by Lisa Daniels
“You’re doing it all for a good cause, though,” Theon responded, taking a rather liberal swig of his drink. “Shouldn’t matter what other people think at all, right? You know what you’re doing. You know who you are.”
“Of course, but it’s other people that can make you or tear you down,” Morgana answered. “When I went to boarding school, it was all about image. People get categorized. Stupid and smart, big and small, ugly and pretty, freak or normal. Scared or tough,” she added. “If you’ve grown up thinking girls are nice, delicate little creatures, clearly you haven’t been locked in a school of them for several years,” she said, and he laughed in response.
“I’ve not doubted that. You shoulda met my mother. I’m surprised sometimes how my father managed to stick with her for so long. Really loves to live on the wild side of her nature.”
“You take after her or your father?” Morgana said, wriggling her eyebrows, wearing a small but devious grin.
“Neither. I’m a good bear.”
“You’re a huge bear,” she said, now spreading her arms wide as if to indicate his size. “Imagine riding something like you into battle like some noble steed. I’d crap myself if I had to face that.”
“I don’t think we were ever used as steeds,” he said, frowning. “Too undignified.”
“Say...” Morgana held up her bottle of Corona loosely. “You know, I was thinking… because of the bear and human thing. Do you have a preference for how you like your sex?”
“Excuse me?” He didn’t want to leap to any assumptions, but her abrupt subject change and questioning piqued his interest in more ways than one.
“Like, do you prefer sex in bear form, or human form—is that a thing? No one talks about it, but surely there’s a thing.”
“Human,” he said without a shadow of a doubt. “Always human.”
“So… you’ve tried it the other way, too?”
Oh boy, this was going into dangerous territory. And there she sat, looking so innocent, so nonchalant, as if this was something people asked one another all the time. “Yes. Out of curiosity. Completely consensual, may I add,” he said, as her eyes went as big as saucers. “But I have to say, it’s just not as fun. We don’t do it as animals to have fun, and the feelings aren’t quite the same, so yeah. Human sex all the way.” He winked at her, and was pleased to see her blush, to become suddenly shy.
“I admit I wonder if, like, if one of you guys lose control in the moment, and… transform.”
“Nah. Unless the sex made us really, really angry. But you don’t have to worry about an accidental transformation. We have better control than that. Why do you ask, anyway? Are you thinking about taking down a shifter all by yourself?”
“No,” Morgana squeaked. “Just curious. And wanting to ask questions that I don’t get to ask anywhere else.”
“I get it.” He grinned, noting how she sat up from the bed, legs apart, elbows resting on them in a strangely dominant position. Then, as if aware of how unladylike she looked, she crossed her ankles demurely instead. “There’s always so many questions you want to ask, but you can’t, because people might get offended.”
She nodded slowly, chewing on his words. “A lot of the information I got was from other girls. How guys are always rougher, always looking for sex, that they wouldn’t even care how you looked like, really, as long as you were willing to have sex with them.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Theon answered with a smirk. “We might like sex a whole lot, but we have dignity, too. It’s the desperate ones who’ll screw anything.”
“But you’re attracted more visually than a woman, right?”
In response, he very deliberately used his eyes to examine her from head to toe, and could have sworn he heard her breath hitch. “That’s true. We can get going just from the physical appearance of someone...”
“Uh huh,” Morgana said, very distracted by his once-over. Which now made him think that maybe he should drop this before it started going to dangerous waters.
So his response, once thinking that, was to give her a big smile, tell her goodnight, and then lean over to give her a quick hug, a kiss on the forehead, giving her plenty of time to anticipate it.
She stared at him with dazed surprise as he went to his side of the room, finished his drink, and made himself ready for bed.
I shouldn’t have done this, he thought, staring at the ceiling, arms tucked behind his head. I should have kept things light. I shouldn’t have hinted that I find her attractive. Because if she ended up taking all his compliments on board, and showed signs of being intrigued by him, perhaps more, then… he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to keep everything in his pants.
Which would be rather bad. If they grew too attached to one another, it would mean if one ended up in grave danger, the other might not be able to think things through in a rational manner. A breach of the terms of his contract in showing too much interest in a client.
Especially a client who, though her personality remained different, still resembled an old failure. He knew he didn’t want to fail this one. He just couldn’t.
But if this Regal got his claws in her, perhaps all the power of his bear form wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Seven – Morgana
Crawling into Regal’s new den felt like a nightmare. Theon had spent the last two days helping to steadily boost her confidence, to prepare her for the possibilities of what was to come, but it remained in her skull like a headache, waiting to bloom into more intense pain.
The den resembled a horror movie set. It was huge, set in another warehouse two hours outside the city of Stoneshire, disguised as a carpentry plant. Black cloth draped the walls, along with pictures of twisted, demonic faces, hanging skeletons, and Halloween cobwebs. Grotesque party masks lined several shelves, from wolves to clowns to vampires, and Morgana supposed this used to be some kind of adult party store, once upon a time, since there was also something that looked suspiciously like a cactus-shaped dildo. Not that she would ever want to stuff something like that anywhere for her pleasure.
Along with the masked necromancers and the non-combatants slouching around, smoking and drinking, the place had a squalid, sordid atmosphere that made Morgana want to hightail it out before it was too late. Instead, she gripped onto Theon’s wrist for reassurance, and he seemed more than eager to offer it to her. It gave her a tiny amount of security in the throng of all these grizzled, hardened people. The usual pile of body bags lay on one side as well, with the necromantic magic helping to keep their flesh well preserved, long after death.
Regal was there, but with two other people, who both were dressed in a very dark, punk-rock attire, red streaks in their black hair, black pants, the shine of leather, chains, silvery bangles… they added a grunge-goth atmosphere that the other pits didn’t have.
“How wonderful to see you, Crimson,” Regal said, his eyes already trailing over Morgana’s red, long-sleeved top, the tartan colorings to her knee-length plaid, and her severely tied-back hair. With her mask, the overall effect she’d gone for when inspecting herself in the mirror was some kind of old, tribal Scottish warrior, and it certainly seemed to have an effect. There were few women in the venue to begin with, and each of them, like Morgana, had attempted to stick themselves out like peacocks. Theon glowered behind Morgana as she was introduced to Regal’s companions, Blight and Eleganza, a man and a woman, both of whom glowered at Morgana through their masks with baleful eyes.
“I’ve been telling Blight and Eleganza all about your… astonishing match,” Regal said. “And how I’ve invited you to this place, because I think you’re ready for fiercer competition. We have some of our best fighters attend this den. They rather like the setting, you see.” Regal’s icy eyes bored into Morgana, and it took her a second to realize she was holding her breath. He really looked like a predator. He also didn’t hide his face like the others, which told her he was confident in his presence, that people wouldn’t dare snitch on
the process.
Perhaps because he held other people’s lives here in the palm of his hand.
“It looks like someone’s kitted out early for Halloween,” Morgana said, but this only prompted a small laugh from Regal. The other two remained stony silent. Before it got too awkward, Regal reached out and touched her lightly on the arm.
“I’ve requested specifically that you will fight against two people tonight,” he said, and Morgana’s eyes popped wide.
“Wait, what?” She stared, trying not to give in to absolute panic, and the two people behind Regal gave tight, predatory smirks.
“Your skill with your spirit so far has seemed like a winner in the making,” Regal said. “You have the option, of course, to fight one versus two, or to borrow one of our spare spirits to fight with, so there’s a fairer fight of four in the ring.”
Fairer? That’s twice the energy to control two! And especially one that I have no idea about! Morgana took one tiny step back and bumped into Theon, who steadied her with his bulk and presence. “Is this normal, to have one person against two?”
“It’s not unheard of,” Regal said. “When one person shows exceptional talent and promise, the only way to get the crowd betting is to up the stakes. The most exciting challenge we ever had was when a past champion, Santino, had to go against three other fighters. Santino lost, but he gave it such a good fight. He had a spirit similar to yours, if I recall. Chose to fight with the bones, not the body. Chose to fight with just one, too. Not three. Perhaps, Crimson, you will be our new Santino?” Regal grinned, and Morgana felt the pressure crushing her down. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t disappoint me, little red.”
He’s seen a spirit like Beverly Heath before? The news managed to wriggle its way into Morgana’s brain and hold her captive. Could she ask him about this? Or would this showcase her ignorance if she admitted she didn’t know shit about Beverly’s spirit?
Or was he aware that there was something different about this spirit that made it so good to fight with?
“Is Santino retired?” she said, putting on as much confidence as possible. “Because I wouldn’t mind spoiling for a fight with him.”
Regal laughed, though it was high and cold, rather than warm and filled with mirth. “Little spitfire, aren’t you? No, unfortunately, Santino is retired. He made enough, and retreated to the quieter side of life. But who knows? Maybe he’ll turn up to watch a match from you someday.”
With that, Regal dismissed her, and she walked over to the matchup board with a horrible, sinking feeling in her gut.
“Two. He’s making me fight two.”
“It’s a good opportunity,” Theon nudged her. “He said you could get a second, right? So you can inspect different spirits without consequence.”
“Right!” Morgana hugged him. “You’re absolutely right.” She didn’t bother telling him that she had no intention of using another spirit. But in the search for the missing bodies and potential spirits attached to them, she had a chance now. So she headed over to the spare bodies, and asked to examine them for a second fighter. The security guard in charge stared in a hostile manner, but let her conduct her research. She inspected each zipped-up bag, opening them, being quite vocal with some of her critique. (Ugh, this one is more bone than skin. Either go to full bone or have something fresh, you feel me?) All the fresh deceased were a no-go. Having dealt with the Other Side all her life, she didn’t feel any particular unease looking at the bodies. They were just shells. Things that once used to house great souls and great minds.
When the spirits occupied those bodies, they gave a shadow of what they used to be. When the spirits clashed with the bodies, it often gave off a strange, disjointed aura. There were at least three old bodies that made Morgana pause, because they were aged, and one still wore a uniform over the bones, one best suited to the 19th century. The other had that strange, distinctive curvature in its canines that might be shifter-related. Perhaps the original shifter?
But then, why steal such valuable bodies, then leave them on casual display for any old necromancer to take? It didn’t make sense. Surely someone stole a body just for themselves. Nevertheless, she dipped into the Other Side after settling herself, inspecting the spirits that coiled around the remains.
All of the spirits needed to be found deeper than the first level, where Beverly waited, bright and golden, a warm beacon compared to the sea of darkness. Her aura seemed to repel the other spirits, too, and it was a strange sensation. Like sunlight chasing the monsters away so that they only skulked behind things, like shadows. She was more gold than blue than before, and Morgana had to speak to her for a moment, to check how she was doing.
“My oath remains,” Beverly said simply, still dazzling. “With you, I can strive toward it.”
“But what was the oath? It wasn’t vengeance, was it?”
“No.” Beverly shook her shining head, and in the spiritual body, blue eyes stood out in the luminescent face, offering no further information.
“Do you know why you made it?”
“No.” Beverly looked sad. “I’m sorry. I just know it’s important to fulfill.”
The trouble with Beverly, Morgana thought in frustration, was that she didn’t seem to know how she died. Other spirits did, especially when it was violent. Beverly just gave an absent shrug of her ghostly shoulders, and had no other answer to give.
“Do you encounter other spirits like yourself?” Morgana was already feeling through the ether, trying to locate the spirits associated with the bodies.
“Sometimes,” Beverly said, and when Morgana paused for an irritated heartbeat or two, Beverly added, “They’re not common, but they are there. The ones that feel like me. They don’t stay around for long.”
The manner of Beverly’s death was as mysterious as Beverly herself, not even revealed in her historical records. Just one day she was dead, and there was no kind of examination performed to inspect just how she might have died. A mystery wrapped in a supernatural cake.
She left Beverly Heath shining there, and delved deeper into the Other Side, until she began fumbling among the spirits connected with the corpses.
As she thought, none of them matched the descriptions the police were looking for, but there was some frightening hostility in them, that kind of darkness which led toward a corrupted essence. The kind that resulted in the full transformation of a revenant—the demons that cropped up in all the literature.
One particularly hostile spirit, crackling with demonic red, not quite a revenant but definitely on the way there, drew her attention. It wasn’t a part of the bodies that were out for display, but the sheer malevolence tainted Morgana by proximity.
“Who are you?” she said to it, wondering if it would have been forbidden from answering questions from another necromancer.
The spirit, upon being addressed, let out a snarling, ominously grating sound, and seemed to bulge, becoming bigger, forming the outline of a glowing black and red bear.
With one shining red eye.
The threat of danger jolted Morgana into sudden alertness. “Are you Iretha One-Eye? Is your body here?”
More growls scratched out of that ursine throat, and the bear stood up on ghostly haunches, massive and towering over her. Even the other spirits seemed to flit about in nervous energy at the sheer, unbridled rage the not-quite revenant had.
Though Morgana got no verbal confirmation, she felt sure, in her gut, that this was Iretha One-Eye. That the body was in this room, belonging to one of the fighters. But where? If she attempted to contact Iretha completely, there was a chance the spirit would overwhelm and crush her. Revenants and almost-revenants were dangerous and awful beings to deal with.
Plus, if that spirit was bound, its owner would know about any attempts to control it. If she wanted to find the body or bones, she needed to do it from the outside.
Carefully, like a surgeon performing a heart transplant, she edged around the obnoxious spirit, trying
to gather the threads of its connection from the outside. She was Theseus in the labyrinth with the minotaur, using the thread to trace a way back to its origin point. She tried not to feel alarmed when she began following the “thread” and the spirit followed right behind her. She stepped through the layers fast, the colors brightening from monochrome to washed-out shades of the real world, until she was only one layer away, and identified the bones.
She also recognized the living soul near the bones.
Regal.
Of course it would be Regal who’d have something as vicious as a near-revenant.
I’ve found the bones. But I still don’t know about the original case we were sent on.
She slipped out of the Other Side before the malicious bear spirit got its claws in her. She shook her head, noticing the security guard frowning at her. “I don’t think I can work with any of these spirits. I’m going to stay with just mine. But thank you.”
The guard grunted in response, and she was left to her own devices.
Immediately, she went to Theon and pulled him away from everyone else, under the guise of getting a drink and relaxing. “I’ve found Iretha One-Eye, and the spirit belongs to Regal, of course. I’m sure it’s him, even though I didn’t really get any verbal confirmation.”
“The spirit didn’t speak?” Theon said, clutching his cover drink, which was some bottled green mojito. “How can you be sure it’s the right one?”
“It turned into a bear version of its spirit, and seemed vicious and cruel. I’ve seen that kind of transformation when something has been removed from a sacred site. Native American spirits didn’t take kindly to some of the renovations the Europeans did to their sites over the years. We’ve had all sorts of massacres and unexplained deaths. Because of spirits being disturbed, their bodies defiled.”
