by Jayne Hawke
I made my coffee particularly strong and enjoyed a selection of danishes while I considered how best to approach the first task on my list. The megaminds had instructed me to break into a very expensive house and move a clock on the third floor eight inches before I turned it an hour forward. My mind was still processing how on Earth something so frivolous could impact something like the goddess. I was trying really hard not to focus on it. It would only give me a headache.
Six
"What are you doing today?" Elijah asked.
"I need to do recon on that house in Old Town. I have a clock to move," I said with a laugh.
It sounded so absurd when I said it out loud. Stories would be told about this once it was all over. How the world was saved by moving a clock a few inches. No one would ever believe it.
By the time I got to the neighbourhood, the idea of doing recon had started to sound like more work than it was worth. I figured that, unless the house was heavily warded or otherwise gave the impression of strong security, I could cut some time off the process by winging it. The idea of going through the whole recon-planning-execution process just in order to screw with a clock just didn’t feel right, even if I had resolved to steal whatever I could to justify the trip.
The house itself was in Old Town, the kind of place where the Homeowners Association hired people to measure grass and the sidewalks were warded to be self-cleaning. I’d worn a glamour, feeling the need for the extra layer of certainty without knowing why. Contrary to popular belief, the odds of nosy neighbours (or, as they’re called in more polite society, Neighbourhood Watch) actually noticing a thief that isn’t getting in by driving their car through the bay windows is very low, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t afford it and this wasn’t the time to risk the wastage of getting caught. Before long, I stood at the side of the house, out of sight of any onlookers.
There were two sedans in the driveway, one black and one silver, late model reliables with no style and far less class than the owners imagined. I did a mental tally of the price I could get for the car and the value of not having to walk home alongside the added risk of discovery and, after carrying the two and dotting the multiples it looked like Don, the guy who ran my favourite chop shop, was going to be getting a visit soon. Before that could happen, I had to get my main job done. I climbed a tree that was far too close to the house for the HOA not to be sending noncompliance notices by the hour and, after checking for wards, electrical currents that might imply alarms, and any signs of life, used my earth magic to silently powder the lock to a second-storey window, granting easy access to a spare bedroom. It seemed odd for the house to have two cars and no people present, which put me on my guard.
Once inside, I searched the room for valuables. The odds were low for a guest bedroom, but it never hurt to try. Finding it empty, stepped out into a thickly carpeted hallway, the walls sun yellow at the top fading down into a near-white by the bottom. The effect was of a sunset as depicted by someone who had only heard of sunsets by vague description. The job of finding the clock was eased by the endless tick-tock of its massive mechanism, impossible to miss even with carpet, a sound I’d never understood the appeal in. There were people who collected insane numbers of them without any sound baffling, magical or otherwise, and just the thought of having that constant repetitive sound in my house made my eyes go fuzzy. To each their own.
The clock turned out to be at the end of an adjoining hallway in some sort of unfurnished sitting room that looked like it was hoping to be a foyer when it grew up but ended up on the second floor and had to settle for being the clock room. A moment of silence for wasted potential, such as it was. I pulled out a ruler, never one to be unprepared, and pushed the clock exactly eight inches before setting about changing the time. I thought about smoothing out the carpet where the feet had dug into it but reflected that it was equally likely that the divot in the carpet was the whole point. I reached into the shadow and called out to the megaminds, getting back the barest hint of a shrug in response. I wondered briefly how a shadow being I couldn’t see could be shrugging and why that hadn’t occurred to me the last time they’d made the gesture, but the whole thing had become so absurd that it was barely worth considering. I’d broken into a stranger’s house to screw with their timekeeping; it wasn’t the time to dwell on logic.
Since the megaminds didn’t care, I didn’t care. I whisked myself away to check the house for valuables. Moving systematically through the house, I checked every room on the top floor and found that it was almost entirely unused bedrooms. Empty nesters, maybe. Two bedrooms seemed to have adult occupants – at work, presumably - one person each, which probably wasn’t a good sign for their marital health, but then again maybe they just didn’t like to share sleeping space. I wasn’t anyone to throw stones on boundary issues. I snagged three white-gold watches, not particularly high end but worth enough to carry home, from what was almost certainly the man’s room, and a hefty box of assorted jewellery from the woman’s. A sort of den/study hybrid held a painting I didn’t recognize. I took it off the wall, hoping for a safe behind it, and found nothing. I stripped the canvass from the frame and took it, as much out of spite for the owner’s inconsiderate choice not to put a safe there as anything.
The bottom floor was mostly a bust, but I slipped a couple cell phones out of their charger docks for good measure and grabbed a gold platter off a display shelf. My work done, I headed outside. Stealing cars was a time-honoured criminal tradition, and I wasn’t above the practice. Warding a moving vehicle that needed to be useable by more than one person was surprisingly difficult, which meant that only the very top echelons had warding on their machines. Even my Charger was, like the sedan I was breaking into at that very moment, secured by nothing more than a key. Most criminals in town knew me and knew that stealing from me was a bad life choice. Those that didn’t would end up at fences and chops who did. The image of some virgin showing up with his first take only to find out that it belonged to a woman credited with more kills than he has pubes and then speeding back to stick it in the lot before I got out from getting groceries was one I took great pleasure in. A girl can dream.
I used air magic to isolate the sound of the car from the outside world so as not to wake the owners and storm to send the right electrical signals to start it without keys. Minutes later, I was cruising out of Old Town in (relative) style, mischief accomplished.
Don was a reliable sort; that’s why I used him for this sort of thing. The grizzled older man with more grey hair than dark was leaning against the old brick wall waiting for me. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the thing I was driving, hardly my usual target. Still, it had gotten me that far.
I’d thrown my loot into a bag and grabbed said bag off the seat before strolling up to Don with a broad grin.
“You got me out of bed for that?”
“It’ll be easy to move, we all like an easy job now and again. Besides, even chop shops should be open by noon.”
He made a big thing of walking around it and inspecting it. I rolled my eyes. I could have been screwing with someone’s topiary.
“Fine, I’ll give you five for it.”
I snorted. It was easily forty brand new, and he had a few fronts that appealed to those genuine sorts.
“Fuck off. I’ll take it to Carrie if that’s all you’re offering.”
Carrie wasn’t my first choice for a reason, but she did do more dealings in those safer middle range type of cars.
“Fine. Ten. Final offer.”
I made a show of thinking it over and playing with the keys. Ten grand was enough to make me feel better about the morning.
“Done.”
Seven
"Is that a painting under your arm? We don't need any more paintings..." Elijah said with a frown.
I dropped the stolen items on the kitchen table unceremoniously.
"It made me feel better."
He raised an eyebrow in questioning at me. I huffed.
"I just broke into a house to move a clock, because some big scary shadows told me that doing so would help us defeat a fallen goddess. I felt like a complete fool going into that house just to move the clock, so I made myself feel better. Now I didn't just move the clock, I also stole some shit to sell. And then I can use that money to buy some whisky, which I'm going to need a lot of in the coming days and weeks. Nicked a boring car, too; Don says hi."
I trusted the megaminds, and maybe I shouldn't have. Trust didn't stop the weird squirmy shame-filled sensation I'd gotten when I considered just moving the clock. It was just so absurd, and how would I explain that to anyone outside of the pack? Sure, they know goddesses exist, but the concept of the shadow plane working as it did... of the megaminds. It was just too much. So, I was a dick to make myself feel better.
Elijah pulled me into his arms, and I rested my head against his chest, choking down a sudden storm of emotions. Everything felt as though it was so much bigger than us. I was terrified that I'd lose the pack through all of this. I'd already lost dear Castor. I couldn't do it. I couldn't lose them too. And so, I had no choice but to listen to the megaminds and hope that everything would come together as we needed.
Who knew, maybe it would make the people who owned the house feel a little better. Maybe it would be easier to deal with the knowledge that someone had broken in to steal valuable items, rather than just to move a cursed clock. Besides, anyone who left home without their car or cell phone had probably been kidnapped by gryphons anyway. No harm stealing from gryphon bait.
Sighing, I found my backbone and stood a little taller. Standing there wallowing in the sadness that would come if we lost wasn't going to do anyone any good. Infinity's cold silky self pressed against my shoulders, offering some feeling of comfort. That was my life now. I was getting comfort from the shadows.
Elijah tenderly stroked my cheek with a look of deep affection, something that would have sent me running for the hills a few months back. There was still that quiet urge deep in my gut, but I ignored it. I loved him. He was my anchor.
Rex had come in with his face torn to shit. Deep cuts raked down his face; his left eye and the corner of his mouth were torn open.
"What happened!?" I asked.
He scowled as best as he could with his face in that state.
"They had a guard cat."
I must have heard him wrong. I swore he'd just said a guard cat.
"A guard cat...?"
He cursed and knocked back a healing potion.
"Yes. A fucking guard cat. One of those Siamese things. It must have caught my scent or something. It threw itself at my face when I stepped inside, and it didn't let go. Damn thing was stubborn and vicious."
I clamped my hand over my mouth and fought back laughter. He was clearly in a lot of pain, but the image of an eight-pound cat taking down the grumpy wolf was beyond hilarious.
"I put the fucking couch on the bridge like you said I was supposed to. Facing exactly north-north-west, cushions piled on the right arm."
"Well, that's great news," I managed to choke out.
My head was still firmly stuck on the image of the cat attached to his face like some furry possessed face hugger. Tears were prickling the corners of my eyes where I was trying so hard not laugh.
"Did I hear guard cat?" Jess asked.
He narrowed his working eye at the cougar shifter.
"Where can I get this cat?"
Rex growled.
"Aw, come on! We'd clearly be best friends. I mean, looking at your face it has some skills. The injuries were well placed. Are you sure it wasn't some really badass shifter? We could go and cause bar fights together!"
She was positively gleeful.
"I'm sure it was a fucking cat. A normal, fucking, cat," Rex ground out.
Jess sighed.
"Damn. I was really hopeful for a minute there. Thanks for screwing that up."
"I've told you you're not starting more bar fights. We have a reputation to maintain," Elijah said firmly as he walked into the room.
Jess gave him her biggest kitten eyes. She'd clearly been working on them. She even had a little lip wobble in there. Elijah was stony faced. Better luck next time.
We were all gathered in the living room, Rex poking at his face as it healed. He was muttering about it itching.
"Leave it alone and let it heal," Elijah said.
Rex muttered some more and went into the kitchen. Presumably to poke at his face in peace.
It was getting late, but my mind wouldn't switch off. I sank down into the comfortable couch and began flipping through the channels on the TV. The next items on my list weren't supposed to be done before tomorrow. Just what were the megaminds doing out there? They clearly had some intricate plan. If I poked around in my mind enough, I'd likely be able to see and understand it, but I feared that doing so would take me further away from humanity.
Was that something that was going to happen to me? The megaminds had already given me the ability to reach out to people via the shadow, and I'd felt something shift and change within me. If I allowed it, then there was a cooler more distant mindset that would descend and pull me away from my surroundings. It was similar to when I fought, a cold calculating logic, but more so. Was that what I'd become if I allowed the shadows to push and nudge me closer to them?
Elijah held me close as I tried to focus on the movie someone had chosen. There were quips and witty banter, but I barely heard any of it. I needed to decide how much I was willing to sacrifice to win this war.
Eight
"Why is there a kid's painting in the kitchen?" Rex asked.
I frowned and walked into the kitchen, wondering if perhaps Jess had stolen something somewhere. She was enjoying screwing with people for her list from the shadows. I swore that she was at least part magpie as she'd returned home with some shiny buttons, a pair of tea cups, and some cufflinks when I'd stepped out of the training room that morning.
Rex was holding up the painting I'd taken the night before. Admittedly it was simplistic, but some people were into that. There were potato print paintings in one of the big London galleries.
"It's not a kid's painting, it's valuable and going to be sold later," I said.
He looked through the rest of what I'd grabbed.
"Was this on the list? Because this is all worthless shit..." He held up the phones. "These won't get you fifty. And what's this jewellery?"
I hadn't bothered to really look at what I'd grabbed. It had been purely impulse to make myself feel a little better. Looking through the box weighed down with jewellery, I saw that it was mostly gaudy costume shit. The type of overly large “jewels” you saw at charity events from people who were firmly middle class but desperate to be perceived as something more.
"Maybe if you sell it by weight it won't be so bad," Liam offered.
Elijah picked up the gold platter and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
"What? It was gold, it'll be worth something to someone."
Elijah gave me a concerned expression, one with deep furrows between his brows.
"It made me feel better to take something rather than just move a cursed clock. This way it feels as though I really did something of worth rather than listening to sentient shadows who speak directly into my brain."
The great wolf frowned and stalked over to me before he pulled me into his arms, concern rolling off him once again. And I didn't entirely blame him. It wasn't as though I was handling this as well as maybe I should have been. Who could honestly say they'd be able to shrug this off and roll with it? We were dealing with gods here.
"Just be grateful I didn't steal teacups," I said with a laugh.
Elijah released me and smiled. Jess was pouting next to him.
"They're pretty teacups."
"They're not even a complete set! And you don't drink tea."
"I might start drinking tea now," Jess said with a scowl.
"Sell them or throw them cat. You're not
cluttering this place up like a magpie," Elijah said.
Jess sighed melodramatically.
"People are starting to talk about our antics," Liam said.
"I'd feel better if we called our actions something more badass than 'antics'," Elijah said.
"People are talking about our badass actions to save the world," the fox said.
I bit back a laugh. I wasn't going to deny that antics did sound kind of miserable. Still, the fox had gone a little bit too far.
"What sort of talking?" I asked.
"Not much yet. They seem to be bemused, trying to figure out a purpose. The general consensus seems to be a group of puka got bored."
I was fine with puka getting the credit for our actions. It was better than drawing attention to ourselves. We couldn't be sure how long we'd have until the goddess herself figured out what we were up to. The longer we could stay under the radar, the better.
"Puka, really?" Jess said with a sigh.
"They're logical. Mischievous, intelligent, and they have fae magic, which would get them into a lot of places," Elijah said.
I wondered how the puka community felt about that. I mean, the general view of them wasn't exactly wrong. They were a mischievous branch of fae. Usually they were pretty harmless, far more interested in gentle amusement rather than anything cruel. Of course, anything was capable of cruelty if you pushed it hard enough, and they were still fae.
Having the puka community come down on us would certainly suck. If we weren't careful, that would draw the eye of the local lord, and he already knew far more about us than I'd like. Oh well, better to hope for the best and focus on what was ahead of us. We had a long list to work through yet and wasting time fretting and worrying could lead to world-ending consequences.
Once this was done, I was going to take a holiday somewhere. I didn't know where. Somewhere with brightly coloured cocktails with little umbrellas. The South of France was reported to be nice. I'd heard good things about Vermont, but I'd also heard about some of the creatures that lived in America. Knowing my luck, I'd end up stumbling across a skinwalker. No, France sounded far safer. I'd have to check which god touched watched over which area. Maybe a little time under a Bacchus god touched would do us all some good. We could relax, drink, dance, and sleep.