by T S Paul
Minerva sighed, “Now isn’t the time for this. I’ve told you. Marcella and the others are tied up trying to get our people out of the occupied zones and food into the valley. I know you’ve seen the tent cities springing up all around here. But if you insist about this, I’ll grab one of the Coven’s scryers and have her take a look. Does that work for you?”
Squeezing his eyes tight, Fergus shook his head, “No. I’m going after her. Tell the others she’s back.” The tiny unicorn suddenly started tapping out a rhythm on the table. “Goodbye Minerva.”
Jumping out, Fergus disappeared in a flash of light that lit up the room. In the past he’d kept his jumping a secret by limiting distance and movement. But this time he had an entire continent to cross and time was of the essence. The feelings and what humans called vibes he was getting from his mistress were scaring him. Agatha was in trouble, and he was going to help her.
“Goddamnit! Freaking unicorn,” Minerva cursed. Slamming the book closed in front of her, she slid out of the kitchen chair. Grabbing her shoes, she stomped into the kitchen.
Minerva’s room was the oldest part of the house built in the 1600s by either Verity or one of her settlers. Never ones to tear down history, the Blackwood family made a practice of preservation when it came to their property. Everything had a use.
Pacing up and down the length of the kitchen, Minerva tried to get her mad out. Stupid unicorn. Since his unique form of magic prevented spells from taking hold, he was impossible to track every time he went off in a snit. This time though seemed different. He was more focused. She pursed her lips. The unicorn that cried wolf. That was what many of the older Coven members called him. But this time she wasn’t so sure. Was it even possible for a bond like that to exist? Weres had Pack sense, so why not herd sense? Needing an expert opinion, Minerva whipped out her phone quickly, typing in a number.
“No! Absolutely not,” Catherine Moore shook her head at the small pack of Weres confronting her. Known as Cat to her friends and family, the short blond former FBI special agent was a fierce contender. She was a throwback, meaning her animal was prehistoric rather than modern. In her case, it was an enormous sabretooth tiger.
“But no one is using it. It’s just plants and stuff. The humans can grow things somewhere else,” the pack alpha stated even as he triggered his Alpha mojo. He and his group were new to the valley and thought they’d found a choice spot to settle. All that was blocking them was the stupid female in charge. Who puts a chick in charge anyway?
Sensing the waves of power coming off the man in front of her, she smiled, ignoring them. “Those plants you refer to are part of The Garden. Capital letters in case you didn’t catch it. Ninety percent of the humans you see around here are Witches. The Garden is their charge and they will protect it with their lives. So no, you can’t have it. They’ll be a pack council meeting in a few days for you and your lieutenants to attend. Decisions will have to be made then.”
The Alpha intensified his power. “What sort of decision?”
Making a brushing motion with her hand she swept invisible crumbs off her shoulder. “Stop with the power play. That crap doesn’t work on me. You were told before coming into the valley you’d have to choose, so don’t play dumb either. My father and the Witch leaders will lay it all out in nice simple terms for you, don’t worry. What it boils down to is easy, either stay or go.”
“Stay or go where?” He asked.
“Come to the meeting and find out. Now if there’s nothing else, I need to see to the others,” Cat replied.
They were all standing around on the Northern edge of the valley right next to the Garden. Looking to her left, she gave a big man sitting on a car bumper a nod.
It’d been a hard six months in the valley so far. Cat lamented the fact she and what was left of Agatha’s team were forcibly retired by the FBI. Not by choice at all. The Witch’s Council made them turn in all official Bureau equipment to give the government less cause to come after them for theft. Guilt by association was what they had going on at the moment. If only those in Washington knew the whole truth.
Charles Winthrop, called Chuck, slid off the loaner car and stood up. Being out of the FBI was a little too weird for him. Since joining almost everything he owned was Government issued. Now it was no car, no clothes, no money… Having your accounts frozen for just being a paranormal sucked. But he wasn’t the only one that got screwed. Just about every paranormal in government service all the way down to the guy that cleans the floors was out of a job these days. That was one of the reasons the valley was so packed right now. Lack of a job hurt, but he had friends and contacts he could rely on. Many didn’t, and that left them vulnerable.
“Don’t walk away from me like that, I’m talking to you!” The alpha sputtered. “You NEED to tell me these things.”
Cat could feel his full power and really wasn’t impressed. “That's all you got? Because I’m not really feeling it. I mentioned my dad to you, Robert Moore?”
The alpha and his crew looked at her with puzzlement on their faces. “Who?”
Cat looked over at Chuck who gave her a facepalm. Sighing, she shook her head once as she assumed her warrior form.
All species of Weres have three basic forms: animal, warrior, and humanoid. Animal was just as it sounds. Each and every Were belonged to some sort of predator group. This was real life and not some romance novel, so there weren’t WereDeers or gophers. Wolves, cats, dogs, rodents, and bears were the most common. Weresharks were a thing as well. Not really related to the natural ones. But that is another story entirely.
Warrior form is the most interesting. A cross between human and animal, it had all the advantages with few of the weaknesses. The only problem being most Weres couldn’t hold it or hold it for long. Some alphas could also transform body parts without fully changing. Like their hands, feet, and faces. Those sorts of power were infinitely useful with keeping order and intimidating others.
“Robert Moore, the head of the Were Council? He works for the Species Council as well. He’s the guy that lined up all the Packs letting us know how to contact you,” Chuck spoke for the first time even as Cat ripped out of her clothes. “You boys are in the big leagues now.”
All three leaders froze in place. Chuck was a big guy in human form, but Cat was a monster. A medium build body as a human Cat transformed into a ten foot tall cat creature with huge teeth and claws. With paranormals, size mattered little. Unlike most alphas her age, she could speak in that form as well.
“Do as you are told and survive. The door here swings both ways,” she growled, taking a step toward them pushing out all HER Alpha mojo at them.
Chuck could only laugh as the alpha and his men hit the ground running and kept running. Cat was able to suborn another alpha, but that wasn’t something she wanted to do. Her pack was small and she liked it that way.
Looking down at her partner and pack member she let a small growl slip out, “That went well.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. Have to since your dad and Marcella put us in charge of this mess. Only so much we can do anyway, you know,” Chuck replied.
“But I want so very badly to do more,” Cat growled again. The song Black Magic Woman started playing suddenly. Looking down at her feet Cat pointed. “Grab my phone.”
“You know I love that ringtone, right? Who’s calling you?” Chuck asked even as he pulled it out of the pile of shredded clothing.
“Minerva or Marcella. That’s one of the house phones,” she said, gesturing for him to answer it. Giant paws and claws didn’t make for easy phone use.
“Cat’s phone, how may I assist you sir or ma’am,” Chuck spoke into the phone to the giggle of the giant warrior next to him. FBI speak was very prevalent with him.
“Chuck, this is Minerva. Can either you or Cat explain Fergus to me?”
Chapter Six
Rubbing my head, I moaned a bit. “Ow. Let’s not do that again.” I’d woken up on the floor yet again. O
nly this time, I remembered my trip. Taking one or two of my captors with magic was easy. Fighting an army alone was insanity. Wonder Woman I am not, no matter how hard I like to think I am. So much for Khonsu and all his help.
Pop!
Something… an invisible hand whacked me upside my head in a ghostly Gibbs maneuver. Glancing upward, I inclined my head. “I’m just frustrated. Don’t hold it against me, ok?”
The room was silent. I’m sure the assholes listening in on me must’ve thought I was insane. More insane. I doubted they’d ignore me now, though. Looking around my cell confirmed that. The bed was gone, along with anything not bolted down. And it looked as though they’d reinforced both the sink and the toilet. Nothing like a bit as telekinesis mixed with some magically enhanced strength to scare the bejesus out of a bunch of Kitsune warriors.
Now that I’d had a real good look at their soldiers and guards, I knew what they were. And I could take a really good stab at where I was. Getting that info to Grandmother and the packs was the real issue.
Rubbing my arms and legs told me nothing was broken or damaged beyond some serious bruising. I now knew what a football quarterback felt like. A losing one. I slid to one side and rolled myself onto the mattress, the only part of the bed they hadn’t removed. At least I had that. “Use what you have to help yourself.” That was what the god told me. He’d shown me how to use the bracelets and explained so much that my brain hurt. My powers were my own, though. Each guardian was different in their own special way. Agnes said the same. Grunting, I sat up straight with my back to the wall. No full lotus, though. That shit hurt my legs too much. Half would have to do for now. Those mystics of old were a trip, to be able to sit like that for hours at a time. Casting my magic sense out again, I scanned the room for weakness first.
“Nope. Blocked,” I traced the hieroglyphics on the bracelets with my eyes. Contact with the God of Wisdom caused the ornaments to gleam like new. Somehow they were blocked as well. I could almost feel the shield at the very edge of my consciousness. It felt as though an entire coven was at work.
Powers, I thought to myself. What did I truly have that might help me here? Meditation wasn’t really my strong point, even though Grandmother had trained me well before passing me off to the FBI. Every martial art master I’d come in contact with, as well as the fictional ones I loved such as Master Chuin the Great and Kwai Chang Cain, all said the secret was breathing. Learn how to breathe and you can overcome all obstacles.
Closing my eyes, I took a clue from Ralph Hinkley and thought of a blank white wall or sheet of paper. Still your mind and breathe. I could hear one of the masters whispering into my ear.
Ever so slowly, breathing in and out, in and out, in and out, my body started to relax. Aches and pains numbed themselves down as every sensation faded into nothingness and oblivion. “White paper.” My whispered chant to myself became silent as I slipped into what Grandmother called a fugue state of mind.
Reaching out, I could ‘see’ my powers in the corners of my mind. Everything in its place, as Minerva would say.
“You’ve come far, my child. Achieving inner bliss is beyond many of the mystics that walk your world today. What you seek is right in front of you. Do you have the strength and the will to use it? That is my question to you,” Khonsu’s familiar voice echoed in my brain.
Witches are born with powers. Usually they kick in at puberty when the hormones in our bodies start to change. I was an early bloomer. Four years old and casting spells like a pro. A pro lost in a jungle with a blindfold over one eye. I look back and cringe at the mistakes I made and the sheer and utter chaos I created… Fergus and the purple squirrels being the worst of it all. I might have stopped all the potential problems and just turned Camilla into a chicken or something early on. Karma. It’s not my friend.
But back to powers. Because of my family, I had access to more powers than most witches. Powers not seen in centuries. Powers like the ability to dreamwalk.
Dreamwalking scared the crap out of me. Plain and simple. I’d knowingly done it one time, and it still gave me the shivers. Grandmother and my contacts at Arcane promised me that the Strega cavern had been filled in and cemented over, but deep down just the thought of it scared me. Atavistic terrors and all that. Mundanes would say it gave me the heebie jeebies. Having waking dreams of that place prevented me from ever touching my talent for it. Khonsu knew it, too.
Reaching out with my mind, I scanned for active Theta waves. My estranged relatives had me blocked in, both magically and telepathically. But dreams were something else. Grandmother and Minerva had researched it. According to a journal left by one of my more ancient great, great, great family members, everything living gave off an ‘aura’ of power when they dreamed.
REM sleep is what scientists call it. Rapid Eye Movement. It’s during REM that your brain oscillates at an electrical frequency, creating Theta waves.
Scanning outward, I let my thoughts drift like a leaf in the wind. While not asleep, I could just barely sense the presence of a half dozen guards outside my cell. Drifting out the door and down the hall, I felt several dozen more. Ever so gently, I let my consciousness drift toward the group.
Unlike the guards, these Kitsune were all seated around a stage. A wiccan-style altar, complete with pentacle and elemental representation, was set up in the middle of the room. Studying it, I could make out many of the runes being used.
Traveling in dreamspace was a bit like walking through fog. If I concentrated on something I could see it, but everything else was only partially there. Which is why I couldn’t quite understand what the runes were being used for. But I could jump into the head of the guy sleeping in the corner!
Kitsune! There were fox spirits everywhere! We were in what appeared to be a town square or temple grounds. Ruins and fanciful buildings surrounded us. The people were more human looking than fox. Seeing through the eyes of the man I’d jumped into, a priest of Inari if he was to be believed, I was experiencing his dream. Both Agnes and my grandmother gave me lessons on how to do this, but it was still my first time soloing since training. Supposedly, dreamwalkers could control the dream. That bit was too hard for Agnes to explain properly. All the books said it was intuitive. It was time to find out if that was true.
“Where are we?” I asked the priest, my voice whispering in his mind.
“Home. The lost land. Lord Inari’s domain,” the priest replied. Taking a step forward, the man began to walk among the people.
Foxes with multiple tails were common here. I observed older beings with five, seven, and even nine tails. The only foxes with one tail were children.
“Are your people shifters like the wolves and the cats?”
Fox spirit creatures hadn’t been covered at the academy. The FBI stuck to creatures encountered inside the boundaries of the United States for the most part. It was my first boss, Jack Dalton, who filled me in on the more unusual. He’d said at the time that while there were Kitsune out in California, they kept to themselves and were part of the mob. Policing organized crime wasn’t part of our charter. Supernatural or not, we were supposed to let the regular agents deal with them. Unless someone was spelled or zapped in some way. Then we got it.
The priest paused for a moment as if to consider the question. Slowly his head shook back and forth. “No. We are a separate people. Ancient and spiritual. Lord Inari created us as servants. It was our job to spread his blessings.”
“Was? Do you no longer serve him?” I asked.
“We are divided. The Zenko sought to destroy us and in their haste doomed our people. Inari banned us all from his service as punishment, locking the gates and sealing his realm from us. It is our home. Our true home that we cannot now reach. All because of a few idiots.” The priest spread his arms around him, growling out his despair. “This is but a fantasy world. What we could and shall become again if we can defeat our enemies. The great spell will work, and we shall have our dominance. Regaining paradise is finall
y within our grasp.”
Everything around us changed suddenly. Gone were the temples and people. Foxes of all ages and color faded from view. Looking around, I could see we were back in the auditorium. The priest was still asleep. Reaching out with my mind, I gently probed his mind. He wasn’t just a regular priest. He was one of the High Priest’s assistants.
Like flipping through cards in an old-fashioned card catalog, I parsed the man’s memories, searching for why they needed me so badly. Stopping for a moment, I pulled out a memory…
“... unsuitable. Lord, there is still time to preserve your family honor and save face! The prophecy states…” the priest waved his hands at Lord Shinigama.
“No! My family is everything to me and my wife. I should kill both you and your master for even suggesting killing my son! How dare you. Know your place, priest,” the lord spat. Motioning to his guards, he pointed. “Toss him out and bring Master Unway to me.”
I slipped the card back into the file. A gigantic library was how I was perceiving the inside of the priest’s head. It sort of looked like the Library of Alexandria in Otherwhere. Now there’s a couple of brains to dive into. Either Mack or Owl would be fascinating to poke around in. Pulling out another card, I joined a conversation between the priests.
“The prophecy states it will be the youngest. Inari has sent us the signs. Somehow, someway, we must convince our lord to eliminate his third born son. We control the second. When he reaches puberty and comes into his power, the doorway will open and it will be I… I mean we will bring forth the way,” Master Unway whispered to his assistant.
“But master, you told me that prophecy cannot be controlled. How does killing the boy help us?” the assistant asked. “Won’t it just push forward another generation?”
Crouching down, the old priest rocked back on his haunches. “No. There is more than one prophecy and more than one translation. Even the Zenko, Gods above and below curse their name, have their own versions of it.” Pointing his finger skyward, the old man continued. “When the stars align exactly as foretold in the first exile pronouncement, the issue of the King shall grant the power to return. The scion of the prince will hold sway with the Gods themselves.”