by Martha Carr
“We are all magical, human, shifter, and elf alike.” Lucius took a deep breath and created an orb of energy.
He pushed the orb over the crowd and the wolves tilted their heads upward as it spun in circles, spraying the crowd with a mist of energy. The calm could be felt by every creature, forcing their hearts to slow and their anxieties to diminish. Lucius needed them to listen, to let go of that fear and see themselves as one pack instead of individuals.
I call on all of you to figure out what is most important to you and fight for that, Lucius projected. We are a pack—a family connected by our innermost magical workings—and together we will break the terror that hangs over our heads. The power of the dark families continues to grow. They want to rule this world, and we stand in their way. Their darkness is coming; we all can feel it, magical or not, and we need to help defeat it. I have stood in its wake and felt the rage of the dark mist surge through me, and it is truly something to be feared. If it grips our homes, our families, and our loved ones, no one will be left standing.
There was a surge of yips and growls and the crowd pawed the ground. Lucius felt the energy flowing through the shifters and their connection growing stronger. The fur on the back of his neck bristled as he sensed another presence.
“Well, well, well,” a voice called from beyond the pack. “I told you guys I saw some sort of light magic over here.”
The wolves snapped their heads around to look at a group of young witches and wizards led by a tall and slender blond boy. He tapped his wand in his hand, dark sparks shooting out and landing on the ground every time it hit his palm. Lucius took a deep breath; dark energy emanated from the dozen people walking toward the shifters. They were members of the dark families and used the park to gather and practice spells. They were punk-ass kids, but Lucius could tell there were several very powerful ones among them.
“You dogs don’t belong here,” the boy snarled. “This is our turf. Go back to your suburban homes and forget about this washed-up old Light Elf in wolf’s clothing.”
Lucius growled and his lip twitched, revealing his large white fangs. The boy chuckled, halting the group about ten feet from the shifters. He smirked at the rest of the werewolves disdainfully as they dug their sharp claws into the ground, their hackles standing on end.
Calmly, Lucius told the shifters. We don’t want a battle unless they start one.
A short wiry-haired girl pushed her way to the front and stood next to the boy. She smirked as well, twirling her wand to create a streak of light in the shape of the infinity sign. Lucius growled louder, remembering that symbol from the followers of Rhazdon hundreds of years before. They were taunting him, and it was obvious they knew exactly who he was.
“You are no leader.” The girl cackled. “You couldn’t even stay alive during the first fight. You let that old hag Rhazdon send you into the World in Between. No puppy chow there!”
The group laughed and one of the shifters stepped forward, growling loudly, his hair standing up like a mohawk down his back and he snapped his jaws as he edged closer. The girl’s smirk faded and she grabbed the wizard’s arm in alarm. The shifter growled again and again, pushing the group of wizards and witches back a few more feet each time.
“ENOUGH!” the young wizard yelled. A swish of his wand sent a streak of light through the air and it hit the bold shifter on the side, sending him flying.
The shifter whimpered as he skidded to a stop on the grass and several other shifters ran to his side. They licked the wolf and nudged him with their noses to find any sign of life. Slowly the injured shifter wagged his tail, rolled over, and pushed up on his back paws.
Lucius tipped his head toward the moon and let out a loud howl that echoed over the park. All of the shifters followed suit, howling loudly before getting to their hind legs and charging the wizards and witches.
The group spread out and sent fireballs into the large pack. Some shifters jumped to the side while others yelped, their fur singed and smoking.
As Lucius pulled the energy from the ground the white light swirled around his front legs and his eyes glowed brighter. One after another he threw orbs of magic at the wizards, knocking several off their feet.
The tall young wizard came forward with a scowl on his face and no trace of fear in his eyes. He thrust out his wand and screamed a spell. “Bendus Vasculas!”
The stream of bright-green light that shot from his wand slammed into one of the wolves, who grabbed his chest as he flew backward and returned to his human form. The wizard laughed loudly and strode forward to stand over the middle-aged man, who was unable to protect himself now that magic was holding back his wolf. The wizard twisted his wand over his head, gathering energy until a single dark orb swirled at the end of it. He pointed the wand at the man and cackled, ready to strike him dead.
Lucius howled and took off across the lawn with his teeth bared as his magic pushed him to run faster. The wizard looked up, his eyes wide, just as Lucius lunged at him and rolled with him across the lawn.
Everything in Lucius wanted to chew through the kid’s throat, but he knew that it would do no good. They would not play into the myths and legends of werewolves being ruthless killers. Lucius got up to growl and snap at the wizard, watching the kid’s face with pleasure as tears formed in his eyes.
Slowly Lucius backed away and raced over to help the injured shifter.
The middle-aged man seethed as he shook the remnants of the dark magic from his skin so that he could shift back into his wolf. He was a descendant of the first shifters, and thus a lot stronger than the human ones. He snarled at the wizards as he took two steps forward toward the group. The wizard jumped to his feet and sent a fireball flying toward Lucius, his teeth clenched in anger.
Lucius avoided it just in time and light burst from his chest to collide with the fireball, sending it flying back toward the wizard. It hit him squarely in the chest, throwing him into a tree. Lucius heard the snap of his spine from across the park and the lifeless body of the young wizard slid down the tree, his eyes forever open.
“Nooo!” The frizzy-haired witch screamed, staring in horror at the wizard. “Retreat!”
She swirled her wand over her head, creating black smoke that concealed her body, and when the wind blew the smoke away the girl was gone. The other witches and wizards continued to fight the wolves. They threw magic toward them and rolled across the grasses in physical struggles. Lucius took a deep breath and stood on his hind legs, stretching his forelegs out to his sides. He pulled the energy from the earth beneath his paws, light shining from his front legs and out of his mouth.
STOP! His telepathic command sent a wave of energy outward to catch everyone’s attention.
The pack looked at their Alpha. The wizards and witches grabbed their injured, opening portals and disappearing. One opened a portal and dragged the body of the young wizard inside and it closed with a loud bang.
Lucius scanned the shifters, seeing wolves with patches of fur missing and others limping back to the main pack. More than three dozen of them had been injured, although they had doled out a modicum of magical pain to the dark wizards. Still, the death of one of them had been unfortunate, however necessary. Lucius knew it would only fan the flames of the hatred Sirius had for the wolves. He didn’t like those who disobeyed orders, and that was exactly what the shifters had done when he had trapped them just a year before.
Everyone, go home. Tend to your wounds and rest, Lucius told them sternly. I will be back to call on you. Listen for the whisper of the word. There are battles coming, and we must be ready. This was nothing compared to what I have seen.
Lucius watched the wolves make their way out of the park much more slowly than they had arrived. He hadn’t anticipated a fight, but then again he never did. The dark families were growing stronger by the day, and they were bringing the fight to the shifters’ doorstep.
It could only get worse from there.
Leira tossed back and forth as she dre
amed, seeing–feeling–something wrong. She whimpered when she saw hundreds of bright yellow eyes through the darkness in her dream. They didn’t frighten her, but the darkness around them did. There was a burn in her chest, and something pulled her white light toward the darkness. There were shrieks and screams in the background and something that sounded like a battle, but all she could see were the yellow eyes.
In her dream, her throat compressed as if someone’s hands were wrapped around it. She raised her hands and shook her head, her mouth wide as she tried to claw at the invisible force. The yellow eyes slowly faded, and in their place was a huge red fireball flying straight for her face. Its magic was too strong to block.
Suddenly Leira sat straight up in the bed, and her eyes opened wide and she clawed at her chest. She had felt a jolt of dark magic. Something strong, then nothing, as if someone had died. The burning quickly dissipated and she flipped on the bedside light, breathing heavily and rubbing her chest and throat. She could still feel that pull of the dark magic, but there was nothing there. She sent out an orb and searched the room for a magical trail, but there was nothing.
Yumfuck cracked open the door and jumped into the bed, shrinking and climbing onto Leira’s shoulder.
“A nightmare?” He curled up against her neck.
“I don’t know,” Leira mused, swallowing hard. “It felt so real…and those eyes.”
“The yellow ones?” Yumfuck asked.
“You saw it too?”
Yumfuck nodded and rubbed his furry face against hers.
“You are awake now. Everything is okay,” the troll cooed.
Leira took a deep breath and slowly let it out, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She put her hand up and Yumfuck jumped onto it, balancing as she lowered him onto Correk’s pillow. He was still absent on Fixer duties. Yumfuck curled into a ball and looked at Leira as she laid back down and turned on her side to face him.
“Just a dream,” Yumfuck whispered.
“It felt like a vision,” Leira countered, exhausted from the event. “It felt like dark magic was strangling me from the inside out.”
She turned over on her back, leaving the light on. Something was brewing, and whatever it was had her in its sights. She didn’t know what had happened that night, but events were getting closer to home.
8
Louie walked down the sidewalk as people hustled in and out of doors dressed in their best suits and tennis shoes as they made their way out for lunch. Strange.
He had admitted to Leira that he was part-human, but he wasn’t ready to embrace that side. He was more comfortable with his magical abilities.
“Good afternoon.” Louie smiled, nodding his head with a short salute to the street merchant selling knockoff wallets and movies that were obviously black market.
“Morning, Louie,” the tall and robust black man called in a deep, low voice. “Need anything today?”
“No, I’m good, but best of luck to you.” He smiled, turning the corner and looking at the enormous gateway in front of him. “Ahh…home.”
Louie had talked Leira into keeping him on her team when she split from the government a year before and took the job with Turner. He didn’t know why he asked to stay on the team since he missed Oriceran and his table at the dark market, but he wasn’t sure he could go back. Besides, his sword had told him to stay and bond with Leira and help her, and who was he to question a talking sword?
He had packed the little array of items he’d had in Austin, Texas and followed Leira and Correk to DC. He was on his own for the most part, especially after Leira broke from Turner, so he found himself a little apartment between 5th and 8th in Chinatown over the Two Lion Chinese Restaurant. It was the Friendship Gateway, though, that had really drawn him to the area. It was fantastical, reminding him of some of the more interesting places he had found on Oriceran. Ornate structures, people clinging to their heritage, recreating their land right in the center of a metropolis; there was something about it that made him feel at home. The Chinese food didn’t hurt either. It was hands-down the best invention humans had ever come up with.
“Mr. Hou,” Louie called as he entered the restaurant, putting his hands together and bowing slightly to the owner.
“Louie, rent is due in five days,” Mr. Hou told him, waving his spatula.
“I know, Mr. Hou, and you know I will make sure you are the first to get paid,” Louie replied, picking up his pace toward the staircase in the back.
He took the stairs two at a time and pulled out a jangling ring of keys. He painstakingly addressed each of the four locks, whispering incantations to remove the protection spells with his wand tucked in front of him. He swung open the door and closed it behind him, locking it again and shoving his wand into the front pocket of his pants. When he was secure inside he let out a sigh and tossed his bag on the old and dusty couch that had been there when he moved in. He sauntered over to the fridge and looked inside, raising an eyebrow. There were two bottles of soda and a container of leftover dumplings. He sighed and grabbed the Coke, perching on a chair and looked around.
“It’s definitely not my cottage back on Oriceran, but it will do.”
The apartment was small: one bedroom, one bathroom, and the rest open floor space with a tiny kitchen shoved in the back corner. Louie winced as he looked at the oven, remembering the first time he’d tried to use the thing. It had been a smoky, almost fiery mess and he had promised Mr. Hou that henceforth he would let them do any cooking he needed done down in the restaurant. The rest of the place was simple: shelves of artifacts he had collected stored in neat little boxes from this amazing outlet he had found called The Dollar Store. Everything was magically just one of those human dollar things. Across the room in a special glass case was a dried-up piece of tentacle Louie had found wrapped around the end of his boot after he’d lost Monaghan’s business associates in a quest for ore on Oriceran—not one of his best moments.
The rest of the room contained a couple of pieces of dusty furniture and a wide-open space Louie had carved out to do a little practice with his sword. He had quickly learned in Central Park that he couldn’t just go swinging the thing around anywhere, so he’d needed a place to practice. Louie got up and set his perspiring Coke on the small end table next to the couch, and walked over to a tall wooden cabinet in the corner of his bedroom. There was a large square lock around the doors with no keyhole or combination. Louie leaned down and whispered, tapping the lock with his wand as sparks drifted from his lips.
“Lock Delink.”
The lock glowed bright-blue and started to shake, clink, and clank, and with a quiet shudder it disengaged. Louie swung the doors wide and stared in at his sword. He kept it there when he wasn’t home to ensure it was safe and secure. When he grabbed the hilt he could feel the warm surge of energy course up his arm.
He walked from the room holding the sword in front of him with both hands, gazing at the shimmering blade. Practice. The sword was talking to him again, and he knew that it was in his best interests to listen to it. He stood in the center of his apartment and slowly swung it in front of him to warm up. It felt perfect in his hands, as if it had been made for him.
Swing right, step with your left foot, jab, turn, swing low.
“You’re my teacher too, apparently.” Louie chuckled, shrugged, and followed the instructions.
He danced through the apartment, swinging high, swinging low, jabbing, and spinning. With every move, the sword instructed him further until he was going through the movements of his own accord. Louie had never been much of a swordfighter, relying on his magic for defense, but there was a sense of control with the weapon that called to him.
Louie spun, raised the sword high, and sliced downward, stopping just inches from the old Persian rug under his feet. He breathed heavily, sweat covering his forehead. The smell of fried rice wafted up through the vents as the sound of his phone buzzed in his bag, drawing his attention from his practice. He straightened up, kissi
ng the hilt of his sword and slid it into an old umbrella bucket by the couch.
He rifled through his bag and finally pulled out the burner phone Leira had given him, flipping it open to see a message from her.
Come to the house tomorrow morning. We need to talk.
“Okay.” Louie wiggled his fingers to ready them to text back.
He pressed a few buttons as autocorrect took over. “Fuck!” He pushed faster as a heart emoji popped up and he accidentally hit send. “That’s going to be awkward. Shit… Willl beee there,” he said, as he carefully typed. “And send.”
He turned the phone over in his hand and smiled as he glanced at the lights sparkling outside his window. It had been too long since he had talked to Leira, and he was ready for some action.
Leira sat in the dark house, feet propped up on the coffee table and the blue glow of the television illuminating the space. It was after midnight, but she couldn’t relax. The television blared loudly as it switched over to infomercials of hurricane-fur wizards or dancing tiki lights. Leira picked up the remote and muted it, leaning her head back against the couch.
“I wish my mom was here,” she whispered.
Leira jumped as her phone rang and sat up quickly, hoping it was a call from one of her informants. An artifact search would definitely cut through the anxiety and boredom she had been feeling. She leaned forward and grabbed her phone, smiling at the name on the screen.
“Hello there, Mom!” she exclaimed.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Leira sighed. “No, I couldn’t sleep so I was just drowning my brain in infomercials.”
“Did you know they make an all-in-one craft machine?”
Leira laughed, glancing at her screen. Great minds... “How is Don?”