by Petra Landon
He spoke under his breath, and a few Shifters poured in to take a stand behind and beside the eight Were-Alphas ranged in a line. Suddenly, the foyer seemed uncomfortably crowded, where before it had merely been full. It was twilight now, but the Wizards could still see the swelling numbers camped outside on their front lawn.
“The time for talking is over” the Alpha declared.
He ignored the still seated Anderson and the Wizards arraigned around him to turn to Sebastian Thorne and his Guardians. “Which shall it be, Guardian? Anderson or a fight?”
Thorne glanced at the Shifters in the hall, and the ready hordes he could see on the grounds. This was Wizard Headquarters, and the Wizards far outnumbered the Shifter army the Alpha had brought with him. But even outnumbered, the Shifters were formidable in a fight. To him, they were blood-thirsty savages looking for an excuse to brawl, that reveled in close physical encounters where their strength gave them a decided advantage over their opponents. And, they were thirsty for revenge. There would be no satisfying them tonight, not without giving Anderson up. And, truth be told, Thorne found himself astounded by the Alpha’s many revelations about Ted Anderson. It was clear that Anderson had been searching for a dead comrade’s daughter with rather brutal methods. When the trail had taken him to San Francisco, throwing his ambitions in the orbit of the Alpha who controlled the city, Anderson had attempted to get rid of the Shifter. For the first time, Thorne found himself silently agreeing with the Vampire Mistress. Anderson had seemingly gone off the reservation, while a GCW, mired in its own issues, had taken its eye off the ball in spectacular fashion. But now, Anderson’s antics had brought a powerful Alpha with a Shifter army to their door. Thorne realized, to his dismay, that even after Anderson was punished for his crimes, it might not be enough. After tonight, the GCW’s reputation would lie in tatters.
“Take Anderson” Sebastian Thorne directed.
The Guardians around him and the Wizards in the hall did not protest, for they knew Anderson and circumstances had left the GCW with little choice.
But the Wizards that formed Anderson’s posse protested. “If one of ours has committed a crime, Guardian Thorne, and we’re not convinced that has been proven beyond doubt, then it is the GCW that should punish him.”
Ignoring Anderson’s Wizards, Raoul turned to beckon his Shifters forward. The way he saw it, the Guardians had given up Anderson into Shifter custody.
Anderson smirked tellingly, something Raoul missed, since his back was to the Guardian.
A couple of muted pings rang out in rapid succession, just as the Alpha turned back to face the seated Anderson.
Raoul staggered as the bullets thudded into his shoulder and chest in quick succession, before righting himself. For an instant, caught by surprise, no one said anything. Then, a few things happened in rapid succession.
Faoladh leapt for the First Wizard, moving preternaturally fast to sweep her unceremoniously out of the way of the hail of bullets. Hawk fell over Tasia, using his body to shield her. Her line of sight now impeded, all Tasia could hear was a chorus of jumbled and raised voices. She heard someone call out to Sienna in alarm, running feet thudding past her, David Hamilton’s horrified exclamation, the Vampire Mistress’ tinkling and rather amused laugh, some screams and cries of ‘bullets’ and ‘silver’, followed by jostling and angry demands from the Shifters.
Through it all, she heard someone scream out in a commanding voice. “Stop! Stop shooting! I command you to stop shooting.”
When a few minutes later, Hawk turned his head cautiously to glance at where the Alpha had last been standing, Tasia was able to take a peek herself. The Alpha still stood by the table but now he was surrounded by some of his Were-Alphas. They obscured her view of him, but Tasia could see Duncan, Luis and Elisabetta around the Alpha. Roman Durovic, also part of the group around the Alpha, with a determined-looking Atsá beside him, angrily demanded an explanation from Sebastian Thorne. DiZeyla now stood with Faoladh, the First Wizard and Herabudh, who’d all come to their feet. Jason had rushed over to Sienna’s side. Tasia also noted the First Wizard’s anxious eyes wander over to Sienna, who shared the couch with Hawk and her.
“What are they doing?” Sienna whispered to Jason.
“Thorne has lost control of the Wizards.” Jason shook his head, his anxiety clear as he glanced at David Hamilton. The other Wizard’s expression clearly reflected Jason’s alarm.
The foyer thrummed with tension. The kindling was now ready to light. The slightest spark would set it on fire, and the resulting blaze would damage more than just the relationship between the Wizards and the Pack. It would create a fissure the Chosen would have a hard time righting — one that might take down the GCW. The Shifters had come in numbers to support their Alpha, and if the Guardians were unable to control the Wizards gathered here, then blood would be shed at Wizard Headquarters tonight — a shame after the diplomatic victory the Alpha had won by persuading the GCW to hand over a Guardian for trial.
Sebastian Thorne, who had screamed the order to stop, turned to the Alpha. The Shifters around the Alpha looked furious, Tasia could see. Duncan, never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, looked murderous as he stared down the Guardians. Before tonight, Tasia had never seen Duncan look like he meant business. Even when he’d come for an unconscious Alpha after the episode in the cage, he had merely been grim. Tonight, Duncan looked like he might single-handedly tear through the Wizards in the hall, without any semblance of restraint.
“What is the meaning of this, Guardian Thorne?” It was Roman Durovic who asked the question. “Why do your Wizards shoot at the Alpha, after you’ve agreed to hand over the Guardian into his custody?” he demanded authoritatively.
For the first time, Tasia could appreciate that Roman Durovic would one day lead a major faction of the First Ones in North America. He stood tall to confidently and authoritatively confront the Guardians for reneging on their word. Where the local leaders like DiZeyla and David Hamilton had removed themselves from the fray, rightly realizing that the situation was beyond their influence, Roman Durovic had stepped forward to confront the Guardians by the Alpha’s side.
“I apologize on behalf of the Guardians” Thorne admitted, a little pale himself. “The order to shoot did not come from the GCW” Thorne began, but the Alpha raised a hand to stop him.
When he turned to face the Guardian, Tasia could see the sluggish patches of blood on the pristine white shirt. He had eschewed his usual tee to wear a shirt for the occasion, a nod to the visit to Wizard Headquarters. Her heart lurched abruptly, missing a beat. If his wounds still bled, it meant that the bullets had been contaminated with silver. She felt a frisson of fear clutch her heart — he’d barely healed from his previous brush with silver.
“Don’t worry, Tas” Hawk assured her softly, mistaking her sudden alarm as concern for the precarious situation confronting them.
That was the moment Anderson had been waiting for. While the Alpha confronted Sebastian Thorne, he and those around him were distracted. Anderson, across the table from the Alpha and hitherto silent, chose that moment to stand up and plunge a knife into the Shifter’s chest. If the Alpha’s superhuman reflexes had not been blunted by the silver roiling in him, it was doubtful that the knife would even have touched him. But he was weakened, not only by the fresh silver in his blood, but also by the remnants from before. Yet, he was still able to raise his left arm to block the strike, leaving Anderson to drive the knife into his upper bicep.
The Alpha roared, the sound so deafening that the chandelier above his head shook with a tinkling sound, the noise lost amidst the chorus of shouts, demands and outrage from both Shifters and Wizards alike.
Driven by instinct, Tasia pushed against Hawk, her own scream drowned out by Sienna’s beside her. That was his beast, Tasia knew. That sound of an animal in agony was not the Alpha.
Hawk tried to gently but firmly hold her as she struggled madly against him. This time, he did not mistake her
intentions.
“He can take care of himself” he assured her. He hugged her closer. “You cannot get in the middle of that, Tas” he whispered into her ear.
As the Alpha’s roar died away, even while the echoes still reverberated in the dome-shaped foyer, the Shifters surged forward en masse, unrestrained and uncaring of anything except teaching the Wizards a lesson. To them, this was a supreme betrayal, a literal knife in the back. The Shifters would not forgive the Guardians for this — one set of Guardians negotiated in good faith with the Alpha, while the second mounted a sneaky attack from the back. Convinced that the Guardians had never intended to give up one of their own to the Pack, the Shifters now had no desire to negotiate anymore.
From the cacophony rose an ear-splitting crash, heralding the shattering of glass. Shards from the large windows rained down on the floor. Those standing by the windows scattered to get out of the way. Shifters leapt athletically into the hall through the windows, while others swarmed in through the entrance to join the angry mob moving deeper into the foyer to confront the Wizards. The horde of Shifters gathered on the grounds had not waited to come in through the door. Some had simply leapt into the room, smashing through the windows in their eagerness to join the brawl. Within seconds, even as the chandelier over their heads still swayed gently from the Alpha’s roar, the hall was full of advancing Shifters, even as those still outside pushed their way in.
As his Shifters swarmed around him, to sweep deeper into the hall, Raoul did nothing to stop them. Instead, he turned to Duncan and Luis.
“I want Anderson alive” he gritted out through the burning agony in his arm, where the silver had started to mingle with his blood.
Despite the Wizards’ betrayal and the Guardians’ bad-faith negotiation, Raoul didn’t intend for Anderson to die at his Shifters’ hands. After the tedious charade he’d just gone through, he was determined that Anderson would be tried and punished publicly by the CoC. No Chosen would point fingers at the Pack, not after his negotiation with the GCW to ensure that did not happen. He knew that his Shifters would not fatally injure any Wizards. They were all seasoned Wyrs he’d brought with him, and knew how to inflict damage without serious injury. But Anderson would not be spared for his actions — all bets were off when it came to the quisling Guardian.
Luis and Duncan wasted no time in jumping into the fray to stand guard by Anderson, already struggling to hold off an onslaught of Shifters with his Wizards ranged around him. Not that either Shifter sacrificed any chance to beat up on the Wizards. They just made sure that Anderson was not completely outnumbered or in fatal danger from the surging Shifters. For once, the Shifters in the foyer did not care who they pounded on, as long as it was a Wizard. At this point, it was a free for all against any Wizards they could get their hands on for betraying their Alpha and them, once again.
At first, the Wizards stood stunned and unmoving, as the swarming Shifters swept deeper into the hall towards them. The brazen stabbing of the Alpha, leading to the Shifters breaking into their Headquarters, many by demolishing the beautiful bay windows, had caught them by surprise. Despite the tension in the air from the start of this confrontation, no one had expected an actual physical altercation. This building housed their Headquarters, the Wizard seat of power and a symbol of their prestige and influence in the Chosen world. No Wizard could imagine an onslaught like this here, of all places. It felt like a strike into the heart of every Wizard.
The swarming Shifters reached the foot of the staircase, and suddenly, the Wizards found themselves cut off from their leaders — the Guardians surrounding Sebastian Thorne. A Wizard cried out sharply. It was the sign the others had been waiting for. They surged forward to engage the baying Shifter army, driven by a combination of adrenaline, shock, pack mentality and peer pressure. Within seconds, it was a brawl. The Shifters pummeled their hapless opponents. The Wizards’ enthusiasm was of little match against the Shifters’ brute strength and thirst for revenge. They were soon on the defensive. In the cramped quarters, Wizard magic was of little use, but some attempted to deploy their magic anyway, frantic against the rampaging Shifters.
A middle-aged Wizard flew through the air with a cry. His comrades tried to stop his acrobatics. Tiny sparks lit up the air as a few Wizards attempted to use their magic in a desperate bid to push back the advancing Shifters. A few Shifters went down temporarily, but so did a fair number of Wizards. A crack rent the air as one of the carved balustrades on the grand staircase snapped under a Shifter’s brutal fist. Thin white dust floated into the air like a fine mist, obscuring the vision of the panting and panicked Wizards. Not so for the Shifters, who reached out to pound on the unfortunate Wizards some more. Some coughed as the dust seemed to swirl in the air before settling down, even as more sparks from increasingly powerful magic seemed to light up various parts of the room. The mass of Wizards on the staircase found themselves swept up into the first floor as more Shifters charged up the stairs, fists flying indiscriminately. The staircase groaned from the hits, like a living entity bemoaning the wanton destruction of Wizard influence and power.
Gradually, as the battle intensified and the Wizards’ desperation heightened, more blinding flashes lit up the foyer, along with the crunch of glass underfoot and the bits and pieces of wall and staircase that had crumbled under the Shifters’ assault. Even conducted mostly in silence, the sound was deafening in the circular foyer, the high vaunted ceiling amplifying everything like an echo chamber.
While Chosen in the hall were either blinded by the sparks from the clashing of powerful magic or deafened by the din from the battles being fought, Tasia felt like her whole body was on fire. The agony burned through her, like molten fire screaming through her veins to leave her fighting to not give vent to her pain. Crying out would draw attention to her, so Tasia fought to mute her cries and gasps of agony. What was going on, she wondered dazedly. Could her sensitivity to magic in the air make her skin feel like being pricked simultaneously with a thousand cuts. Tasia had never been in the presence of such sustained bursts of magic. Not all the magic tonight was powerful. But collectively, they packed quite a punch. That must be it, she told herself, as each tiny bit of magic seemed to strike her heightened senses like pieces of shrapnel. Buffeted by pain, Tasia shuddered uncontrollably, fighting to control her reaction. It would not do for anyone to suspect her ability to sense a Chosen’s power, she reminded herself in a litany as she struggled to rise above the pain. Hawk, realizing that she was in trouble, clasped her close, wrapping himself more protectively around her, afraid to draw attention to them but to little avail. Hawk felt a wave of helplessness sweep over him as he watched Tasia struggle in his arms.
Once confident that his beast was not resurgent, Raoul turned his attention to where Mistress Franciszka was seated. None of the Chosen accompanying him tonight gave him even momentary cause for concern. Now that the situation had spun out of control, they would step back and allow him to handle it. But not Franciszka. She would love to add her own spice to the chaos. He’d have to control her, Raoul knew. He was the only one who could. As he had suspected, the Mistress was itching to join the fray. He was glad to note that her entourage of four Vampires, had not breached etiquette. They still waited outside for their Mistress’ command. Both David Hamilton and Jason LaRue had made valiant efforts to restrain the Mistress with their arguments, but they were losing.
“Franciszka” Raoul called to her, through the burning agony in his arm. He didn’t have to expel much effort — she’d hear him fine, despite the din. The leeches’ hearing rivalled that of the Shifters.
The Mistress looked at him. He stared her down with pain-filled eyes, his body in agony from the fresh silver roiling in his blood and the knife still struck in his arm.
“I will remember if you renege on your word, Franciszka” he gritted out through the pain. “You’re not here to quench your thirst for blood.”
For a moment, she looked mutinous at the reminder. Then, she subsid
ed with a pout. Raoul had been counting on her to remember his stark and blunt warning when he’d invited her to San Diego. This meeting was a trial for her. Her ability to keep to terms would spur Raoul’s decision on whether to recommend her to the local Chosen Alliance. Franciszka knew the Alpha would not give her a second chance. And Franciszka, of all the leeches, had personal experience with what he would do to her if she double-crossed him. The lesson from a night when he’d reduced her to a puddle of quivering and pain-wracked screams on the floor of her own nest, in the teeth of her army of Pure Bloods, had not been forgotten in a hurry. And ultimately, the memory of that lesson made her subside.
Raoul glanced from the Mistress to the couch beside her where Sienna sat frozen with an expression of stupefied shock on her face, while Hawk’s body covered Tasia. Something about the way Hawk leant over her had him frowning, his senses attempting instinctively to read her like he was usually able to. With the silver in him though, all he could tell was that she was struggling too, much like him.
“Hawk” he said softly. As Hawk turned towards him, Tasia glanced up to meet his eyes. Despite the agony of the poison in him, he could see the pain, struggle and confusion in her expressive eyes. The gold eyes, burning with agony, tangled with hers.
Hang on. I’ve got this.
Though he could not sense what troubled her, he instinctively tried to reassure her. She took a deep breath to give him a nod. She would be okay. Raoul turned away, back to the pitched battle raging around him. Much later, he was to realize that he hadn’t spoken the words aloud, but somehow, she’d read his message loud and clear.
As her initial shock wore off, the First Wizard turned urgently to Faoladh. All around her, the sounds of furious skirmishes rent the air, the Shifters’ blood lust finally let loose.
“No, Esmeralda.” Faoladh shook his head firmly before she could say anything. “Your Guardians need this lesson. There are consequences to their actions. I won’t stop Raoul.”