“Go get some rest. You’ve earned it. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Right you are,” the old man said. The two men set off towards the main road. The curator watched them go before closing the door with a loud thunk and setting off in the opposite direction. Felix was on his feet in an instant and sprinted along the landing. He slid down the banister and his feet hit the concrete floor, sending a wave of pain up his legs. He shook it off and bolted for the door. He slipped through it and closed the door behind him, then looked one way then the other. His mind made up, he followed the two men.
He ran to the end of the street and peered around the corner. There was some light traffic, bright headlights and brake lights glinting on the wet tarmac. The two distinctive figures were walking away from him to the right and he set off after them. There were few other pedestrians in sight. Felix kept a good distance between himself and his quarry, wary of being spotted. He didn’t know how effective Maxwell’s cloak was. If the men turned around and looked him right in the face, he thought they would probably see him.
After a few minutes, the two men went in opposite directions. Felix peeled off after the old man, still keeping his distance. He followed him up a quiet, residential street lined with tall trees and cars parked close together on both sides of the road. The old man’s staff clunked on the pavement but he wasn’t putting any weight on it. Felix watched the man’s even gait and decided he didn’t need the staff to act as a walking stick: it was for show, or a weapon.
Felix followed him around a corner and paused in the cover of a thick hedge as the old man came to a halt and stepped off the path into a garden. Felix walked slowly towards where he had disappeared from view. He heard a door open and close again and he walked quickly up to the gate and glanced to his right to see an empty front garden leading to the little, Tudor house. He kept walking and came to a halt a few houses down.
“Well, now I know where that one lives.”
Chapter Four
The following days became somewhat routine for Felix. He slept for a few hours in between periods of following the shifters and tracking their comings and goings. He began to build up a picture of their routines and figured out where all of the men retreated to. The three younger men shared a flat above a hardware store near the river. The other older man with the strange little plaits in his long beard spent a lot of time at the old man’s house. The woman from the museum was harder to track. Felix had tried to follow her a few times but she kept disappearing when she turned corners. Felix guessed she was disappearing into that Hepethia place. She never reappeared in the same place as she vanished.
Felix was able to do some research on her. Her human name was Eleanor Starkey and not only was she the museum curator, but she was also an elected member of the city council. She was usually wearing a suit and he followed her between the city hall and museum several times. She was the leader and the men did everything she told them. They even called her Alpha.
He had set up a kind of camp in the empty warehouse with a few basic provisions for his stake-outs there, but he found that he was there less as the days went by. The shifters were busy and would come and go a lot, which meant a lot of tailing for Felix.
He spoke to Emma a few times but didn’t tell her what he was doing. He thought she probably wouldn’t approve. She hadn't felt comfortable with him arming himself and going after them, so he felt it best to keep this to himself.
The little sleep he was getting was plagued with nightmares. He would wake up in a cold sweat with a cry in his throat. He kept seeing his sister’s body, but those images were mixed in with memories from combat and he would wake up confused and afraid.
A week after he first started properly keeping an eye on the shifters, Felix was sitting in his chair in the warehouse – he had replaced the small stool with something more comfortable – his eyes drooping as he watched the empty street below. Rain pattered on the window, traffic rumbled along the main road a few yards away and Felix gave in to the exhaustion tugging at his eyelids. His chin dropped to his chest and he drifted off.
He was on a rooftop under a blazing hot sun. His helmet and pack were causing him to sweat. The rifle in his hands was heavy. He wiped sweat from his brow and squinted at the double doors of the building opposite. His radio crackled and the voice of his squad leader came through but it was a jumble of words that he couldn’t understand.
“Go! Go! Go!” the voice yelled through the radio. Felix hoisted his rifle to his shoulder and took aim at the doors. They burst open and he fired. Several gunshots rang out, echoing off the stone buildings all around. A body dropped to the floor, dark stains appearing on the light tunic of the victim. He squinted in the dazzling sunlight and saw Julie lying on the pavement, riddled with holes.
“No!” He leapt out of his chair and knocked it over with a clatter that echoed around the empty warehouse. He looked around, no idea where he was or what he was doing. Voices outside caught his attention and he remembered what was going on. He dashed to the window and looked down into the street. Four of them were down there, talking quietly. The two older men were turning to leave.
“Mjolnir, be careful,” the woman said. The man with the plaited beard gave a nod and set off. Felix grabbed his notebook from the floor and jotted down the odd name. He thought he recognised it from a movie. The older man was called Ragged Edge. He had caught that earlier. He now had most of their names. Eleanor, or Warden as they called her, went back inside and the young Asian lad went the other way up the street. Felix was still unsettled from his nightmare and didn’t race out to follow any of them. He picked up his chair and set it back by the window. He sat down and flicked through the pages in his notebook. It was filling up with his untidy scrawl. He was keeping notes on the things he learned about these people, looking for something, some sign of their dangerous activities.
Maxwell had been fairly quiet all week, just letting Felix get on with things, but he could always feel the demon’s presence, even if he wasn’t speaking much. Felix rubbed his tired eyes and slumped forwards in his chair. He wanted something to happen. He felt stagnant.
A shrill ring yanked him from his thoughts and he quickly reached for his phone. It was Emma. He answered, a smile lighting up his face.
“Hey.”
“I just finished work for the weekend. Do you want to come over?”
“That sounds like an excellent idea. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Good. I need a repeat performance of last time.”
“I’ll do my best.” He grinned and ended the call. It was going to be a better evening than he had had all week.
Half an hour later, Felix was on Emma’s doorstep, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for her to answer the door. She flung it wide and greeted him with a broad grin.
“Hey. Come in.” He stepped inside and wrapped his arms around her. She caught his lips and they stood there in the open doorway kissing intensely. He shuffled her into the hall and kicked the door closed. It slammed shut and the letter slot rattled; a coat fell down from the rack beside them and they both started to laugh. Felix broke the kiss and picked up Emma’s coat. She took it and hung it back up. She grabbed his hand and dragged him through the house, up the stairs and into her room. He kicked off his boots, shrugged off his jacket and carefully removed his gun holster while her back was turned. She was stripping off her work clothes and he dived in to help before she got too far without him. They were like teenagers, unable to keep their hands off one another and before he knew it they were lost in each other all over again.
Felix eagerly explored Emma’s body. She had a shining scar all the way around her shoulder where she had been injured and had surgery. He kissed the smooth skin gently and traced the line with his finger. She paid equal attention to his scars, all of them. It felt indulgent and intense, to be so intimate with someone. Neither of them said a word. He was hard as a rock and yet patient enough to hold back while they engaged in such tende
rness.
He hadn’t felt this close to anyone since the early days of his marriage, but he shoved those intruding memories aside. He was here in this moment with Emma and he was going to enjoy every second. He made love to her slowly, passionately, drawing out their pleasure. He was drowning in her and he was willing to lose himself completely.
It was late in the evening when they were finally satiated. He lay beside her, staring at the ceiling, his breath coming in light waves. She was drifting towards sleep. He turned his head to watch her eyelids fluttering until they went still. He smiled, more at peace than he had been in as long as he could remember.
Sometime in the darkness that followed, Felix felt his heart pounding. He was hiding from something, or someone. He was panting and his muscles ached from running. He felt as though something was in the dark with him. A faint whisper of breath on the back of his neck confirmed that he was not alone. He whirled around and grasped for whoever was there, but his hands touched only air. He stumbled blindly and a cry rose in his throat. He held it down and staggered backwards. His back bumped into a cold, stone wall and he ran his sweating palms over it, stepping sideways and feeling his way carefully.
A soft giggle drifted towards him. It was coy and girlish. He stopped and waited. There was a rush of wind and the thing was upon him. Something like a spider web in his face, soft and clinging. He gagged and tried to back away but he was pressed against the wall. It was all over him, reaching down his throat, choking him. He fought it, but it clung to him and he gasped for air. His fingers clawed at his face and throat, desperate to get the stuff off, but nothing worked. He struggled for breath and lashed out with his arms and legs. He was on the ground, gravel in his hair, and that giggle echoed around him.
“NO!”
There was a muffled cry right beside him and he was ripped from his nightmare. He was straddling something and his hands were wrapped around something firm. His eyes popped open and to his horror, Emma’s bulging eyes looked back at him. Her fingers clawed at his hands, which were wrapped around her throat. Her hips were straining against him and her legs thrashed wildly. He released her and leapt backwards, tumbling off the bed and thumping to the floor. She gasped and clutched her neck as she shuffled back against the wall.
“I’m sorry, Emma. Oh God. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He scrambled back onto the bed and inched carefully towards her. She stared at him, eyes wide and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Panic rushed through his veins and all he could do was kneel there on the bed beside her, not daring to touch her. Tears began to stream down her face. Felix leaped from the bed and ran down to the kitchen. He filled a glass with water and charged back up the stairs two at a time, not caring that he was stark naked. He knelt next to the bed and held out the glass for her. She reluctantly let go of her neck and took the glass. Water sloshed up the sides as she moved it with trembling hands to her lips. “Do you need an ambulance?”
She shook her head. She drank slowly, taking small sips. Felix sat in silence watching her. Guilt raged through him, stomping around inside his head like an angry teenager. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I’m okay,” she croaked after all the water was gone. “Felix, I’m okay.” He looked into her eyes. They were still wide with fear, but earnest too.
“I’d better leave.”
“Stay,” she said. She winced and grabbed her neck again.
“No, I’d better not. The nightmares are getting worse. They’re every time I sleep now. I don’t want to hurt you again.” He stood and began gathering his clothes and getting dressed. She sat watching him, the duvet pulled up to her chest. She didn’t protest again. He scooped his gun and jacket from the floor together last and left the room without another word. He closed the door and leaned against it. Part of him wanted to go back and hold her, if she’d let him, but the part that needed to get out won over and he bounded down the stairs and out of the front door.
Fear, guilt, and rage pumped through his veins as Felix stalked through the night. He had blown it with Emma. Several times he felt the urge to go back and attempt to comfort her and make things right, but he couldn’t face looking at her and seeing terror in her eyes again. He had too much adrenaline in his system now. There was no way he could sleep. Without consciously deciding to do so, he made his way to the warehouse. He would check that Emma was okay in the morning, but it wasn’t safe to keep her in his life. As much as it made his chest ache, he couldn’t see her again.
He slipped inside the warehouse and went to his lookout post. His notebook was on his chair; he swept it away and it skidded across the dusty floor towards the window. Felix plonked himself down onto the thin cushion. The chair legs scraped across the floor, echoing dully around the cavernous warehouse.
Felix dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking. A cry rose up in his chest. He tried to stifle it but it burst from his lips. The sound reverberated in the deathly quiet of the night. He leapt to his feet, scooped up the chair and flung it over the railing. It clattered to the concrete floor below and one of the legs buckled. Hard, shaking breaths rushed through his lips and his hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He shook all over and he roared, not caring if anyone heard.
“Felix,” the silky voice in his head said. “It’s time to get to work.”
“No! I don’t want any of this. I want a normal, quiet life. I want my sister back. I want to sleep with my girlfriend and not wake up choking the life out of her!”
“You want peace.”
“Yes!”
“You can have it. You know what will ease this rage.”
Felix’s gaze fell on the dark holdall under the window. He walked over to it and crouched beside it. With a slow breath, Felix unzipped the bag and looked at the guns and ammunition stored inside. He hoisted out the rifle and ran his hands over the smooth metal.
The familiar clunk of the museum fire door opening drew him to his feet and he looked out of the window into the street. It was the Asian kid. On his own. Felix raised the rifle and nudged the window further open with the barrel. The kid stood there, his face flushed, taking deep breaths. Felix briefly wondered what was wrong, but his blood was pumping too hard for him to think clearly.
“That’s it. You know who to blame for your sister’s death. These vile creatures meddled with nature. They broke the world. You would have got to Julie in time if they hadn’t.”
Felix took a deep breath and took aim. The kid looked one way up the street, then the other, as if deciding which way to go. Felix was out of time. He pulled the trigger.
The kid crumpled to the ground; a dark stain appeared on his chest. He rolled onto his back and a cry rushed up out of his throat. It was a guttural, watery sound that didn’t sound quite human. Felix had never heard anything like it before. The kid started to shake all over, convulsing. His limbs seemed to be extending; his clothes and skin began to shimmer out of sight, replaced with thick, dark hair all over his body.
Werewolf.
“Damn.” Felix grabbed the bag of weapons and sprinted along the landing. He jumped onto the banister and slid down it. His feet landed with a painful slap on the concrete floor of the warehouse. He bolted out of the door into the narrow street and stared at the thing writhing on the ground. It was some sort of beast, covered in fur and with a vicious snout that looked like it could rip Felix’s arm clean off. It rolled over and up onto all fours. Its dark eyes fixed onto Felix. Saliva hung from its bared teeth and snarling issued with puffs of hot breath from its open mouth.
Felix drew the handgun from its holster and without hesitating, he took a shot right between the creature’s eyes. The silver bullet ripped from the gun and landed squarely on its target. A whimper escaped the thing’s mouth before it fell to the ground again. It lay still for a moment and then it slowly morphed back into the Asian kid. There was a fine, glittering ring around a dark hole in the middle of his forehead.
Felix felt a lu
mp in his throat.
A howl ripped through the cold, night air and Felix startled, looking quickly over his shoulder and back again. A light came on inside the museum and, without a backwards glance, Felix sprinted away.
Chapter Five
Ragged Edge woke with a start. He felt as though a limb had been ripped from his body. Pain coursed through his veins and sweat beaded on his brow.
“Doors!” His empathic connection to his youngest pack mate was gone. He swung his feet to the wooden floor and reached for his phone. It lit up and began to ring right there in his hand. It was Warden.
“What happened?”
“Get to the museum, now. Doors is down.”
“I felt it. I’ll be right there.”
Warden ended the call without another word. Ragged Edge leapt from his bed and dressed in a hurry. It was the middle of the night and Old Town was empty as he rushed to the museum. Fine drizzle started to fall, coating his coarse hair and beard in tiny droplets.
At the back of the museum, Warden paced the width of the narrow street and Two-Doors-Down lay dead on the ground.
“How did this happen?” Ragged Edge asked, looking down at the boy’s body. He crouched and examined the wound in his head. “Silver?”
“Silver. It looks like he was shot in the chest first, look.” Warden pointed at the blood stain on his shirt. “But he healed it before the second shot.”
Ragged Edge lifted the kid’s shirt and sure enough there was a partially-healed wound there. It was bright red, and dry blood crusted on his skin.
“He’d have had to take the Agrius form to heal that quickly.” He stood and looked up and down the street. “Are there police coming?”
Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3) Page 51