The Gathering

by Michael Timmins

  “It doesn’t matter what you do to me, Sylvanis. My followers will continue to do what needs to be done!” Kestrel remained defiant. She ceased fighting and stood tall.

  Sylvanis couldn’t help but admire the woman, so strong-willed, so sure of herself and her purpose. If only she had been on the right side.

  “With you gone, Kestrel, it will only be a matter of time before your people evaporate like morning dew, just like they did the last time. They have no heart for this war. They only fight for power, or money, but they care little about what you believe.”

  She caught a flash of uncertainty in Kestrel’s eyes.

  “Yes. You know it to be true. Syndor may be the only one who truly believes as you do.”

  The uncertainty fled, instead, Sylvanis caught a hint of pain in Kestrel’s eyes.

  Had something happened to Syndor?

  It would be useful to know if they still had the Snake to deal with, but she doubted she would get any confirmation from Kestrel. That she had shown even a hint as to Syndor’s fate surprised Sylvanis.

  Stepping up to Kestrel, Sylvanis looked her in eyes.

  “For us, it hasn’t even been a year since I killed you. I have already used my magic to determine if there are any spells lingering on you like the last time. I will not be fooled again. This last spell required too much of your power, and so, you have not cast a contingency spell on yourself this time. There will be no resurrection for you.”

  Sylvanis steeled herself for what she was about to do. Again.

  “This time. When I execute you, you will stay dead.”

  With a quick motion, Sylvanis brought her knife up and plunged it into Kestrel’s heart.

  Clint stared at the Boar and the Boar stared back.

  Resigned, Clint extended his claws and moved to engage the Boar. His fury had abated and now he was simply tired. He had been so close to beating this fucker. So close and now, he would need to try and take him out again.

  When they came together, neither one held back. Tooth, claw and tusk. Clint slashed and snapped while the Boar bashed and jabbed. It all became a blur as they each tried to cause as much damage as they could.

  At length, they broke apart and Clint staggered back. His left ear had been ripped off and the side of his skull gleamed pale white from where the flesh had been torn. His right thigh had been ripped to shreds, the left side torn into tatters, strips of flesh and muscle hung like streamers at a party.

  The Boar fared little better; Clint had somehow managed to rip one of his tusks out, leaving a gaping bloody hole. His left arm clung to his shoulder by mere tendons causing it to flop and spin around, tangling up the thin threads, before unravelling in a quick spin.

  Panting, they faced off against each other again. Clint could feel his ear growing back and the muscles in his leg begin their repair. As he watched, a new tusk began to emerge from the face of the Boar and his arm began to knit.

  Movement off to his left at the edge of the clearing caught his attention. Figures began to emerge. Crocs and Boars, and Clint’s heart sank.

  With a snort, the Boar bared his teeth.

  Jessie lay pinned beneath the Croc, his arms out wide, held there by the sheer weight of the Croc’s body. When at last, the Croc could put weight on his arms, he rose up, his snout inches above Jessie’s own nose.

  Spittle dripped down onto his face and mouth and he turned his head to avoid its foulness from leaking inside his mouth. The Croc’s maw parted, and Jessie saw dozens of razor-sharp teeth like sentries guarding a dark and fetid cave.

  “I kind of like his face, so leave it the fuck alone.”

  As one, he and the Croc turned their heads. Kat stood there, claws on hips and her tiger tail slashing angrily back and forth in the air. For a moment, the Croc eased up on the pressure and Jessie slammed his head forward, taking the beast right the base of his snout.

  With the impact, the Croc reeled back, and Jessie used that moment to push the Croc off him.

  Scrambling to his feet he tottered over toward Kat.

  “You like my face?” He gave her an awkward smile.

  She gave him a withering look.

  “More than I like his.” She jerked a thumb at the Croc who, now back on his feet, faced them warily. Alone, they had given him trouble. Together, he must understand, he didn’t stand a chance.

  Figures stepped out from the trees behind the Croc. It took Jessie a moment to realize they were more Weres, and not one of them was on their side.

  “Shit!” Kat said perfunctorily.

  Jessie couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Fuasgail.” With that command, the roots released Kestrel’s body and she collapsed to lay on the soft earth. Sylvanis sank to her knees beside her. Kestrel had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was no longer there, but instead enjoying a vista of some far-off place.

  Reaching out, Sylvanis clasped the hilt of her knife in her right hand. With a quick yank, she pulled the knife from Kestrel’s bare chest. Blood bubbled out of the wound and ran in rivulets down Kestrels chest and side.

  “I’m sorry it has come to this again, Kestrel. I wish . . .” she faltered, hanging her head down, her blonde hair cascading around her face, tickling against Kestrel’s skin. “I wish things could have been different between us. I wish you had never forced me to do these things. I was not made for killing. I was made for growing things. For living things.”

  A tear formed in the corner of her eye, pooled and fell to the earth. A deep sadness fell over Sylvanis. Sadness, and relief. She had been reborn for this, and now it was done. Now she could rest. Maybe. Just maybe, she could return to her parents and try to be the daughter they had wanted.

  She knew, even as she thought it, that it would never be. They should have a little baby girl to grow with, to teach, to discover with. Not a grown woman two millennia old.

  What she would do with her life now, she didn’t know. Well, the rest of the Trues still needed to be dealt with — the Boar, Croc, Rat and the Snake, though she wondered if Syndor had already been dealt with. She couldn’t imagine any other fate for him that would have caused Kestrel to have shown any pain.

  She sighed. The war was not over. Not really. Merely a battle won.

  Laughter startled her, and she glanced up.

  Kestrel stared right at her, an amused smile on her face.

  “What?” Sylvanis began and watched in horror as the wound in Kestrel’s chest closed.

  Bones broke and Kestrel’s body began to alter.

  Sylvanis tried to climb quickly to her feet, but a clawed hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. The skin of her arm parted as a sharp talon dragged a furrow through it.

  Sylvanis stared at the hand holding her arm. Pink-skinned fingers ended in sharp claws. Brown fur covered the arm from the wrist up. As Sylvanis’ eyes moved up the arm, she met Kestrel’s gaze.

  Beady black eyes stared back at her. Gone was the alabaster skin. Gone were the high cheekbones, the full lips and slight upturned nose. Now, it was a rat’s face looking at her.

  No. It’s not possible. In no scenario did Sylvanis ever believe Kestrel would allow someone to have control over her as she would have to in order to become a Were. She would never trust anyone that much. It just wasn’t possible.

  Only it was. The proof was staring back at her. Worse, Kestrel had cut her. Had infected her.

  Kestrel’s rat face parted in a wicked, needle-like toothed grin.

  “Got you.”

  EPILOGUE

  Not for the first time the rage overtook her, but she had little to destroy anymore. The bank of monitors which had been set up for Shae to watch the news had long since been smashed. Shattered screens and consoles still buzzed with power, but they held no windows to the outside world. There were no windows anywhere.

  After Samuel had left her here, she had reveled in having a place of her own. There were TV shows and movies to watch, so much of which she had been unable to
see while she had been held prisoner and experimented on by Daniel and the organization he worked for.

  There was plenty of food as well. Microwave dinners, frozen meats, instant potatoes and other instant meals. Hundreds of packages of powdered milk and fruit drinks, cases of soda and gallons of coffee grounds.

  She spent a day or two getting comfortable with being in the bunker and spending time just . . . doing nothing. Oh, she spent time watching the news for hours on end waiting for any reference to Kestrel and the rest of the Weres. Afterall, she had been brought here to do just that.

  Eventually though, she got bored and went to go outside to get some sun. Only, the door would not open. She pressed her hand against the identification screen, and it beeped angerly at her and turned red. Again, and again she put her hand on it, and again and again it refused to identify her as someone the door would open to.

  She immediately tried to call Kestrel, but her phone had no reception. She knew that of course. She had discovered that the first day, but she had thought nothing of it because if she needed to ever make a call, she could go up to the surface and call from there.

  Only she couldn’t.

  She wasn’t worried — at first. She thought it must be a computer error. Some technical issue as to why the scanner didn’t recognize her. Everything would be taken care of as soon as Samuel came back. Or better yet, when Kestrel came to visit her.

  Days went by. Then more days passed, and no one came. No one attempted to contact her. No checking up on her. Nothing.

  Still, she tried not to panic. They were busy. Kestrel fought a war. Shae couldn’t expect her to drop everything and come and visit her. She would have to be patient.

  After two weeks, she didn’t believe there was anything wrong with the scanner. A dark realization crept up on her. She fought against it. Denied it. Kestrel was her friend. She had told Shae she had been like a daughter, or a younger sister she never had. They had shared so much.

  A month went by and Shae knew she had been betrayed. Worse than betrayal because not only had Kestrel betrayed her, but she had trapped her here in this bunker. And though it was far more comfortable than her last prison, it was a prison, nonetheless.

  Even after knowing what being imprisoned had done to Shae, Kestrel had still done it.

  She tore apart her room in a fit of rage. Shifting into her hybrid form, she smashed the TV monitors, shattered the table and broke the chairs.

  When her anger at long last simmered down, she had gone to work on the door to the outside. With her enhanced strength she hammered the door, again and again. With all her strength she battered at it, breaking her hands and wrists, healing, and punching it again until she broke them all over again.

  It remained undamaged.

  Whatever metal had been used to create the door remained impervious to her attacks, even with her increased strength.

  She gave up on the door and moved to the walls and ceiling. For days, she tried everything to open a hole in a wall or the ceiling. And for days, she failed.

  At last, she resigned herself to her cage. There was no escape. She was trapped here, in this prison and she could do nothing about it.

  Kestrel had used her and discarded her as her real mother had. Just like Anne had, just as George had. Kestrel had befriended Shae. Treated her with kindness and caring and Shae had grown to care for Kestrel as well. For so long she had been devoid of real human interaction. Real caring interaction, and so Shae had let her walls drop.

  She had begun to trust for the first time in years. Not only trust, but care about someone. The more time she and Kestrel had spent together, the closer they had become. They had sat up late into the night and did things Shae believed actual girls did when they hung out together. It had been the most normal her life had been since those early days with Anne.

  It had been one of those nights Kestrel had told her what her important job would be. Kestrel knew she hadn’t wanted to be a part of the war and had told her many times she had a different job for her.

  When she told Shae all she needed to do was give her lycanthropy, Shae had been relieved. Despite the new trust she had felt for Kestrel, she still feared the woman would ask her to do something she knew Shae didn’t want to do but would leverage their friendship so Shae would feel obligated to help.

  Instead, she had asked for something simple, though Shae knew it would be dangerous for Kestrel, Shae certainly could do it.

  After she had cut her, Kestrel had told her she had one other task for her. That she should leave with Samuel who would take her somewhere safe and would have something she could do to help the war effort without doing any fighting.

  She had happily agreed.

  Now, she was here. Trapped in this bunker, with no way out. She could sense Kestrel, somewhere to the south and west. Most likely still in Houston. It was maddening to be connected to someone who had betrayed her so completely.

  Sobs wracked her and the tears flowed like the hope draining from her life.

  It seemed her fate in life was to be linked to those who had hurt her the most. Kestrel. And Daniel.

  Daniel? She sent out a mental call toward the presence in her mind she knew to be him.

  The presence answered.

  Cirrus arrived in Houston the day before all hell broke loose. It had been somewhat difficult to track where his father had gone to when he had died. Fortunately for Cirrus, he had paid attention to many of the things his father had done in his presence.

  It wasn’t often his father had conducted business in front of him, but when he did, Cirrus remembered everything. It was one of those things he could do. Names, places, people his father had dealt with on regular basis, banks he had transacted with, passwords he used, Cirrus remembered it all.

  Using what he knew, he had tracked his father first to Chicago. He learned much about what had happened there, but consistent with his father’s manner, he had managed to not be openly involved with the events.

  From Chicago, he tracked him to Houston and arrived in town and went about trying to find where he had taken up residence. Through his father’s contacts he learned about the battle at the hospital and figured out it had been where his father had died.

  His arrival at the hospital had been unproductive. The government had barricaded the place off and wouldn’t allow anyone in. If his father’s body had been recovered from there, Cirrus had no way of knowing.

  He realized the only place he would find answers for his father’s death was from the woman, Kestrel, to whom his father had pledged his loyalty and service. She would have knowledge of what happened.

  According to his sources, she still operated in Houston somewhere, Cirrus had no way of finding out. He wasn’t the only person looking for her and so he guessed she might be laying low.

  He couldn’t be more wrong.

  The second day in Houston, nature went on the attack. Trees began erupting from the Earth, destroying everything in their wake. Stuck on the tenth floor of his hotel, Cirrus knew he was in trouble. The building began to shake, like some giant shaking a fruit tree to see what would fall out.

  Desperately, Cirrus raced down the stairs, but when he reached the fifth floor, the stairwell, a huge tree bole blocked the way. Backtracking, he climbed back to the sixth floor and exited the stairwell. On his left, a floor to ceiling window.

  A roaring sound from outside sent Cirrus to the window to see what caused it. Two buildings away, a parking garage collapsed around shoots of branches which had torn through the support braces.

  Dread washed over Cirrus as the building he stood in continued to shift and shake. It was only a matter of time before it went down, like the parking garage. He turned back to look down the hallway.

  Panicked people scrambled around the hallway, some pushing past him to enter the stairwell. He didn’t bother to tell them they were wasting their time. He had to think.

  The chances of using the elevator were slim to none. They were already in heavy ro
tation and waiting around for one to open on his floor and having enough room to fit him in seemed unlikely. Especially given the pile of humanity already pressed into the little off shoot hallway holding the elevators.

  Which left one other option.

  Looking back out the window he checked below.

  Nothing but concrete and asphalt.

  None of the tree branches had broken through this side of the wall which may have given him something to catch on the way down. Or better yet, something to climb.

  Cirrus knew he had increased healing, but a fall from the sixth floor?

  A loud cracking sound cut through the chaos and Cirrus wheeled around. The far side of the hallway sheared off and fell away from the building. Screams of panic came from those still clustered into the hallway and those unfortunate to still be on that side of the hotel. People began to press themselves into the tight area of the elevators, crushing those before them.

  Cirrus turned back and slammed his fist against the window, shattering it.

  Closing his eyes, he focused on an image of himself in his hybrid form and felt his body shift. The pain hurt less now he had practiced it since that fateful day his father had died, and he gained the power which had once been his father’s.

  There were different shouts of alarm from behind him, but he ignored it. Moving to the edge of the open window, he glanced down again. Nope, the scene hadn’t changed. It still looked painful.

  Sighing, he jumped out of the window. Wind blasted past him as he fell, a roar in his sensitive ears. When he hit, he tried to turn it into a roll, but one leg snapped and he pitched forward, slamming his head against the ground.

  Things went black momentarily and his head throbbed in time with the painful throb in his leg. Warmth spread through his body as its healing powers began to fix the damage incurred from the fall.