by E. A. Copen
I held up a hand. By one of mine, what Tindall really meant was one of Sal’s, but there wasn’t time to split hairs. Whoever the swordsman was, he knew his way around the single-handed blade well enough that the only thing keeping him from cleaving the werewolf in two was the werewolf’s superior speed. Not that the sword would have done much damage to a werewolf unless it was made of silver. Short of cutting off his head, the swordsman didn’t have much of a chance with that blade.
I stood clear of the cruiser door. “It’s Ed,” I said and then shook my head. Impossible. Of all the werewolves in Sal’s pack, Ed was the last one I would have expected to take on such a capable enemy.
“Petersen?” Tindall questioned and stole another glance out at the fight.
Ed crouched and lunged at the swordsman again but, this time, the swordsman flung his free hand forward. Magick buzzed through the air, strong enough that it threatened to suck the air from my lungs. Liquid fire erupted from the swordsman’s fingers against a battle cry in Latin. That was all I needed to be sure of who it was Ed was fighting and to know that he was in way over his head.
I pushed around the cruiser door and rushed from safety and into the fray just as Ed barely avoided getting singed by rolling to the side. Tindall called after me, but his voice was muted and quickly forgotten as I closed the distance. I called to Ed and slid to a stop that would have made my middle school softball coach proud. My hand slid into a patch of fur just behind Ed’s ears and squeezed in a reassuring gesture. He lifted his head, pink tongue panting and whined. A large section of the fur on his nose had burned away, replaced by red, raw skin and blisters. I couldn’t focus on how badly he was hurt. There was still an enemy on the field.
I turned my attention forward, clenching my jaw and staring down the swordsman. “Father Reed, what the hell is going on?”
The priest lowered his head, his eyes reflecting the raging fire beside him. For a minute, I thought maybe he’d put his sword down and talk to me, but I had misunderstood the look of intent.
“Succendo!” He flicked his wrist and sent a wall of flame five feet high straight at me.
Chapter Two
I put up one of my shields, this one even stronger than the last. Stronger meant smaller, though, and I was only able to protect an area three feet high and two feet wide. Instead of the normal five-foot concave area that covered my entire body, this shield would only cover me if I stayed low to the ground, and it would only save Ed from the blast if I pressed in tight against him. I only barely had enough time to get into position to ensure that neither of us got burned.
Reed’s fire spell hit with enough force to push me back. I ground a knee into the earth, trying to slow my backward slide and leaving overturned ground behind. Ed crawled back with me to stay behind the shield. The wall of fire broke over top of us, scorching the air so that it hurt to breathe. Grass on either side of us turned to ash. The shield flickered and, as soon as the blast of flame subsided, dissipated into nothingness. I was tapped already, but Reed was far from it.
Fire was the priest’s element. I’d seen him stand in an incinerator while it was on and redirect the flame to escape untouched. Back then, he’d been on my side. Until the moment he threw his latest ball of fire at me, I’d assumed the two of us were still at least on speaking terms. The enraged look on his face made it clear now that he didn’t want to talk.
Magick no longer being an option, at least so far as I was concerned, I needed to come up with a back-up plan, preferably one that didn’t end up with anyone dead. I hadn’t come with my gun, and Reed was an expert swordsman, so getting close and tackling wasn’t an option, not unless I could somehow do it before he cut off my head. The only way that would happen was if I had help. I glanced down at Ed and hoped he understood what I had. “Don’t kill him,” I whispered, knowing his werewolf ears would pick it up.
Reed raised his sword and moved to close the distance, his eyes still distant and angry. Ed staggered to stand on all fours and growled, showing sharp, white teeth.
But it wasn’t Ed that sprang out of the darkness aimed at Reed’s throat. A big, gray werewolf with chevrons of black fur on his neck and chest leapt away from the line of police cars, snarling. Sal. Reed spun just in time and swung his sword. It struck Sal just behind the shoulder and slid away red. The momentum of the strike sent Sal sideways, but he landed on his feet. Blood dripped from where the sword had caught him. Sal bared his teeth, crouched low for another go, and snarled again.
Ed zipped away from my side to snap at Reed’s ankle on the other side. Reed swung his sword, but Ed scampered out of reach. His left and right exits blocked, and his back to the burning barn, Reed considered the line of police cars in front of him. If he charged them, the officers would fire. The only reason they hadn’t yet was because they still thought we had it handled.
I glanced over at the police and saw that one of them had made his way atop the squad car in the center, a sniper rifle perched on the flashing lights. He peered through the sight, finger on the trigger. With a word, he’d fire and put a well-placed bullet in the center of Reed’s head. Rampaging madman or not, I didn’t want this to end in any more blood.
My feet pounded across the scorched ground and I did my best to place myself between Reed and the police sniper. “There’s nowhere to go, Reed.” I spread my arms wide to block their aim better. “Why don’t you put the sword down and talk to us? There’s no need for this.”
Reed ground his teeth. “I…can’t. He won’t let me!”
Sal and Ed prowled closer, moving into attack position to take him down if he didn’t comply. I stayed where I was. If the sniper hadn’t fired yet, it was only because he didn’t have a clear shot. Moving an inch either way might change that. “At least tell me what happened here.”
Something changed in Reed’s face. The rage died away a moment and he blinked. His eyes wobbled back and forth and he scanned the area as if he were seeing it for the first time. Surprise rolled over his expression, and then fear. It lasted just a moment before it was gone and the anger was back in control.
I risked a half step forward. “Tell me what I can do to help you, Reed.”
“Stay away from me, Judah. I don’t want to have to kill you.”
I flinched when Reed raised a hand and flicked a spell off to his side. It wasn’t fire he sent out, however. It was a swirling vortex of white flame that split open the night with a steaming hiss. He sprinted the short distance to where he’d placed his Way, stopped to give me one last, serious look, and then stepped into the ring of fire. Sal leapt after him, but the Way closed before he could follow Reed through.
Sal landed, swayed and then stumbled slightly before Ed leapt forward to support him. I approached with caution. Werewolves could be funny about humans when they were hurt but, apparently, Sal didn’t mind me coming close enough to check it out. I knelt in the grass and ran my hand over some of the blood-matted fur. He flinched away and growled. I couldn’t tell how deep the cut was, but he wasn’t putting any weight on that leg and it wasn’t closed yet, which meant it had gone deep. “You stupid idiot,” I muttered, pressing my face into Sal’s side. “He could’ve killed you.”
Behind us, Tindall ordered the fire trucks forward and they roared to life, charging through the field around us. The firefighters hustled to pull down their hoses and douse the fire while Tindall and a few other officers closed on our position. Sal gave another growl, this one a low, warning tone. He’d tolerate the firemen being so close, mostly because they weren’t paying him any attention, but Tindall and the other officers were armed. That made them potential threats, and Sal did not want anything threatening to see him injured and bleeding.
I stood and gestured for them to stop before jogging to meet them a good five yards back. “What the hell was all that?” Tindall put his hands on his hips.
I stopped in front of them so that if any of the other officers decided to move forward, I could stop them. “I’m not sure yet.
Was Reed like this when you got here? What happened?”
One of the officers, a heavy-set guy, shifted forward, straining his neck to get a better look at the pair of werewolves behind me. I cleared my throat and drew his gaze before shaking my head. He dropped his eyes to the ground.
Tindall shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine at this point. Wait a second. Did you say Reed? As in the priest, Gideon Reed?”
I nodded slowly. “That was definitely him, but he really wasn’t himself.” I turned to look at the place where he’d stepped through the Way. “Something was wrong with him. If I could have gotten a look at his aura, I would have a better idea of what we’re dealing with. The way he acted, it didn’t seem like he was in control of what was happening.”
“Like maybe he was possessed?” the heavy-set cop suggested.
It was possible, I supposed, but Reed would be the last person I would suspect of possession. The guy had Faith with a capital F and practically lived in his church. If there was a holy warrior anywhere in Concho County, it was him.
“Maybe,” I said, “but there’s no way I could know without getting a better look at him from a non-threatening angle. You said Ed was here when you got here?”
Tindall gestured behind me. “Yeah, the werewolf and the priest were going at it when we arrived. A passerby saw the flames from the highway and called it in. No idea what happened before we got here, though.”
“Who set fire to the barn?”
“Burning when we got here,” Tindall answered with a grunt. He tugged his cigarettes from his shirt pocket and smacked the pack against the meat of his palm a few times. “I’m going to assume that was Reed, too. Information is scarce right now unless you can get the werewolf to talk. How bad is the other one hurt?”
“The other one is Sal.” Sal would have been irritated that Tindall, who had lived in Paint Rock for going on nine years, couldn’t tell him apart from the lowest-ranking member of the pack. “And he’s a werewolf so he’ll heal, but he’ll be grumpy until he does so it’s best if your men keep their distance. Werewolves don’t like guns.”
Tindall stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, blowing the smoke away from me. “Do you think you could get Ed to shift back so we can talk to him?”
“Depends. It’s not really up to me. He might be of a mind to stay in wolf form to protect his alpha at this stage, but I can try.”
“Well, at the very least, you’ll want to get them out of the way while these guys fight the fire.”
“That I can probably do.” I nodded and uncrossed my arms. “You boys stay back and don’t approach until I’ve given the all clear.”
I walked back to where Sal and Ed waited. Sal sat very still, but upright and sure to keep his head above Ed’s. He looked stiff, and favored the injured side, but someone who didn’t know him very well wouldn’t have noticed anything at all was wrong. Sal would keep it that way as long as he could and project the image of power and control over the situation. The look he wore on his wolfish face straddled the line between alert and irritated.
Meanwhile, Ed paced in a wide circle that stretched between where his alpha sat and where Reed had disappeared, his nose to the ground and tail low, but not tucked. When I came close, Ed casually picked up his pace as he circled, making sure that he crossed in front of me before I reached Sal. He stopped an arm’s length away, stretched, yawned and sat between Sal and I. Protective mode it was, then.
I scratched Ed behind the ears and squatted to get a better look at the burn on his nose. It was red and raw, but healing. There were other patches of singed fur all the way down his back, but he looked unharmed. “Ed, I’m going to need you to shift back if you can. The police want a statement and it seems you know more about what happened here than the rest of us.”
Ed’s tongue, which had been hanging out, rolled back into his mouth. He perked his ears, glanced back at Sal and let out a slight whine.
“Sal is going to heal. He’ll heal better if we can get him out of here and away from all these people where he can focus on that instead of trying to be stoic and badass.” My comment drew a huff from Sal and the werewolf straightened his back, bristling. I ignored him. “Besides, the two of you are sitting right where the officers need to be to begin their investigation. You’re in the way of progress here, boys.”
At that news, Sal stood. Ed trotted back to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, gently supporting him from the injured side. Sal’s limp was barely noticeable as the two of them walked back toward the line of police cars. Tindall and the officers waiting with him stepped aside to allow the pair to pass. The werewolves didn’t stop walking until they were far removed from the crime scene and safely hidden beside the second ambulance.
I put a reassuring hand on Tindall’s shoulder as I passed, following the wolves. “Leave your men and come help me get this statement, will you?” I didn’t need his help, but I did want a witness. Given my unusual relationship with the werewolf pack and my involvement with the incident, I wanted to head off any potential conflicts of interest before they ever got started.
When we made it to the squad, Ed had already begun his change. The soft, pained whines and cracking of bone coming from beside the squad gave him away. Sal growled at our approach and Tindall froze, his hand straying toward his gun.
“Easy,” I said and grabbed Tindall’s wrist. “That wasn’t an aggressive growl. Just one to let you know how grumpy and alert he is.”
Tindall relaxed, but frowned. “I don’t know how you can tell the difference, Black. I’ve been working with supernaturals for years. To me, a growl is a growl.”
“Comes from spending so much time with them. You pick up a little body language here and there.”
“He’s not going to change back, too?” Tindall cast Sal another wary glance as the werewolf shifted his weight away from the injured side. Either he was in too much pain to continue hiding it, or he didn’t consider Tindall a threat.
“Sal will heal faster this way.” I turned to Sal and tried to ignore the loud, wet ripping sounds of Ed’s change. “Sal, where’s Mia?”
Sal jerked his head to the side. I followed the motion and leaned to get a better look. His truck was parked a short distance away, right next to a motorcycle I recognized. It was Bran’s Harley and Bran leaned against it with Mia in his arms. When I thought of what a mean, outlaw biker might look like before I’d met the Tomahawk Kings, Bran is the image I would have called up. Bran was a huge, hairy guy of Japanese and Russian heritage. He had a green Mohawk, wore plenty of studded leather and never went anywhere unarmed. He was also the most pleasant member of the Kings, despite being their sergeant at arms. As odd as it might have looked to everyone else to see a big, katana carrying biker cuddling a sleeping toddler, to me it looked natural now.
I gave Bran a wave that he returned, and then turned my attention back to Sal. “Will you let me see?”
Sal huffed as if to say, “It’s not that bad.” Translation? It hurts like hell but I don’t want to seem like a wimp in front of another man. Typical.
I came closer and knelt, looking at the cut on his shoulder. Now that I had enough light to see, the cut looked worse. It wasn’t just a simple slice. The blade must have been hot when it sliced into Sal, because the edges of the wound were dark. Black fur surrounded the wound and blood still oozed from the hole. He flinched slightly when I touched it, and I could see the white of bone. “It should have healed more than this,” I said and looked Sal in the eyes. “Silver?”
He snorted and shook his head.
“If not silver, then maybe it’s spelled.”
“It smells fae to me.”
I looked beyond Sal to Ed who lay curled up on the ground with his back to me. Tindall pulled open the squad doors, dug around until he found a blanket and handed it to me. I stepped around Sal and placed it on the ground within Ed’s reach. Most werewolves didn’t much care about being naked in front of people but, given the crowd and the news vans th
at had started pulling in, I figured Ed would want to cover up. He sat up stiffly and grabbed the blanket, pulling it over him without unfolding it.
“Fae?” I tried to call up a mental image of Reed’s sword. The one he had tonight looked just like his normal weapon of choice. Ed had been in that incinerator with me when Reed deflected all that fire and he’d seen Reed use that sword several other times as well. “Has it always smelled fae to you?”
Ed shook his head, his shaggy, brown hair bouncing back and forth. “I don’t get to smell his sword that often, to tell the truth. Usually, when that thing comes out, my ass is in the fire already and he’s saving my bacon, not burning to a crisp.” He rubbed the healing sore on his nose and winced.
I waved a hand over the wound again, this time concentrating on the flow of energy around it. There was magick there, alright, but it felt residual. That meant it was on the blade itself and not on Sal. That was good. With a little healing magick, Sal could pull simple spellwork like that apart. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do much while he was still a wolf and shifting might make the wound worse.
“Will he heal?” Tindall pointed at Sal.
Ed closed his eyes and leaned back against the squad’s wheel. “You said you had questions.”
“Yeah. What the hell happened, Ed? Why were you even out here?”
“Mara.” Ed’s voice was a strained whisper.
I looked up at the barn fire. Even with all that water pouring down on it, the fire was still raging. It dawned on me why Ed might be out this far, alone, so late at night, without telling anyone where he was going. A terrible, sick and sinking feeling settled over me. “Oh my God,” I said, fighting panic in my voice. “Was Mara in there?”