by H B Lyne
'It hurts, doesn't it?' Stalker snarled, though not much more than a growl escaped her Agrius snout. But the Witch seemed to comprehend her tone. She fell still, her human legs finally coming to rest. Her body slowly returned to its human form, and her cold eyes gazed up at Stalker. There was no life in them at all. And yet the girl was breathing, just. Stalker shifted form and knelt over the dying girl. Déjà vu nagged at her mind. She rolled the girl onto her side and slid her dha out of her shoulder with a disgusting squelch. 'I am sorry that I killed you before,' Stalker said softly in the girl's ear. 'It shouldn't have happened. We honestly just wanted to talk to you.'
The Witch nodded and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.
'I know,' she croaked. 'I didn't ask to be brought back.'
'Okay,' Stalker said. The girl touched her wounded shoulder and stared at the blood on her fingers.
'Poison?'
'Venom.' Stalker could see the veins all around the wound throbbing and black through Angela's pale skin. That was Odin's gift to her, venomous blades. 'Close your eyes.' The girl complied. A moment later she drew one last shuddering breath, and then stopped. Stalker glanced over her body, she had no token to take, except for a silver claw earring, which Stalker couldn't touch without getting burned. She shook her head and stood to leave.
As she turned, she saw the Green Man heave himself up to his full height, almost as tall as the factory itself. He seemed to expand to fill the space. In one of his fists he held Terrance, of the Glass Wolves. The other Glass Wolves were gathered around, looking furious. There was a crunch as the Green Man broke Terrance in half, and then he tossed him to the ground.
One of his tendrils lashed out in Stalker's direction, but her reflexes protected her and she leaped aside. The tendril shot past her and hit a new mark with a thump. Stalker's head whipped around to see the tip spear Last-Breath-Echoes through the chest. She hung there limp on the end of the tentacle, her eyes wide. They flickered around the room and latched onto Stalker. The battle seemed to be suspended around them in that moment as they held each other's gaze. Stalker was rooted to the spot, caught on the wrong foot at the end of her leap.
The Green Man withdrew his tentacle and the vast room was filled with the sound of his laughter as Echoes dropped to the floor.
'No!' roared Eyes from somewhere in the distance.
Stalker bounded over to Echoes, dropping her sword with a clatter. She scooped her friend up into her arms, but the light was already gone from her eyes.
'No, no, no,' Stalker mumbled, shaking Echoes by the shoulders. 'Heal,' she whispered. 'Heal yourself.'
There was a furious roar behind her, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from her dead friend. The battle was slowly resuming behind her, but it sounded so distant.
Thunder rumbled far away and heavy raindrops started to fall through the broken roof.
'Stalker!' A voice from far away penetrated her numbness. 'On your feet, soldier!' Rough hands had her by the shoulders and were dragging her up. She tried to lay Echoes down gently, but her head fell and cracked against the floor. Stalker spun to see who was dragging her away and came face to face with Fury. She shrugged her off and pushed her away.
'How dare you!' Stalker screamed.
'Not now!' Fury snapped. 'Finish the job and then grieve.'
Over Fury's shoulder, Stalker saw Eyes swinging his hammer. He was still roaring, his throat straining. The head of the hammer was glowing bright white and the Green Man stared down at him with a bemused expression on his leafy face.
Eyes released the hammer and sent it flying through the air towards the Green Man. Lightning streaked out from the head and struck the demi-god in the chest before the hammer thwacked him in the face. He stumbled backwards, and the Glass Wolves scattered out from behind him.
The rest of the Wrecking Crew charged forwards, heavy black chains coiled in their arms. Speaker-of-Steel threw his arms into the air; the thick chains uncoiled themselves from his pack mates' arms and flew silently through the air. Speaker-of-Steel seemed to conduct the metal, guiding it with his outstretched hands, and it wrapped itself around the Green Man as he fell to the floor.
'No!' The shriek pierced the silence, and Gaze-of-Purity ran forward, human once more.
Eyes' hammer fell to the floor with a heavy and decisive thunk, cracking the concrete. The crack spread rapidly across the ground, toward the Witch Alpha, and a gaping hole appeared at her feet. She fell straight through it with no time to react.
There was a muted crack of bones breaking and Stalker's gaze snapped over to Wind Talker as he tossed Spinner-of-Crystal to the ground, her head facing the wrong way. He bounded forwards and leaped into the hole after the Alpha. Eyes was right behind him, scooping up his hammer as he sped past it. Stalker grabbed her two fallen dha and raced after them. She didn't much care what happened in the main room of the factory.
The hole opened into a narrow passageway and she raced along it, barely able to see the others ahead, but she could hear their pounding feet and ragged breathing.
Don't rip her to pieces before I get there! she yelled in her mind.
There was a little light ahead and she could make out the dark shapes of running figures against it. The light drew nearer and she felt sickly warm air on her face as she sprinted towards it. She burst out into a small room. Wind Talker and Eyes stood frozen just inside, and Eyes caught Stalker around the waist, pulling her to a halt.
In the centre of the room was a waist-high pillar in a narrow shaft of brilliant light. Stalker looked up, shielding her eyes, but there was no obvious source. Suspended there in the light, floating above the top of the pillar, was an ancient-looking piece of parchment. It had tiny writing scrawled all over it in brownish-red ink.
Gaze-of-Purity stood on the other side of the pillar, her face bathed in the mysterious light, with black shadows cast under her eyes and nose by it. Her mouth twisted into a maniacal grin.
Stalker lurched forward, incensed. But Eyes held her fast.
'You have no idea what's coming. None,' Gaze-of-Purity cackled. She thrust her hand into the light and grabbed hold of the parchment. There was a blinding flash of light and then the room was plunged into darkness.
When Stalker's eyes adjusted, she saw that the parchment and Witch were gone. The veil was perfectly still.
'She didn't cross the veil,' Stalker murmured.
'No, she didn't,' Wind Talker confirmed.
Dust swirled in the air and the three of them stepped cautiously forward.
'Where did she go?' Eyes snapped.
'Somewhere else,' Wind Talker replied. 'She's gone, Alpha. I think that was some sort of portal. It doesn't look like she can come back.'
Eyes roared; the sound reverberated around the small room. He swung his hammer at the pillar and it shattered, stone flying across the floor. They made their way blindly back along the passage and up into the factory. The Green Man and the Wrecking Crew were gone, the Glass Wolves were slowly moving bodies around.
'What happened to...?' Claws' question died on his lips when he saw their faces.
'She got away,' Stalker replied.
'What do you mean she got away?' Theodore said, striding over to them.
'She disappeared into another realm or something,' Stalker said, not wanting to look at anyone.
Theodore looked hard at Eyes, then turned and dropped down into the hole. One of his pack mates that Stalker didn't know went after him.
'We're going to burn the corpses,' Weaver said. Her voice was hard and formal. 'But we'll send the Witches to the Furies and bury our own properly.'
'The Wrecking Crew have taken the Green Man to Hepethia,' Claws explained. 'There's a ritual to send him back to Alfheim. Spark is going to lead it, but she'd like your help, Wind Talker.'
Wind Talker nodded and wandered slowly over to Spark, who was busy piling up corpses.
Stalker collapsed to her knees. She placed her sweating palms on the cool grass and concrete. Ey
es knelt down beside her.
'We defeated them,' he said stiffly.
'You're trying to convince yourself of that,' Stalker said, smirking.
'Yes I am. But it's over. We did it. We dealt with the Green Man before he could resurrect the dead army, and most of the Witches are dead. Really dead this time, no demi-god to resurrect them.'
Stalker nodded.
'We lost a friend. She shouldn't have even been here. It was esoteric or scientific curiosity or whatever that brought her here, it wasn't her fight.'
'No it wasn't, and we will honour her.'
Theodore emerged from the hole, his face set in a grim expression. Stalker and Eyes looked up at him. He nodded, confirming their suspicions.
Movement by the door caught Stalker's eye and she looked past Theodore's bulky frame to see a dark shape flickering in the door to the garage. It moved into the room, a shifting, fluttering shadow. It took solid form, a young man with a red waistcoat, waving a white handkerchief over his head. Stalker frowned. He smelled strange, alien. Eyes followed her gaze, and gradually the room fell still as all eyes settled on the strange little fellow.
'Greetings.' His voice was warm and smooth. The two captured Witches sat tied up near the door and Stalker noticed them exchanging wide-eyed glances. They knew this figure.
Eyes got to his feet and helped Stalker up.
'Who are you?' he asked, striding forwards. He was covered in blood and his hammer was still held firmly in his hand.
'I am the envoy of the heir of Caerton,' he replied, still waving the handkerchief.
Theodore snorted, and a few of the Glass Wolves stifled laughter. Stalker failed to see the joke.
'Caerton has no heir. That archaic tradition died when we executed the last shifter styling himself “king”,' Theodore said, bitterness in his voice.
'As I'm sure you are aware, the last King was succeeded and his line has continued to thrive outside of the city. Your stewardship of the city will soon be redundant, when the heir returns to claim the throne. You all know this. Gleaming Blade will return to Caerton soon. You are to make preparations for the handover of power, in order to avoid bloodshed.'
'Is that a threat?' Eyes snarled.
'Of course,' the envoy replied, with a little bow of his head. 'I'll be taking them with me.' He pointed at the two Witches.
'Yes, I suppose you will,' Eyes replied. He didn't like the idea of keeping prisoners, though he had wanted to question them. 'The bodies of the fallen Witches too.'
The envoy nodded. The assembled shifters gathered the bodies together and lay them out at the envoy's feet. Vengeance-of-Steel ushered the captured Witches over and released them from their handcuffs.
'Make the preparations, or we can have open warfare if you prefer. It's up to you. You have three months to decide.'
The envoy shimmered and turned into shadowy smoke once more. There was a flash and he vanished, taking the Witches, dead and alive, with him.
Stalker released a shaking breath. She looked from Eyes to Theodore, and then around at the other shifters in the room. No one seemed to want to break the silence.
'Well?' she asked at last.
'Well,' Eyes replied, his gaze fixed on Theodore, who gave the smallest nod. 'I guess this means we're preparing for war.'
Chapter Forty-One
23rd March
Stalker twisted the paper napkin in her hot palms, rolling it into a thin strip then tying a knot in the middle. The café was stifling; people squeezed past her table, the hum of their voices like a busy bee hive. It was deafening. The pounding in her head wouldn't stop. She closed her eyes, trying to tune it out.
Last-Breath-Echoes was suspended on the end of the spear-like tendril, her mouth wide with shock. Dead. In an instant. Stalker couldn't shake the image from her head.
'Ariana?' Ron's voice yanked her attention back to the bustling little café and her eyes popped open. She leapt to her feet, shoving the metal chair back across the floor with a loud scrape.
'Ron, hi.' She tried to contort her face into a smile, but from his startled expression she realised she had barely managed a grimace. 'How are you?'
Ron nodded and pulled out the chair opposite, plonking his bulky girth into it. Stalker sat back down and glanced at the matted napkin in her hands. She shoved it into her jacket pocket and picked up her coffee mug.
'Not too bad, all things considered. I'm waiting for the insurance company to do their assessment.'
'Right, of course. Have you heard anything back from the police yet?'
'They said they couldn't find any evidence of foul play and handed it over to the insurance assessors.'
'Okay,' Stalker nodded and released a shaking breath. As long as she wasn't going to be investigated, that was all that really mattered right now.
'I'm just so relieved you weren't hurt,' Ron said kindly.
'Yeah, me too.' She forced a feeble smile. Last-Breath-Echoes was dead in her arms. She sipped her coffee and shoved the memory aside. 'It was probably faulty wiring or something.'
'I suppose,' Ron said stiffly. 'I can't let the business idle any longer. I've been looking into alternative premises, short term. There's a hall not far from here that we could rent. If we could just get the kids classes back up and running it would keep us ticking over. Thing is, if we let another week go by clients might start looking elsewhere. I don't want Central mopping up our kids.'
'Sure,' Stalker bobbed her head absently. Her friend's lifeless body was dropping from her hands as Fury pulled her away. I can't do this any more, it's too hard. A tear formed in the corner of her eye.
Someone at the next table stood up and bumped into Stalker, snapping her out of her maudlin thoughts. She sniffed back the tear and glanced anxiously around the heaving café.
'Are you all right?' Ron asked, leaning across the table.
'Sorry, yeah, I'm just a bit worried, you know, about the dojo and the business and everything. I didn't know if I would still have a job after the fire.'
'You have a job with me as long as you want one, Ariana,' he said softly, smiling affectionately. 'As long as I can keep the business afloat.'
They drank their coffees quietly amid the hubbub for several minutes. Stalker's mind kept flashing back to the fight with the Green Man, and the run in with the Knight-of-Shadowed-Fear that had caused her to destroy her own workplace, and the loss of the Blue Moon. Everything she cared about was taken from her. Her pack, her friends, her place of work. Was it her fault? Was she at the centre of all of this? Destruction seemed to be following her. Was that why her parents had given her up? Did they know this was to come? Had one of them had a vision about her life? She should walk away. She should tell Ron right now that she couldn't work for him any more. She was endangering all of the humans that she came into contact with.
We are the chosen few who must keep humanity close to our hearts, for if we fail to do so we fall into despair. Sometimes you will need those who loved you before to remind you of all that you are.
Shadow's Step had been wrong. Trying to hold onto her humanity had endangered people and caused so much suffering. She was falling into despair now, her humanity was her weakness and she needed to be strong.
'I'd better get going,' she said stiffly. She drained the dregs from her mug and stood to go.
'Ariana.' Ron's voice stopped her. 'Don't worry, we'll get it all straightened out and be up and running again before you know it.'
She nodded and patted his shoulder. She made her way between tightly packed tables and past the queue of people at the counter. She wrenched the door open and stepped out into the cool morning, taking a deep breath and feeling the breeze on her hot skin. Cars rushed past on the busy street and pedestrians brushed past her with disgruntled scowls. She didn't care.
A vibration in her pocket startled her and she tugged her phone from her jeans. She looked at the caller ID and sighed, she had been dreading this call. She moved quickly along the street to the corner and
darted into the quieter side street before answering.
'Hi. How are you?'
'Shit. You?' First Strike's voice was low and dull.
'Same.'
'Look, we're having the funeral tonight. Scribe is conducting it at Crescent Park. It's not normally the done thing to invite other packs, but Crimson said you guys should come.'
'Right, okay. I'll tell Eyes. Thanks.'
'Yeah, no worries.'
'She shouldn't have been there. I'm so sorry.'
'Yeah, I know. Whatever.'
First Strike hung up abruptly. Stalker stared at her phone for a moment, an ache in her chest. She punched in a hurried text message to Eyes to let him know, then set off at a sprint for her flat. As she rounded the corner at the end of her street she saw a man leaning against the building, one foot against the wall, his hands wedged deep into the pockets of a jacket. She stopped dead and stared at him. A painful lump had formed suddenly in her throat. It wasn't Fortune, it couldn't be. He was dead. The man looked her way, his dark hair tied back off his handsome face. She walked slowly towards Rhys, her feet dragging along the pavement. He pushed away from the wall and took a few steps towards her, a sad expression on his face. She stumbled into his arms and broke down in tears. He held her tight against his chest and stroked her hair.
'Let's go inside, come on,' he said softly. She passed him her keys and he unlocked the door, then helped her up the stairs and into her flat.
'She died,' Stalker croaked between sobs.
'I know.' Rhys calmly sat her down and took off her boots. Stalker let him look after her, too numb to resist.
'The funeral's tonight. I wish you could come.'
'Me too.' He sat beside her on the sofa and cradled her head.
'Shouldn't you be at work?' She tried to lift her head to look at him but her neck didn't want to cooperate.
'Not until this afternoon,' he said softly, still stroking her hair. 'I knew you needed me.'
'How?'
'Not sure.' She could feel a smile in his voice. He kissed her head and she let out a heavy sigh as the last tears fell. 'It's like I can feel you inside me,' Rhys said softly. 'Like we're connected at the heart.'
