Athena took hold of Breed's arm, smiling gently as the young woman winced. “I don't think it's broken, but it's bruised pretty badly. Wrist might be strained as well.” She stroked the woman's arm gently, feeling the bruise fade as she did so.
Athena's gift of healing wasn't much, as such things went—they'd all heard tales of those who could heal terrible wounds with little more than a touch—but most immortals had no talent for healing at all. She was an exception, even to be able to do as little as she could.
"What were those things?” Breed asked, lips tight as she shot a glance at Stone. She rubbed at her arm as Athena released it, then gave her a look that was both thankful and a bit puzzled.
"Goblins,” Stone answered with a shake of his head. “At least, that would be my guess. What they're doing here, and why they attacked us...” He let his voice trail off then shrugged with what sounded like a self-deprecating snort. “I've always believed in the Fey, though a lot of other agents think I'm half crazy. There are too many unexplained incidents, especially in the British Isles, for them not to exist."
"Thus your Faerie Patrol,” Shea remarked dryly. “Hell, for all I know, you might be right. I can conjure up some memories there in Europe that fit the bill—unexplained shit that happened to more than one of us."
"Goblins? Faeries? What the hell is this, Stone? Are you really a Fed, or some sort of whack-job who's playing us all?” Breed's contempt was palpable, but, surprisingly, Stone didn't react as Athena might have expected.
He laughed, wincing slightly as he shifted his weight on his injured leg. “Athena, is there any way you could—?"
"—Heal that?” She shrugged. “I might be able to stop the bleeding and ease the pain a bit, but anything more than that is beyond me."
"That would be fine,” he answered. “I don't really want to bleed to death out here—though it looks like it missed my femoral—nor do I want to try to maintain through the pain if we're forced into another confrontation."
Renee was looking at the wound, her eyes almost glowing out of the darkness, with a sort of intensity that made Athena's skin crawl. She seemed to notice what she was doing and turned away suddenly.
"Are you going to answer me, Stone?” Breed didn't appear very sympathetic.
Probably feels like she's been dragged in over her head, and isn't too happy with the one who did the dragging. Can't say I blame her.
"What the hell is all this about?"
He passed a look around the circle then shrugged. “Any secrets here aren't mine to tell, Breed. You'll have to ask these folks."
She aimed her gaze at Athena, who half-shrugged, then at Shea, who simply grinned at her. Renee, face pointing the other way, didn't even seem to notice. “Okay. I know something weird just happened. Either that or we were just attacked by a mad cult of costumed midgets—which, if you think about it, is pretty goddam weird in itself. Are a few answers too much to ask for?"
Athena shook her head then shot a glance at Shea. He regarded her with narrow, angry eyes. Screw it. If she's going to be put in danger, she should know more about it than what Stone feels like telling her.
Shea might not like it, but surprisingly, she found that she didn't really care. She planned to tell the woman something, even though she had yet to decide exactly what she meant to say. Here and now wasn't exactly the time and place, however.
She moved to Stone and softly laid a hand on his leg, feeling the heat of his wound rise up through her palm and travel in a surge of force up through her arm and into her chest. A sudden stabbing sensation caused her to gasp. The sudden pang was answered as power flowed up from her groin, across her abdomen, through her chest, and down that arm to her hand.
Stone cried out, once. He peeled his jeans out of the way where the blade had bit through and wiped away the blood. The wound was gone. He frowned up at her, obviously shocked. “I didn't know you could do that."
"That makes two of us,” she answered, with a frown of her own. Stepping away, she ran a hand through her hair, forgetting, for a moment, that it was still covered in blood. Wonderful.
Shit. What just happened? She'd never had the power simply take her like that, like an over-stimulated lover. She remembered the first time she'd tried to heal anything more than a simple scrape, or bruise. Nothing. Or, at least, nothing much. Like she'd told him, the wound would be sealed, the pain lessened, but the injury would still exist, and still be in jeopardy of re-opening.
Not his. Not this time.
Shea walked over, leaned down to inspect the wound, then straightened. “Something is happening to us, Athena. Something amazing.” He said nothing more about it, instead walking several feet down the tracks and standing alone in the enveloping shadows. He glanced back once, as if wondering if they were going to follow.
Stone went first, pistol still in hand. He took the time to pop out the magazine and insert another, jacking back the slide with a great deal of satisfaction. Breed, after a momentary pause to stare at Athena, did the same.
Renee moved slowly, almost gingerly, to stand beside Shea. She aimed a sidelong glance at him but said nothing.
They finally moved together, traveling up the tracks in unison, this time deliberately staying within a few feet of one another. Though he'd probably rather have been flayed alive, Stone didn't seem to want to get too far from either immortal.
Breed seemed more at ease, oddly enough. Stone knew about such things as the goblins—had, in fact, identified them—but somehow the young woman had taken the attack with a lot more aplomb. In fact, when all was said and done, the thin blond cop's sense of self made Athena feel at a distinct disadvantage. In twenty-some years this Breed woman had somehow found something she hadn't in literally thousands of years. Self-possession.
Athena wasn't accustomed to feeling inadequate. Or at least not in a one on one comparison with a mortal.
"I feel him,” Renee murmured, her quiet voice carrying in the night. “Close."
She vanished into the swallowing darkness as if she'd never been. Shea swore under his breath, but loudly enough that everyone else could hear him. He paused, then followed her into the night, moving nearly as swiftly and as silently as she had. Athena, tempted to follow, forced herself to stay with the mortals.
She didn't like it, but someone had to do it. Apparently Shea didn't want to let the vampire out of his sight. Not that I blame him. That whole incident with the blood ... she shivered. Maybe she hadn't quite come to terms with the fact they had a vampire among them. A vampire?
Unbelievable.
* * * *
Malice stepped out from under the boathouse eves, directly in the path of the two interlopers—one immortal, the other obviously not. They paused, staring at him uncertainly.
He smiled broadly. “Nice of you to drop by, but I wasn't expecting guests. My name is Malice,” he said, extending a hand.
The immortal was one of the ugliest men he'd ever seen—short, squat, with dark eyes that met his gaze fearlessly. Oh, he liked this one.
He nearly ignored the mortal, except in passing. She was a sweet little thing, he observed. Petite, actually, with long dark hair that hung in a casual braid over one shoulder. He made a note to himself to play with her a little before killing her.
He struck out at the immortal as he moved, only to feel the telekinetic flows simply dissipate as they touched him. Malice had a moment of shock before the immortal's clenched fist crashed into his jaw. His shoulders hit the outer wall of the boathouse with bone-crunching force. Since he was immortal, it was the wall that crunched inward. He laughed as he pried himself from the hole he'd made. It hurt, but he'd be damned if he'd show it. “Interesting,” he said. “How'd you do that?"
Deryk Shea—it had to be Shea—grinned suddenly. “I don't have any powers impressive enough to match that,” he said. “I'm simply immune to the powers of others."
"Oh, really?” This mystery explained, Malice gestured with his left hand and aimed a burst of power at
the ground beneath Shea's feet. It erupted, hurling him skyward in the midst of a reverse hail of sand suddenly turned to glass by the mix of heat and pressure caused by the twining of Malice's major talents.
He turned to look at the mortal and found himself staring into the face of horror. Her lips had drawn back, revealing two sharp, curving canines gleaming under the dim light of the boathouse lamp shining through the window to his left. Her eyes caught his and he froze, mind suddenly numbed by a power he couldn't identify, a power that rolled his consciousness beneath a dark blanket of haze.
She came on him quickly, so fast he didn't have a chance to blink, much less mount a defense. His telekinetic power fizzled as she lifted him bodily from the ground and hurled him away from her as if he weighed nothing.
He seemed to float through the air forever.
* * * *
Loki opened his eyes to blackness, but he could see—if one could call it seeing—both Shea and Renee outside the building. Shea fell from the sky, crashing into the damp sand. Renee hissed like an angry cat and pounced upon someone—his captor?
He couldn't tell. He could see—feel—taste? what was going on, but it seemed so confusing. Separating the different entities proved more difficult than he could have imagined. Everyone—everything—seemed like part of one large whole, an intricate dance of life, of matter, of energy, moving through the cosmos.
What is happening to me?
Athena, Stone, and Breed entered the yard through a large hole in the hedge, Athena in the lead despite Stone's silent objections. Why he thought he'd be a better choice to stick his neck out she didn't know, but she figured it most likely some kind of macho thing. Precisely the reason she thought it best to ignore it. The other option would be to be downright rude.
They got there in time to see Renee embracing something, someone, and all could hear the sound of teeth piercing flesh. Malice, so used to being powerful, struggled in the arms of a monster even more terrifying than himself.
She drained her fill, then thrust him away. He staggered a few feet in the sand, then fell heavily. He pulled himself up to his hands and knees, then rushed toward the sound of the ocean—the Sound, really—clambering over the rocks and hurling himself into the cold, dark water.
* * * *
"He's inside,” Renee murmured, walking slowly to the boathouse door. She reached out, grasped the lock on the door, and tore it off with a casual jerk. Shea picked himself up off the ground, giving his tattered clothing a brief glance, and followed her inside.
* * * *
Loki wanted to cheer. They were here! He could feel them as if they were only extensions of himself. Renee first, coming through the door like an avenging angel. Shea, one of his least favorite people in the world—or so he'd long thought—right behind her. His intent was as much to defend her, a sentiment Loki could appreciate.
Behind them came Athena, his favorite immortal of all. How ironic his most and least favorite brethren were so closely tied together. And there was little Loki appreciated more than irony. With them was the Fed—Stone—and a cop he didn't recognize, an oddly attractive blond girl. He had a sudden insight about her, and grinned within his crate. She would be of particular interest to him, he realized. She'd certainly require a great deal of study on his part.
They held a hurried conference above his head. He was down quite a distance, far enough that he could feel water starting to seep in around the edges of his prison. He didn't think any of them had the power to raise him, crate and all, without a great deal of excavation.
He was wrong.
Renee stood, staring down at the sand covering her lover's prison, dark hair abruptly unbound, the braid vanishing as if it never was. Her dark hair hung over her face like a veil.
A whisper of something, of energy nearly beyond the senses of those who stood nearby, vibrated through the earth.
"Look at that,” Breed murmured to Athena, pointing at the ground as it began to swirl, moving away from the center and spreading out beneath their feet. A hole appeared, slowly expanding. They all backed up a few feet and watched the sand pile up into two mounds on each side of the growing pit.
In moments the hole was deep enough they could see down to the wood of the crate. The top shattered abruptly, spraying them all with splinters and more sand as Loki was lifted up and set gently in their midst.
He was grinning. Not unusual for him. He showed no ill effects for being stuck in the box for the better part of a night. In fact, Athena noted incredulously, he seemed actually happy. Not only to be released, but something else...
He wrapped his arms around his vampire lover and gave her a loud kiss, then turned pale eyes on Shea. He stepped back and gave a short bow. “My thanks, Deryk."
"Don't thank me,” was the response, barely more than a growl. “Thank your lady friend. She was most insistent."
"I'll thank her on my own time,” Loki replied with a grin, not even bothered by Shea's brusque demeanor. “I didn't think you'd be interested in watching."
"I don't understand,” Breed whispered to Athena, after walking over to peer down into the hole. “He was buried without any air supply. He seems none the worse for wear."
"We're sturdy folks,” Athena replied.
Breed gave her a doubtful look, but ended up shrugging off the next question that came to mind. Athena could see the thought process as it occurred, deep behind her eyes. She'd already started putting things together—she'd recognized Renee for what she was, yet hadn't freaked out.
She'd make a good ally, Athena decided. The responsibility for filling her in on the details would fall on her—the others would as likely leave her adrift with no answers whatsoever than reveal a single secret.
Loki looked toward the door, frowning. “We've got company."
Renee shot him a shocked look, then fired her gaze at the door. “He's right. How did—?"
"—No time for that,” Shea interrupted. “What've we got? More goblins?"
"Humans,” Renee said, shaking her head. “My guess is—"
"Cops,” Shea breathed. “I don't want to be standing here when they get here."
"I'll handle it,” Stone said. “Which direction are they coming from?"
"The main house,” Loki answered. “Coming up the drive."
"The railroad tracks,” Shea snapped. “Now!"
They rushed back out the door, leaving Stone behind them. Athena glanced back as she exited, seeing him drop into a lounge chair. He offered up a grin and a wink as she shut the door behind her.
They dashed back up the tracks, eyes alert for any sign of the goblins from earlier. They made it back to the park and were halfway into the SUV when a vehicle pulled up alongside. All four doors burst open, spitting its passengers into the street.
The three immortals froze. They recognized all of them. Immortals, each and every one. Armed to the teeth, in archaic fashion. “We're here to talk to you, Captain."
Shea eyed them warily. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Looks like it."
The speaker, a dark eyed creature named Morrigan, sneered at them. “We had a meeting, Shea. We've decided—you're not in charge anymore."
One of the immortals to the rear—a leathery-faced fellow called Manennen, grimaced, but said nothing. Either that wasn't what they really came to say, or he didn't like how she said it. She wouldn't have bet on it either way.
The fact that it had gone this far already wasn't a good sign. Actually confronting him on the street? “Why didn't you just come to the offices in the morning?” Athena asked, point-blank.
Morrigan's contempt for her was a palpable thing. Her eyes flicked over for a brief instant, then back to Shea.
"She's right,” Shea said. “This is neither the time nor the place."
"That's not for you to decide, Shea. We've had enough of taking orders from you."
He laughed. It wasn't an amused sound. “You'd condemn this world and everything on it to Alantea's fate because of pride?"
&n
bsp; "Not pride,” Manennen said sadly. “It's about being what we are. For how long we've been on our own, answering to no one but ourselves."
Morrigan shot him a dark look. Contention in the ranks. Athena smiled.
"What are you grinning about, simp?” Morrigan growled at her.
"Don't talk to her like that,” Renee warned, stabbing at her with a forefinger.
"Why shouldn't I, mortal?"
Loki, who'd remained uncharacteristically silent through this, shook his head. “I'd watch yourself there, Morrigan. You don't want to piss her off."
This brought a chuckle. “What's she going to do, bleed to death all over me?” She produced a knife and thumbed the edge suggestively.
Breed, of course, stood back, taking all of this in. She seemed about to draw her weapon and identify herself as a cop, but apparently thought better of it. Her glance at Athena spoke volumes. She'd expect real answers sooner or later.
Renee didn't respond to the not-so-subtle threat. To her, of course, it wasn't much of a threat at all, but Morrigan didn't know that. The placid look the vampire turned on her threw her off balance momentarily. She blinked once then turned her gaze to Loki. “Good to see you, Trickster."
Her expression made it a lie. They'd never been able to stand one another. She thought him too frivolous, he thought she was a black-hearted bitch.
"You oppose me on this,” Shea told them all, “you might as well choose to directly serve the Enemy."
"We don't see it that way,” came from a third speaker, a cloaked figure standing on the other side of the car. The voice was low, barely more than a whisper, yet rumbled like distant thunder. Athena felt a distinct chill. Thanatos had always given her the creeps. “You're not really a warrior, Shea. You're a commander. There's a difference."
"Not like you'd know what it was,” Shea snarled. “You were a fucking reporter, Thanatos. And you, Mannenen—you were always a sailor. But you, Morrigan, you wouldn't know how to fight a battle unless you could sneak in and blow someone up. Or poison them.
"If you won't follow someone's lead, you'll end up scattered and broken, easy meat for the Enemy. Rugged individuality isn't going to get us anywhere."
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