Represented the green magic of the witches, the purple of the warlocks.
Yeah, whatever.
We had a welcoming party waiting by the door next to the stairs, also painted in the two colors, ready to fight. Two men and three women were standing together, along with a guy spread out on the floor, completely knocked out. A couple of the three witches were chanting some spell.
“Yield now,” Xavier said, “or be put to the slaughter.”
“Never!” a warlock barked.
Melody moved, slicing one of the chanting witch’s throat open before anyone could react. The woman clutched her neck, blood leaking through her fingers. She fell down, her witch friends falling to help her.
Holy shit!
“Last warning,” Xavier said.
“Murderer!” a witch howled as the cut one died.
She sent a bolt of green magic at Mel. The elf batted it away with her weapon. It struck the wall uselessly.
Whoa. Cool move.
“You can’t barge into our sacred place and kill us!” a warlock howled.
“You attempted to kill us outside with the help of that elf,” Xavier countered.
“He was one of your own!”
“I am not averse to killing traitors. And we’ll be hunting others who think they can betray us and help the mazoku. No matter what, no elf aids the demons. We fight the wolves in different ways.”
Shit. Couldn’t think about that statement right now.
“No more death,” Xavier said, “if you comply. I will even forget that one of your kind had a hand in helping Mama Rita burn that pixie hollow. They deserve their own vengeance. I am sure it is coming. I’ll let them have it.”
Whoa. He was such a boss!
“You—”
“Comply or die. It’s that simple. I need to heal my friend, and we’re just passing through.”
The warlock took a pretty brave step forward. Xavier was a scary bastard. “You killed our friend. You call that just passing through?”
“Him on the floor.” Xavier pointed at the knocked-out guy. “Is that the one who was controlling the thorns?”
The warlock looked down, then back up, completely incensed. “What of it?”
“He can live if you comply. I should kill him, all of you, for harboring a terrorist. For possibly being terrorists yourselves. But I’m reasonable.”
One of the witches stood up. “You’re not a wolf. How dare you throw your weight around? So what if he was an elf? He helped us. He was on the right side. We’ll never bow to you or anyone other than ourselves. The world is changing. You all saw what happened.” Her eyes fell on me then. “Wait. You! You’re him! You’re the son of the High Alpha. We have the High Alpha’s son. You’re all fu—”
Melody killed her, and a magic attack launched at us.
I ducked, Xavier moved, deflecting purple and green energy, and then I beheaded the two warlocks with my blades, quickly taking the opportunity that’d presented itself.
The witches were dead too. A commotion came from behind the door.
“Okay.” Xavier put Phi down. “This won’t take long.”
Another thing came out of his pocket. A stubby pencil. I’d seen some dicks that size in my years of dating. Funny one of them had belonged to a warlock I’d met in a bar. Not the best shag I’d ever had.
The pencil transformed into a gun as the door flew open, and as more warlocks and witches came down the stairs. Every single enemy had a silver laser pointed at them suddenly, aimed at their hearts.
Xavier pulled the trigger, and the lasers did their thing, burning holes in chests. Everyone fell down dead.
“I did warn them,” the elf said. “Now, let’s see if we can find a manager or something.”
“Unless they’re already dead,” Mel added.
“Yes.”
* * *
Turns out, there was a kind of manager of this supposedly sacred place. His name was Sean, and he was a douche. But he listened—after three more warlocks had to suffer the laser.
Beyond the entrance hall, there were a series of apartments—all carved from the same marble, suspended on marble walkways that went deep down and high up in a spiral. Now and again were social spaces and even restaurants and bars.
Kind of reminded me of the pixie hollow in terms of the walkways, only done in a much showier style.
Sean had left us in a room to help Phi, then he said we could take the lift down to the dream witch when he returned. Not happily, and with an eye that told me he’d be coming for revenge one day.
Yeah, get in line.
Xavier had added some chewing gum to Phi’s wound, which spread and turned silver, acting as a sealing and healing poultice. She was sleeping.
She’d be okay.
“Those are some pockets you’ve got,” I said, sitting on a green armchair.
“I came prepared.”
“What was that light thing you used on the mazoku?”
“Something I was hoping to use on the way out.”
“Didn’t you bring another?”
“No. Having two in my pocket would’ve blown me up.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry your head about it, sunshine. Just go with it. The same as that coin—I know you want to know. It helped me suck out the poisonous elf traitor.”
I nodded. “So, do you think elves have been helping Mama Rita too?”
“Yes, Akira.”
“Shit.”
“I know. We have a common enemy here—us and the wolves. The mazoku and those who wish to help them.”
“Like these dickheads living down here.”
He nodded. “There are elves providing silver to terrorists, and The Chief has ordered us to whittle them out. Yet, there is no true unity between elf and wolf—present company excluded. It is too late for that now, after everything. I know you think we’re all ridiculous, but this is the way of things.”
I couldn’t be bothered to sit and argue with him about this stuff. It’d piss me off too much. All of it was ridiculous. If they wanted to find these wanker elves and stuff, why not just join forces? But I wasn’t an elf. And I knew the werewolves wouldn’t go for anything but top governance. There was only one dominant race in this world, and it was furry.
“She’s really gonna be okay?” I changed the subject.
Xavier, who had Phi’s head in his lap, stroked her hair. “Yes. I promise. A shame we lost the arm.”
“Got nothing to grow it back?”
“No. I will try when we get home, though.”
Elf magic made my head hurt. Actually, all magic did.
“Are you okay, sunshine?”
“I’m fine.”
“Seeing Mama Rita and your brother like that must be hard to process, no matter how many times you see it.”
“It?”
“I don’t know what else to call that creature. A mazoku abomination?”
“Guess that works. Yeah, it’s fucked up. But I’m okay.”
“She’ll never stop hunting you.”
“She now?”
“Yes, we’ll go with she seeing as she wants to be the mazoku queen, and poor Zach has no choice but to be dragged along.”
“Yeah. She won’t stop. But she’s got bigger stuff to do, too. Like, be queen.”
“Maybe killing you seals the deal.”
“I hadn’t thought of that!”
He shrugged. “I like to ponder these things.”
The door opened. Sean, his dark hair damp, his pale complexion flushing red. He had a bandage on his nose. “Time to move now.”
“Fine,” Xavier replied. “Lead the way.”
He waited outside the door.
It was fucked up what’d gone down in this place. We’d slaughtered them, and they’d strike back. I was sure of that. I mean, I would. Had to hope Xavier’s magic laser gun held out while we were down here. He said it would, but life sometimes liked to give you a good old shafting when you least expected i
t.
* * *
After a silent descent riding the lift, we arrived at a small cavern. Not purple, not green, but black marble flecked with silver. A swirling silver popped up with a click. Okay, then. At least, it looked like a portal.
Just me and Xavier. Mel and Phi were still upstairs.
Me and Xavier exited the lift car, but not Sean. “This is forbidden.” He backed up until he could back up no more. “I leave you here. You are free to use the lift to leave, but I don’t want to talk to you again. Get out of here when you’re done.” He slammed the lift doors shut and was gone.
“Here we are then,” Xavier said. “I can’t go in there.
“Wait? What?”
“I don’t seek her out, sunshine. You do.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means what I said.”
“Cryptic much?”
“No. You want to see her, not me. That’s the rules. Pass through whenever you’re ready to talk to her.”
“As easy as that?”
“Yes, sunshine.”
“See you in a bit, then.”
“You will. Good luck.”
So, I passed through the swirling silver, walking until I came to a dark, cool space. I called up my babies, but they couldn’t see anything. The only thing all three us could pick up was a smoky smell. It was proper rank.
“You seek me.”
I jumped. “Erm, yeah. Hello?”
Click! I was somewhere else, warm but still smelling of smoke. The room was lit by lamps dotted around the room, their shades dusty. There was a lilac armchair, a writer’s bureau, a bookshelf, and a small table with a smoldering cigar sitting in an ashtray.
“Hello?”
One minute she wasn’t there, then she was. Bing! A hunched old elf, her hair long and scraggly and gray, her elf mark on her pointed nose. She wore a silver dressing gown, silver moccasin slippers, and green socks. Her hands were gnarled, arthritic, but she still managed to clutch a tumbler of brown liquid in her left hand.
“Welcome to my home.” She sat down in the armchair. “My name is Zenya. The dream witch you seek.”
“That’s right. Nice to meet you.”
“Hmmm.” She sipped her drink, then picked up the cigar for a puff.
Bob and Rose were still out, standing beside me. They chuffed at the stench and disappeared.
“I haven’t had a visitor here for many, many years. I’m talking long, dull years. Thank goodness I have a well-stocked supply of brandy.”
“Good for what ails ya.”
“Indeed. Your name?”
“Akira Murakami.”
She downed the rest of her brandy and let out a satisfied ‘aahhh.’ “The son of the High Alpha.”
“Er, yeah.”
“As handsome as him.”
“Thanks.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I need to figure out my dreams.”
Her glass refilled itself. Right. “Go on.”
“So, yeah. I keep having the same dream every time I’m asleep. Can’t make no sense of them. Someone in there is talking about the moon, four moons actually, and there’s a mountain that keeps changing, plus pink petals and snow.”
She nodded. “A prophetic dream.”
“I guess.”
“It sounds that way.”
Zenya gulped back her second brandy—from my time with her anyway—and let out another satisfied ‘aaahhh.’ “There is apple pie at your feet.”
Yep. There was a slice right by my trainers. It was sitting on a white plate painted with pink daisies, and there was a fork with it too.
“Eat it,” the dream witch said. “Just one bite will do it.”
I crouched and scooped it up, cutting myself a piece with the fork. “Okay.”
Guess I had to just go with it.
The pie tasted pretty shite. No flavor, pastry dry. Was that bacon I could taste? Gross!
As soon as I swallowed my bite, I was inside my dream. Zenya was there too, sitting in her armchair.
“Wow. We’re in my head.”
“Your dream.”
“Ain’t that the same thing?”
“No.”
That told me.
“What pretty cherry blossom,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
The dream went on as it normally did, and Zenya made a clicking noise with her tongue before speaking. “The shadows of denial will leave.” Click. “Begone from this place. You have no power.” Click. “Begone.” Click. “Begone!”
The entire scene swirled like I was tripping on mushrooms, then righted itself. When it did, there was a woman standing there in a white floral dress perfect for a summer’s day. But her face was blurred out completely. Proper distorted, her skin olive. I could make out she had dark hair that was blowing about her shoulders. Plus, what could only be her mouth, was moving.
“What’s happening?”
“One moment, Akira,” Zenya said. “Ah. Here we are. Now listen to me.” The dream witch cleared her throat. “The moon is cursed, tainted with the doom of the werewolves. Mama Rita used the ritual to slay the seven wolves to awaken power—power to force the moon to stay up, power to enslave the mazoku. There was only one more move she had to make—she needed to apply her curse. So, she gave her elven energy, and that of her son, to your blades, sending them to the moon to bring about her final curse.”
Oh, fuck!
“Four moons you will know as the world turns. The fourth moon will be silver, and thus, the beginning of the end will come for the wolf. The moon is cursed. The wolves must be saved. Balance cannot be undone, for the shadows will consume the world should wolf meet utter destruction. The mazoku have been blocking these words, their shadows in everything, wanting to rise high with a new queen. Your light burns bright through your darkness but first will come the trial of Mount Tate. Find the master of blades to claim what is yours, to travel to the truth. This is your journey to make, Akira Murakami.”
Boom went the brain. “Come again?”
“That’s what she says,” Zenya replied. “She’s saying it again.”
“How come you can hear her?”
She smiled. “Did you forget I am a dream witch, Akira?” She titled her head at the mystery woman. “Interesting times.”
“But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know, but all fingers are pointing at you.”
Ugh. Did they have to?
“You will need to journey to your homeland of Japan.”
“How?”
“Surely you’ve heard of airplanes?”
I stopped myself from giving her a death stare. “Not what I meant.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know how the mechanics of your brain works. In the days past, when I walked the earth’s surface, I encountered much stupidity.”
Rude! “Right. Anyway, what I meant was, how am I gonna get out of London with everyone looking for me?”
“As the words of this dream indicate, this is your journey to make.”
“Shit.”
She clicked her fingers, and the dream fell away, returning everything back to her hideout. Zenya shuffled over to her bureau. “Don’t fear, there are still further things to glean.”
“Like Ryoka Takeda. The sword guy. He’d made my katanas…the ones I’d lost to the moon.”
“Yes. And the mountain. You must undertake some form of a trial at Mount Tate.”
Mount Tate (Tateyama) was one of The Three Holy Mountains of Japan (Sanreizan)—made up of Mount Fuji, Mount Haku, and Mount Tate. Even though the old beliefs had gone when the truth of the tenshi became known, they were still revered as holy spots, even if they’d become dangerous areas after the almost-apocalypse.
A trial there? Why? “Any idea what the hell this means?”
“Not at all. Anyway, this is—"
“I know. My journey.”
“Precisely. This Ryoka Takeda is who you will need to seek first. He’s
the key.”
“I’ve no clue where the geezer is.”
“Your father will know.”
“Yeah, ‘cos he loves sharing info with me.”
She turned her head then, looking past me.
“What’s wrong?”
She held up a gnarled hand to hush me, then turned and headed to the bookshelf.
“What?” I asked again.
Zenya removed a huge, battered book bound in red leather, opening it to reveal a hollowed-out inside. “I have always wondered when I would use these. An afternoon spent crafting them, never knowing why.” She removed what looked like a necklace from the book, and turned to face me, her silver eyes sparkling with what I could only describe as being in on the joke.
Damn.
“It seems we were always destined to meet, Akira Murakami.”
“What do you mean?”
She shuffled over to me. “Take these.”
It was two necklaces of brown rope, a dreamcatcher dangling on the end. It looked like a black and white spider web with tiny red beads woven into the web. A black and white feather was fixed to each of them.
“Wear this, along with your companion.”
“My companion?”
“There is only one.”
She meant G.
“Before you leave these shores, put them on. Do not take them off once they’re around your necks. She wanted me to tell you that. They are protection.”
I took them off her. “From what?”
“Have you not got the gist of this yet?”
You couldn’t blame a lad for trying. “What do you know?”
“Nothing, only the words I have shared with you, and they are falling like sand through my fingers. I am merely an instrument of aid, risen for one more glory, ready to fade back into the darkness.”
My head was spinning. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“Because this is your journey now.” She shuffled closer and placed a hand on my forearm.
All the info slapping me upside the head. “The wolves are screwed. My people…”
My people. I always distanced myself, pushed against being pack because I hadn’t been welcomed into it. I’d denied my wolf half in a way because it tied me to my dad. But I was a wolf, even if I was super different from the others. Not a runt, not a waste of space who used to have fancy swords. Something more.
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