by Morgan Wylie
“Well, too bad you won’t be getting what you want this day,” Arturo intoned and with a hand flourish sent another signal to his people. His team swarmed the team from the Lair along with the new people they brought under their protective wings. For a group who was supposed to be doing good for the world, its leader was proving to be a madman—talk about a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Talk about irony,” Mather said at the same time Enock said to Arturo, “Back atchya.” The team turned out to face the threat surrounding them, but both Mather and Enock watched the ring leader for his next move. Mather kept checking Poppy out of the corner of his eye, but she was holding steady with a glint of amusement in her eyes that he couldn’t understand. She was up to something.
“It is unfortunate that we couldn’t come to better understandings of one another.” Arturo tipped his head, back to his delusional self.
“Indeed, tragic.” Mather’s eyes began to glow as he crossed his arms across his solid wall of a chest. “Hear this: If you escape here alive tonight, know that we will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb. Never come near or harm another magic user again.” Mather stalked slowly forward. He saw a glimpse of fear in the background of Arturo’s eyes. “We will find you. That is a promise.” Mather growled letting him know he was more than human. So much more.
Arturo stood his ground, but motioned to his men. Snarls erupted from the other shifters, ready to shift but better prepared to fight in this situation as humans. Arturo’s men pressed in closer and those with swords suddenly clashed with those of Rylen’s men who carried swords.
“Fight!” Enock shouted and the cacophony of the fight erupted, drawing the team members that were waiting in the wings near the exit. To the team’s advantage, the remainder of its members surrounded the outside layer of the three-ringed semi-circle of fighting so that Arturo’s men had to watch their fronts and backs. Enock watched with a smirk as Arturo’s eyes widened seeing the additional fighters. Arturo slowly backed up near the nearest tree only a few feet away where another of his guards stood not engaging the fight. Enock and Mather both stalked him. Arturo gave a flick of his finger and the man holding Poppy with a knife to her throat slowly pushed the knife lower to a better spot on her neck drawing blood as he went. Enock’s nostrils flared at the scent and spared a quick glance toward her. Poppy inhaled deeply as one of her hands tried to hold back the arm with the knife before it went deeper into her neck and caused fatal damage. Her other hand fiddled with something that she was trying to get out of her jacket pocket.
“Poppy,” Enock whispered, which alerted Mather.
“No!” Mather swung around and threw himself at the man holding Poppy and shifted mid jump into his glorious wolf form. He hadn’t reached her before something bright exploded in front of his eyes.
He was too late.
~~~~~
Rylen and Lucius scaled the old staircase inside the brick building with the word Flour on it, the same building that the Oracle had seen Alana fall from. Rylen refused to accept that fate. They had no issues entering the building, it was too easy, which, of course, probably meant that it was a trap, but he had to try to get Alana away from this place. He felt compelled to her, drawn in by her beauty but also ensnared by her spirit and captivated by her soul. She was his soulmate.
They followed the staircase all the way to the top where it dead-ended at a landing with a metal door. On the door was an old worn sign that said “Roof Access” on it. They snuck through without sound.
On the roof, Alana cried out as Simmon—Rylen’s supposed-to-be-dead brother—twisted her arm so she would be forced down to her knees. Lucius held Rylen back so he wouldn’t storm out onto the roof before they had a chance to do their own surveillance of the situation.
“Now we wait.” Rylen heard his brother say.
“Wait for what?” Alana asked suspiciously.
“For your father, of course. He should be arriving very soon,” Simmon answered as he held her firmly, but not too rough on the ground. Alana looked over and relaxed her shoulders as she saw Rylen stepping out from behind a mechanical box near the door to the stairs. If Simmon noticed Alana’s relief, he didn’t acknowledge it. He had his back to the door, unable to see his brother.
“And what does he plan to do with her?” Rylen asked, standing ten feet behind his brother. Simmon whipped around so fast, he knocked Alana over as he let go of her, his face a sheet of white. Rylen continued, “See here’s where I’m confused: you look like you’re seeing a ghost, but in fact, it is me who is seeing the ghost.” Rylen cocked his head studying his brother’s reaction. “It should be me who is wondering what trickery it is that I am seeing my baby brother who had zero magic, who should—by all accounts—be long dead. Care to fill me in, Simmon?” Rylen appeared calm and cool, but inside he was crying out, My brother is alive! Seeing his brother reduced to working with his enemy, an enemy he could never seem to outrun even when he was in the pits of hell, tore at his insides.
“Rylen?” Simmon doubted. “You’re all grown up,” he said with awe as if he had expected Rylen to remain ten years old all this time.
Rylen chuckled, but remained where he stood and eyed Alana, checking her over quickly while he occupied his brother’s attention. “Yes, brother, that is what happens as time goes by. As are you I might mention.” Rylen studied his baby brother, noting Simmon was just as tall as he was, but lank where he should be muscular—he looked worn and used like he had aged from the inside out.
“Right.” Simmon cleared his throat and looked increasingly uncomfortable. Simmon’s looks were similar to Rylen’s, but Simmon resembled their father more with his lighter sandy brown hair and blue eyes, whereas Rylen looked more like their mother. Those blue eyes were suddenly tormented beyond comprehension and Simmon shifted his feet.
“Simmon, we have a lot to catch up on. I’ve missed you,” Rylen began as he angled away from Alana hoping to keep Simmon watching him and not Alana so she could run when given the chance. “I want you to come back with me, to where I live and meet the guys. You’d really fit in there.”
Simmon cringed. Apparently Rylen struck a sensitive chord and began to backpedal, afraid he’d lose his brother all over again. Slowing it down, Rylen took a deep breath. “You could take it slow. We could catch up as brothers, just you and me for a while. I’d make you safe and give you somewhere to stay.” Rylen watched his brother and waited for any sign that he was getting through to him.
“I… I can’t,” he spoke softly, his words laced with defeat and he looked off to the side of the building where in the dark, the city lights of Seattle could be seen. He looked back at Rylen, about to say something else when the sounds of soft whirring, a fast approaching helicopter came from the north. Simmon cringed again and turned abruptly around seeking his prize… Alana. He reached her quickly realizing she was not where he had left her, but she hadn’t moved fast enough.
“Oh no you don’t, Princess,” Simmon said with renewed purpose as he reached out to grab her arm. Then he placed his hand on her head and pushed gently. “Keep your head down.” The chopper got closer and closer, and the whirring of the giant blades got louder and more intense. Rylen covered his ears to attempt blocking some of the sound. He knew wherever Lucius was, he would be doing the same, and he hoped Luc was hiding somewhere nearby. The helicopter descended upon a large raised platform at the other end of the tall building and gracefully landed on top of a large painted “H” surrounded by a circle. Rylen watched Simmon as he pulled Alana to her feet. He was conflicted about where his eyes should land. He couldn’t stop checking to see if Simmon was really there, but he needed to know who the new threat was.
The door of the chopper slid open and out stepped three guards carrying semiautomatic weapons. Alana and Simmon both surrendered their hands to the air. Rylen simply stood, watching and waiting. He had yet to face the leader of the Fairfax Alliance and anticipated his opportunity. Behind the guards, a man Rylen had had the
privilege of encountering stepped out. The man glared the equivalent of darts tipped in poisonous hatred straight into Rylen’s face. Eli crossed his muscular arms; a sardonic sneer spreading across his face villainized his strangely hypnotic blue eyes. Next, a regal looking man dressed for a business meeting took a step down from the helicopter. The man was decked out in a three-piece suit, complete with a chain and pocket watch decorating the front. His hair and goatee took on the likeness of Colonel Sanders. He carried in one hand a formal looking black cane, and in his other hand a strange looking yellow box.
When the older man took in the scene on the roof, his gaze stopped at his daughter and cocked his head then squinted in her direction. It was odd. It was all Alana could do to not shirk in his presence, but it made Rylen proud that she didn’t give in quite so easily to the pressure of her father. Then he frowned and whipped his head toward Rylen and did the same squinting thing with his eyes. Rylen got a strange feeling as an invisible force probed into his being. With instant reaction, Rylen reinforced his mental shields, strengthening the great walled barrier and added some mental spikes to dissuade intruders from continuing forward into his mind—they would not like what they saw there. He didn’t know what this man was doing, but he knew one thing. This man who was so intent on ridding the world of magic users… was one himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Mather howled into the twilight night sky as something solid slammed into him and pushed him to the ground. Poppy! The tortured sound of an animal who just lost his mate tore through the chaotic sounds of a fight still in progress. Who was winning he couldn’t tell and at that particular moment, he didn’t care. He could let them have him for all the will he had left in him. He had never been so tied to a woman before without even knowing it. Mather’s response shocked himself as he landed on the something that had knocked him off his course. He should have killed the mother fucker that held Poppy by knifepoint. Maybe he had, but he wasn’t able to see anything when that bright light flared into his sensitive night eyes. If he hadn’t, he would. The something under him squirmed and pushed at him. Muffled shouts came from under his massive body. He growled dangerously.
“Mather! Get off of me! I can’t breathe, you big oaf,” a female voice struggled to get out. She squirmed a little more before it registered to Mather what was happening. He rolled of the woman and took in her wild and disheveled curly red hair. Poppy!! Mather jumped up to all fours and began rooting his nose around and sniffing to ensure himself she was not injured. She had a few cuts and scrapes, but nothing too damaging. He stopped at her neck where there was a slow trickle of blood and a dried track that led down to her collar bone. Mather licked her neck, attempting to clean her up.
“Stop, Mather,” Poppy laughed as his rough tongue tickled her neck. “I’m fine.” She reached up and ran her hands through the soft, thick fur of his neck and pulled his face to where she could see his. Their eyes locked, a clashing of two different shades of green, for the briefest moment, and something passed between them. “Thank you,” she whispered. “We have to get them out of here.” She stood up slowly and watched what was left of the fight they had mostly missed. Mather looked over to the guard lying on the ground where he once held Poppy at knifepoint—his dead, lifeless eyes staring vacantly at the stars above. Mather’s big wolf head cocked to the side trying to understand what happened. He quickly searched the man, not understanding how he died. Mather turned his head toward Poppy with a question in his eyes.
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s help them,” she said as she nodded at the group fighting. Enock and the team were holding their own, fighting with magic and weapons both. There were enough magic users on the team to put protective shields up around everyone else or deflect bullets fired at those they couldn’t cover. Enock stayed outside the cover of the shields and had several bullet wounds, one hole in his upper arm and two others in his lower chest and abdomen. They were going to hurt later, but he kept on fighting and dominating the two guards he was battling.
Mather looked for the greatest threat, the true leader of the Fairfax Alliance, but when he didn’t see him he took off with a low, menacing growl and jumped on the back of one of the two fighting with Enock.
“Bout time you showed up,” Enock grunted as he pummeled the other guy in the face hard enough to knock him to the ground. Enock bent over the unsuspecting, mostly-conscience guard, and holding his face, he hissed with a show of his fangs and twisted his fragile human neck with a sharp snap. The man’s body went completely limp. He turned to watch the other guard get up from the ground while Mather watched and waited, growling, daring the man to attack. The stupid man attacked, and in one swift action, Mather tore out his throat spraying blood all over his muzzle and the surrounding dirt. Both of them moved to surround the few others who had been stupid enough to stay and fight the PAC team as if they had a chance.
“Let’s finish this,” Enock shouted above the melee. As if they hadn’t been fighting at full strength or power before, they turned up the wattage on their magical energy and finished the fight with only a few swift moves. The remaining team from the Fairfax group were all on the ground, already dead, some just piles of ash—incinerated—from the magical wattage that their human bodies couldn’t take. Enock lit a fire and burned the bodies not wanting to leave anything behind. They always cleaned up their messes, but they also left their calling card. One of the guys on the team, went to a side of the closest building and held his hand an inch away from the siding. With a slow swipe and a few muttered words under his breath, he left an imprint of an image that would forever be left as a reminder of who not to mess with—a black widow spider.
“Where did Arturo go? The big scaredy-cat.” Enock searched the site for him.
“It’s my fault. When I blew my charge to get away from knife-guy, he took the distraction and disappeared into a portal.” Poppy shook her head in defeat and disbelief.
“It’s not your fault, Poppy,” Enock came to console her. “We’re just glad you’re okay and we can take everyone home.”
Mather put his nuzzle under her hand in agreement. She tried to briefly pet him on the head as he walked away behind her. He put his nose to the ground where Arturo had been standing to take in his scent and anything helpful he could pick up.
“It’s curious how he could read us all so easily and have a portal ready and waiting for him. That means he’s working with a lot more magic than we gave him credit for.” Enock shook his head and frowned in deep thought. “Sneaky bastard. Wait ‘til we tell Rylen about this.”
“Where is he? Is he ok?” Poppy asked, all at once realizing that he hadn’t come, and held herself with her arms across her chest. The high from the adrenaline rush of the evening began to come down. Chilled, she began to shake. Enock came over and put his arm around her.
“He’s fine, hopefully. He went to save Alana.” As if what he said should be explanation enough.
Poppy nodded. “She helped us escape. Told us how to get out and where to head, but I think I went the wrong direction,” her teeth were now chattering. Mather came up alongside them still in wolf form and growled a low rumbling sound in his chest.
Enock looked down at him unfazed. “What? Do you expect me to let her freeze? Let’s go, then you can take care of her.”
“I’m o-o-kay,” Poppy barely got out between her chattering teeth. “No… no one ne-eds to t-t-take care of me.”
Enock rubbed her arms up and down with his hands to try and get her warm again. He looked over everyone else to make sure they were all fine. The group that she had rescued was doing pretty well on its own. Some had even helped in the fight where they could, and if they couldn’t, they hid off to the side in the trees. One of the team members had rounded them up and was guarding them protectively as they walked back to their exit. No more disturbances or obstacles stopped them on their way back to where the portal was waiting for them. Enock texted Vi to let her know they were ready to come home.
&n
bsp; Once everyone was through the portal into the Lair, Enock gave Poppy over to Mai and Lola who were waiting with Doc and had supplies and blankets. The girls doted over her and the other survivors as Doc took stock of everyone and looked for injuries.
The door flew open, and Gracie came running in, not stopping to talk to anyone, straight to Enock. Her eyes were swirling as she watched a vision unfold that no one else could see. She was panting and sweat glistened her brow. “You have to go now or you might not make it in time. Rylen needs you.”
Without question, Enock turned to Vi who had the portal still open, per Gracie’s request, and was already redirecting the path to where she had sent Rylen and Lucius. She too was panting without the extra help from Rylen’s magic to open two portals so closely together. They weren’t going to die on her watch, though. She focused and then felt several pairs of hands on her back followed by a surge of multiple magical energy sources merging with her own, assisting in strengthening the veil to where Enock needed to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Thirty Minutes Earlier…
“So I finally get to meet the legend—the man who escaped his own execution when he was only a child, the man who couldn’t find refuge in Hell, the man who bartered for his position in the Web,” the man continued to step forward slowly, closer and closer to Rylen. Rylen didn’t move. “The man who controls the power of the NW vein of the Web, who may even control more than is known.” He stopped right in front of Rylen. He took him in from his shoes to the top of his head to prove he was not intimidated… except that he was. A faint aroma of fear wafted through the man’s pores, giving away his most protected secret—that he was afraid. The man couldn’t hide that from Rylen underneath his expensive attire, but he continued to stare at Rylen, attempting to stir a rise within him. He looked directly into the window to his soul, Rylen’s eyes.
