by Jayne Hawke
I reached out with my mind to check the magic of the area, half expecting to find fae or witch magic mingled in with the knots of the shifters. There was nothing, not even any residual signatures that I could feel. I hoped that meant they hadn't cut any foolish deals, but we couldn't be sure just yet.
Ash knocked on the door. An older man with grey at his temples and a weariness that hung about him like a shroud opened the door.
"You'll be the knights."
"Yes sir," I said.
"Rory was a good guy. He never started those fights."
"He just finished them," Ash said.
The man's shoulders slumped some.
"We don't know what happened. He was fine one moment, and murderous the next. He was killed before we had a chance to save him."
"Any ideas who killed him?"
"No."
"Did he know a ‘Ben’ from the Steel Heart pack?"
"I believe they had coffee once. Rory wasn't really an arty type. He had an online business building websites."
I hadn't really thought of shifters as being the techy types.
"Was there anything weird at all over the past few days?"
"No. He was completely normal. We saw no signs of spellwork, no grudges, no warning signs of him going rogue. He was just going out to get some more sugar."
SIXTEEN
Rhian answered the door. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and the knotted magic of her wolf sat barely beneath her human skin.
"You're here to speak to Ben."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry, he's sleeping."
"You heard there was another attack. We need to see if Ben knew the shifter or the victim."
She squeezed her eyes closed.
"Look, I'm sorry that they both died. Really, I am. But we now have a group of people baying for our blood."
"Then let us help," I said.
"Come in," Rhian said as she stepped inside.
"Zach, can you bring us some tea and all?" Rhian asked a guy in his thirties.
He was head and shoulders taller than Rhian with short dark blond hair, and his grey eyes hardened when he saw us.
"Of course," he said with a nod to Rhian.
We followed Rhian into the room we'd seen before with the chairs.
"Sit."
We sat opposite her on a comfortable couch. She tucked her legs beneath her as she curled into the armchair.
"There has been a small group who would far rather shifters left the city entirely for a few years now. When we opened our first gallery, there was a small push back. We have worked hard to cement our reputation as good citizens who don't cause trouble. All of the packs have."
"And now that's going to shit," Ash said.
Rhian nodded slowly and sank back into her chair.
"Yes. I fear there will be a war if another person is killed by a shifter. We can't allow our young ones out alone after dark."
"I'm sorry to hear that things escalated so quickly," I said.
It seemed very convenient. We needed to look into those groups. If there were any magic wielders within them, they could well have started all of this.
"How's Ben?" I asked.
"Troubled. He hasn't left his room. The pack has rallied around him, but he fears hurting someone again. This isn't what a rogue wolf looks like. They are mindless beasts. Ben is still his gentle caring self."
"When he isn't trying to rip someone apart," Ash added.
I elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.
"Something has been done to him. We don't know what yet, but we will find out."
I put up my hand.
"Please let us, that is our job."
Rhian's nostrils flared a little.
"He is my packmate."
"And we trained our entire lives to handle situations like this. You said yourself that people are baying for your blood."
Rhian exhaled slowly.
"You're right."
"The Knights usually are," an older woman with brilliant amber eyes said from the doorway.
Rhian dropped her eyes and bowed her head to the woman immediately. So, she was the alpha.
"Ben is not able to speak with you right now. We hope he will be tomorrow," the alpha said.
"Thank you," I said while keeping my eyes low.
I needed to show respect here.
"We understand your position, but you need to let us do our job," I said to Rhian as I stood.
"Do you not want tea?" the guy asked Rhian.
"Yes, we do, thank you," Rhian said.
Ash looked at the beautiful cookies laid out on a plate next to the pot of tea and practically drooled. I didn't know where he put it all; he'd just eaten a large burger and a double helping of chips.
The blond man poured us each a cup of tea as I settled myself again. Ash took two cookies the second he was offered them. They were thin delicate things with complicated icing on top. The top one Ash had taken seemed to depict a forest, the other a cottage. I took one with a flower on it and smiled in thanks at Rhian.
"A couple of our members are bakers and take pleasure in baking when things are difficult," Rhian said.
I took a small bite of the cookie after making sure there was no magic in it. Ash hadn't taken such precautions. He'd inhaled the cookies. They were a wonderful tart lemon flavour with a slight vanilla aftertaste, likely from the icing. I had to admit, they were very good.
"Which bakery do they work in?" Ash asked.
Rhian laughed.
"They will be happy to hear you enjoyed their cookies. They run the Sweet Things bakery two streets over. I didn't ask you to stay to enjoy the cookies, though. I'd like to discuss the groups that are working against the shifters of this city."
Technically, she hadn't asked us to stay.
"Are there any witches or magic wielders in the groups?" I asked.
Ash reached over to take more cookies. I gave him a glare. We were supposed to be polite professionals. He gave me a 'what?' look.
"Please, feel free. They'll only bake more." Rhian gestured at the plate of cookies. "No, the groups are entirely without magic as far as I'm aware. I believe they're mostly humans with a few fae partbreeds. There are rumours of a failed shifter, though."
"A failed shifter?"
I hadn't heard of such a thing before.
"Yes. Every once in a while, perhaps once every two or three hundred years, a shifter cub will be born without the ability to shift. It's common for them to be locked into whichever form they were born into. A lot of shifters birth in their animal form, as they feel it's more natural, but there are a number of human-formed failures."
"Do you have records of these failures?"
Finally, we had something we could look into.
"Perhaps. I will have to speak to my alpha."
"Thank you for your company. We will speak to you tomorrow," the alpha said as she appeared in the doorway bearing a large white cardboard box.
We stood and nodded our heads towards her.
"Thank you for your hospitality. We hope to wrap this problem up quickly."
"I have worked with knights before. I have faith in your abilities. These are from our bakers. They made too much tonight and thought this was a goodwill gesture."
Ash took the box and we both thanked her profusely before leaving. The second we got into the car, Ash opened up the box. His face lit up as he saw the array of cookies, cupcakes, muffins, and even a few danishes.
"Dude, these shifters rock!"
SEVENTEEN
We had decided it was best to track down these anti-shifter groups as soon as possible. A lot could change in a single night. Thankfully, the Knight database had a note on them, which was enough for us to do some digging around online. The crows were still busy trying to put a name and a face to the bear that had killed the last rogue wolf. That left us with Niall, our pixie contact in Edinburgh. Niall was a relatively new-to-us contact, as we'd only met him six or so months before.
He'd been in Liverpool at that point.
The pixie was slightly broader than was usual for his kind, but he still had the incredibly sharp, delicate bone-structure that all fae had. His wings were bound up in a simple leather jacket that collected the dust that would drop. A lot of pixies had taken to wearing such things, although there were still plenty who hated the feeling of their wings being bound up like that. It was said that they could fly on the fae plane, but they were just decoration on the Earth plane.
"What do you have for us, Niall?" Ash asked.
The pixie crossed his arms and looked distinctly sour.
"I have difficulties with business. These shifter murders have people on edge."
"Remind us what your business is..." I said.
I knew it was something illegal.
"I can tell you that the main anti-shifter group is run by a tall blonde woman who calls herself Penelope, or Pen to her friends. She's a pure human and proud of it. She was one of those who started pushing back when the Fall happened. A few of her friends disappeared not long afterwards, and she had the good sense to quieten down. Of course, her kind never really give up. So, she's been whispering in ears and gathering people up ever since. Supposedly she's built her little group a private communications network, but I call bullshit on that. Anyway, she's the one you'll want to talk to."
"Do you know where we can find her?"
"She'll be holed up in the Duck and Hound, over in Stockbridge. One of those gastro-pubs, you know the type. They think they're too good to be a real pub, but they're not up to becoming a real restaurant, so they sit in the middle."
"Thanks, Niall," Ash said as he patted the pixie on the shoulder.
"Anything for a knight."
He'd given us some line about how knights had saved his family when we first met him. In truth, he was trying to pickpocket Ash. He didn't get away with anything, but Ash had brought him around to really helping us out. Niall wasn't the type of contact the elders of the coven approved of, but he got the job done.
"How are we approaching this ‘Penelope’?"
"Tactfully. We want her to back off without causing a war."
"So, I should grab extra ammo."
"As much as you can carry."
We weren't fools. The chances of this going down quietly were about nil. These were the type of people who felt wronged and had done so for a few decades. They'd gathered up a lot of rage, and we were likely going to feel the brunt of it.
Stockbridge almost had a village feel to it. The area was home to a lot of nature orientated and less aggressive forms of fae. There was a large puka population in residence. The puka had reputedly had to bring their own clothes from the fae plane when they first stepped out into the open on the Earth plane. They were a shapeshifting type of fae with a cat, hare, and hound form. When they were in their human form, they still had their black cat ears and tail, which human clothes weren't prepared for. Now there were entire brands of clothing dedicated to the puka and their needs.
Ash parked about five minutes away from the Duck and Hound to give us a chance to feel out any ambush or magic that we might be walking into. Beautiful greenery climbed every surface, and every small patch of grass was overflowing with beautiful flowers in shades of white, blue, and yellow. The pavements were pale cream rather than the more common black tarmac. Even the road itself somehow looked more peaceful in a paler grey. Slender trees were placed at even spaces along the edge of the pavement. Their canopies provided homes for small songbirds and a little shade for those who wanted it in the summer.
A black cat with a white patch on its chest sat atop a fence post and watched us with unblinking eyes. I gave a small nod to the puka. They were always black with a white patch on their chest in whatever animal form they took. It was best to show a little respect. You never knew when it would make a big difference to a situation.
Ash walked with a relaxed smile upon his face as he casually took in our surroundings. I caught the way he glanced at every window, every potential hiding spot. Slowing my breathing, I began feeling for any magic that might be of use to us. It was tempting to steal a few threads from the puka. Fae magic was potent and volatile. It could prove useful in the upcoming fight. There were witches who did have the nerve to steal like that, but I preferred to keep relations good where possible.
A small bush with blue-black berries caught my attention. Threads of poisonous magic coiled around the deep grey stems. I hadn't felt anything else harmful or toxic in the area. The bush was unusual, but useful. Slipping my hand into my pocket, I pushed the stopper off a vial and began unspooling some of the poisonous magic and gently nudging it into the vial. I passed the vial over to Ash. He would be able to press the magic into some of his bullets as we walked. We both much preferred taking our time making preparations, but it was rare we had such a luxury.
I felt Ash began twisting the poisonous magic into complicated knots before he pressed those into the heart of some five still-unenchanted bullets in one of his backup magazines, turning the rounds into a cocktail of suffering. The magic felt potent. Hopefully it would be enough to take out anything with magic that we might come across. It felt like overkill for humans.
The Duck and Hound came into a view. Its white facade and dark grey slate roof stood out against the creams surrounding it. The broad building sat with a well-maintained lawn around it. Picnic benches could be seen around the back of the building offering people an outside space during the nicer weather. I listened for the usual expected sound of laughter and conversation that should have been coming from a pub. Nothing.
"Looks like they know we're coming," Ash said.
We stepped through the front door of a classic Scottish pub, dark old wood on every surface with dim gaslamp-esque lighting overhead and a lingering scent of whisky and lager. The sort of place that was ‘cosy’ if you liked it and ‘dismal’ if you didn’t. Given the company in the Duck and Hound, it was leaning to the latter.
The second we stepped through the door, a scatter of buckshot chewed up the wall behind us. Before I even had the chance to take in the room, Ash had drawn and fired a single shot from his right Colt that caught the shooter between the eyes. A woman matching Penelope’s description fell backwards over the bar, and all her people froze.
“They’re human. Save the ammo, we’ll do this the hard way,” I said after a quick scan of the group showed no sign of anything but human life force.
Ash holstered his pistol and started to respond, but a crossbow bolt from an unseen corner hit him in the gut and turned his presumably glib reply into a loud curse. A glance down showed the bolt had pierced his skin and nothing more, but it was trapped there nonetheless. With a sickening wet tear, he yanked it free, opening the wound fully as he did and leaving it as a long inch-deep gash along his right abdomen.
The frozen resistance movement all stared as he did, wincing at the sound. Looking pissed off and cocky, Ash strode up to the bar and grabbed the over-under double-barrel shotgun out of Penelope’s dead hands, emptying the remaining shell at point blank into the man to his left before swinging it around to hold by the barrel like a club.
“Well? Aren’t you supposed to be rebelling against the magical overclass? Grab a bottle or something, let’s do this.”
As if turned back on after a long period of cold storage, the room slowly came to life. Getting into the barfight spirit, I picked up a pool cue from the table and faced the crowd, sizing up targets. A glass flew at my head and I ducked, coming back up with the cue aimed for the balls of a scarred old man in jeans that had clearly seen some fights in his time.
He might have been tough, but he wasn’t a eunuch, and he faded backwards into the crowd with a grunt, clutching himself and gritting his teeth. The next one up had a pool cue of his own. He telegraphed a lateral strike to my temple and I made a quick stroke to his chin before he could land the blow. I heard a crunch and his jaw hung limp, obviously broken. I expected him to follow his friend back into th
e crowd, but he stood his ground and stared me down, daring me to follow up.
Several more crowded up beside him, mercifully unarmed, and I began to feel the tide of battle turning. The sound of breaking grass a breaking furniture was escalating from somewhere behind the group, which meant that Ash was doing his part but unlikely to even the odds anytime soon. It was looking like time for some of that magical oppression I’d heard so much about.
Pool cue still resolutely outstretched, I reached for a vial of sunlight and opened it, plucking out a few threads and weaving them into a burst of light that left the bar patrons blinded and dazed. I swung my cue at roughly head height, hoping to take down the whole line and gain myself some breathing room, but it inconveniently shattered on the first skull it contacted.
Grumbling, I grabbed its partner off the table and opened my biggest vial of earth, hoping they’d stay quiet long enough to do a bit more magic. I took out several threads and slipped them into the cue, transmuting a good few centimetres of it into a rod of steel that would provide a hidden core strong enough to keep it intact through anything short of a sword duel without making it immediately apparent that I’d changed anything. Seeing that I still had time, I used what was left to harden my skin for the blow that I knew would have to land eventually. No reason to waste health potions, after all. By the time the humans had recovered from my little flash grenade, I had gone from Jackie Chan to the daughter of Gaia.
A big guy in leather tried to smash a chair over my head and was shocked when it smashed to kindling against my cue. Before he could recover, I brought the makeshift weapon forward and cracked him across the cheekbones, smashing his nose and knocking him on his back. That made two in my growing heap of sleeping beauties, enough to provide at least a little barrier to advance.
Taking advantage of the space, I began to swing my cue at full extension like a staff, grateful for the weapons training the Knights insisted on even for “casters” as Ash would put it. The added weight and strength of my magical enhancement was enough to make it effective where a normal pool cue would have been more a slap than a strike, and again surprise was on my side as the humans failed to recognize the changes I’d made while they were blinded.