by Leela Ash
Griffin’s ears plastered themselves against his body and his hare teeth ground. The ‘old witch’ must be Mrs. Grey. They’d burned her face just for fun. That casual malice eased any guilt he felt for the violence he was about to inflict on these bastards. In fact, it put Scar-Face on the top of the ‘To Kill’ list.
Once more they resumed their casual scans of the horizon. A guy (whom Griffin dubbed ‘the Whiner’) still wasn’t happy, however. “You don’t think we’ll stay here long, do you?”
Scarface sneered. “I wouldn’t count on seeing a clean bed anytime soon.”
Groans met that statement, from all of the men. A handful of curses, too. “Hey,” a third man snapped, “get comfortable. If this is what the Boss is looking for, we’ll be here for months.”
Time Griffin couldn’t give them. Seventeen people lived in this tiny hamlet. Most of them were elderly Diné, or ‘Navajo’ as Anglos called them. Quiet, peaceful, kind people. The only folks in this world who’d offered him shelter and kindness.
Now they all slept, locked in some unbreakable slumber. One that had to be linked to that hellhole up in the rocks.
He needed to break the spell that held them. Now, not a few months from now. No magic would keep them alive that long. Already the weakest of them, Old Man Yazzie, was having trouble breathing.
So quit wasting time. Take these SOBs out already.
To do that, he needed to know his enemies. Belly to the ground, Griffin watched them. How each man stood. The way they leaned, moved. The sound of their voices. Building a mental picture of his foes.
Not a perfect one – but good enough for what he had in mind.
Still unnoticed, Griffin scuttled into the brush and then loped around to the back of Stillwater where a pair of outhouses stood. A pile of rusty paint cans stood stacked beside it. With one flick of his hind legs, he sent them clattering across the dirt.
Nothing happened. No shouts or cries. Supernatural events might unnerve them, but these guys were professionals.
Good. He was counting on that.
Once more he shot through the bushes, a tiny, unseen blur of fur, back towards the SUVs. As he rounded Mrs. Grey’s house, he spotted his mercs. As he’d hoped, three advanced towards that noise, passing through the village with a quick, thorough sweep. Checking every doorway, every corner for attackers. Only one man, Whiner, waited by the cars on high alert.
When they’d passed, Griffin inched out behind the little squad and waited until Old Man Yazzie’s place hid them from view. Then he closed his eyes and remembered Scar-Face. His perpetual sneer. The dark stubble that covered his chin. His fatigues, so neat and new.
A flash of vertigo, a sense of flying… and then he was Scar-Face, fatigues and all.
Too bad I can’t copy guns as well as clothes.
Never had been able to figure out why his gift was limited to skin and ‘fur’. Seemed damned capricious – and inconvenient – to him.
But, over the years, he’d learned how to make do.
Fully human again, Griffin trotted out from behind the house – straight for the SUV. Whiner’s gun swept up towards him and for a moment, the Shifter felt his guts knot. He wasn’t a Dragon, with scales that could shed bullets like rain. If the merc pulled the trigger…
He didn’t. Of course. He recognized his buddy, after all. “What the hell, Markham? Where’s your gun?”
“We got problems,” Griffin hissed, keeping his voice low. “Bad ones. Check your clip, now.”
Like a good soldier, the man obeyed. He yanked the clip out and turned it back and forth as Griffin closed on him. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
“Give it here.”
And the guy did.
Some days, Griffin hated his gift. There was something treacherous about it, underhanded.
Screw that. It no more ‘unfair’ than a Dragon’s fiery breath. No one stands a chance against that. With me, at least they’ve got a shot of seeing the trap.
Not Whiner, though. He winced as Griffin cursed at some imaginary problem. “What’s wrong?”
“Shit! That’s what I was afraid of! Gimme your other gun.”
Obedient to the end, Whiner did. Griffin slapped the clip back into the rifle, flipped it around…
…and pulled the trigger, sending a spray of bullets into Whiner’s chest. The Fang dropped to the ground, a look of blank surprise on his face as he died.
No time for guilt or remorse. Griffin caught the body before it hit the ground and dragged it around the SUV. Kneeling he stared at Whiner… and felt his own body twist. Growing taller, thinner. Hair darkening to brown, short against his skull. When he rose, Scar-Face had vanished – replaced by Whiner’s form.
He popped up just as the other three mercenaries peeked out at him, drawn back by the sound of gunfire.
Griffin waved. They recognized their ‘friend’, of course.
He almost felt sorry for them.
But that didn’t slow him down. It couldn’t. Seventeen elderly men and women, innocents, depended on him.
With the hand gestures familiar to soldiers and cops, he signaled his ‘buddies.’
Two enemies. Over there. Hiding.
Scar-Face gave him a thumbs up. Message received. Then, stealthy, silent, the three remaining mercenaries crept along the wall of Mrs. Grey’s house, sneaking up on that non-existent enemy.
Griffin waited until they passed him.
Then he opened fire, mowing all three down in a hail of bullets. That was what ‘the element of surprise’ did in a fight.
Surprise. His strength.
His curse.
Brooding, lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the flash of light in Mrs. Grey’s window. Sunlight on metal.
On a gun barrel.
Griffin dropped as the shot rang out and felt the bullet pluck at his sleeve.
Too close, he cursed himself. Pay attention or you’re going to end up as dead as those idiots.
Rolling, he took cover behind the SUV. At least now he knew where the ‘Boss’ was. And that the man only had a handgun.
Not that Griffin dared to unload his assault rifle. Mrs. Grey was in there, helpless. He couldn’t risk harming her.
So how was he supposed to kill the last Fangs? Surprise was gone. He didn’t know enough about the Boss (or even Whiner) to pull off a good impersonation.
The man in the house, however, had his own plan. “You out there!” His voice was smooth and cultured – though rough with fear. “The thing wearing Wake. I know what you are.”
‘Wearing Wake’? What the hell was he babbling about?
Then it hit him: Darkborn. Those things Maddie talked about. He didn’t see me shoot Whiner and he believes I’m possessing him.
Well, he could play along with that. Tricky, since he didn’t know anything about these creatures. “Yes?”
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Mr. Boss yelled. “You’re going to walk out into the desert a quarter mile. I and my associates will get into our car and leave. You can keep the village.”
“And why should I do that?” Griffin called back. “You’re much better, uh, clothes than this person.”
Actually, getting these people away from Stillwater’s innocent citizens was a good plan. But he had to stay in character. Agree too quickly, and Boss might begin to doubt that he was truly an evil spirit.
“Because if you don’t leave, I’ll shoot the woman in here. Then I’ll kill every person in this town.”
Why would that matter to a Darkborn? Griffin was about to ask when Boss volunteered the answer. “If they die, your master starves.”
That threat sent a chill down his spine, even though he didn’t know what it truly meant.
Something’s feeding on them. That’s why they’re dying. Hell, I hope Maddie Hunter can break that spell.
“Well? What’s your answer?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think fast,” Boss shouted. “I’m shooting the old wom
an in ten seconds.”
He already knew his answer. “Alright. I keep these clothes, though.”
“Fine,” Boss snapped. “He doesn’t matter.”
Griffin shook his head. Fangs. Definitely Fangs. Most loathsome Shifters on the planet.
“I’m leaving now,” he called. “Shoot anyone and I’ll come back and kill you.”
Keeping the cars between him and the house, he jogged into the desert. Crouching low at first, then straightening into a full run once he was out of handgun range. When he could barely see Mrs. Grey’s front door, he stopped and waved.
Five people spilled out of the house. Four panicked red-headed women. Hares, for sure. One slender man with white-blonde hair and a tailored suit. At this distance Griffin couldn’t see their Shifter souls, so he had no idea what the guy was.
All of them piled into one SUV. A Hare scuttled behind the wheel, Boss scrambled into the passenger seat. Before they left, they circled the other SUV once as Boss shot out its tires.
Dammit. Griffin scowled. He’d planned on using that to follow them.
The SUV rocketed away, bouncing along the cow path that led back to civilization. He watched it go, weighing his options.
He could still catch them… if he Shifted into his true form.
Which Maddie would see. Even if she didn’t recognize his Kind, she’d remember. She was a Witch. She’d figure it out.
And when she did, her ‘Shifter community’ would kill him.
Unless he killed Maddie first.
The very thought sickened him.
I am not a monster, no matter what they say! I will not let them make me one.
The SUV disappeared, swallowed by its own dust cloud. He waited until the plume roared past Maddie’s hideout, then summoned his memories of the winter hare once more.
I’ll get you later, he promised the Fang’s leader as he began to hop down the road towards his Witch. When I don’t have to hurt anyone to do it.
Chapter 4.
The hut’s thick stone walls and cool dirt floor offered Maddie protection from the afternoon’s fierce sun. Yet, staring at Mrs. Grey’s comatose body (and at the livid burn marring her face), she couldn’t shake off her dazed surprise.
“What happened here?”
In the doorway, Griffin shrugged. Spatters of blood stained his arms and jeans. He’d been moving the bodies of the men he’d killed. How he’d killed them, she had no idea. Without binoculars she hadn’t seen a thing. Had he sneaked up on them in his Hare form? That was… well, kind of insulting. Hares were one of the five Shifter Kinds after all. The Fangs ought to be suspicious about ‘hares’ lingering near them.
Though honestly when’s the last time I or one of my sister Witches hopped up to armed men and assaulted them?
Okay. Violent Hares were uncommon. That probably did give Griffin an edge.
Still, a shrug didn’t help her. “The more I know, the easier this is. This isn’t just a gate that someone left open. This thing is draining the life out of all the people in this town. You need to tell me what happened.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he protested. “Two days ago I came back from a trip and found them all like this.”
Came back. So this was his home, or someplace he visited regularly. Maddie stored that little tidbit away. No sense warning her kidnapper that he’d given her a valuable clue. “Whatever it was must have happened at night. Everyone’s in bed.”
And dying. Dehydration hadn’t killed anyone yet; the vampiric force feeding on them must offer some protection to its prey. Yet all were fading, with shallow breath and erratic heart beats. The elders were failing more quickly but even the youngest would follow them soon.
Or would have. If Griffin hadn’t brought her here.
Not that I approve of this ridiculous kidnapping. If he’d just asked the Witch Queen, I would have back up right now. A dozen sisters to help me solve this mystery.
“Has anything like this happened before?”
“No.”
“Are there any stories of attacks?”
“No. Wait.” His eyes narrowed. “I remember someone saying that this village used to guard something. Ages ago, so long that nobody remembered what it was.”
“Could it be that ‘Cauldron’ you mentioned? Is it a Wellspring?”
A sneer spread across his handsome face, a bitter memory he didn’t share with her. “Who knows? I mean, what’s a ‘Wellspring’ anyway? That’s just some random label that Anglos slap on places with high levels of magic.”
Griffin might be a Hare – but he wasn’t a well-educated one. “Not true. I’ll skip the technical details but a Wellspring is a portal to the spirit lands, the Other Side. One that possesses a positive energy flow. By which I mean that energy – magic – flows out into our world.”
“Yeah, but that’s true of all these sites.”
“Wrong. Some have negative flows; they draw spirits out of this world and back to the Other Side. Others have no energy flow at all. Those are the ‘sacred sites’ that many cultures venerate.”
“So? Does that actually matter?” He folded his arms across his chest, a subtle, unconscious gesture of hostility.
One she didn’t return. Gently she continued her explanation, “Energy flow matters a lot if you’re trying to shut down a gate. Plus, wellsprings have been dormant for centuries. That’s why there’s so little magic in the modern world. Now they’re waking up. Magic is returning to our world, which might help us understand what happened here.”
Her calm won a grudging respect from him. Griffin stepped to her side and peered down at the elderly woman lying on the bed. Carefully he tucked the corner of her blanket close around her shoulder, as if to shield her from the cool air.
The gesture gave Maddie hope.
He’s a suspicious, violent, rude man, someone who isn’t afraid to hurt people to get what he wants. Yet he clearly cares for these people. Maybe that’s why he’s been so rough with me. Love makes you do desperate things.
Or so she’d heard. Not that she’d been in love before. Witches who wasted time on dates and frivolities didn’t advance far in a Warren. Especially not a prestigious one like Sedona.
Griffin jerked away from the bed, a sudden movement that startled Maddie and sent her Hare zipping out the door. “Dammit, I’m an idiot! I do have a clue! The leader of the Fangs assumed I was one of those Darkborn you were talking about. He said that if I didn’t let him leave, he’d kill all the people here – and then ‘my Master’ would starve.”
Master of the Darkborn? That would be…
Maddie shivered violently. “We have a problem. A huge one.”
That startled a bitter laugh from her kidnapper. “No shit,” he said, waving a hand at Mrs. Grey.
Run. Run run run run run, her Hare whispered.
She was not abandoning these people, however. Or her surly prison keeper. “You don’t understand. If those Fangs were right, a lot more than seventeen people may end up dead. Have you ever heard the name ‘Nemagorix’?”
“No.” Though he was still wary, he leaned against the wall once more and listened.
“Nemagorix is the master of the Darkborn. We don’t know a lot about it, but we do know that there will be devastating consequences if it breaks into this world. Thousands of people will die, tens of thousands. Maybe more.”
“And you think that thing is here. Behind the Cauldron.”
Mouth dry, Maddie nodded. “I need to contact my Warren.”
“No.”
She’d tried to be patient, she really had! But this was too much. “Oh stop already! This is way more than any one Witch can handle!”
Anger flashed in his eyes and his lips pinched tight. “Well, one Witch is all I’ve got, so you’re going to have to make do.”
Now her temper rose as well. No silly buck Hare was going to push her around. “Are you really that selfish? You’ll let everyone here die just to protect your stupid little secret?”
/> “Maybe I am.” He returned her glare with an equal rage.
“Apparently you’re an idiot too. Don’t you see? The moment you kidnapped me, you blew your secret. As soon as I’m done here, my Warren will know about you. Unless…” A terrible thought rose, one that chilled her to the bone. “Unless you plan to kill me after I finish, to make sure I never tell them.”
Griffin’s eyes were two chips of glacial ice, cold and hard. “We’re wasting time. Get to work.”
Oh heavens, that was it! He was going to kill her! “This is too much. I need help.”
“No.”
“I can’t do this alone!”
“Try!”
“No!”
“Woman!” He stepped close, towering over her. “I told you I’m not calling them.”
Heart pounding, she still managed to keep the fear out of her voice. “Then everyone here dies because I refuse to do this alone.”
His hands balled into fists and for one horrible moment she was sure he would hit her. Instead, he grabbed her by the arm and strode for the door, dragging her behind him.
Outside, her Hare darted madly around them. Yet still Griffin kept his own Shifter spirit hidden, paranoid even though she knew what he was. Maddie struggled to keep up with him, staggering and tripping as he hauled her over to his car. With a jerk he slammed her against it. Then he leaned close, hard, muscled body pinning her against the hot metal. His lips brushed her ear, his breath hot upon her skin.
“Shut up and listen,” he whispered, in a voice as soft as a falling snowflake. “I don’t know how this Nemagorix hears, but I don’t want to talk in front of the people it’s feeding on.”
Feeding did create a connection between the spirit and the inhabitants of this town. She hadn’t thought of that, and his suspicion tied her stomach in a knot.
“Why do you think it isn’t feeding on us?” he murmured. “Why did it let the Fangs go?”
“I don’t know,” she hissed back, keeping her voice as low as his.
“Think! Is a spirit like your Nemagorix going to be full after he eats seventeen senior citizens?”
And suddenly she saw it, the ‘insane’ fear that silenced him.
Seventeen people – seventeen old, weak, mortal beings – was nothing more than a snack for Nemagorix. It wanted more food, stronger food. It wanted her to summon her Warren. It longed to have the Fangs occupy this town, filling it with scores of powerful Shifters.