Darkness Raging

by Yasmine Galenorn

  As Delilah and the others shuffled through the crowd, I tapped Nerissa on the shoulder. She turned around. She was carrying a tablet, her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a navy pantsuit and a pale blue blouse. My wife looked so official that I didn’t even think of kissing her. I wasn’t about to diminish her authority in any way by a show of her personal life, but I still reached out quickly to stroke her arm. She winked at me, then cleared her throat.

  “Glad you finally made it. Amanda and her group just got here, too, and they brought counterprotesters. Unfortunately, things have just blown up out there and I’m afraid that we’re not going to see the night through without a problem. I’ve called in leaders from all the various religious organizations and fraternal lodges around here to try to create a common front that can push the fanatics back into the woodwork.”

  Chase nodded. He waved his left hand, the stump of his little finger suddenly reminding me of how much this man had been through for our family. But the biggest change he had suffered couldn’t be seen on the surface. The biggest change was that Chase was no longer human. We had fed him the Nectar of Life to save his life and, barring accidents, he would live a long, long time. In the process, he had discovered that he had a distant ancestor who was an elf. Chase had met him, though we still didn’t know much about that story. Perhaps, one day, he would tell us.

  “Here’s the problem. We have the hate groups picketing—which they are allowed to do. We have the United Worlds Church countering them, which again—allowed. We have nearly two hundred Supes getting pretty damned agitated. Totally understandable. But somebody has to back down before this powder keg explodes.” He motioned for Frank to join us.

  Frank Willows was a farmer, and he was also head of the Supe Militia. A werewolf, he was a bit more alpha male than I cared for, but it was the tradition of his pack. He sauntered over, joined by Jonas Rigbee, the current alpha of the Blue Road Tribe werebears, and Marion Vespa, owner of the Supe-Urban Café and one of the coyote shifters.

  Frank was a sturdy man, not tall but definitely built. “We better take this down a notch. The meeting hasn’t even started, and we need something to defuse the mess, by the looks of how things are going.”

  “I have a suggestion.” Neely’s voice was neutral and calm, the perfect way to address an alpha Were. “You start your meeting. Our people will do our best to get between the building and the protestors. We won’t cause trouble, that’s not what we are about—we are a peaceful group who espouse nonviolent protest as the positive way to effect change.”

  Jonas nodded. “And we value your offer.” His voice was gruff, like you’d expect a bear to be, and he looked like a football quarterback. But he was wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a briefcase. “But what happens if they attack your people?”

  “We will defend ourselves but we will not lead an attack.” She turned to Amanda and Carlos. “Go talk to the group leaders. Ask them to spread out around the building and go into protection mode.” As the pair nodded and moved off, Neely frowned. “We organize in group units, and each unit has a leader. Much more functional than just a mass of scattered people.”

  Chase turned as the door opened and a handful of men and women entered. “Good—they’re here . . .” but as he spoke, a groundswell of noise came from outside. We all hurried to the front windows and cautiously opened a couple of them. The crowd had swelled to over a thousand, it looked like, and now we could hear a steady chant rising out of the masses.

  “Love not hate! Love not hate!”

  The chant gained strength as voice after voice joined in. Apparently, the other churches and organizations had taken to their phone trees, because the swell in crowd size was increasing, and now I was reading signs that directly countered the Earthborn Brethren and their thugs. For every sign reading GOD HATES FAES and DIE WERE DIE, there were at least ten countering it with HATE BREEDS HATE and SEATTLE STANDS FOR LOVE. As we watched in silence, overwhelmed by the outpouring of support, someone started singing “Get Together,” and the old Youngbloods’ anthem of the peace-and-love generation swelled into a massive sing-along.

  The Earthborn Brethren were being corralled into the center of the incoming protesters, and they were beginning to look nervous. The Freedom’s Angels bikers shuffled, glancing at our building, and then at the crowd around them.

  “I think now might be the time to show that we stand with the Seattleites who are standing with us.” Delilah glanced at Frank, who nodded to Jonas.

  The werebear cautiously opened the front doors wide and stepped outside, followed by a handful of the Supes. Neely joined him, slipping her arm through his. After a hastily whispered conference, one by one, the leaders of Seattle’s religious orders and lodges followed suit—each one joining together with a Supe and stepping out in front of the building. They joined the singing. My sisters and I followed, spreading out in a line.

  I asked Smoky to bring out a lectern and to aim the speakers toward the front of the building. Then I motioned to Camille. “We should say something. You’re good at public speaking—you do it. We need to thank everybody for their support.”

  She frowned but accepted a hand up to stand behind the lectern. As the singing started to die down, she tapped the microphone and cleared her throat. “As you may know—or not know—I am Camille D’Artigo and I’m from Otherworld. I’m half-Fae, as are my sisters—Delilah and Menolly.” She paused as scattered cheers went up. We did have a fan base around town.

  “We want to thank you all, on behalf of the Supe Community Council, for your support.” Then she turned to the protesters, who were effectively roped off by a human shield. “I’m here to tell those who wish us harm that you have no power here. The people of Seattle tell you, you have no power here. Seattle is a diverse and beautiful city, where hatred has no place. Members of this organization have been directly responsible for attacks on Seattle’s Supe Community for years, and most recently, they have destroyed a vampire apartment complex and killed over twenty-five vampires in doing so. I know that Vamp Rights has not yet passed legislation, but we consider it murder just as much as if they had killed a werewolf, or a human.”

  The crowd began to murmur, and unfriendly faces began to turn toward the hate group.

  Camille continued. “Every race, every gender, has good and bad members. No group is immune. That is what unites us—we are all individuals, and most of us are looking to coexist as peacefully as we can. Just because my neighbor prays to a different god than I do, just because my neighbor has different color skin, or because they love in a different manner, or because they turn into a wolf under the full moon . . . we can no longer allow these differences to divide us. Division brings hatred. Division brings death. I urge you now to peacefully resist allowing this sort of hate to continue in our city. And I do claim it as my city—I may be from Otherworld, but I have a business, I pay taxes, and I love this town!”

  A cheer went up, running through the crowd like a rippling wave.

  “Now, we cannot stop people from hating us, but we can make certain it doesn’t eat into our hearts. And we can bring into law protection for everyone, regardless of their origin. Protection from hate, protection from assault. Thank you.”

  As she stepped away from the microphone, the crowd began to clap. Chase took the lectern next. “I am asking the Earthborn Brethren and their followers to leave in peace. And to think twice before staging any more protests. We are watching your organization, and we will find those responsible for the attacks over the past few weeks.” He motioned for his men to spread into the crowd.

  Apparently, the opposition knew when they were outnumbered, because, with many a glare, they began to push their way out of the throng. The officers made sure that nobody started any scuffles, and by the time the Earthborn Brethren were gone, the meeting had turned into a makeshift meet-and-greet as the crowd dwindled to a few hundred.

  “I t
hink we’re going to have to shelve our meeting. For now, it would do the members of the Supe Community well to make nice-nice with their supporters and forge some common bonds.” I was surprised Roman hadn’t sent a contingent over, but right now, I figured it was for the best and I could find out why he hadn’t later.

  We joined the others, greeting those who had come out to support us, and an hour later, we headed back to our cars to go home. Nerissa was able to slip away. She would meet us at home. Chase had to stay and clear up some work, but he had already called Iris and told her he would be coming home very late.

  “Do you think any good came out of it?” I asked as a couple of officers drove us back to our cars.

  Delilah frowned. “I think so. For one thing, there’s nothing like a common enemy to unite strangers, and while the world as a whole has accepted the presence of Supes, we have reached that odd time when we’re trying to integrate into society instead of being the novelty act, you know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, and it’s one thing to admire and enjoy the circus, but when the freaks want to set up camp in your town for good, well . . . that can be a whole different ball of wax.”

  We had reached the parking lot where we had left our cars and were about to split up and drive home when Camille’s phone rang. She frowned at the Caller ID. “Trytian?”

  Oh, wonderful, I thought as she answered it. Just what we needed. Trytian was a daemon. Unlike demons, daemons were a bit more organized and got along better with everybody else, in general. They still weren’t trustworthy and they were dangerous and tended toward the evil side of life, but they could work with others a lot more easily. They were less chaotic, if I was forced to pinpoint the difference. Demons tended to act first, think later. Daemons were smarter. And Trytian’s father was leading a covert army, aimed at taking down Shadow Wing.

  Trytian was one of our frenemies. He made no bones about his designs on Camille, though he was cautious and kept himself at bay given the force he would face if he tried to do anything about it. But he was also cagey and knew enough to realize that keeping on our good side was better than getting on our bad side. We had a common enemy—Shadow Wing—and while our methods of going against him were different, we did have the united goal of destroying the Demon Lord.

  Camille shook her head as she finished the phone call. “We need to head over to Carter’s before we go home. Trytian asked us to meet him there in twenty minutes. Something is going down.”

  The fact that Carter and Trytian hung around together at all was unsettling. Carter was part demon, but he was also part Titan. His father was Hyperion, a major Titan, and Carter was head of the Demonica Vacana Society, working as a records keeper to keep watch over how the Demonkin interacted with humans.

  “I don’t know which is worse—the chaotic mess we just dealt with, or the prospect of having tea with Trytian.” Morio wrinkled his nose.

  “The former. Nothing got done, except—I guess—perhaps swinging a strong number of people in favor of enforcing Supe Rights and maybe instituting Vamp Rights. I guess it’s worth it if we managed to win over a few influential organizations to our side.” I shrugged. “Okay, Vanzir, Roz, hop in and let’s head over to Carter’s apartment.”

  * * *

  Carter lived in a basement apartment. The area was guarded by wards cast by a powerful witch to whom he paid a good deal to in order to ensure protection for himself and his guests, because it wasn’t one of the better areas in town. In fact, my Jag—which I missed terribly—had been keyed one night while we were visiting.

  The steps leading down to the door—which was below street level—were warded, but we had never had trouble with the magic. Apparently we were not considered a threat. I’d barely raised my hand to knock when the door opened. A tall, lithe woman whom I immediately pegged as some sort of Fae escorted us in. By her demeanor, it looked like Carter had a new girlfriend. He had been dating a dragon named Shimmer for a while, but that hadn’t worked out so well, apparently. We had helped him by rescuing her from a vampire that was out to get her employer—another vamp in the area. I hadn’t been sure if the pair had gotten back together or not but apparently, they had not.

  Carter was sitting at his desk. When he was in his apartment, he didn’t bother to cloak up, and so the slender red-haired demigod had horns spiraling from his head, curving back like some magnificent wildebeest. He was handsome and if it weren’t for the horns, he wouldn’t seem imposing at all. He wore a knee brace on one leg and tended to go for a more genteel look. Right now, he was in a burgundy smoking jacket and a pair of black trousers. But looks were deceiving. If he wanted to, Carter could easily take down everybody in the room.

  Trytian was on the sofa. Looking like a dangerously bent Keanu Reeves, he turned a glittering eye our way. Or rather, Camille’s way. Smoky noticed, too, and growled just enough to make Trytian flash him a snarky grin.

  “Don’t worry, draco-beast. I know the rules. But you can’t stop me from looking . . . and thinking.” He winked at Camille and she bristled, but Carter put a stop to things.

  “Down, dog. And Camille, ignore his churlish manners. Daemons are not cultured in proper behavior. Don’t let him bait you.” He crossed over to the living area from his desk, limping slightly. I was the only one in our family who knew how he had gotten that limp, and I had never mentioned it to the others—it was not my secret to tell. But I knew that it was connected to Trytian and Carter knowing each other, from long, long ago.

  Trytian arched an eyebrow. “Take away all my fun, old man.”

  “Gladly.” Carter didn’t even glance at him, but his eyes were steady on the packet of papers in front of him. “Please take a seat, and allow me to introduce Liu-an. She’s from Otherworld and she works for me, now.”

  The Fae who had opened the door gave us a quick curtsey. So, maybe not girlfriend. But then Carter tended to employ his paramours as servants, so who knew?

  We murmured hellos and Carter motioned to her, whispering in her ear as she passed by him.

  “We going to get this show on the road?” Trytian crossed his legs and leaned back against the sofa. He patted the seat next to him but Camille ignored him and took a chair as far away as she could get. Morio sat down next to him, though, giving him a long, feral smile, which made the daemon pull back just a little. I stifled a laugh.

  “Please, everyone be seated.” Carter waited till we were all sitting down to take his seat. He was truly a gentleman, but from our private conversations, I knew that he was as much into pain as a number of demons were, and he had once warned me that in private, he wore “the ringmaster’s hat,” as he had put it. Which had told me all I needed to know about his proclivities in the bedroom.

  Liu-an returned with a cart laden with drinks and sandwiches, cookies and tea. And, as always, a goblet of fine blood for me. I smiled graciously as she handed it to me with a discreet red napkin. As soon as we were all served—even Trytian—Carter began handing out our dossiers. I had a feeling he kept the office supply stores in business. Every time we came he was busy with reams of paper and file folders to no end. He loved his technology, but it was also obvious that he loved the smell of ink and the feel of paper.

  “We have a serious problem. But before we get into that, I need to know what the hell went on over in Otherworld. Whatever you did there has had massive ramifications through the demonic community.” Carter adjusted his tablet. “I’m going to record you so I don’t have to take notes.”

  We knew better than to counter him, so we started in on describing what had gone down. When we finished, both Trytian and Carter were staring at us, jaws slightly open.

  Trytian spoke first. “You actually convinced the Dragonkin to go to war with you?”

  Camille stared at him, hard. “Is that so unlikely? They owed me a debt, daemon. They offered me whatever I chose in repayment. I asked for their help.”

  Sm
oky let out another grumble. “Dragonkin may not always be the most congenial, but we do pay our debts without complaint.

  Carter cleared his throat. “No wonder the information Trytian brought me seemed extreme, but it makes sense now.” He turned off the recorder. “I will let Trytian tell you himself, and then we will discuss the ramifications.”

  Trytian gave Carter a pointed look. “Extreme? Perhaps. Unlikely? Not at all, given Shadow Wing.” He turned toward us, suddenly all business. “My father has spies hidden in the Demon Lord’s network. It seems that yesterday, news filtered down to the Subterranean Realms that Telazhar had been killed, and the Otherworld infiltrations were brought to a grinding halt. The messenger also said that, and I quote, ‘those three Fae whores stole your spirit seal, Liege.’ Needless to say, as soon as Shadow Wing finished grilling him, said messenger was immediately dragged away for torture.”

  Down in the Sub-Realms, “please don’t kill the messenger” was more than a cliché.

  “No surprise that Shadow Wing knows it was our doing.” Camille set down her tea. “Did he have anything to say about the dragons?”

  “Funnily enough, the Demon Lord conveniently ignored the whole dragon angle. Probably because if he didn’t, he’d have to include them in his plans for revenge, and I doubt that even Shadow Wing is stupid enough to charge on the Dragon Reaches. Much easier to focus one’s rage on targets that are accessible and vulnerable.” Trytian shrugged. “According to our source—and he’s reliable, so I believe this—the faux Keraastar Knights he’s been attempting to create? Aren’t working out quite like he hoped. But he’s still plotting something with them.”

  I blinked. “Neither aspect of that sentence bodes well.” Trytian gave me a what-do-you-want look. “What can I say? We all know he’s unhinged. The Unraveller is pretty much a basket case at this point. He’s been tearing through his own armies, killing anybody he thinks might be against him. He’s losing it.”