“What kind of stuff?” Felix asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Stuff like this,” George replied. “Stuff like animals that appear out of nowhere, people that disappear when they turn a corner, weird birds coming and going at odd times, buildings that have a funny atmosphere. All sorts. We came here today to see if there was anyone who might have something real to bring to the group. We found you.”
Felix drew the inside of his cheek between his teeth. Nothing they had said surprised him. These people might be able to help. He must have been hard to read because the two of them glanced at each other again before looking at him with expectant eyes.
“I saw— I experienced something I can’t explain, I didn’t expect to find anyone who would believe me.” He glanced down the car park. Some of the people from inside the church were getting into their cars and saying goodbye to one another. The traffic rushed past on the road beyond and birds chirruped in the trees that lined the car park. It was surreal to be stood in this ordinary place with relatively ordinary people, talking about such spectacular things. “I saw two men turn into wolves and walk through a hole in the world into some other place.”
Helen gasped and George stared at Felix with his mouth wide open. Had Felix made a terrible mistake? He felt foolish.
“You have to come and tell the others,” George said at last.
Felix breathed a sigh of relief.
“I don’t want to wait around. I have to feel like I’m doing something to find my sister.”
“We’ll get everyone there tonight. Please say you’ll come.”
“Will anyone be able to help me? I don’t want to just exchange stories. I need to take action.”
“We can understand that,” Helen said, smiling softly.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” George said, giving Felix a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Chapter Three
It was almost dark and the sky above was deep purple. The North Star was just peeking out from behind a cloud. The Watch formed a circle around a blazing fire. They stood in the centre of a small park that was lined with trees and a tall, wrought iron fence. It looked the same here in Hepethia as it did in the human world on the other side of the veil. Except that in the human world the park was surrounded by neat, terraced houses. Here there was nothing but clear quartz outside this little patch of green grass. It was a quirk of their territory that previous generations of shifters had designed. This was the very centre of their territory.
Warden-of-Stones was dressed differently. Rather than in her neat work suit, she was wearing black leggings, a heavy cloak adorned with black feathers and had a broadsword strapped to her back. Ragged Edge wore his usual long coat and carried his staff. The others; Mjolnir, Black Rat, Mercury, and Two-Doors-Down were all dressed in practical clothes. But every one of them also wore a black pendant around their necks, bearing the symbol of their pack and of Caerton: the raven.
“In this place of power, we reach out to the darkness, the shadows and the new moon. Artemis hear our call and bless our circle.” Ragged Edge’s voice carried on the still, evening air and echoed back to him. The flames leaped higher and a golden dome formed over their heads, giving off tiny sparks where it touched the ground. There was no moon visible in the sky as the new moon held court. “Now is a time for new beginnings and change. A time for things to be hidden. As the moon waxes, we welcome the returning to the light and the emergence of hidden things back into our field of vision. We beseech Artemis to hear us and return to Caerton that which has been hidden.” He looked around, hoping for some sign that they had been heard. The night was still, and the sky was invisible beyond the golden light that shimmered overhead.
The fire crackled and little sparks drifted up out of the flames to dance on the air. Ragged Edge wished that Warden had allowed him to enlist the help of one of his friends for this ritual. He was an accomplished ritualist, to be sure, but for something this monumental he would have preferred to work with others. Warden would never agree to working with Theodore Harris, but perhaps Red Scythe or Crimson could have helped. They were Alphas of other packs, ones that Ragged Edge trusted with his life. But Warden wanted this kept within The Watch. Ragged Edge disagreed. This was a city-wide problem and would require a city-wide solution. But cooperation had never been a strong trait among their kind.
“Artemis, Goddess of the hunt, the moon and of wild animals. Our creator. We are your Chosen and we call upon you to grant us this.” Ragged Edge called up towards the sky, his palms raised over his head. He dropped his hands to his sides and shook his head. He drew his pocket knife and swiftly cut into his palm. Blood oozed from the cut and glistened in the firelight. He made his way over to Warden and she held out her hand. He cut it and she didn’t even wince. He made his way around the circle, cutting each of his pack mates’ hands. He returned to his place and grasped hold of his raven pendant. His pack followed his lead, and each took hold of their raven in their bleeding palms.
He closed his eyes and began to stomp his foot on the ground. It thudded dully on the damp grass. His pack picked up the rhythm so that they were all stomping in unison. Thump, thump, thump. Ragged Edge felt energy surging through him and when he opened his eyes the fire before him had doubled in size. It roared and crackled fiercely and amongst the flames he could see a figure dancing to the beat of their feet.
Above the dome, the beating of a hundred wings caught the air and a chorus of squawks grew out of the quiet beyond their circle. The ravens rushed over them and the wind was whipped up even through the protective dome. Ragged Edge grinned and gazed up at the dark shapes shooting past. He returned his gaze to the fire and the figure stepped out of it. The fire fae moved towards him, flickering and undulating. When it spoke, its voice was the crackling of firewood and Ragged Edge had to strain to hear its words.
“No one can do what you ask, friend.”
“Not even Artemis?”
“This dark magic is outside of her sphere of influence. Shadow and flame are one. Always shadow where there is flame. So, I understand a little of what is at work here. But I cannot illuminate that which is hidden. It has gone from this realm and naught but moonlight will bring it back.” The fae flickered and stepped back into the fire. Ragged Edge rolled his eyes. He loved his role, but sometimes the fae he dealt with were painfully unhelpful. The ravens were still circling outside the dome, beating their wings against the darkening sky and crying out with their harsh voices. Ragged Edge looked up at the dome and raised his blood-covered hand towards it. The cut had already healed and would barely leave a scar, but the drying blood on his skin remained. He raised his other hand and very carefully lined up his index fingers side by side. He slowly drew them apart, opening up a small hole in the dome.
“Ragged Edge?” Warden said through clenched teeth. “What are you doing?”
“Letting one in.” A raven darted through the small gap and flew down to Ragged Edge. He snapped the hole closed, shutting out the rest. The raven landed heavily on his shoulder and shook its feathers. He smiled at it.
“Odin sees.” The bird croaked, bobbing its head.
“He sees what’s happening?”
“Sees everything.”
“Well, yes, he is the Allfather,” Ragged Edge said with a small smile. “Artemis can’t help here, but can Odin?”
“Why is Odin sending you messages when you tried to invoke Artemis?” Two-Doors-Down whispered from his place next to Ragged Edge in the circle.
“Because we go way back, Odin and I,” Ragged Edge replied, smiling serenely at the large bird on his shoulder. “Tell me, friend, is there anything we can do to bring back the hidden part of Caerton?”
“You need to see.” The raven took flight, circling the shifters. Ragged Edge sighed, his shoulders hunching momentarily before dropping again. He understood what he needed to do. He sat down awkwardly on the damp ground, straightening his long coat under him in order to get comfortable. His old knees click
ed as he crossed his legs and he grumbled softly to himself. Warden was watching him with a deep frown knitting together her dark eyebrows. The others kept a look out for the dome holding. The ravens were allies and meant no harm, but the dome was there to protect them from anything else that might be drawn to the ritual.
Ragged Edge placed his lined hands on his knees and closed his eyes. He focused on the flickering of the firelight beyond his eyelids, orange and red lights dancing in a blur. He slowed his breathing and connected his thoughts to the earth below and night sky above. Artemis was watching from the shadows tonight, hidden from view, just like St. Catherine’s. But she was there, the moon was there, even though they couldn’t see it.
He drew in the energy of the moon with his breath and let out fear and doubt. He opened his mind to Artemis, his patron, his creator. He was one of the Chosen of Artemis. She gave shapeshifters their animal forms and special gifts. She chose Ragged Edge for a purpose and he trusted her with all of his heart. A smile lit up his serene face.
Artemis touched his thoughts with a single, silver spark and his mind was plunged into a vision. He was a raven flying over a darkened Caerton. Lights twinkled below. Cars swept along the roads; people scurried like ants. The city itself was alive and he was witness to it. He soared over the castle, followed the river north and then the lights vanished. Below was nothing but inky blackness. Ahead he could see the docks on the estuary that the river spilled into. They were lit and alive but between them and Old Town there was nothing.
He gazed down into the black and gradually he began to see swirling shapes. Then he was back in the ritual circle in his wolf form, looking at his pack mates. The six wolves stood in a circle, their bright eyes shining in the firelight. Above them the sky was full of ravens beating their feathered wings and singing their discordant song. He was not alone. He was surrounded by power. The golden dome came shimmering down around the shifters and the ravens swooped down into the circle, surrounding the wolves. Ragged Edge felt calm, detached, this was still part of the vision. The black sky above was empty but as he gazed up at it he saw the slip of a crescent moon appearing and quickly waxing to a half moon, then a gibbous and finally becoming full. Its silver light shone down on the wolves and reflected on the shining wings of the ravens still circling them. Beyond the circle a throbbing city emerged from the darkness, bathed in moonlight. Traffic, voices, music; the wonderful chaos of the city was restored.
Ragged Edge’s eyes sprang open and he looked at his human-shaped pack mates around him, all looking at him expectantly. A single raven flew around the circle and the golden dome still shone over them. He grabbed his staff and hauled himself to his feet.
“Well?” Warden asked.
“We need the moon.” He cleared his throat and brushed the dirt and grass from his hands and knees. “We need to accelerate its course.”
“How on earth do we do that?” Two-Doors-Down said, his disbelieving voice echoing dully off the protective dome.
“We’re the Chosen of Artemis,” Ragged Edge said, as calm and steady as he had felt in his vision.
“That’s never meant that we can control the phases of the moon before, brother,” Mjolnir said.
“Just because it’s never been done doesn’t mean it can’t be. Artemis showed me what to do.” He stomped his feet and clapped his hands together, beating out a rhythm. His pack gradually joined him, and the ground trembled under them. He raised his arms over his head and swept them in a great arc, bringing down the dome. Warden let out a stifled cry, but he continued with his plan, undeterred. The ravens cascaded down upon them, swirling around the circle and in between the shifters, narrowly missing the fire that still blazed.
“Woah!” Doors cried as the birds rushed around him, causing him to lose his balance for a moment before recovering himself. He was grinning as he watched the birds in awe.
“Artemis, Mother, hear us!” Ragged Edge called out over the din. “Show us your light!”
“Show us your light!” Echoed his pack, their voices unified. Their feet still pounded the relentless rhythm on the ground and the birds swooped all around them.
“Caerton is broken,” Ragged Edge went on. “Shine your light on the city.”
The fire roared higher and higher in the centre of the circle, the fae within it dancing frantically to the beat of their stomping feet. Ragged Edge drew his knife again and re-opened the cut in his palm. He clamped his raven pendant in his bloody hand and hoisted the cord over his head, raising his clenched fist to the sky. There was a flash of lightning and crash of thunder. Directly over his raised hand the clouds parted, and the ravens flocked out to the sides to reveal a shining crescent moon.
The ground shook and Ragged Edge toppled to his knees. He shifted rapidly into his wolf form, forcing his body to make a change that it had made countless times. He turned his nose to the sky and howled. His pack mates followed his lead and all shifted, like a ripple around the circle. He howled again and all six wolves were calling to the moon above. It waxed a little more, inching towards a half moon. There was a great rush of air and the pressure of gravity seemed to increase, pressing Ragged Edge and his pack into the ground.
As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Ragged Edge started to get to his feet. There was a great sonic boom and Ragged Edge collapsed to the ground. His closing eyes settled on Warden’s stunned, wolf face as she too dropped to the ground.
Felix felt all of their eyes watching him. He took a large swig of his pint of beer. It was the first drink he'd had since the start of this madness. He needed it to get through his story.
“Well,” George said then cleared his throat. “What do you guys make of it?”
Felix glanced up and looked around the cluster of people sat around the table at the back of the quiet pub. They were an odd assortment of people with nothing in common. But they all had that haunted look about them that Felix associated with the people who had been through trauma, like he had. Helen reached across the table and closed her hand over his.
“Thank you for telling us about it.”
Felix gave a nod and slid his hand out from under hers.
“He just healed right in front of you?” A young man next to Helen stared at Felix, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
“Right.”
“I work in A&E,” an older woman said softly. She had a hard face and alert eyes. “I’ve seen wounds that ought to kill a person vanish overnight. Those patients always disappear before we can complete their discharge papers. I believe you.”
“These are things you might see in a film,” George chimed in. “Most people would never expect to see them in real life. But all of us here have seen things that have scared us, alarmed us, made us reconsider our place in the world.” The others nodded and murmured agreement. Felix took another sip of his drink and pressed his free hand down on his trembling knee under the table. “Felix, what happened to you is more direct than anything any of us have experienced. We’ve just had tiny glimpses of the supernatural world. But you’ve stepped right into it.” George looked at him in awe and Felix felt discomfort creeping up his spine.
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” he said, not meeting George’s gaze. He wanted a cigarette. He felt as though he was on display and it made him nervous. His knee had started to bounce again, and he pressed his hand against it to steady it. He felt acutely aware of his handgun in its holster inside his jacket. He wasn’t taking any chances now and was going to stay armed. The law be damned.
“If they’re werewolves, then I wonder if the stuff from films is accurate?” The youngster who had seemed skeptical was gazing just past Felix into the mid-distance, lost in his train of thought.
“What stuff?” Helen asked.
“Like how you kill them.”
“Silver bullets?” George said with absolute seriousness. Felix held back an eye roll.
“Yeah! Where can you get those?”
“You can’t,” Felix said, un
able to hide his exasperation completely. “You’d have to make them.” He added hastily.
“Actually,” said the hard-faced woman who worked in A&E. Felix looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. She reached into a large handbag at her feet and pulled out a small cardboard box. She flipped up the lid and inside were a dozen bullets. Felix reached out and lifted one from the box. It looked more or less like a regular bullet, but it had been tampered with.
“What’s this?”
“It has silver filings inside.”
“Did you make them?” Felix raised an eyebrow and lifted his gaze from the bullet in his fingers to her lined face.
“Yes. I looked up how to do it online.”
“Why?” Helen asked, aghast.
“Because I suspected what they are, and I wanted to be prepared.”
“Do you have experience with firearms?” Felix asked. She didn’t look like the type. This wasn’t exactly the US, where any Tom, Dick, or Sally could pick up a gun at the supermarket and go shooting.
“I grew up in the countryside. My father kept hunting gear and hosted shooting parties. I’ve been shooting pheasants since I was twelve.”
Felix nodded appraisingly and turned the bullet over in his fingers again. He wasn’t sure whether this could work, but it was worth a try.
“Can I keep this?”
“Sure.” She closed the box and slipped it carefully back into her bag. Felix pocketed the bullet into his jeans. It would work with his handgun.
A rumble beneath their feet made their glasses clink on the table. Felix looked around at the group’s startled faces.
“Is that an earthquake?” George said, getting to his feet and promptly sitting back in his chair. Felix clung to the table, memories of caravans of tanks flashed into his mind. Aircraft flying low overhead. Distant bombs dropping. He squeezed his eyes tight shut and took deep breaths. Great pressure held him in his seat and the rumbling continued. He chanced a glance around him and everyone in the pub was similarly disabled. One woman at the bar had fallen to the floor and was crying. The barman was gripping the bar so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Wayward Magic Page 51
