by Jayne Hawke
It wasn’t long before the group started taking me seriously, circling out around me, breaking bottles grabbed from nearby tables and preparing for the classic bottling Scotland was so famous for. I turned with them, putting my back against the pool table and placing the stick into a defensive pose.
My hope for an orderly one-by-one advance B-movie style didn’t come true, each man and woman moving slowly towards me in unison. I lashed out at them, but the ones that had lasted this long were surprisingly well trained and had learned to respect the improved weapon in my hands. Each stepped back to avoid my blow, returning to their spot the moment it was safe.
Frustrated that a bar brawl was turning into a battle, I shoved off the table with my left foot at the biggest of the group, a hulking beast of a man that could have passed for a red cap halfblood if I hadn’t known better. Expecting another standing strike, he was caught off balance when I pressed forward, and I took great pleasure in the sound of his sternum snapping as I slammed my weapon home. I followed up with a quick blow to the bridge of the nose, and no more than a second from my step out from the pool table, he was a candidate for intensive care - and I was clear of the circle.
Taking the offensive, I turned to my right and began swiftly working through the two men and four women that made up that wing, a series of quick and showy strikes making a path through the shocked fighters as the weapon swept up and over my shoulders and back down into blow after blow.
Sadly, as quick as I was, I just wasn’t the warrior of our pair, and in the several seconds it took me to push through the group their friends recovered and came up behind me. I felt a hard shove at my lower back, accompanied by the crunching sound of breaking bottle glass. I realized a moment later that someone had stabbed me, or tried to, my stony flesh turning the bottle to shards. I swept around to see a shocked man with his hand bleeding profusely. He put both hands up and backed away, as did his friends.
Within a second, they were running, all five out the front door and gone. I turned around and saw Ash land a brutal right hook on the last remaining anti-shifter activist, who turned out to be the man I’d cracked in the bollocks at the very beginning of proceedings. He was bloody but unbowed, giving a tired-looking Ash a run for his money. Hefting my cue into an overhand grip, I casually tossed it like a javelin, a beautiful throw that caught the man in the temple and threw him out of the way of a Chuck Norris roundhouse and through a table. He hit the ground cold, and Ash gave me a look of feigned outrage before cracking a smile as he surveyed the shattered remains of the bar.
Ash grabbed the sawn-off shotgun and practically strutted to me. I saw the blood on his shirt and the stiffness in his leg. He was hiding injuries.
"I needed that. It's been a while since I had a good brawl," Ash said.
"There are fewer bigots in the world at least."
I lifted his shirt to check the deep wound there left by the crossbow bolt. The healing woven into his tattoos had staunched the bleeding, but it was going to need a good bit of salve to heal it entirely. Blood had blossomed on his thigh, which given the series of cuts in his jeans I assumed came from a broken bottle. Ash casually pulled more shards of glass out of his left upper arm.
"They do love bottling people in this part of the world," Ash said as he tossed the glass away.
I frowned at him before he picked the glass back up. He knew better than to leave some of his blood lying around like that. Reaching into what was left on the glass, I pulled out any threads of magic that might tie it back to him. There was no reason to give someone the ability to control him or track us down, after all.
"Come on, we have healing stuff back at the apartment."
He put his arm around my shoulders and held onto the shotgun.
"Are you saying you really didn't enjoy that just a little?"
"Fine. It was kind of nice flexing my hand-to-hand skills a little bit. Just a little bit!"
Ash had stripped down to his boxers while I pulled out our healing kit. None of the injuries were bad enough to worry about stitches, thankfully. This was going to use a good bit of our healing supplies, though. Going into the field injured made us too vulnerable. It wasn't a risk we took if we had a choice.
I began by gently cleaning the crossbow wound on Ash's abdomen. He frowned down at me as I moved slowly trying to be efficient without causing him unnecessary pain.
"Don't worry about it. The pain won't slow me down," he said with a shrug.
"You don't need to pretend around me," I said softly.
Looking up into his green eyes, I smiled.
"We're partners. I know how much this hurts, so stop bull shitting me, ok?"
He relaxed a little. I hated when he put on a front to pretend to be some alpha male that never felt pain. It was ridiculous. I'd had injuries like the ones he currently sported. I knew how much they hurt.
It took most of our healing salve to fix the wound from the crossbow bolt, as I'd expected. We'd have to stock up soon. Ash was shifting his weight from foot to foot impatiently as I gently applied the salve to his glass injuries on his arm.
"I'm starving. Do we have anything to eat?"
Healing always did make you hungry.
"Yea, we have some baked stuff from the shifters, I think."
His eyes lit up.
"I'd forgotten about that!"
"You're all good."
He vaulted over the couch and headed towards the baked goods like a homing missile. I raced after him and tried to wrestle the box out of his hands so I'd get a chance to taste them before he inhaled them all. Being a knight was weird sometimes.
EIGHTEEN
Ash had devoured every last crumb of the baked goods the pack had been kind enough to give us.
"Do you think they'll give us some more of those cookies?"
"I think we should be more concerned about whether Ben will talk to us," I said.
"We can think about both," Ash said with a contagious smile.
The tension could be felt throughout the city as we drove over to the Steel Heart pack house. There were whispers all over social media about the shifter situation. Sides were forming, and it wasn't looking great for the shifters.
Magic bubbled up at the border of Sighthill. Thick ribbons of defensive magic that scraped over my skin checking magic and intent. Ash slowed the car as we began passing through it. The magic parted in a gentle wave, allowing us through. The shards running along the edges of the ribbons gave me the impression that those who didn't pass the test would be torn to shreds. Literally. The pack had clearly paid a talented witch or fae for such protections.
Further security measures were in place, forming concentric rings as we got closer to the pack house. Ash slowed for each one. I noted that the shards and barbs on the ribbons grew with each layer. The final layer was practically a wall of fire.
Rhian answered the door, looking exhausted and flustered. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, and she wore an over-sized t-shirt and yoga pants.
"Ben's up and awake, he should be able to answer your questions. I'll be in the room with you," she said around a yawn.
"Thanks," I said.
"Do you want to get some coffee before we start?" Ash asked.
Rhian waved her hand at him.
"No, I've had five pots. The caffeine isn't working any more, and shifters are immune to that pixie dust stuff."
"That's a shame, it gives a real kick when you're having a long night," Ash said.
Rhian made an acknowledgement sound and began leading us up the stairs presumably to Ben's room. The stairs opened out into a large landing area with two comfortable-looking armchairs against the far wall. There were wide hallways leading off in both directions. Rhian led us down the left hallway. There was a large space between each heavy white door, which suggested the rooms were of a good size.
Ash gave me a nudge and nodded towards them to remind me that pack life wasn't so bad.
"How has Ben been?" I asked.
"U
pset. He heard of the problems with the anti-shifter groups. He feels guilty about it all, but there's nothing he can do. Thank you, for helping with that last night. I heard that you defended our name. I appreciate that."
"It's what we're here for," Ash said brightly.
I shook my head at him. He was just angling for more cookies.
Rhian knocked on the last door on the right.
"Ben, the knights are here."
"Come in," Ben called back.
Rhian undid the heavy padlocks on the door.
"Has he tried to break out?" I asked.
"No. These are just to be sure."
Rhian opened the door to reveal a tidy bedroom complete with a desk arranged for sketching and painting. A set of shelves stood next to the desk which overflowed with painting materials. Paints in every conceivable shade, brushes in all shapes and materials, and a few canvases leaning against the wall.
Ben was a lean guy who didn't look much past eighteen. He kept his eyes down as Rhian walked into his room. Rhian made herself comfortable on the seat in front of the desk and said nothing while another pack member locked the door behind us.
"I'm Rowan, this is Ash."
"You're the knights here to figure out what's going on," Ben said.
"We are."
Ben sat on the edge of his bed and sighed.
"Everything was normal. I was struggling with something on my latest painting and went out to clear my head, then there was a blinding murderous rage. I've never been like that. Yes, I hunt with the pack, but that's for food. There has never been any anger or desire to inflict pain before. This was all consuming. I fought against it as hard as I could, but there was nothing I could do. I'm glad my pack stopped me from doing the unthinkable."
"Was there anything weird in the run up to the incident?" I asked.
"Not that I can think of. I have a pretty comfortable routine. I like to get coffee in the brownie place Starkroast. I normally have a brownie with my coffee while I check social media and generally unwind. It's a pretty eclectic place; you can meet puka, pixies, humans, shifters, there are all walks of life there. Then I like to go for a walk through town; I might wander through the forest in my wolf form. I paint through dusk and the early evening. Sometimes I might talk to a puka in the coffee shop, but otherwise I only socialise with pack."
"And what do you do for the pack?"
"I'm a tracker, artist, and I recently started doing a bit of admin in our newest art gallery."
Nothing stood out or sounded weird. He'd spoken evenly without any signs of lying or deception.
"Any drugs?" Ash asked.
I elbowed him for being so direct.
"No, never."
"Did you know Rory from the Shadow Hunt pack?"
"We got coffee a couple of times. He was hoping to get a job at one of our galleries. We don't hire outside of the pack, though."
"How did Rory take that news?"
Ben shrugged.
"He knows how the shifter world is. I get it, it's hard for new blood, but we have to look after our own."
There was nothing there. Frustration welled up within me. We had to be missing something here.
"How are you feeling now?" Ash asked.
Ben swallowed.
"It's within me. I'm fighting it as hard as I can, but I don't know how long I can last."
It was rude to reach out and feel someone's magic, but I didn't have much of a choice. Exhaling slowly, I reached my mind out and tried to feel Ben's magic. Every shifter had complicated knotted magic, but his was a black swirling mass of knots that I couldn't get a handle on. I hadn't seen the like of it anywhere.
Ash glanced at me. I gave a small nod. We'd discuss it in the car.
"You piss off any witches or fae?" Ash asked.
"No, I keep to myself. You're the first witches I've met, and the fae I've dealt with have all seemed nice enough."
Ash narrowed his eyes.
"We're trying to save you and lots of innocent lives here..." Ash pushed.
"Fine. There was a dullahan earlier this year. He was trying to extend his hunting grounds through to Sighthill, and I told him I'd rip him apart if he so much as looked at someone in Sighthill funny. He didn't take it too well, but I never saw him again."
Dullahan were headless horsemen. They hunted at night, stealing people away to some plane only they could access. Some people thought they had larders of people much like wendigo amassed over in America. No one could be entirely sure, as only the dullahan had access to that plane, and the fae weren't willing to give anyone details on what happened.
As far as I was aware, dullahan couldn't form curses or anything that would cause what had happened to Ben. They simply hunted and disappeared to their plane. Still, it was worth looking into on the off chance he had other fae friends who were willing to curse the shifter. It was a very tenuous clue, but we didn't have anything else to go on right then.
"Thanks for your time, Ben," I said.
"We'll probably be back," Ash said.
Rhian knocked on the door and whoever was outside let us out.
"Do you happen to have some more of those cookies?" Ash asked Rhian.
"What Ash means is, thank you for the wonderful baked goods last time. We appreciated them very much and would love to buy some more from your bakery when we're next in the area," I said.
"No, I meant can I have some more cookies?" Ash said with his most charming smile.
And that was why I didn't take him into delicate situations.
NINETEEN
"Dude, seriously, with the cookies?" I asked as soon as we got into the car.
They had not given us more free cookies. They had given us a business card for their biggest bakery.
"They're really good cookies!"
"You don't just ask for free shit from people! Especially when we're supposed to be saving their packmate!"
"You don't ask, you don't get," Ash said with an unrepentant grin.
"Alright, so Ben didn't really give us anything other than this dullahan link. What are the chances this dullahan got together with a magic-wielding fae to take him down?"
Ash rocked his hand back and forth as we pulled away.
"Seems unlikely to me. Dullahan don't have that many fucks to give, and why turn the other shifters rogue, too?"
"Agreed. What about the cafe and brownie link?"
Ash slowed as we approached the first set of security magic.
"Come on, brownies are the sweetest little things."
"Little? They're usually bigger than me."
"Exactly," Ash said as he ruffled my hair.
I glared daggers at him.
"Brownies have been known to be harmful when they feel offended or under appreciated."
"Yea but they make a mess of your home, throw some paperwork around, maybe smash a frame. Nothing like this. And why only the shifters? Shifters are one of the hardest beings to influence with magic. Why not go after the pixies and such? Pixies can be ungrateful asses."
I sighed. He had a point.
My phone beeped. I opened it up to find a text from Morrigan, a knight of the traditional Fae-Isle-named generation a few years older than us. Personally, I'd feel a bit weird being named after the Tuatha of crows, war, and death, but there were worse things.
Looks like that creepy ass zoo guy tried to take an unusual witch last night. She got away.
"The guy with the supernatural zoo tried to take a witch last night. He's getting ballsy."
"Why is no one stepping up and stopping him? I mean, come on, these are sentient beings, here," Ash said.
"I expect that he has a lot of money and political sway. People like this usually do."
"That's no excuse. What happened to protecting and helping your fellows?"
"That's why we exist."
Ash shook his head in disgust.
"You know there's not enough money in the world to make a knight betray another knight like that," Ash said.
"Actually, Iris sold out Brock about a decade ago. Someone paid her half a million, and she looked the other way when someone kidnapped him," I said.
"No way, that's just some rumour to make the coven look bad."
"There's a whole trail of paperwork and evidence," I said.
"That can be faked."
"Why are you so pro the coven? It's not like they gave us a rosy childhood."
"Because we fight for what's right. We protect those who can't protect themselves."
"And we're still people! With flaws! We fuck up and make the wrong decision sometimes."
"So, what happened with this witch? Anything we need to look into?"
"Maybe. They're trying to figure out where the owner of the zoo is based. If he's around Edinburgh, we'll be expected to take his case."
"We need more knights," Ash grumbled.
"If we had more numbers, the fae and god touched would start getting twitchy about us interfering too much, and they'd eliminate us. Keeping our numbers where they are allows us to good without drawing too much ire from them."
"Gods, I hate politics."
"You and me both."
We continued the drive in silence. I was trying to piece together what we had to see the connection between the shifters and between the victims. So far nothing had come up to link the victims, and the crows hadn't said anything about the bear that killed the shifter.
"Have the crows forgotten about the info they owe us?" I asked.
"I expect someone offered them something more interesting and/or shiny and they decided to go do that. You know how unreliable they are," Ash said.
"I swear half of this job is finding good people to help us out."
"Did you feel something inside of Ben? Can that give us a lead?"
"There was definitely something weird, but I couldn't figure out what it was."