truck, while she appeared to check around the door. Stalker and Weaver slunk silently through the shadows, darting from one vehicle to the next until they were tantalisingly close to the open door. The air was heavy with incense and the chanting continued.
They haven't stopped, came Weaver's anxious inner voice. Stalker hadn't expected them to. This ritual was too important, timing was critical. They would keep going through an air raid if they had to. But only as long as Spinner-of-Crystal was still conscious.
I know. Cover the door. Stalker willed her body to shrink, squeezing her feline shape right down into that of a moth. She fluttered out from under the car and flew, unseen, through the open door.
The room was bathed in flickering light from a hundred candles. There was a huge circle of petals on the floor and inside it four figures sat, each holding a candle and chanting. Painted on the concrete floor was a detailed mural of the Green Man. Beyond the circle the floor was cracked and broken, with long grass growing up through the cracks. The walls all around the room were thick with greenery and sections of the roof were missing and open to the dull sky above. Lying on the overgrown floor, were dozens of bodies. They were laid out in neat rows. Each one had been awkwardly dressed in mismatched armour. A fine sheen of rainwater glistened on their pale faces.
There was a deafening c
rash and Stalker twisted in mid-air to see the door swing closed and a car scrape across the floor, blocking the door. She heard Weaver's Agrius roar and knew that she had to act fast.
The Alpha, Gaze-of-Purity glanced at the door, and twitched as if to leap up. But she was rooted to the spot and a frustrated snarl crept into her chanting. The two supposedly dead girls were on opposite sides of the circle, their eyes serenely closed, their lips softly chanting the words over and over.
'Invocato a viridis vir, ostensor vitae.'
Spinner-of-Crystal sat opposite her Alpha. She was wearing robes of green and brown and her long, thick greying hair fell wild and tangled over her broad shoulders. Her hands were raised over her head and she swayed slightly as she chanted. Her fingers were smudged green, evidently she was responsible for the artwork on the floor.
There was another crash next door, and Gaze-of-Purity flinched again. Spinner-of-Crystal got slowly to her feet, her hands still raised over her head. Stalker felt the room shudder. Something was happening. There was another loud crash from the garage and the doors trembled.
A crack like a whip rent the air and all eyes around the circle opened. The Green Man on the ground looked crooked. Stalker fluttered directly over it, unable to pick out the details with these dull, moth eyes. All she could tell was that the image had suddenly moved.
Then there was another terrible crack and the concrete floor shifted. The mural split in two and a green tentacle slithered up through the gap that had appeared. Stalker was out of time.
She flew down and straight into Spinner-of-Crystal's face.
The rite-mistress reeled backwards, stumbling out of the circle. The chanting stopped and Stalker was vaguely aware of rapid movement and shouting. She beat her tiny wings against the woman's leathery face, as her thick fingers swatted wildly at her. The Witch's hand made contact and sent Stalker spinning across the room. Every millimetre of her fragile body ached and she felt herself shaking, losing control of the form. Her wings wouldn't beat and she fell towards the ground as her body erupted and shifted out of her control.
Stalker stopped, her nose inches from the concrete floor, her human hands either side of her face to break her fall. But her levitation charm had stopped her from making impact, and only now did she float softly to the floor.
The room was silent and she felt eyes on her prone body. Every muscle and bone throbbed and she didn't dare look up. Where were the others? They should have arrived by now. Why could she no longer hear Weaver rampaging in the garage? She felt her connection to each pack mate, so knew that they were all alive, but they needed to be here. Now.
'Huh.' The bemused utterance was right overhead. Finally Stalker forced her body to roll over. She found herself staring up at Gaze-of-Purity. 'Well I never saw anything like that before. What are you?'
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Fights-Eyes-Open
The side door of the black van slid shut and slammed into place. Claws grasped the ladder on the back and swung himself onto the top. Eyes watched as Claws carefully secured himself with the harness that had been tethered to the top next to the machine gun. Eyes wiped his clammy hands on his black jeans. He had abandoned the suit tonight.
Rust and the Wrecking Crew were climbing into their white van on the opposite side of the small circle at the heart of the scrap yard. Eyes crossed the yard quickly and caught Rust by the shoulder before he could heave himself up into the cab. Rust glared at Eyes' hand and Eyes hastily removed it.
'Sorry. Look, thanks for all this. I want you to know that whatever happens tonight you have my gratitude.'
'All right,' Rust said shortly. 'It's in all our interests, isn't it? I wouldn't be doing this if the Witches didn't pose a threat to my crew.'
'I know,' Eyes sighed. 'But I'm grateful all the same.'
'Sure.' Rust hung there in the door of the van, one foot still in the foot well. He wiped a greasy hand across his brow, smearing it black. 'Look, don't be crazy out there. I know this is personal and shit, but don't take unnecessary risks. Right?'
Eyes nodded, somehow touched by this surprising sign of concern. He patted Rust firmly on the shoulder and turned to head back to his own pack. He heard Rust's door slam shut.
'Are we ready?' Wind Talker asked, as Eyes climbed into the driver's seat.
'We are.' He glanced across at his pack mate, who sat with his arm hanging out of the open window. Between them sat the slight figure of Last-Breath-Echoes. She stared out of the wind screen, idly twirling her hair.
Eyes felt his phone vibrate. He tugged it from the tight pocket of his jeans and saw Theodore's name on the screen. He answered and put it on speaker. 'Theodore.'
'The girls have crossed the border.'
'Good, we're on our way. We don't have Crimson.'
'No, I suspected we might not. We'll manage. I'll see you there.' Theodore hung up. Eyes tossed his phone into a small nook in the dashboard and turned the key in the ignition. Wind Talker smacked the side of the van twice, and Claws returned the ready signal from the roof.
'Hold tight,' Eyes cautioned Echoes. She looked at him vacantly. Eyes pushed his foot down on the gas pedal and released the handbrake, and the van lurched forward. He focused on the veil and set his sights on Hepethia beyond it. The van shot forwards, straight for a precariously balanced tower of wrecked cars. Rather than crashing into them, however, the van sped through the veil and the landscape opened up before them.
The Wrecking Crew had fashioned Hepethia like a massive fort. All around them were huge, steel walls and straight ahead was an open portcullis. Eyes drove straight through it and checked in his wing mirrors to see the Wrecking Crew's van following. Rust was leaning out of the window and pumping his fist in the air. Eyes laughed and patted the steering wheel.
'You're even crazier than me,' Last-Breath-Echoes called over the roar of the engine. Eyes flashed her a grin.
Beyond the fort, there were mounds of earth and a roughly-paved road wound between them. The road led due south, toward the Witches' territory. Constructs were busily digging and building on either side of the road. Rough buildings were going up, brick by brick, giving purpose to these beings from another realm.
The van sped past older sites, where completed brick buildings lined the road and spread away into the distance. The area was heavily populated with constructs and fae. Fascinating creatures scurried out of sight as the two vans rolled through the neighbourhood. A crowd of small, red brick, dog-like creatures trotted along the side of the road, looking warily at the shifters as they raced by.
'Wrecking Crew appears to be a misnomer!' Wind Talker shouted. 'I've never seen so much construction in Hepethia. They're building their own city.'
'Very clever!' Eyes replied. 'Who would ever think that a pack who smashes stuff for a living would be doing this as well? I must ask Rust about it later.' He missed off the words that formed in his head at the end of that sentence. If we survive. But Wind Talker caught them and nodded solemnly at Eyes over Echoes' head.
As they neared the edge of Wrecking Crew territory, the row of bright white street lights that lined the road stopped abruptly and plunged Hepethia into darkness. Eyes hit the van's lights and they shone on the road ahead. The mounds of earth gave way to rough crystal.
There was a honk from the van behind and Eyes glanced in his wing mirror. Rust was flashing his lights. Eyes looked back at the road just in time to see the road ending and a hill of rose quartz jutting up right ahead. He slammed on the brakes and the van stopped a few feet from the edge of the tarmac. He heard Claws clatter forwards on the roof, and cursing loudly. Eyes pulled himself up through his open window and saw Claws clinging to his harness, his face white.
'Fucking hell, mate!' Claws yelled.
'Sorry, so sorry. It snuck up on me sooner than I expected.' Eyes' heart was pounding and he reached out across the roof towards his brother. Claws made a fist and gently bumped it with Eyes' own, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his throat.
Rust came striding from his van with Fury at his heels.
'I couldn't make a gap before now, for security,' Rust explained, pointing at the jagged crystal.
'Of course,' Eyes said, climbing awkwardly out of the van.
There was a strange noise on the wind and the shifters all seemed to hear it at once. They began searching the darkness for the source of the clanking, clattering sound. A dull, yellow light appeared beside the road and the clanging grew louder.
'What is that?' Rust whispered.
'One of our allies,' Eyes said, his shoulders relaxing as he realised who it was. 'I told him he would know when it was time.'
Sparking Clank came rushing towards them with remarkable speed, his short legs working hard and every inch of his metal body clanging and crashing with every movement of his ancient joints.
'It's a good job we're not going for stealth,' snorted Fury.
'No, that's Stalker's job,' Eyes hissed, shooting a filthy look at her. She glared back at him, the whites of her eyes standing out in her dark face.
'Now now,' Rust said softly.
Wind Talker and Last-Breath-Echoes climbed out of the van to join them, and Eyes felt his pack mate's firm hand on his shoulder, cautioning him to cool his temper.
Sparking Clank came to a halt next to the black van, wheezing and bobbing his huge head. He dwarfed the vans, being the size of a lorry himself. To Eyes' surprise, a figure slithered down off the construct's back. Tar Peter lifted his hat and dipped his head.
'You didn't think I'd miss this, did you?' he said dryly, his gaze fixed on Eyes.
'It never even occurred to me you would want to come. I didn't think you would want to dirty your hands.'
'Oh no, I don't, but I do love to watch.' Tar Peter grinned. Wind Talker tensed beside Eyes, and it was the Alpha's turn to urge caution. He knew Wind Talker had not forgotten Tar Peter's appearance at the ruins of the betting shop. 'Besides, you'll need my help to get these vehicles through their territory.'
