by H B Lyne
Eyes let out a sudden breath, not realising he had been holding it. He closed his eyes for a moment; this was not what he had wanted to get from this meeting. As if his new pack didn't have enough to do, now it would appear that there were much bigger problems than their own to face.
'Right,' he said, trying to find some assertiveness. 'Do you have any advice for me? Anything else I should be aware of?'
'Get out of the Blue Moon's shadow,' Theodore said with a wry smile. Eyes didn't quite know how to take that. 'Start fresh. It'll be tough, much harder than you realise now. But I wish you the best of luck. I mean that.' His face softened and Eyes believed him. Theodore was one of the most powerful of their kind in the city, in all respects, and Eyes respected him, even if he didn't entirely trust him.
Eyes left the building after the brief meeting feeling determined to get on top of his pack's situation. The sun was slipping lower in the sky as he set off back towards Grove Street and the air grew cold around him. It was the last day of November; winter would be upon them soon, which would bring them further challenges. He glanced up at the bright lights strung across the roads from the buildings. The “Happy Diwali” lights had recently been replaced by “Merry Christmas” ones. He felt a pang of panic at the thought of the approaching holidays and wondered how he was going to juggle pack life with family life.
As Eyes drove into St. Mark's he decided that he would need to lead the pack from the front, to put action first. He parked a few streets away from Grove Street and found a quiet alley. It was almost dark and he didn't have long before he needed to be back at the house. He slipped into the shadows and stepped across the veil into Hepethia. He knew what Fortune would have made of this highly dangerous move, but he needed to set an example and demonstrate his own strength and bravery in order to inspire the pack. His pulse was racing as he edged out of the alley and peered around the dimly lit street.
He shifted into his wolf form; his pelt was sleek and dark grey with white accents around his neck and the tip of his tail. He ran as quickly and as quietly as he could through the dark and threatening streets. Darkness and fear demons shrank away from him and he kept to the lit areas, knowing all too well what might happen if he strayed, alone, into the territories of those demons that were too strong.
As he neared Grove Street he heard movement behind him and turned to look for its source. A huge, seamless demon was speeding towards him, not dissimilar from a Chinese Dragon. It was black with yellow and orange shapes mottled on its long body. It was undulating along the street, weaving through the street lamps, keeping to their pools of light. He took a few steps back, towards the shadow and the Street Lamp Dragon swept past him. He breathed a sigh of relief and set off after it, slowly.
After no more than a few yards, the Dragon stopped and turned back to face him, it reared up and let out a fearsome roar that shook the street and ruffled Eyes' fur. It was going to strike.
Eyes shifted into his Agrius form. His bones and muscles stretched, he stood upright with thick, dark grey fur all over his body and a muzzle for a face. His teeth grew longer and sharper, the claws on his forelegs became deadly talons on strong hands, while his hind legs became strong and powerful. He was the perfect fusion of man and bear, ferocious, powerful and strong but also fast and agile. He bellowed back at the Dragon in a display of dominance, though his heart hammered in his huge chest and he had no idea if his plan would work.
The Dragon took a humbled step back, watched him for a moment and then turned and resumed its course along the street away from him. Eyes watched him go and let out a shaking sigh of relief. He got lucky this time. That wouldn't always be the case.
Eyes sprinted the short distance remaining to 32 Grove Street and ran in through the front door, stepping back across the veil and shifting back into his human form as he did so.
He appeared in the human world at the same moment as a sharp knock came at the door. He turned and whipped it open. A stunned bicycle courier stood with his hand still raised in a knocking motion.
'Erm, delivery for Martin Davison?' the courier stammered uncertainly.
'That's me,' Eyes said, trying to steady his breathing quickly.
The courier held out a padded envelope and an electronic signature device. Eyes quickly signed for the packet and gave the courier a brief smile. 'Thanks,' he said curtly and closed the door.
He ripped open the packet and pulled out the documents, they looked like they would do the trick and he breathed a sigh of relief.
The pack had appeared in doorways and from upstairs to see what the commotion was and he leaned heavily on the inside of the door.
'You all right?' Weaver asked from the kitchen doorway, a pair of rubber gloves on and a cloth in her hand. It was an odd sight and Eyes moved quickly up the hall and into the kitchen. The whole room was gleaming and Weaver looked very pleased with herself.
'Fine,' Eyes said absently, marvelling at Weaver's thorough cleaning. The kitchen had been in urgent need of this attention and he was pleased that she had taken on the task. He swept back to the front room, Wind Talker retreated back in there ahead of him and Stalker followed from the stairs. There were piles of notes scattered all over the floor and Flames's old satchel was propped up by the sofa.
'I've been researching local demons,' Wind Talker said, clearing some papers away from the sofa so that Eyes could sit down. 'Flames didn't keep very well-ordered notes. I'm still working on it.'
'No problem. Get what you can from them. I have some things to tell you all,' Eyes said, declining the offered seat. Weaver and Stalker sank onto the sofa instead and sat looking up at him. Wind Talker stood behind them, his hands on the back of the sofa, all three faces watching Eyes attentively.
'First of all, here is a last will and testament for Flames,' he said, holding out the document. 'It bequeaths this house to you.' He passed the will to Wind Talker. His pack mate took the document with a curious look and scanned it.
'It needs signing,' Wind Talker said, looking up at Eyes.
'Yes it does. As well as witnessing. This isn't going to be on the level, obviously, as he is already dead.' The last word stuck in his throat and he cleared it quickly with a small cough. He took a pen from his inside pocket and took the will back from Wind Talker. Resting on the arm of the sofa, Eyes took a deep breath and scrawled something illegible for Flames's signature and dated the document for a month previously. His hand shook slightly as he held out the paper and pen towards Weaver and Stalker. 'One of you needs to sign this.'
They looked at each other for a moment, then Weaver took them and proceeded to sign and date it. Eyes took them back and tucked everything into his suit jacket pocket. He gave a silent plea to Artemis that no one would ever come looking for it, that Flames had lived so far off radar that no human authority would notice his passing or identify his remains and come snooping.
With a cleansing breath, Eyes proceeded to report everything that Theodore had told him. Shocked gasps came from the women at the news of the King-of-Glass-and-Steel going missing, but Wind Talker didn't look entirely surprised.
'We have a lot to do,' Eyes continued without waiting for responses. 'The first order of business must be agreeing on an alpha.' He stood up to his full height and puffed out his chest. 'I believe I can fulfil the role. I believe it is what Fortune intended for me. Last time I saw him he told me to find you and look after you. I know he meant for me to lead you.'
Stalker and Weaver nodded in agreement, but Wind Talker straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, clearing his throat.
'With all due respect,' he said. 'I am the eldest here. I am the most experienced and I should take the role.'
Stalker craned her neck to look at him, but Eyes looked to Weaver for her response. She gave him a small smile and a nod of encouragement.
'Wind Talker,' Eyes took a step toward him. 'You are our only, truly capable ritualist; you will have a great many responsibilities in that role. I think it's best if y
ou remain focussed on that.'
'There is no reason I can't do both,' Wind Talker snapped. 'There are other alphas in the city who are also lead ritualists.' Anger bristled off him and left a slight buzz in the air. Eyes felt it, but was not intimidated.
'I'm sure you would be perfectly competent in both roles at once,' he said, emphasising the word “competent” and Wind Talker's lip curled in response. 'But why settle for competent? When you could excel in your role as pack ritualist.'
Wind Talker trembled slightly as he struggled with the rage. He centred himself and Eyes watched him carefully, ready for a fight if need be. Weaver cleared her throat and stood up, walking to Eyes' side.
'I second the proposal to appoint Fights-Eyes-Open as our Alpha,' she said, her quiet voice ringing with warmth and authority. It was hard not to listen to her voice and to trust it implicitly. Eyes gave her a smile in gratitude for her support and waited to see what Stalker would say. The youngest of them looked around at everyone, her face twisted into a slight frown. At last she stood, positioned between Eyes and the sofa, behind which Wind Talker still stood.
'I agree. I think Eyes would make a good Alpha.' She moved to stand with Weaver. Eyes tilted his chin up towards Wind Talker with resolve.
'I think that settles the matter,' he said, striding around the sofa towards his still visibly angry pack mate. 'I trust that you can accept to be my beta and serve the pack with your affinity for rituals and dealing with fae and demons, and your superior knowledge of shifter business.' He extended a hand and locked eyes with Wind Talker, daring him to object. He didn't, the surly shifter took the offered hand and shook it, then drew him into a brotherly embrace, much to Eyes' surprise and relief. He would easily have bested Wind Talker in combat, but he preferred to start his tenure in a more amicable fashion.
'Very well,' Eyes said, stepping back. 'Get a good night's sleep everyone. Tomorrow we find ourselves an ally.'
Chapter Five
Stalker-of-Night's-Shadow
Stalker woke early the next morning, it was still dark and she cursed the winter under her breath as she shifted from her fox form into human and looked around the little living room. Weaver, Wind Talker and herself had spent the last two nights sleeping around the little space heater. At least they had cushions now to make themselves more comfortable. Wind Talker was still asleep, a large badger stretched out in front of the sofa. But Weaver was gone and Stalker made her way into the kitchen to find food and her pack mate.
Weaver was sat at the kitchen table scribbling. Stalker knew this was a bad sign and quietly observed over her pack-sister's shoulder to see what she was drawing. Stalker frowned; it was clearly some sort of demon, but nothing she could identify. It was a vaguely human figure, but with long bony fingers and many layers of clothing that looked like they came from a bygone era. It didn't have a human face though, it had almost a bird's face with a long, pointed beak and huge eyes. It was stepping out of a hole in the ground and above it shone the gibbous moon.
Stalker got a glass of water and sat down quietly opposite Weaver.
'Are you all right?' she asked softly, breaking the silence.
Weaver looked up at her and tossed her pencil down on the table.
'I had a vision,' she sighed.
'So I gathered.' Stalker waved a hand over the sketches. 'Any idea what it means?'
'No,' Weaver scoffed. 'Artemis has a way of making these visions as cryptic as possible. I don't even know what this thing is.'
Wind Talker entered the kitchen, looking half asleep. He grunted a greeting to them and Stalker returned it with a grin.
'Morning sunshine,' she called out to him, and he flinched away from her voice, causing a small ripple of laughter between Stalker and Weaver.
'Where's Eyes?' he asked blearily.
'He went to get his car late last night and then went home to his family,' Weaver replied. 'He'll be back soon.'
Wind Talker fixed himself some coffee and then joined them at the table. He pulled one of Weaver's sketches across the table to look at it.
'Is that a plague doctor?' he asked between sips of hot black coffee.
Weaver and Stalker looked at one another and then back at him.
'What's a plague doctor?' Stalker asked, frowning.
'They were the people who tried to treat plague sufferers. You know, during the big European plague in the middle of the fourteenth century. They wore robes and masks like this.' The two women looked at him blankly, though Stalker supposed he was right, she had no reason to think otherwise. But what on earth did it have to do with anything they might face now?
'It must be,' Weaver said softly, looking over her sketches again. 'Artemis sent me a vision of this man, or demon or whatever it is. Why would she send me a vision of something from over six hundred years ago?'
Stalker had a terrible feeling in her gut.
'Oh please, please don't let there be an outbreak of plague. Please. That is the last thing we need.' She dropped her head to the table and covered it with her arms. It was all she could think it could mean.
'Is this a waxing or waning moon, Weaver?' Wind Talker asked and Stalker reluctantly raised her head.
'I have no idea. The visions aren't that specific. But if it's waning then it could be about to happen in a few days. It's a full moon now.'
Stalker moaned and dropped her head back down.
At the same time the front door opened and slammed shut.
'Hello?' Eyes called out from the hall to announce his presence.
'In the kitchen,' Wind talker called back. Eyes came into the kitchen, but Stalker didn't look up. This was all too much. She wanted to retreat into a tiny ball and never have to deal with any of this. She listened silently while Weaver told the Alpha about her vision and Wind Talker repeated what he knew about plague doctors.
'Right. And what is the matter with Stalker?' the Alpha asked. She lifted her head and tried to smile.
'I'm fine. Just, you know, overwhelmed.' She waved her hands about in front of her face, as if batting away flies.
'OK,' Eyes responded brightly, dismissing her negativity. 'Well we will have to come back to Weaver's vision later. We have a lot to do today.'
A knock at the door interrupted him. They all looked at each other, frowning. Wind Talker stood up and walked briskly to the door, the others following him and peering around him in the narrow hallway. Stalker was at the back and could only just make out that there were two people in the street outside.
'Hi,' a young, male voice greeted them. 'We're friends of Flames-First-Guardian. We've come to pay our respects.'
'By all means,' Wind Talker opened the door wider and the pack retreated back down the hall and into the tiny living room to clear the way. Stalker tried to remember Flames ever mentioning any friends but drew a blank. She waited by the fire with Weaver for the guests to make their way into the room and tried hard not to stare when she saw them.
A man and a woman entered, both dressed in many layers of mostly black clothing. The man wore huge combat boots and his wrists were covered in bangles with tiny charms on. He had chipped black nail polish on his fingernails and wore a long, leather coat. He walked with a slight stoop and smiled as he entered, though it was a sombre sort of smile, given the circumstances.
'Hi,' he spoke softly. 'I'm Scribe-of-the-Fallen. This is Last-Breath-Echoes.' He held out a hand to the woman entering the room behind him. She was quite short and painfully thin with very pale skin and small features. She had long black hair in a braid that hung over her shoulder and wore a lot of jewellery. Stalker watched her carefully as she moved and noticed her making tiny flicks with her fingers against the door frame as she passed through it, they were the smallest of movements and Stalker had to watch even more closely to be sure she wasn't imagining it.
Last-Breath-Echoes waved absently and looked around the room at everyone, a far-away look in her wide, black-rimmed eyes. Stalker just knew that these two had to be the other Scroll Ke
epers of Caerton. They had the same sort of other-worldliness about them that Flames had had and the rather pressing need to get out in the sunshine.
'Have you come across Flames-First-Guardian's records yet?' Scribe asked. 'I hate to impose, but we have a duty, you know, to make sure they're safe and to continue his work.'
'Of course,' Eyes replied. 'We have found a lot of paperwork, some of it is pertinent to our pack and our territory, you understand.'
'Of course, yes,' Scribe answered quickly. 'It's probably best if we give you some more time to get organised and go through it and you can pass it along to one of us if you find anything that you think the Scroll Keepers should have. Is that acceptable?'
Eyes glanced at Wind Talker for confirmation, which he gave with a curt nod.
'There's a hole upstairs,' Last-Breath-Echoes said dreamily, looking up as if staring through the ceiling. 'Did you know?'
'I'm sorry?' Wind Talker snapped.
'Let me show you.' The ethereal Scroll Keeper wandered away, clearly expecting someone to follow her. Wind Talker filed out after her and Eyes gave Stalker a quick look to indicate that she should follow them. She walked quickly from the room and followed Wind Talker up the stairs without a word. Last-Breath-Echoes led them up the stairs and along the corridor to the tiny staircase up into the converted attic space.
Echoes ran her hand along one of the eaves and started humming what sounded like a folk tune. Stalker watched her carefully as she walked around the edges of the small space, leaning sideways with the slope of the roof. As she approached the second corner, diagonally opposite the door, Echoes paused and felt with her hand across a section of the roof. Her hand disappeared from view and Stalker suppressed a gasp of surprise. When Echoes retracted her hand she was holding a long, shallow card-board box, the sort of thing you might package a scarf in for a gift.
