Vesik 04 - This Broken World (2 page)

“Get. Out.” Frank’s voice was eerily calm. I could see Bubbles and Peanut beneath the door, sitting at his feet.

“Those dogs are huge,” she said, and I knew she was staring at the cu siths. The reporter had no idea she was one bad move away from being lunch. She turned her attention back to Frank. “You can’t just—” the reporter began.

I slammed the saloon-style doors open and glared at the woman. She was short, maybe five foot two, and her dark eyes met my gaze without flinching.

“You!” she said, her mouth twisting into a wild grin. “You were in the video!” She ran at me, holding her phone out with what I guessed was a microphone sticking out of one of the ports.

“I’m with Channel Six. Can we get a quote? Tell us what you saw. What do you think really happened? Do you think people are right when they say magic is real? Wizards have been among us since the beginning? Hiding in plain sight?”

I was somewhat surprised at how much she had right. I guess video evidence is enough to persuade some folks.

Then she started with the craziness.

“How do you feel about the government task force that’s rumored to be investigating the incident?”

“A government what?” I said as the sheer horror of that possibility dawned on me.

“Or the suspicion that we witnessed a failed terrorist strike? Right here in Saint Charles? Did you know the terrorists? Are you involved? Are you a terrorist?”

The fire left me and I just stared at the woman.

“Well?”

“Miss … what is your name?”

“Emily Beckers.”

“Can you please turn that off?” I asked, gesturing to the microphone.

“No, it’s my right to …” she trailed off and stared at what was left of her microphone. Its foam top lay on the floor, cleanly severed by a fairy sword strike she couldn’t have seen.

“You need to get her out of here,” Foster said before sheathing his sword.

“Call Edgar,” I said to Frank. He was on the phone in a heartbeat. “Emily, walk with me.” I picked up the severed microphone and placed it in her hand.

She looked up at me and blinked. “Did you do that?”

“Break your microphone? No.”

I started toward the front door, up an aisle filled with feathers and mortar and pestles. She followed.

“Now, I think it’s pretty obvious that video was a hoax, don’t you?”

“I …” she said, tucking the phone back into her purse. “No, I’ve seen too much. The video is just the evidence I need to prove it. To prove I’m not crazy.”

The bell on the front door jingled as a man in a bowler and a three-piece suit crossed the threshold. Emily glanced at him and he smiled.

“Emily!” Edgar said, as bright and cheery as I’d ever heard him. “How are you, my old friend?”

She looked at him, confusion obvious on her face.

“Let me help you remember,” he said. I couldn’t turn away as the Watcher’s hands latched on to either side of Emily’s head. I didn’t hear the incantation, but his hands glowed. The tail of some tattooed beast snaked its way out from the edge of Emily’s collar as Edgar permanently rearranged her brain.

His face fell. “No. That can’t be.” He looked up at me. “Did she tell you about the task force?”

I nodded.

“Gods, she heard it from her brother. He’s a Homeland Security agent.”

Another Watcher trailed in behind Edgar after he finished speaking to someone outside the front door. Edgar lifted Emily and set her into the other Watcher’s arms.

“That’s her van outside. Get her home.”

The other Watcher nodded and carried the reporter out of the shop.

Happy pushed the doors open from the back room and nodded at Edgar. The samurai walked slowly around the counters. He stopped to scratch the cu siths behind the ears when they came running over to him from their post beside Frank.

“Shiawase,” Edgar said. “You are truly here.”

“Ra,” Happy said. He traded grips with Edgar. “Surely you knew it was me all these years.”

Edgar shook his head. “I didn’t. We will have to get reacquainted another time.”

Happy caressed the sword sheathed at his side and smiled slowly. “That would be most welcome. You spar like no other.”

“Uh, guys?” I said. “Reporter, government death squad, impending Fae exposure?”

“That sounds dirty,” Foster said.

Edgar actually smiled. We really were doomed.

“Though it pains me to say it,” Edgar said, “Vesik is right. Our community can’t ignore the threat of war. Damian, we’ll need you to talk to the wolves. Of all of us, they trust you the most.”

Happy and I both nodded in silent agreement.

“Cara and Aideen are already in Falias,” Foster said. “They’re helping with the cleanup as much as they can. It’s only a matter of time before the King calls for the Concilium Belli.”

“Gwynn ap Nudd will go to war with Ezekiel,” Edgar said. “I don’t know if he realizes we may soon be at war with humanity.”

I shuddered. “It can’t come to that.”

“It might,” Edgar said.

“It can’t,” I said. “We can’t let that happen.”

“What humanity fears, it exterminates,” Happy said. “This has been true for as many years as I can recall.”

“There are a lot of people that think the video is proof of our world,” Foster said. “What happens when something else gets captured on film? When the wrong person receives the Sight?”

“I would be more concerned about Ezekiel exposing us unintentionally,” Edgar said. “He intends to kill the world. He doesn’t need to keep secrets from a people he expects to kill.”

“You have to stop him,” Frank said.

We all turned to look at him as he sat on the stool behind the register. I’d have expected him to shrink away from the gaze of the samurai and the sun-god. Instead, he leaned forward.

“No one else can stop Ezekiel,” he said. “Even Zola says so. You have to stop him. For Sam,” he said as he looked at me, “and for Vicky.” He locked his gaze onto Happy as he said Vicky’s name.

Happy’s hand tightened around his sword and he gave Frank a small nod.

“Frank is right,” Edgar said. He drummed his fingers on a shelf and glanced up at me. “It’s a simple concept, but we are outmatched.”

“Outmatched?” I said. “We have the Watchers on our side. How can we lose?”

Edgar took his bowler off and I saw the bags under his eyes for the first time. His sandy skin was pale, and sweat stained the collar of his shirt. “The Watchers are falling apart, Damian. The damage Ezekiel did to us was more than I realized. Some of our most powerful members have fled to Faerie. Others have vanished to God knows where.”

“What?”

“There has been a rift for many years. Centuries, in fact. The Watchers have always been formed from the strongest practitioners of every art you can imagine. Some of us have been called gods, some devils.”

“And?” I asked.

His fingers circled the brim of his bowler and he stared at the hat as he spoke. “I wonder if the wrong Watchers were sent to secure the video.”

“The wrong Watchers?” Happy asked.

Edgar nodded. “You remember James. He would have killed us all to please Ezekiel and Philip had Zola not …” He glanced between the three of us. “Had she not taken care of him. He could have worked his way back through his chain of command. Secrecy has been so paramount, we might not have realized what was happening.” He looked up at me again. “Some of us no longer wish to hide in the shadows.”

CHAPTER THREE

I
closed the door to my ’32 Ford Victoria. I’d always called the car Vicky, but Happy’s little ghost was calling herself Vicky, so it felt strange to call the car by its nickname. I started the car and the engine roared to life.

“Howell Island,” Foster said from his perch on the dashboard.

I sighed and nodded as we rattled off the cobblestones of Main Street, Saint Charles, leaving Happy and Edgar behind before zipping up the modern asphalt.

I felt a tug on my senses a moment before I realized we had a stowaway. Foster’s hand jumped to his sword. I glanced behind me as my Sight came into focus.

“Eavesdropping?” I asked casually.

“Not at all,” Carter said from the backseat.

Foster blew out a breath and relaxed as soon as he realized it was Carter.

“You’ve never been to a pack council before,” Carter said.

 “This isn’t an invitation I could say no to, even if I wanted.”

“No, it is not.”

“You’ll tell me if I use the wrong fork, right?”

I glanced over my shoulder. Carter’s disapproving look was the same as it had in life, but his body was all warm, golden light. He had the same scruffy beard, strong chin, and brilliant sunburst irises.

“Hugh is a strong wolf,” Carter said, “but the night is still likely to be violent. Wolves don’t do well with change, especially rapid change.”

“Good to see you too,” I said. I changed lanes and asked, “How’s Vicky?”

The kid was running with a group of wolves that called themselves the Ghost Pack. They harrowed the Burning Lands, rescuing some, and destroying anything in their way.

“She’s good,” Carter said. “Her strength grows more every day.”

“You’re looking pretty solid yourself,” Foster said. “I can barely even see through you right now.”

Carter held his hand up to his eyes and nodded slowly. “We seem to become more solid as new members join the Ghost Pack.”

I nodded. “I can feel it when you rescue a new wolf. Not like I can hear your voices or anything, I just know there’s a new member in your merry band of misfits.”

Carter grinned, revealing a row of teeth slightly too sharp to be human. “Pack magic.”

I still wasn’t sure what the pack magic would let us do. I could guide ley line energy into Carter and his wife Maggie, and they would become visible to the other pack members, but that was really the most useful thing we’d found so far. Werewolves adopting a necromancer wasn’t exactly standard operating procedure.

“I still can’t speak to Hugh without your help,” Carter said.

“You want to make an appearance tonight?” I asked.

I caught Carter’s nod in my peripheral vision.

I knew he didn’t just want to talk to Hugh. He wanted to speak to the entire council. There were going to be other packs there. Hugh had told me there were still some wolves who wanted to devour me whole. I avoided the topic for the time being. “How’s Maggie?”

He let out a slow laugh. “Vicious, loving, destructive. She’s quite well.”

I grinned and swung onto Highway 40 for a few minutes. “Is she coming tonight?”

“Can you bring another over?” Carter asked, his voice rising in pitch with the curiosity in his voice.

“I have help.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“Oh, sure,” Foster said. “Damian’s the last guy you should listen to when he says ‘Don’t worry about it.’ ”

“I’ve noticed,” Carter said.

“Be nice, or no one gets a pretzel,” I said.

“I can’t eat pretzels anymore.”

“No problem.” I shot a smirk over my shoulder. “I’ll eat yours.”

***

I pulled onto the grass outside the entrance to Howell Island. The small parking lot was overflowing with vehicles. Motorcycles and vans sat between sports cars that cost more than I’d make in a lifetime.

I grabbed the focus and slid it into the loop on my belt. It was the hilt of an old Scottish claymore. No blade protruded between the sloping arms that ended in quatrefoils. Small holes spiraled up the grip, channels for an aura, and power beyond anything a mere aural blade could conjure.

“Illinois, Iowa, Kentucky, Ohio, Maryland,” Carter said as we walked by the closest cars. He stopped and grabbed my arm. “Damian, Hugh would not have invited so many packs.”

“He made it an open invitation,” I said.

“Yep,” Foster said. He hovered above Carter’s shoulder. “Bring your friends. It’s gonna be a party.”

“Or a death march,” Carter muttered.

“Maybe you’ll be adding to the ranks of the Ghost Pack tonight, eh?” I said. I slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to cause him to stumble.

“Sometimes I forget you can still hit me.”

“Don’t feel too bad. You can still hit me a lot harder.”

Snarls echoed through the night, rolling over the levee that separated us from the island.

“Let’s move,” Foster said. He zipped out in front of us.

Carter and I broke into a slight jog. We moved quickly through the trail. I swung right at the old tree I could now recognize blindfolded. Hugh had given me some explanation about the spirit of the island living within the old oak. All I knew was that ley line energy pooled around it in electric blue arcs, which I could follow straight to the pack.

I could hear the rush of the river and smell the wet earth surrounding us. I deliberately stomped on some thick twigs and branches as we closed on the gathering ground. Surprising werewolves was a good way to get dead fast.

“Holy. Shit.” Foster hovered at the edge of the gathered crowd. There may have been over a hundred wolves, some separated into small groups, the largest being the River Pack. I was sure the others were out-of-town packs. I recognized no one outside of the River Pack.

Hugh stood near the edge of the earthen platform with Haka, his son. Below them, an alpha had another wolf pinned beneath his right foot. I knew he was an alpha because the shifted wolf couldn’t budge him, despite his snarls and muscles and claws.

The alpha leaned forward, moonlight glinting off his Spanish features, and captured the gaze of the downed wolf. “You will be silent. This is beyond any meaningless grudge you have with their dead alpha.”

My eyebrows rose and I glanced at Carter.

“Jackson.” He said nothing more, only stared at the pinned wolf.

“He fought for Philip,” Foster said, “against us at Cromlech Glen.”

“I killed his brother,” Carter said without emotion.

I rubbed my right hand across my stubble and inhaled loudly through my nose. Half the wolves turned toward us at that exaggerated breath.

“Welcome, Damian,” Hugh said. “Guardian of the Piasa Bird. You honor us.” He gave a slight bow to Foster as the fairy glided over the heads of the gathered wolves.