by H B Lyne
'James, you were absolutely amazing!' she cried, grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug. He let out a brief laugh and patted her back.
'No problem.'
'Who needs claws, eh?' Eyes asked, grinning at their newest pack mate.
'Not when you have claws of lead,' James said. He lifted his pistol and blew across the barrel, just like in the old Western movies, and they all laughed. A strange, serious expression replaced James's grin and he looked around at them. 'Claws-of-Lead, why do I feel like that's my new name?'
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Lightning Lords stood in the middle of the Circle, congratulating Claws on his name. Nearby there was a choking, gurgling sound among the piles of rat bodies. They all looked around, searching for the origin. Weaver broke away from the group and moved swiftly and smoothly across the corpses to one wererat that was holding on to its life with rattling breaths. She grabbed hold of it and dragged it over to the waiting shifters.
Stalker examined it briefly. It had a broken leg and huge gash in its chest and was fluctuating in form between giant rat and man.
'That is so disturbing,' Weaver said quietly. 'We should question it.'
'Not here,' Eyes said, looking around cautiously. He grabbed the wererat roughly by the scruff of its neck and dragged it from the courtyard, back down the tunnel they had entered through. They crossed the veil and Stalker ran silently to the mouth of the tunnel to check that the coast was clear. Claws joined her and they looked up and down the street. A couple of cars swept past, and less than a hundred yards away there were three young women in skimpy clothing waiting on the street corner.
'I'll get my car,' Claws said, and quickly ran for it. Stalker got the others to stop in the shadows and they waited for Claws. A minute later Claws' beaten up old estate backed up to the tunnel entrance and the boot popped. Stalker ran to it and lifted it up and a moment later Eyes and Wind Talker were hoisting the rapidly shifting body inside. Stalker and Weaver climbed into the back seat. Eyes and Wind Talker went to Eyes' car and they drove quickly back to Grove Street.
They hastily moved the creature into the house and crossed the veil, not wanting any noise it might make to attract attention from their neighbours on the narrow terrace. It groaned with every movement and was bleeding profusely. Wind Talker dropped it down on the kitchen floor.
'What the hell happened in there tonight?' he snarled. The creature on the floor writhed in pain and coughed up a huge glob of blood that splattered onto the linoleum. Stalker gagged a little at the stink, but forced herself to ignore the stench and crack on with the task in hand.
'Do you know Raigo?' she asked, crouching down to get closer to it.
'Raigo?' the creature asked, a deep frown etched onto its jumbled features. 'We are all Raigo.'
Stalker glared at him and then turned and looked up at the faces gathered tightly around them. Everyone shared her confusion.
The creature seemed as confused by the question as they were by the answer. Stalker realised that these creatures did not live as individuals. The Raigo they had met with told them they normally counted their number by the hundred. She began to understand.
'Do you mean all of your kind call themselves Raigo?'
'Yes,' it said with a splutter.
'What about the Red Minister?' she asked the thing before her.
'He was our leader, he was Raigo until we made him our leader.'
'Is he dead?' Claws asked.
The thing on the floor looked up at him with a sneer on its shifting face.
'Yes, disintegrated. We all felt it happen.'
'Tell us about the Plague Doctor,' Eyes demanded, his voice impatient.
The creature coughed again, splattering more putrid blood over himself and the floor.
'Are your kind working with him?' Stalker asked more gently.
'Yes,' it hissed.
'There's a body, it's important to him. Why?'
'We protect the body, it gives him the strength to be here.'
Stalker exchanged meaningful looks with Weaver and Wind Talker. They had been right.
'What is he planning? Why is he here?' Stalker asked.
'Why would I tell you that?' the creature spat.
Wind Talker leaned over and pressed his thumb into the wound on its chest. The wererat yowled in pain and squirmed around on the floor. Wind Talker held fast, increasing the pressure. Stalker looked away, uncomfortable with the turn that the interrogation had taken. In the corner of the kitchen stood Scourging Agony, a nasty grin smeared on his pasty face. Stalker ignored him and looked down at the wererat again.
'To spread plague,' it screamed. Wind Talker released his thumb. 'He can't create it, only spread it, so he needs a sample. I don't know where he's getting it from. Please, that's all I know. Let me go.'
Scourging Agony drew a rattling breath from the corner and smacked his lips together. Stalker glanced at him in disgust. Eyes wheeled around, seeing the demon for the first time.
'You,' he snarled. 'Enjoying yourself?'
'Absolutely,' the demon said, curling his lip.
'How's the tattooist working out for you?' Claws asked.
'It is simply delicious, thank you for asking. You won't be getting any more out of that wretch now.' He pointed a bladed finger at the wererat, who shuddered and recoiled from the demon.
Eyes ran his fingers through his hair and Stalker stepped away from the wererat towards him.
'We've got what we needed. Scourging Agony, would you be so kind as to take this thing and dispose of it?' Eyes asked, turning towards the demon.
'What?' shrieked the wererat. 'I told you everything you wanted to know. Please let me go.'
'I would be delighted,' sneered Scourging Agony, and before Stalker could intervene, the demon swooped towards the wererat, dug his blades into its chest and scooped it up. His mouth opened freakishly wide, his jaw expanding to form a gaping maw, and he shovelled the wererat into his mouth still alive and screaming.
Stalker felt sick to her stomach and she clasped a hand over her mouth to hide her revulsion and her shocked expression. Scourging Agony's mouth returned to normal and he gave them a sickening smile before disappearing.
'Eyes!' Stalker snapped.
'I never told it I was going to let it go,' he said with a shrug. He stepped across the veil and the others slowly followed. Except Claws-of-Lead. He stood looking at Stalker for a long moment, his face full of concern.
'That was awful,' she whispered.
'Yeah, it really was. Are you all right?'
'I will be in a minute.' Stalker rubbed her face with her hands and then shook out her limbs, trying to rid herself of the horrible feeling coursing through her body. 'Nice shooting tonight,' she said after a minute.
'Thanks,' he replied with a smile.
'You saved my skin, literally.' Stalker looked over her shoulder and saw that the scratches had already healed.
'I do my best.'
'Well, thank you,' she said meekly. It wasn't often that she had cause to thank anyone for saving her life, surprisingly, given the life she now led.
'You're welcome,' he replied with a small nod. 'Shall we clean this up?' He indicated the blood all over the floor.
'Yes, definitely.' Stalker went to the sink and turned the tap, unsure of what would happen. Water did begin to flow, but it pooled in the sink for a moment and then rose up in the form of a water elemental. 'Oh, wow,' Stalker said. She watched in awe as the beautiful fae floated out of the sink and onto the floor. It sparkled as it spiralled around and around, its crystal clear body rippling softly. It slipped across the smooth surface and covered the blood, then moved to the door, stained pink. The blood was gone from the floor. The elemental slipped under the back door and Stalker quickly ran after it into the garden. It found its way to the soil and slowly soaked into the ground.
Stalker and Claws exchanged glances. That had been a remarkably easy clean up. Stalker resented having to do it at all, and a
s they crossed back into the human world and settled down for the night, her mind raced with the events of the evening.
The following day was Thursday and Stalker had to go back to work. She was relieved to get out of the house. Tensions were running high with the pack, but thankfully her vial of still waters was soothing her temper just enough to keep a huge argument from erupting. They all needed to rest after the big fight, so solving all of their problems was put on the back burner.
Claws and Eyes went off to work first thing in the morning, Weaver even went in to university to do some work on her PhD. Wind Talker carried on with his research and his work around the house. Stalker noticed a few home improvements when she returned from work in the evening, just minor repairs and a few homey touches added to the kitchen. There was no one else around when she got back, just Wind Talker pottering about in the kitchen. She still felt awkward about the previous night and approached him cautiously.
'Hey,' she said softly, leaning on the kitchen door frame.
'Hey,' he replied, looking up from the washing up. 'Did you have a good day?'
'It was okay, thanks. You?'
'You know, so-so.' He looked at her for a moment and then returned to his chore. 'I was thinking about going to get a tattoo tomorrow. I wondered if you wanted to come.'
'Yeah, okay. What are you getting done?' Stalker replied, a little surprised.
'Something to honour the Blue Moon.'
Stalker nodded, though he wasn't looking at her to see. It was just two weeks since the Blue Moon had fallen. Some days she hardly had the chance to think of them at all. Other days she couldn't get them off her mind. It was almost the new moon too, her one month anniversary since changing. It felt like a lifetime.
'That's a really nice idea,' she said at last. 'I'll get something done for them too.'
'I'll call and make appointments for us both,' Wind Talker said, a sad smile touching his lips.
The following day, Stalker and Wind Talker set off for Red Drop of Ink. Stalker wasn't convinced that going to Scourging Agony's new abode for this was such a good idea, but it was their nearest tattooist, and Wind Talker was convinced that it was important in order to retain positive relations with the demon that could so easily go back to the Witches.
Wind Talker and the others seemed to be fully recovered from the poisoning now, thanks to the rapid healing ability that shifters shared. Stalker hadn't talked to any of them about sacrificing the wererat to Scourging Agony, she felt it was best to let that one go, though a hint of tension remained. She and Wind Talker covered the entire ten-minute walk to the tattooist in silence.
Stalker thought about what she wanted, she tried to picture various options as they walked, and by the time they arrived she was reasonably sure that she had decided.
The shop was painted bright red and had black bars on the windows and door. A sign in the window indicated that the shop was open, so Wind Talker opened the door and they went inside. The walls were covered with posters of heavily tattooed bodies, and there was a strong smell of ink and metal. There were a few old plastic seats and books of templates to browse, but Stalker knew she wouldn't find anything she wanted in there.
A man emerged from the back room, wiping his hands on a cloth. He was very tall with long red hair in a pony tail and a long pointed beard. He wore a bandanna, and a sleeveless shirt, displaying full sleeves of tattoos on both arms. He had on ripped jeans and big black boots, and Stalker smiled, he ticked just about every stereotype box going.
'Hi there,' the guy said in a warm and welcoming voice. 'How can I help?'
'I called yesterday. We have custom designs we'd like,' Wind Talker said, and he pulled a sketch out of his bag. He passed it to the tattooist, who looked at it and gave an appraising nod.
'Okay, cool. I can do this. How about you?' He looked at Stalker.
'Do his first, I'll refine my ideas while I wait.' She took a seat and grabbed a pen and some paper from a small table near the window.
The two men disappeared into the back room and Stalker tried to draw what she wanted. She wondered if it might have been better to go to a shifter tattooist, but she was here now.
The time passed slowly, she wasn't used to sitting still for so long, her life had been such a chaotic jumble over the last month. She could hear the buzz of the electric needle and a little low conversation between Wind Talker and the tattooist. The street outside was fairly busy, cars chugged by, slowed by the large, light-controlled cross roads a few yards up the street. Stalker stared out and watched the world go by, occasionally looking back at her sketch and adjusting it.
Eventually, Wind Talker emerged from the back room with his shirt off and his new tattoos shining. He had four clusters of markings across his chest, one for each of their fallen pack mates, noting their names and their honour in the runes of their people.
'What do you think?' he asked, looking like he was seeking her approval. She smiled and nodded.
'They look great,' she swallowed hard against the grief. 'Are you going to wait for me? You don't have to, you can head back.'
'No, I'll wait,' he said and he took her seat by the window as she followed the tattooist through to the back room.
'So, have you had ink before?' he asked as he cleaned his things and fetched sterile equipment from a small unit next to the chair.
'Yeah,' she answered. She looked around at the extremely clean and uncluttered room. The walls were painted pale blue and there was soft lighting around the edges with a large, bright movable spotlight in the centre over the chair. Stalker shrugged off her jacket and showed him the back of her neck.
'Nice,' he said and held out his hand towards the seat. 'I'm Red, by the way.'
'Ariana,' she replied, her human name sounding odd on her tongue. She sat down and passed him her rough sketch. 'I'd like this here.' She tapped her chest, right over her heart.
'It's beautiful,' Red said with a small smile. Stalker felt like he had picked up on the sombre mood of herself and Wind Talker, and although he wasn't going to ask for confirmation, he had a hunch of the general significance of their chosen tattoos.
Stalker lifted her top over her head, swung her pendants over her shoulder so that they hung down her back out of the way and got comfortable in the chair as Red got everything ready. He held the needle up and looked her hard in the eye. 'Are you absolutely sure?'
She simply nodded in reply. Without another word, Red began. Stalker watched the device move across her skin. It scratched, but the discomfort was nothing to her now. She turned her thoughts to Fortune; she remembered the way he hugged her and made her feel like the centre of his world. She thought of Speaks-With-Stone and her calm aura, her incredible strength and softness at the same time. Flames-First-Guardian was still the most unusual shifter she had met, striking and confident, blunt and stoic. And Shadow's Step, her brother, her mentor. He had taught her to fight, he had nurtured her secret ability to take any form and introduced her to Odin's Warriors. He had set her on the Path of Night and guided her through those vital early days with care and strength.
A tear escaped her left eye and rolled slowly down her cheek. She left it alone and felt it hang off her jaw, suspended above her heart, where Red was carefully working. 'Are you all right?' he asked, without looking up or pausing.
'Yeah,' she replied with a sniff. She wiped the tear from her jaw. 'I'm okay thanks.'
'I've never seen these markings before,' Red said. 'Your friend had the same ones. They aren't Sanskrit or anything I know.'
'No, they're like an ancient European runic language.' It was a half-truth, she couldn't tell him the whole truth. He seemed to accept it though and carried on with the delicate work. Stalker felt the veil ripple slightly as Red worked, and over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of the bladed fingers of Scourging Agony as if he were pulling back the veil to peek across at her. She tried hard not to react. She heard him draw a rattling breath of pleasure and she firmly shoved her revulsion aside. It w
as understandable that he would come to feed on this. The tattoo wasn't causing her physical pain, but she was willingly putting herself in a situation that drew out painful memories, just the sort of thing the demon enjoyed. She couldn't deny him his nature. After a few minutes he disappeared and the veil fluttered closed again.
When Red had finished he wiped away the last smear of blood and sat back to admire his work. Stalker looked down at it and pulled out her phone to take a picture so she could see it the right way up.
An eclipsed blue moon rested on her chest, half over the flesh of her breast. A solid, dark blue circle with a light blue glow around it. Around the edge of the moon were the shifter runes for Fortune, Stone, Flame and Shadow. She would keep them close to her heart for the rest of her life.
'Do you like it?' Red asked quietly.
'I love it, thank you,' she replied softly. She straightened her jewellery and put her top back on.
'You'll need to make sure it gets plenty of air so that it heals well,' Red instructed as they walked back out into the shop front.
'Of course, thanks,' she said, suppressing a smile. It would be healed by the time they got home.
'Can I see?' Wind Talker asked as he stood up to greet her. She grinned and pulled the neck of her top down to show him the work. 'That's really nice.' They exchanged sad smiles.
Red took their payments and said a friendly farewell as they left the shop. The walk back to Grove Street was more animated and Wind Talker slung a heavy arm around Stalker's shoulders as they walked. It felt as though a breach had been at least partially mended, which Stalker supposed was the reason he had asked her to join him. Stalker had to work that afternoon, but she did so with a happy feeling of anticipation about returning to the house afterwards, rather than dreading awkward silence and dirty looks. She hoped the feeling would last.
