by H B Lyne
She stepped under the light and out into the club. It was a vast, open space with one massive dance floor, a raised booth for the DJ at one end and a long bar at the other. The Berserkers were gradually filing into the club and First Strike was ushering people into a circle. He caught sight of her and gave a friendly smile and wink. She waved back and moved over to join the circle. Glancing around, she caught sight of Crimson, the stunning red-head, and Stalker moved to take a place next to her.
'Stalker,' Crimson greeted her with an elegant dip of her head. 'I heard about the Blue Moon. I am so very sorry for your loss.'
'Thank you,' Stalker said, trying to smile. She realised she was going to face a lot of this and tried to accept the courteous words without letting her feelings overwhelm her.
First Strike came over and drew her into a warm embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek into his hard chest.
'Are you all right?' he asked, releasing her.
'Yes, I'm okay, thanks, pulling through. The funeral was last night.'
'I know,' he said with a sigh. 'Scribe informed a few of us so that we could hold our own observances if we wished. Shadow's Step was my brother too, a dear friend who I had known for more years than I care to count. I raised a howl for him in Hepethia at the appointed time.'
'Thank you,' Stalker said. She had been so wrapped up in her own grief that she had almost forgotten that her pack mates had other friends who would miss them as much as she would.
Ragged Edge strode over to them, leaning heavily on his staff. He wasn't in his ritual robes tonight, he wore a battered, brown leather coat that fell almost to the floor and his long grey hair hung across his wide shoulders. A marginally younger-looking shifter accompanied him. He was tall and broad, like so many of their kind. He wore his long hair in a heavy braid and his long beard was intricately braided and beaded. His eyes were electric blue.
'Stalker,' Ragged Edge said in his gravelly voice. 'I am so glad to see you. I wasn't certain that you would come, what with Shadow...' He looked to the floor and his voice disappeared into an indistinct mumble.
'Of course,' she said firmly. 'I didn't just join Odin's Warriors because of my mentor. I am as much a Berserker now without him here as I was before.'
'Of course,' the elder said with a small smile. 'Forgive me, this is Mjolnir.' Ragged Edge indicated his companion.
Mjolnir held out his arm and she took it, they grasped each other's arms just below the elbow, as was customary among their group.
'Pleased to meet you. Your initiation was something of an event.' His voice was deep and warm and there was a distinct twinkle in his blue eyes. Stalker laughed, remembering her vicious fight with Fury that had ended in them being dragged apart.
'Yes, I suppose it was.'
'Stalker,' Ragged Edge interrupted with a firm, but quiet voice. He took her elbow and led her a short way from the others. 'Tonight, well you will soon see, but I wanted to let you know personally that we do not take this action lightly and I hope that you will understand the gravity of the situation.'
Stalker felt an uncomfortable lump in her throat. She didn't understand what he was talking about but was suddenly afraid that she was going to be asked to leave or told that there had been some terrible misunderstanding about her membership. He didn't give her a chance to say anything, however, as he gave her a brief, sympathetic smile and pat on the shoulder before striding back to the circle. She followed him and took her place between Crimson and Mjolnir as the rest of the Berserkers fell into a circle around their leader, Red Scythe, who stood with the huge weapon that was his namesake at his side. He struck the concrete floor with the wooden end of the scythe and the crowd fell silent.
'Thank you all for coming,' he called out. 'As I am sure all of you know, the shifters of Caerton suffered a very serious loss last week.'
Stalker felt eyes all around the circle flick over to her, it was immensely uncomfortable. 'The Blue Moon, one of our city's oldest packs, was almost entirely obliterated.' The leader went on. Stalker felt irritated. Half of them had survived, they may be young, but they still counted. She fought down her chagrin and listened attentively. 'A force of Furies crossed into our city and took out the Blue Moon in one strike. One of our very own, Shadow's Step, was taken down with three of his very experienced pack mates. This was an act of war. As Odin's Warriors it is our duty to see such aggression countered.'
Stalker felt energy soar through her at his words, all around the circle people were twitching. A few people murmured noises of assent.
'Hell yeah!' Someone shouted and Stalker looked around to see who it was, several people laughed and a young man a few places to her left was being shoved jovially.
'We are not going to sit and wait for more Furies to raid our city!' Red Scythe shouted.
'Yeah!' The shout rang out around the circle from at least half a dozen Berserkers. Stalker felt fired up. This was exactly what she wanted to hear. The rage that her fellow shifters felt about her pack's destruction was touching, in a way. 'You are each charged with seeking out and killing at least one Fury, with or without your pack's cooperation. Your duty is to Odin. The Phoenix Guard of the Furies shed first blood and now they must pay. We will not allow Caerton to be taken by those who seek to expose our kind to humanity! They want a war, we will give them a war. Let them feel the might of Odin's Warriors!'
Everyone was getting fired up now, even the crystal cool Crimson beside Stalker was pumping her fists and snarling. The energy in the club was coming to a peak. Shouts rang out around the room and almost everyone looked about ready to burst into their Agrius forms.
Stalker's heart was pounding and she felt the frenzy building around her. It was intense and empowering. First Strike erupted and shifted form, quickly followed by the youngster who had first shouted out.
It was like dominoes, quickly each and every Berserker in the club shifted and fights broke out all around the room. Not serious combat, it was camaraderie and adrenaline that resulted in some shoving and a few punches being exchanged. Stalker was swept along in the moment and her body changed with no conscious effort on her part. She looked around for something to hit. Fury was heading directly towards her, shoving other shifters out of her way. Her long braids rippled behind her like whips. Stalker snarled and ran towards her, her feet pounding on the concrete floor. She drew her fist back and swung it towards Fury's face, but Fury easily dodged the brazen attack and slipped around behind Stalker.
The two of them circled each other for a moment, but Stalker was not in the mood to fight intelligently, she had no patience with this thirst for combat clawing at her throat. She launched herself at Fury and pushed her to the floor. Stalker punched Fury hard in the face several times before the prone shifter gathered the strength to shove her away. Fury started to get up, blood pouring down her jaw, but instead of attacking Stalker she shifted down into her human form. Stalker was surprised and stopped in her tracks, watching carefully for Fury's next move.
'Stupid bitch,' Fury spat. 'I have a message for you; information.'
Stalker shifted form and moved closer so that she could hear Fury over the noise all around them.
'I thought you were going to attack me,' she said, almost apologetically.
'Maybe I was,' Fury smirked. 'But that's beside the point. A Witch has been crossing your territory a lot recently. We thought you lot probably hadn't noticed, what with being a bit pre-occupied.'
Stalker snarled at her. She was appalled at Fury for approaching her just to make such obviously derogatory remarks.
'Right,' Stalker hissed. 'Where do you get your name from, anyway? Bit of an odd choice.' She cocked an eyebrow, challenging her rival to explain herself.
'It's Furious Vengeance, if you must know, and as you well know we don't choose our own names, they are within us already, waiting to be found. Do you think I like having a name associated with those fanatics?'
Stalker flinched, embarrassed and regretful at he
r hostility towards Fury.
'You need to control your territory if you want to claim to be a pack. Do something about it.' Fury snapped.
'We will!' Stalker yelled. 'Now that we know about it. Thank you.' Stalker put on a mocking voice. The two of them stared at each other as the chaos began to subside around them and people began shifting back and laughter replaced roars. 'Look,' Stalker said in a more calm and rational voice. 'Is there anything else that you can tell me that might be helpful here?' It was an honest appeal for cooperation and Fury looked momentarily surprised.
'I don't know,' she said, looking uncomfortable. 'I guess, well, the Witches seem to be connected to this property in Fenwick, a sort of new age shop. The Witch that's been passing through our territories has been tracked back to it by one of ours.'
'Okay, and where is she going?'
'I don't know, we haven't followed her across your territory.' Fury snapped and stalked away.
'Everything all right?' Fire Talon approached Stalker cautiously and she looked at him carefully for a moment. He had blood on his hands and face. She looked down at her own hands, her knuckles were bloody but any minor grazes that she may have received from pummelling Fury's face had already healed .
'Yeah, I think so. Thanks for asking.' She smiled at him and he gave her a gentle punch on the shoulder.
'So, war,' he said, almost wistfully.
'Yeah,' she replied. She tried to smile, but couldn't. The initial fire from Red Scythe's speech had worn off and now she felt a strange coldness seeping through her.
'Try not to think of it as being for you,' he said. His words caught Stalker off guard. She hadn't thought anything like that, but now she did.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, they like you, the elders, but the war isn't for you. You know?'
'Yeah, I never thought it was.' She frowned at him.
'Oh, well that's okay then. Sorry.' He looked sheepish and walked quickly away.
Stalker watched from the sidelines as people talked animatedly and exchanged information. All of Odin's Warriors were going to war over the destruction of her pack. Despite what Fire Talon had said, or perhaps because of it, she felt strangely flattered and unnerved by it. She felt almost responsible. She had vowed at the funeral to take the fight to the Furies, and again tonight. On some level it truly was what she wanted, she wanted revenge, she wanted the Witches and all of their allies to pay for what they had done. But the blood pounding in her ears was not just a battle drum, it was a warning siren.
Chapter Sixteen
Stalker didn't sleep well that night. The events of the gathering buzzed through her mind, her heart raced and she kept breaking into a sweat. She was the last to rise the next day. Weaver and Wind Talker were in the kitchen talking animatedly and Eyes was sitting on the sofa with piles of paperwork stacked around him.
'Morning,' Eyes said quietly as Stalker shifted from her fox form into her human one.
'What are you doing here?' she asked, not intending to sound so hostile.
'I'm working on a case here today, I wanted to be around to talk to everyone, catch up.'
'Sure,' Stalker nodded. 'Good to have you here. It's hard, juggling work with all of this. Isn't it?'
'You could say that,' he looked up from his work and gave her a melancholy smile. 'How was your night?'
'Interesting,' she said, cocking an eyebrow. 'We'd best get the others in here for this conversation.'
'Sure,' Eyes said, then placed his thumb and finger under his tongue and whistled loudly, and Weaver and Wind Talker came through from the kitchen, looking curious. 'Pack meeting, please folks.'
Everyone took a seat and Eyes held his hand up to Stalker, giving her the floor.
'So, Odin's Warriors have declared war on the Furies.'
'Oh my goddess,' Weaver said, clapping a hand to her mouth.
'Yeah, so we have all sworn to take the fight to them. I didn't think any of you would object.' Stalker looked around and saw nothing but support in her pack mates' faces. 'Also, I saw Fury, from the Wrecking Crew. She told me that one of the Witches has been crossing our territory.'
'What?' Eyes snapped.
'She's been coming through Runmead and down into St. Mark's. The Wrecking Crew haven't tracked her into our territory. That's something at least, what with the history between us.'
'How did we miss this?' Eyes asked.
'We've been busy and this is a big territory,' Wind talker said solemnly.
'We should see if we can track her, see where she's going and what she's doing.' Eyes gave Stalker a hard look. She knew that tracking was her forte and that the Alpha expected her to be able to do this.
'Of course,' she said. 'I have to work this afternoon but we can try and pick up her scent later.'
'Fine,' Eyes said with a sharp nod.
Stalker looked at Weaver and they exchanged concerned expressions. Stalker felt angry at the intrusion on their territory and overwhelmed at the task ahead. Searching for the intruder would be difficult, she didn't know where to start.
'In other news,' Weaver said, clearing her throat. 'We've been researching the Plague Doctor. We don't have much, but we think that it stole a body from the plague pit, possibly to draw energy from, but it may have been looking for something to tether itself to.'
'Demons can be vastly more powerful in Hepethia and the human realm if they have something physical to connect to,' Wind Talker explained. 'They are from Muspelheim, or Hell, or whatever you want to call it. Different religions call it different things, but it's the realm of fire and demons. It costs them a lot of power to travel into one of the other realms and they are usually sort of diluted when they get here. The demons we faced at the betting shop site were able to crawl here through the hole in the veil; they were pure. But crossing the veil takes a toll and most of the demons we have faced have been in a weakened state.'
Stalker thought about the things she had seen and fought; and she shuddered. Some of them had seemed very powerful to her. She dreaded to think what they would be like in their most powerful forms.
'When they are here for a purpose, rather than just having been drawn here by strong emotions or big events, they need strength and energy to remain here,' Weaver said. 'It helps them to tether themselves to something.'
'Like a corpse,' Stalker added. It was a grim concept.
'Exactly,' Wind Talker replied.
'How did it get here?' Stalker asked. 'I mean, there hasn't been an outbreak of plague to draw it here.'
'No,' Wind Talker said, shifting his weight uncomfortably. 'No, indeed, that is the most disturbing part. It is very likely that he was summoned here by someone.'
Stalker felt something cold and sickly spread over her skin. She glanced at Weaver, who looked gravely worried and then at Eyes, who wore a deep frown.
'That really doesn't bear thinking about,' Eyes said quietly.
'Could it be the Spiral Hand?' Stalker asked.
'I hope so,' Wind Talker replied. Stalker looked at him in alarm. 'Well if it wasn't, it means some other unknown agency is at work.'
'Very true,' Eyes said, rising from the sofa. 'Okay, well, let's stay vigilant. Tonight we sort out that Witch.'
Stalker could see in his pained expression that he was feeling as overwhelmed as she was and she put a gentle hand on his arm. He looked at her and met her eyes. Stalker wanted to tell him that everything would be all right, but she barely believed that herself.
Chapter Seventeen
The Lightning Lords went their separate ways for the afternoon, Eyes went into chambers and Stalker went to work. It was starting to get easier, just a little, as she began to get used to how much of her strength it was safe to use with her students.
She finished work at 6pm and decided to head straight for the eastern border of their old territory, rather than going all the way west to Grove Street. She approached Fenwick with caution, unsure of what she would find there. On her way she sent Eyes a text message to
tell him what she was doing. The reply came quickly.
Be careful. We'll meet you at Redfield Park x
Stalker tucked her phone away and slipped up a dark alley to shift form. She slunk back out as a fox and jogged to the border. There was still just the faintest trace of her deceased pack mates where they had marked the boundary quite thoroughly. It would soon fade completely. She decided to mark it herself and did so at regular intervals all the way north towards Redfield Park. There was no way that they could control all of their old territory yet, but she wanted to send the Witches a message. They had to know by now that their fellow Furies had failed to eliminate all of the Blue Moon, so it should come as no surprise to them to find this border marked.
When she reached the park she went more carefully. The Wrecking Crew's stench was all over this border from where they had snatched the park for their own. Stalker tried to get past that smell to pick up a foreign scent. She had been searching for quite some time when she sensed her pack mates approaching. Weaver was in her cat form, the others human. Stalker acknowledged them with a nod of her head and continued searching for the Witch's scent. The Wrecking Crew's markings were too strong and so she decided to move further into her own pack's territory, away from the stench of their neighbours. The others followed and Weaver helped.
After what seemed like hours, Stalker picked something up a few blocks south of the park. It was a female shifter, vaguely familiar but only as part of the mix of Witch scents that she had picked up before. Weaver trotted over to where Stalker was sniffing carefully and the pair of them tried to follow the trail.
Eyes and Wind Talker followed a few metres behind as they weaved their way through narrow back streets across St. Mark's and towards the river. The Witch had been keeping to the quiet, dark places and was apparently taking some care to avoid the areas that most strongly smelled of the Lightning Lords. They followed the scent down streets that Stalker had never gone down before.
As they approached the river, the trail led out onto one of the major roads through the city. Traffic roared past them and bright lights assaulted Stalker's fox senses. She flinched against the stimulation and put her nose to the ground to focus on the scent. It led to a bridge across the river, not Red Bridge, a smaller one further north and she led her pack mates across it. Weaver stayed hidden in the shadows as best she could and the others kept a safe distance behind so as not to draw too much attention to the odd group.
