Ghosts of Winter: A Dark Shapeshifter Urban Fantasy (Echoes of the Past Book 2)

by H B Lyne

  As she jogged down a back alley there was a rattle of bin lids that stopped her in her tracks. She turned and crept silently towards the cluster of metal bins on the side of the alley. One of them was overflowing and Stalker sniffed her way carefully, trying to get past the smell of the contents of the bins to get to whatever had made the noise.

  She was a few feet away when a sudden movement stopped her; a regular fox darted out from between the bins into the alley right in front of her. She would have laughed if she was in human form. The fox stopped and looked her right in the eye. They stared at each other for a long few seconds.

  Suddenly the fox yelped and its middle scrunched inwards, like it had been crushed by a giant, invisible hand. Stalker leapt backwards, her breath quickened and her eyes darted all around. The fox dropped to the ground, dead, and as Stalker looked closer she saw that it was frozen solid.

  She felt the veil ripple and an elemental of ice crossed over right in front of her. It was roughly the size and shape of a bear, but with edges like cut crystal and it radiated freezing cold. Its heavy feet pounded on the tarmac, cracking it and planting a rapidly expanding patch of frost under each foot. It sniffed the air and its white eyes landed on Stalker.

  She shifted into her Agrius form and took a defensive stance. She hoped that a show of strength would make it back down. It wasn't her job to kill any fae or demon that crossed her path, simply to keep them all in line and out of the human world. This elemental fae took a step towards her and made a sound like a freezer door opening. The blast of cold air hit her full in the face and she stumbled backwards.

  'Hungry,' came a whisper on the wind from the creature.

  Behind her, there was another ripple in the veil and Stalker wheeled around to see another winter fae crossing over. It froze a puddle in the middle of the street in seconds as it stomped towards her. She had a feeling this was going to end badly if she didn't act; these elementals were breaking the rules in crossing the veil in search of food. She leapt toward the new arrival and threw a punch at its head.

  The impact shattered several bones in her bestial hand, splintering pain shot all the way up her arm and she recoiled from the fae. Her other hand went for her dha on her back. She drew it and sliced neatly through the elemental in one fluid movement, causing it to split in two and shatter on impact with the ground, sending a million shards of ice scattering across the road before disappearing back across the veil. The other one stepped backwards away from her, its eyes cast down to the ground in submission, and slowly crossed the veil back into Hepethia.

  Stalker swiftly sheathed her dha and shook out her throbbing, broken hand. She looked around anxiously for any sign that humans had seen anything they shouldn't. The coast was clear, so she shifted into her human form and sprinted back to the house, where the rest of the pack were sleeping. With a heavy sigh of resignation, Stalker settled down to sleep as well.

  'The winter fae have gone crazy,' she declared to the others when everyone was awake the following morning. 'Two of them crossed the veil and attacked me while I was patrolling last night.' She clutched her broken right hand gingerly with her good one, it was mending but still painful.

  'What?' Wind Talker said, visibly confused.

  'Why would they do that?' Stalker asked.

  'Did they say anything?' Weaver asked.

  'One of them said “hungry”.'

  Wind Talker and Weaver exchanged troubled looks. Stalker looked from one to the other, waiting for a response.

  'We need to appease them, offer a sacrifice in order to keep them favourable,' Wind Talker explained.

  'A sacrifice?' Stalker asked. She was nervous about where this might be going.

  'A sacrifice,' Weaver said, looking grim. 'All the packs have to do it, we have to honour the gods and the seasons. Now that winter is here, we have to honour that.'

  'What kind of sacrifice?' Claws asked. Stalker looked at him and saw how uncomfortable he seemed.

  'A life,' Weaver replied, a grim expression on her face.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  'So we kill a stray dog or something, right?' Stalker asked, looking from one face to another. No one replied. Weaver and Wind Talker exchanged uncomfortable looks. 'Not a dog?'

  'Not a dog,' Weaver said quietly.

  'Preferably a human,' Wind Talker said. There was the slightest trace of discomfort in his face. Stalker couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She didn't want to believe it.

  'You are joking?' Claws said, his voice a little elevated.

  'People die in winter all the time,' Wind Talker said. 'They die of illness, cold, malnutrition. Winter claims them. When we don't offer a ritualistic sacrifice, winter claims more than its share. It's how we keep balance.'

  'The best thing we can do, is find someone who is at greater risk of being claimed by winter anyway,' Weaver said. She sounded concerned and uncomfortable with the idea at least, but Stalker hated hearing her make the suggestion.

  'Someone homeless?' Eyes suggested. His face was set in a grim but determined expression. He was going to sanction this. Stalker hung her head in her hands. Something unpleasant moved in her stomach.

  'Too easy,' Wind Talker replied. 'The more effort we put into it, the more acceptable a sacrifice the winter fae will consider it.'

  'An old person,' Weaver said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  'I cannot believe you three are discussing this,' Claws said. He stood and strode from the room.

  'I want no part in this,' Stalker said and followed Claws to the kitchen. 'I can't believe this.'

  'It's abhorrent. I had no idea it would be like this.' Claws made a mug of strong coffee for each of them. 'Don't you ever wish you could just go back to being normal?'

  'No,' she said. Surprising herself with the ease with which she could answer. 'We never were normal. We were always going to be this. When I changed it was like the blinkers had been taken off and I could finally see the world the way it really was. I never knew I was wearing any, but once they were gone everything made perfect sense. Isn't it like that for you?'

  'No,' he replied, not looking at her.

  'You don't like shifting form, do you?'

  'No, I don't.'

  She placed a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  'I've got an idea,' she said, suddenly inspired. 'Wait here.'

  Stalker returned to the living room. The others had been talking but fell silent and looked at her awkwardly.

  'You okay?' Eyes asked.

  'Fine. Wind Talker? Can I borrow your all-seeing-eye please?'

  'Why?' he asked.

  'Claws and I are going to The Watchtower. I'd like to be able to look across the veil before we cross over, just in case there's a welcoming party.'

  'That is a really good idea,' Eyes said with an encouraging smile.

  'Okay,' Wind Talker said, a little reluctantly. He took the necklace from around his neck and passed it to her. She was careful to only touch the lace that it was strung on and tucked it into her pocket.

  'Thank you. We'll be back soon.' She thought about asking them to delay killing anyone until their return, but bit back the words. There was no need to cause an argument. She returned to the kitchen and knocked back her coffee. 'Come on, we're going to see if there is another way.'

  She led Claws out of the house and they walked quickly to his office. He let them inside and led her up the stairs. Stalker carefully took out the necklace and placed the copper eye in her palm. It was a curious sensation, seeing both sides of the veil at the same time, especially in a location where the site in Hepethia was so different from the human world.

  In Hepethia, the Watchtower was crawling with winter fae. The fallen leaves were coated in frost, and elementals of ice and wind were climbing the walls. There was a new figure upon the throne, the one Eyes had seen. He sat upright and alert, not half asleep as the Reaper had done. A sudden flurry of movement caught her off guard and she stumbled as she tried to o
rientate herself. Several of the fae had started fighting. It was like a bar brawl, vicious and dirty with other fae cheering and taking sides. She couldn't hear anything, only see it, but she got the gist. It was chaos and disorder.

  'What do you see?' Claws asked. Stalker looked at him, suddenly remembering that he was there. She let the pendant fall from her hand, keeping hold of the lace so that her vision returned to normal.

  'We don't want to cross over here.'

  'They're going to do it, aren't they? No matter what we found here.'

  'Yes,' she replied. The truth of it settled like a heavy shroud across her shoulders. She got her phone out and typed a message to Eyes.

  Winter fae in disarray, turning on each other. Looks nasty. Do what has to be done but me and Claws are staying out of it.

  'Let's get drunk,' Claws suggested.

  'Yes, let's.' Stalker had never felt the divide in the pack so strongly, but she was extremely glad to have Claws on her side. She couldn't see how they could possibly reconcile after this and the first shot of whiskey was filled with sorrow. Claws poured out a second and slid the glass along his desk to her. She scooped it up and knocked it back. It burned her throat; whiskey wasn't her favourite drink and she shuddered as it went down. The third went down more easily but with it came a tear that she couldn't prevent. Claws stared at his fingers splayed on his desk and let out a long, unsteady breath.

  'How do you stand it?' he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  'Stand what?'

  'All of it. The violence, the utter insanity of the world. Sometimes I look at you and it's like you're turned on by it all.'

  Stalker looked at him, puzzled. He was glaring at her.

  'I'm here with you tonight, aren't I?' she snapped back. 'You were getting your thrills shooting up the rats, so I think that's a bit rich.'

  Claws raised his glass to her and gave her a half-hearted smile.

  'Fair play,' he said, then slowly downed his drink. 'So you haven't let go of morality, but there are things you enjoy about this life.'

  'Yeah,' she smiled. 'I love shifting, I love what my body can do and I do like a good fight but that's nothing new. I wasn't just drawn to martial arts for the exercise.' She poured another drink but just stared at it as her mind slipped back to her life before her first change. 'But it's really hard. I had a nice, simple life that I had to leave behind, or should leave behind. I can't though, I can't turn my back on my humanity and I don't want to.'

  She leaned back in her chair and let her slightly intoxicated eyes drift around the room.

  'Yeah I know what you mean,' Claws said, taking another drink. 'You're getting behind, keep up.' He tapped her glass.

  'Let's play a game,' she said with a grin.

  'A drinking game?' he replied, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. 'Okay.'

  'Do you know I Have Never?'

  Claws snorted with laughter and nodded. 'Okay,' Stalker went on. 'So, I have never hacked into a confidential computer system.' Claws took a drink, keeping his eyes focused on her. Stalker grinned.

  'I have never,' Claws said, pausing to think of something, 'fought another shifter.'

  Stalker looked at him for a long moment, trying to decide why he would bring that up. Slowly, she picked up her glass and drank. She had fought more than her share of shifters already, and even killed one. The guilt over that incident still gnawed at her. She looked around the room and her eyes settled on a framed picture on his desk, a young boy grinned out at her, he had the same thick, dark hair as Claws and the same bright eyes.

  'I have never had a child,' she said quietly, watching him carefully. Claws slowly refilled his glass and drank. 'Sorry,' she whispered.

  'It's okay.'

  'Why haven't you mentioned him?'

  'When has there been a chance?' Claws said with a sad sort of smirk. 'I don't see him, haven't seen him in years. His mum and I didn't work out. I'd like to see him, of course, but she made it really difficult for me. They moved away and she messed me about, mixing up dates when I was meant to visit, and poisoned him against me. Now he doesn't want to see me anymore.'

  'I'm really sorry,' Stalker said, a lump in her throat.

  'Turns out it was for the best, though, eh?' He shrugged and leaned back in his seat.

  'Yeah, maybe,' Stalker replied, thinking of Eyes. 'The best way to protect the people we love is to keep them away from all of this.' She wasn't thinking of Eyes any more. Her thoughts drifted to Rhys.

  'I have never had a secret boyfriend,' Claws said, a small smile playing on his lips.

  Stalker's eyes snapped back to him and she felt her cheeks burn up. Reluctantly, she took a drink.

  'I bet you have, I bet there's a whole alternative side to you buried under your layers,' she said, with a huff of indignation and playfulness in her voice. Claws laughed. 'I have never got so drunk that I urinated in public.' Stalker waited, watching as his face twitched. Claws lifted his glass to his lips and Stalker burst out laughing, she pushed away from the desk and her chair toppled over backwards, spilling her onto the floor. She automatically went into a backward roll and sprang to her feet, wobbled and fell sideways into the wall. Claws was chuckling and put down his drink.

  'I've never done that either, I was teasing you,' he said with a wink. Stalker laughed and stumbled back towards the desk. Claws passed her a drink and she tipped it down her throat. The bottle was almost empty and they both looked at it with a mixture of regret and relief.

  Suddenly, Stalker's phone broke the silence with an incoming message.

  It is done. Come on home x

  Stalker shook her head.

  'No, I'm not going back to the house. I can't even look at them.' She passed her phone to Claws so he could read the message.

  'I'm going back,' he said, his speech only slightly slurred. 'I don't want to sleep in my office.'

  'You could shift and perch on the back of your chair,' she said with a wicked grin.

  'I don't think so,' he replied, wrinkling his nose. He knocked back the last of his drink and slammed the glass down on the desk. 'Where will you go?'

  'I need to clear my head,' she said, giving it a shake. 'I'll go for a run.'

  'Alright, look after yourself and I'll see you in the morning. Okay?'

  She nodded and gave him a hug. He patted her on the back and they went their separate ways. Stalker walked for a bit, letting the freezing cold night air fill her lungs and clear her head of the drunken fog. It stung her lungs to breathe, but it worked. She was half way through China Town before she even realised where she was, having walked aimlessly through the deserted, midnight streets.

  As the alcohol finished burning its way through her system, clearing far quicker than it would in a human, she realised where she needed to be. She picked up her pace and broke into a jog, leaping over a fence that blocked her way and landing with a crunch on the gravel track below the overpass. She glanced up and saw how far she had jumped, and felt a tingle of excitement. She set off again, taking a more direct route rather than sticking to the main streets. She ran through a car park and easily clambered over the high wall on the far side, dropping into a scrap yard and resuming her run without breaking stride. The wooden gates back onto the road were no problem for her, she climbed them and swung over the top smoothly.

  Stalker skidded to a halt outside Rhys's front door just a few minutes later. She rang the bell and stepped back onto the pavement to wait for him to answer. She paced anxiously. It was late, about 1am, but she had to see him. She needed him more than ever.

  After more than a minute she sensed him on the other side of the door, and stood still on the step. Slowly the door opened a crack and his tired face appeared in the shadows.

  'Ariana?' he said, sounding confused. He opened the door wider. 'What are you doing here? What's wrong?'

  He was wearing loose pyjama trousers and no top, obviously not bothered by the cold night air. 'You're crying,' he said and ushered her inside. St
alker touched her cheek and felt hot tears fresh on her skin. She wiped them away and went inside. She didn't know what to say; she couldn't tell him the truth. He grabbed her and pulled her into a warm embrace.

  'I'm sorry, thank you for letting me in.' She broke into renewed sobs as she thought about everything that had happened with the pack. Rhys held her tightly as she shook and cried, her face pressed against his chest. Her sadness switched to anger and she pulled away from him, fury boiling up inside her. She was angry with everyone, the others who had come up with this plan to sacrifice someone, and with herself and Claws for not putting up more of a fight.

  She shrugged off her jacket and threw it across the back of the sofa. There was a small clunk and she looked down to see Wind Talker's talisman on the wooden floor. She stooped to pick it up and held it by the lace for a moment, looking at it carefully. She glanced around the room, feeling that same discomfort that she had felt here before, and carefully she gathered up the lace and took the copper pendant in her hand. Her vision shifted and she looked around the darkened room. There were no lights on, just the orange glow from the street lamp outside the window and a little light spilling down the stairs in the short corridor between the front room and the kitchen at the back of the house.

  On the other side of the veil it was just as dark, and the same eerie, orange light seeped in through the window. She saw markings all over the walls and on the inside of the front door. Runes of her kind, carved right into the walls in deep gouges. They were the runes for secret, hide, protect and then over and over again, a million times in varying sizes, human, human, human, human, human. She tried not to react, though a hard lump had risen in her throat. Rhys was watching her carefully, a deep frown on his brow. She looked at him in disbelief. His tattoos were not solid, black, tribal swirls, they were an intricate string of the same runes, but more disturbing than this was the demon. Draped over his shoulders like a black cloak with a hood that covered his head and most of his face, was a demon of secrecy. It had red eyes that looked right at her, and as she stared, it raised a silky finger to Rhys's lips to silence her.