by H B Lyne
'Yes, we need you in Hepethia now.'
They left the human boy there and crossed the veil. Out in the back garden, Wind Talker stood with his arms raised. Light shone all around him and little sparks filled the garden around the dark, spindly figure of Scourging Agony hovering in the centre of a cage of light. His bladed fingers twitched and clicked, the hand that Stalker had sliced off had already been neatly regrown. His face was a grotesque mask of pain.
Wind Talker was straining to contain the demon within the mystical cage, he was sweating and his face was beetroot red.
Above them, Unchained Lightning circled, casting an eerie white glow over the scene.
'Did you question it yet?' Stalker asked Weaver quietly, afraid of breaking Wind Talker's concentration.
'No, we've only had it held for a few minutes.'
'Scourging Agony, did you report back to your mistress yet?' Stalker called out. The demon's attention fixed on her, his black eyes piercing right through the cage and into her.
'No,' it hissed. Its voice was sharp, like splinters.
'Good. What can we do to convince you not to?' James asked, stepping forward. Suddenly, there in the light of their ally's power, James began to radiate with the calming aura that Stalker had always felt from Speaks-With-Stone, her half-moon pack mate from the Blue Moon. He was calm but authoritative, and the demon responded immediately by relaxing and releasing a long rattling breath.
'I wasn't expecting that,' the demon said, locking eyes with James. 'I thought you were going to kill me.'
'Not if we don't have to,' James said, straightening his tie and tilting his chin up defiantly. 'Ultimately, we do not want the Witches to know that we are in any way connected to what happened to that girl. We will prevent you from returning to them if we have to, but it would be better for all concerned if you could be persuaded to tell us everything you know about them.'
Stalker and Weaver exchanged discrete appraising expressions as James spoke. He had only been with them a matter of hours but he was already stepping up and taking his place among them admirably.
'Pain,' Wind Talker said. It wasn't immediately clear whether he meant that he was in pain or something else. He was buckling and Stalker ran to him to support him. She leaned against his back, propping him up, and squeezed his shoulders. She focused her energy on the cage, drew deep breaths and drew upon what little casting ability that she had. It seemed to help and Wind Talker was able to relax enough to speak. 'You're a demon of pain, aren't you?'
'I am,' the demon said silkily, turning to Wind Talker.
'We can offer you opportunities to inflict pain.'
Stalker's eyes closed and she let out a barely audible sigh of exasperation. But she didn't speak, they had to appear united in front of this demon if they hoped to settle this without further bloodshed.
'Oh no,' the demon said, smiling eerily. 'I don't inflict it, I enjoy watching others inflict it upon themselves.'
Stalker shuddered, repulsed by the creature.
'Do the Witches do that? Do they hurt themselves for you?' James asked, his voice quiet and thoughtful.
The demon drew a rattling breath and its sigh was disturbingly sensual. Stalker flinched away from it, hiding behind Wind Talker.
'Oh yes,' the demon smiled and looked right at Stalker over her pack mate's shoulder, as if it could sense her discomfort and took pleasure in it.
Weaver walked quietly over to Wind Talker and drew his knife from his belt. She walked right up to the shimmering cage, held out her arm and drove the knife hard into the flesh just below the elbow. She winced, and as she pulled the knife down her arm towards her wrist she whimpered in pain. Blood ran down her arm, all over the knife and dripped onto the floor.
Scourging Agony's black tongue darted out and he twitched all over, his eyes flickered and almost seemed to roll back in his head a little. It was perverse and Stalker watched with utter revulsion coursing through her.
'We could find you a place,' James said, cutting through the sick tension. 'Somewhere where people go to hurt themselves. You could live there and feed off the pain there. We could promise to ensure that no human authorities interfere and cut off your source of energy.'
Scourging Agony considered James carefully, his fingers flexing slightly and clicking against each other.
'What do you want from me? Besides not returning to my mistress?'
'Information about them,' James replied.
The demon drew a breath and straightened up. He waved his hands and the cage disintegrated from around him. Stalker and the others immediately went on the defensive. Wind Talker looked confused and frustrated.
'Calm down, fleshlings,' the demon croaked, and a half-forgotten memory stirred in Stalker's mind. The memory of her initiation entombing and the demon in the dark, whispering to her. 'It was a good prison, it held me while it needed to. I'm not going to hurt you. I like you and will do what I can to help. Provided you fulfil your side of the bargain.'
'Of course,' James said, relaxing. 'Tell us about the leader.'
'Jessica Carter,' the demon said, sitting itself down, cross-legged. 'She is ruthless and ambitious.'
'Tell us about her connection to the girl who was killed,' Wind Talker said, his eyes ever sharp.
'Mother and daughter,' Scourging Agony said with a sinister smile. 'Well done.'
Stalker twitched. She wanted to jump forward and punch the demon right between the eyes. 'The girl has a twin,' Scourging Agony continued. 'A human.'
Weaver was nursing her cut arm but she looked up sharply at this and locked eyes with Stalker. There was something in Weaver's eyes that made Stalker extremely uneasy, it was something so dark, almost vicious.
'Did you know?' Stalker mouthed. Weaver shook her head and returned her attention to her wound. Weaver had spent two days held captive by the Witches while they tried to convert her, they had begun to treat her like family. Clearly they hadn't revealed everything.
'But it's the rite mistress you should be mindful of,' the demon said, his voice dripping. He leaned forward, seeming to stretch across the little garden towards the gathered shifters. 'Spinner-of-Crystal.' The words dripped from his black mouth like little diamonds.
Wind Talker stepped carefully towards Scourging Agony.
'Is she special?'
'No,' the demon replied. 'She's another puny fleshling. But she's good, quick and clever. She's been casting circles since before you were born, boy.'
Wind Talker laughed and turned away. The demon stopped him in his tracks with a click of his fingers. 'You don't truly understand it yet. You were surprised when I broke free of your pretty cage. Magic is just symbolism, that's all it is. The moment I decided to ally with you the cage was no longer necessary and so it ceased to function. Once you fully comprehend that fact you will stand a chance of becoming half the ritualist she is.'
Wind Talker's face twitched, caught between anger and appreciation. His eyes narrowed and he turned slowly to face Scourging Agony.
'I will be twice the ritualist she is.'
'We'll see,' the demon said, smiling.
'Thank you,' James said quickly, stepping forwards and placing a steadying hand on the shoulder of his seething brother. 'I have an idea for a place for you. Let me discuss it with my pack and we will speak to you again in due course. What reassurance do we have from you that you will not betray us?'
'The way I betrayed them just now, you mean?' Scourging Agony spat. 'You just have to trust me.'
The demon winked at James and disappeared.
'Oh well that's just great,' Stalker said with an exasperated sigh. Trusting a creature like that ranked on a par with beating up gangsters.
'What's your idea, James?' Weaver asked, a slight crack in her voice that only Stalker seemed to notice.
'I know of a tattoo and piercing parlour not far from here,' James replied. 'They do these extreme piercings and this scarification stuff. That demon was getting a high off self-inflicted pain,
so I figured he'd enjoy the vibe in a place like that. Plus, it's perfectly legal.' He smiled and caught Stalker's eye. She returned his smile.
'That sounds promising,' Weaver said quietly.
'What's it called?' Stalker asked.
'Red Drop of Ink.'
Chapter Twenty-One
Fights-Eyes-Open
The phone in his lap lit up with an incoming call from Wind Talker. The third in fifteen minutes. He couldn't answer, and felt frustration mounting. The interview he was sitting in on was taking far longer than anticipated and he felt like he had nothing to contribute. His familiarity with the case was scarce and his mind was firmly fixed elsewhere. He watched his phone until the screen went black again.
Finally his colleague drew the interview to a close and Eyes excused himself swiftly. He gathered his files and snatched up his phone, hitting redial as he dashed out into the lobby of his chambers. The phone only rang once before Wind Talker answered.
'Hi,' Eyes said quickly. 'Sorry, I was tied up in a meeting. What's the problem?'
'I think we have it under control, but we need you to get back here now if possible. We have the boy here and need a plan.'
Eyes looked around the lobby. It was bustling with people coming and going. Sharp suits and briefcases, clicking shoes on the marble floor and the noise of the street outside each time the door opened.
'Okay, sure. I'm finished here for the day. I'll be back in twenty minutes.' Eyes hung up and walked briskly to the parking garage. It was quiet, and in the stillness Eyes felt as if he was being watched. He stopped by his car and put his briefcase down on the floor. There was a prickle down his spine and he sensed movement nearby.
Theodore Harris appeared from behind a pillar and Eyes breathed a sigh of relief.
'Mr. Davison,' Theodore said smoothly. He walked slowly towards Eyes, a small smile playing on his lips, his hands tucked into the pockets of his crisply pressed trousers.
'Mr. Harris,' Eyes said, a little cautious and uneasy about being approached like this. 'I didn't expect to see you here.'
'No, I'm sure you didn't. I apologise for startling you. I just wanted to catch up with you, see how you're getting along.'
'Fine, thank you,' Eyes replied. He wanted to like the Alpha of the Glass Wolves, but he couldn't for a moment trust him; everything about this situation screamed at Eyes to be cautious.
'I gather your family has a new addition.'
'Well, I see news travels fast.'
'Congratulations.' Theodore smiled, showing too many teeth.
'Thank you,' Eyes replied. He knew there was something else that Theodore wanted and he decided to wait it out rather than press for it.
'I have a matter I need to discuss with you, but perhaps here is not the best place. Would you come to my office first thing in the morning?'
'Certainly. Is there any particular reason for you requesting this meeting in person rather than picking up the phone?'
Theodore cocked his head and looked carefully at Eyes.
'Just trying to be friendly.' He flashed that awkward smile again and Eyes gave him a slow nod of acknowledgement while reeling inside with disbelief.
'Okay,' Eyes said after a moment. 'Well, it was great to see you. I shall see you again in the morning at 9am.'
'Excellent. You take care now.' Theodore turned and strode away.
Eyes got in his car and set off for Grove Street. He couldn't get Theodore out of his mind the whole way back. It was such a show of dominance, such an obvious attempt to intimidate. It had worked. Eyes was keenly reminded that he worked on Theodore's territory and that the experienced and connected Alpha knew far more about his comings and goings than he could ever hope to know in return. How had he known about James so soon? Had someone from The Watch told him? He realised that certain meetings and exchanges needed to be off the record, while others, such as whatever Theodore had to say in the morning, had to be on the record.
He drove too fast, but wasn't stopped and soon arrived at 32 Grove Street. He went inside and heard urgent, whispering voices in the kitchen. He went straight there and found the pack assembled and all talking over one another.
'Hi,' he interrupted. 'What's going on?'
'Hi,' Stalker greeted him first, the others gave nods and smiles of greeting. 'We'll have to fill you in properly later. Right now we have an unconscious boy on our sofa who will probably come around any minute now and we need to decide what to do with him.'
'I was saying that we should take him and leave him in an alley,' Wind Talker said, his voice rising a little above a whisper until Weaver shushed him. He lowered his voice. 'Leave him in an alley and then James should find him, the boy hasn't seen his face. He can befriend him and find out what he knows. Then we can decide what to do with him.'
'Or we could just take him to the hospital,' Stalker hissed. 'He's been unconscious the whole time. I don't think he knows anything, and if he did see anything last night then his mind will have messed it up.'
'What about the Witches?' Eyes asked, looking from one face to the next. 'What if they get hold of him? They could torture him for information. Even if he doesn't know anything they could still do it and he would suffer terribly.'
'Last-Breath-Echoes said something this morning about knowing what someone was doing right before they died,' Weaver said, her voice low and steady. 'What if the Witches can extract subconscious information in a similar way?'
'Echoes also said that she had removed all trace of us from the body and would not report Ian's existence. The Witches may never know his identity. We are NOT killing this boy,' Stalker hissed again. She was so angry and was struggling to keep her voice down. Eyes had rarely seen her this way and was taken aback. 'I will not allow it.' She snapped, her voice rising.
'With all due respect,' Wind Talker said coolly. 'It is not your decision to make. We do what is best for the pack, or whatever the Alpha tells us to do.'
All eyes fell upon the Alpha. He tugged at his collar, suddenly unbearably uncomfortable.
'James? I appreciate that this is your first day with us, but I would appreciate your opinion.'
'Well,' James paused, rubbed his temples and sighed. 'I think Stalker is right. I don't think we can justify killing an innocent human. My only reservation is that a quick death might spare him if the Witches go after him. But that's a big “if”.'
Eyes watched his pack mates for a minute. He had missed so much and felt disconnected from them all. Wind Talker was so cold at times, ruthless one might say, but he undoubtedly felt strongly about what was best for the pack. Stalker and Weaver had changed, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what was different about either of them. James was a stranger to him still, yet he felt connected to him through Unchained Lightning, and trusted his wisdom and judgement.
'We take the boy out of the house, we don't want him to be able to identify this place. We wake him up, just one or two of us so as not to frighten him, and find out what state he is in. Then we make a call. We might be able to protect him.' Eyes looked pointedly at Stalker, who looked about ready to start throwing punches. She calmed down but still looked sullen. 'James, you and I will handle this.'
Eyes needed cool heads on this one and he wanted the chance to get to know his new brother. The two of them went quietly into the living room and Eyes looked down on the unconscious teenager. He looked so young, his whole life still ahead of him. His girlfriend had been brutally killed by terrifying monsters, his home wrecked, and then he himself had been rendered unconscious and kidnapped. The poor boy's life was turned upside down and it would be a miracle if he was able to recover from this.
Eyes and James lifted Ian carefully, Eyes taking his head and shoulders, James his feet. Weaver went ahead of them and opened the door, she checked that the street was clear and then ushered them outside. They put him in the back of Eyes' car and climbed into the front. James kept an eye on the boy while Eyes drove east, towards St. Catherine's.
'There wa
s a demon,' James whispered after a long silence.
'Oh?'
'Stalker and I found a demon with him in his flat. It had done something to him to knock him out and we interrupted. Wind Talker summoned it and we convinced it not to go back to the Witches.'
'How did you manage that?' Eyes asked in surprise.
'By promising to let it feed off self-inflicted pain on our territory.'
'Oh, I see.'
'It was able to tell us a little about the Witches too, we got some helpful information and I expect we can get more.'
'What happens if it betrays us?'
'I'm not sure,' James said, glancing at Eyes with unease.
'Well, let's hope we never have to find out.' Eyes tried to smile, but his face wouldn't cooperate.
They reached a quiet part of St. Catherine's and Eyes parked the car. They carefully pulled Ian from the back seat and dragged him into a dark alley. Night had fallen and Caerton hummed with its usual nocturnal activity, but here in this spot it was relatively secluded and quiet.
Eyes crouched in front of Ian, who lay slumped against the brick wall. He gave the boy's shoulder a firm shake. 'Hey, are you all right?'
The boy stirred and Eyes shook him again. He looked up at James and beckoned him down. James crouched down and touched Ian's shoulder.
'Are you all right, mate?' James asked, raising his voice a little.
The boy's head rolled from one side to the other and back again and a whimper escaped his parted lips. His eyes flickered open and looked around blearily. Eyes waited and watched, giving the boy a chance to come around. James gave him another gentle shake when his eyes didn't open fully. 'Hey, come on, wake up. Are you okay?' James asked, his voice becoming noticeably more anxious. Something was wrong.
Ian's eyes slowly opened, his head still lolled on one side and a low moan escaped his lips. His eyes were glazed and he just sat and stared into the mid-distance.
'He's not right,' Eyes whispered.
'No, he really isn't. We need to get him to hospital.'
