Chaos Burning

by Lauren Dane

  And beyond that was the bigger issue. These disappearances would be bound to attract the attention of the authorities. The human authorities. Which was a puzzle. Why would they want that? How would they continue their little snatch-and-grab operations if the cops or the FBI suddenly knew it was witches and werewolves being kidnapped to have their lives stolen for a fix?

  Megan Warden came back outside and gave Lark a sidelong glance. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  This woman was sharp. Her gaze missed nothing as she scanned the area all while her attention was on Lark. Intense. Lark tended to appreciate intense people. They were more emotionally honest. Honesty meant a lot, said a lot about character.

  Lark shifted her weight. “I can explain it all to you once we get out of the open. Voices carry. This is clan business.”

  “I understand. We can go back inside the building if you’re done. This business is run by our wolves. There’s an office we can use.”

  “Don’t you want to call the cops? File a missing person’s report?”

  Megan looked her up and down again and exhaled sharply. “No. They’ll be useless and you know it.”

  “I do, yes, but I think you needed to have the opportunity to do it of your own free will.”

  They headed back inside. The truth was, she and Megan had a far greater chance of finding this wolf than the humans would. But this was witch business and she wanted to protect her people as well as deal with the threat posed to an ever-increasing number of Others. Humans wouldn’t believe them. At first. And if and when they did it would be too late to save the wolf and they’d all be under the spotlight by humans. Some of whom had already laid claim to that patch of land hatred of anything different always seemed to have.

  They’d take care of this and keep the humans out of it as long as possible. It was increasingly inevitable that humans would find out about the existence of all the Others living among them but she preferred to have that knowledge be about something other than kidnaps and murders.

  Megan motioned her into an office and followed, turning to her guard at the door. “No one in or out.” She shut the door and moved to sit on the corner of the nearby desk. “What the hell is going on here? Does this have anything to do with what the cats in Boston dealt with recently? Crazy-assed witches trying to kidnap other witches and take their magick. Something about magic junkies.”

  Lark began to slowly wander around the room, getting a feel for these wolves, so very different from the ones she’d dealt with in L.A. No less deadly though.

  “Mages aren’t witches. They’re humans who gain their energies through rites witches condemn. We do not harm to exercise our magick. It’s ours. We’re born to it. They aren’t. They steal it from others. Animals, other people, through rituals that induce pain and fear. It’s not the same as magick, it’s hard to explain, but it’s just sort of skillful manipulation of energy. Not theirs, so they’re never as strong as a witch, whose magick is natural and therefore it responds to our will. Our magick is a living thing inside us. But mages can be deadly and they’re willing to kill to steal that energy.”

  “I thought you guys were all unicorns and rainbows and candle stores with crystals in the windows. Well, not Edwina Owen—she’s a stone-cold terror. I can respect that.”

  Lark shrugged, well aware of what Others often assumed about witches. It suited witches just fine to be considered fluffy and sweetness instead of as Satan’s best girlfriend. That shit got a girl all drowned and stuff.

  She explained the recent history with the mages. “Starting in the southwest, heading east and now cycling west again, groups of mages began to hunt and then kidnap or attack witches. These mages then started working with turned witches.”

  “Turned?”

  “A turned witch is one who has become so addicted to stolen magick that the rituals they used to gain it begin to sever their connection with their magick. Magick addiction is often referred to as being stuck. But it goes further for some. They use it so much their connection to their magick is severed entirely.”

  “Shit. That can’t be good. I thought your magick was part of you. Like blood or your liver.”

  She nodded. “Precisely. So to be stripped of your magick slowly starves a once-witch and eventually they die. Sometimes they can live a few decades if they have a regular source of magick to steal. Mainly though, they’re pretty deteriorated when they get stuck, enough that death is a reality within the next three to five years.”

  “This is all bad news and stuff, but what does it have to do with my wolves?”

  “Witches aren’t the only beings with magick. Shifters have personal magick. It’s what contains your animal when you’re in human form and vice versa. Vampires have it. The Fae. And they’re all under threat now.” Lark turned to face Megan again. “They used to be a minor threat. One we could handle with vigilance. They tended to target witches who live outside a clan or coven. Less chance of being discovered. Better opportunity to find a witch who isn’t being guarded. It’s more complicated now. What we’re discovering is that they’ve developed a sort of organized criminal network. This has happened across the U.S. and in Canada too.”

  “Are they trafficking the magick then?”

  “We’re still working to uncover just what they’re doing. It’s clear they’re stealing the magick from the Others they’re taking. But there’s something else.”

  “Of course there is. There always is.” Megan sighed. “Tell me.”

  Lark explained the magick she’d used to see into the memories of the prisoner they’d taken. “I saw… I saw something very old. He, the prisoner, was beyond scared of it. I’ve got my people at the clan working on it, but it’s our belief at this point that the Magister has returned.”

  Megan paled. “Get out of town. That’s an old scary story.”

  “I wish I could laugh and say just kidding. But I can’t.”

  Megan blew out a breath. “I need to talk to my Alpha and also to my grandmother who is one of our Elders. She knows about stuff.”

  “Stuff like old magicks?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d be honored if she’d take a call or visit from me. I’d like to hear what she knows.”

  Megan looked her over again. “I can’t decide what to think about you. We don’t normally mix much with non-Weres.”

  “We’re similarly insular. And look where it’s gotten us.”

  “Yeah, there’s that. All right. I’ll call you after I’ve spoken to my grandmother.”

  “I’ll keep you updated from my end as well. I’m going to have Ginger be your liaison on your missing wolf. We’ll help in any way we can.”

  They walked back outside where Ginger was taking notes and having a conversation with one of the werewolves on the scene.

  “The only way we can fight this is united. All this political crap is meaningless now.” Lark indicated the scene with a tip of her chin. “This erases all the barriers we’ve had before.”

  “I agree. Christ.”

  SIMON tried to concentrate on the work in front of him. He couldn’t. The numbers swam as he wondered how Lark was and if she was safe. She would have been, he reassured himself, she was able. Capable. Badass even.

  His phone was within reach. He could call her. He had the number after all. He wasn’t one who called females he was seeing. Not other than to arrange a date or what have you. Women liked to talk on the phone. He did not. But he’d already admitted Lark wasn’t an average female.

  “Why are you here?” Dominic asked as he leaned on the doorjamb, taking Simon in. “Weren’t you out all night with this witch stuff?”

  “I got three hours’ sleep.”

  “Meriel had lunch with her, just FYI.”

  So she’d at least eaten and was all right as of a few hours ago.

  “There’s been another kidnapping. A wolf.”

  He was standing before he’d realized it. “Where?”

  “She’s my hunter, Simon. Sh
e’s good at her job. Let her be.”

  “This has gotten serious. More serious anyway. Jumping from witches outward?” Simon scratched his beard as he mentally tried to talk himself down. “You can use the help. I’m good at her job too.” Which wasn’t a boast.

  “This is her investigation. She has her own people to order around. And you don’t take orders anyway.” Dominic smirked.

  “I don’t need to be her assistant. If this has jumped to Others, that means my people could be involved as well. I can assist without working for her.”

  He knew it was a lie before he’d even finished saying it. He’d seen her work. She’d have her own ideas on how the investigation should be run and if he showed up, she’d order him around too. Which was sort of hot, even though he always just did what he wanted anyway.

  “Why don’t you go home? Tell your father about this? Make sure the way is being tightly controlled.”

  That was a good idea on several levels. Those from the other side of the Veil between worlds could travel back and forth easily. But it could be a disaster if these mages thought to make that trip. He didn’t want to think about the Magister deciding to notice Lycia or the Fae.

  He hadn’t been home in some time. It would be a good trip to make. But he wanted to take Lark too. He smiled to himself as he figured out how he could make that a reality.

  LARK paused as she tapped on the door leading to Archives. She waved when she caught sight of Gia Kelly, who motioned her inside.

  She held out a bakery box. In her time in Seattle, Lark had realized the best way to make friends with the Kellys was to bring them treats. Which wasn’t a hardship and it gave her an excuse to stop in more often. She liked it down in Archives. Quiet, full of great, dusty old volumes and funky stuff Gia gave her side-eye over if Lark touched.

  “I brought blond brownies today. I was at Pike Place with Meriel earlier and I had one of these. They were so good I figured you guys needed a few as well.”

  “Come in and sit. Over there near my desk. I’m going to call everyone in.”

  “Wow, that bad?”

  Gia sobered. “Yes.”

  Sheila came in with her husband, Shawn, and their son, Carl. The full team was going to brief her? Nervousness edged at her confidence and she shoved it aside the best she could.

  “How much do you know about the Magister?” Gia asked her as she placed a brownie on a small plate and handed it left until they all had one.

  “Not very much. I know it’s old. I know it’s the big bad. I read up a little, what I could find anyway. Hasn’t been seen for generations.”

  “For millennia. The Magister is old. Very, very old. It’s chaos magick. It’s not motivated by greed. By right or wrong. It has no pity. No compassion. No hatred or fear. It seeks to destroy in epic fashion.”

  Oh, just that? A piece of cake. She sighed. “What exactly is it?”

  “The oldest texts referred to it as an oncoming storm. A mass of energy so vast it blotted out the horizon and took away whatever lay in its path.” Sheila Kelly was petite. She said this as she tucked her feet beneath herself and sipped some tea. She appeared to be a sweet, middle-aged woman who was discussing the new bulbs she’d just planted.

  “But is it a being? A group of beings? An alien? Why is it here? Did someone or something call it? Cause it? And how can we kill it?”

  Shawn finally spoke. Lark knew he was married to Sheila Kelly, but she rarely even caught sight of him around the office. “The Magister exists to cleanse.”

  “Cleanse?”

  “In a genocidal sense, yes.”

  “Like Hitler? You’re telling me we have a Hitler storm out to… what? Is it connected with the mages? Who and what gets cleaned and why?”

  “What is most important to remember here, Lark, is that this is not your typical adversary. As Sheila said earlier, it is not out for revenge. You cannot reason with it. Or appeal to its sense of compassion or logic. It has its own motivations. We may not ever know why.”

  “Just that it’s here to kill us all? If there are stories about it, someone must have survived. Someone had to have vanquished it somehow. I want to know about that.”

  Gia nodded and then patted Lark’s knee. “I like the way you think. The stories we have are very old, just remember that. But what we do have, even the rumors are fearful. The stories used to scare children of so many races are universally dire. Factually, there hasn’t been the merest whisper about the Magister in well over two thousand years. Even before that it’s sketchy at best. At least here on Earth.”

  “But there are creatures older than us. Right?”

  Shawn smiled at his wife before turning back to Lark. “You were right about this one. Yes. The Fae have their own stories about the Magister. Only they call it the Wild Hunt and embody it with animal and humanoid shape.”

  “But everyone has to hide from the hunt or they die. Doesn’t it kill anything in sight? So humans as well as others are in danger? And if it’s so powerful why does it need to steal magick from Others?”

  “We don’t know where it gets its power. Or how. And yes, there is no master of the hunt. The hunt is viewed as nature’s way of correcting any mistakes. Only on a wide scale. Think on the Magister as a giant storm. Several of the texts we’ve found refer to it as the oncoming storm. A huge hurricane or tornado perhaps.”

  “Both draw power from the atmosphere. Both take it until they slowly drain and become less powerful.” She had to think on this awhile.

  “It may not be so simply connected to the types of storms we are familiar with. We don’t know how to kill it. Or stop it. We’re still looking. We’ve contacted all the other archives in all the other clans and they’re working on it as well. We’ll let you know what we find out but I wanted to give you what little we had. In short, this is something we’re woefully unprepared for so I’d like you to be extra careful. I know you’re a strong witch, capable and all that. But this… this can’t be dealt with like a rogue werewolf or a witch. Given the scant details of total destruction we’ve found, I think it’s safe to assume the kind of power the Magister has can level city blocks.”

  “Where’s it hiding then? If it’s all big and stormy?”

  “One of the many things we don’t know just yet. We’re doing all we can.” Gia looked so disturbed it scared Lark and then she got over it. No time for fear right then.

  “I know. I’m sorry if I sound unappreciative of how much you’re doing. I have enough for now. Enough to tell Meriel so she can make her own reports even as I contact other hunters.” She took a few more notes and then stood.

  “We’ll call when we find out more.” Sheila walked with her to the elevator. “Please stay safe. We like you. And not just because you bring sweets.” She smiled and Lark felt a little better as she left.

  Chapter 14

  HE dressed carefully and pretended that he hadn’t been waiting for her for the last hour when she came in.

  Naturally he’d constructed a plan. Lark Jaansen was sharp. She didn’t miss a thing, which meant he had to be at the top of his game to make this work. If she got spooked by how fast he was moving or his natural aggressiveness, he’d have to remake hard-won progress. And patience was not his strong point.

  But she didn’t have her usual sort of burst of color and energy when she came in. The need to take care of her roared into place and he tried not to be gruff when he took her coat. His hormones surged as his beast wanted to take over. The man pushed back. He would soothe and protect at the same time.

  “I have steaks grilling. Go take a shower. I promise to have a drink and some food ready when you get out.” If he’d told her she looked tired or that she needed to rest, she’d resist because that was how stubborn she was.

  She narrowed her gaze at his smile. “Why are you being so nice? I already let you kiss me.”

  Damn, she made him laugh.

  He shook his head. “I’m a nice guy. I’ll take a kiss when I’m ready to. Right now
you need to shower and then to eat. Then I’ll see if I can’t get my lips on a few more parts of you.”

  She blushed. “Incorrigible.” But she trudged down the hall and toward the room she’d be staying in. “Be out in a while.”

  She was in his den. On his land. She’d be safe here and he could protect her. This all soothed his agitation as he went out to check the steaks. He looked out over his land as he thought about going home.

  It’d been a year and a half since he’d been back, though he’d been in more regular contact with his brother who lived in San Francisco part of the year so he got news about home on a regular basis.

  But it wasn’t the same as being there in person.

  He missed it. Missed his father’s house and the sound of his family all around. Raucous and chaotic, his siblings and cousins all over the place. Babies to their elders laughing, fighting, working, living.

  He missed it, but he couldn’t fully own his path while he lived there. He’d served his family, his pack. He’d trained and protected and spent hundreds of years in service. But one day he’d woken up and realized he wasn’t satisfied. There was more and he wanted to find it.

  He’d had to be away to finally achieve what he was meant to. Where he could build his own history and control his own damned life.

  Where he could be his own Alpha, which suited him just fine. And he supposed it suited his brothers too because they could be closer again without the constant tension about who was in charge. Who would lead the pack when their father stepped down. He didn’t want that upset. It had never seriously crossed his mind to challenge his brothers or his father for leadership.

  But that didn’t mean he was all right with settling for a life where everyone else made the rules either. No, he wanted to be in charge all right. And it wouldn’t have been possible there.

  So he came here and created his own pack. The woman in his home right at that moment was more than worthy of sharing this life with him. Though he had no illusions it would be easy. Especially at the beginning. She was an alpha too in her own unique way.