by H B Lyne
'What are you doing?' Weaver asked, her voice low and curious. Stalker moved closer and peered at the screen.
'Trying to find out who owns the phone. It's hit and miss, but is a first port of call.'
Stalker took out her own phone and looked at it while she waited. The idea that something could be hiding in it, listening to her calls, seeing her texts or tracing her movements made her uncomfortable. Claws did this for a living, routinely tracking people down like this, and that was bad enough, but if a demon used that information to endanger lives it brought a whole new level of paranoia to mind.
She thought again of Rhys's demon and the fact that it must know everything about him, everywhere he goes, everyone he speaks to. Speaking to that demon could be the key to determining for certain who Rhys really was. But convincing it to part with its secrets might be impossible.
She shook her head, and put her phone away. She had spent the night with him, been intimate with him and declared her love for him. She had decided to trust him, be that a wise decision or not, now she had to consciously act on it.
'Got it!' Claws exclaimed. 'It's a contract phone, I have a name and registered address, plus the network that it's connected to.'
'Can you track down where it is right now?' Wind Talker asked, halting his pacing and moving to look at the screen.
'Yep.' Claws hit a few keys and waited expectantly, Wind Talker and Weaver leaning over his shoulders. Stalker tried not to laugh at their eager faces. 'There,' Claws said, poking the screen. 'It's in St. Catherine's. Somewhere in that block.'
'What is that?' Weaver asked, peering carefully at the screen.
'It looks like a warehouse or something,' Claws replied.
Stalker grabbed Claws' car keys from the desk and jingled them.
'Come on then, let's go.'
They practically ran back to Grove Street, where Claws had parked his car. He drove, with Wind Talker up front, Stalker sandwiched between Eyes and Weaver.
'My car's bigger,' Eyes grumbled. Stalker hid a laugh behind her hand and turned to look at Weaver, whose lips were pressed firmly together, her eyes fixed on the window.
Claws sped to Red Bridge and crossed the river into neighbouring St. Catherine's. The area still carried negative connotations for Stalker, but she fought hard not to dwell on them. They steered north, avoiding the scenes of their past encounters with Knights and Witches, and into a more industrialised area. Claws pulled up opposite what looked like a disused warehouse. It was built from faded red bricks, had a corrugated iron roof, and a fire escape up one side. It was a rough neighbourhood, most of the buildings were in disrepair, and the pavement was strewn with litter.
Stalker heard dogs barking nearby and her hackles instantly went up.
'It's okay,' Weaver whispered, resting a hand on Stalker's tense arm. Claws set off again at a crawl, looking all around them as he drove carefully to the end of the street and pulled into a parking bay in front of one of the buildings.
'I'm going to check it out, Stalker, come with me. The rest of you stay here,' Claws said, his voice distant as his gaze roamed the street. Wind Talker's cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed. Stalker glanced at Eyes and raised her eyebrows, he gave a discreet shake of his head to signal to her not to make a big issue of the situation. Claws looked at Wind Talker and flinched. 'Sorry, I went into business mode. I didn't mean to step on your toes, Alpha.'
Wind Talker nodded and waved a hand, dismissing him. Claws got out of the car and Stalker climbed out over Weaver. They hurried down the street, Claws constantly looking around, he was good though, discreet. The street was deserted, as best Stalker could tell.
'I dread to think how high tensions are running in the car right now,' she whispered. Claws ignored her and kept walking. 'It's dead here,' she said, trying to draw something out of him. He glanced at her and nodded.
'Yeah, pretty much. This way.' He pointed across the street to a side road and led her up it. They circled around to check out the other side of the warehouse. There was a small car park, a battered old estate car and a newer white van sat empty near the main door to the building. Claws kept walking and Stalker scurried along after him. As they passed the front of the building, she saw a light on inside the front door and heard voices. They walked right past and Claws led them around the block and back towards the rear of the building. 'Okay, so there is little or no security on the outside, but who knows what the inside is like. There was no signage on the building or van, so it doesn't look like a legitimate business operates there. I'll bring the car around and stake out the front. Can you get up the fire escape and see what you can check out from up there?'
'Sure,' she replied. She smiled, she liked this side of Claws: the confident expert. He was growing into his shifter skin more and more now, but still sometimes seemed like the new boy. But here, in his PI world, he knew exactly what he was doing.
'Be careful,' he cautioned her, then they went their separate ways.
Stalker snuck up the passage at the side of the building and thought about shifting form. The place seemed private enough, but it was broad daylight and she couldn't entirely rule out the possibility of onlookers. So she moved quickly and quietly to the fire escape and grasped the ladder. It was old and rusted and she made her way carefully up, with it creaking slightly as she climbed. She got to the platform and edged over to a long, narrow window high up on the wall. She could just see inside, but it was quite dark, no lights were on and not much natural light made it into the building from these small windows.
The sound of a car approaching drew her attention, and she looked to see Claws pulling up about twenty meters away. She turned her attention back to the window. She could tell that she was looking onto a large, open area that was the height of the entire building. It looked like there was an interior wall towards the front of the building, where they had seen a light on. She got right up on her toes for a better look and peered down inside.
She saw rows of tables but no sign of people. She looked along the fire escape to the fire door at the end, it must open onto a raised platform at this end of the warehouse, but wouldn't open from the outside. Stalker sighed and made her way back down the fire escape. As her feet touched the ground, a car swept past and she darted away from the building and back to the car. She climbed into the back, Weaver had slid into the middle to make room for her.
'I didn't really learn anything,' Stalker said with a frustrated sigh.
'What's the plan? Do we just barge in there?' Weaver asked.
'No,' Claws replied. 'We should watch the place. In fact, this car full of people looks particularly dodgy. Maybe I should stake it out on my own for a bit. You guys go off and get some food or something.'
Stalker noticed Wind Talker tense slightly, his fingers flexed and he tilted his neck with a click.
'Yes, good idea,' he said stiffly. He opened his door and climbed out without looking back.
'Call us if anything changes,' Stalker urged. Claws nodded.
'Do me a favour,' he said quietly to her, as Weaver and Eyes slid out of the car. 'Call Ragged Edge, or someone, and give them these names.' He slid a folded piece of paper into her hand, she hurriedly unfolded it and saw two names scrawled in Claws' messy script.
'What's this?' she asked, her hand shaking slightly.
'Your birth parents' names.'
'How did you find them?'
'It's what I do,' he replied with a shrug.
'Is that why you're sending all of us away? To corner me into acting on this stuff?'
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head in consternation. She gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder, then followed the others out of the car.
'Come on,' Wind Talker said under his breath. 'Let's get out of here.' He led them away, towards the heart of St. Catherine's.
'Is it wise for us to be here, out in the open?' Eyes asked, looking around anxiously.
'I doubt any of the Knights can identify us and there are no shifters cla
iming the area. We should be fine,' Wind Talker said, bristling with frustration. He was trying so hard to claim the authority of an Alpha, but clearly Stalker wasn't the only one making it hard for him. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
She got out her phone and found Ragged Edge's number.
'I need to make a call, go on, I'll catch you up.' Weaver gave her a sly grin and Stalker shook her head. 'Stop it,' she hissed. The others walked on ahead at a brisk pace and she slowed down to make the call.
It rang a few times before Ragged Edge's gruff voice answered.
'Ariana? Everything okay?'
'Hi. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday.' She cringed as she said it. As if the days of the week meant anything to their kind, it's not like he worked Monday to Friday and this was his family time. Or maybe it was, maybe he had a family that no one knew about. 'I had a visit from an old family member that has kind of rattled me a bit. I really hoped we could meet up and talk about it, and about finding my birth parents, maybe?'
'I see,' he said slowly. 'Of course. Is it desperately urgent?'
'Well,' she faltered. Was it? 'He did go through hell in order to see me, so I'd say he thought so.'
Ragged Edge cleared his throat.
'Okay, well I can meet you briefly this afternoon.'
'That would be perfect, thank you. I'm actually in St. Catherine's now, so I could head in the direction of Old Town, if that's okay with you?'
'Good God, what are you doing in that hell hole?'
'Just chasing something up.' She smiled and heard him grunt.
'Fair enough. Don't come here, it's not a good time. I'll meet you at the cenotaph in the city centre in an hour. How does that sound?'
'Fine. See you then. Bye.'
Ragged Edge hung up without saying goodbye and Stalker chuckled. He didn't have the best of manners, but was one of her favourite people, nonetheless.
She ran to catch up with the others and linked arms with Weaver.
'Do you have a date?' Weaver whispered conspiratorially.
'Not remotely!' Stalker laughed. 'Wind Talker? I need to meet Ragged Edge after lunch. You'll be able to reach me on my phone if Claws needs us.'
She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of asking for his permission, she had never sought permission to act on personal business from her previous Alphas and wasn't about to start now. He gave a curt nod and she settled into her stride beside Weaver.
They found a greasy café and ate a quick and lively lunch. Stalker gave Weaver and Eyes brief hugs before leaving, not ashamed to exclude Wind Talker. Her brush with sympathy for him had repulsed her when she thought about what he had done. Maybe she was being childish, but she didn't care. She walked quickly down the street and joined a queue for a bus that went to the city centre. She would be cutting it fine, and really hoped that she wasn't called back to the pack.
The bus was crowded, and she had to stand near the front, pressed up against a student and a woman with bags of shopping. When the bus stopped near the central plaza, she hopped off and checked the time. She was a few minutes late and walked quickly past the fountain, fondly remembering the night they had filled it with washing up liquid and flowers. The cenotaph stood tall and proud in front of the museum, a pristine sandstone monument to Caerton's fallen soldiers.
Ragged Edge sat on the top step that surrounded the slender column, leaning heavily on his knees, his long, brown coat pooled around his feet. He looked up at her as she approached and got wearily to his feet. They grasped forearms in greeting and he pulled her into a warm embrace.
'How are you?' he asked as he released her.
'Not too bad, thank you. And yourself?'
'Still ticking, that's the main thing.'
'Why did you ask me to meet you here?' she asked, looking up at the immense column.
Ragged Edge chuckled and walked around the cenotaph, holding his palm an inch from the stone as he circled it. Stalker watched as his hand moved across the surface, and saw the faintest, shimmering shapes appear. She stepped closer and saw that they were shifter runes. She looked around in alarm at the people rushing past in all directions. A few cast furtive glances at her and Ragged Edge, but they all steered clear and no one spared the cenotaph a second glance. 'They can't see?'
'No, only we can.' He stopped beside her and indicated for her to take a closer look. She moved up onto the top step and peered at the tiny runes. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of markings, neatly inscribed in rows. There at the bottom, the last figures added, were the runes for “shadow” and “walk”, Shadow's Step. She looked at Ragged Edge, a muscle in her cheek twitching.
'Why are you showing me this?'
'You're one of Odin's Warriors. One day your name will be on there. It's important that you know about this. We are the soldiers that they will never recognise.' He jerked his head towards the humans passing them. 'We deserve a place of honour too. We protect them as much as any human soldier sent to war. This is no Scroll Archive, not a detailed record of every shifter's life and death, this is a simple memorial for Odin's Warriors.'
'How do you know about the Scroll Archive?' she asked, her curiosity piqued.
'I'm old, I've heard things over the years,' he replied with a smile. Stalker returned it and sat down on the step, her back to the depressingly long list of fallen Berserkers. He sat down beside her. 'This is a key part of our ethos, we honour the dead, we honour history and ancestry. Remember I asked you about that when we first met?'
'Yes,' she replied in a whisper. She had no idea then what she was really getting into. She was freshly changed and firmly under her guardian's wing. 'That's what my ancestor's ghost reminded me of. He accused me of forgetting where I came from and neglecting my duties.'
'I see. And this ghost crossed the veil to see you?'
'That's right.' She looked at him, his face was twisted into a severe frown. 'What?'
'That shouldn't be possible. Obviously ghosts do sometimes find their way here, or fail to find their way to the Underworld in the first place, but for one to deliberately open a door in the veil and cross into the world of the living is unheard of.'
'At the Danegeld we were told that the dead weren't moving on properly. Could this be connected? Maybe there's a weakness in the veil?'
'Possibly.'
'Could it be because of the King-of-Glass-and-Steel being missing?' she asked cautiously. Ragged Edge cleared his throat and shifted his weight.
'Possibly.'
'Sorry to bring that up,' Stalker said softly.
'Not at all, it's fine. Now then, do you know the names of your birth parents?'
'I do now,' she replied, passing him the paper. 'I was handed this paper right before I called you. It's the only information I have. Jane White and Malcolm Slater. My adoptive parents always told me that they never had any contact with my birth parents, never saw a birth certificate. I had been left in a care home, then bounced around a few foster homes before I was adopted.'
Ragged Edge looked at the names and ran a finger over them slowly.
'Do you know them?' Stalker asked.
'No, at least not by these names.'
'I was adopted and raised in another city, it's probable that they were never in Caerton.'
'Or maybe they were and took you away to leave you. There is a reason for you being here, there are no coincidences.' He stood and turned to the column. He placed a hand on it and leaned so close that his lips were almost touching it as he spoke. Stalker got up and moved close enough to hear him whispering the names she had given him. The runes flared bright white for a moment, then settled back to their pale, shimmering state. Ragged Edge looked over them carefully, then shook his head.
'Nothing?' Stalker asked.
He leaned close again and whispered something else that she couldn't make out. Again the runes flared up and died down again.
'It was worth a try, I wasn't sure how sophisticated these records were. It looks as though we need their shifter
names, I tried the human name of a friend who I know to be recorded on here, and the cenotaph didn't recognise that one either.'
He examined the paper again and Stalker watched him carefully, curious to know what he was thinking.
'I'll ask Claws for more information, where these names came from for starters.'
'Where did your name come from?' the elder asked abruptly.
'Excuse me?'
'Did your adoptive parents give it to you? Or did you come with it?'
Stalker tried not to be offended by his flippant disregard for her humanity.
'It was the name on the adoption certificate. My adoptive parents didn't choose it.'
'Your birth parents gave you a completely new name, not one of theirs. They were trying to hide you. I would love to know why.' He regarded her carefully. Stalker swallowed against a hard lump in her throat.
'I don't know why.'
'Why are you lying to me, girl?'
Stalker blanched and stared at him.
'I'm not. I don't know why they wanted to hide me, I don't know anything about them. That's why I came to you, I need your help if I am to stand any hope of living up to the oaths I made.'
He grunted and relaxed a little.
'Can I keep this?' he asked, holding up the piece of paper.
'Sure.'
'I'll see what I can find out. There might be something in the Scroll Archive, so if you have access to it, I suggest you use it.'
'Thank you,' she said curtly, still feeling defensive from his sudden change in demeanour.
'If you think of anything I ought to know, you can tell me.' His voice was softer and his eyes crinkled kindly.
'Okay,' she replied, nodding. He pulled her into a tight embrace and she patted his back as her cheeks flushed.
'Take care, now,' he said, and he stomped away with a slight limp.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was sunset when Stalker arrived back in St. Catherine's and met up with the rest of the pack. Weaver greeted her with a hug.
'Everything okay?' she asked softly.
'Fine, just trying to find my parents. I need to get access to the Scroll Archive. What do you think the chances are of Scribe letting me in?'