by Amos Cassidy
“HELP!”
Faye frowned. “What are you, deaf? There’s no use in shouting. No one can hear you.”
“HELP! PLEASE! SOMEONE!”
Faye rolled her eyes.
“HELP!”
“For fuck’s sake,” Faye huffed. “You’re doing my head in!” She threw out her free hand and silver silk hit Flo in the mouth, gagging her. “There, much better, don’t you think?” She addressed a distressed Erin. “I don’t know about you but I was beginning to have trouble concentrating”
“BOG OFF!” Erin lunged, sinking his teeth into her hand.
“You little shit!” She slapped him hard across the face, knocking his head back and bringing tears to his eyes. Erin blinked, glaring at her with loathing– he refused to cry.
Flo let out a muffled roar, her useless struggle to protect her son visible in her blazing eyes.
Erin stood bravely, his face red and raw from the hard slap. “I hate you!” he cried and delivered a hard kick to Faye’s shin.
Faye slapped him again. “Behave!”
Erin’s nose started to bleed.
“Oh, look, the blood goes with your costume.” Faye giggled. “Say thank you, Faye.”
Erin glared at her, teeth gritted against the pain.
Faye sighed. “Kid’s today, eh? No manners. Now, let’s get this over with.” She spun him around aggressively to face the mirror. “You’re going for a little ride,” she said in a baby-talk voice. “Someone is waiting for you on the other side. Ready?”
Erin glanced at his mum, immobile and unable to help him and the dam holding back his tears broke. “MUM!” His cry was cut short as Faye scooped him up at the waist and threw him into the mirror.
Roman was walking back to his house. His mum was taking too long to sort herself out. It was his job to convince her she looked great and get her to the party before she turned into a pumpkin or however that story ended. Besides if he didn’t hurry, Mr McIntire might just get a permanent crick in his neck from watching the door.
He’d passed a couple of kids trick or treating and scared a couple of other kids along the way to his house. On the porch he pulled off the wolf mask, shaking out his hair. Damn it was hot in that thing!
He drew in the cold refreshing air and stiffened as the overpowering scent of flowers assaulted his senses– scent of flowers gone bad, sickly and nauseating. Alarm bells went off inside his head and he fumbled with his keys, pushed open the door, rushed in and stopped. The mirror was alive, eating something. He saw legs, a body being swallowed, splatters of crimson on the laminate floor and luminous emerald eyes alight with fire.
“Oh, hi,” Faye said as she spotted him. Then she casually shoved Flo’s feet through the mirror. “What are you doing home? Wouldn’t have Rose with you at all would you? It would really make my life easier.”
“What the fuck is going on?” His instincts thrummed with the awareness of danger but his human mind struggled to comprehend the scene.
Faye rolled her eyes and sighed. “Well, I’m not explaining it now.” She walked up to him hastily and he was assaulted by the scent again, dying flowers. He gagged.
“What…what are you?” Because it was obvious to him by now that whatever stood before him was not human.
Faye smiled sweetly before plunging a silver blade deep into his shoulder.
40.
THE SILVER CAGE
The wolf inside him was ablaze with fury. It clawed at his insides, needing to be released, needing vengeance. But he couldn’t set the wolf free, no matter how much it wanted out. He was surrounded by silver rays of light lancing down around him, boxing him in. They hurt to look at, they hurt to touch. He was trapped in a cage of light. Shackles of silver fixed over his wrists and ankles and fastened securely to the rocky ceiling and floor, stung and irritated his flesh. He was half-naked. His jacket, top and socks had been removed. All he had were his jeans, torn and dirty from the brutal attack in which he had tried to fight back.
Raven could barely see through the blinding silver light, but he could just about make out a figure standing beyond his prison. Through the constant thrum and burn of the silver that took away his strength, and through the ever howling, needful cries of the wolf, he wondered if the figure was him. In less than a moment his question was answered as the silver light abruptly dimmed. And there he was.
Ossian stood before the cage, looking at the man he was responsible for incarcerating. The Beta werewolf. He had achieved his goal, succeeded in the task he had been instructed to perform. And the task was necessary, so much depended on its success. And so he could do little but quietly suffer the pangs of guilt.
He reached out a hand and touched the silver cage. The light dimmed substantially, and Raven’s eyes focused intently on him– eyes that were of the same vibrancy and shade of the cage, eyes that blazed with unadulterated rage.
Ossian had picked up the vibe of danger that radiated from Raven on the few occasions he had been close to him, but now the vibe had been replaced by a seething pulse of fury. The danger was no longer cloaked. It was now a beacon of intent, screaming from every taunt muscle and stretched sinew of the werewolf’s form. Ossian was thankful that the silver shackles still held his captive so securely.
“You,” Raven said weakly, his tone laced with vitriol. “So you finally show your real face.” Raven studied the man before him with a narrowed gaze.
The long black hair had been replaced by a sheet of luxurious silver tresses, set against incandescent skin, which rivalled the purest rays of the moon. His eyes, which had been a startling violet, had deepened to a unique, captivating amethyst and sparkled like two precious jewels. The student Ossian was truly gone, replaced by a treacherous fey. Cloaked in glamour he had been beautiful to behold, but stripped of it he transcended beauty, defying the laws of perfection as did the most seductive of the fey.
Raven glared at him, his lip curling in disgust. He knew of the fey, a mishmash of stories and myth. He knew that seduction was but a weapon to the creatures and that under their perfect skin their hearts were untouchable, their alliances borne of self service and ambition. It was no revelation that they had been unable to last as part of a unified supernatural council, their interests laying only in their own survival. Richard had intimated that the council had breathed easy once the strange creatures had retreated back to their sidhes, deciding to live out their days as recluses in the realm beyond the mist, the land of Fairie.
“How are you feeling?” Ossian asked gently, dragging Raven from his thoughts.
“How do you think?” He was exhausted and in pain. But it didn’t stop him from keeping his tone as cold as ice as he focused his very will on Ossian, making sure his gaze never strayed from the fey.
“I’m sorry you have to suffer like this, but silver is the only thing that will hold you.”
“Coward.”
“There was no other way.” Ossian’s brow creased in a slight frown.
“Coward.”
“I don’t enjoy seeing anyone in pain. But precautions have to be in place. I’ve dimmed the bars so it shouldn’t hurt as much.”
Raven ignored what he’d said. There was no way he was going to appear even remotely grateful for the reprieve. “Do you have Thistle too?”
Ossian shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”
Raven closed his eyes briefly biting back a curse. He had hoped that this capture may be unrelated, hoped it wasn’t a small part of a bigger plan. Now his worst fears were being confirmed. “What have you done to her?”
“She’s safe.”
Raven continued to watch Ossian closely and was surprised to see what looked like sorrow flit across the fey’s face. For a moment those brilliant eyes dimmed as if a shadow had passed over the moon.
“Is she in pain?” Raven demanded.
Again, Ossian didn’t answer straight away and when he did it was only to repeat that Thistle was safe.
“You didn’t answer my question. Is she in
pain?”
Ossian cocked his head to one side. “I do not feel what she feels. I am unable to tell you more than that she is safe.”
Raven and Ossian held one other’s gaze, eyes locked together. Ossian wanted to break the contact but Raven held fast. He wanted Ossian to feel intimidated. It was the only thing he could do seeing as he couldn’t drive his fist through that perfect face. “Where is Brandon?”
Ossian looked away. “He’s safe.”
Raven growled, using what little strength he had to pull on the chains. “Where is he?”
“He’s-”
Raven rattled the chains, pulling himself forward, almost touching the dim bars of light. “Don’t say he’s safe. Don’t say Thistle is safe.”
“As you wish.”
Raven’s lip curled, his expression deadly. “You are really beautiful,” he said bitterly. “Even under glamour, you are breath-taking. But I do like you this way, much, much, hotter.” His mouth twisted in a grin that was part grimace. Self-loathing at the attraction he felt for this creature mingled with a desire to throw his captor off balance.
“Stop it.” Ossian took a small step back from the cage.
“I mean it, you are very sexy.”
Ossian was silent.
The grin on Raven’s face was gone. “You used things on me. You used your fey tricks to mess with my head. All I could think about was you. I dreamt about you, thought about what it would be like to kiss you and to fuck you. And that night when you came to the party and ignored me it drove me over the edge. I needed to feel better about myself so I slept with Brandon, someone who felt about me the way you made me feel about you. And I hurt him. I hurt a kind, sweet man because I wanted to feel better about myself after realising you had no interest. But you did. You had a lot of interest in me. What was that cologne? It drove me crazy.”
“Raven.” Ossian held up his hand as if to stall him.
Raven ignored him and continued. “Did you know all along that I would end up with Brandon like that? Does your little fey magic have the power to foresee that? Or are you as manipulative, clever and conniving as your reputation indicates? You used him to get to me, whatever your reasons are for wanting me. You preyed on him just like you preyed on me. Why?”
“You hurt him. He was in need of a friend.”
“And there you were.” Raven said, every word laced with anger.
“We all have to do what we have to.”
“Why did you have to do what you did?” Raven asked mockingly.
Ossian shook his head.
“Come on, what is so special about me, Thistle and Brandon? What is so important?”
Ossian turned away. “I’ll leave the lights dim.”
“NO!” Raven lurched forward, the chains squealing with the force. “Put them up again. I’d rather that than have to see your face.”
“Raven…”
Raven growled low in his chest, the wolf skimming the surface. “Don’t say my name. I’m getting out of this cage, and when I do, I’m going to make you suffer.”
Ossian’s expression was suddenly blank.
“You will pay for all of this, for Thistle, for Brandon, for messing with my head and for chaining me up like a helpless dog. Believe me, you will pay.”
“I’ll leave the lights dim.”
“Get away from me,” Raven said coldly.
“It won’t hurt as much if I leave them dim.”
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Raven threw himself forward. His face hit the silver light and his head snapped back. He lost his balance and fell to his knees with a hard thud. The shackles on his wrists ate into his skin as he roared and pulled on them, blood running down his arms.
Ossian moved closer. Raven stopped, breathing heavily. He slowly lifted his head, a raw red mark like a slash across his face. “Put the lights up and get the fuck away from me,” he said through gritted teeth.
Ossian hesitated, and then nodded backing away from him.
The silver lights of the cage were gloriously bright once more.
41.
BEYOND THE MIRROR
Rose glanced at her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. The party was truly underway and the DJ was giving the crowd what they wanted in a back to back collage of disco classics.
“Rose? Any sign of them yet?” Dracula asked politely.
Rose shook her head. “No, Mr McIntire. I tried calling Roman’s mobile but he’s not answering, and there’s no answer on the house phone either.”
Mr McIntire frowned. He was a solidly built, stocky man with warm brown eyes and only a slight paunch. He made a novel looking Dracula. “Maybe they’re on their way here?”
“Maybe.” Rose agreed, shooting him a quick smile. He was right. They could be on their way. But then why was Roman not answering his mobile? Pack members always answered their mobiles, the fact that he wasn’t was not a good sign. Plus, she had an awful queasy feeling in her stomach, a feeling that said something was wrong. “I’ll wait ten minutes and try again.”
“Let me know. I can give them a lift if they’ve not left yet.”
“I will.”
“Mr McIntire?” A dainty ballerina interrupted, who, on closer inspection, turned out to be a slender woman with an abundance of crow’s feet and laugh lines which her expertly applied makeup still failed to conceal. Rose put her age around her mid- forties.
Mr McIntire turned to the woman. “Ah, Mrs Howe.”
“I was wondering if I could have a word about the new proposal for an Area Crime Watch.” Mrs Howe babbled.
Mr McIntire smiled politely. “Oh come, Mrs Howe. Tonight is a time for fun and dancing, and we can discuss the proposal at the next meeting.”
“But, Mr McIntire-”
“I insist.” He said firmly.
Mrs Howe opened her mouth to protest but was distracted by a beefy hand on her shoulder.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” said a deep, meaty voice. “Isn’t this your favourite song?” Carwash by Rolls Royce was playing and the dance floor was heaving.
“Mr Howe.” Mr McIntire greeted the new arrival. “I was just telling your lovely wife that shop talk can wait until the next meeting, and that she should go have fun.”
Mr Howe looked reproachfully at his wife. “Now, sweetheart, we discussed this. All work and no play…”
Mrs Howe held up her hands. “All right, all right, let’s dance.” She allowed herself to be led away.
Mr McIntire turned to Rose rolling his eyes. “That woman is a workaholic. Since the last of her four children flew the nest she’s enlisted herself with four charities, holds a part-time job and is on the neighbourhood committee.”
“It must be hard to dedicate your life to your kids and to find that one day your purpose for living no longer needs you like they used to.” Rose sympathised.
“Yes, which is why we have made it our mission to get the lady to have some fun, to relax and enjoy her freedom. God knows the Howe’s can afford it.” He scanned the room as he spoke, his eyes wandering to the entrance. He frowned. “Maybe you should give Flo another call.”
“Mr McIntire!” Someone called from across the room.
“Excuse me, Rose. I’ll just be a moment.”
Rose flipped open her mobile and dialled the house number. The phone rang once twice, three times. After the tenth ring Rose hung up.
Fuck this, something wasn’t right!
By the time Rose reached Flo’s the queasy feeling in her stomach had intensified to include a dull ache. As she climbed the steps to the porch she felt a charge of adrenaline, her body’s way of warning her to fight or flee. The front door was ajar and as she reached for it with hesitant fingers, a tinkling laugh filled the air around her, caressing her like an icy hand and pulling goose bumps from her skin. For a spilt second she considered turning away, because she knew, with a primitive certainty from deep within, that whatever lay behind the door was ten times worse than anything she had encountered
so far. She considered the option for a fraction of a second and discarded it. No way was she walking away. Flo, Erin and Roman were in there and she was a lot of things, but a coward was not one of them. Squaring her shoulders she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The hallway was shrouded in shadows, someone had turned out the lights, and silence reigned. Heart thudding hard in her chest, she took a step forward and then another.
“Flo?” she called out, tentatively at first, and then when there was no response, with more volume. “Flo!” She could see the glow from the kitchen lights and was drawn toward it. Her foot slid from under her as she slipped on something and went down on her arse. “Shit!” She cursed then started as a shadow blocked the light.
“Finally! I haven’t got all night you know.” Faye stood in the kitchen doorway, hand on hip.
“Faye…what the hell is going on? Where is everybody?” Rose squinted, the backlight from the kitchen making it hard for her to see her friend’s face.
“Everyone’s at the party, they’re all waiting for you.” Faye said sweetly. “And I love the outfit, Krystal.”
Rose pulled herself up, reaching for the nearest light switch to illuminate the hallway.
“They haven’t turned up. I came back to check.” She flipped the switch, bathing the hallway in bright light, and turned back to her friend. “And what are you…” the words dried up in her mouth because although the woman standing before her wore Faye’s body, Faye’s smile and even adopted Faye’s manner of standing, she wasn’t Faye, couldn’t be Faye. There was an aura about her, an aura of power, of ageless confidence, and…she was glowing like a hundred watt bulb.
“You like the new look?” The woman who called herself Faye gave a little twirl. “Or should I say old look?” She frowned. “Never mind, it’s not important now. What is important is that we get to the party.” She clapped her hands with glee. “It’s going to be so much fun!”