by Jayne Hawke
"Yes," the alpha growled.
"What Alpha Zoe forgot to mention is that a third component is needed." Rhian gave a small nod of respect to the alpha. "The stone must be paired with a rare powder formed of moon beams and a lost flower to make the stone truly work. It was a safeguard to try and protect the shifters. The fallen who made it grew those flowers, and only she knew where to find them."
"Thank you for your time. You've been incredibly helpful," I said as I stood.
Rhian walked us out to the door.
"These are my pack. When you are ready to kill Rafe, you will come and get me. Do you understand?" she growled.
I wanted to argue. We didn't know what we were walking into.
She pushed into my space.
"I am a capable fighter. I deserve the right to taste the blood of the bastard who did this to my pack."
"We'll come and get you. We promise," Ash said.
"Only you. We are not bringing the entire pack into this?" I said.
"Agreed."
I just hoped that Rhian was as good as she said she was.
THIRTY-ONE
We drove to the closest cafe where we could sit and talk in peace. I didn't want to be cooped back up in the apartment. The cafe allowed me to look out the window and have a change of surroundings.
"So, we need to figure out if he's gotten these flowers," Ash said.
"And how he got them into the shifters," I said.
"Assuming he did somehow find these flowers, what methods are there for getting them into someone?"
"Food, drink. They're not going to just chew on some flowers."
"The cafe! The brownie-run place! They all went there."
"Aw man, I was really rooting for the brownies to not be dark side," Ash said.
"There's hope yet."
Ash dropped some money on the table to pay for the coffee we hadn't drunk before we headed out to the car. I found the address of the cafe on my phone.
"It's not too far from here. Remember, we need to be discrete and respectful," I said.
"I can be discrete and respectful."
"No asking for free shit."
"That was one time!"
"This case."
"We're not counting the previous cases."
"Why not? Why would that make any sense?"
I wasn't looking forward to trying to question a brownie. They were very nice homely fae that loved cooking and cleaning. Unfortunately, they could be temperamental about being disrespected, which meant we needed to tread lightly. There wasn't time to try and find a suitable gift for them. We'd just have to buy some cookies or something and hope that was enough to appease them.
It seemed unlikely that the brownies were in on it, at least intentionally. They enjoyed making people happy.
Traffic was far heavier than was ideal. We ended up crawling along one of the main roads through the city. Sighing, I looked out of the window and took in the surroundings. Most of the shops were focused on fashion, with one being centred around herbs. The puka fashion looked really good that season, a lot of pretty greys and dark blues. The human fashion, however, was not to my taste at all. The woollen shop was full of peppy pinks and soft yellows. Not that I'd wear woollens to begin with, thermal underclothes aside.
"Do you want me to get you a pretty pink beanie hat for your birthday?" Ash teased.
I glared at him.
I'd completely forgotten about my birthday. Normal people would be celebrating with friends, having cake and drinks. I was trying to track down some bastard who'd corrupted shifters so he could put them in a zoo. It took a really dark mind to put together everything he'd done. There was a good chance we were going to kill him just to remove the evil from the world. Maybe the fae would be upset that we didn't include them, but hearing about Rafe's youth made me not really give a damn anymore. The world would be a better place without him in it.
"We will celebrate your birthday. It won't be flashy, but I did promise," Ash said as he squeezed my hand.
"We'll worry about that once we've saved the shifters," I said.
We finally got moving again, and the brownie cafe was within sight. Ash took the last parking space within a block, and we walked briskly towards the cafe.
"Remember, be respectful."
"I'm not some dumbass," Ash said.
"I know. I'm on edge."
"We'll save the day. It's what we do."
My mind went back to the idea of having Rhian fighting at our side. Shifters had some immunity to magic, but none of their own. She'd be fighting tooth and claw against the gods only knew what. We knew that Rafe had a witch on his side, and a number of artifacts. It was a big risk, taking Rhian along with us. Still, not doing so would upset her and thus the pack.
The edge of Sighthill where the cafe resided stood in stark contrast to the far side where the shifters resided, nestled against the great forest. The buildings were short, blocky, pale-grey affairs. They had clearly been built with a desire for efficiency and low cost rather than anything pretty. It felt as if there should have been a roughness to the area with all of the sharp edges and less-than-attractive appearances. Still, everyone walking down the street did so at a casual pace with no signs of fear or aggression.
Blocky apartments could be seen a couple of streets over. The cafe sat in the middle of a road populated by launderettes, small grocery shops, fast food places, and other cafes. Ash looked at the kebab shop longingly. We hadn't had a kebab since we'd been desperate and gotten one from the truck at the side of the road. It was three in the morning. We hadn't eaten in almost two days.
The 'meat' had a slight green tinge to it. I suspected it had been formed from crushed up rodents, but there was no way of proving its origins. What I did know is, it had cleared out our stash of healing potions and we hadn't touched one since. Ash gave me a hopeful look, and I shook my head. There wasn't a chance that I was taking that risk again. It might have been in a shop rather than a sketchy truck by the road, but I still didn't have enough healing potions stocked up to repeat that experience.
The brownie cafe Starkroast was a bright dot of colour against the soft greys around it. The frontage was a pretty shade of maroon with elegant gold script marking the name on the sign. I breathed in deep and caught the scents of vanilla, tea, and cinnamon on the breeze. My mouth watered just at the thought of it. Brownies were reputed to be incredible cooks. The younger knights had tried to convince the elders to bring a brownie in to help around the mansion. The elders had told us it was character building to do our own cleaning and cooking.
We had disagreed vocally, and the herb generation had cooked for us one week. I'd had to sneak out and hunt bunnies that week. Even after the revolt that had followed, the elders refused to bring in a brownie. At least we managed to stop the herb generation from cooking again.
THIRTY-TWO
Starkroast was a warm and inviting building full of happy people engaged in conversations. Ash and I walked between the small round tables past people who looked as though they were having a wonderful time. I immediately reached out to feel if they had been magically drugged. Sure, I was cynical, but it had kept me alive thus far.
There were no immediate signs of magical drugs running through them, but I didn't want to delve deep into their magic. That seemed a bit too rude and extreme. Ash had put on his brilliant smile as we approached the counter, which had beautifully decorated cakes and little macarons on display. I'd never had a macaron before. They were supposed to wonderful and melt on the tongue. I'd taste one one day, maybe even in Paris.
"Hi, we're knights. We'd like to ask a few questions if that's ok?" I asked as I showed the brownie behind the counter my pendant.
His eyes went wide.
"Oh, I'm not the manager, I just help serve the cakes. Aoife, can you talk to these knights for me?"
A plump woman with thick, curled bright-blonde hair bustled out of the kitchen to greet us.
"Do come through, we'd be happy to he
lp the Knights in any way we can."
We walked around the counter and followed the Aoife through the wide door into the kitchen. The space was somehow absolutely pristine despite there being mixing bowls full of dough, cookies in the oven, and a fresh cake cooling on the cooling racks. I couldn't make a simple tray of cookies without coating everything, myself included, in flour.
"Would you like a scone? You look absolutely famished."
She held out a plate full of large scones beautifully cooked with golden tops.
"We would love one, thank you very much," I said.
It would be rude to say no. Ash still looked at me with a raised eyebrow. It was different if she offered.
"Cream or jam first?"
We couldn't afford clotted cream. That was far beyond our pay grade.
"Oh, cream is-"
"Don't be silly, you're wasting away. It won't cost you a penny," she said.
"Erm, cream first, then, please."
There was a debate between Cornwall and Devon as to which went on a scone first: cream, or jam. I'd always been taught that cream went on first with a nice dollop of raspberry jam on top. A fight broke out in one of the rich cafes when someone served scones with blackcurrant jam. It was all anyone was talking about for the rest of the month.
Aoife handed us each a scone slathered in cream and jam. She watched closely as we each raised a scone and took our first bite. I had to bite back a moan of pleasure. That was beyond bliss. The cream was thick, perfectly sweet, and then the jam was a hit of fresh fruit and a touch of tartness to balance everything. If I died in the next moment, I would die happy.
"These are incredible, thank you so much," I said.
Aoife beamed at us.
"Now, then, what is it you wanted to ask? Tea?"
"A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you," I said.
Aoife bustled over to the corner, where a little tea area had been created. An electric kettle sat next to boxes of tea bags from various brands and flavours. I normally got whatever was cheap and didn't pay attention to anything fancy. It looked like Aoife was a connoisseur.
"Milk and sugar?"
"No, thank you," Ash said.
Once the cups of tea were made, I felt as though we were finally ready to get down to the questions.
"Would you by any chance know of a flower called moon lily?"
"Oh, well, now, that's very rare, indeed. I thought that only two plants were in existence. The fallen goddess who used to tend them disappeared. I couldn't find them, of course, but I have heard of such a thing. Why?"
This was where it got tricky.
"The shifters who went rogue... well, we believe they ingested some moon lily."
Aoife began playing with the hem of her apron.
"And they came here, didn't they?"
"I'm afraid so. Have you seen anything odd?"
"Well, there was something. I didn't see it, but I know that Andrew was up to something. It's not his fault, really. He's such an innocent soul, I'm sure he thought he was just helping someone."
"Is Andrew here? Can we ask him what happened?"
"Yes, yes, of course."
Aoife went out to the front of the shop and brought back a young brownie with a shock of pale-brown hair and large, dark violet eyes.
"You tell these knights the truth," Aoife said.
"Are you familiar with moon lily, Andrew?"
"I... I thought it would help them, and he paid me so well."
"Who paid you to do what?" I asked gently.
Andrew's shoulders hunched.
"There was a man. Something about him made him scary. Not the way a dullahan or barghest is scary, it was something different. His eyes were like shiny pebbles of hatred. He'd been coming to the cafe for a month, and every day he watched the shifters like he wanted to devour them. One day when I was closing up, he approached me. His words were gentle, but I could feel the malice about him. He gave me a lot of money and told me to put the white dust into the coffee of the shifters on his list. He said it would help them during the full moon."
Andrew swallowed.
"I knew he was lying, but I didn't want to turn him down. He looked like he'd eat me alive."
I couldn't help but feel bad for the young brownie. Rafe was clearly a dangerous man.
"Did you happen to get his name?" Ash asked.
"His friend called him Rafe. The friend was a witch. He always wore foreign magic on him. It was weird strange magic, some from the gods themselves," Aoife said.
It sounded like we had the information we needed.
"Do you have some of the dust left, Andrew?" I asked.
"Just a little."
I only needed a touch to confirm our suspicions. If it was moon lily, then it would have moon and god magic wrapped within it.
THIRTY-THREE
We had everything we needed to go and track down Rafe and put an end to him. The evidence was all stacked up, and now we just needed to see where he was hiding and what we might be up against. As much as I desperately wanted to charge in and put an end to the asshole, it was potentially suicide with a collection of unknown artifacts to run up against. The witch, Nicholas, was an unknown, too.
Ash had settled himself into the middle of the apartment living space and was carefully threading magic into more rounds. He was making sure he had something ready for everything. Water, fire, poison, storm. With the size of the fight we might be walking into, he was making entire magazines of individual energy types for his 1911s. Each would be enough to bring down a crowd of one thing in particular. It lacked the whimsy (and ease of production) of his normal catch-as-catch-can technique, but it was one thing to play around when we were exploring potential leads and another to go into a definite combat situation unprepared.
I threw myself into figuring out what artifacts Rafe might try and throw at us. Given that Rafe was very likely behind the dullahan that had come after us in the forest behind the shifter house, I felt pretty good about assuming he knew we'd be coming.
“I’ve managed to find a short list of artifacts this ‘Rafe’ has gathered. He managed to get Hermes’ sandals, or at least one pair of them. Maybe he has a bunch in his closet, I’m not an expert on divine footwear.”
“So, he’s going to fly. That’ll be fun. I haven’t been against flying targets in a while.”
“Mirror of illusions.”
“Is that the one that throws up a dozen or more images of the person using it? So we’ll be fighting images?”
“Yes, except those images can do damage to us if we get too close. They’re not as strong as a real person, but they can break bones. Bring shadow ammo.”
“Oh, come on! That’s not playing fair.”
“You hate playing fair,” I said.
“I like playing fair when it’s in my favour.”
I had no reply for that.
“There’s a light-bending artifact too, I can’t pronounce it. The name’s like someone smacked their palm against their keyboard and called it good.”
“How is that going to screw us?”
“It looks like it can make the wielder invisible.”
Ash glared.
“Now that really is going too far.”
“You’ll have to use your hearing or magic gunslinger senses,” I said.
“I... that is not how this works. I wasn’t bitten by some radioactive gun spider.”
“So, we’ll need a lot of guns, and I need to pack as much sunlight for vitality and pixie dust as I can. I’m going to be doing a lot of spellbreaking.”
Ash peered at the laptop.
“Where’s he hiding out?”
“I have an address of a huge warehouse with the top storey acting as an apartment. It looks like he likes to stay close to his precious artifacts and cargo. There’s a chance that there’ll be stolen supernatural beings around there somewhere. We need to free them if we can.”
A quiet resolve settled over us as we began gathering everything w
e’d need. Ash loaded up with more ammo than I knew he owned. He even brought the sawn-off he’d taken from the anti-shifter people along. The gods knew when or where he’d gotten shells for it, given he didn’t have reloading equipment for it... at least, I didn’t think so. I filled my pockets with vials of magic focusing on vitality for spell-breaking, shadow and sunlight for blinding, and life magic for healing. I grabbed my last bit of lightning and squeezed it into my pocket.
“Time to go pick up Rhian.”
THIRTY-THREE
Rhian climbed into the back of Ash’s car with a warrior’s expression painted on her face. Her eyes were cold and hard, her wolf pacing just beneath her human skin. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. I really hoped she wasn’t going to get in the way. Shifters could be great warriors, but if she was running on emotion she could be reckless and make this far harder than it needed to be.
“We run this fight,” I said.
Rhian narrowed her eyes and her nostrils flared.
“I get that your packmates are suffering, but we spent our lives training for this,” I said.
“Fine,” she growled.
She was going to be trouble.
We pulled up to the warehouse to find half a dozen humans with various types of sword waiting for us. They stood like amateurs, held their weapons with a faint whiff of unfamiliarity as if they’d been handed them earlier in the day. Couldn’t be mercenaries, not that there were many human mercs in the first place. Probably they were another branch of Pen’s group, drawn into the 15th-generation pureblood identity Rafe used.
They were closer to a cheap alarm system than cannon fodder, but there was no way we were going to kill them quietly enough to make it inside unheard. Stepping out of the car, Ash dropped one magazine and replaced it with another.
“No reason to waste expensive bullets on cheap people,” he said, sadness in his tone.
The group rushed the car, which had been parked a good 50 metres away from the building, fire and fury in their eyes as they fought to make a place at the top for their race. It wasn’t a fight. He fired two rounds into the chest of each of five men, not breaking his stride as he walked towards the building. All five went down, not all dead but all with sprays of blood behind them from ugly hollow-point exit wounds. They might live, but they weren’t going to fight again today. The final fighter managed to get within a few paces of his foe, but a hollow-point round through his nose sprayed everything that mattered about him out the back of his head.
