Fire Kin

by M. J. Scott

One of the men pointed toward the gate.

  Sure enough, I could see Guy’s blond head in the crowd of Templars near the gate, his face set as he barked a series of orders.

  The gate itself was twisted on its hinges, hanging open. Which was an effective nullification of the protection its iron and other metals offered from the Night World. But it wasn’t on fire, so that was something.

  When Guy’s stream of orders finished, he stood, hands on hips, and glared at the gate. One hand swiped smoky sweat from his face as he turned back to look at the nearest Templar.

  “Send for a metalmage,” he said sharply. “This needs to be repaired tonight. And where are the damned horses?”

  Horses? “Going somewhere?” I asked as I reached his side.

  He looked at me. “Lily says she can smell Beast Kind. We’re going to see if we can catch a wolf or two. Find out what they were hoping to achieve with this—” He gestured at the gate in frustration. “She went scouting ahead.”

  “What if that’s exactly what they want? To draw you out?”

  “Then they’ll be happy until they find out that Templars don’t play nicely with people who break their things,” Guy said.

  I shrugged, accepting this logic. “Can I come?”

  He grinned then, the expression somewhat feral in his smoke-smeared face. “Of course. I assume you had something to do with the fire dying out so quickly.”

  I shrugged again.

  “They wouldn’t have been expecting that. Let’s hope they think the spell or whatever they used to set it off was a bit of a misfire. It would be handy to keep your ability quiet a bit longer.”

  “Any Fae who was around before I was sent away will know that I’m good with fire,” I said.

  “I’m hoping there aren’t too many Fae talking to Ignatius,” Guy said.

  “Me too.” I studied the gate. “But two attacks using explosions in one day is a nasty coincidence.”

  The cross on the back of Guy’s hand flexed as he rubbed his jaw. “I thought so too.” He didn’t seem to like the idea much, but there was a clatter of hooves on the cobblestones before we could say anything further and a few of the novice knights arrived, leading strings of horses.

  “You mind riding a different horse?” Guy said. “We can send for yours. . . .”

  I shook my head. “Let’s not waste time. As long as these beasts of yours will carry someone not covered in chain mail.”

  Guy grinned. “It will be a nice change for them.” He jerked his chin at a big rangy bay. “Take Alfie over there. He’s well behaved. The novice will tell you some of the signals we use.” He turned and walked over to another of the novices who was wrestling to keep an enormous gray stallion—or so I assumed from his size—from tap-dancing on the cobbles. He settled when Guy reached for the reins, ears twitching as he let Guy mount. The huge horse and the massive knight were an intimidating sight.

  The Beast Kind might be in for a bad time.

  I smiled at the thought, listened to the novice’s quick explanation of how to make my horse rear or kick, and then swung into the saddle and took up position on Guy’s right-hand side.

  We didn’t wait long. A charm tied to Guy’s collar—one I hadn’t noticed before—flared into bright life.

  “Lily,” he said. “She’s found something.”

  He sent the gray forward and I followed his lead. We cantered through the deserted streets, which really shouldn’t have been so deserted. The City I remembered had bustled at all hours of the night, even in the quieter human boroughs. But now, it seemed, the sensible folks stayed home after sunset.

  And what exactly did that make me?

  Definitely not sensible.

  The horses ran easily, obviously used to the slippery cobblestones and the twisting streets. Alfie wasn’t quite so smooth and responsive to my hand as Aric, but he had power and speed and that was all I could ask for.

  Guy led the way down another narrow street—we were closing in on the border to the Night World now—and the tiny light at his collar flared brighter.

  Ahead, I thought I saw figures disappearing around a corner.

  I hoped they were our quarry.

  We picked up the pace. Guy sent half the patrol on an alternative route, to try to cut off their path. I wondered if we would cross the border if we reached it before we caught up with them, but it didn’t come to that. We turned another corner and suddenly found ourselves face-to-face with four giant, snarling wolves.

  Guy’s horse reared and struck with a shriek of equine fury, which was closely followed by the sound of a sword slicing through the air.

  I tightened my grip on the reins and drew the sword that the novice had hastily stuck in the sheath on the saddle. Guy was closing with one of the wolves, and the other three were snarling and twisting amongst us. I spotted the nearest one and swung as it bolted past.

  Missed.

  Fuck.

  The wolf snarled over its shoulder and I kicked Alfie into action and gave chase. The wolf flattened its ears and sped up, heading away from its pack mates toward the far end of the alley. Unfortunately for it, the rest of the patrol were blocking the exit.

  It turned so fast I would have sworn it had twisted in its own skin and headed back the way it had come. Straight for me.

  Shit.

  The wolf was half the size of my horse and its teeth were huge in the gaping mouth as it closed the distance between us. Two could play at that game, I decided, and spurred Alfie forward.

  A true Templar horse, he obeyed, and the wolf, realizing what was happening, suddenly crouched and sprang. I reined Alfie to the side and swung my sword.

  This time there was a satisfying meaty thunk as it connected and a yelping shrill snarl from the wolf. But it hit the ground and bounced back up, turning to face me, crouching to spring again.

  Hard to kill, Beast Kind. The sword in my hand was Templar steel, the ache of the iron making my arm feel heavy even though my hand was well protected by the leather wrapped around the hilt. It was a good weapon, but in this particular situation, my own sword, with its silver and Fae alloys, would be a lot more effective.

  The Beast sprang again and we did another round of twist and slash and parry, but this time the blow I landed was only a glancing one.

  The wolf had better aim. Alfie squealed as the claws raked his withers and I cursed the lack of my sword again. And then I remembered my pistol.

  Silver bullets and all. Maybe there was more skill and glory in sword fighting, but sometimes guns were better.

  I dropped the reins, praying that Alfie’s training was similar to Aric’s, tossed my sword into my left hand, and yanked the pistol out of its holster with my right. As the wolf turned for its next pass, I took aim and shot it through the back leg. It collapsed with a howl of agony, writhing on the cobbles as the silver, now lodged somewhere deep within its flesh, burned.

  After a glance around to see where the other wolves were—and they all seemed well occupied by the Templars—I climbed down off Alfie and clubbed the wolf over the head with the pommel of my sword. It went limp and I added a ward around it that would hopefully keep it still if it did regain consciousness sooner than was convenient. I assumed Guy wanted the Beasts alive for questioning rather than dead.

  The bullet wouldn’t kill the wolf, though he would have a hell of a limp for life if it wasn’t removed soon. It would take a larger wound or a hit to a more vital part of its anatomy for one bullet to kill, and I’d been trying to avoid doing just that.

  Lacking anything to tie it up with and aware that the others were still fighting behind me, I sprang back into the saddle and headed back toward the fray.

  One wolf lay on the cobbles with a sizable hole in its chest. There would be no questioning him. The huge furred chest was still, the yellowish eyes gone blank.

  The other two Beasts were surrounded by nine Templars. They paced a tight circle, snarling at the knights, but made no moves to try to break free.

&n
bsp; “This will be easier if you change,” Guy said. “Don’t make us hurt you.”

  The Beasts snarled again and exchanged glances that were far too intelligent for the beasts they resembled.

  I pushed my way into the circle of mounted knights surrounding the Beasts, pistol still in hand.

  “Silver bullets,” I said loudly. “Hurt like hell, I’m told. Want to find out?”

  One of the wolves looked up at me and howled.

  “I don’t think your friends are coming to help you,” Guy said. “Not on this side of the border now that the alarm has been raised. So it’s up to you. You can give in or you can do it the hard way.”

  “Of course,” said Patrick, one of the other Templars, “the hard way is sometimes fatal.”

  The wolf howled again but then he sat back on his haunches, sides heaving. His companion paced for a minute or so, then, with a final snarl, came to sit by his pack mate.

  “Change,” Guy ordered shortly.

  They did. It was a disturbing sight. I’d never actually seen a Beast Kind change form before, and the melting shifting shimmer of flesh and bone was unpleasant to say the least. For a moment I thought one of them was going to press his luck and stay in the hybrid man-wolf form that comes between human and beast and can be the most dangerous of all three, but he seemed to decide that discretion, if not the better part of valor, might at least equal keeping his head attached to his shoulders and completed the change.

  Naked in the moonlight, both covered with cuts and bruises, they were less defiant. They were both taller and broader than most human men. The taller of them would’ve had a good few inches in height on Guy, which was impressive. In human form, they had dark brown hair falling to their shoulders and dark eyes—brown, I thought, though it was hard to tell in the shifting yellow gaslight.

  “Hands on your heads,” Guy said, and as the Beasts obeyed, three of the Templars dismounted and approached with cuffs for ankles and wrists.

  “These aren’t silver,” Guy said as the Beasts watched warily. “But we have silver. You wouldn’t enjoy those, so be sensible lads.”

  They obeyed sullenly, submitting to the restraints. And then, brooking no chance, the knights knocked both of them out neatly with a well-practiced move.

  Well, sore heads would be better than no heads.

  “Take them back to the Brother House,” Guy said.

  “What about the dead one?” Patrick asked.

  “Him too. They don’t like not having the bodies to bury. It’s a bargaining chip if it comes to that.”

  Guy’s voice was flat. All business. This was the warrior, not the Templar wading through politics. He played the civilized man well, from what I had seen of him over the last few days, but apparently he had decided that it was time for the gloves to come off.

  “Should dump it at the border as a warning,” Patrick said.

  “It may come to that,” Guy said. “But let’s not rush into things. We want these three to cooperate. Tell us something useful.”

  “Get one of the Fae to make them talk, if they won’t,” Patrick retorted. He looked over at me. “You can do that, can’t you?”

  “A geas, you mean?” I nodded, hiding my distaste. “If I have to. There are other ways. Bryony would have something to loosen their tongues, I’m sure.”

  “She does,” Guy agreed. “So let’s not waste any more time.”

  “How do we get the wolf back to the Brother House?” I asked. The two in human form were easy enough; the knights were already hoisting them across saddles and lashing them into place.

  In answer, another of the knights patted his saddlebag, then flipped it open and drew out a massive net made out of something dark that didn’t resemble normal rope.

  He tied one end to the horn of his saddle and then walked his horse toward the unconscious wolf. He spread the net and then, with a grunt of effort, he and one of the other knights rolled the wolf into the net. The second knight fastened the free end to his own saddle and the horses moved obediently sideways until the wolf lifted off the ground.

  “Neat,” I said.

  Guy grinned. “Useful at times.”

  “Good horses.”

  “Yes. And yours needs attention.”

  I looked down at the gash on Alfie’s neck. The blood had slowed to a trickle, but the muscles around the wound quivered. I could heal it roughly, as I had done with Bryony’s arm, but I didn’t know much about working on animals and I didn’t want to risk doing something that might render him unfit for use in the future.

  I swung out of the saddle instead. “I’ll walk him back.”

  Guy shook his head, reached a hand down. “Not safe. You can ride behind me and we’ll lead Alfie. He’s a tough old thing.”

  I hoped he was right. I’d lost horses in my time, and each time it was a wrench. Fae-bred horses had longer lives than ordinary breeds but still only another ten years or so. Which made their lives fleeting compared to ours. Some Fae hardened their hearts and saw animals as merely useful tools . . . like plants or stone. Nothing to get attached to. But I’d never managed the trick of that and I grieved for each horse that was killed or grew too old for battle. I found good homes for them to live out their years when I could but it wasn’t what I wanted. So I hoped Alfie would be fine and that I hadn’t shortened his career with the Templars. Though really, maybe it would be better for him in the long run if I had. He could have a nice life in a field somewhere.

  As long as the Blood didn’t control all the fields.

  We reached the Brother House without further incident despite the prickling of the hairs on the back of my neck as we turned our back on the border and headed back toward the cathedral and the hospital.

  We moved at a steady pace, Guy and me bringing up the rear leading Alfie.

  I was still trying to work out what the point of tonight’s attempt was when we reached the gate.

  There were several Templars standing in the street, guarding the space left by the ruined gate. And there were several metalmages standing by the gate, studying it by the light of half a dozen torches and several more sunlamps. One of them was a young woman with dark hair that gleamed reddish under the sunlamps.

  At the sight of her, Guy swore and picked up the pace.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded as we stopped beside the gate.

  The woman smiled up at him. “My job.”

  “Has Master Aquinas lost his senses?”

  “Have you?” she snapped back. There was something about the set of her jaw as she spoke, the angle of the head, and the set of her shoulders as she stared up at Guy that made me think that this must be his sister, Saskia. The metalmage. The one involved with Fen.

  Apparently she was no one to be messed with.

  “It’s dangerous out.”

  She snorted and gestured toward Alfie. “And you’ve been out for a nice gentle ride around the neighborhood? We’ve had this conversation before, Guy. You do your job and I’ll do mine. Stop worrying.” She turned back to the gate and frowned. Then she reached toward one of the twisted bars and suddenly the metal began to glow and straighten.

  Impressive.

  Not many women had an affinity for iron, from what I knew of the metalmages. In Guy’s place, I wouldn’t be happy that my sister was one of them, but nor would I waste time arguing with someone clearly cut from the same cloth as he was.

  Still, I was no one to counsel anybody about family disagreements, so I contented myself with climbing down from Guy’s horse and leading Alfie off toward the stables, leaving the DuCaine siblings arguing in the background.

  “Almost home,” I muttered to the horse soothingly as he snorted a little whilst we walked.

  At the stable door, several of the novices and an older knight I hadn’t met suddenly appeared.

  The older knight looked at Alfie, then clucked his tongue. “Beast?” he said to me.

  I nodded. “I didn’t want to mess around with it after it stopped b
leeding.”

  “Good,” he said. Then he took the reins from me and led Alfie toward the stables, crooning under his breath as they walked.

  A man of few words, it seemed.

  And one who’d just left me with not much to do. I turned on my heel and almost stumbled over Rhian.

  “Boss,” she said. “Back in one piece, I see.”

  “For now. What’s been happening here?”

  “A lot of sound and fury.” She looked half-amused.

  “No follow-up attacks.”

  Her amused expression vanished. “No.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Me neither. You don’t do something like that unless you want to draw folks out or test their defenses. You’re all back in one piece, so I’m assuming they were testing the defenses.”

  “Bold move, attacking the Brother House directly.”

  “Yes. But if they could pull it off at a time when most of the knights were here, they would put a big hole in the humans’ defenses in one stroke. And if the knights weren’t here, then they’d get access to the hospital. And those other Blood. You think those are prizes they might want?”

  “I can see that Ignatius might be keen to kill the Blood who’ve taken the humans’ side,” I said. “I’m not sure about the hospital. It would be a loss, but there are other hospitals and the healers can work anywhere.” Healers used herbs and various potions, but they could do a lot of their healing without any of them. Particularly the Fae. I’d have to ask Bryony if there was anything I should know about the hospital or the people within its walls.

  Rhian nodded. “That’s what I thought. But still. I don’t like it either, boss.”

  “I know. So let’s keep sharp, eh? Are the men all settled?”

  “Yes. And the patrols and rosters have been sorted with the Templars before you ask. Charles has briefed the men who will take first patrol tomorrow.”

  I nodded, satisfied. I’d speak to the men myself as well, but the point of having lieutenants was to have other people you trusted to get things done. “Good. Then get some sleep, if you’ve got nothing else to do. The metalmages are repairing the gate, and the Templars have doubled their patrols.” It was also getting close to dawn, which meant the Blood weren’t likely to suddenly coalesce out of the darkness and mount a second attack tonight. Sunlight was lethal to them, and they’d be heading for their warrens, ready to sleep and do whatever else it was that the older ones who didn’t need to sleep through the day did when it was daylight.