by H B Lyne
'Do we need one?' Eyes asked, a deep frown on his brow. 'It isn't strictly necessary for us to function, and not all allies grant the same abilities to those that pledge to them, so we might not get our telepathy back.'
'We don't have to have one, no,' Weaver replied. 'But we're starting from scratch here and need as much support as we can muster. It would show strength to the other packs if we had some influence in Hepethia.'
Stalker mused over Weaver's words. She didn't know much about the politics and still had a lot to learn about the spiritual aspect of their lives, but what Weaver said made sense.
'Okay,' Eyes said, his face set in an expression of steely resolve. 'I have an appointment early this afternoon, so we'll just mark our immediate territory and then sort out searching for an ally later.'
When lunch was finished, they crossed the veil and set out from the house, taking to the streets cautiously. It was a grey day and thick clouds rolled overhead, but it was mercifully dry. The street was quiet, with just small noises of movement here and there, and its houses were hunkered down and packed together. The occasional fluttering behind dark windows indicated that demons of paranoia and fear were present. As the pack neared the end of the road, Stalker heard something large moving just out of sight.
They rounded the corner slowly and silently, Stalker taking the lead. She stopped in her tracks and halted the others behind her as a huge, hulking demon lumbered up the road towards them. It was easily ten feet tall and almost as wide, and about the length of a lorry. It moved on clanking limbs and was constructed of metal and shards of glass and was stained with blood. It had no face to speak of but seemed to sense its way. Stalker could tell it was a fear demon, there was something terrifying about it, blood and death and violence all wrapped up in this relentless tank of a demon.
'Can you sense its name, Wind Talker?' Eyes whispered.
'The-Baron-of-Blooded-Shards,' Wind Talker whispered back. 'A fear demon, probably the most powerful of the fear demons around here.'
Stalker frowned, 'How do you know that?'
'It's an innate ability,' Wind Talker replied. 'Artemis blessed me with it.'
Stalker felt a stab of regret. She hadn't known about it. It made her wonder what else she didn't know about her precious, remaining pack mates.
The Baron lumbered past them, apparently unaware of them. Stalker knew that it must have sensed them though, it just thought of them as nothing more than ants and not worthy of its attention. They stood and watched it go by before setting off again, just to finish a circuit around the block. Stalker wondered how much shaping of this area the Blue Moon had done. The streets here were a part of the chaotic maze that they had generated across St. Mark's. They provided residence for many fae and demons, and confused any of the more dangerous demons that found their way across the river from unclaimed St. Catherine's. She wondered what the area had looked like in its natural state, before the Blue Moon had interfered with it.
The pack returned to the house. It wasn't much, but they had at least assessed their immediate environment and left their scents on the place so that others would know it was claimed. Stalker didn't feel reassured. Having a powerful fear demon in their territory didn't bode well.
'Can you research the fear demons of the region for me, Wind Talker?' Eyes asked once safely back in the world of humans. Wind Talker nodded and took himself upstairs to hunt through some of Flames-First-Guardian's notes. He would undoubtedly need to talk to some local fae and demons too, and Stalker guessed he would do that across the veil and in the garden.
'I'm going to tidy up the garden,' she sighed. 'I assume you don't need me for anything else, Eyes?'
'No, you go ahead. I have to go out for a bit now but I'll be back by four.'
Stalker nodded and went out into the garden and crossed the veil back into Hepethia. It was remarkably peaceful, even though there were neighbouring houses packed tight all around their little terraced house. The walls were so high that a great deal of privacy was assured, and she wondered if all the houses had such gardens, or if these walls had been built by Flames.
As she thought about it, the walls seemed to grow even taller, and her gaze snapped up to their high tops. She was startled and looked carefully, unsure whether she had imagined it or not. The walls had previously come up to the same height as the guttering, now they were a foot or so taller. She wasn't imagining it. She looked at the houses on either side, nothing but their uppermost walls and roofs were visible. Stalker imagined what it would be like if they were angled away from their garden, so that there was no chance of anyone seeing into it from the windows or rooftops. At her command, the houses bent away from her, crunching and groaning as the bricks changed shape.
'Oh my god!' she exclaimed, excitement bursting up into her chest.
Weaver came running out of the house, concern etched onto her face.
'What is it?' she urged.
'I changed the houses,' Stalker said with glee in her voice. 'Look!' She pointed at the neighbouring houses on all sides, bent over, crouched behind the high walls.
'That's incredible,' Weaver said slowly, turning on the spot to look at the changes. 'I've never been able to shape Hepethia before. It takes so much concentration to do it on purpose. Usually it just sort of happens around what shifters do.'
'Try it,' Stalker urged. 'Maybe we have a short window of opportunity to make immediate changes to our territory?'
Weaver gave her an appraising nod and went to the wall furthest from the house. She reached up and touched the red bricks. Very slowly a sort of ladder started to form. Bricks rumbled and scraped against one another with some of them moving to protrude out of the flat wall. Stalker grinned, elated at the look of surprise and wonder on Weaver's face. Weaver grasped one of the bricks and climbed swiftly up the wall. She pulled herself up onto the top of the wall and stood up. Stalker followed, nimbly dancing her way up the wall. Weaver grasped her hand as she looked out over the landscape.
Stalker followed her gaze. Inside the neighbouring gardens, the places that had long been out of sight of the garden of 32 Grove Street, was the strangest sight. Instead of grass or paving, or anything Stalker had ever seen anywhere on earth, there were beautiful rocks of green, blue and white. Some areas were flat, but the rocks jutted up out of the ground, like stalagmites. 'What are we looking at?' Stalker gasped.
'Crystals,' Weaver replied in a whisper. 'Hepethia's natural form.'
'It's beautiful.' Stalker was captivated; she felt she could look at the crystals all day. 'So that's what Hepethia looks like before shifters go bending it to their will?'
'Yes,' Weaver said, her voice still sounding distant.
Stalker looked back down into their own garden. Weeds swamped the place, they climbed the walls and grew over a foot tall between paving slabs. She focused her attention on them and willed them to recede into the ground. They obeyed her, shrinking away to a much more manageable level. With a grin back at the captivated Weaver, Stalker jumped down from the wall, and after the first few feet of freefall she drifted gracefully to the ground.
Weaver clambered down the rough ladder she had created and grabbed Stalker's shoulders.
'How did you do that?'
'This,' Stalker replied, lifting her clay pendant out from inside her top. 'Shadow gave it to me.' A sudden lump rose in her throat and her fingers trembled slightly as she hurriedly tucked it back into her t-shirt. Weaver gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. 'It doesn't feel real yet. I keep forgetting that he's gone, that they're all gone.'
'I know,' Weaver said sadly. 'Same here. I keep expecting Flames to come marching in barking “What are you lot doing in my house?”'
Stalker let a small laugh bubble up in her throat. She could just picture it. The laugh died on her lips and the sadness resumed.
'My necklace has a trick, too,' Weaver said, a conspiratorial grin on her lips. She looked into Stalker's eyes and slowly her pupils shrank, the shape of her eyes shifted and th
e irises turned bright green. Her eyes alone had shifted into those of a cat, Weaver's Artemis-given form.
'Woah,' Stalker gasped.
'I can change bits of myself, not only my whole body,' Weaver said, grinning. 'Any part I choose, into the equivalent cat's feature.'
'That's so cool,' Stalker grinned at her.
'Come on,' Weaver said softly. 'Let's go back across.' She took Stalker's hand and they crossed the veil together.
Stalker sighed when she saw the garden in the state she had left it earlier, with piles of dug up weeds all over the paving. She got down to work with Weaver, stuffing the pulled up weeds into bin bags and giving the paved area a sweep.
As they worked, Stalker felt something watching her and she carefully looked around, not wanting to startle anything that may be lurking. It was early afternoon and the sun was trying to break through the thick clouds above, there were no real shadows to speak of in the garden. Yet there by the door, a dark shadow shimmered slightly in the corner between the door and the garden wall. She looked at it carefully, but felt a hint of disappointment when she realised that it was not Pursuit-of-Midnight-Solitude, her Path of Night patron, the one who had led her to her true name and was her guardian in dark places. This was a minor shadow demon, but she had an affinity with the whole family of shadow and darkness demons and she brushed the dirt off her hands and gave it her full attention.
Weaver stopped working and watched Stalker as she stepped towards the door.
'Yes? Can I help you?' she asked in a quiet, calm voice.
'Blue Moon,' the shadow whispered. Stalker felt a lump rise in her throat.
'They're gone,' she choked back the tears.
'Now! Blue Moon!' the demon hissed and then vanished.
Stalker ran to the door but the demon was gone.
'What does that mean?' she called out, but no reply came.
'What did it say?' Weaver asked calmly. She crossed the small garden in a second and placed warm hands on Stalker's shoulders as they locked their eyes on one another. Stalker instantly felt calmer and slowly recounted the demon's brief words.
A deep frown creased Weaver's brow.
'What date is it?' she asked. Stalker had to think for a minute, she had lost track.
'The thirtieth of November. Why?'
Weaver let go of Stalker's shoulders, sighed and rubbed a hand across her head.
'I had forgotten,' she said with a slight break in her voice. 'We were going to have a meal to celebrate the start of the full moon last night. It isn't just any full moon today.'
'What do you mean?' Stalker felt heavy with grief.
'There are normally three full moons in each season, but sometimes there are four and when that's the case, the third is called a blue moon. That's what today is. The third of four full moons of autumn.'
Stalker let her head hang heavily. Tears began to fall and she wiped them away quickly with her muddy hands.
'I can't believe this is happening.' Stalker struggled to speak between sobs. 'I can't believe they're all gone. Shadow's Step, he was like a brother to me. He's gone and now we're all alone and who will help us?' Panic was rising in her chest and she looked imploringly at Weaver, who always seemed so cool and level-headed. For a moment Weaver looked just as scared and sad as Stalker felt, but her expression quickly changed to one of firm resolve.
'We are going to be fine,' she said. 'We have to be fine. One thing at a time. Right now we have to put things in order, claim our territory, find allies and arrange income and cover for the pack. If we focus on the practicalities it will help get us through these early days.'
Stalker felt calm begin to replace panic and she took a few deep breaths.
'You're right. We'll manage.'
'We will. A good next step for you, my lovely sister, would be to wash your face.' Weaver gave her a cheeky smile and Stalker looked quickly at her reflection in the kitchen window and saw the smears of dirt across her cheeks from where she had wiped her tears with her grubby hands. She broke into a small laugh. One thing at a time, she told herself, one thing at a time.
Chapter Four
Fights-Eyes-Open
Eyes drove into the centre of Caerton and parked in the car park underneath the court buildings. He made his way quickly through the streets of tall glass towers to Free River Tower, the huge building that housed Harris Intermediaries and stood sentinel at the heart of Burnside, the financial and business centre of the city. Free River Tower was the tallest structure in Caerton, an impressive skyscraper of gleaming glass and shining steel. It was an oval shape, with the top sloping away to a curved, narrow peak.
Eyes straightened his tie as he stepped into the revolving front door. He strode across the polished marble floor to the vast reception desk and glanced at the large, brass plaque on the wall behind it, which listed the businesses in the building and on which floor to find them. It came as no surprise to find Harris Intermediaries listed at the top of the building, the top five floors. Theodore's office had to be on the top floor, Eyes knew in his gut.
Eyes smiled awkwardly at the security guard at the desk as he signed in and the guard issued him with a guest pass. He went to the lifts to the right of the lobby and dashed into one that was about to close. The lift was empty and he took a steadying breath as he hit the button numbered 50. The lift began to move steadily up the vast tower block and Eyes waited, his mind churning with how much to tell Theodore and how much to keep to himself. He wanted to appear strong and capable, but at the same time, he was here at least in part for help. It was going to be a difficult balance to strike.
After a minute or so, the lift arrived at the top floor and Eyes stepped out into a bright corridor opposite large double doors in a glass wall. The glass was tinted to a deep shade of blue so Eyes could see nothing on the other side. To his right the corridor stretched away, with glass doors at regular intervals, and to his left was an open reception area with crystal clear, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. He walked towards the desk, there was no sign of anyone here and he looked around for signs of life.
Voices came from behind him and the huge double doors opposite the lift opened wide. Out stepped a young woman, who looked incredibly tense and after her came the man himself, Theodore Harris. He was a tall and very well-built man with short hair and rimless glasses on his broad nose; he looked rather like a large gorilla stuffed into a very nice suit. The effect was striking. Eyes stepped towards him to greet him and Theodore approached with a hand extended, which Eyes took and shook firmly.
'Martin. Good to see you,' Theodore greeted him warmly and led him into his office. The assistant glanced at Eyes and then hurried past him to her desk. Eyes could feel the power oozing off Theodore, making him immediately subservient to the older shifter. He knew that humans must find him ten times as intimidating.
As soon as the office doors closed Theodore's demeanour changed. He turned to look at Eyes, his face hard and wary. Eyes cleared his throat and straightened his back and shoulders, rising to his full height, though he still stood a good few inches shorter than the impressive Alpha before him.
'Thank you for seeing me,' Eyes managed to say, with no betrayal from his voice.
'I was surprised to get your call,' Theodore stated as he strode across his office. It was huge, with one wall entirely glass, looking out across the entire city from the top floor of the tower. A vast desk stood in the middle of the room, with a big comfortable chair behind it, which he slid into, indicating a much more modest chair opposite for Eyes.
'I thought that might be the case.' Eyes took the offered seat and tried not to allow himself to feel small. He looked around the office with a stab of envy.
'I heard that the Blue Moon had all been killed.'
'Not quite.' Eyes swallowed hard and tried not to let Theodore's bluntness rattle him too much. 'Four of us survived. That's why I'm here. To let you know that there is still a pack in St. Mark's. I'd appreciate it if you made it known in yo
ur dealings with... others.' He knew Theodore would understand that he meant all supernaturals. Theodore nodded and pressed his fingers together in front of his face.
'That's not the entire reason you're here. You could have told me as much over the phone.' He was staring Eyes down, challenging him to admit his need for help. Eyes took a deep breath.
'We encountered a powerful fear demon on our territory.' He was sure to emphasise the last two words. 'The-Baron-of-Blooded-Shards. Do you know of him?'
'Yes,' Theodore replied. 'He's a demon of fear caused by violence. No doubt he was drawn to St. Mark's after last night.'
Eyes nodded, that much made sense. 'Caerton is plagued by fear demons. It seems most areas have a problem with them. It didn't used to be a problem, but things are changing.' Theodore spoke openly and Eyes began to relax.
'Why do you think that is?' Eyes asked, his curiosity roused. There was something in Theodore's eyes, a glint of some big secret and Eyes felt it was coming to him whether he was ready to hear it or not.
'Your predecessors knew, but I expect they didn't burden the youngsters with this information,' he paused, watching Eyes carefully for a moment. Eyes leaned forward, shaking off the use of the word “youngsters”, focussing on what Theodore had to tell him. 'The city's patron, The-King-of-Glass-and-Steel, is missing.'
Eyes snorted, but immediately regretted it. Theodore was entirely serious.
'How can the city's own essence be missing?' he asked, completely taken aback.
'I don't know. It's possible that he became too powerful and has moved on. But there would normally be signs of that before it happened. All of the packs are aware of this, so it is only fair for me to inform you of it. The rise in prevalence of fear demons is indicative of a general problem in the city, there is no one commanding the demon and fae families and they are likely to drift out of balance. Fear is the first one to do so. I believe that the Baron is not the only one of his kind in Caerton.'
