“You won’t be able to smell the difference,” she smiled at me, “but the shifters will.”
“You need to drink, too,” said Marcus, pushing the bottle into Clara’s hands.
“No, no, don’t waste it on me. You will need all you can get tonight.”
“But you’re coming with us,” said Ryan. “It’s not safe for you here. We’ll take you back to Raynard Hall.”
“Yes, please?” Marcus begged, his features softening, becoming more puppy-like. “Come with us so we can protect you.”
“Thank you for your concern,” she said. “But I’m not leaving this house.”
“You have to,” Ryan said. “Isengrim could–”
“And a tree could fall on me tomorrow.” Clara held out her hands in supplication. “Whatever is meant to happen, will happen. This is my home, Ryan, and I’m not leaving it. Besides, I can do little to assist you from inside that great dusty manor of yours. My magic is much more powerful here, where my power is centred.”
Ryan looked like he was ready to drag her out to the car, but Melissa called from her chair beside the window. “I hate to break up this darling little family reunion, but it’s getting late. We need to get to the graveyard.”
“Right. Yes. Of course.” Ryan sighed. He wrapped his mother in a fierce embrace. “Stay safe.”
“I’ll stay with her,” said Marcus. “She should have someone here guarding her, in case Isengrim discovers her existence.”
Ryan looked like he was ready to argue, but Marcus stepped closer to Clara, and placed his arm around his shoulder. His snout flicked out of his face, then receded again. Let him stay, I willed Ryan. He hardly knows her. Give him a chance to learn about himself, about his past, without all of us around him.
Clara clamped her hand on Marcus’s arm. “You are welcome to stay, my son, as long as Ryan doesn’t need you. The cemetery could be dangerous.”
Ryan’s eyes met mine. His hard, determined expression softened. Although he spoke to Clara, his eyes were fixed on mine. “Having Marcus along usually does more harm than good. He should stay.” Ryan whirled around, his eyes blazing at his brother. “But if you hurt her, or cause her to be hurt, in any way, I will rip your heart from your chest and eat it in front of you, do you understand?”
Marcus glared back at him, his fox ears flicking up from the side of his head, before turning back into normal human ears again. It seemed as if he were gaining more control over his erratic shifting. He nodded slowly.
Ryan sighed. “I don’t like this, but what choice do I have? Come on, let’s get in the car.”
10
The witches’ cemetery was located on a hilltop overlooking the surrounding countryside. It was actually quite a picturesque spot. To the north you could see Crookshollow village spread out across the valley, the green sweep of the forest encircling it like a protective wall. To the southwest was rolling farmland, the green fields dotted here and there with sheep and goats. And if you came up late enough at night, you could see a green haze to the southeast – the lights of London casting a sickly, radioactive glow upon the horizon.
English Heritage had erected a lookout point beside the cemetery, and fenced in a proper car park with some information boards. But the spot wasn’t that popular with tourists – there weren’t many graves still standing, and the Victorian cemetery in the village was much more impressive and had a coffee cart out the front. The only people who came up here with any frequency were teenagers looking for an out-of-the-way spot to smoke pot and make out.
And, of course, malicious lycanthropes, vulpines and other supernatural shifters looking to perform dark magic.
We drove past the car park and continued up the hill. “This way, they won’t pass our car on the road,” said Kylie, as she parked on the verge under a large, gnarled oak. The branches curled down, forming a kind of cave that hid the car from view from the road, unless you were really looking for it. We jumped out, and Kylie and I grabbed our weapons from the boot. Kylie had found a leather belt to hold my scabbard, and I gripped the hilt so hard my hand started to cramp.
“Is that how you’re going to the cemetery?” Miss Havisham asked, regarding my black outfit with a disdainful look. “Oh, dear.”
“You’re going in that?” I pointed to Miss Havisham’s bright calico sundress, glowing like a beacon under the moonlight.
She smiled. Her face began to change, her cheeks hollowing, her chin receding and her mouth rounding off. White fur sprouted from her cheeks and her ears grew out of her face in sharp points, moving toward the top of her head as she shrunk down inside her dress. A few seconds later and all that was left of her was a tiny lump moving about inside the billowing skirt. I lifted the hem and my cat streaked out, butting my leg with her head and giving me a smug look.
“Fine,” I said, watching as she grabbed the hem of her dress and dragged it back up into the car. I turned to Ryan. “Are you going to shift?”
He shook his head. “In our fox forms, our scents will be too obvious for Isengrim and his pack to pick up. As it is, we have to focus all our energy on closing our minds to the call, so the other vulpines won’t know we’re here.”
Miss Havisham led us down a thin sheep trail leading through a dense forest, her tail high in the air like a radar. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but my feet crunched over leaves and snapped twigs, every sound like a gunshot echoing through the silent forest. My heart pounded in my chest. I was certain at any moment Isengrim would pounce from the bushes and sink his teeth in my neck.
After we walked for around fifteen minutes, Miss Havisham stopped, her whiskers turned toward the heavens. Kylie yelped as she crashed into the back of Melissa.
“Shut up,” Melissa hissed.
“You shut up.” I bit back. Ryan squeezed my hand. Now is not the time, Alex. A voice echoed in my head. He was doing it again, sending me messages telepathically. Why couldn’t I do that to him?
I hate her. I thought furiously, wondering if he’d pick up on it. He squeezed my hand again.
We all bent down, hiding in the bushes on the outside of the cemetery. Miss Havisham sniffed the air, her nostrils flaring as if she smelt something unpleasant. I wondered if Isengrim had marked the cemetery as his, wishing I had an animal’s sense for these things.
We didn’t have to wait long. The moon shone so brightly that even without super-shifter vision I could see the dark shadows of Isengrim’s pack moving throughout the graves. They were all in animal form, and I could make out the shapes of deer, cats, dogs, badgers, and, of course, several foxes. I even thought I saw a couple of squirrels leaping over the stones.
A flock of ravens fluttered from the trees and landed amongst the group, some settling on the shoulders of foxes or the antlers of the stags, the others perching on the crumbling stones.
“Look how many of them there are,” Kylie whispered, gripping my hand.
I counted maybe a hundred shifters, and many more could be cloaked in the shadows of the cemetery. This was so much bigger than I had thought.
They sat in a large circle, facing into the centre, where Isengrim held court, his grey coat shimmering in the moonlight. Around his neck he wore a collar with a wooden keg attached – similar to the ones alpine rescue dogs wore. I bet Isengrim’s didn’t contain brandy, though. He appeared to be waiting for something, his tail wagging impatiently, his body like a coiled spring, poised to pounce.
When all animals were settled, Isengrim threw his head back and howled, long and low, the sound echoing through the valley. A great, deep rumble that chilled me to my core. Beside me, Kylie squeezed my hand tighter.
Isengrim bit off the seal on his keg, and trotted around the centre of the circle, spilling a dark liquid on to the ground, creating a trail through the weeds. I’d visited the Crookshollow Witchcraft Museum enough times to know that rituals usually occurred within circles, because the circle had no beginning or end – it was a powerful portal to the magical realms and allowed the
witches within to draw down tremendous power from their gods. I stared at the dark liquid pouring from the keg and wondered with a heavy heart if it was blood.
When he’d emptied his keg onto the ground, Isengrim lifted his leg and pissed on the edge of the circle. The rest of the animals followed suit, squatting or raising their own legs to drench the circle. The air filled with an acrid smell as their urine wafted toward us on the breeze.
Isengrim howled again, and this time he was joined by the voices of his pack. The stags roared – a deep, thundering bass tone that shook the ground. The dogs howled and barked, and the foxes lent their unique, shrieking howl on top of this cacophony. The ravens cawed, and various smaller animals yelped and chittered in. The sound was like a great wave washing over me, filling my ears, my nose, my mouth. I jammed my hands over my ears. Beside me, Kylie did the same, but it did nothing to alleviate the roaring cacophony that pounded against my skull.
As the animals continued their horrifying call, I saw something start to grow from the centre of the circle. It rose like a fog rolling over the hills in the morning – a dense cloud of grey light, swirling and twisting inside the circle as it rose higher, forming a plume of eerie, ethereal light. As I watched, mesmerised by that growing tower of shifting fog, the animals began to move around it, trotting anti-clockwise as they continued their horrible chant.
At the foot of the plume, something seemed to be forming in the fog. I leaned forward, squinting in the moonlight, trying to figure out what it was that was emerging. The fog shifted and swirled, forming shapes, and then ... faces appeared in the tower of fog – human faces made from light, their eyes sunken and their features contorted in agony, their mouths open in silent screams. The faces seemed to rise out of the ground, then float upward through the tower, screaming their horrible silent screams.
The animals’ chant grew louder, more insistent. The pillar of fog grew in circumference, reaching toward the edges of the circle. Isengrim stepped right up to the edge of the plume, dragging a sack in his mouth. The bottom of the sack bulged, and whatever was inside had stained the hessian a darker colour. Isengrim pulled his head back and tossed the sack into the plume.
The fog exploded before my eyes, and a great bright light blasted forth from the circle, blinding me. There was a loud boom, and the ground beneath me shuddered in protest. I fell back into the bushes, landing on Miss Havisham, who swiped at my face with her claws before darting away. I rubbed my eyes, waiting for the white lights dancing in front of my vision to fade so that I could see again.
My ears rang. I felt someone’s hand under my shoulders. Voices were speaking to me, but I couldn’t understand the words.
“... Alex … to get out of … now.”
The hands tugged me to my feet, dragging me back through the forest, back toward the car. I tried to look back at the graveyard, but I couldn’t see anything. The while orbs of light darted across my vision.
Something brushed against my face. A wing beat furiously against my ear. I reached up to try and lift whatever it was off, but thick wings beat at my hand, making it impossible to grab. The hands that held me were yanked away, leaving me alone to battle my winged assailant.
My shoulder exploded in pain. I couldn’t help it, I started to scream, my voice sounding hoarse and far away through my ringing ears, as if I were crying out underwater.
I grabbed at whatever it was that held me, and this time managed to grasp a handful of feathers. I tried to pull it off my shoulder, but this only made the pain worse. Something stabbed at my back. I felt wings beating against my chest, sharp beaks poking at the skin in my neck.
Ravens. They had to be. The vicious birds were pecking me to death. What a way to go. My teenage, gothic self would have taken great delight in this end. I closed my eyes. It will all be over soon ...
With a roar, the raven was torn off my shoulder, taking a not inconsiderable amount of my skin with it. I screamed as its talons tore at my flesh, my eyes flying open in time to see a flash of red dart in front of my eyes. Ryan. Of course it was Ryan.
He held a raven between his teeth, closing his jaw and, with a sickening crunch, snapping its neck. He tossed it aside, and leapt at me again, batting away another of the creatures with his giant paws and sharp teeth. I saw two birds dive at him from the tree above my head, but he leapt up and batted them out of the air, throwing them to the ground and pouncing on one with a sickening crack.
Kylie’s in danger, Ryan’s thought fell into my head, his voice as loud and clear as if he’d actually spoken. He stomped on the other raven, pulling off its head with one bite, and tossing it aside, the fur around his mouth stained with blood. Follow me. Use your sword.
I’d completely forgotten about the broadsword. I pulled the blade from its scabbard, remembering that the blade was dulled for re-enactment. I couldn’t cut anything with it, but it was a huge, heavy lump of metal. I could definitely cause some pain.
I followed Ryan around a corner in the park, and immediately I saw Kylie. She was backed up against a tree, her face white with fear. She had lost her mace, for her hands were empty, held up around her face in some vain attempt to protect herself. Two stags circled the tree, snorting and growling as they stomped their hooves against the dirt. I could see the sharp points of their antlers gleaming in the moonlight. One headbutt from those and Kylie would be eviscerated.
Gulping down my fear, I raced forward, lifted the sword above my head, and brought it down with all the force I could muster upon the nearest stag’s back, just behind its neck.
The stag turned its head, its eyes blazing with anger. For a moment I was worried I’d only anger it, and that it would turn those terrifying antlers toward me. But then its eyes rolled back in its head, and it collapsed to the ground.
Ryan was behind Kylie’s tree, his body crouched low to the ground, tail swooshing back and forth. The second stag lowered its horns, pulled its neck as low to the grounds as it dared, and snorted. It took a step backward, then lurched itself forward, running toward Ryan, its antlers poised to collide with my beautiful fox. Ryan leapt into the air, sailing toward the stag, aiming to land on its back. His body seemed to move in slow motion, hanging in the air, his long belly exposed to the stag’s deadly horns. He’d never make it.
I stepped forward to help him, but it was too late. The stag was much too fast. I had no hope to reach it in time. Any moment and it would be on him.
A white shape flew through the air and landed on the stag’s face. The stag roared in protest, its front legs collapsing underneath him as he struggled to shake off the offending animal. As the stag bent down, Ryan sailed over its back and landed on all fours on the soft ground, quickly bounding out of the way to avoid being stomped on by the stag’s heavy hooves.
“Rrrrroow! Roooooorrroooow!” I recognised that cry. It was Miss Havisham. She’d sunk her claws into the stag’s cheeks and was holding on for dear life. Sensing his chance, Ryan leapt on to the stag’s back, and sank his teeth into the flesh of its neck. The stag bucked frantically, and Ryan’s body flung up in the air, but he held on tight.
The stag bellowed in agony, and took off into the trees. Its buddy followed behind. I heard Ryan howling and Miss Havisham hissing as the stags crashed through the trees. I knew it would only be moments until the other shifters were on us. Kylie swayed on her feet, her knees buckling below her. I rushed forward and grabbed her as she crumpled into my arms, her breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. I pulled up her shoulders, throwing her arm around my neck. I had to get her moving, before she passed out and made our escape very, very difficult.
“Come on,” I dragged her forward. “We’ve got to get back to the car!”
“Its eyes …” Kylie mumbled. “They were red with blood …”
We crashed through the trees, blindly following Miss Havisham’s yowls. All around me, twigs snapped, and bushes rustled as Isengrim’s animals moved in around us, closing in for the kill. My lungs gasped for air, and my legs ach
ed, but still I poured on speed, dragging Kylie by the arm as she fought to keep up. I had no idea if I was going the right way, but I just knew we had to keep going. If we stopped, we became fox food.
Through the trees, I saw a light shining. At first, I thought it might be the moon, but as we closed in on it, I could see it was the car’s headlights. Kylie and I crashed through the trees, bolting across the car park just as Isengrim’s foxes broke through the treeline.
“Run!” I screamed at Kylie. She found her feet again, pulling ahead of me as she raced toward the car. From behind the wheel, Melissa pushed the back door open. Kylie dived inside, and I climbed in after her. A fox leapt up on to the seat, but I kicked it in the jaw, and it fell back on the tarmac. Melissa sped away, leaving the foxes standing in the car park, howling at us to come back and let them finish us off. I leaned back to slam the door shut.
I lay against Kylie, waiting for my heart to return to normal. “Where’s … Ryan?” I gasped between gulps of air.
“Here,” Ryan’s head appeared over the passenger seat, his ears undergoing the final stage of his shift back into human form. “I lost all my clothes again.”
“Don’t … be cute. That was fucking close. Kylie could have been mauled!”
“If you saw that stag in human form, you might not have minded so much,” said Melissa from behind the wheel. “Yum.”
“I nearly died, and you’re cracking fucking jokes!” Kylie yelled.
“Woah, easy. Ryan took care of it,” Melissa hurtled down the hill toward the village, taking the corners as if she were trying to finish the job those stags had started. “You were the ones who insisted on coming with us.”
Crookshollow foxes box set: The complete fox shapeshifter romance series Page 20