by H B Lyne
Chapter Thirty
Fights-Eyes-Open
The pack assembled at Grove Street around dinner time. Wind Talker had cooked a roast chicken, with a little help from Weaver and Claws. Eyes arrived feeling a little grim.
'I think Chloe is sick,' he said as he entered the kitchen.
'Is Perfection-of-Flesh at your house?' Wind Talker asked. Eyes nodded.
'Yeah, I think so. Chloe has been struck by a sudden urge to take vitamin supplements, when she never has before.' Eyes smiled weakly.
Stalker patted his arm and gave him a reassuring smile.
'Well, let's hope his help can pull her through without it getting too serious.'
'Can we try and get hold of some of the antivirals anyway? Just in case?' Eyes asked, looking pointedly at Claws and Wind Talker.
'Why are you looking at me?' Claws asked. 'I'm a PI, not a drug dealer.'
'I know,' Eyes said. 'But I thought you might know someone.'
'It's okay,' Wind Talker said. 'I know a guy. I already put out feelers for this just in case.' He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and passed it to Eyes. Eyes unfolded it and read it quickly.
Ribavirin antivirals. Meet @ The Dragon's Den, South Stoke, 11pm. Cameron.
'Is this tonight?' Eyes asked.
'Yes. It's a club on Hellsclaws' territory. Do you want to call Scribe-of-the-Fallen and check with him that it's okay for us to turn up there?'
'Sure,' Eyes replied and immediately took out his phone to call their contact. It rang for what felt like a long time and just as Eyes was about to give up, Scribe answered the call.
'Hello?' he asked, sounding breathless.
'Sorry. It's Fights-Eyes-Open. Is this a bad time?'
'No, it's fine. Just a second.' There were some strange noises at the other end of the line and Eyes waited, trying not to listen too closely in case it was personal or pack business. After a moment it went quiet and Scribe returned. 'How can I help?'
'I was hoping to get permission for my pack to enter your territory tonight. We have an appointment at The Dragon's Den.' Eyes explained.
'Yes, of course. Cameron set it up, didn't he? We're already expecting you.' Scribe sounded mildly surprised.
'Oh. Is Cameron your pack mate?'
'Yes,' Scribe replied, a smile in his voice. 'Didn't Wind Talker know that?'
'I guess not. Sorry to bother you. I guess we'll see you later.'
'Not a problem, see you later.' Scribe ended the call and Eyes looked at Wind Talker with a half-smile as he put his phone away.
'Cameron is one of us. Didn't you know?'
'No, I've never met him face to face. Flames used to get all of the drugs and herbs and stuff for rituals from him, and put me in touch. There's a dead drop in town for everything, with no personal contact, usually.'
'So, a night on the town then?' Stalker asked with a grin.
'Sounds good to me,' Weaver said. She did a little happy dance and bumped hips with Stalker, they both fell about laughing. Eyes felt irritation bubbling up inside his throat.
'It's business,' Eyes snapped and both women stopped laughing and looked at him.
'Sorry,' Weaver said, dipping her head.
'It's okay. I'm sorry for snapping. I'm just worried about my wife.'
'We know that,' Stalker said calmly. 'Let's eat and get going, shall we?'
They sat down around the little table and ate quickly, all eager to get out of the house. Weaver and Stalker ate particularly quickly and then dashed off to get changed. Eyes was still in his work suit. He had wrapped up his last case and was ending the week knowing that he would soon be working for Theodore Harris. He felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. He took off his tie and rolled it up neatly before tucking it into his pocket. The two women returned looking suitably dressed up for a night clubbing. He couldn't blame them, two young women who had had their carefree lives taken from them before they'd really had chance to live. He had done his share of drinking and late nights when he was their age, but he had settled down to have a family and develop his career years before he had changed.
Eyes caught a glimpse of a new tattoo on Stalker's chest, above her scandalously low cut top, but he didn't allow his eyes to linger. He just caught the rune for Fortune and felt a surge of mixed emotions. Pushing his feelings to one side, he led the pack out to his car and they set off for the club in South Stoke.
It was on the far side of Caerton from St. Mark's. They drove south, through China Town and the city centre, west across the river by the castle into Old Town and turned south again into South Stoke. It was a heavily industrial area of the city, but there were also lots of retail areas, some more successful than others. There were lots of low buildings with big car parks and glaring neon signs. The more residential parts were run down and poorly lit.
Eyes took directions from Claws to the club and drove past the front of the building that the website had directed them to. It was an old factory, long since closed, and there was nothing at all on the front to indicate that there was a nightclub inside. Eyes parked in a narrow back street between two red brick buildings, he wished he could camouflage his car in rough neighbourhoods like this one. There were people milling about in the street, smoking and drinking. They were all dressed for a goth club, with varying amounts of PVC and black eyeliner, crazy hair extensions and huge platform heels. And that was just the men.
The buildings on either side had black fire escapes snaking up them, much like the old betting shop had done. On the second floor of one of them was a narrow, steel door with a blinking green light above it. When the light was on Eyes could make out a small black dragon on the light casing. He pointed up, and without waiting for the others, set off up the fire escape. He led them up to the second floor and opened the steel door. He expected to be hit by loud music and smoke, but the door simply opened into a quiet, small room. They filed inside and approached another door at the back. There was a small window next to it with shutters across it and a crack of light down the centre. Eyes looked around his pack mates in bewilderment. This was by far the most unusual club he had ever been to.
He knocked on the window and it popped open. A young man sat on the other side, he had long black hair and a short beard. He glanced over Eyes' shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Eyes was suddenly acutely aware that most of their attire didn't match the club's target clientele. Stalker was possibly the exception, with her visible tattoos, low cut black top and skinny jeans with black boots.
'Five please,' he asked firmly.
The doorman silently counted out five stubs from a ticket book and looked at Eyes with deep scepticism. Eyes paid cash and the doorman handed over the tickets. Eyes nodded in thanks and led the way over to the door. There was a buzz and a red light on the door blinked to let him know that it would now open. He pushed the door and was met with the noise he had been expecting from the fire escape.
Loud music pounded out a relentless rhythm, the air was filled with smoke and coloured lights flashed and swirled around the cavernous space inside. They walked out onto a broad landing constructed from scaffolding and heavy, black metal mesh like the fire escape outside. Eyes walked slowly to the railing and looked down onto the club below. The dance floor was packed and hanging over it was a colourful model dragon. At one end of the club was a huge stage and at the other was a vast bar that was heaving with waiting patrons.
'This is fantastic!' Stalker cried out over the music. Eyes gave her a quick smile, he was genuinely pleased to see her happy, it was too rare. Across the other side of the club was another balcony, on it was a small, quiet bar area and booths of perspex with deep red couches inside. Eyes spotted Scribe sitting in one of them with a small group of people.
'That must be them,' he said, pointing across the club. The Lightning Lords made their way down the steps into the belly of the club and weaved through the crowd to the stairs on the other side. They got to the top to find a red rope across the stairs, and a burly bouncer s
tood with his arms crossed over his chest.
'Have you booked a booth?' he asked in a gruff voice.
'We're expected,' Eyes said and pointed over towards Scribe. The bouncer glanced over and then back at Eyes with careful consideration.
'One moment.' He strode over to the booth that Scribe was in and another man stood to greet him. They exchanged a few words and the man looked over at the Lightning Lords. He gave the nod and the bouncer returned to lift the rope for them.
'Thank you,' Eyes said politely as they passed through, and he led the pack over to the booth. Scribe stood to greet them and shook Eyes' hand.
'How are you doing?' he asked warmly.
'Not too bad, thanks,' Eyes replied.
'This is Voice-of-Truth, my Alpha.' Scribe indicated the man who had granted their admittance. He was quite short, the top of his head barely coming level with Eyes' chin, and had tightly cropped, dark hair. He was dressed all in black, with dozens of wristbands and chains on his arms. His eyes were sharp and wise. He radiated calm, Eyes noted, making him a half moon, like Claws.
'Come in and take a seat,' the Alpha said, gesturing to the curved sofas around the booth. There were three other members of the Hellsclaws besides the Alpha and Scribe-of-the-Fallen. The two women were clearly sisters, they had a very close resemblance, but one of them stood out to Eyes. She had long dark hair with streaks of blue in it, piercing blue eyes and a stud in her nose. She was wearing a black PVC vest and extremely short shorts. On her right arm was an ornate tattoo of lightning running from her shoulder to her elbow.
Her sister was more plainly dressed. The other member of the pack was a young man, who sat with his arms stretched out over the back of the sofa, a smug expression on his face. He wore huge boots that came almost to his knees, and a sleeveless shirt with a heavy metal band logo emblazoned across the chest. As the only other male, he had to be Cameron.
Wind Talker led the others into the booth and they all sat down, Wind Talker taking a seat next to Cameron. Eyes observed the discreet handover of the drugs and was able to relax a little, knowing that Wind Talker had them. The booth door clicked shut and the noise of the club dimmed away to almost nothing, granting them some peace and a sense of privacy, despite onlookers being able to see inside.
The two packs exchanged trivial pleasantries. Eyes sat next to Voice-of-Truth, and the other Alpha called a waiter over by hitting a big red button in the middle of the table, which made the perspex around them glow with red light from above. A waiter entered the booth a minute later and they ordered a round of drinks. Eyes was confident that no one would try to poison them this time.
Idle chit chat filled the next few minutes until their drinks arrived. Eyes found it difficult to participate, he wanted to get down to business. They had come for the antivirals, but there was so much more they could talk about. It was possible that the Hellsclaws had information or resources that could help. After a few minutes, Eyes leaned closer to Voice-of-Truth.
'I was hoping you might have some information or suggestions for us on a critical issue,' he said. The other Alpha gave him a grave look.
'I see. What's the problem?'
'We're facing a demon of plague who has allied with the rats in Caerton. Has anyone ever dealt with anything like this before?'
'Scribe is the one to ask,' Voice-of-Truth beckoned Scribe over and he scooted closer, sitting on the table in the middle of the booth and leaning close.
'What's up?' Scribe asked.
'Do you know anything about the plague? Or diseases in general?' Eyes asked.
'Only a little,' he replied. 'Shifters were apparently instrumental in bringing outbreaks to an end in the past. Sometimes it's essential that there is an outbreak, as it restores balance, but the demons who thrive on it rarely end it voluntarily so our kind has had to step in. Why are you asking?'
'Is this related to the medicine you requested?' Voice-of-Truth asked.
Eyes nodded solemnly.
'There's a demon on our territory who is trying to start an epidemic.'
'Oh, that's not right at all,' Scribe said, looking worried. 'No demon should start it, it's a part of nature and happens from time to time, at which point the demons come for the all-you-can-eat buffet.'
'So we are right to try and prevent it?' Eyes asked.
'Yes, and it would be wise to establish how this demon came to be awake and working here,' Scribe said, his face grim.
'He's tethered here by the corpse of an old plague doctor,' Eyes informed them. 'But we don't know how he got here in the first place.'
'I need to know how this demon was vanquished last time there was an outbreak,' Wind Talker said, leaning in to join the discussion. 'If shifters banished it back to its own realm then maybe there is a record of how they did it.'
'Maybe, but it would pre-date any of the Scroll Keepers' normal records. If there is any information on that it will be in the Scroll Archive,' Scribe explained.
'What's the Scroll Archive?' Eyes asked.
'A hidden archive of all of our records. But it's lost. Neither Echoes nor myself know its whereabouts. Flames almost certainly did.' He looked awkwardly at Wind Talker.
'Does no one else know? Perhaps someone who isn't a Scroll Keeper?' Eyes asked, unable to hide the desperation from his voice.
'It's likely that Father Ash knows,' Scribe said. Eyes noticed a quick glance between Scribe and his Alpha. Tension filled the air.
'Who is Father Ash?' Eyes asked. He didn't like that look between them, and as he said the name he felt a shiver down his spine.
'An outcast shifter,' Voice-of-Truth said quietly. 'He was a Scroll Keeper and one of the city elders. He was a very well respected hunter.'
'What did he hunt?' Eyes asked, not sure that he really wanted to know the answer.
'Spiral Hand,' Voice-of-Truth said in a voice barely above a whisper.
'So he was a hero?' Eyes asked, unsure where this was going.
'For a while,' the other Alpha replied. 'But the other elders suspected that he had been tainted and become Spiral Hand himself. He was cast out of Caerton.'
'Where is he now?' Wind Talker asked.
'He lives out on the coast to the west,' Scribe replied. 'In that big white house.'
Eyes knew the place, it was a notable landmark.
'Is he likely to welcome visitors?' Eyes asked.
'I have no idea, but I strongly urge you to stay away from him and find a solution from the present rather than looking too far into the past.' The two Alphas locked eyes, and Voice-of-Truth's expression was set in a deep frown. Eyes felt the seriousness of his concern, but he didn't see where else they could turn.
'The Scroll Keepers do need to learn the location of the Scroll Archive,' Scribe broke the tension gently. 'If you do approach him and he is able to tell you, please could you keep me involved?'
'Of course,' Eyes said. He had assumed that this would all go through Scribe.
Scribe patted him on the shoulder and moved over to Stalker and Weaver. Voice-of-Truth still looked grim, but he let the subject go. 'When it comes to taking down the Plague Doctor, can we count on your support?' Eyes asked.
Voice-of-Truth looked at him carefully for a moment.
'That's not normally how it works,' he said slowly. 'We can certainly share information, but we would not come to your aid in a conflict. It is your territory and your responsibility.'
Eyes felt frustrated, but he suppressed the feeling and nodded in understanding. 'You are all welcome to stay here this evening and enjoy yourselves. You might need the R and R.' The Alpha stood and placed a firm hand on Eyes' shoulder before leaving the booth and heading over to the bar. Eyes watched him move behind it freely and go through a back door and he realised, a little belatedly, that the Hellsclaws must own The Dragon's Den.
Eyes sighed and leaned back into the sofa. The girl with the lightning tattoo moved to sit next to him, too close to him, and he cast his tired eyes over her. She was incredibly a
ttractive, though not his usual type. She leaned her head back to rest on the sofa cushion and smiled at him.
'I'm Lightning Claw,' she said. Her voice was like honey.
'Fights-Eyes-Open,' he replied.
'Did you get what you came here for?' she asked. Her fingers gently brushed a stray hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He looked into her pale eyes and realised that she was coming onto him. He glanced at her cleavage, but mercifully Chloe popped into his head and he moved away from her and cleared his throat.
'Yes, thank you. Nice to meet you.' He stood up and leaned across the table to Wind Talker. 'I'm going to make a move, I want to get those pills to Chloe.'
Wind Talker nodded and passed Eyes the small bottle.
'We'll get a taxi home,' Wind Talker said. 'I hope these do the trick.'
'Thank you,' Eyes replied and gave Wind Talker a brotherly one-armed hug. He said his goodbyes to the others and left the club. It wasn't his scene anyway.
He drove home across Caerton, determined to shake off the temptation of Lightning Claw and focus on his family. Chloe was long since asleep when he got home. She felt clammy to the touch and had placed a bucket by the bed. He hoped it was just a precaution. He placed the bottle on the night stand next to her and went to shower before tucking into bed beside her. He couldn't help feeling guilty for giving her this horrible disease. A tiny voice in his head, that sounded remarkably like Fortune, told him that this is why shifters didn't try to have human families. They are fragile and a vulnerability, the voice said.
I know, he replied.
Chapter Thirty-One
Stalker-of-Night's-Shadow
Stalker woke early the following morning, still tired from the late night. She could hear Eyes and Wind Talker talking in the kitchen; the others were stirring too. She shifted from fox to human form, stretched and wandered through to the kitchen, yawning.
'Morning. You're here early,' she said, looking pointedly at Eyes.
'We need to go to see Father Ash as soon as possible. I don't want to sit on this.'
