by Riley Storm
A huge cluster of trees on the outside of the wall for nearly seventy feet stood simply incinerated. They still smoked. Getting closer, she put up a hand, stunned by the heat coming off them. It was so intense, she had to stop twenty feet short of the closest tree.
Movement caught her eye, and she instinctively went for her gun, suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable out here in the middle of nowhere. Focusing on the source though, she realized it wasn’t a person, but the tree. It was…
“Holy shit.” It wasn’t movement she’d seen, but flames. Flames from inside the tree. They were burning up from the inside out.
The ground below the trees was all wet. Even the heat from the burning had only been enough to melt the snow, not dry it out. Inspecting the area nearby, her eyes picked out all sorts of tracks.
None of them made any damn sense, of course, unless a herd of various farm animals had gone through the area. She could see hooves of various sorts, other marks that looked like they belonged to predators, and even a few human boot tracks.
“What in the world,” she muttered, looking around, trying to piece it all together.
Over and over again, her eyes kept moving back to the wall.
“Dispatch, what’s on the other side of this wall?” she asked, radioing in. “Who owns this property?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that one, darling,” Sherry said. “It’s not listed.”
Not listed? Odder and odder. Something was definitely off about the whole scene. Moving a way down the wall from the trees, she reached out and held her hand an inch from the stone. No heat radiated off it, and so a second later, she touched it. It was cold.
The top of the wall had to be ten feet high, but Rachel wasn’t about to let that stop her. Twenty minutes of work later, she had a pile of snow pushed up against the wall, packed down enough that it would hopefully support her.
A quick scramble up, a wet sock as her boot sank in low at one point, and a grunt of effort later—and she was on top of the wall.
Almost immediately, her senses began to scream at her, telling her to duck and get under cover.
She wasn’t alone.
Slipping as quietly as possible from the top of the wall, she fell into a snow bank that had piled up against the inside. The snow rose to her hips, and she crouched into it, hiding her as much as she could. The radio at her side cracked, and she frantically shut it off, trying not to betray her position.
Someone, or something, was out there, somewhere in the trees that started perhaps thirty feet or so from the wall. Cautiously looking left and right, she noticed that no tree, no bush, came close to the wall.
There was a deliberate space between the two. That wasn’t good. It meant whoever lived here was paranoid about their security. They wanted to be able to see anyone coming over the wall, while they hunched down in the cover of the forest.
Her eyes were trying to tell her something, and so she let her gaze wander away from the tree line to the ground around her. In here it was also covered with tracks, much of the snow flattened underneath. Here and there, the snow was melted or discolored. Purple? It definitely wasn’t blood. Not that she’d ever seen.
The cold was starting to get to her while she squatted in the snowbank. Rachel couldn’t stick around for much longer. As stealthily as possible, she stole forward across the compact ground, hand on her gun, ready to draw. Her sense didn’t calm once she was among actual cover. Whoever it was, they were nearby. Very, very close.
Closing her eyes, she listened carefully, trying to pick up the slightest sound. Filtering out the beating of her heart and the air from her lungs as it condensed in front of her in the cold, she reached for more. A crunch of snow, a snap of a twig. Anything.
There.
Her eyes opened, darting to her two-o’clock. Whatever, or whoever it was, it was over there. In the midst of shadows. She stared into the deepest part of it. Even in the daytime, the evergreens were thick overhead, providing plenty of darkness. The longer she stared, the more Rachel became convinced that whoever was in there stared right back at her.
On a hunch, she slowly brought her hand in front of her, then raised the middle finger on it. Perhaps she could get them to reveal themselves.
“Well that’s not very nice.”
Rachel yelped and dove to the side, gun sliding free from her holster as she rolled, fetching up hard against a nearby tree.
“Plymouth Falls Police Department!” she shouted, drawing a bead on the voice that had come from her right side without any notice. It most definitely was not in the shadows in front of her.
A giant figure detached itself from the tree and stood overtop of her, staring down the barrel of her pistol.
3
“Yes, I gather that,” the titan rumbled, his voice deep enough to vibrate her chest. “The gun is a bit of a giveaway. As is the obviously official vehicle you pulled up in.”
“You’ve been watching me?” she snapped, the weapon not wavering even as she lay uncomfortably on her side, her back throbbing from where she’d hit it against the tree.
“You’re on my property,” he said calmly, seemingly uncaring about the weapon pointed directly at his chest. “I think that’s fair, don’t you?”
She kept an eye on him, her eyes darting around, trying to figure out how many others were there. Who was this guy? Why didn’t he care that she was law enforcement?
“We’re quite alone, don’t worry,” he said, slowing squatting down on his heels, looking her in the eye. “And I’m not going to hurt you. You can put that silly toy away.”
The twin grips of what she could only surmise were swords sticking over the left shoulder of the massive stranger stopped her. “You say my gun is a toy, and yet you walk around with swords strapped to your back?” she spat sarcastically. “I think you have it a bit backward. Speaking of which, step back. Slowly.”
Thick eyebrows the color of stained wood pulled together dangerously. “Need I remind you, officer, that you are trespassing on my property, without a warrant or reasonable cause.” His voice grew calmer, and somehow more dangerous all at once. “I suggest you cease the intimation of violence, and pull yourself together. I’m not going to harm you.”
“Right. So you were just what…wandering these woods looking for Robin of Loxley?”
The man frowned. “Who?”
Rachel sighed. “Never mind. Just back up, okay? You say you’re no threat, but I have no way of knowing that.”
Spreading his hands peacefully to show they were empty, the muscled mass of maleness rose to his feet and took five equally large steps away from her. He moved with an ease and surety to his step that spoke of an extreme body awareness. She knew, because she’d spent years training to achieve the same fluidity of movement, though she doubted she could move like him. Not even with another decade of practice. Although everything about him told her he was dangerous, she felt oddly at peace around him. Safe, even.
That was a dangerous feeling, and as Rachel got to her feet, she kept her gun trained on him.
“Who are you?”
“I live here. Who are you?” he replied calmly.
“Detective with Plymouth Falls Police Department.”
“Yes, yes, I know that,” the man said while she stared up at him. Way up. “I know that. Why are you here? Why are you on my property?”
“I’m investigating the fire.”
“Of course. But why are you on my property?” he repeated. “The fire is on the other side, in case you didn’t notice. You have no right to be here.”
“I needed to be sure there was both no fire over here, since it goes right up to the wall, and that nobody was in danger.” She had to keep fighting the urge to put her gun away. Her senses told her this man was anything but a threat to her, and it was growing harder to remain suspicious of him the longer she was in his presence.
“Right. Well, no fire, nobody in danger. You can go now.” Gray eyes darted toward the wall, indicati
ng she should climb back over it.
“I have a few questions first.”
The man laughed. “Sorry, Detective, but it’s time you went. You’re trespassing.”
It irked her, but he was right. A quick peek over the wall should have been enough. Instead she’d not only climbed the wall, but pulled her gun on him.
“Fine,” she growled, backing away from him toward the wall.
He followed her until the edge of the tree line, where he waited, watching. She moved down to where she’d come over, then slowly began to pile snow together, doing her best to keep a watchful eye on him at the same time. It was slow going, and her irritation grew as the landowner watched her while leaning casually against a tree.
“Would you like some help?” he called after ten minutes or so had passed. “I have places to be.”
She snapped something unintelligible and worked harder.
“Allow me to assist you.”
“What the!” she shouted, jumping back.
He was standing nearby.
“How did you get so close?”
“I walked?” he asked, looking behind him, as if the answer was obvious.
Rachel bit her lip. “You move quietly.”
“I should certainly hope so. I’ve practiced it a lot. Now, if you don’t mind.” He squatted down next to the wall, hands out in front of him, fingers locked together.
“What?”
“Put your foot here,” he said, shaking his hands. “I’ll boost you.”
She frowned at him. “Right, of course.” Not entirely sure why she was trusting him, yet somehow feeling that it was okay, she put her foot into his hands and stepped up.
The wall suddenly blurred by as he assisted her, not to the top of the wall, but up and over it. Rachel shrieked as she missed the ledge, flopped over the far side and landed butt-first in the pile of snow she’d assembled.
“Pleasure meeting you, Detective,” the voice called back.
Grumbling, she extricated herself from the snow bank. “Do you know what happened here?” she called, desperately trying to get more information.
“Something struck the trees.”
She grit her teeth. He was trying to play the country yokel, but Rachel had seen the intelligence burning in his eyes. The huge man knew exactly what had happened, but wasn’t telling her.
“I’ll be back with a warrant!”
“We both know you won’t, Detective. This isn’t something for you to involve yourself in. My House will solve it, not you humans. Farewell.”
“You humans?” she repeated to herself, looking at the wall, picturing the man on the other side. “What the hell?”
Brushing off the snow, she headed back for her car, belatedly turning her radio back on.
“I’m fine,” she said, responding to Sherry’s frantic calls. “Had to go silent there, sorry. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”
She got to her car and turned the heater on full blast, trying to puzzle out just what had happened to her back there. Glancing over at the wall, she blinked in surprise. The stranger was crouched on the top of it, looking back at her.
No, he was no country hick. The swords and his manner of talk were stranger, but whatever was going on here, he knew exactly what it was.
Rachel bounced her fist off the dash in frustration. She hated being left in the dark. The worst part of it was, there was no issue that really needed police intervention, which meant she was going to be forced to forget it and move on. That was what really irked her.
With a false smile and a wave, she put her car into gear and turned it back around toward Plymouth Falls. She had a long drive ahead of her.
In the rear view, the strange man stayed perched on the wall long after she’d gone. Watching.
4
Khove was in the practice gym lifting weights when the summons came.
“Me?” he asked, setting the loaded weight bar back on the rack. The specially-forged steel weights didn’t budge, even as he deposited over 500 pounds back onto it. “But I haven’t even finished warming up.”
“Quit your grumbling,” Knox said with a chuckle. “We both know she wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”
That was true. “Any idea what it’s about?”
“None,” Knox admitted, sounding helpless. “Sorry, boss.”
“Don’t be.” Khove sat up from the bench press and grabbed a towel, wiping off the perspiration that had accumulated. “I guess I should put a shirt on too.”
“Why bother trying to become polite this late in life?”
Khove fired the sweaty towel at his subordinate and friend, who easily blocked it. “Fuck you.”
But he didn’t delay. It was his day off, and the Queen wouldn’t have summoned him if she didn’t have to. She was very good about not disturbing them on their days off, cognizant of how much better they performed when allowed to truly recharge.
Pulling his standard black t-shirt on, he followed Knox out of the practice gym and through the maze of hallways toward her private meeting chambers. Ursidae Manor was a giant warren of corridors, tunnels, secret passages and more rooms than could easily be counted. Built in at least five different styles as it was expanded over the centuries, it was a unique hodgepodge of architectural style that somehow blended together seamlessly.
As they stepped out of a hidden passage that also acted as a shortcut, he nearly bumped into Kvoss the Assassin.
“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping to the side, letting the Title Holder pass.
Kvoss nodded politely in acceptance and kept walking.
“I thought they hated each other,” Knox said quietly once the Assassin had rounded the corner.
“They do. Did. I don’t know,” he said softly. “They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, haven’t they?”
The pair fell silent. Neither of them was mated. The Queen’s mate, the former King and ruler of House Ursa, had been killed in an uprising nearly six months earlier. Khove didn’t know much about the Assassin’s mate and what happened to her, but he did know the man was alone.
“Could they be…?”
He looked at Knox, then the two of them shook their heads at once. “Naahh.”
Putting the Assassin behind him, he entered the Queen’s chambers, taking a right into her meeting room. Immediately, he knew whatever it was, it was serious. The Queen and several others sat at a table, deep in thought.
“My Queen,” he said, doing his best to sound calm and ready for anything. “You called?”
“There’s a problem, Khove,” she said, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table.
That was unusual. He was her bodyguard, and, he hoped, her friend. Khove was most certainly not a Title Holder. He wasn’t even an advisor. Still, a command was a command, and with only the barest of hesitation, he slid into the indicated chair.
“What can I do to help?”
“We’re under attack.”
He sat up straight, ready to tell Knox to summon the rest of the Queen’s Own while he got her to safety, but a calming hand from his liege stopped him.
“Not the Manor, Khove. But our holdings.”
Confused, he frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Someone is attacking our holdings in Plymouth Falls,” the Reaver said, speaking at last.
Khove turned his attention to the man in charge of Ursidae’s business holdings. He often stayed out of the spotlight. He wasn’t a fighter. His prowess was numbers. Money. He made more of it.
“You think it’s Korred,” Khove said, feeling the need to wash his mouth after speaking the Traitor’s name.
“Yes,” the Queen said calmly. “We have reports of at least four locations under attack tonight already.”
Khove looked around in surprise. “Well, what are we waiting for then? Have response teams been deployed? Let’s go get the sonofabitch before he brings our entire empire down.”
The Reaver barked with caustic laughter. Khove
glared, never a major fan of the man. He cared too much for his money, and not enough about what he was. A holdover from before the uprising, Khove knew he was on his way out, and soon, once the Queen found a suitable replacement.
“What?” he snarled.
“It takes more than burning four buildings to harm us.”
Khove struggled to contain his anger, bristling at the rude dismissal of his claim. He bit back a sarcastic retort, instead turning his attention to the Queen. His ruler. “He can’t be using magic, can he?”
“We don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s probably safe to assume he’s tapped into local criminal activity for help, such as it is in Plymouth Falls.”
“And what are we doing about it? We can’t just let this happen.” Khove was lost. Why was he even being invited to discuss this situation? It had nothing to do with him.
“No, you’re right of course, we can’t,” the Queen agreed. “Nor can we just go around murdering criminals. Human criminals.”
Khove’s lips flattened into a line. Of course, she was right. They had to obey the rules, the human rules, on this one, which meant they needed help from law enforcement.
“I have an idea,” he said, mouth moving before his brain had even finished its thought.
His Queen looked at him expectantly. “You do?”
“I know someone who can help,” he explained, his mind drawn back to the lovely young detective that had been snooping around the wall earlier, investigating the gift Korred had left them. “With the human element of it. Properly,” he stressed, looking around the table.
“There isn’t much in the way of help I can spare,” Kaelyn said quietly, dropping her regal persona for a moment. “We need our strength here at the Manor, to prepare for the next attack. You’ll be mostly on your own.”
Khove smiled. “I don’t need much help. It’s just some human scum that need rounding up before they burn down more of our buildings.” He paused. “Isn’t it?”
“As far as we can tell,” she said quietly. “But we don’t know for certain. The reports are still fresh. Ongoing, even. We have no idea what you might be walking into out there. Korred could easily come after you.”