by Jayne Hawke
“It wasn’t alchemical. I have people looking into it. There’s something familiar about it, I just can’t think where,” he said.
I had the exact same feeling. I should have searched for it on the internet the night before, but I’d wanted some quality time with Matt. He was my baby brother, and I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything come between us.
“Anything I should know about this Sean guy?” I asked.
“He’s rough around the edges, a rejected male witch. He has some magic, enough to add some pain to his punches. Rumour has it that his coven felt he was too weak and had nothing to offer them politically, so he was dumped by the side of the road,” Ethan said.
I knew witches could be cold, and some of them were very attached to their strong bloodlines, but that seemed really extreme. He was someone’s son, after all.
Ethan pulled to a stop in front of a modern-looking shop with a large window set into pale cream stone. The area was distinctly middle class. Nothing about it stood out. There was no name for the shop, but the wares inside looked like a standard magic shop. We got out and walked into the shop together.
I glanced around at the white acrylic shelves and tables displaying vials, potion bottles, pendants, and other magical paraphernalia. There was nothing there that I couldn’t find in other shops around the city. The pendants were quite standard, small disks of silver or rose gold with simple symbols etched into them. When I got a little closer, I could feel a touch of magic, so they at least had that.
Ethan strode up to the front desk, where the more expensive jewellery was. The case was surrounded by the same white acrylic used throughout the store, but it displayed jewelled necklaces, extravagant pearl earrings, and intricate bangles. Small labels said that each piece was packed full of some form of magic, from luck to beauty and charm. The price tags were in the low four figures, and I very much doubted they’d do all that much for the buyer.
“We’d like to speak to Sean,” Ethan said to the human behind the counter.
He looked to be around my age in his mid-twenties. He glanced back at the silver door that led through to the back and back to Ethan.
Ethan bared his teeth in some semblance of a smile, and the guy stepped back.
“I’ll go get him.”
“You do that,” Ethan growled.
“You seem really determined to get this witch back. I didn’t think that was your usual line of work,” I said.
“She’s connected to something else, I can feel it,” he said.
Sean was a guy of average height with short dark hair which had been buzzed on the sides. His hard brown eyes looked between us, and his lips pressed into a white line.
“Ethan Hale,” he spat.
Ethan grinned at him, the expression more a threat than anything resembling happiness.
“Where’s the torch?” Ethan demanded.
Sean put his hands in the pockets of his dark pants.
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
Ethan vaulted over the counter and pinned Sean to the back wall with a hand on his collarbone.
“Where is the torch, Sean?” Ethan growled.
“No clue,” Sean ground out.
Ethan tilted his head slightly to one side.
“You know I hate liars.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not lying, then, isn’t it?” Sean said.
Ethan squeezed Sean tighter against the wall, causing Sean to gasp as he tried to get air into his lungs.
“I’ll ask you one last time. Where is the torch?”
“I don’t know,” Sean hissed.
Ethan let the guy drop to the floor, where he wheezed.
“You’re an asshole, mutt,” Sean spat.
Ethan pushed Sean down to the ground with his foot before he planted that foot on Sean’s chest.
“Maybe I should go and check the merchandise for myself,” Ethan said.
“I have a license, and you have no right,” Sean said.
“If you have a license, then you have nothing to hide,” Ethan said.
“Get out, mutt,” Sean spat.
Ethan stepped back.
“If it turns out you lied to me, you’ll regret it for the rest of your short life,” Ethan said coldly.
He vaulted back over the counter, and we left the shop.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
Ethan growled.
“He’s a snake and a thief. He tried very hard to take something from me five years ago.”
“Something?” I pushed.
Ethan paused by his car.
“My mother’s pendant. It’s all I have left of her.”
Ah, well, that explained a lot.
“Now what?”
“Now we go and have breakfast,” he said.
“I already had breakfast,” I said as I got into the car.
“Then you can have second breakfast with the pack,” Ethan said with a grin.
I was going to have to get some quality gym time if I was going to survive the pack and their eating habits.
THIRTY-SEVEN
“Get anything out of Cavanagh?” Kerry asked as we walked in.
“Nothing. He had no idea,” Ethan said gruffly.
“Any word on the alchemical symbol?” I asked.
“Not yet. They got pulled into some politics with the witch bodies,” Dean said.
I sat down at the table and watched in a mix of fascination and horror as they began devouring plates of pastries. I drank my coffee and politely declined when they tried to get me try at least a few of them.
“Don’t worry, there will be pastries waiting for you when you get home,” Cade said with a grin.
“I’m going to need a potion to keep me fit and trim,” I said with a laugh.
“Any more news on the torches? They can’t be that easy to hide,” Dean asked.
Ethan curled his lip.
“None that I’ve heard. You know god artifacts are a nightmare to deal with. Once they disappear into the underground, we’re screwed,” Ethan said.
“Surely they have really obvious magic signatures?” I said.
“You’d have thought so,” Kerry said around a bite of pain au choc.
“No, they’re complicated and difficult. A lot of it depends on the god they’re tied into and their intent. If the god wanted the artifact to go walkabout, then they’re very well hidden,” Dean said.
I wrinkled my nose. The gods were a pain in my ass. They played so many games, seemingly for shits and giggles.
“How common are god artifacts?” I asked.
“Far more than you’d think,” Kerry said.
“Each artifact is unique and different. Some gods like to have a number of artifacts in play, as it adds strength to their followers and thus them. Hades has quite a few, but they’re very well protected. Then you have the artifacts from the fallen gods. Their artifacts fell when they did. Those tend to be protected by the jaguar guardians, though, although they do protect some things from the currently sitting gods, too,” Cade said.
“So, what do these torches do, exactly?” I asked.
“We’re not entirely sure. We suspect that when brought together they can form a doorway to any plane bar the god plane,” Cade said.
I paused and thought about that for a moment. That would allow someone to walk onto the fae plane, which would likely get them killed within a few minutes. But what if it didn’t? And what of the rumours about other planes besides the earth, god, and fae planes?
“Which opens us up to a lot of trouble,” Ethan said gravely.
“Some people believe that there’s a shadow plane and there are very dangerous beings there. If someone were to cut a deal with them and bring them through...” Dean said.
“Don’t forget all of the various hells and underworlds. Then there are all the Norse planes of existence - imagine bring the ice giants through. Or worse, bringing the Formorians back,” Kerry said with an exaggerated shudder.
> “Wait, Formorians?” I asked.
“They are a very old savage race that existed before man really civilised, back when the fae roamed freely. We drove them to another underground realm. They are incredibly powerful giants. They cannot be controlled or bargained with. They will rampage throughout the world flattening it until they tire and claim rulership over the lands,” Ethan said gravely.
“Why the hell would someone want to bring one of those back?” I asked.
It sounded like a really stupid idea. Ethan just said they couldn’t be bargained with or controlled; it was like setting a few thousand rapid red caps loose in the countryside and telling them to go have fun.
“There are those dumb enough to worship them,” Dean said.
“Again I ask, why!?” I said.
“Because they are desperate, and they believe that the Formorians were portrayed poorly in the history books. They believe that they are their saviours and they will return the world to its rightful state, where the fae rule over all the lands with an iron fist,” Dean said with a sigh.
I could understand desperation. My life was far from apple pie and ice cream, but to bring back a force of absolute destruction and death was something I couldn’t imagine.
“There are lots of really... interesting cults out there. Don’t forget about the ones who want to kill everyone and use that magic to make themselves more powerful. I don’t know why you’d want to rule over a barren plane myself, but I guess everyone has dreams,” Kerry said.
“Oh, oh, don’t forget those that want to make new supernaturals, because why not? I think they’re really interested in making vampires, but they’re also pretty interested in weird new hybrids that would make them awesome with none of the downsides,” Cade said.
“They’re not cults, though, they’re human military labs,” Ethan said.
Humans didn’t have much in the way of military - that was handled by the fae lords and god touched - but they were allowed small pockets. It was thought that the lords and god touched felt it would make the humans feel a bit better to know they had their own army. The fae considered it quaint and ensured that they were contracted to work for the fae should they ever need them.
Dean curled his lip.
“They’re funded by the god touched and fae though. They’re not-so-secret projects to make sure their own fighters are stronger when the wars inevitably break out,” Dean said.
“I’m amazed they haven’t thus far. The Ares god touched have been doing their damndest to start something down in South America for years,” Ethan said.
“Only because they were kicked out of Greece,” Cade said with a laugh.
“The last I heard, they were doing small skirmishes with the Mars and Belus god touched,” Dean said.
“That won’t keep them happy for that long,” Ethan said.
“There are plenty of other gods to keep them in line, and never underestimate our own kind,” Ethan said.
I made a mental note to knock South America off my travel plans when I finally got some freedom.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“So, we have one missing Hecate witch, and someone who’s stealing and selling on god magic. And we don’t have any leads on either,” Ethan said drily.
“The god magic has quietened down a little bit. I haven’t had any reports of any more death,” Dean said.
“And our people are working on the witches we killed,” Kerry said.
Ethan paced around the kitchen.
“We’re missing something,” he said with a growl.
“Maybe we should shake down some more dealers in the area,” I said.
“Kerry, chase our people with the witch business. Cut through the political bullshit and get the information we need,” Ethan said.
“I’ll return to Axel’s and see what I can get out of him,” Dean said.
“I’ll do some digging into witches see if I can figure out what we’re missing,” Cade said.
“It looks like I’m looking into the god artifact angle, then,” I said.
“I’ll loan you one of my spare laptops,” Kerry said with a smile.
Ethan’s phone rang. He strode out of the room. I heard him speaking in a sharp tone before he returned with a stormy expression.
“I have some business I need to attend to. Kit, you’re welcome to stay here while you work, or I can take you home.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. Matt was better at the research thing than me.
“I’ll head home, thanks,” I said.
Ethan nodded, and I followed him out to his car.
“Everything ok?” I asked.
He sighed.
“Just business politics. A rival alchemy company is trying to do some illegal digging into my operation,” he growled.
I didn’t envy him. That paperwork and politics life sounded exhausting.
“Why did you start an alchemy business? Why not an assassin company or something?” I asked.
He grinned at me. His eyes sparked with predatory intent.
“What makes you think I don’t have an assassin company, too?”
Well, that was a little terrifying.
“Hey, Matt, are you busy?” I asked as I placed Kerry’s very nice laptop down on the table.
Her spare laptop was barely three months old and top end. It had more hard drive space than I thought laptops were capable of.
“Not really, ‘sup?” he asked as he came into the living room.
He was still bleary eyed and wore an old t-shirt with a torn neckline and a pair of ancient sweatpants.
“Help me do some research?” I asked with my best puppy eyes.
“For Ethan?”
“And for me.”
He flopped down next to me and gestured for me to hand him the laptop.
“What do you need to know?”
I showed him a picture of the swirly symbol the witches had had.
“I need to know what that’s tied into, and everything you have about god artifacts. Especially a way to track Hecate’s torches,” I said.
“Alright, I can do that. Why don’t you go work out or something for a while, having you hover will only slow me down.”
“I don’t hover!”
He gave me a flat look.
“You practically vibrate. I’ll have some leads for you to chase down when you get back.”
“Thanks, I love you!”
He made a noncommittal noise, and I took the cue to leave and get some exercise before the cu sith eating habits had me going for a morning roll.
As luck would have it, I was going to have some assistance in my constitutional. Within a couple blocks, I heard the rhythmic clanking of armour behind me, and turned to find a cluster of statuesque, haughty women closing the distance in rapid, flowing strides. I counted eight, all in flawless white armour distinguished by diverse gold-leaf inlays ranging from Greek lettering to thorny flowers.
All wore identical masks of white porcelain covering the right half of their faces, the image of a classically beautiful female face that several of them closely matched in flesh. Their hair was in complex up-dos like they were going to a fancy party, their makeup overstated and pristine as if they’d applied it moments before. Only Aphrodite witches could be both that militant and that vain. I was going to have to make a mess of it before this was over – my weapons simply weren’t made to pierce armour, at least not without my magic, and that meant my only advantage lay in that very vanity.
I drew my daggers and made sure my magic was in check. I fell into an aggressive stance. I didn’t know what they were capable of, but I wasn’t going to give them the chance to take control of the fight if I didn’t have to. They all raised their snowy-white gauntleted hands in front of them in a loose-fisted stance that carried a certain whiff of disinterest at odds with the extreme preparation the ensembles must have required.
Before I lost the initiative, I threw myself forward.
It became clear immediately that they’d
been expecting a very different sort of fight. I met the eye of the presumptive leader in the centre as I rushed them, and I saw fear grow in her with every step I took. On either side of her, her warriors were bracing for my impact, not so much ready to defend themselves as to block a tackle. When I got close, I threw myself into a spinning back kick that landed on the bridge of the leader’s nose. She fell backwards with the impact, mask shattering along with her nose and cheekbone, and I balanced on her falling form to make twin thrusts at the sisters to the left and right.
Both strikes landed, each a simple straight-arm thrust into the exposed face of their target. Both witches screamed and threw themselves backwards, barely keeping their balance in the cumbersome armour. As I landed, I stomped the leader’s face a second time, ensuring she wouldn’t be a further problem, and took the measure of her forces. Two pretty girls who would never be pretty again were glaring at me over the top of matching wounds just below their left eyes, streams of beautiful shining crimson running down over their perfect white faces to stain their perfect white armour. I’d never felt so artistic.
Neither had made a move to staunch the bleeding, and I quickly realized why. All of their gauntlets had blades built in like claws. That explained their strange fighting stance and their lack of more traditional weapons, and it meant that pressing their hand to their face would do more harm than good. I restrained my urge to make a cat fight pun and spun to my right, where three unwounded but quite shaken witches were hesitating on the verge of a full rout. I feinted with my right dagger towards the rightmost witch, giving the impression of an attack identical to the one I’d just used. She flinched back, and her sister on the left tried to make use of the opportunity to attack. I spun through the thrust and, ducking under the cartoonish two-handed cat swipe she made at my throat, drove the other blade into the attacker’s right ear, passing behind the mask and into her brain, killing her without so much as smudging her makeup.
No one can say I’m not thoughtful.
The two next to her watched in horror as she collapsed, then put their hands up like they were surrendering to the police and backed away as fast as they could before turning to run. That left me with the two injured girls and their two soon-to-be-injured friends. I found them looking determined, even confident, and it took me a moment to process the shift. I’d expected nothing more dangerous than anger, more likely fear and helplessness. Determined to regain the psychological advantage, I quickly crossed the distance and made an upward swipe towards the uninjured one’s chin.