by Jayne Hawke
I fought the urge to fidget, a stupid nervous reflex, and then felt Dean’s muscles stretching against my shin and remembered something I’d been told once: Your instincts were surviving the savannah when you were a monkey fresh out of the trees. If your body wants to do something, do it. I followed the instinct, but remained as silent as I could, letting the nervous energy slide into my fingers and toes and out.
My next instinct made more sense and left me feeling silly for not thinking of it. The stars could see. It was what they did, what they were. Their magic was splashing down around us, and I was squinting in it like a fool. Allowing my magic to furl out, I grabbed onto a few beams of starlight and borrowed a scrap of their sight. Not enough to make an enemy, just enough to survive. The stars were generous, granting their light to the entire world even when the moon hid her face.
When I did, I saw the fury in sudden white-on-blue flagrancy. It was crawling down the tree we were next to, its black wings tucked by its sides as it slipped down the trunk in search of its quarry.
Before it could notice that I was watching it, I drew a throwing knife and tossed it upwards with all the self-assuredness a city-slicker blood witch fighting off a bloodless primordial avenger in an unfamiliar moorland with nothing but her pet cu sith at her side could muster. I watched the dagger sink into its chest and savoured the pure, glorious A-sharp scream of the beast as it flew away in agony. Dean matched it with a loud howl, a sound so perfectly beautiful I almost wished it was meant for me even though I knew that the fury whose ears it was meant for had been infused with the most perfect fear a fae hound could instil.
I took a brief moment to consider whether the Greek primordials even experienced fae influence the way we did. Perhaps their power was as much a result of our primal terror and respect for them as it was a literal magical ability.
Before I could give the idea any more thought, I felt a dark emptiness pass overhead and felt my tie to the starlight float down as if any tether to things above was a pretty fantasy now forgotten. Instantly, the blackness returned. Maddened, I swept my blood witch webwork around in a circle as if a poor fisherman sweeping his net at nothing. I almost reached into Dean’s skull, hoping his canine senses would catch the enemy this time, but realized I had nothing like the knowledge to be digging around in the minds of my friends for sensory threads. I was getting desperate, and that was dangerous.
I pushed down my panic and took stock. Our enemy could sever magic and fly. It could hide in the dark. Those were its strengths. Its weaknesses were that it was outnumbered (insofar as Dean’s recumbent lump could be considered a participant here), out of its territory, wounded, and armed only with the tools of a disciplinarian.
Well, that and claws.
The fact was, there were only three furies, and they weren’t invulnerable. Nothing was. That meant that they’d been fighting and living to fight another day since before the invention of time gave meaning to ‘forever’. As long as she thought she could break us down with her scourge and her speed, she’d keep it up. She was probably enjoying making us wait, scared in the dark like this.
If she thought she could actually die, though, that would be something else entirely. Nothing survived as long as she had without knowing when to let go of a target. I didn’t want to start a war with the furies; I hadn’t even wanted to find out they existed. All I wanted as to see this threat off and go back to my life, and that was what I was going to do.
With a plan in place, I placed myself in an open clearing where I’d be easily found. Dean sat at my side, faithful to the end.
“You realize you’re not all that useful, right?” I whispered to him.
He turned a circle and sat back down, chuffing at me. I didn’t have time to argue with a dog, fae or otherwise. I could hear the flapping of the fury in the distance. It was off to my right, so I turned that direction and reached into my war-god magic with as much will and force of personality as I could. It had to know who was boss, know that this was the moment I needed it most, and with my will feeding down into the quicksilver orb of it I was sure of what I and it could do together.
I closed my eyes and listened to the slow, languorous flapping. It was pitch black anyway, but somehow closing my eyes let me focus on my other senses. I listened to every wingbeat, picturing it coming closer. Flap, flap, flap. So close now, grass rustling in the downdrafts as it passed over, the scourge so close I could feel it on my back.
Now. Time to spring my trap. I threw my hand up above me and dragged at the war god within me, ready to shock the fury out of its dreams of killing me and send it running for the hills. I envisioned a sparkling flare of magic and some sort of weapon in its wake. What I got was... nothing.
The fury swooped down at my undefended form and struck unimpeded. The thrup-thrup-thrup sound again landed along my shoulder blades, jacket untouched, and again I felt the wounds cut deep into me until blood slid down my back in prideless acknowledgement of the battle’s course.
I heard Dean at my feet once again and restrained the urge to kick him. Whatever game he was playing, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting upset. If that meant a thousand turns under the fury’s wheal, I’d take them and let him see me smile under the needle when it was over.
I knew my plan was still sound, even if the show of force I’d hoped my war magic would grant me wasn’t meant to be. Brave Greek monsters got clubbed by Hercules or turned into stone by Perseus. The ones that survived to torment the likes of me were canny, wary, circumspect. They walked away from losing battles.
I leaned down to whisper in Dean’s ear, the massive hound still lolling uselessly at my feet. “Alright Wonder Dog, you’re up. She slows down, you jump on her and cu sith your little heart out. I want her complaining all the way back to the Aegean, or I’m going straight to the pound to trade you for a Yorkie and see if I fucking don’t.”
Again I stood in the clearing, again I made myself a target. Every second I could feel the scourge at my back, but it took forever before I heard the flapping of our quarry. In she came, flapping hard, confident now despite her wound. She had forgotten where she was. This was the Fae Isles, and her kind weren’t welcome here.
The second I felt her weapon piece my skin, I slid my mind into the blood of my back and clutched on. There was plenty of me already on the weapon, more drawn out from the latest strike, and I built it all into a glue so strong she couldn’t hope to break her scourge free. It was only a moment’s window before she’d have thrown down the instrument of torture and moved to her claws - far deadlier anyway – but it was enough. Dean was in the air, black dog howl on his terrible lips, and I felt as much as heard his chops grip on fury wingbone.
A sound that was more a magical projection than a vibration in the air scraped free of the beast as it threw Dean free of it and sped off into the night. It was simply acknowledgement, nothing more or less. I gave a small nod towards the departing sound and wondered if I would ever meet it again, meet its pantheon even. I hoped I would, even as I knew that I was more likely to meet their assassins than their peacemakers.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Having no use of my magic against the assassin had been scary and frustrating. I chastised myself for getting so dependent on it so fast. Even the little bit I used at the end there was a rush that tinged on euphoria. Breathing the crisp air in slowly, I pushed it away. That way lay madness.
“What happened?” Ethan shouted as he ran up to us.
He ran his hands over me and growled when he touched blood.
“Your stupid fucking dog decided to play Scooby fucking Doo instead of help me against a fury, is what happened.”
Dean was switching back to his human form even as I spoke.
“What do you mean? I was the one that drove her off!”
“Don’t even think about playing games with me now. You wanted to test me? You wanted to see what I could do? Maybe have a little fun while you did it, pretend you were a real doggie? Well you did
it. I drove off a fury with nothing but the world’s stupidest wolfhound and the power of hope. Watch your back next time you need a real fighter to hold your leash, you just might find that war dogs really do fight alone.”
Dean laughed, no artifice or deception in it.
“You were new to the pack; I gave you your shot at glory. You did fine! You want someone to hold your hair back while you puke, we’re not that. We’re cu sith and cait sidhe, war dogs and bog cats, we fight to live or we die trying.” He nodded to Ethan, no hint of deference present. “He’s in love with you, that’s plain, and he’s the alpha for as long as he can hold it.”
Ethan stiffened, but said nothing.
“That doesn’t mean we take moonmen on their own say so. Maybe you’re a goddess, and maybe you aren’t, but you’ll prove it every night and every day.”
I clenched my fists and saw the war magic, at long last, come to life and fit them with familiar war gauntlets. The power glimmered in the darkness, unmistakeable threat in pearlescent glory.
“Let me make something extremely clear to both of you. On my best day, you’re both dogfood. On my worst, I’m going to be looking to you for help. If a pack means I have to fight for myself while Wonder Dog,” I gestured at Dean, “tallies up my GPA, I might as well fly solo. If I haven’t proven myself,” I held my war gauntlets in front of me, sharp claws up and glimmering, “then please by all fucking means let’s settle the issue here and now. Otherwise, this is the last time I play games with any of you.” I looked at Ethan, spreading out my words into incontrovertible statements of their own, a definitive pause between each and every one. “I will live and die for you, but this is the last test and the last time you cut me out or treat me like a neophyte.”
I punctuated it with a flourish of my gauntlets, and I meant it. I didn’t know the story behind the fae packs any more than I knew what the fury cults believed in, but I had paid my dues and proved my worth, and if there was anyone who didn’t think so I had no interest in their opinion.
Ethan looked around into the darkness and growled.
“We’re moving to the safe house,” he said definitively.
“I’m going home for a nice hot shower,” I said.
Ethan looked at me and gently caressed my cheek.
“I want you and Matt with us. I know you can kick ass, but this is getting more dangerous. Would be so awful to spend a little time in our safe house with us?”
I sighed. He wasn’t wrong, and I did need to think about Matt.
“It’s already late and I’m exhausted,” I said.
“At least stay here tonight, then,” Ethan said.
He looked to Dean for back up.
“You know he’s not wrong. You’ve already had that elf in your house, and now this. It’s only going to get worse,” Dean said.
“Fine. We’ll go there tomorrow,” I said reluctantly.
I hated the feeling of losing control and being pushed around. It wasn’t Ethan, he was doing his best to give me room and respect my need to stand on my own two feet. The assassins had just taken my childhood home from me, and they were going to pay for that.
Ethan and Kerry had both insisted on coming with us back home the following morning. I hadn’t missed the fact that Matt had stayed in Kerry’s room the night before. He had a warm glow about him and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. I allowed myself to enjoy his happiness and used it to remind myself that I was doing the right thing. He was my priority. I needed to do what was best for him.
My clothes had been burnt the night before, undamaged but thoroughly bloodied, leaving me to wear one of Ethan’s shirts. The sleeves hung down to my mid-thigh, and Kerry had to lend me a belt to put around the middle. If it had been warmer, I could have easily worn it as a dress. As it was, I was wearing a pair of Kerry’s black jeans and my boots. The fury hadn’t done those any harm, thankfully.
It didn’t take too long for me to pack everything up. We didn’t know how long we’d be in the safe house, so I packed clothes and toiletries for every occasion. I tucked my only pair of sexy underwear and matching bra deep into the bag so no one saw it was there. The opportunity to let Ethan see them might arise, and I realised I was ready for that moment. Of course, it really wasn’t the time to be thinking like that. Shaking my head, I tried to get my thoughts back on track.
The assassins knew where I was. That meant they were tracking me somehow. I’d been careful with my magic; the pack had said the signature wasn’t particularly prominent. So, someone must have gotten hold of something tied to me so the assassins could track me via that. I wasn’t a fool. I made sure no one got my hair, and they hadn’t gotten any of my blood willingly.
I was thinking back over the cases I’d done as a bounty hunter. There had been a good few rough jobs where they’d drawn my blood. Someone could have been creepy enough to keep some. I wracked my brain trying to think if any fae had had an opportunity to keep my blood. None came to mind.
Then I remembered the hounds and the gods that we’d saved. It wasn’t entirely unreasonable to think that one those betrayed me. The gods had a bad place in the world, and they would surely have felt what I was. One of them could have gotten some of my blood from the fight scene and handed it to a fae lord or lady as a bartering tool. I cursed loudly and prolifically.
“Everything ok?” Ethan asked.
“I’m just trying to figure out how the assassins are tracking me.”
I put the backpack onto my shoulder and picked up the holdall full of toiletries and weapons. Ethan held out his hand to take the holdall from me.
“There are just too many options. You’ll drive yourself mad trying to figure out where they got the signature from,” Ethan said.
“It was probably the fight with the hounds. You were using a lot of magic. A hound that stayed out of the fight could have gotten it then,” Kerry said.
She was right. I was trying to save people and look where it had gotten me.
TWENTY-NINE
Matt’s mountain of alchemy books was almost as tall as he was.
“Haven’t you heard of a thing called the internet...?” I asked.
Matt rolled his eyes at me.
“These are all old books, translations from fae. Most of my textbooks have been digitised, but these are the really old ones,” he said.
I had no smartass reply for that.
The safe house was an unassuming red-brick building down near the river. It appeared to have seen better days, and the exterior was well-worn, but the roof looked solid and the windows were all clean and unbroken. The pack all parked out front in a neat row, leaving plenty of room for quick escapes should they be needed. I stepped out and looked around the cracked concrete with small green plants bursting between the cracks.
“Home, sweet home,” I muttered.
The front door was a wide, heavy metal door with rivets around the edges. I noted that the windows were all set back into the heavy walls and there was a crackle of heavy magic that washed over the entire building. Looking around, there wasn’t another living soul anywhere nearby. I picked up my backpack and started approaching the building. It stretched up three storeys tall and was capped with a dark slate roof. At first glance, it didn’t look like somewhere you wanted to be after dark.
The buildings on either side had gaps large enough for a big truck to comfortably drive down. Neither of those buildings looked like they had anyone in residence. As I walked up to our new home, I noted there was no graffiti, normal or magical. A quick glance at the river showed the river to be clear and without any malicious beings. Still, the feeling of unease wouldn’t shift. The pack had been around for centuries, they knew what they were doing, I told myself.
Ethan opened the heavy metal door, which was a good six inches thick. It swung open easily on well-oiled hinges, but it gave me the distinct impression of a fortress. I followed him inside, expecting the interior to be rough and basic. It was the stark opposite. Beautiful oak floors stretc
hed out before us. Pale silver fae orbs hung just over six feet above us, casting a bright light over the spacious entryway.
I tugged my boots off and placed them on the boot rack before following Ethan deeper into the house. The hallway was wide enough for three people to walk abreast. The duck-egg-blue walls gave it a slightly homey, if chilly, feel. I looked through the doorways as we passed them on our way to the back of the building. On the right was a huge dining room complete with an antique-looking table large enough to seat twelve people. The next room was a very comfortable living room complete with huge heather purple sofas big enough to use as beds.
Matt paused and grinned at the tv on the wall. It wasn’t that much smaller than the one in Ethan’s private sanctuary. The kitchen was unsurprisingly well-appointed. The table was heavy and made from more hardwood. Ten seats were positioned around it. Ethan walked around the island as big as my bed and began checking the cupboards. They held jars and tins, but the fridge was entirely barren when Cade opened it.
“We’ll stock up,” Cade said.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Ethan said with a smile.
Kerry had already taken Matt’s hand and was leading him back towards the stairs. He was very willing to let her lead him wherever she pleased.
“We’re on the top floor,” Ethan said as we started up the floors.
We continued past the first floor where Kerry had led Matt down a long hallway. The top of the stairs opened into a generously sized landing with three doors leading off it. Ethan pointed to the white door furthest from us.
“My room, but it could be our room...” he said with a grin. I was sorely tempted. “Your room if you choose.” He pointed to the middle door. “And that’s my office,” he said, pointing to the leftmost door.
