by Mark Henwick
Flint waggled his hand. “Yeah, there’s a way to go undercover, but then we can’t sense them either.”
“But every so often, we could pop up and sneak a peek before they realize it,” Kane said. “Then disappear again.”
A vivid memory of my old Ops 4-10 instructor, Top, came to mind.
Reconnaissance is never wasted, he’d said to us.
The idea took root.
“Well, I don’t like not knowing who or what we’re facing, so let’s go scout,” I said. “Find out a little more about what we’re up against. I bet clever boys like you can do magical direction finding, can’t you?”
Chapter 7
“Is stupid.”
Yelena’s blunt assessment of my plan for scouting seemed to gather weight as she pulled over and stopped the car at Kane’s quiet request.
I was still undecided.
Flint and Kane had seemed as good as their boasts.
They put us into ‘stealth mode’ before we left Manassah, and that over-the-shoulder, being watched feeling had evaporated. We’d taken a tablet with a streetmap, driven south for ten minutes and then they’d cautiously uncloaked. As soon as I started to feel the sensation of being watched again, they’d cut it off.
Cloaked again, we’d gone west to Lakewood and repeated. Then north to Arvada, east to Park Hill, south to LoDo, and finally, at the centre of the spiral, we were now in Denver’s RiNo area—River North.
People said that RiNo was Denver’s next big up-and-coming place, as the rebuilding in LoDo came to an end. It was being marketed as the ‘Art District’ by the developers. I thought of it as the lost bit between the Coors Field ball park and the Blue Moon brewery, nestling in the armpit made by the intersection of I-25 and I-70. It used to be a lot of dust, scruff and old warehouses with the South Platte River and the railway yards running through it.
I had to admit, things had moved on since I’d last been this way. Long, low commercial buildings had pushed out the scruff, and pastel-colored apartment buildings had sprung up like mushrooms.
The thing was, part of whatever had been bugging me all day had gotten worse. Not the over-the-shoulder feeling, but the sense something was going wrong.
I looked around.
Snow was blowing in from the northwest, and streamers of it slithered down from the tops of the buildings, waving like white silk ribbons in the wind.
Yelena raised an eyebrow at Kane for further clarification, but it was Flint who spoke.
“Somewhere here,” he said, waving a hand to indicate the block. “Probably easier to walk now.”
“We’re a lot closer, according to your instructions,” I said, “but you still can’t get a fix on who they are or where they are without walking around?”
Kane scratched his head. “It’s weird. It’s like they aren’t even paying attention. It comes and goes.”
“Like there’s only a couple of them?” Flint said. “Fading in and out, being distracted. They’re not local but it doesn’t really feel like Michigan Adepts either.”
“How dangerous?” I asked.
Flint’s mouth twitched. “A couple of them, not even paying attention? Not at all.”
Tullah’s mother, Mary, had once told me sensing magic energy was like being on a huge trampoline. You could feel other users around you, especially powerful users. Two of them, fading in and out, didn’t sound that dangerous.
Maybe if I still had Hana, my wolf spirit guide, I’d feel more. But she had gone, along with Tara.
It stabbed at me, that loss.
I still didn’t know exactly what had happened to me back in that fight against the Taos Adepts in New Mexico, that caused Tara, my stillborn twin sister’s spirit, and Hana, my wolf spirit guide, to leave me.
I was hoping that Tullah and Kaothos would be able to tell me—to help me find them again. But at the moment, I was bereft, depending on secondhand information from Flint and Kane.
The buzz I’d felt back at Manassah after infusing Scott had leaked away, leaving me feeling tired and depressed.
I mustered my energy and focused as best I could.
Yelena was looking at me for the go-ahead.
Flint and Kane seemed cautious, but not at all concerned, so I nodded and we got out.
“Two minutes and then we go home,” I said.
The car doors closing sounded very loud. It was quiet, even given that it was Christmas Eve. There was no one else on this road. No moving cars, no pedestrians. Strange.
My unease was growing, but I still felt almost compelled to go forward. Whether it was the Calling or my instincts, I didn’t know anymore.
We were parked in front of a new building which advertised itself as Schown Apartments—A community of UPSCALE comfortable homes—HURRY!—LAST FEW still available.
Popular or not, with its hi-tech aluminum columns and bold glass front, the Schown building looked as if it was designed for summer. It gave the impression it didn’t like the snow much.
Kane and Flint turned left and walked slowly.
Yelena and I followed for about fifteen paces before I felt something change, as if my itch suddenly became a prickling over all my skin.
Not good.
We all felt it. Flint and Kane turned around, suddenly worried.
I looked back.
A shroud of snow billowed around the Schown building, so all that was visible was the gleaming top of the facade. The entrance, the sidewalk and our car had disappeared in a fine white mist.
Darkness moved where the sidewalk was, floating like a mirage, then resolving into a figure walking toward us.
A woman. Pale. Hair like ice. Even at this distance I could tell she had startling blue eyes. She was dressed in black, with an open leather duster and thin gloves, entirely unsuitable for the weather.
“Oh—” Kane started.
“Crap,” Flint finished.
There was a feeling in my head like I was breathing in cold smoke. The Adept version of eukori. I clamped down, imagining shiny metal shields around my head. The soft awareness of Yelena and my two Adepts behind me chopped off abruptly.
The woman walked like Rita, the were-cougar, did—all slink and dangerous purpose. She came to a stop in front of me.
“Amber Farrell, House Farrell, I believe.” Her voice was sharp, cutting the sentences up into isolated, breathy puffs. “I am Gwendolyn Enkeliekki, Hecate of the North.”
“Alias Wendy Witch,” Kane muttered. “Leader of the Michigan and Ontario Adepts.”
Her cold lips stretched. I couldn’t call it a smile exactly, but if she was upset by the nickname, she gave no hint. Her eyes never left mine. Their blue was deep and sharp, like cold fire. Electric neon.
“Pleased to meet you...” I said. Hecate? A title of some kind. I wasn’t even going to try her surname. “Gwendolyn? Call me Amber.”
The prickling intensified.
This wasn’t a couple of Adepts fading in and out. This was raw power. Somehow, they’d disguised their strength, luring us down here by seeming weak and inept.
Even though I’d known we were being Called, I’d underestimated how much I was affected by it.
This was a trap—a clever, insidious trap.
I was aware of Yelena beside me, balancing on the balls of her feet. Flint and Kane pressing forward as if to protect me, the feel of defenses from them sliding around us like shutters. The wind buffeting all of us, wrapping us in a whirl of snow, isolating us in a white vortex until it seemed as if the whole world was nothing but the five of us.
The Hecate had turned up the collar of her duster, her only concession to the cold. It flapped against her cheek like a captive bird’s wing.
Her lips curved up. That was a smile.
Hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
“Shit—” That was Kane.
My thoughts exactly. She was doing something. I reached out, but tripped.
We all tripped, and fell into the icy heart of a blizzard.
/> Chapter 8
I was lying in the dirt. I must have hit my head. Badly. Passed out.
I shook myself and stood up. No dizziness.
Also no Denver. No roads and buildings. No snow.
Strong, clear sunlight. Warm wind. Flat, dry scrubland, dropping away westwards to a barely visible river.
What the hell?
Yelena was standing next to me, blinking. She was dressed in old-time buckskin, her hair in braids, with a turquoise bead choker around her neck and moccasins on her feet.
From the way she was looking at me, I was dressed the same.
I almost wanted to laugh, except for the seriousness of what had just happened.
What the hell didn’t seem strong enough.
There was no sign of the others.
“Flint? Kane?” I yelled.
A glossy raven floated down out of the impossibly blue sky and landed on my shoulder.
Flint. The Raven. I just knew it was him. I could sense him now.
Kane is near the river, watching her.
...and I could hear him, in my head.
“What the hell happened? Where are we?”
She tricked us. The raven shuffled its weight from side to side. She has the elite team of her coven here.
“Where?”
I looked around. There was no one else.
The raven danced some more.
Not here, exactly. In Denver, near where we were. We’re physically here, they’re physically there, but the worlds are spirit-close. I think they’re in that apartment building we passed, shielding themselves somehow. Showing just enough of themselves to lure us down there.
“So where are we?”
This is the spirit world, as she has drawn it. A Denver without people. The same place, just... shifted a bit.
“In summer.”
The bird gave a little half-flap of wings, like a shrug, like I needed to concentrate on important things.
“Can we get back?”
Yesss.
It wasn’t the most confident of replies.
“Means no?” Yelena said. She was picking up stones. That was a good idea. Low tech but very unpleasant to be hit by a heavy, well-thrown stone. “Means Hecate-bitch can keep us here? Where is she?”
The raven cawed and flapped.
As soon as one of the coven falters, we can get back, he said. Or we can undermine her channeling of the energy that weaves the spirit world here and pulls us into it. Until then...
He faltered.
“What?”
This weave is hers. While she and her coven are fresh, and we’re here, she’s really powerful. She could have killed us all, the moment we got here. Still could, maybe. And...
“And what?”
We’ve figured out what must have happened. Up in Michigan, Wendy had the covens surround House Prowser’s mansion, waiting for Prowser to hand Kane and me over. Amanda drove out the front with Scott while we sneaked out the back way. We didn’t think Wendy knew that we’d become Amanda’s kin, so when Wendy asked where Amanda was going, she just told her. Didn’t seem any reason not to.
Which cleared up one mystery. Gwendolyn hadn’t needed to follow them. She’d flown down, with her coven, in whatever comfort you could get on a short-haul airplane, arranged for an apartment and waited for House Lloyd to arrive. Then lured us here.
My stomach sank.
“Hecate-bitch is two steps ahead of you,” Yelena said.
Not the real point, though. If she knew we were kin, she could have caught us in Michigan by taking Amanda hostage. And if she’s gotten this powerful, she could have killed us there. Or she could have killed us here when she brought us here, into the spirit world.
“So... she hasn’t killed us. Yet.” I thought about it.
Did it mean she didn’t want us dead?
Or she wanted to play with us a bit first?
I didn’t voice that thought.
“Why?” I asked instead.
Kane and I think she wants to be here in Denver for some reason, and she wants to talk to you, House Farrell, more than she wants to kill us.
“And so we should see what she wants?”
The raven bobbed its head.
I had the feeling he was hugely embarrassed to have been tricked and kinda surprised to be alive. And very curious, which was a good thing, sometimes.
I sighed, trying to pretend this whole thing hadn’t scared me. “Point me in the right direction. And you...”
The raven cocked his head, one beady eye fixed on me.
“Crap on my shoulder and I’ll make a headdress out of you.”
Kane was halfway to the river bank. His coyote fur was tan and orange, which matched the ground. He was almost invisible until he stood and gave himself a dusty shake.
She’s sitting down beside the river, he said. Just waiting.
“Well, if she wants to talk, let’s go talk.” I kept my voice down. “But if you two can manage to get us out of here, I’d rather talk to her on my ground.”
Understood, Flint said. But...
She may not hear us speaking like this, but anything you say aloud in the area, she’ll be able to hear, Kane added.
“Great.”
I walked on to where the ground dropped and became uneven. The river in spate had eroded the banks, leaving a margin of naked rocks and channels of collapsed earth.
This wasn’t some half-imagined virtual world. This Colorado was, for want of a better description, real. Just without the city and the people.
The Hecate was close to the flowing water, sitting cross-legged, with her back propped against a large boulder, hands folded in her lap. She looked comfortable, her whole body relaxed. Not as if she was about to turn me into a toad and squash me.
I climbed down cautiously and sat opposite her, with Yelena on my right. Flint remained on my shoulder. Kane sat between Yelena and me, tongue hanging out and attention focused on the Hecate.
She was still wearing the black leather duster. It seemed she’d been waiting for us to join her.
As I watched, her whole appearance changed. Her skin became darker, her hair became light brown and wavy. The eyes warmed to hazel instead of that chilling, bottomless blue.
I’d seen werewolves’ faces shift between human and wolf, and if they could do it, I guessed an Adept could as well.
Why would she do it, though?
The new face, although almost completely the same, was softer, less stiff. More... human somehow.
I imagined she thought it made her less frightening.
She was wrong. Whatever she looked like, there was an aura of eerie threat coming off her.
I’d been too dazed by being kidnapped so suddenly to be really scared, yet, but watching her change, watching her sitting so completely relaxed and in control made me realize how powerless I was here, even with a pair of Adepts and Yelena.
And in contrast, how powerful she was.
Not a good idea to let her realize how scared I was.
“We change clothes or bodies and you just change your face?” I asked.
Her lips thinned, slightly lopsided.
“This is just me, as I am, without the Aspect of my spirit guide,” she replied. “As for your clothes, this substantiation of the spirit world is not purely mine. As I drew you in, three of you interacted with it, modified it a little to include some of you. What other forms would Raven and Coyote take but their own? And you, it appears, subconsciously mix your Native American heritage with your expectation of the spirit world.”
Her voice remained the same, very quiet and precise.
“I’ve never been here before,” I said. “I have no expectation.”
“Not here exactly.” She pursed her lips briefly again. “But I understand you’ve called up a substantiation of your own while helping the Were cubs who had trouble shifting. I’m impressed, by the way.”
I shook my head to clear the memories she called up, of dancing through clouds of smok
e from bonfires to the rhythm of stamping feet. That wasn’t like this.
“I doubt I would magic our pistols away,” I said.
“No. But things like that generally don’t exist here.” She paused. No fidgeting, no movement, other than her face. Complete, concentrated stillness. Disturbing. “And as for your valiant Diakon, with rocks in her pocket, I should point out I wouldn’t even need to duck. I have you where I want you, and you cannot attack me here.”
I heard the hiss of exasperated breath from Yelena, but she didn’t unload the rocks. The Hecate claiming something wasn’t the same thing as it being true.
“You’ve given sanctuary to House Lloyd, haven’t you?” she said. “So you all come as a package now.”
Her eyes flicked from Raven to Coyote.
“Yes. I’ve taken House Lloyd as a sub-House, which means that they’re all under my protection, and therefore also under the protection of House Altau.”
I needed to get that in. Flint and Kane seemed to think she could kill me here with no more effort than a blink of her eyes, but she wouldn’t, if she made an enemy of Skylur by doing that.
I hoped.
Wind blew strands of hair across her face. She ignored them. Her eyes returned to hold mine.
“And when you took House Lloyd’s oath, did she tell you her kin were under sentence of death?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“They have explained I could have killed you all when I brought you here?”
“Which would have started a war with the Athanate.”
“Maybe.” Her nose flared. “Maybe not.”
She didn’t seem concerned about the thought of a war with the Athanate, which was chilling in itself. Or just maybe she regarded it as unlikely to happen. If all four of us disappeared without trace, what was Skylur going to do? Start a war with the Adepts in full view of humanity? On the suspicion some Adepts might have killed us?
The Athanate codes of behavior were written up in the Agiagraphos, the closest thing to a holy book the Athanate had. But in this instance, there were two rules that applied. One rule demanded that the responsibility for protection of members of a House was shared all the way up the chain of association. House Farrell was a sub-House of Altau, so Skylur was responsible for the safety of my House members as much as I was, and Skylur could command the entire Athanate population of North America.