by Jamie Davis
Miranda laughed as she floated past Taylor. “Your phone is so old it won’t even update anymore, so what do you care?”
Clark didn’t answer, though he glanced down at the phone cupped in his hand.
Quinn asked, “In the old days, how did Hunters find out when there was trouble?”
“We had patrols out and around the city, and our Hunter mages set wards for particularly dangerous things or powerful magics. It worked pretty well most of the time.”
Taylor offered a wry chuckle. “Until it failed to pick up the purges in time to stop them, you mean.”
“Ooo, harsh, T,” Quinn said.
Taylor looked up, blushing. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I swear. I’m sorry, Clark.”
“You didn’t assassinate the Hunters, kid. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Quinn checked her phone again out of habit. Still no messages. “Hey, have you heard anything from Joshua? I wondered if he had any way to check and see if Avery had received the money?”
“I know he sent it. He emailed me the receipt for the wire transfer. I’m not sure he can see if she’s used it without access to her accounts. I thought you just heard from her.”
“That was two days ago. It’s been crickets since then.”
Taylor closed her laptop. She joined Quinn by the equipment table. “I’m sure she’s all right. We’d hear if there was anything wrong, wouldn’t we?”
“Not if she’s dead in a Guatemalan jungle.”
“That was dark,” Taylor replied.
“I’m worried about her. I know she can take care of herself, and I’d be confident in her ability to get away if she was on her own. With six little girls in tow, she’ll feel responsible for protecting them. I know how I’d react if it were me.”
Taylor smiled. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of either of you if something sent you into mama-bear mode.”
Quinn started to respond, but Taylor held up her hand.
“Just saying I’d be more worried for the other guys.”
“Maybe.” Quinn switched gears and forced herself to think about something else. “All set with the app, T?”
“Everything checks out. I’m sure the others will find a few bugs, but we’ll fix them as they crop up.”
“Good,” Quinn replied. “Is Mom joining us?”
Clark said, “She’s going to stay here and babysit Tadpole. I assume you’re bringing Sylvie along? She could stay here with Tadpole and Naomi. She volunteered to take this round and watch them for the night.”
“I’m good with Sylvie coming along. She’ll behave as long as I’m around. As for Tadpole, you have to admit, putting him in charge of sorting the armory was an outstanding idea.”
Clark nodded and gave half a grin. “I did not know he had extensive training in the care and repair of weapons like that. I mean, he doesn’t come across as all that bright most of the time.”
“He only learned what his brothers wanted him to learn. Mostly that was to kill, but he has skill at fixing things, too. Maybe he’s like one of those people who’s got a hidden super-skill in one thing.”
Miranda said, “It’s very possible he’s some sort of warrior savant. He understands weapons and their use very well, but never learned to interact with others.”
“He tries his best. You all see that, right?”
Clark said, “No one is saying he isn’t trying. Until we got him focused on the weapons, though, I was sure we would have to take some drastic steps. Now, it looks like he’s found a full-time job for himself. You know, he even figured a way to recharge the waning magic in the oldest weapons from the collection?”
“I didn’t,” Quinn answered. “He can’t cast spells. How is he doing it?”
Clark shook his head. “I’m not sure. He said it’s something to do with the magic being dull, not diminished.”
Miranda brought her hand to her chin. “That’s an interesting way to look at that. I suppose it might be possible to hone a spell back into its correct shape in much the way you bring an edge back into alignment.”
Clark smiled. “I don’t really care how he does it if he gets results. Ever since he settled into working the armory, he’s a whole new orc. The first few swords he worked on look like they’re brand new.”
“I’m glad. I’ll still take Sylvie to the summit. She needs practice being out and about in public with other supernaturals. She generally keeps herself cloaked, anyway. Most people won’t even see her, even among the most powerful supernaturals. I’ll check on Tadpole when we get back and thank Mom for watching him.”
Taylor started for the door. “Let’s go, then. It’s time to release TeleHuntress, the app to bring the clan running to the rescue.”
Quinn laughed. “You’re really going for TeleHuntress?”
“Sure. It’s catchy, plus the app’s set up so they can do a face-chat with one of us before we send out an all-hands alert. That should weed out those who just need a little advice.”
Clark grunted. “I’ll believe it works when I see it.”
“Come on, grumpy pants,” Quinn said. “Let’s get going, or we’ll be late. I had a good visit with them the last time I was there and hinted at what I’d be coming back with. I think the reception from the community’s leadership will be positive.”
Miranda waved as they left. “I’ll wander down and hang with Naomi until you get back. Have fun. Knock ‘em dead, Taylor.”
Clark, Quinn, and Taylor loaded into the old sedan and headed across town. Their meet-up was to be held at a private social club for local werewolves called The Harvest Moon. The parking lot was full of cars by the time they arrived, and they had to park all the way at the back.
As the trio walked up to the front doors, Quinn remarked, “It looks like the entire community turned out. There are a lot of people here.”
Taylor shook her head. “It’s awfully quiet for a place with this many werewolves and other shifters inside.”
“Maybe there’s a lull in the action,” Quinn suggested. “Or the band’s taking a break.”
“Taylor’s right,” Clark said. He nodded at Taylor. “You’re the shifter here. What do you sense?”
Taylor stopped just outside the front doors and stared into space for a few seconds. She frowned. “You’re right. I don’t sense any other shifters nearby.”
“Let’s go inside, but be ready for anything.”
Quinn stepped even with Clark and drew her Bowie. Sylvie’s claws dug into the padded shoulder of her leather jacket as she leaned forward, ready to spring.
“Easy, girl,” Quinn said, stroking the dragon’s long neck with her free hand. She reached for the door, pulling it open. The coppery taint of fresh blood hung like a fog in the air as she entered the club. It was like she could taste it.
Behind Clark and Quinn, Taylor let out a low growl. Sylvie hissed as her tongue flicked out again and again to taste the air.
Quinn pressed forward until she almost tripped over the first body.
Catching herself on the vintage jukebox by the door, Quinn stared down. A grizzled middle-aged man in biker leathers lay against the neon lights of the jukebox’s base.
At least half of him did.
They had cut him in two at the waist. The lower half was a few feet away, closer to the bar. The guy had bled out on the floor while he dragged himself toward the door.
Bodies and pieces of bodies lay scattered everywhere.
Taylor’s snarling growl increased in volume. The shift had started as soon as she scented the blood.
“T, you all right? Maybe you should stay outside.”
The voice that responded was only half that of her friend. There was a snarl beneath it now. “I’m in control, but I want to kill someone, Quinn. The smell of death is overwhelming.”
“Be careful. If you need to go out for some air, you do it.” Quinn glanced over her shoulder to make sure her friend heard her.
Taylor’s facial features had shift
ed and elongated to accommodate her wolf’s fangs. Short blonde hair covered her face and arms, and one-inch talons had sprouted where her fingernails used to be.
Clark stood behind Taylor, his short sword drawn. “Where was our meeting supposed to be held?”
Quinn nodded to the back of the main clubroom. “I was told there’s a smaller conference room at the back where the social club’s board meets. The summit’s supposed to be in there.”
Clark pointed at a door in the far corner at the end of the bar. “Let’s look in there first. Taylor, you check for survivors.”
The tech witch-werewolf nodded. She stepped past the guy on the floor and started searching among the dozens of bodies scattered around the room and behind the bar.
Quinn and Clark worked their way through the carnage, focused on the door in the far corner. It was ajar a few inches.
When she reached it, Quinn tried to push it open, but something blocked it from the other side. She checked the floor and spotted the hand gripping the bottom. It belonged to a body on the other side.
Sylvie launched before Quinn could stop her and flew through the narrow crack.
Putting her shoulder to the door, Quinn shoved the body back enough so she and Clark could squeeze through.
When she got into the room, Quinn just stood there and surveyed the carnage. It was hard to be sure everyone she’d expected was in here, but she recognized a few of the faces among the bodies. “Goddess, Clark, they’re all dead.”
“Looks like it,” Clark said. He knelt beside the closest corpses. “A heavy sword, maybe an axe, did this. Maybe both. It’s hard to be certain. Look at the cuts. They’re all clean and deep, done in single strokes.”
“You’re thinking magical blades like we carry?”
“To kill them all like this, there’d have to be silver infused into the blade somehow. The Hunters aren’t the only ones who have that technology, but we were the best at it.”
“Avery mentioned Gemma had created demon-kinder from at least some of her Huntress trainees. If she’s brought them to town, the entire city’s in danger.”
“I’m more worried about how they knew to come here tonight. This all happened recently, only a few hours ago.”
“Eeeep.”
Quinn searched for Sylvie, spotting her at last on the floor next to a gray-haired woman. The dragon nuzzled the woman’s cheek, eliciting a low groan. Quinn raced over, trying to place the woman’s face in her memory. She thought she represented a coven of witches to the south. They’d met only once, at the previous meet up, so Quinn wasn’t sure.
The woman had a broad gash just below her ribs. The puddle of blood on the floor around her torso had already congealed. Quinn wasn’t sure how the old woman was even still alive.
Bending down and struggling to remember her name, Quinn said, “Lie still. We’ll get some help.”
The eyes fluttered open, and the lips curved with the hint of a smile. “Foolish girl, don’t lie to me. I know I’m dead. My old body is just stubborn and hasn’t decided to go yet.”
“Who did this?”
“It was one like you.”
“A girl my age?”
“Not exactly, but she was another Huntress. At least that’s how she announced herself. She was something more, too. The girl wasn’t alone, judging from the shouts and screams outside in the bar. Before she attacked, she said, ‘We are the Huntresses of the Change. Prepare for a new world order.’”
Clark knelt beside the woman, taking her hand. “Ainsley, it’s Clark. What did her voice sound like?”
The woman stared up at him, smiling. “Clark Hunter, I haven’t seen you in many years.”
“Too long,” he replied. “The voice, what did it sound like?”
“It sounded odd, almost like it was two voices speaking at once. I figured it was a Hunter trick of some sort designed to magnify your voice.”
Clark shook his head. “She was one of the demon-kinder, a possessed girl. They’re pretending to be Hunters to confuse people.”
“I believed her,” Ainsley said. “She can certainly kill us like a Hunter could, at least before you became civilized.”
Quinn ignored the accusation. “Did she say anything else? Please, anything you can tell us will help me track them down. I will make them pay for this.”
“I’m sorry, child. I’ve told you all I know.” The old woman’s back arched as she groaned again. A fresh flow of blood spilled from the gash in her stomach.
“Ma’am,” Quinn said, struggling again with the name. “Uh, Ainsley, don’t give up. There has to be something else. Think.” Quinn gripped the woman’s shoulders and stared into the wide-open eyes.
“She’s gone, Quinn.”
Quinn held the woman’s vacant gaze for a few seconds longer, refusing to believe she’d died before telling them more. Letting out a lengthy sigh, Quinn reached up and used her fingertips to slide the eyelids closed.
Standing, she shook her head. “This isn’t good. I wonder if Avery’s escape with the girls pushed up Gemma’s timetable? It can’t be a coincidence that demon-kinder Huntresses attacked Avery down south and came here to Baltimore at the same time.”
“I don’t think so, either,” Clark said. “It means there’s something here they either need or have to stop to put their plan into place.”
“Why didn’t they wait for us to come before they sprang the attack? They must’ve known we were coming tonight. It can’t be a coincidence.”
“It isn’t. Knowing Gemma, this is a challenge. She wants us to run around and chase them while we try to figure out what she really wants. It’s her twisted idea of a joke.”
“So we can expect more attacks like this one? We have to warn people.” Quinn stopped. “What if they know we’re here and O’Malley’s is unguarded? That could be their next stop.”
Clark pulled out his phone and tapped in a number. “That’s neutral ground. They’d be fools to attack. The protections there are formidable. Maybe, though, that’s all out the window now. I’ll warn Paddy, just in case. Check on Taylor. I’ll be right out.”
Quinn nodded and waved for Sylvie to join her. Together, the two headed back out to the bar. When she returned to the main room, Taylor was nowhere in sight. Quinn panicked, worried something had happened to her best friend.
Running to the door, Quinn called, “T, where are you?”
“Over here.”
The voice came from behind the bar.
Sylvie launched from her shoulder as Quinn shifted direction. The dragon beat her to the bar and leaned over to peer at the far side.
Quinn joined Sylvie and stretched to look and see.
Taylor crouched on the floor, staring at something beneath the bar. “You can come out. It’ll be all right. We’re here now, and we can protect you.”
“No, you can’t. Four of them killed every shifter in this bar. You two can’t stand up to them.”
“My friend is the Huntress. There’s nothing she can’t do.”
“The Huntress is here? For real?” A small head covered in curly hair poked out from under a shelf full of glasses and beer mugs. It was a boy of maybe ten or eleven.
Quinn waved. “I’m here. For real. Come on out and sit there beside my friend Taylor.” She pointed at the glasses. “Get him some water, T.”
Taylor nodded and grabbed the handle of a mug, then filled it with some ice water from a pitcher atop the sink.
“I’m Quinn. What’s your name?”
“Zane.”
“Hi, Zane. Aren’t you kind of young to come in here?”
“My dad’s the bartender. I come in to help him sometimes.” The boy started to stand so he could see over the bar.
Quinn reached out to nudge him back down. He didn’t need to see all the carnage. “Why don’t you stay seated for now? There’s nothing worth seeing out here.”
“I wanted to look for my dad. Can you see him? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know, Zane. I prom
ise we’ll check everyone and help the ones we can. Do you remember the women who did this? Can you remember anything they said?”
“After all the screaming stopped, I heard them talking. Their voices were weird. One of them said something about this stopping the Huntress from helping save the little ones. I guess they meant you.”
Quinn’s eyes met Taylor’s. The shifter crouched and handed Zane the mug of ice water.
“Here, sip this.” She stood back up and said, “This is all about Avery. They’re trying to keep us away so they can stop her coming here. What is it she’s done that’s got Gemma’s panties in such a bunch?”
“Whatever it is, Avery holds the key with those girls. I wish she’d reach out to me. I can’t go down to Mexico and try to track her down blind. I’d never find her if she didn’t want to be found.”
Clark came out of the back room. “Everything is fine at O’Malley’s, for now. Paddy said he’d use leprechaun magic to put more wards around the place. I’m not sure it’ll be enough after what’s happened here, but it’s better than nothing.”
“This is tied to Avery and those girls, Clark. They’re trying to keep me from helping them. The problem is, I don’t know where they are, even if I wanted to help.”
“Maybe they don’t know that,” Taylor said. “Maybe they think you’ll run off and lead them to her. You said you wouldn’t be able to find her if she went into stealth mode.”
“So, what do I do? Nothing?”
Clark nodded. “We deal with this mess and harden our defenses. When Avery reaches out again, we’ll fill her in and ask her what she wants us to do.”
“But—”
“Clark’s right, Quinn. For now, we prepare as best as we can. Gemma’s shown at least part of her hand in a gamble that will not pay off, at least not yet. She’s waiting for you to make the next move. Wait for Avery’s next call. Until then, there’s nothing else to do. We have to deal with the problems we already have.”
Clark pulled out his phone again. “I’ll call for help to come and clean this up. I also have to alert our contact in the city police department. We don’t want any nosy patrol officers poking around in here.”
Quinn nodded. “The bartender’s son survived. He hid behind the bar during the fight. We need to find someone else from his family. They need to come pick him up.”